#guess who finished their work tasks a whole 5 hours early despite having to work across 2 workstations~? >this idiot!!!!<< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[deus-ex-mona]

im bored at work so ✨s u f f e r✨ with me

[kohakuarisaka]

Untamed (chapter 2 of 5)

Takami Keigo x (fem!)Reader

[ SUMMARY ] Every year, without fail, Hawks went into a rut: when autumn began, and then again in early spring. He would honker down up north in a secluded cabin. For the first time, he brought you with him.

[ WARNINGS ] R18+ for graphic sexual content and language. Non-canon compliant: Hawks’ quirk does not work like this. Reader is a hero that works at Hawks agency. Pre-existing relationship. Reader is a female with female genitalia. Feral behavior. Rutting. Biting. Spanking. Slight BDSM. Consensual sex. Wing kink. Oral sex. Romantic relationship.

Chapter 1 • Chapter 2 • Chapter 3 • Chapter 4 • Chapter 5

[ My BNHA Fanfic Masterlist ] ~ [ Also on my AO3 ]

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

As it turned out, 'secluded cabin' was a pretty accurate statement.

Hawks had arranged for a very discreet hero taxi service to drive you the 5-hour trip from Musutafu to a quaint mountainous village that was so small and quiet, you almost doubted it was even on the map.

Past the snowy village, through the winding roads and towering trees, over a bridge, past a frozen lake, and then some miles off the main road, tucked away in a small clearing, was a beautiful cabin.

While the days were steadily growing warmer as spring rapidly approached, it still snowed at night. The snow had melted off the trees from the warmth of the midday sun; but, there was still a light blanket of white on the rooftop and across the surrounding grounds.

There were no poles lining the street, nothing that could bring electricity to the house; however, you could see what was likely a generator tucked away in the back. Someone had propped the cover off and cleaned out the snow.

At that sight, it became obvious that Hawks had beat you here. He already taken to clearing the snow out of the entry way as well, exposing a beautiful cobblestone pathway.

You exited the vehicle and retrieved your bags from the trunk. The very second you closed the hatch, the driver made a speedy exit, wheels skidding in the snow as they backed out before doing a sharp U-turn and barreling down the road.

Luckily, the entrance to the cabin opened before you could worry that you had just been abandoned in the middle of nowhere. Sure enough, Hawks stepped out, wild blonde locks brushed back, a little fluffier than usual due to the change in humidity.

Despite how cold it was, he was wearing a black tank top and loose, light grey sweat pants. He even stepped out onto the cold stone pathway with bare feet. Yet, with a light flush to his skin, he didn't look cold at all.

You had been making a face when he approached, and he offered an explanation, uttering, "I told 'em not to linger. It's suspicious."

Some large plumes departed his wingspan and grabbed at your luggage, one even pulling your shoulder bag off your back. They whipped away, bags in tow, and zipped past Hawks and through the doorway, disappearing into the cabin.

The winged hero didn't immediately usher you inside, as he usually did in these types of situations, but arched over you suddenly, arms bringing you into a tight embrace while his lips captured yours.

The sudden closeness forced your back to arch. Unconsciously, your hands fell onto his barely clothed shoulders, and you felt how warm he was. If you didn't know any better, you would have thought he was running a fever.

The kiss was brief, but uncharacteristically messy, not that you were complaining. It was a kiss of longing, like he had missed you dearly, as if it had been months and not a day and a half.

He pulled back, a distant, albeit blissful, look on his face. His eyelids sagged as if he was tired, but the gold of his iris was bright and his pupils were focused.

"I didn't get to clean yet, but - ugh - do you wanna see inside?" he asked, some slight nervousness to his tone.

"Yeah," you breathed.

Hawks stepped aside and you gently brushed past him and stepped inside. The wood floors creaked softly beneath your feet as you crossed the threshold. Immediately, you were hit with a wonderful scent, earthy, like tree bark, but sweet, like raw honey.

It was a decent sized cabin, spacious and not heavily furnished. The kitchen was on the small side, but seemingly to accommodate a larger living room.

As Hawks had warned, there was a thin layer of dust all across the wood floors. The furniture was covered by clear tarps, shielding them from the debris.

The dining area tucked away in the corner had a chabudai in place of a western style table. It was small and clearly only intended for two people. You had a feeling it was new, considering how spotless it looked compared to the rest of the cabin.

A huge, stone fireplace rested against the north wall, surrounded by large windows that gave a beautiful view of the outside. They were adorned with heavy curtains, pulled back to let the sunlight in.

Hawks was lingering, following close, staring down at you as you walked around and took in the sight of the place. When your eyes landed on him, and you caught his unblinking stare, you realized he was awaiting feedback.

It startled you a little, for Hawks wasn't the kind to fuss over these sorts of things; but, you had a decent enough understanding of what a rut was to know what was going through his head.

"Relax, birdbrain," you cooed, reaching up to tap gently at his cheek with a closed palm. That seemed to knock him out of his stupor, for he blinked and suddenly looked sheepish. He flickered his gold eyes away, as if to give you space.

"I love it," you praised, looking back into the living area. "Cozy, and smells nice."

You heard him exhale a relieved sigh through his nostrils.

"We should get to work. Where's the cleaning stuff?" you asked, peeling your jacket off.

"Oh. I'll-" he began.

"You'll let me help," you interrupted him gently.

When you turned back to face him, and saw the bewildered expression he was wearing, you wondered if maybe that wasn't the right thing to fit with his current state.

"Unless that's... bad?" you offered uncertainly, shoulders sagging.

Hawks laughed suddenly at the sunken expression on your face, as if the joyous sound came sputtering out against his will.

"No," he answered softly, leaning in suddenly for another kiss, as if he couldn't help it. You didn't get a chance to kiss back before he was retreating.

"Don't change," he sighed. "I want you as you, not as my..."

"-subservient housewife?" you offered, just a little teasing.

He chuckled softly, breathing out a harsh, "fuck, no."

Hawks maneuvered around you and headed for what you guessed was a supply closet. Inside, the cleaning gear was also neatly packaged in containers and safe from dust.

It made sense, how neatly arranged everything was. Hawks was a fairly neat person; but, it was also clear that he had this whole thing down, neatly tuned and properly sorted out. He had been coming here for years, after all.

This place was special to him. That much was clear.

The two of you started to dusting and sweeping, followed by a diligent mopping, with the two of you working in tandem.

Hawks was fairly quiet during the whole ordeal, seemingly focused sternly on the task at hand. It had been his nest for years. This was hardly anything new; but, it was now going to be yours, too.

He didn't tell you that he had been worried he would react negatively to your presence. He didn't always react rationally during this time. Seemingly average things would sometimes irritate him, and a part of the possessive onslaught included this abode.

Fortunately, that hadn't been the case. Cleaning the cabin with you was soothing. He wasn't unaware of the obvious implication: that you were preparing a nest together, your shared nest. He didn't say it aloud, but you had come to that realization, as well.

It had actually calmed him quite a bit. He had been on edge before you arrived, skin prickled with heat and sweating unreasonably considering the cold. Those weren't abnormal during his ruts; but, it felt intensified with that knowledge that you were going to be here.

Darkness swept across the forest as the hours dragged on. Luckily, you were just about finished by the time it got dark.

There was a neat stack of firewood arranged on a carrier near the fireplace, making you wonder if that was what he had worked on before your arrival. The logs looked freshly cut and heavy.

Crimson feathers delivered logs to the hearth. Hawks retrieved a set of matches from a cubby near the carrier and then kneeled before the hearth. He set one of the matches ablaze and carefully ignited the firewood arranged in the pit.

Warmth and light flooded the cabinet. Plumes gathered along the edges of the curtains and pulled them back, covering the windows. When they returned to his wingspan, he stepped back and monitored the fire briefly.

While cleaning, you had learned there was a cellar and partial second story, as well as an indoor bathroom. It seemed that the main use of the generator was to power the water heater and indoor plumbing.

The cellar was small, down a short flight of stairs, with concrete floors and walls, the perfect size for containing a month's worth of food and supplies, far more than was necessary for just a week.

The second story was a loft that oversaw the living room, giving a great view of the fireplace. There was no safety railing on the upstairs, likely for the very obvious fact that Hawks could fly. There was, at least, a staircase.

Upstairs, there was a large bed frame with a plush mattress, wrapped up tight to protect from dust, a large chest pressed up against the wall, and a desk without a chair.

After he removed the bed cover, you watched Hawks pull neatly folded blankets and pillow cases out the chest. It was fascinating to see someone, who normally slept wherever his body landed, so meticulously prepare the bedding: layers and layers of blankets, followed by dressing the pillows and laying them out.

It was especially perplexing because of the intense, concentrated look on his face. He had been so focused that he hadn't even realized that you had paused what you were doing to watch him.

Luckily, you caught yourself staring before he did, and shuffled back downstairs before he could notice.

A sudden howling had startled you, before a sharp wind rattled against the shutters. Something was thumping gently against the roof and when the wind picked up, you could almost hear the trees shuddering outside.

"It's snowing," Hawks observed, suddenly at your side.

You could see a glimpse of crimson in the corner of your eye, and realized he had a wing fanned out around you, not quite close enough to touch, but hovering. Maybe, he hadn't even realized he was doing that.

"Oh," you answered quietly.

Together, you prepared dinner, settling for a classic favorite of his: yakitori chicken and stir fry noodles.

Eating dinner together, and talking about nothing, made you realize, it had been the first time in a long time, if ever, that you hadn't discussed work: nothing about the agency, nothing about heroes or villains, nothing about police business or missions.

It was just senseless conversations that amounted to nothing.

The dining table was small and the floor was cold; but, your hands brushed constantly due to the lack of space. It made you realize that you had longed to have this type of moment with him, something so utterly domestic.

"I know it's not super late," Hawks began, on his way to the kitchen with the dirty plates. "But, I'm gonna wake you up early; so, let's get to bed, okay?"

His voice was soft, surprisingly drowsy, you realized, and he continued, "it's - well, there's something I wanna show you, and it looks best in the sunrise."

He had started the dishes before you could; so, you stepped in close, deciding to tease him a little.

"I bet you do look best in the sunrise," you uttered, leaning against the counter top near the sink, where he had busied his hands. He was looking away from you; but, you could see his lip twitch into a faint smile.

Hawks laughed, a low chuckle that rumbled through his chest. "Not me," he replied softly. Yet, he found himself feeling enamored with the knowledge that that was where your mind had wandered first.

"Do you want me to wait for you?" you offered, standing upright and shifting away from the counter.

"Nah," he replied simply. "I'll join ya' in a bit."

You changed into your pajamas, brushed your teeth and pulled your hair back, before heading upstairs. Blankets and pillows were stacked high on top of the mattress, making the bedframe disappear beneath it.

It not only looked incredibly warm, but incredibly soft, and an inspection with your hand, smoothing over the surface, confirmed that. There were several pillows pressed against the headboard and even more at the foot of the bed.

If you hadn't seen him arrange it, you would have doubted it was even Hawks' bed. From the glimpses you had seen into his life, he was a minimalist.

His office at the agency was fairly large, but looked almost comical with the lack of furniture in it. He wasn't one to buy much of anything outside of perishables.

"Take those off."

You had heard that commanding tone many times before; but, in the peace and serenity of this cabin, it startled you. Your shoulders twitched a little and you turned to face him, having not heard Hawks approach.

His gold eyes were glaring at your body, shifting up to meet your gaze when you turned to face him.

You gawked back at him, dumbfounded by his boldness, and a little intrigued, if you were being honest. He had warned you about this, and you were about to comply when his dark expression suddenly softened.

"Oh fuck," Hawks blurted, embarrassment washing over his face. The intensity of the moment dissipated and you found yourself unable to hold back a faint smile at the way his face so rapidly changed from anger to shame.

"Shit - I - sorry - ugh," he stammered, some redness tinting the tops of his ears. His dominant hand came up and ruffled his hair. "That was messed up. Ah - what I mean is, can we sleep naked?"

It was clear he wasn't embarrassed about the request, but the way that he had asked. You couldn't hold back a soft chuckle at his frazzled state.

"Of course," you uttered, and began shedding your clothes.

He was staring at your nudity as if it wasn't something he had seen many times before, as if his hands and mouth hadn't explored every inch of skin, hadn't touched and claimed parts of you your own hands couldn't reach.

It made you feel powerful, beautiful.

"Did you brush your teeth?" you asked, knocking him out of his stupor.

He didn't respond, but made a face that gave you your answer. He turned away then, and hopped over the edge of the loft, floating down into the lower floor, and scurried off to the bathroom.

Promptly, you disappeared beneath the blankets, shivering from the cold, skin prickled with goosebumps. You were about to scold yourself for complying with him so eagerly, without demanding a compromise, mainly that you expected him to warm you up.

Luckily, it didn't take him long to join you, and you suddenly felt a very warm, and very naked, body slot into the space behind you, wiggling beneath the blankets. It was almost concerning how warm he was, like he had just flung himself into the hearth before running back over here.

You rolled onto your back to greet him and Hawks wasted no time slotting over you, tangling legs, arms falling on either side of your head. Wispy bangs fell over his forehead, longer strands catching on his eyebrows.

Your eyes peered over his shoulders, where you could see his wings were fanned out above him, plumes stretched wide, looming possessively. When your gaze shifted to his face, your breath hitched.

His stare was hypnotizing, as if he couldn't believe you were here, gold eyes practically glowing in the dimly lit loft.

It made you sad to think just your presence alone had pleased him so much, whereas nothing else had yet to occur. It made you think of all the years he had to endure this alone, the loneliness far more straining than the lack of a pliant body.

"Hey," he began, voice hoarse, distant.

His dominant hand shifted from the bed to cup your cheek, thumb gently prodding at your cheek bone. Just like the rest of his body, his hand was so warm.

"I know I said I wouldn't let you leave," he explained, fingers sliding carefully across your temple. "But, if you want to, at any time, I'll call the taxi and-"

You leaned up, taking his lips in a gentle kiss to silence him. He moaned into the kiss, clearly surprised by your interruption. His hand departed your face, lowering to caress the side of your neck.

When you pulled back, he chased, not letting you depart from him quite so quickly. The kiss carried on for a short while, Hawks only leaning back when he was satisfied.

"No," you disagreed in a soft hum, hands rising to push strands of his hair out of his face. "I'm not leaving. We're going through this together. Okay?"

He let out a sigh that fluttered across your cheeks. "Okay," he agreed, as if he couldn't believe it.

Hawks shifted until he was lying beside you, one arm loose around your waist. You turned a little to lay on your side and lean into him, cheek falling comfortably into the pillow beneath your head, and felt him nuzzle into your back, bringing you as close as he could without ruining your comfort.

One of his wings folded carefully over you while the other sprawled out across the bed. The light from the fire just barely reached the loft, an amber glow that flickered with the dancing flames.

The sounds of the gentle snowfall outside was a little louder upstairs. One of the nearby windows rattled softly, trembling weakly from the breeze that shook the shutters. The rafters above creaked occasionally in melodic hums.

Behind you, Hawks' chest undulated with his breathing, moving against the skin of your back. His wings shifted ever so slightly in harmony with the expansion and shrinking of his lungs. The longer plumes on the ends twitched occasionally.

"Keigo?" you whispered.

He didn't answer. Judging by the way his arm had slackened where it rested over your waist, you figured he had fallen asleep already.

The bedding was soft, and you had no doubt that he had washed them diligently; yet, mingled with the earthy tones of the cabin, they smelt like him. The hearth crackled distantly, the sound a faint echo through the cabin.

It didn't take long to slip away.

• • •

• • •

Sometime in the middle of the night, you were woken by a strange sound. In your groggy state, it sounded like a distant animal cooing into the night.

Once you properly came to, you realized the warmth against your back had retreated. The blanket had been partially ripped away in the process, leaving the skin of your back exposed to the cold air of the cabin.

What had sounded far away you now realized was coming from right behind you, pained little noises and harsh wheezing. You rolled over to take in the sight of Hawks, blindly reaching for him in a moment of panic.

Worry struck you when your skin touched his. He had already been warm to the touch before; but now, his skin felt scorching, sticky with sweat. Your hand had landed on his chest, where you could feel his muscles rapidly rising and falling with each staggering breath.

The noise that had woken you became obvious then; he was panting, sharp and labored breaths that whooshed in and out of him, occasionally accompanied with a quiet, pained sound.

He had shoved the blankets away and was laying on his back, wings tucked in uncomfortably tight beneath him. Through the faint glow of warm light from the fireplace, you could see his chest raising and falling rapidly, head tossed back, face contorted in pain. Some strands of blonde locks were clinging to the sweat soaked skin on his face.

"Keigo - Keigo," you called to him, hands rising to his shoulders so you could shake him.

It wasn't until he jerked suddenly, eyes opening and head whipping towards you, that you realized he had been sleeping. His labored breathing intensified, but only for a second, before he started to calm down.

His gold eyes were glossy for a second, staring at you blindly, before he started to wake properly. His lips were parted, sharp breaths still escaping him in harsh wisps.

"Are you okay?" you whispered harshly. "Are you sick? You look-..."

You could see a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. Now, with him leaning up a little, you could see the flush of red tinting his skin, all down his chest and across his cheeks. His shoulder muscles were tight and his wings twitched helplessly beneath him.

"I'm f-fine," Hawks answered, voice low and hoarse. He swallowed roughly. "It's - it's a n-normal side effect."

"You're burning up," you hissed, hands touching his skin so carefully, like you would hurt him if you were too rough. "Are you sure you're okay?" you insisted.

"Just need-" he growled, cutting off as he tried to sit up.

His movement had repositioned your hands, causing them to drag from his shoulders to his chest, less you lose stability and collapse on top of him.

It was a familiar touch, a place you had touched him many times before; yet, he froze suddenly, gaze shifting down to your hands as if they were grounding him to this plane of existence.

Hawks' gold eyes fluttered shut and his pained expression softened. He flopped back on the bed, giving up his attempt to sit up as if he had suddenly lost all strength in his body.

Catching on, you uttered into the cold air, "is that what you need? Keigo, do you want me to-"

"Yes," he answered sharply, hissing through the cold, chilled air. He sounded relieved, thankful that you had offered before he had to ask.

"God, fuck - I - I need you, need to - to - be inside you-"

His babbling briefly ceased when you pushed the blankets off yourself and rolled on top of him, a gesture you had done many times before, now a nearly perfect art.

You watched, hypnotized as Hawks arched his back off the bed and flexed his wings until they were sprawled out on either side of him. The beautiful crimson plumes stretched out across the sheets, shuddering in faint waves that matched his heavy breathings.

In the shift, his cock became pinned against your inner thigh. If you didn't known any better, you would have thought he was prodding you with an iron rod pulled straight from the fires of a forge.

It was unbearably hot, hard as steel and painfully poking against your flesh. You could feel his heartbeat through his cock, throbbing against you as if pleading to be touched.

Arousal had never struck you this hard before, with enough force that it made your never regions throb and chest tighten. Blood rushed to your face so quickly, you briefly feared you would pass out.

Now, hovering, looking down at him, it was almost unbearable. It was clear that Hawks was in pain, and you felt a tinge of guilt at the realization that his state had aroused you.

But, the truth was, he looked stunning.

Maybe it was the red flush staining his skin, or the glisten of sweat, shiny with the reflection of the fire burning in the hearth. Maybe it was the way his gold eyes practically glowed through the darkness, staring up at you like a starving predator, glaring with dangerous intent.

Some sort of inhuman growl escaped him and Hawks grabbed at your meaty hips, roughly pulling you forward. It didn't take you long to figure out what he was doing; but, your attempts to aid were waisted, for he simply dragged you down to his liking, until the heat of your sex collided with his face ungracefully.

The first thing you registered was his mouth kissing sloppily at your sex. His tongue followed, lapping at your folds impatiently before breaching your heat. Hawks was always the kind to give sloppy oral; but, this was something else entirely.

He moaned shamelessly when his tongue registered your taste, hips rising off the bed as if attempting to chase a sensation that wasn't there.

Your hands fall onto the wall, and you tried to keep yourself up; but, he wasn't having it, growling and pulling you back down. It was difficult to not go dead weight when his tongue was lapping at your walls, mouth suctioned around your entrance like he was trying to suck juices from a ripe fruit.

One of your hands weaved through his hair, gently massaging his scalp in a praising gesture. It was difficult to get out sensible words. Instead, you moaned broken pieces of his name, thighs trembling on either side of his head.

You had no idea how much time had passed before he seemed satisfied and finally lifted you up enough to remove his mouth. The wet gasp that escaped him, suggesting he had been holding his breath, riddled you with shameful lust.

"You made a mess," Hawks observed deliriously.

He sounded immensely pleased with himself and even leaned in to take another taste, this time honing in on your pearl. You felt more than heard his pleased chuckle when you whined at the sudden touch.

This time, when he pulled away, he let you retreat. As you shimmied down his body, you caught him wiping your essence off his face with a careful finger before popping it in his mouth.

Hawks' skin was still flushed red, all the way up to his ears; but, now, he looked damn smug to top it all off. You couldn't see the look you were wearing, but you knew by the heat on your face that it was lewd.

The cold of the cabin had been lost to you, especially when you positioned your hips over his and felt the head of his cock nuzzle at your entrance, threatening to breach your core.

Hawks' head fell back into the sheets with a whine, eyes squeezing shut. Tantalized by the sight, you intended to tease him a little; however, he nudged his hips forward with a sudden jerk, effortlessly impaling you on his cock, and taking that opportunity away.

"Ohhh, fuck!" Hawks shouted before sucking his bottom lip beneath his teeth. He released it after letting out a low hiss.

You closed your own eyes for a moment, adjusting to the sudden intrusion of his impressive girth, and felt his hands slowly slide up your thighs into the dips of your hips, slotting over a spot he had practically engraved for himself ever since this began.

When your eyes opened, you looked down and took in the deliriously beautiful look on his face. His thumbs nudged your hip bones pleadingly and his eyes opened, peering up at you through dark lashes.

Forgoing any thoughts about teasing, you planted your hands on his chest and rolled your hips. The motion punched a whine out of him. The sound drawled out into a growl when you kept the rhythm, chasing your own pleasure.

"Yeah," he hummed encouragingly. "Come on. Use me. Fuck yourself on my cock. Just like - ahh - fuck..."

You hardly needed the encouragement; but, the dirty words spewing from his lips further ignited the heat in your belly, and you whined in response.

He could have easily pulled your hips down to intensify the moment. Instead, he lifted his hips off the bed to meet yours, effortlessly matching your movement and chasing the delicious warmth and wetness of your core, while letting his hands hold you gently.

"Baby, do you feel good?" Hawks uttered lowly, his pleading question gently breaking through the moment.

"Y-ye-s, Kei - go," you sobbed, stuttering out your response and groaning halfway through his name.

It was always good; but, something about this moment made it more intense than ever before. You could already feel the sensation rising, thighs trembling every time his cock slid back inside, hitting the perfect spot again and again.

"Yeah?" he hummed, sounding so breathless and fucked out, despite you having just barely begun. "You feel good, so fucking good," he praised between labored pants and low moans.

"You're so fucking good to me," Hawks babbled on, head falling back into the sheets, where he closed his eyes. You watched his adam's apple bob, noticed how tight his jaw was clenched.

A growl vibrated through his chest, followed by a breathless sympathy of curses, "oh fuck - oh fuck. Come on, fuck my cock - yeah - ahhh. Ya' hear that? Those sounds. God, you're so f-fucking perfect."

Your union was loud, skin slapping together and wet, fleshy sounds echoing between the two of you.

His dominant hand released your hip and slid around, thumb prodding between your folds and seeking out your pearl. You were already so sensitive, feeling him so deep, teetering on the edge. When his calloused skin touched that spot, you let out a cry.

"Come on this cock," Hawks groaned. "Sooo close - f-fuck. Come on. Come for me. Fucking come. Gonna fill you up. You want that? My seed. Yeah you fucking d-hnn-"

His babbling ceased when your orgasm took you, the sudden spasms and fluttering of your walls making all sensible thoughts drain from his mind.

His hand returned to your hip, fingers gripping your waist, and he started roughly dragging you up and down to meet his thrusts. You went limp, letting him bounce you on his cock to your liking. Your hands slipped off his chest and you fell onto him, forehead knocking gently against his cheek.

You could hear him huffing and grunting, the occasional growl seeping through, right into your ear as he fucked you through your orgasm, and continued on, chasing his end.

His cock throbbed, firmly enough that you felt it and the sensation startled you a little; but, that thought was lost when he let out an uncharacteristically loud shout, crying out in ecstasy.

Hawks had always been loud; but, this was something else entirely, and the moans and growls didn't stop, along with his undulating hips, for what felt like an eternity.

To top it all off, you could feel it, spurts of his seed, burning hot as it filled you. In the corner of your eye, you could make out his feathers, each and every one trembling beneath him.

Then, finally, he went still.

Hawks' panting filled the room, almost loud enough to drown out the crackling of the fireplace. Even after his panting died down, he let out quiet groans, his orgasm having not yet waned in full.

Eventually, he turned his head and pressed a wet kiss against your cheek. You turned your head to meet him, at first catching the corner of his mouth before he angled his head to kiss you properly.

You could practically feel the praises behind each kiss, thank you's and love pouring from his mouth to yours in a nonverbal gesture. His hands ran up and down your back, massaging your skin but also ensuring that you didn't move and he remained deep inside you.

When he finally released your lips, you busied your hands with his wild mane, gently pushing strands away from his face. He seemed to like the preening, letting his eyes flutter shut and head fall back.

You didn't have to ask if he was feeling better. His all-body, harsh red blush had mellowed out and he wasn't panting like a parched dog.

You hadn't realized you were still trembling until he uttered, "it's okay," in a soothing, worried voice.

His hands shifted to your thighs, where he carefully pushed them back and rolled you onto your side, keeping his cock nuzzled deep. His arms wound around your back, bringing you into an embrace while his wings stretched out behind him before sagging comfortably to the bed.

You realized, as he brought you in, that you were still shaking a little. The worry was evident in his eyes, like he had done something wrong.

"D-do you want me to pull out?" he offered in a weak voice.

"It's not that," you replied softly. "That was... intense."

When your eyes locked with his gold orbs, and he took in the sight of your expression, it seemed to steadily become clear to him, what you were feeling. His lips sought our your skin, senselessly kissing whatever he could reach, all over your cheeks, down your chin and along the expansion of your throat.

Hawks’ head fell onto the pillow and his wispy blonde hair tangled with yours. The unease began to fade away as he held you close, bringing the blanket back over your forms when his intense heat finally started to wane. So did the spell, and something concerning struck him.

"Please, tell me if it gets too intense," Hawks uttered, breath fluttering out against your temple. “I’ll-...”

He cut himself because he wasn’t quite what he would do, what he could do. Could he stop? In this moment of clear thoughts, he sure hoped so. But, part of him feared that wasn’t true, and the last thing he wanted was to lie to you about what he was capable of.

You had figured that he had yet to hit the apex of his rut. Yet, his warnings hadn't frightened you in the slightest, especially after what had just occurred. If anything, you were enticed by it. Maybe, in some strange way, it was affecting you to.

"I can handle you," you promised.

You felt more so than heard the uneasy breath that stuttered out his nostrils. Your words stirred something deep in his gut, overcoming the fear, burning arousal and adoration.

[lemonjoonah]

Wrapped Together (M)

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

| Secret Santa Collab | My Masterlist |

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

...

-5 Weeks Until Christmas-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

-Less than 3 Weeks Until Christmas-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you been doing this long?”

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

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

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

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

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

“So we're in the same boat?” 

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

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

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

“Yes, thank you so much!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, they don’t!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

“Even the gift cards?”

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

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

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

“You’d be willing to show me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That I could drive?”

You nod giving him a sheepish grin this time. 

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

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

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

“I’m used to it.”

“Do you like it there?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

“Hey, how was work?” He asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

-2 Weeks Until Christmas-

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

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

“I’ll be fine.”

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

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

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

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

“What was that about?”

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

“Did she give you her phone number?”

Namjoon nods looking down with guilt. 

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

“What? No, of course not.”

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

“No girlfriend.” Namjoon mutters.

“Boyfriend?” 

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

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

...

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

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

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

“Buying art for the museum are you?”

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

“Not because you would love a drive?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

KNJ: Are you awake? 

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

YN: Yeah, everything okay?

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

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

YN: They’re chestnuts.

KNJ: Chestnuts? 🤔

YN: Palatable only when thoroughly roasted. 🔥🔥🔥

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

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

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

“And let me guess, a prince?”

“You know it?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I suppose you are pretty perfect.”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

“Fuck... yeah, did I wake you?” 

“It’s fine, sorry I fell asleep.”

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

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

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

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

“Eleven okay with you?” 

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A win-win.” 

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

“Which do you prefer more?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I help?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shit.” Namjoon mutters under his breath.

“What, what happens now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really? You would do that?”

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

“What are you doing-”

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

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

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

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

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

“You okay?”

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

“You make it sound so easy.” 

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

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

“Why not?!” Namjoon asks in alarm. 

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

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

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

...

-1.5 Weeks Until Christmas-

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

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

“No, not at all.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I can’t even begin to thank you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

-2 Days Until Christmas-

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

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

The phone on your bedside vibrates with a new message.

KNJ: Just pulling in.

YN: Be right down.

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

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

“You wrap up nice.” Namjoon jokes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Valerie...” Eric growls. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, does she- do they-”

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

“Why would he be cautious?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Find any new prodigies?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Namjoon moves closer, moving his arm from your shoulder around your waist, a comforting and protective gesture. “Dr. Wang... I had no idea the two of you were acquainted.” 

“You know him?” You ask Namjoon, your concern rocketing over what else your date might become privy to. 

“Dr. Wang was the phone bidder. I invited him here tonight to see the work we do.”

“The exhibit was impressive, I can’t wait to see what you have planned next.” Jackson confirms. 

“I should go and let the two of you discuss-” You ready to step away when Namjoon’s hand grabs yours and Jackson calls your name again.

“No reason for you to leave, we should catch up.”

“May-maybe later?” You plead with him fighting back the tears, pushing down the memories his presence drags up. “Sorry I just, I need to go.”

You pull your hand free and race to the exit.  

“Wait.” You can hear Namjoon call behind you. Though you continue to proceed out the exhibit and towards the closest exit outside, breaking into the cold evening air, only to find that he still followed. “Let me call for the car and we can go together.”

You stop in realization that your running will not deter him, he’ll pursue you unless you give him a reason otherwise. “No you should stay, this is your big event, I won’t ruin it for you.”

“Not without you.”

“Please Namjoon,” you beg, adamant that he return. “I don’t belong in there, I don’t fit in and I never will. Even when I try...” The ghosts of your past have a way of finding you and destroying your facade.

“I’ve told you before you belong in there more than anyone else-”

“That’s not true. I can barely keep myself together. I can’t, I can’t go back in, I'm sorry.”

“I don’t understand, what does Dr. Wang have to do with it? Did he hurt you? Did he-”

“No! No, he did nothing of the sort. Jackson was always very kind to me. Don’t let me affect your plans or any arrangement, you should go back and talk to him, I just can't be there.”  

“You think I’m going to just drop you for him, especially when he makes you so uncomfortable? No, I’m leaving with you.”

“Fuck, just... please listen to me. He is a good man, he’s a good doctor, you would be foolish to give up this chance.”

“A good doctor...” Namjoon pauses as a grimace hits his face. “Does he have something to do with your mother?”

“How-How do you know about that?” 

“I didn’t mean to pry, I swear. It's just, when I was first talking to Emma about you, out of concern she opened up about your past... about your mother, about your loss.”  

“She told you?” Aunt Emma, you should have known she would do something like that, god forbid at least one person not know your history. “Then all of this, these past few weeks were they all out of pity?” You should have known, there was no way he would like someone like you. It was all out of sorrow for what you’ve been through.

“Not pity no, I like you, I like you a lot. When Emma said you were pushing her and so many others away... I concealed it out of fear of losing you too. I wanted you to open up about it until you were ready. I was just trying to help you get through this.”

You look up at the museum, drawing a distressing connection between Namjoon’s daily life and you. “Why? You think I’m some abandoned project you rescued from a deceased’s estate? One for you to mend, and later show like an achievement? You should have just left me where I was, instead of breaking me further.”  

   Namjoon’s hands immediately pull back from you. “I never meant to hurt you. Only help you move on, you can’t deny that you are frozen in place. You have so much more potential, but you're living in denial.”

“I live there because it hurts less...” You snap back in fury, as he exposes your painful flaws. “I live there so I can work, so I can help others.”

“But what about you? When will you let someone help you?”

You step away unable to answer his question, turning your back on him you race to the sidewalk to hail a nearby taxi, refusing to let him see a single tear fall. 

Once home, you crawl into bed after throwing the dress to the floor. This was so far from the evening you had hoped it to be, with you instead left alone to ruminate on Namjoon’s words. Despising all the evidence he laid bare against you, turning it over again and again in your mind until your morning alarm startles you out of your stupor. Signalling for the last shift before your break for the holidays. 

...

-Christmas Eve- 

It’s finally here, the worst of all days at the call centre. With your eyes heavy from a lack of rest you take a seat at your desk with an extra large coffee in hand. On your computer you have this morning's team email pulled up, and attached to it a list of de-escalation tactics. You’ll need them today because if people don’t get their package by the end of the routes this evening, there’s no hope for tomorrow morning. 

The call board on your phone is already lighting up like a Christmas tree, but you know those little embers to be fuelled by wrath, fury and unkept promises of delivery dates.   

You try your best to remain calm during the egregious conversations. Offering up tips and tricks to parents who are worried that this will be the year that their child gives up on Santa because your company failed to deliver. 

Your lunch break can’t come soon enough. But when you finally check your own phone it’s littered with texts from Namjoon. Messages of concern, apologies, and the hopes that he will still see you at the wrapping station tonight. He even sent a picture of your abandoned coat and promised to bring it along. 

Fuck, you had completely forgotten about you wrapping shift together. Just one more night, then you can put it all behind you again. If you can just keep your cover for a few more hours then it’ll all be over and Aunt Emma will have what she was promised. 

You send Namjoon a quick message confirming that you will be there, but not promising any more before you head back to your desk. 

The calls get progressively worse with several people using foul language and demanding to speak to your supervisor, you try to talk them down as best you can knowing any call passed on to the higher ups will reflect poorly on your efforts.

Until one woman calling in search of her package finally wears you down, insulting you, your profession, even your family.

“Ma’am I’m sorry but if you continue to speak to be in such a way I am well within my right to disconnect the call.” A desperate bluff, your superiors would rather them end the call than you, you’ve been penalized for it before, and you’ll be damned if it happens again. But unfortunately she calls your hand.

“You will not! I have spent hours on the line trying to reach anyone. The shortsightedness of your company and staff is all too apparent.” 

“It’s the holiday sea-”

 “I know what time of year it is, but it seems your staff doesn’t realize Christmas is tomorrow!” 

“You ordered your package past the guarantee date, we could not insure-”

“Now you listen to me, if there was any form of intelligence in that office you’d be working hard to ensure that all packages make it out before tomorrow morning, but instead you just sit on your ass fielding phone calls and giving excuses so you don’t have to actually go out and do honest labour. You must be the biggest disappointment to your family, not even having a proper job. How can you go home and face them knowing you've left so many without their gifts?”

With the woman's last insult, something inside you finally snaps, giving you the freedom to do what you’ve dreamed of for so long. “I don’t,” you pronounce, building up to take your final shot at both her and your employment. “Now if you’ll excuse me I’m going to let you go, as I’d rather not listen to your nonsensical bitching. So merry fucking Christmas to you ma’am, I suggest you go spend it with your own family if they’re willing to put up with your pompous ass.” You hang up the phone and pull off the headset, refusing to answer the next blinking light that comes on to replace it.

You just sit there looking at it denying the next caller their chance at verbal abuse, and your company's lax policy to protect you from it. The chatter of apologies continue to echo around you as your coworkers press on, but after the years of abuse you can no longer hold it in. Your company always said that this position was a stepping stone to greater things, that opportunities would come you just had to wait a little longer, but after being shackled by circumstances, and no forthcoming higher step to take, you refuse to press on any longer. 

...

You pull into the mall parking lot, far too early for your slot at the wrapping stand, with the contents of your desk now stationed in the trunk of your car. Taking refuge in the women's bathroom cleaning your face of the tears you shed on the way over as you try not to think too much about what you’ve just done. After refusing to concede and admit to any wrong doing you quit, telling them to shove their shitty policies right back where they came from.

Namjoon was right... and with the mall closing early tonight you’ll only have two hours with him, two hours to smooth the tension over and allow for an amicable goodbye while maintaining your cover. 

He’s already waiting for you, with your coat in hand, when you show up. The look of pity that you never wanted to see grace his face directed at you. “Are you okay?”

“Fine... I just would prefer if we didn’t talk about last night. I’m sorry for what I said, and now I just want to let it all go if that’s okay with you?” You smile up at him extending the olive branch.

Namjoon nods looking down at the floor as his hands habitually fold a scrap piece between his fingers. The silence between you is drowned out by the carols echoing down the emptying halls of the mall.

“Didn’t expect it to be so slow.” Namjoon mutters after what seems like an age with no one coming to the stand.

“On Christmas eve? Yeah generally people are home by now, spending time with their-” You force yourself to stop, unable to say a word which will bring sorrow to your heart and loneliness to Namjoon’s.  

 “I’m sorry I can’t do this,” Namjoon interjects. “I want to talk about last night, I need to talk about it.”

“Now is not the time.”

“There’s no one here but you and me. It’s just us, the mall is closing, it's our last shift, if not now when?”

“Anytime but now. The last twenty-four hours have been the worst in my life since-since...” You take a deep breath burying the wave of sadness and regret back down in your chest refusing to let it out. “Please, just forget it okay?”

“Not until you stop shielding yourself like that.” Namjoon scolds you. “I’m tired of you living in fear that your tears will erode your cover, and that your anger will tear it away entirely. I’m tired of you thinking that people will only appreciate you if you maintain this perfectly wrapped state. You might think it’s pretty, that it’s convenient for everyone else, but you are only keeping others out.” 

“Maybe I keep it on so that you won’t be disappointed in what you find when it’s discarded. A sad woman, with no direction, no dreams, unable to cope with loss, and I suppose I can add unemployed to the list now. Is that what you want to see? Is that what you want to find?”

“That’s not all you are... and as for your job, I’m sorry but fuck it. It’s about time you moved on to better things, that place was only holding you back, you deserve so much more.”

“No I don’t, do you want to know why I worked there? Do you? I took that job to make sure she got the care she needed. I promised her when she got better I would quit and find something else, but she never did. But if I leave now I’m accepting the fact that she’s gone... that she doesn’t need me anymore, because I couldn’t do enough to keep her here.” The first tear falls breaking through the long standing divide.

“Staying there wouldn’t have brought her back. Tormenting yourself by remaining frozen in place, won’t bring her back. It’s Christmas for god sake and you are being kind to everyone else but yourself.” 

“This isn’t Christmas for me. If it was, she would be here... not you. I’m tired too. I'm so tired of looking at her chair and- and-”

Namjoon wraps his arms around you pulling you forward as your emotions tear through the shroud. He moves you to the back of the vacant store sitting you among the boxes. “I’ll be right back okay?” You nod, while he tugs the table in and drags the gate down to indicate that you are now closed. When he returns his eyes too are starting to redden. His hands brush through your hair, the side of his palm pressing on your cheek and catching your tears. After seeing one of his own fall you crush yourself against his chest, clinging harder to him than before. His lips touch the top of your head, his hands rubbing on your back and arms as he waits, waits for you to be the first to pull away. The lights for every other store shut off around you the music lowers, all that’s left is the retreating chatter of those going to celebrate the eve of Christmas, and still you hold on to him. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t been a very good substitute.” He whispers, encouraging you to finally lean back and admit your denial, accepting his efforts to help, when you yourself wanted to do the same for him. 

“Don’t say that, it was never going to be a happy holiday for me, just something I needed to get past. But for you, I at least wanted to make yours better, I’m sorry I wasn’t a very good one either.”

“You never were a substitute. You were the one I wanted to spend the holidays with. A different Christmas than usual but no less enjoyable.” 

“That’s sweet of you to say.” You smile, but you doubt it’s true. “I suppose we should go...” 

“What about all the supplies?”

“Emma will come by in a few days to collect it all.” You grab the small donation from the lock box and seal it in the plastic pouch, while Namjoon rummages through his own bag. “Do you still want a ride home?”

“If you're offering, I would love one.” The flap of his satchel closes as he stops his search and instead goes with you to the bank and finally your car. You hadn’t checked the forecast for tonight so finding your car buried in a few inches of snow comes as an unexpected sight. At least with Namjoon’s help cleaning it off is a quick task.

Once inside you both warm your hands on the sputtering heater, changing them on the wheel as you continue to thaw your fingers while you drive. 

“Do you have any plans for the next couple of days?” Namjoon presses, though hesitant in his tone.

“Maybe look for some jobs, and take a good long nap?” You answer with a dark chuckle, still preferring to miss the entire holiday if you could. “You?”

“No, nothing in mind. But if you wake up and want to come over, you're more than welcome to spend it at my place.”

You return both hands to the wheel as the road becomes more difficult to drive on, your tires slipping here and there on the ice beneath the snow. “I’ll think about it, though depending on how much snow we get tonight we might both be stranded at home.”

You pull through the neighbourhood gates and up Namjoon’s driveway. With the car stopped he once again dives into his leather bag and pulls out a thin rectangular gift he looks to have wrapped himself. Dressed as per usual, with far to many pieces of tape, he hands it over to you. “I know this won’t make up for everything, but I want you to have this. Consider it a very belated Christmas gift.” 

“Belated? But Christmas isn’t until tomorr-” You take the present and succeed in pulling back the wrapping to reveal the book that you were reunited with just the night before. “Oh...” You look up from the cover to find the return of the sad smile on his face you saw in the museum. “But if this is late then, last Christmas, it-it was you? You were the one at the stand... with this?”

...

-One Year Ago-

You are counting down the hours and minutes until the mall closes, until you can pick your mother up from her doctor's appointment and head home, to your promised tradition of putting up the decorations. The past few weeks have been so busy, with work, volunteer shifts, and her treatments at the hospital, you’ve made it all the way to Christmas eve with the tree and ornaments still packed away in boxes, sitting in the corner of your living room since December first. 

Aunt Emma is currently taking your mother’s position at the cashbox, thanks to the scheduling of the last minute check up. You light up your phone again checking the time, only an hour left. 

“You can head out if you want my love,” Aunt Emma offers while swaying and humming to the carols. “It’s quiet enough for me to manage myself.”

You grin embarrassed by your desire for a hasty departure. “No it’s fine. I’m still waiting for the phone call to say she’s done, otherwise I’ll just end up waiting at the hospital.”  

“Suit yourself.” She stands up to look down the halls of the mall. “Oh, I think we might have someone, he’s heading this way. He’s cute too, you should give him your number and put that mother of yours at ease.”

“Aunt Emma, I don’t need your dating-” You look in the direction she was speaking of losing the rest of your words when you find a tall beaming man coming closer to your station.

“If you need me I’ll just be in the back fetching more ribbon.” 

“But we have plenty.”

“Doesn’t hurt to be prepared.” She waves herself off when he makes it to your table.

“Hi,” He greets you with the warmest smile and an even tone. “I was wondering if I could get these wrapped together?” He holds up a bag of gifts which he hands over to you.

“Of course. Any preference on paper?”

“Whatever you think is best, it’s for my mom. Just a bottle of her favourite perfume and something a little more special.”

You open the bag to find a small box containing the fragrance, and the other what looks to be a kids picture book. But what initially seems to be an odd choice for his mother, slams your chest with nostalgia when you see the cover and read the title.

“Koya’s Christmas.” You laugh with delight, you can’t stop yourself from smiling when you examine the artistry. The memories it brings back is enough to make your eyes well with tears.

“You know it?” The man asks, looking pleasantly stunned. 

“Know it? I had it memorized as a child. I loved it so much I couldn't bear it when it was packed away at the end of Christmas each year.”

“Me neither, I flat out refused to let it go, I read it year round to the point where our old copy is currently falling apart on the shelf. Even made snowflakes to put in my windows like he did.”

“That’s right, that scene was one of my favourites. May I?” You gesture asking him for permission to look through it. He nods just as excited as you by the concept of something so sentimental. As you flip through the book you recall the beautiful storyline of a koala living in Australia, one who is so upset that they must celebrate Christmas in the summer, never getting to have a while Christmas described in the songs and shown in the movies. But once Koya talks to the leaves in the trees, and the other small animals of the forest, the realization hits that none of them would be able to stay there if it was cold enough for snow. 

You are so close to tears when you reach the page where the little koala realizes it’s more important to have friends for the holiday than the frozen flurries. Proceeding to stay up all night cutting out perfect snowflakes to hang in the windows for all to enjoy at the family's Christmas Eve party. 

“Where did you find a copy? I’ve looked for so long, I lost my own in the move here.”

“I actually found it by chance, amongst a bunch of rare second-hand books at an auction.” The man itches at the back of his head. “Sorry, I can’t be of more help in locating another.” 

“No it’s fine. I’m just glad I got to see it again. I’ll have to tell my own mom that I was lucky enough to see a copy, she loved it as much as I did.” 

You quickly wrap the two gifts in the one sheet as requested. Handing it back to him before you can be tempted enough to make an excessive offer of your own on his mothers gift. 

“Thanks again.” He hands you two twenties for the donation. “My mom usually helps me with the wrapping but I didn’t want her to see this, you’ve made her Christmas.”

“I’m glad I could help.”

When he walks off you notice that he makes several glances back to you, holding a smile each time. 

“So did you get his number?” Aunt Emma pokes her head back out from the stock area. “Maybe his social media, his dick-dock or whatever it is you kids do these days?” 

“No, I did not get his tiktok.” You answer, unable to contain your laughter. “I was distracted by-” You’re ready to defend yourself when your phone starts vibrating on the table, the screen lit up with the number of your mother’s doctor’s office. You answer it, excited to share your account of the book. “Hey mom, you all finished? You’ll never believe what I just wrapped-”

“Sorry dear this is Laurie, I’m just calling on behalf of Dr. Wang’s office. We were hoping you could come by as soon as you can, the doctor would like to meet with both you and your mother before she leaves for the day.”

“Y-yeah, I’ll be right down.” You hang up the phone taking a deep swallow of fear, the moment of happiness and nostalgia vanishing with the prospect of the news to come. It’s never been a good sign when they’ve wanted to meet with you both in person. 

Aunt Emma catches on in an instant, pushing your coat on your shoulders and your purse in your hand. “Go, I’ve got this. You give your mother a big hug for me, and I’ll stop by soon to see you.”

...

While you try to relive, to pull back and hold on to, that moment from a year ago, Namjoon nods confirming your suspicions.

You mentally kick yourself for not recognizing him, for not remembering a single thing about him except your connection with the book. But after everything you had gone through, in that night alone, the devastating news regarding your mothers health had blacked out everything else. You took her home that night, trying not to cry, trying to be strong for her. Helping her into bed for some much needed rest, leaving your previous plans boxed up in the corner... where they remain to this very day. And the year only got worse leaving your mind engaged elsewhere, far from the man with the kind smile and similar taste in literature. “I’m sorry, I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you sooner.”

“No, it’s fine, it was a while ago, and I’m the one who should be sorry,” He whispers. “The moment I stepped outside that day, I realized you needed it more than my mother needed a second. I went back, but you were already gone. I was selfish though, rather than leaving it with another, I wanted to be the one to give it to you myself, I wanted to see you, to talk to you again, and so I kept it. I even put it in the exhibit on the chance that you might find it. When I met Emma at the museum and found out that you’d be doing the fundraiser again it seems like fate, but then I heard about what had happened since I saw you last. I realized how foolish I had been, how I had stolen your chance to share it with her before she passed.”

You reach up to your face attempting to wipe away the tears before Namjoon can see anymore, but he catches your hands before you can hide your grief.

“When you saw the book that day, you have no idea the impact it had on me. Watching you react, your emotions so close to the surface. You didn’t care where you were, what you were doing, all you could see was the memory in front of you. I wanted to create that for everyone.”

“Then the museum exhibit-”

“Was a result of my meeting you, my breakthrough idea which got me a chance to curate was thanks to your reaction. I was going to tell you when we were there, why you deserved to be there more than anyone else, but everything fell apart so quickly.” 

“I’m so sorry, I never intended to ruin your night. I just-” You take a deep breath, finally letting out the words you’ve been holding back. “I was scared. Jackson was one of my mother’s doctors, he was always friendly and kind to the point where my mother would joke that he would make the perfect son-in-law. We even went on a date, but when she passed... it was difficult, painful for me to see him again. Finding him there last night, I was so worried you would learn about what had happened, and that you would look at me with the same pity he did, so I ran.” 

“You didn’t ruin it, I deserved what you said for not being more open with you about what I knew. I was scared of losing you. So no more running, no more hiding okay?”

You give him a nod, unable to speak through the tears as you gasp between sobs. He hugs you across the cars divide. “Now will you please come inside? At least for a bit. It’s Christmas Eve and I can’t let you go home like this. I have the snowflakes up and everything but we both know it’s not enough without someone else to see them with.” 

You shake your head, now laughing despite the tears, “You really know how to reel me in.”

“I’m just admitting that I don’t want to be alone on Christmas,” He looks at you with a raised brow. “And I don’t think you want to be either.”

...

Namjoon’s house is the very opposite of your apartment, filled with warmth and light, wooden furniture and plants in every corner. The Christmas decorations bring another layer of himself into the fold. As promised, his window pains are full of snowflakes and the sills... you squint at several small blue lumps perched beside the glass. Moving closer you recognize them as clay koalas made by the skill and hands of a much younger age. Namjoon catches you staring at one position in a dozing state. He takes it off the ledge and hands it to you to give a better look. 

“Careful with that one though,” He points to another figure stationed in the corner. “It’s ears like to fall off.” He rolls the round bit of clay out of position chuckling as it exhibits the trait. 

“Did you make these?”

“When I was a kid. My mom held on to them.” Namjoon muses as he continues to fidget with the figurine. “She dropped off a box of decorations before going off to be with my sister and her family.”

“I’m glad she did.”

“Me too. But even with all the trimmings and decor here this year doesn’t feel quite normal.” He replaces them both in their rightful positions of honour and gestures to the massive couch behind you. “Make yourself comfortable,” he insists, before wandering off to the joint kitchen. “Is there anything I can get you to drink?” 

“I’ll have whatever you're having.” You take a seat on the monstrous cushions, which ease you in before swallowing you in comfort. Making it easy to see how this beast of a sofa has eaten several of his several earbuds. 

“Beer okay?”

“Perfect.”

He comes round with the drinks and takes a seat beside you. Turning on the television he lets it play with low volume in the background so you might continue your conversation if you wished, but at the same time eases the pressure from you if you’d rather not. 

You smile down at your beverage as the overly dramatic film plays out. Your mind still lingering on the damage that you might have caused with your hasty departure the night before.

“Have you talked to Jackson since, is he still going to loan the sketches?”

“He wants to, he sent me an email today saying so...” Namjoon pauses taking a sip of his drink, swirling the contents around in the can. “He asked if you were okay too. I haven’t responded yet, I wanted to talk to you first and get the full story, rather than speak on your behalf. But it’s clear he has feelings for you, if you told him how you felt, I’m sure you could still work things out if you wanted to.”

“No, I don’t think it’s feelings but his concern. He’s just too good of a person not to worry, and I’m sure his own guilt has a place in there too. Jackson and I never would have worked out, we went on that date, we didn’t have much in common, there was nothing there that I wanted to pursue, not like my time with you.”

Namjoon’s eyes perk open as he smiles. His arm reaches around, pulling you in to lean on his side and shoulder. As the strained plot plays out before you. 

“Why do you insist on watching these.” You ask as your eyes become heavy after a few minutes. Leaning into Namjoon more he lays back putting his feet up and sliding you down with him to do the same. Your head now resting on his chest the deepness of his voice carrying down to your ear. 

“They’re like the snowflakes-”

“A paper thin plot full of holes?”

“Funny and true, but not what I meant. I know they are by no means real, but they have this way of adding to the feeling of the season. I didn’t realize how much of a tradition it has become for me and my family until this year, when watching them alone just felt wrong. The movies were an excuse to sit down with them, to talk and laugh. The other night when I called, it wasn’t that I couldn’t sleep, I just wanted to spend the time with you.”

“But why me? You could have anyone, even Valerie seems to-”

“Why would I want anyone else when you helped me achieve something I’ve long dreamed of? You may think this cheesy but at the end of all these films, when everything comes together wrapped in a perfect bow, that’s how I’ve felt in every moment with you.”

“You’re right, very cheesy, but not unwanted.” You look up at him from his chest finding only sincerity in his face. “Now if we’re to continue in this similar Hallmark course of action, I do believe this would be the part where you kiss me again.”

“But I’m just the clumsy lead,” Namjoon jokes. “I’m pretty sure that’s your-” You lean in doing just that, cutting him off and pushing him against the couch as you kiss him. His chest quaking with silent laughter soon turns to rumbling groans as you fulfil the expectation of your role. “Though this would also be the part where I tell you we should wait before giving into temptation.”

Your nose scrunches up in displeasure over the notion of such abstinence. “Then let's omit that line, and go off script for the rest of the night.”

Namjoon takes his turn, flipping you over to push you down onto the plush cushions, where you sink under his weight. “Gladly,” he growls, his mouth trailing down your neck pulling on the collar of your sweater to seek further in. 

Desiring the same you discard your own knit garment, before moving on to unfasten the buttons of his shirt, pushing it back until he is forced to tear his hands from the sleeves himself and whip it down to the ground. 

Sliding between your thighs he wraps your legs around his back and picks you up off the couch. With an arm wrapped around your waist, he continues to kiss you while you squeal from being lifted into the air. 

“Bedroom?” You ask, excited by the possible prospect.

He nods, looking up at you with a smirk. “If that’s okay? I’d rather not risk losing you to the couch too.”

You giggle at the notion, while Namjoon heaves you up again to get a better grasp, his mouth tucking into your chest. He fumbles for the door now behind you looking as though he might break it open if the knob won’t turn to his grappling grip. You reach back to assist and push it open. The cool air of the room hits you, causing you to cling to Namjoon’s warmth. 

With two more steps you’re lowered onto the bed, where he grips the waist of your pants, unbuttoning and tearing them down your legs. Laying on the edge of the mattress, you watch as Namjoon kneels down between your legs. His hands glide up your bare legs and pause at the tops of your thighs massaging them as he asks to go further. “May I?”

You take his fingers and press them down on the dampening fabric. Namjoon groans and dips the tip of his index below the material peeking inside to find the warmth of your cunt. It’s a pity it’s so dark in the room, you would have liked to see his smile. 

But it seems you're not alone in this desire, as Namjoon gets up and reaches over flicking on the lamp beside his bed. “No more hiding, I want to see you, all of you.” 

“I want that too. I want you.” 

He smiles kissing you with both hands before rolling over and pulling you on top of him. You return the favour by taking off his pants and boxer briefs releasing his erection. Running your fingers down the soft skin of his shaft, curling them around the base. Tilting his cock towards your mouth you take the tip, teasing your tongue on the rim of the head. Namjoon groans in delight, thrusting his hips up, you take it again as far as you can manage, enjoying his reactions to your tongue trails downward, tracing the swelling veins of his dick. With another drag of his cock you release him with the pop of your lips and he reaches down to grip your arms, breathing heavily with closed eyes.

“I thought you said you wanted to see me?” You chuckle at his undoing.

“I do, but I also want to last.” 

“Condoms?” You ask, continuing to stroke his cock while you adjust to straddle his thighs.

“In there.” He mutters, pointing to his bedside table breathless and helpless to your touch. Only looking up when you have to free him to reach for the box and unwrap its contents. His own hands help you to roll it down his shaft. 

You guide yourself down on his cock while Namjoon arches against his pillow and mattress. His fingers tracing up your stomach and ribs. You reach back to unclasp your bra just as he reaches your chest, and lean down into his touch. 

With his firm grip you rock your hips clenching on his dick and grinding your clit on his pelvis. The louder he gets the faster you move, trembling as you chase your own high and pivoting down further. When Namjoon’s hands grip your hips pressing you into him the pressure becomes far too great pushing you over the edge, sending waves of pleasure through you until you collapse on his chest. He holds you in place as he thrusts from beneath, gasping as your climax continues, coaxing you to clench down on him, straining his thrusts until he comes. 

Dotting the side of your face and neck with his lips at a soft and slow pace, he succeeds in forging another smile in your still gasping lips. He tilts you off and beside him in your blissful haze so he may dispose of the filled barrier. When returning to your grasp you cling to him and he you, dragging the covers up and over the both of you.  

“I could get used to this.” You whisper, curling into his warmth. No longer afraid of the emotions that the holiday will bring. Glowing over the prospect of not facing Christmas morning alone, but wrapped together with Namjoon in the sheets of his bed. “Maybe even consider it a new tradition?” You joke with him looking up to witness his smile.

“If that’s a tradition...” Namjoon whispers, coming in for another kiss. “I plan on celebrating Christmas everyday for the foreseeable future.”

[the-darklings]

coa one year later & self-reflection

(*drags out a creaky metal chair and plops down on it heavily*)

Hi. It’s me, ya boi skinny--

Wait, wrong one. Do over.

Hi, it’s me, Kat, and I’m not dead. Clearly. Today being one year anniversary of COA has kinda put me in a reflective mood, so I guess I decided to sit down and just...talk about some things, thoughts and feelings I’ve been bottling inside for a hot sec. Especially given how radio silent I have gone on here and people deserve a bit of perspective. 

And before anyone starts worrying, it’s all good, and I’m still around and currently in good health for the most part. 

So, let’s take it back to the start. Regardless of how dramatic it may sound, we need to go back a year for that. 

By technicality alone, COA actually turned one year old on October 12th. That’s when the first part was posted. However, the reason I’m treating today as the aforementioned birthday is simple: I had no intention of this story ever being more than a short two-parter. I told this to the discord gang already but COA was only going to have two parts. V was going to die in Tokyo and the rest of the story follows glimpses of John throughout the movies and it’s her ghost that haunts him. Skipping ahead, it was going to have a bittersweet ending of John eventually dying, having completed his task, only to be greeted by V, Daisy and Helen in the afterlife. A peace of sorts. Then, I realised that, well, no. I have more to say on this world and intrigue about this placeholder character V kept growing. 

November 1st happened and I made a very last minute call to continue COA but with the added pressure of doing it during NaNoWriMo 2019. And boy did I. Most of the story was figured out during that very intense month. I posted Part 2 on this day a year ago because I was so eager to share it. Perhaps, in retrospect, a bit too eager. 

For those of you who may not know this, I work as a writer full time for my actual every day job. I’m the main writer for an original webcomic called In the Bleak Midwinter on Webtoon.com and have been for almost two years now. Getting what is essentially your dream job is amazing. I’m very lucky on that front but it also taught me stark realities of having your job and only hobby overlap. It’s a dangerous creative mix. Especially because I was not used to being constraint in what I create or the feeling like I have to please anyone else. Writing as a job is a whole other avenue of creative exhaustion. I love my job a lot and am very, very lucky to have it but it doesn’t change the fact that those initial stages made me fall back on COA a lot for creative freedom that I craved so desperately. To an unhealthy degree looking back on it now. 

But going back to November last year. NaNo time. I did it. Finished on the 24/25th I believe. A juicy final count of 52k+. All while maintaining a weekly update schedule for a fic that usually hit around 10k per update, if not more, even during those early days. Add writing an original story on top of that. Writing every day for hours on end (we are talking 10-12hr days) without any time for other hobbies or time for myself in general. I kept pushing and pushing and pushing. Losing weight and sleep in the process. I think the thing that convinced me that I should continue doing so is the fact that the outpour of support for COA ended up surpassing anything I ever expected or even dared to hope for. I’m not a huge numbers person but the outpour of love and just sheer investment in the story and characters blew me away. John Wick fandom is on the smaller side and has been going through downtime when I posted COA so my expectations were...well, small tbh. I like keeping expectations low to avoid any disappointments in general. But I’ve also always had an issue of being a massive 0 or 100 kind of person. If I love something, it consumes me. In this case, it brought me as much joy and freedom as much as it was steadily pushing me towards the ultimate crash. 

That being said, I can’t thank you all enough for every comment, like, reblog and message and fanart. You’re the reason I got this far. With your support. It brightened some really dark days for me.

But. 

To be frank, it’s never been about you guys. I never wrote or pushed because I felt like I had to appease anyone. That creative mindset is pure poison and I long since learned to let go of it. I kept pushing and kept working myself to the bone because I liked it. I liked how reading peoples’ responses made me feel. I liked the addictive nature of reading all the comments and theories after an update. I loved the idea of brightening peoples’ days and giving them something to cheer them up after what might have been a shitty day. Even if that was at expense of my own time/well being. But for a long time, it wasn’t. I love writing a lot but facts remain facts. 

It was beyond unhealthy and burnout wasn’t a question of if but when and that when was approaching at neck-breaking speed. 

So we come to the end of November. Part 4 has just come out. People were invested and I was invested alongside them. I was just finishing up Part 5 which (back then) was the biggest single chapter I’ve ever written and god I still recall my sheer dread because that was the beginning of Santino being established as a LI. Looking back on that now, it’s downright hilarious how worried I was about the reception of him and V together after John.

So honestly, I hit burnout at around Part 8. Because that’s the first time I recall struggling with writing a chapter. Part 8 came out on December 28th. I had a brief break for holidays. But my mistake was not taking longer back then. Because I continued writing with a barely healed burnout. Followed by almost a year of struggling and continuously creating through that state. It wasn’t like I eased off the pressure, either. Oh, no. The chapters grew in size, the world and the characters with it. AUs amassed quickly and while I adore every single one - again, I didn’t know how to pace myself well enough.

I’m spiteful though. The more the chapters struggled the more I pushed against the burnout. By the time Chicago arrived, however, I knew I was in trouble. I ended up writing 43k+ in a span of 2 months, I believe. And while to some it may not seem like a lot given the time frame, it’s a lot when you’re burnout to a crisp & writing an original story for work + deadlines. Which I was burned out and then some. Chicago was something I was looking forward to writing for months. I have built it up since Part 4. It was a long time coming. So while I’m still proud of it, I would be lying if I said that some scenes were not sacrificed for the sake of keeping to my invisible schedule that no one but me actually cared about. You guys have always been patient. I never felt pushed into anything. It’s always only ever been me doing the harm. 

Chicago was the downwards spiral for me mentally. I felt like I was failing to live up to my own expectations. That people were drifting away from it. I was plagued by the thought that the story I poured so much into was falling apart and growing weaker. Which this has always been an issue with me: I am my own harshest critic. Always have been. In fact, I’m a downright mean little fucker when it comes to just tearing at myself. I know writing is for fun - and it is - but I still like the idea of being proud of my work which only made everything worse despite the love each update received. 

This takes us to the beginning of June. Specifically, June the 2nd. Or, as I like to call it: Kat Makes Another Impulsive Decision but This One Actually Works Out For the Better. On this day, I created the COA Discord server. And damn, I’m not sure what exactly I was expecting when I did ngl. I did it for fun and as an escape more so than anything. But somehow it ended up being the best decision I made in a long while. I know some of you are reading this. So love you lots, dorks. It’s such a privilege to be able to call so many of you my friends even outside of COA now. That little community has given me some of the best memories from this year and helped me to crawl out of my own metaphorical pit I was stuck in. Mentally, I’m doing much better than I did beginning of this summer. Which could be summed up as a constant self-hatred cycle and a feeling of inadequacy. 

That, however, does not mean my burnout magically disappeared. If anything Chapter 17 just put a nail in the coffin so to speak. 2020 has been a shitty year just across the board for obvious reasons I don’t need to go into here but that can only partially be attributed to my mental state. Chapter 17 was...exhaustive. To say the least. But I was determined to stick with my vision and not split it up. I was also starting to be a bit more forgiving towards myself in terms of how long I may take to write it thanks to guys on discord though the feeling of failure and worry never quite faded fully. I’m proud of Part 17. Truly. But that was also when I hit rock bottom creatively on COA. It drained me completely. 

I tried writing Part 18 for weeks after, day in and day out, not getting past the first scene and hating every word I wrote. So I took a deep breath and stopped. Figured I let it marinate and wait instead of trying to piece one of the most crucial chapters in this story like some Frankenstein monster two sentences at the time.

So my solution was simple: give myself some distance from it and write other things. Get my spark back. Of course that’s always a good idea. Having multiple creative escapes is the best thing you can do for yourself creatively. There was just one tiny little problem. 

I was still burned out. Still am. The problem went deeper than just being burned out over COA. I was burned out over writing itself. 

Which is an issue for a person who only has writing as a creative outlet.

I don’t have any other way to express myself. So I was stuck in a runt, trying to write because it’s the only thing that makes me genuinely happy even when I really shouldn’t have. And let me tell you. It’s a shitty fucking feeling. My burnout worsened. I had a thousand ideas but every time I tried to get them down it felt forced, fragmented, and weak. Repetitive and dry. Now, this is also in part because English isn’t my native language, so my vocab is limited as a result, but I hit that sweet rock bottom in that regard, too. 

So, I worked on V (but in her OC form Clara), Lucien and The Elites. All those characters have grown so much since you last read about them. I have multiple original projects planned down the line that will feature all of them existing in their own world, with their own stories and no longer constrained by JW canon.  

Which, finally, takes us to the end of October and beginning of November 2020. 

I was convinced that the best course of action was to do NaNo again but with an original story this time (involving V). Suffice to say, it took a grand total of maybe 5-6 days and hating every second of writing it while also feeling like this project I’m so passionate and excited to write (still am) is just...going down the toilet to be blunt, to realise I may have made the wrong call. 

Still, the stubborn ass that I am, I pushed through. Convinced I can get into it if I just keep going. The realizations that I am sharing with you right now won’t have been possible if it hadn’t been for a rather curious turn of events about a week and a half ago.

I recently bought a gaming laptop, all in preparation for Cyberpunk 2077 dropping ofc. But, in the meantime, I kept recommending a game to a friend on the COA server. That game? Far Cry 5. (It’s a blast to play btw, just a side note.) And playing it brought back all the feelings of nostalgia from the days when I used to write for that fandom. So I revisited some old work. Checked the stuff I never published and that has been sitting ducks in my docs for months and hoo boy. Let me tell you it was a vibe check of the worst kind. 

The stark difference in the prose and the ease with which it flowed was...startling. It made me remember why I love writing so much and how proud I used to be of what I wrote back in the day. Which is not to say I’m not proud now, but it was just such a sharp dip in quality it was impossible to ignore.  

So I didn’t.  

I paused NaNo, moving it to another month. I paused writing for everything but work, which with our season coming to an end I will also get a rest from soon, too. I kinda paused in general. For the first time in a while, I finally forced myself to switch off. Rest. 

The reason why I haven’t been on here is simple: guilt and not having energy to be on here. I like making my blog a safe space for everyone. Similar to escape it has become for me. I couldn’t pretend I was fine when I wasn’t. I felt obliged to perform and being here became exhausting. I haven’t been checking my inbox. Haven’t done much of anything except occasionally dropping by and reblogging a random post so people know I’m alive.

And that’s that, folks. That’s where I am currently. Resting. Completely exhausted mentally but resting. Getting my energy back. 

So where does that leave us, huh? If you read this far, dunno what to tell you. Thanks, I suppose. It’s still odd to think people actually care about my existence sometimes.

I know what you’re likely thinking, too. So does this mean COA is never gonna be finished? What is gonna happen to it? Are you abandoning it?

The answer: no. 17 out of 25 chapters and 250k+ in, I’m too far in not to give it a proper conclusion. Not because I owe it to anyone other than myself. I want this story to be a stepping stone for my future as a writer. I want to prove to myself that I can get this done and finish it. As of right now (as you can no doubt tell with how long it’s been since last update) it’s on a soft hiatus while I rest. This rest? Not sure how long it may last. Right now, my plan is till mid December at which point I will reevaluate. Ideally, I finish the year with an update. But my New Year’s resolution is to finish COA. That timeline has become a little more murky now but, again, ideally it’s within the first quarter of 2021. Will that happen? I don’t know. And I don’t want to make false promises, either. 

All I’m saying is that it will be done. I’m just no longer sure how long, exactly, it may take me to reach that Epilogue. I don’t expect many people to stick around for however long it may take me, but if you do, thank you. Truly. I really and deeply mean that. 

So what’s on the cards for this blog in the meantime? Well, CP77 is coming out in under a month (if it doesn’t get moved again lmao rip) and I expect that to be my soft return to posting my writing on here again. We will see where the muse takes me, if at all. Regardless though, I’m excited. 

One doctorate thesis later, here we are at the end of this really long rambling session. I hope that this has given you some perspective on things going on behind the scenes. I spared you some of the gorier details but I think this post has been long overdue. I suppose I, myself, was just too unwilling to face these things despite knowing about them deep down for a while now. I’m too self-critical not to notice but acting on correcting this behavior has been a whole other matter clearly. 

Thank you for reading this post, my writing in general, and supporting me. I’m not going anywhere. I’m still around. More is on the way in the future. I’ll be seeing you all real soon. And all my love to all of you. 

Love,

- Kat.   

[btsxmalereaders]

Hey! Can I request Yoongi x Male Reader where they have been dating for four years and Yoongi finally proposes one night. Romantic and maybe a little bit NSFW. reader is BOTTOM.

Ok, first of all I am sooo soRRY it took me so long to write this hshsj. And sorry too for not making it nsfw, I just wasn't in the mood for writing it. However I hope you still enjoy it!

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Male Reader

Fluff

Word count: 1,6 k

"This has to be ready by 5 p.m, okay? I entrust this to you, Sunny."

The girl smiles at you and nods, taking the documents you've left on her desk, and is encouraged to speak. "You don't have to worry, Y/ N. If we have problems with this, leave it to me for today."

You let out a sigh that you didn't know you were holding. "Thank you very much."

Sunny nods before flipping through the papers and going to her computer to start working on her part of the new project. Now you head to your own cubicle to finish all to-do tasks as possible.

You were a little more stressed than before because your boss asked you to carry out a new project for the company where you work, and of course you could not refuse, despite the fact that it was heavy and took a lot of your time in recent weeks. You had to put aside many activities that you had planned, appointments, visits to the recording set that your friends had previously invited you to, and you even missed your 4th anniversary with Yoongi.

Of course he understood, in addition to that he also took advantage of that time to finish composing a couple of songs that had to be ready in that same week, but you hadn't had the opportunity to celebrate, until now.

You really want to finish all the pending tasks to go out on your date with Yoongi and have a nice time together, in addition to the fact that this weekend he is free of activities, which does not happen often, so you wanted to make sure that you won't have to return to work for the next two days, at least. Maybe that's why you feel a little distressed today, but remembering that in a few hours you will have a date makes the spirit come back and impel you to continue with your work today. Fortunately, the work team assigned to you is very fast and efficient in projects, so things are looking a little easier for now.

The rest of the day goes pretty fast; and even though there were some difficulties with some assignments, you were capable of solving all the unforseen problems, something that your boss took note of and encouraged you to keep it up like that.

As the clock striked 6 p.m. you saved your progress and sent it to your boss as a report for today's activities and prepared to go back home. Everyone knew that was the end of your shift, so no one could distract you or ask for more stuff related to work. You made sure everything was in order and as you went back to Sunny's cubicle, she gave you a thumbs up to indicate that you were free to go and enjoy your weekend.

With a smile on your face and a relief making you feel less tense, you say goodbye to your work teammates and rushed out of the building to go to your car. That's when you could finally open your messages and see a few more from Yoongi, where he asked if you could go to his studio once you finished working.

With a frown you reply that there's no problem at all, thinking that maybe he has something to show you or maybe he is late from working on his songs and wanted to take you to the restaurant so you wouldn't wait too much for him.

The way to the Big Hit building is not so far from your workplace, and sometimes Yoongi took advantage of that when he finished his work early than expected. He went to visit you and grab lunch together, or sometimes when you were extremely busy and couldn't take so much free time, he left you food with cheesy and cheering messages on sticky notes.

Once you get to the building, the receptionist greets you with a smile since everyone from the staff already knows you. Yoongi's studio is on the fifth floor, so you head to the elevator, and see Hoseok and Jimin, who are also going up, to their dance practice.

“Hyung! How have you been? We haven't seen you in awhile.” Jimin greets with a smile and Hoseok goes for a high-five.

You three have a short conversation about your work and how are they gave you news about the comeback they've been preparing the last few weeks until they arrive at their floor and go to the practice room.

“I'll see you around, guys” You say goodbye as they wave their hands and the elevator doors are closed. Just two floors more and you can finally walk down the hall until you see Yoongi's studio door. You decide to knock a few times but get no response from him, so you guess he must be using his earphones. He has told you the password, so you put it on the small keyboard and the door opens; Yoongi is right there when you enter.

“I was about to open the door for you,” He chuckles and closes the door once you totally step inside. A kiss on your lips as a greeting is what you get, making you feel on cloud nine. “How was work?”

You frown a bit noticing that he doesn't move from his spot. “Great. Kind of stressful but I could finish on time, so I'm free all weekend. How does that sound, hmm?”

Yoongi smiles and hugs you tight.

“Is everything alright?”

“Everything is perfect” He answers as he places his hands on your hips and separates to look at you in the eyes. “I want to show you something here.”

You don't ask what is he talking about because he immediately takes your hand and guides you inside. The black walls of the small hall doesn't allow you to see anything rather than some lights, but as soon as you both step into the room you frown, seeing that the recording studio's windows are covered, so you can't see through.

Yoongi sits down in front of his computer and saves the progress of what he was working on today, so that makes you feel more confused.

“Why is the window covered? Did you guys filmed something inside?”

“No, I put it there for something I want to do, but wait a minute, I'll show you and you have to give me your honest opinion.”

“Uh, mysterious, I like how that sounds.”

Yoongi laughs, “You don't even know what is it. How do you know you won't hate it?”

“I know for sure I won't, now show me! You know I am impatient.”

“I have the stubbornest boyfriend on earth.” Yoongi pinches your cheek as he stands up and walks to the door. “You have to close your eyes first.”

“Fine, fine,” You do as indicated and walk behind him, your hands over his shoulders so he can guide you again. You wait for a few seconds until he closes the door.

“Don't open them yet!” He walks past you and you can hear him moving around and grabbing things. The sweet smell of jazmine and lavender get to your nostrils.

“What are you doing? Can I open my eyes now?”

He remains silent for a few seconds more, fixing his hair and clothes and taking a look at what he did one last time. “Okay, you can open them now.”

You swear you could faint right there and right now as you see that Yoongi set what it seemed like a dinner for you two. On the floor there were some petals, pillows and sheets around a basket, and next to it there was a black piano with some candles above it, setting the perfect tone for a romantic dinner.

“Oh my god, Yoongi, wh-”

“I really wanted to celebrate our anniversary on a special place, I thought that restaurants are not fun anymore.” He smiles and offers you your hand, so you walk to him and hug.

“Yoonie, this is so beautiful, you did this on your own?”

“Yeah, well, the boys helped too.”

You can't help but chuckle, “I love it so much. Thank you for this.”

“Anything for my baby.” Yoongi kisses the tip of your nose and separates from you, signaling you to take a seat.

The night goes so good; you both eat the food Yoongi made (and that Seokjin helped preparing, as well). Drank a couple of glasses of wine, shared some memories of when you started dating; also the things you wanted to do in the future, the things you both wanted to achieve together, so that made Yoongi fondly smile.

Yoongi had a whole speech ready when you finished eating, right when you started talking about the future, but when he sees the smile on your face, he simply says: “Marry me.”

You nearly let the glass of wine fall to the floor. “W-what?”

He blushes and takes his time to stand up and take the small black velvet box he had the entire time hidden above the piano and walks to be closer to you, taking a sit right in front of where you are. He opens the box and repeats himself: “Marry me.”

You can't really process what is happening now, but the sincere smile on Yoongi's face, his reddened cheeks and his eyes shining for the love for you makes things clear.

“Of course I'll marry you, Yoon” You say with a smile and your heart beating so fast. Yoongi takes your glass and places it on the floor so he can finally put that ring on your finger. Your hands are slightly shaking so that makes him laugh, but when the ring is finally on its place, the smile on his face seems to never disappear. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The rest of the night is full of kisses, hugs and a slow dance. Later there will be time for Yoongi to show you the song he composed for you.

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

Rules.

[garbagevanfleet]

Learn To Leave A Room (series)

PART TWO 

Pairing: Jake & female!Reader Warnings: general sexiness, but nothing too risque yet Summary: Balancing relationships is hard work - God forbid someone throw a wrench into it. Notes:  oh my god, im sorry guys. sexual tension is my favorite thing in the whole world. 

MASTERLIST

“I am not ashamed, the story goes. I swear I will learn to leave a room without touching every part of your face.” — Marcelo Hernandez Castillo, “How to Grow the Brightest Geranium,” published in Breakwater Review

“Obviously you have to talk to him.” 

Despite being nearly noon, it’s still too early for this conversation. Lucy has dragged you back to the diner, hoping to nurse your collective hangovers with some coffee and a greasy breakfast, but all you had really wanted to do was crawl into your own bed.

“You can’t just leave things like they are. I mean, he is still your boyfriend until you actually break up with him, right?” she tries again. You know she’s right. She’s always so insightful about these kinds of things, and hung-over you is a little annoyed by her sound logic. 

You had told her a very selective recounting of what had happened last night, leaving out anything to do with Jake. You weren’t ever planning on telling her the rest.

You and Lucy had stayed over at the Kiszka residence, cuddled up together on the couch, but you - very luckily - did not have to see anyone else before you had left. 

“I know. I will eventually,” you assure, staring down at the half-eaten cheeseburger you ordered and wondering if you can take another bite. You opt instead to pick at it with your fork. “Mostly I want him to have to think about it all for a while. Get in his own head.”

She giggles at you. “Mind games,” she says in the way of agreement. She’s silent for a moment as you watch her stir her milkshake with her straw. “I’m sorry he did that to you. I could tell that you didn’t want to invite him; I shouldn’t have pushed you.”

You shake your head at her. “It’s so not your fault. I think it’s good that I figured out who he really is early on. You know, before I actually got to like him.”

“You didn’t really like him?” Her tone is sheepish. 

You shake your head. “It was fun at first, but no. I will miss the regular sex though,” you add, making her laugh. 

“Well, I guess you’ll have to just kick him to the curb and get back out there. You’re going to find someone that’s going to treat you right.”

You nod in agreement and give her a thankful smile, but somehow you feel that you won’t be joining the dating scene for a while. 

+++

Mitch never does text you, so you decide you won’t either. It feels a little unresolved, but you’re honestly grateful to not have to deal with the confrontation. He had never left anything at your house, and you hadn’t taken more than one or two pictures together, so you forget about him pretty easily.

You do feel anxious off and on, but you don’t think it’s from the breakup. You can’t quite put your finger on it, but you pick up an extra-long shift at the cafe to fill your time. Fall is the start of the busy season for baristas, so you very infrequently have a moment to dwell on anything at work. 

After a long day of steaming and steeping, you cannot wait to get home and wash off. The most you ever feel like yourself is in the shower - it’s always a mental cleansing process just as much as a physical one. Soft music starts to play from the speaker on the bathroom counter as you connect your phone. 

You turn the water to the perfect temperature to warm you up from the walk home, and it feels borderline euphoric as you step under the spray. You let the water wash over you, but the second you close your eyes, you snap them back open with an anxious feeling. 

You try it again. You lean back, close your eyes... but to the same result. 

You stand and stare blankly at the shower wall. 

“Fuck,” you breathe. Every time you close your eyes, all you can see is Jake looking back at you from across the living room. 

The lights on his face, the contrast of his dark hair against the white door frame - you can even hear the music that was playing. All of it. It’s haunting you.

You rub the heels of your palms into your eyes, trying to will it away, but you can’t stop your brain from playing the image back to you. 

“Fuck,” you whisper again, a bit more desperately this time and slump against the cold shower wall. You stay there, staring at the tile in front of you until you realize that the issue isn’t going to go away. 

You give up and wash your hair, absent of the task. A slight annoyance slips over you because you can’t even enjoy the ritual with your mind so preoccupied. You take a deep breath and let your eyes slip closed as the warm water rinses the soap away. 

He’s waiting for you in the black, but this time you’re on the patio with him, watching him smoke his cigarette down to the filter. It’s only for a moment, but in that moment you can smell the smoke. Feel the leather of his jacket. Taste his skin. 

You remember the intensity in his eyes as you sucked his thumb into your mouth and you try to recall every little thing about how he looked at that moment. You groan at yourself, realizing just how stupid you are for ever letting yourself feel like this. 

When you step out of the shower, you promise yourself that you won’t think about it anymore, but you still do. You try to bargain with yourself. 

You won’t think about it again after tonight, you think, but you know it’s a lie.

You blow dry your hair in the mirror and stare at the spot on your neck that Mitch had left you with. It’s faded to the point that it’s nearly undetectable, but you can see it. You want to hate Mitch for it, but somewhere in the back of your mind, you’re acutely aware that if he hadn’t done that, you would have never had the time you did with Jake. The party would have just been normal and you would still have Mitch’s number saved in your phone. Jake was right, who knows how long you would have kept dating him, despite the lack of interest on your part. 

You lay down in bed with your warm pajamas on, your feet dangling off the side and your cell in your hands. Jake’s contact information is pulled up and you flip to the Messages tab. You’ve only ever messaged him a couple of times; once when he asked you about a song you had been playing that he wanted to know the name of, and once when Josh and him were coming to pick you and Lucy up and he was messaging that they were waiting outside. 

You lay the phone face down on your chest and stare up at your ceiling. Your heart is fluttering as you think about what would happen if you called him. Right now. 

It’s just a reckless idea - you’d never do it - but that doesn’t stop your eyes from flicking to the clock on your nightstand. 

It’s 11 pm. Would he even answer? What would you say if he did?

You roll your eyes at yourself, suddenly embarrassed at how stupid you’re being. The covers are chilly as you slip into them, but thankfully, they warm up quickly. You fall into a pleasant sleep, and even though you had sworn you wouldn’t dream about it, you still do. 

+++

You wake up to your phone notifying you of a message, but you ignore it for a few minutes, trying to force yourself back to sleep. It’s five minutes later that you realize it’s not happening, so you reach a hand over for your phone. 

Lucy   10:23 am

What are you up to tonight?

A smile finds your lips. She’s always had an uncanny way of knowing when you needed her, and some girl time was exactly what the doctor ordered, you think.

Absolutely nothing. Wanna hang? you reply. You crawl out of bed and allow yourself some time to stretch your muscles before you head for the bathroom. You’re brushing your teeth when you hear a new message come in. 

Lucy   10:41 am 

For sure

Movie at Josh’s. Pick you up around 5.  

Your heart jumps.

“Fuck,” you rasp, but your mouth is still full of toothpaste, and now your mirror is dotted with white speckles. You finish brushing frantically before texting back.

Maybe just a girl night?

Because your life is currently such a mess, you’re not at all surprised that Lucy takes nearly half an hour to respond.

You lunge for the phone the second you hear the notification sound, nearly dropping the Poptart that you’ve just finished toasting. 

 Lucy  11:10 am

Don’t be silly, I already got the movie 

You have no idea how that prevents you from just watching it alone with her, but you don’t want to make her suspicious, so you don’t press any further. 

The rest of your day is spent acting like a middle schooler. You are not ready to see Jake Kiszka again. What if he says something to you in front of Lucy? Explaining it to her would be a nightmare. What if he was just drunk and doesn’t actually have any interest at all?

You’re not positive you’ll see him, so you try to convince yourself that you probably won’t. It decidedly does not work.  

You pointedly try not to think about what you’re going to wear, but despite yourself, you already have an outfit picked out by the time 4 pm rolls around. You try to reason with yourself as you eye your makeup bag.

“It’s a movie,” you remind yourself into the mirror. “We are just watching a movie in the dark and you are not putting on makeup.”

You try to be firm, but you’re weak and you end up glaring at your reflection as you apply mascara. 

Lucy is late when she arrives to get you, but it doesn’t matter, because you still feel like you haven’t had enough time to worry about everything thoroughly. Feeling unprepared, you climb into her car. 

You try to calm yourself by listening to everything Lucy is going on about as she tells you about her week. You know that she can tell that you’re nervous because she starts talking about her cat - a subject that always makes you feel better.

She’s so used to being at the Kiszka house that when you get there, she doesn’t bother knocking. She just lets herself in and hangs her coat and scarf on a hook by the door.

“Babe,” she calls out into the house, and Josh emerges from the kitchen and sweeps her into an embrace. You try not to listen to their loved up talk, you don’t feel like you have the stomach for it with the state you’re in.   

Josh greets you with a polite hug. You smile back genuinely until you realize that you have no idea if Jake told him anything, and suddenly you have a whole new nightmare to explore in your head. You try to talk yourself through it as you follow them through the hall to the living room.

He didn’t give you the shit-eating grin that you would expect to receive if he did know something. You’re also pretty sure that he would tell Lucy, and Lucy would absolutely ask you about it. You breathe a relieved sigh as you settle in on the couch.

Sam is sitting the wrong way in a reclining chair, his long legs hanging off one of the arms. He looks so gangly that you can’t help but laugh at him and he gives you a cheesy smile back. 

Since the recliner is taken, you get cozy with Lucy sandwiched between you and Josh, and a fuzzy blanket across all your laps. You want to ask if Jake is going to be joining you guys, but you chicken out. What if Josh does know about what happened at the party, and by some miracle, he just didn’t tell Lucy? You don’t want to seem like you’re thinking about Jake - even though you absolutely are - so you just stay silent. 

You try to get into the movie. You and Lucy both love anything in the horror genre, but you’d already seen this one in theaters with her, and you try not to be annoyed that she’d pick a movie you’ve both already seen, presumably just so Josh could see it as well.

It’s considerably less scary the second time around, so about halfway through, you find yourself bored. You excuse yourself to use the restroom, mostly just so you can stretch your legs, as the couch isn’t that big and fitting three people on it is a squeeze. Lucy asks if you want them to pause the movie, but you wave her off, telling her you’ll be right back.

You head up the stairs and down the hallway, and you’re just about to turn the corner to the bathroom when the breath gets knocked out of you with a thump. It doesn’t hurt, but a shocked noise escapes your lips before you can stop it. A pair of hands find your hips instantly to help steady you. It takes you a second to realize that you’ve just slammed into Jake - face first - but as soon as you do, you hold your breath. You must have a horrified look on your face because he breathes a laugh.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” you squeak. “What are you doing here?”

Deliberately slow - like he’s trying to make sure you’ve got your balance back - he pulls his hands away. Through a disbelieving grin, he says, “Well, I live here. It’s more like ‘what are you doing here?’.”

You can feel your face turning pink. “Right. Lucy and I are here for a movie,” you explain. You haven’t made an effort to step back away from him, and you can’t bring yourself to yet. His hair is wet and slicked back, and you’re annoyed it looks so good on him - you always look like a drowned cat when you get out of the shower. 

He hums in understanding but doesn’t say anything else. He just raises his eyebrows at you expectantly. 

Just above a whisper, you chance, “Are we going to talk about it?”

He feigns consideration. 

“We could,” he says with a nod, his lips stretching out into a mischievous smirk. “Or we could pick up where we left off.”

You subtly pull the sleeves on your sweater down to your wrists in an effort to hide the goosebumps that are rising on your skin. You open your mouth, but you’re truly at a loss for words. You had a full week to think about this, but you realize you never got around to allowing yourself to figure out what you’d say to him. He gives you an ample amount of time to think of a response, but the only thing you can do is stare at his lips.

“What’s the matter?” he asks, his voice is like silk. It’s quiet, but commanding. A tone you’d use if you had someone's wrists cuffed to your headboard. “Where did all that confidence go?”

He didn’t have as much control the last time you were this close to him, but he definitely does now, and you can tell that this is exactly how he’s comfortable.

“Pretty sure my liver cleared it all out Saturday morning,” you reply, swallowing hard. The words had come out softer than you’d intended. He’s smug as he seems to give you a once over, and your chest tightens under his gaze. 

“That’s a shame.” 

You can smell his shampoo as he brushes past you - something minty and pleasant. The sharpness of it helps ground you a little, but as soon as he disappears down the stairs, you slip into the bathroom and slump against the closed door. The whole exchange only lasted a couple of minutes, but you’re left feeling exhausted. You consider staying in the bathroom forever - maybe setting up a nice nest of towels so you never have to see anyone for the rest of your life, but then you remember that you have your favorite kind of yogurt in your fridge at home, so you’ll have to come out eventually. Instead, you just stand in front of the sink and splash cold water against your face as you try to collect your thoughts. 

You don’t see him the rest of the evening, and for that, you’re simultaneously grateful and annoyed. Multiple times you think about marching back up to his room, but that's as far as you get. You still have no idea what you’d say or do once you got up there. 

Lucy takes you home after the movie, and she offers to stay the night, but you tell her you’re wiped and that you’re headed right to bed. You go to get out of her car, but she places her hand on yours where it’s rested on the center console. 

“Hey, so Josh and I were talking,” she starts, and your stomach tightens. You’re suddenly positive that she’s about to tell you that she knows everything, so you hold your breath. 

“About birthday plans. So he was thinking that since I’m going to be leaving in a week, he’s going to throw me a party at his house next Saturday,” she finishes excitedly. You smile at her, trying not to look scared. 

Lucy’s birthday is in early November, and every single year since you met, you’ve spent it together. This year, however, her parents surprised her with a trip abroad. You had been planning on having a nice dinner together just before she left, but you suppose that it is more efficient to just have a party with everyone.

 “That’s great,” you agree, squeezing her hand. 

“I’m so excited, I’m just hoping you can help us plan it all?” She gives you her best puppy eyes. “Since I’m going to be so busy packing and making sure I have everything together.”

You take a deep breath and nod in agreement. “Of course. You can count on me, Lu.”

She beams at you and leans in to give you a cramped car hug.

When you’re back in your room, you shoot Josh a message asking what he’d like you to be in charge of. Your body feels tight, so you head to the bathroom and draw yourself a bath, setting the water as hot as it will go. 

Josh K    9:38 pm

thinking probably cake 

You frown at your phone and shoot back,  just cake?

Josh K    9:41 pm

yah 

You set your phone down on the tile by the bathtub and roll your eyes. “Idiot,” you say out loud through a smile. You undress and sink into the water slowly, and it’s so hot that it turns your skin pink, but the slight pain is grounding. A message notification sounds from beside you, so you extend a wet hand to grab it.

Josh K    9:48 pm 

Lucy wants to do decorations herself n sam threatened suicide if he cant dj

You huff a laugh. What are you getting her for a present?, you send back.

Josh K    9:51 pm

secret :)

Josh K    9:52 pm

maybe just birthday sex 

You leave it at that, grateful that Lucy has someone so loving in her life. You think she deserves it, even if it does gross you out now and again. 

You spend the rest of your time in the bath willing yourself to relax and trying to figure out why the last three words Jake said to you upset you more than the entirety of your last interaction with Mitch.

PART THREE

Taglist: @myownparadise96   (message me to add yourself if you want!)

[writehardwhumpharder]

Carson vs. Low Blood Sugar

Set in the past when Carson was in college and had a class with Daniel which is how they met. They are 22 and 21 here. I basically just wrote this because I’m going to university now so Carson is back at uni too.

When the professor asked them to form groups of four for the upcoming project, Carson naturally partnered up with the only person in the class he'd spoken two words to - Danny. The weird guy that still sits next to him despite all the other open seats and Carson’s obvious discomfort. But Carson was quick to believe the lie that the open seats were farther back and he wouldn't be able to see the board as well. Sure Carson could move, but he was far too stubborn for that.

The room erupted in groans when the teacher announced the group project. Everyone assumed everyone else was just going to slack off and force them to do the work of all four people. Daniel wasn't too sure about being in a group with Carson himself because even though he was studious and had good grades, it was entirely possible he'd sleep through every group session and just shrug it off later.

Two girls who sat in the row in front of them asked to join since it made the most sense. They introduced themselves as Kelsey and Ava and smiled shyly at the two guys.

Carson's interest in them ended at, "Sure, whatever." And Daniel's interest ended at Carson. Unfortunately it didn't seem like they would be spared any of the awkwardness that came with group projects.

"We should exchange numbers, so we can make plans to meet up." Kelsey suggested.

"Yeah and we can meet at the library, there's a cafe there too if anyone wants food or coffee." Ava chimed in.

"Sounds good," Daniel said. Then they passed around their phones sharing info. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't secretly happy to be handed the perfect excuse for getting Carson's number. Daniel had been thinking of asking him for the last few weeks but figured he'd be shut down with something like, "Sorry man, I don't have a phone number" while quickly shoving his iPhone into the pocket of his hoodie. If he wasn't so God damn cute Daniel would have given up already seeing what a piece of work he was. Eventually he'd find out why he was so cold to people.

After each group was formed and picked a topic the professor let them go half an hour early. Carson put in his earbuds and prepared to make a run for it but Daniel subtly blocked his path.

"So what do you think of this project?" He asked.

Carson paused and sighed, "Shouldn't be too hard if everyone has read the assigned reading. You did do the reading right?"

Danny rubbed the back of his neck, "Of course I did." He said unconvincingly.

"Good." With that Carson left.

--

The group made plans to meet two days later at the group study rooms on the fifth floor of the library.

Saturday was surprisingly beautiful. The weather was nice for Fall and Carson could feel the sun on his skin as soon as he stepped outside. Too bad he'd spend the whole day working on a stupid project about the popularity of tragedies in Shakesperian Era writing.

When he got to the library Danny was standing outside leaning against the building. He pushed off when he saw him and pulled something out of his pocket. Carson reached for the door but stopped cold when a printed copy of a news article was thrust in front of him.

Daniel looked at him excitedly, "Is this you?"

Carson stared down at it and had to quickly restrain his reaction. He recognized it immediately. The article was from his local paper when he was 14, the title read, "Local Boy Defies Physics Stopping Car from Hitting a Child."

Daniel had spent the previous night cyberstalking Carson after he finally finished all the assigned reading. There was absolutely no trace of him on social media but he did find several odd news articles. His name was also listed by the college as a Graduate of Human Biology.

"Yeah that's me, but every word in that article is false. I hope you didn't waste too much time reading it," Carson said dryly. He sidestepped him and walked into the library. It was practically deserted. Not having an actual excuse for the claims in the article, Carson really hoped he could avoid it altogether.

"It says that a car was heading towards an eight year old girl when it suddenly stopped, the front crumpled in like it hit an invisible wall a mere foot away from collision. There's even a picture. The car is stopped in the middle of the road with nothing else around it but it's beat to shit. Then that looks like you, kind of, maybe."

Carson's eyes dulled like this conversation was utterly exhausting. "If you're that curious, the car in the picture swerved to hit another car to protect the child crossing the street. The first car drove away in a hit and run. And if you want the real gossip, I'm pretty sure it was my history teacher." Carson said. Everyone in his town knew what he was and jumped on the chance to blame him as often as they could so he got used to lying on his feet.

"Really? I guess that makes sense. But why does it say that you passed out on the scene and got taken to the hospital. I mean, there was a whole car accident and you were the only person that got hurt?" He laughed.

Carson shot him a murderous glare, "It was very surprising." Daniel looked down at the ground in shame.

"Sorry..."

"Kids came up with a lot of rumors and bullied me until the rest of the town believed them. I bet this isn't only paper you found making crazy accusations."

Once inside Carson headed towards the cafe instead of the group study rooms.

"Well, sorry to hear that. So were you bullied a lot in school then?" He asked curiously. Daniel was determined to figure him out and he couldn't do that without striking a nerve or two.

"You sure ask a lot of questions."

Carson got in line with Daniel following closely behind. He finally went quiet after that last remark. It was already a few minutes past the time they were all supposed to meet but knowing how long they could be working, it was too much of a risk not to get coffee first.

He felt around in his pockets when he got to the register. "Oh shit, I don't think I brought my wallet." Carson said, giving Danny an expectant look. He figured he had him feeling just guilty enough to buy him a cappuccino.

"Ugh, fine," he pulled out his old leather wallet and handed the lady a 5.

Carson laughed, "that's such a dad wallet."

"What does that even mean?"

--

When they got up to the fifth floor, coffee in hand, the two girls were nowhere to be found. Figures. Daniel used the group chat to ask them where they were. After all it was possible they were simply late.

"We went to the desk but they wouldn't give us a room, so now we're wandering." Daniel relayed the message to Carson who frowned in thought.

"Tell them to come back up. I'll get us a room."

Looking suspicious enough already this was probably a terrible idea but he was impatient and little pissed off to be honest. He quickly turned towards the rooms, hoping to make it to one before this Danny guy so he wouldn't see him open it.

"Wait how are you going to do that? The help desk is that way," he asked, jogging to catch up. Great.

If the desk lady wouldn't give those girls a room then she probably wouldn't give him one either, also he just didn't feel like dealing with that. Daniel made it clear he wouldn't be too easy to shake off, getting rid of his plan to just open the door with magic. Instead he got out his student ID and pretended to swipe the scanner next to the door. The red dot turned green as he did.

"Woah. Do you have special access or something?" Danny asked.

Carson just hummed vaguely and sat down in the first chair he saw. He'd been doing such a good job not doing any magic since he moved out that even a little trick like that was tiring. Carson didn't want his reputation to follow him to university, but now that he was almost done with his Masters degree he found himself caring less and less.

Pulling out his own phone, Carson texted the group chat, "508."

Danny still had that childlike look of amazement on his face when he looked up again and Carson groaned internally.

"Where else can you get into?" He asked excitedly.

"Wherever I want. Wake me up when they get here." Carson pulled his hood up and laid his head down on the table. He wasn't really going to sleep, he just needed a break from talking. God this was going to be a long day.

Carson heard Kelsey and Ava talking long before they made it to the study room. They clearly knew each other before taking this class.

"Hi, how have you been?" Kelsey walked in first, carrying her own coffee cup, she looked at them both, her face pinching in thought, "Daniel and... Carson?" She struggled to put a name to the back of Carson's hood.

Now for the most interesting part of any group project, seeing who would take charge first. Carson finally straightened back up as they sat down on opposite sides of the table, putting Ava next to him.

"So, Tragedy, where do we start?" She asked.

Carson sat back and waited while everyone looked around awkwardly.

"Hey how did you get a room anyway that bitch at the counter made up some policy about needing a professor's permission for these rooms." Kelsey commented.

Daniel's face lit up again, "oh you should have seen it. Carson just swiped his ID and opened the door like magic."

Thank god Carson had just swallowed his coffee because otherwise he'd be choking on it at the mention of "magic".

"This is a library, not a bank. I just opened the door," Carson said lamely. "Anyways, we need to divide up tasks before we do anything else, and come up with a central theme so we're all on the same page. I think we should address the political implications of Tragedies written around that time. They were widely popular but very controversial."

Everyone stopped and stared at him. Either he'd completely lost them or he'd gotten more antisocial than he thought if that was a shocking amount of words to come out of his mouth. Internally Carson was cursing himself for accidentally taking on the role of the leader. He'd have to work even harder to pawn off that responsibility now.

"Right. I think the professor wants us to use quotes from the literature in the project but he also expects us to do a little research and come up with a thesis, not just a word by word analysis of the reading," Ava said. Meanwhile Kelsey was muttering something under her breath about the professor having a stick up his ass.

It looked like they were finally getting on track when Ava stopped suddenly, "hey what happened on the first day of class?" She asked.

Carson's blood turned to angry sludge. He was really tired of explaining himself. "Nothing, happened, I'm just clumsy."

He shot Daniel a look who thankfully tried to smooth things over, "Yeah he just tripped into the desk and it made a lot of noise, they ought to just nail them down." Ava hummed in response, not quite satisfied with that answer but ready to drop it.

--

After coming up with ideas for their individual parts they did some quiet work. That way they could have an outline done to share before they leave. The longer Carson strained to read the tiny text in his book the more he realized he was getting a headache. Not a migraine, but he didn't feel great. They'd been working on this for hours now, Carson checked his phone to see just how long it had actually been. They got to the library at 3pm and it was now closing in on 8pm. The worst part? He'd woken up late, gotten dressed, then came straight here. Meaning he'd slept through breakfast and forgotten lunch. Typical. You'd think after living alone for a few years a person would learn to take care of themself.

Daniel gave him an odd look, "Did you leave the oven on or something?"

Carson frowned. How the hell was this guy always so good at reading him? "No, it's nothing."

He really, really wished that it was nothing and he could just go back to reading but his body was making itself clear that it would not be neglected so easily. A dizzy feeling flowed through him as the blood rushed through his head. He felt sick.

Low blood sugar, it had it's own unmistakable brand of awful. Carson quickly shoved his hands under the table so it wouldn't so obvious that they were starting to shake. His brain frantically searched for solutions. The cafe? Closed. Snacks? Didn't pack any. Vending Machine? Yes. He had enough change in his jacket to get something from the vending machine he'd spotted near the bathrooms. It would look less suspicious if he waited a few minutes then left casually but a sudden churning in his stomach decided for him. The time to leave is right now, or better yet, five minutes ago.

Carson pushed way from the table clumsily then stepped around it to get to the door. Daniel followed him with his eyes which were now pinched with concern. He wanted to follow him and ask if he was okay, but valuing his life, he decided to just let him go with no further comment.

Carson was visibly unsteady on his feet. He wasn't diabetic so low blood sugar wouldn't kill him but it sure felt like it could. A general numbness spread through his body. Next was the mysterious cold sweat that he could distinctly feel despite knowing his skin was completely dry and the clammy feeling was just in his head. His body had a tendency to wait until the very last second to alert him of a problem which was why all the symptoms seemed to slam into him at once.

"Just make it to the vending machine and get a snack. You just have to make it that far." Carson urged himself as he wove between tall bookshelves. He was starting to feel a bit light headed too. Perfect.

The vending machines came into sight in front of him, tucked into their own little alcove. He was so close, so close, so... nauseous. Gonna throw up. Change of plans. He walked right past the machines and into the men's bathroom, his heart sunk as he did. But throwing up in the hallway was simply not an option. He dove for the furthest stall and just barely got the door locked before dry-heaving over the toilet. After a few unproductive minutes of that he coughed up some the coffee he had earlier and his stomach finally seemed satisfied after rearranging its contents. Carson leaned against the wall heavily, sliding down to sit on the tile. Why am I like this? Oh right it's because I'm forgetful, irresponsible, and stupid he chided himself. Closing his eyes, Carson focused on regaining his strength so he could at least buy some food then come back to this spot. He was finally about to stand up when the door swung open. Carson froze.

"Carson, are you in here?"

It was Danny, of course.

"Yeah," he replied. It would only seem more weird if he didn't respond.

"You've been gone kinda a long time. The girls were starting to get worried." He said tentatively.

"Well I'm fine, so either take a piss or get out, would you?" Carson snapped impatiently. He wished Daniel would just shut the door already so he could suffer in peace.

Daniel rolled his eyes, "It's getting late so everyone wants to wrap up, make sure we all know what to work on, and go home. So are you coming back now?" He asked. Usually his line of questioning would be more like "Are you okay?" "What are you doing in here?" "Do you need any help?" "Are you sick?" but with Carson he'd learned the beat around the bush a little knowing he wouldn't answer any direct questions like that nicely.

Carson tried to push himself to a stand up but ended up tripping over his own feet somehow, ending up on his hands and knees. Guess that answers that question. "No," he said plainly.

"What'll it take to get you out of this bathroom?" Danny sighed, still standing by the door. He'd heard shuffling just now but still didn't really know what Carson was doing in there.

With a grimace Carson swallowed his pride and asked for help, "Um, a bag of crackers would be nice."

Daniel's brows furrowed at the strange request, but even more so at the small voice it was requested in. Crackers? That was really what he wanted right now?

"Okay, wait here."

A moment later he came back in with a small bag of cheezits and bent over looking for Carson's feet to see which stall he was in. He was surprised to see that he was most likely sitting down against the furthest wall. In the back of Daniel's mind he noted that being on the ground was a bad sign.

Meanwhile Carson was cringing with every fiber of his being. He hated being like this. If Daniel had just left he probably could have gotten them himself and avoided all this. But truthfully he still felt a little dizzy and sick.

"Um, so what did you want crackers for? You're not going to eat them in here are you? That's unsanitary." Daniel called out before sliding the bag under the door.

Just seeing the bag ignited a gnawing hunger in him. Whatever half-formed insult he had on the tip of his tongue was quickly forgotten in favor of food. Sweet, sweet sustenance. Carson tore open the bag and threw a few into his mouth, careful not to eat them too quickly.

"You know this is super weird right?" Danny asked.

"Whatever," Carson grumbled. His voice was muffled by the crackers.

"Wait a second," he paused, "were you hiding in here... because you were hungry? Seriously?" Daniel scoffed. As tough as his deskmate liked to act, he was surprisingly childish.

"Well you don't have to be a dick about it. Low blood sugar is a real and serious condition, asshole," Carson muttered. There was no real anger to his words though. He just had a habit of swearing more when being defensive. Daniel stopped laughing.

There was a rapping on the door, "Um, it's Ava. What the hell is taking you guys so long?" She called out.

"We'll be back in a minute," Daniel yelled back.

"That's what you said when you left ten minutes ago," she said impatiently.

Carson scooped out the last of the crumbs from his bag of crackers and got up. He still felt a little off but the threat of throwing up or passing out upon standing was no longer there so that's good. He reluctantly unlocked the door and walked past Danny to get to the sink.

"You look, not-healthy."

Carson scowled and took a look at himself in the mirror before splashing some water on his face. Daniel was right, despite being a lot steadier there was still a sickly paleness to his face.

--

They walked back to the study room where Kelsey and Ava were already half-packed up and ready to go. Carson sat back down in his seat and glanced at all the papers scattered across the table.

"So here's the plan..." Ava gave a detailed description of everything they'd decided since he left. It was a solid outline. And if anyone had any more questions they could just text between meet-ups.

"Oh look, it's already pretty dark outside. I hadn't even noticed," Kelsey said peeking through the blinds. "Now I'll have to have walk home in the dark."

"College campuses have some the highest rates of sexual assault." Carson said absentmindedly.

"Why would you say that right now?" Kelsey shivered.

Carson looked up at everyone's mildly horrified faces, "What? It's true, it's dangerous out there. People need to be careful." He defended.

"Well now you both have to walk us home, since you kept us here so late doing whatever the hell you were doing." Ava said crossing her arms.

"You say that like I wasn't already going to walk you home," he said. Good job Carson, real smooth. Ava's expression turned blank and confused for a second before going back to it's previous tense, subtle annoyance.

"Fine, let's get going. It would make sense to walk with whoever lives closest to each other. I live off campus."

"Same," Carson added.

Kelsey and Daniel both lived close to the dorms so it made sense for them to go together.

[jessiewre]

Day 57

Sun 1st Mar

KILIMANJARO 5KM FUN RUN DAY (& half marathon apparently) 🏔🏄🏻‍♀️🥇🏃🏻‍♂️

Despite Phil’s clear natural ability to run extremely well, he gets himself all worked up when he has a race on, so he woke up that day feeling a bit anxious. He did about 8 nervous poos before we even left the hotel.

I was still not convinced about wearing running leggings in the heat and while Phil was in the loo, I looked around his bag for alternatives. Phil’s bag is a treasure trove of comfortable items and I needed something comfortable - shorts ideally - but not too short shorts. And then Walaaa! I found some. Perfect. I put them on and they were SO comfortable and airy. There was just one problem...which Phil spotted straight away.

Phil walked back into the room and looked at me with wide eyes, shaking his head

‘Jess, no, no no no you cannot wear those. You look...ridiculous’.

Ok so maybe Phil’s surfer board shorts weren’t the normal choice for running but they ticked so many boxes!

‘But they are comfy!’ I said, knowing full well that he was right.

I did look a little...casual and surfer-like.

He then said the ultimate supportive thing (even though he didn’t mean a word of it) and told me that If I wanted to wear them, then screw it, whatever would make me most comfortable. And I have to say I appreciated him saying it.

But I had a moments clarity and changed into the running leggings, crossing my fingers I wouldn’t regret it. Phil breathed a sigh of relief that I would not be embarrassing him in front of all his running pals.

Phil managed to stomach a banana and we left in the dark to flag down a tuc tuc. Annoyingly, 3 people had just left the hotel and were trying to flag one down in front of us, but they weirdly walked a few metres up the road. So we ended up flagging a tuc tuc down before them. As we went to drive past them, I told the driver to stop and asked them if they wanted to jump in, cos I’m a dead nice person an that.

I did have to sit on Phil’s lap which I don’t think his legs were very grateful for considering the task that lay ahead of them, but I personally thought it worked out fantastically for us as our guests insisted on paying, saving us a whole £1. THINGS WERE LOOKING UP, THIS WAS GOING TO BE A GREAT DAY AFTER ALL.

There were thousands of people around (none in board shorts weirdly and lots in running leggings) and we went into the stadium to watch the beginning of the marathon. The view directly behind it was an EPIC clear view of Kilimanjaro mountain. Amazing!

There was a great buzzy atmosphere and we watched as Olympian standard runners stood in position ready to go at the front of the pack. Then BOOM, off they went, all 800 of them! As soon as they did though, the panic set in with Phil. We rushed off to find his starting position for the Half marathon, as awkwardly, it was starting in a completely different place outside the stadium. We did a cringe speed-walk up to the start point where THOUSANDS of people were piling in to do the half marathon (WAY more popular than the full marathon - I guess people are just lazy huh). Phil made his way into the middle of the crowd, but I spotted a route to get closer to the front so shouted him over to give it a try. It worked, and he got closer to the front, but frustratingly I knew he would have been better even further forward as lets be honest, he’s normally faster than the majority of runners 💪🏽 😏

It was too late though and 7am arrived, Phil set off and that was it. GOOD LUCK PHIL I thought as I watched his butters red hat disappear into the crowd. But then I walked off to find the 5km starting point and thought Screw it, I need the luck now, he’ll be fine.

The 5km was full of all shapes, sizes, ages & genders. Some people had jeans on (still no board shorts though), there were LOADS of children and it was all very lighthearted with tons of people doing a lot of walking. A real mixed bag that goes to show that taking part is the most important thing. I was determined to run the whole way though and for the first 3km, I was feeling good! A few kids had started to run with me and we highfived as we went along, overtaking tons of people. But by 4km, they had run out of energy and sunk back as I stormed ahead (yep, I’m faster than 10 year olds, no biggie) and suddenly I could see the finish line! OMG I looked at my phone and realised I could achieve a sub 28 minute 5km here! Jeez I hadn’t run that fast in years! I picked up the pace a bit and felt so happy (that it would be over soon). I was BUZZIN. But as the finish line got closer, I started to notice that no one was stopping. What weirdos I thought. They were all continuing forward. Hang on a minute...oh shittttt I was approaching the START line, it was NOT the finish line. Urgh, my mood dipped and I was GUTTED. Taking part SUCKS, I thought and I trudged on feeling very tired. The next 5 minutes of uphills were not so fun and there were so many corners, every time revealing that the finish line was not there. But I FINALLY made it back into the stadium and finished the bloody thing, without walking at all (god I wanted to walk up those hills) and devoured the bottle of water they gave me. I looked at my phone. 34 minutes. Not 28 minutes lol but not bad. Considering I was at high altitude and there were so many hills, I was happy, and at least I did it like. Ok fine, it IS the taking part that counts. But no time to lose, it was nearly 8:30am and I needed to get into position to see Phil finish!

I wobbled my way over to the stands like a granny with piles (nb. Not all Granny’s have piles), and watched as half marathon runners trickled in. The weird thing was though that NO ONE was cheering or clapping. It was so quiet. Hundreds of people were watching on happily, smiling away, but there was zero whooping. So weird. I’ve not done loads of races but the ones I have done in England have been amazing, mainly due to the crowds of people cheering you on and offering support and encouragement. I felt kind of bad for the runners as reaching the end of the race with a quiet crowd staring at you looking like a bit of an anti-climax.

I found a spot by a sagging fence and was able to see the runners turn the corner onto the home straight. Every time anyone with red appeared, my heart skipped, but it wasn’t for another 15 minutes that I spotted Phils red vest powered towards the finish. Fortunately he was not wearing the hat but I saw that he hadn’t lost it, it was just strapped to his vest. Damn He was going super fast but I managed to film him as he finished with pure pain and relief on his face.

He got his medal and water and I ran round to congratulate him, but mainly for him to congratulate me of course.

He said the race had been super hard, with 10km of UPHILL to start off (HOW GROSS IS THAT) followed by some super steep downhills. But he said the views were incredible and that it was an amazing experience. He was glad he’d done it and he was glad it was over. I told him, its the taking part that counts babe.

We shared some cashew nuts and had a few beers in the shade then realised it was not even 9am 😂.

We went across to the unofficial ‘warm down’ that some bloke had decided to host and had a bit of a laugh doing that. But it was quickly getting much hotter and I still had my leggings on of course, so we jumped into a tuc tuc back to the hotel for showers and a refresh. We were back by 10:30am, madness to think about what we’d already done that day. And the fact that we’d basically had nuts and beers for breakfast.

We ate the leftover pizza slices from the night before and had a chill out for our aching bodies. Well, I was pretty knackered from the run, but on the other hand, Phil seemed rather spritely. Hunger kicked in and chirpy Phil offered to go and collect a takeaway for us! Well it was funny he said that, cos I was just about to offer myself, but hey, he got in there first. Good for him, and even better for me.

Phil rocked up 45 minutes later with a bag of curry - dahl makhani, veg biryani & garlic naan - and we sat on the floor having our romantic curry picnic like it was a midnight feast. An awesome way to celebrate my running achievement & also Phil’s half race.

After more rest, we went out to find a sports bar to catch some football, but Pepper’s bar was soooo dry with no vibe (or WiFi, can you bloody believe it) . We figured there must be a marathon party, so followed our hostels advice and ended up at the HUGE beer garden of Hugo’s. It was rammed with people who had obviously been drinking all afternoon (or perhaps since before 9am??) and they were having a great time. There were empty bottles everywhere as the staff couldn’t keep up with the drinking speed, with a DJ on a stage and TV screens showing football. In the middle of peoples seats, mini dance floors were popping up as peoples favourite tunes came on. We grabbed some beers from a lady who insisted on serving us like table service despite everyone else using the bar, and we found a box to sit on and watch the crowds & Man Utd game at the same time.

We drank beers for a few hours, chatting to people and having a laugh with others who were dancing. It was really fun. But Phil suddenly dipped and said he was too tired to stay out any longer. It had been an early start I suppose.

So we hopped into a tuc tuc and tipsily headed off back to the hostel for showers and bed, popping into a shop on arrival for some dinner-substitute snacks (Phil had discovered a certain crisp that tasted a lot like Wotsits apparently).

It was only when we got back to the (very hot) room and got ready for bed that I realised it was only 7:30pm...

[esjonaforever-blog]

Just need a little time !

So not long ago I started a KETO diet. For as long as I remember I was against dieting but I guess I reached the point in my life where I just had enough of pretending I didn’t care. Of course I care, most people will, despite what they say. KETO sounded the most suitable. It throws you in the deep water and you feel empty after 3 days, a feeling I almost forgotten. Quite strict but as someone who eats everything and is not too fussy I was excited to see recipes that go around the problem and use creative solutions. The greatest discovery for me was the versatility of cauliflower and courgette. So far I made noodles, and rice and wraps and didn’t even think of going back to the ‘real’ thing. I was also happy to realise after two weeks that all this time I was counting wrong carbs and instead of looking counting 20g of net carbs I counted 20g of carbs. Of course that meant I could have eaten more than I had, but at least not realising that gave me a good 2 week head start. Now I am almost about a month into the diet. Went from 74kg to 70kg so far and I am happy with how it’s going. Few days ago I got myself some coconut flour, almond flower and zero sugar, zero carb syrups. Made some crepes and I must say it worked very well. The syrup’s consistency is something to get used to as it’s thicker than the maple syrup and it coats the whole of your mouth if too much is eaten as the same time, but spread thinly across the crepe worked very well. As I got used to the texture of it I found I was dipping the crepe more and more into the syrup.

So the diet is working out fine. With it came the will to get up early in the morning which I was unable to do for the past year or more. Now I’m getting up at 5:30 which is a blessing and no longer a pain. I have time to drink my tea, play a game, play with the cat, dry my hair. Before I left had 10 minutes for everything and it was just too rushed. So those two things - diet and getting up early so far are being achieved. Now what I have left to deal with and what always seemed to be in my way is Time Managment. There are so many things I want to do, so many ideas but when I look at the time I simply don’t know how to get them done. I’ve cleaned the cats room and made myself an artsy corner. I always liked having a little hideaway. There I am able to concentrate perfectly well, but even with having that space the problem of time managment stayed. I simply spend too much time on insignificant tasks. From now on I will follow the process my boyfriend uses. When he does work he stops every hour and looks at how it’s going. If what he does is taking forever and seems to be going nowhere he moves on to another task. That’s what I have to do as I am able to dwell on the same thing for hours and end up not having done anything despite the will and concentration. Because there are many thing I would like to do I decided to start drawing in the morning as I wake up instead of playing a game. This will stop the nagging I feel every time I’m working on 3D modelling, and I won’t feel guilty for spending time on drawing when I should be 3D modelling as they’re made to have their own time now.

To give it a nice start I finished this illustrator piece today morning.

[arealcrow-archive]

he’s a demon, he’s a devil, he’s a doll

Neo-Noir au with micah, brief appearance by steel, but mostly sidesteps flirt and do crimes together. fuck cops and fuck hollow ground. thanks @iseektheholygrail for letting me borrow jasper for this.

Twenty more minutes and we would’ve been fine. Twenty more minutes and we would’ve been long gone. Always better to be lucky than good, and tonight it looks like I’m neither.

ao3, 2.9k words

Los Diablos. A rainy Friday in November. 2020.

I’ve got no good reason to be here. That’s not to say I don’t have any reason at all to be here, just none that are good. No, tonight I’m here on strictly business. A job, and a big one. One that should set us up nicely for a while, give me the space to lay low while I live big.

Well. Maybe it’s not all strictly business. I’ve been to this bar every Friday night for over a month, making myself look like a regular. Sat at quiet spot at the bar for a few hours each week, sipping whiskey sours and taking note of security rotations. Chatted up bartenders, played cards in the back. I got real friendly, but never too personal. It’s an extensive casing of a joint, granted, but the payoff’s worth it. That, and the view.

-

5 weeks earlier

This isn’t the first casing I’ve done. Though espionage isn’t exactly one of my specialties, I’ve got the eye for details we need here. If only I could stay focused on the task at hand, and not the details of the bartender with the soft eyes. He’d caught my attention the second I’d walked in. Of course he did. How could he not, with an indecipherable set to his lips and warm glint to his eyes?

I can’t help but wonder what he would look like smiling at me. Laughing at a well timed joke. Moaning. I have to shake that thought from my head before it takes root, like a kid worried that his face will get stuck in the expression he’s making. Getting distracted before I find what I came here for would be a rookie mistake.

Maybe I lingered on the idea too long, or maybe it was just too vivid. Maybe I just can’t help myself around tall, dark, handsome men. I should’ve been paying better attention to who was at the table with me. Multitasking is supposed to be something I’m good at. This was a challenge I just wasn’t up to, feeling those grey eyes on my back the whole time I was playing poker.

Or maybe it was that I couldn’t read him. Not a single stray thought or feeling off him. Shields that strong meant he was one of two things; epileptic, or someone else with some kind of telepathic gift.

I guess it doesn’t matter the reason, I ended up at the bar either way. If I had to make a guess, I’d say that’s where the job went wrong. Curiosity always kills the cat. Worse things could’ve happened, though. I could’ve missed the chance to learn his name.

“Jasper,” he tells me when I ask, and I can tell he’s not lying. No, that habitual downturn to his lips shifts. It’s not quite a smile, but close enough to leave me wanting me more.

“Jasper,” I say back. Let his name roll off my tongue as my eyes slide down him. Maybe that’s a little too forward, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “Like the stone. Pretty. It’s fitting.”

He doesn’t blush like I want him to, but that’s not a surprise. I don’t need him to react to smell the blood in the water between us. “Though, I bet with a face like yours, you get told how pretty you are on a nightly basis.”

That gets me a small, polite laugh. The laugh of someone who’s hoping you’re at least going to tip them well. That’s fair.

“It happens. Every now and then, sure.” No smile, yet, he still just looks amused. And suspicious. That’s also fair, in an establishment brimming with the wrong kind of folks.

“So modest,” I wink at him, and take a sip of my drink. It’s strong. “What’s a civilized kid like you doing in a den of thieves like this?”

“Making a living.” That felt pointed.

“That makes two of us,” I let an easy smile slip across my mouth, hoping my eyes don’t give away too much of the heat starting to itch at the back of my thoughts. It’s distracting, so distracting. I’m supposed to be casing the damn joint, not pining over eyes like fog rolling into the bay in the early morning.

I can feel eyes on my back again, and a glance over my shoulder confirms they’re not the kind I want. A tall man, one I’d been playing poker with earlier. He’d been watching me like a hawk then, too; for different reasons than I thought, it seems.

“Someone caught your eye?” Jasper asks me, noticing my distraction.

“No one more than you,” I shoot back, turning back to face him fully despite the burning holes in the back of my head. It’s not a lie, and it’s what finally gets me a smile. Seems like I might have caught him off guard with that one.

“I think I’ve caught someone else’s eye, though. And not in the fun way.” I don’t know what compels me to tell him this. Sure, a handsome face always puts me at ease but this is a different kind of comfort. Feels dangerous.

With a resigned sigh, I pull out enough cash to cover my bill with a generous tip. It’s a little early to call it a night, but better safe than sorry this time around. I’ve got nothing good to report back yet, nothing worth blowing my cover for.

“Don’t be a stranger, kid.”

-

3 weeks earlier

There’s a whiskey sour waiting on the bar for me when I sit down. I try not to put too much stock into the warm feeling of familiarity seeping into my gut, have to remind myself I barely know this man.

“Evening, Micah.”

“Evenin’, doll. Thanks,” I tip my drink at him in acknowledgement before taking a sip. Maybe I shouldn’t have told him my real name. It’s too late to worry about it now.

Scanning the rest of the floor from my perch at the bar, it’s not hard to tell that something isn’t quite right tonight. Friday nights here are usually packed, the perfect environment for me to just slip into the crowd and blend. It looks like a weeknight. There’s people, The Gold Cat is never completely dead, but they’re scattered and mostly keeping to themselves. There’s not a single kingpin’s man to be spotted, and so nothing much for me to do tonight.

“Is somethin’ going on tonight, Jas? This place feels like a ghost town,” I finally ask him when my cup is empty. If I can’t get much work done, I may as well have a little fun with my night.

“Nope. Nothing that I’ve heard about.” From his tone, I suspect it’s safe to assume he hears about most things that happen relating to this bar.

“So that means you’d be free after you finish your shift then? Have time for some dinner and dancing?”

He takes a second to respond; I caught him off guard. But he doesn’t look surprised, so he must have seen this coming. I doubt he knew how impatient I’d be, though.

“I’ve still got another two hours,” he eventually settles on saying.

“That wasn’t a no. I’ve got time.”

His eyes slowly rake over me, appraising, judging. Deciding if I’m worth this time probably. Trying not to fidget under the inspection, I give him a cheesy smile. He laughs at that, and I think I can see a light pink flush rising in his cheeks. Maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

“Alright. Fine,” he says, nodding.

The grin on my face goes from put-on to genuine and beaming. I’m trying not to look excited, I’m not some kid in a candy shop. It has been too long since I’ve properly taken someone out, though, and I’d be lying if the prospect of spending real time with Jasper wasn’t making my blood quicken. Christ. I wonder if he’ll let me take him home. Maybe not home. To somewhere more private, anyway.

-

2 weeks earlier

“So, of all the gin joints and dives in the city, how’d you end up at this one?”

It was something I wanted to ask him for a few weeks now, but had never found a convenient way to bring it up. I should’ve asked before we had dinner. Before I brought him home that night, exposed more than one weakness. If he was here because he was actually working for the kingpin, like a good number of servers at The Cat, I may have just gotten in bed with the enemy.

His nonchalant shrug in response helps to relieve my tension, but the suspicion stays firmly rooted.

“They paid the best here. Flexible hours and good security don’t hurt.”

I spend too long searching his words for any hidden meaning. Any signs of danger. A lie, or a half-truth. He notices.

“I didn’t know who owned the place until I bought it.” He gets straight to the point with it. I haven’t said anything about it, but working here he has to know the kingpin has enemies. He continues more quietly, leaning forward so I’m the only one close enough to hear him. “I’m not going to tell anyone what you’re doing here. Not tryna’ get you killed after just one date.”

Never able to focus on business, I follow down that rabbit hole. “‘Just one date’? Sounds like you’re expecting a second.”

“Maybe I am. Depends.”

“On what?”

“If you’re busy after this. If you’d like to be.”

“I certainly would like to be.”

Jasper glances over at the clock and then back to me. He hasn’t stepped back and we’re still entirely too close, voices intimately quiet.

“Well. We can leave whenever you’re done. I’m finished as of three minutes ago. Maybe we skip the wining and dining tonight?”

My eyebrows stretch towards my hairline, surprise written clearly on my face and smugness slowly revealed on his. I feel outplayed; he’s got a better poker face by far.

“Uh, yeah. Yes. Definitely, absolutely. I’m, I’m done.” I’m tripping over my words, struggling to catch up now that Jasper’s taken the lead. I’ve only got a short moment to collect myself as he instructs me to wait for him there at the bar.

That’s all the time it takes for someone to slide into the seat next to me. It’s a tall, dark haired man I’d played poker with a few weeks prior. He’s got a sharp look to him tonight, the air between us already rife with tension.

“You’re a new face around here,” his tone is conversation, his expression is not.

“Relatively,” I shrug, making sure to give nothing hostile back. Playing dumb rarely fails for me. “Y’all don’t get a lot of fresh blood in here?”

“As much as any place. You just happen to be my type.” The wink he gives me is dead eyed, a threat. He’s just going through the motions of flirting, diverting the eye of any onlookers from the threat he’s making out in the open. It’s like a well planned magic trick, premeditated.

“I’m just passing through.”

I can see Jasper round a corner, now changed out of his work clothes into something more casual. I’m trying to diffuse, but that’s never something I’ve been good at. Escalation is more my speed. He’s eyeing the situation carefully as he approaches, with a look on his face like he’s got a plan. I don’t like hedging my bets on an unknown element, but in my experience two heads are always better than one.

“Ready to go, babe?” I try and keep my jaw from dropping at the term of endearment. The fondness is likely put on for the man next to me, and judging by the look of barely restrained surprise on his face it’s effective. Not that I’m doing a much better job hiding my own shock.

“Yeah. Let’s ankle.” I slide out of my seat at the bar and comfortably into place next to Jasper, wrapping an arm around his waist for good measure. If he’s made the decision that he’s going to be my cover, then I’m going to run with it.

Despite my arm around him, he’s still leading, guiding me towards a door I’ve never been through. It takes us out to a back alley, and my mental map of the building gets a little more complete.

-

Present day.

I’m halfway through my second drink of the night when the shouting starts.

The commotion actually starts when a set of cops in full gear kick down the doors, but I’m distracted enough asking Jasper inane questions that a dramatic entrance doesn’t catch my attention. In a bar full of criminals it’s on sight with the pigs, so of course a fight breaks out instantly. The sirens outside are on in a matter of minutes.

It only takes a quick shared glance between myself and Jasper, a jerk of my head in the vague direction of a back exit, and we’re moving. It’s easy for the two of us to fall into a wordless partnership, feels natural as breathing. This is where I’m most comfortable anyway, in a crisis, in a crowd, with someone to back me up. Even if the situation isn’t ideal.

Twenty more minutes and we would’ve been fine. Twenty more minutes and we would’ve been long gone. Always better to be lucky than good, and tonight it looks like I’m neither. We get about thirty seconds of respite after we make it out the back door before a figure in the shadows clears their throat. I should have seen him as soon as we’d walked out the door, it’s a silhouette I would recognize with my eyes closed.

“Micah Raziel. Word on the street is you’ve been telling a lot of tales for a dead man.”

“You don’t sound surprised. If you’re not here to confront me about that, you’re here for something else.

“This city’s gone to hell in a handbasket,” Investigator, formerly Detective, Steel says, stepping into the light. The years of injustice weighing on his shoulders are clear in his words, but clearer in his tired eyes, the grey starting to creep into his hair. He looks different, I’d expected that, but now how much older he looks. I can’t imagine what he sees when he looks at me, now. Seven years is a long time.

“Los Diablos has nothing left to lose, and everything to hide. That raid going on in there is just a show, something to keep the public from being suspicious about Hollow Ground having bought out the entire damned police force by now.”

Wei Chen’s always had a suspicious streak a mile wide. It’s what made him a fantastic detective. It’s also what got him kicked out the force after Commissioner Hood’s untimely death. He took the best detective in the force with him when he left, and it wasn’t long before two rookies, fed up with the system, followed them. He didn’t bring any of them with him tonight, to my surprise.

I’m not sure if I’m relieved or disappointed that Ortega isn’t here. It’s hard to guess whether Chen has told him yet that I’m not as dead as the papers made me out to be. Probably not, or he would have found me by now. Ricardo always found his target. Always got his man.

“And I’m guessing you want to do something about that? You never could just let it go, Steel.”

“We’re already doing something about it. We need help now. You and I both know Hollow Ground’s been using his paid off cops to take down his rivals, your lot must be coming up on his hit list.”

It’s true. It’s why we were trying this job, try and hit him before he hit us. I dare a glance back to Jasper, guilt creeping into my conscience. He doesn’t look bothered, much less surprised, but that’s par for the course. I’m going to owe him some explanations after this.

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” I say back slowly. “What kind of help?”

“Your kind of help,” crime, “To cover the bases we can’t.” His jaw is tense, I doubt this was an easy decision to come to. He’s been aware of the fact that I’m not dead long enough to track what I’m doing, there must have been a reason he didn’t follow up on it until now. Maybe he knew the danger he’d risk putting himself, and his colleagues, in.

“I haven’t told anyone about you yet, or that I’m here.” I slowly raise my eyebrows at that, the shock growing as he steps out of the shadows and extends a metallic hand out towards me. As far as I remember, that hand was still fleshy last time I saw him. That was years ago, and time slows for no man. The lines of it are etched into both of our faces.

There’s a business card held between those fingers, startlingly bare of information except for an address and a phone number.

“Ortega will be there. A week from now, 7 pm sharp.” Chen says as I stare down at it. He says it like it should entice me to show up, not make me question stopping to have this conversation in the first place even more.

“It’s your choice. That’s all we can do for this city. Choose.”

[bubble-tea-bunny]

ma jolie

[connor x reader]

author’s note: inspired by the painting by picasso. we analyzed it in my art history class last spring and it went from my least favorite work we looked at to my most favorite. hope you enjoy <3

word count: 2,510

A glance at your watch lets you know there are thirty minutes left of your shift. You brush back the strands of hair that had slipped from your ponytail, but they slide back down and rest in the peripherals of your vision as you look down. With a quiet huff that ruffles them slightly, you instead tuck them behind your ears to keep them out of the way. Much better.

You’re sitting cross legged in the middle of the aisle alone, an open box next to you from which you grab a handful of books to position on the bottom shelf. There had been a shipment today of a new novel. It’s science fiction, the cover depicting a make-believe city with towering skyscrapers and a rail system that curled between them all like a snake. You’d scanned the summary on the back and it sounded interesting—something about a beautiful metropolis and the underground society that flourished just beneath it. Maybe you’ll buy a copy sometime.

“I was told I might find you here.”

Halfway through sliding a few copies into place, you hear the newcomer, and you look up to find Connor standing at the end of the aisle, grinning softly. You mirror the expression despite the exhaustion wracking your body (it’s been a long day). There’s just something about seeing him that relaxes you. He’s someone familiar, warm and welcoming, and your body can’t help but react to him. You wonder if he knows your very being has been Pavlov’d to his presence.

“Hey,” you greet quietly. There’s no need to speak any louder because it’s practically silent throughout the bookstore. “What are you doing here?” You notice he’s not in his normal uniform: he’s in jeans and a shirt, and he has a jacket thrown on with a beanie sitting snuggly on his head. He had work just like you did, and you got off at the same time, but it seems he had time to go home. (You struggle to say Connor ever really has an official “clock out time” to his job, since crimes don’t really happen on a conventional 9 to 5. He just goes in when he’s needed, no matter the time of day.)  

Connor starts walking towards you, hands tucked in his coat pockets. “The lieutenant gave me an early day. Got bored waiting at home for you so I thought I’d pick you up. Maybe go to that café you like?”

You stand since you’ve finished putting the books away, and your neck thanks you now that you don’t have to tilt your head back to look up at him. “That sounds good. But I still have half an hour of my shift.”

“I can wait.”

“Great.” You smile one more time before you pick up the empty box and continue on to your next task. As you leave the aisle, you look behind you to see Connor has bent down to glance at the novel you’d just arranged. Before you round the corner, you catch a glimpse of him grabbing a copy.

The last thirty minutes passes by quickly as you help all the customers stopping by the service desk in search of a certain book and even chat with one or two about recommendations or to discuss the new releases. As thirty minutes turns into twenty, and twenty into ten, you’re thinking of your favorite coffee order down at the café and how you can’t wait to get your hands on a fresh cup. You’re somewhat of a regular there, given that it’s on your commute home. Sometimes they give you a brownie for free. Maybe that’d be the case again tonight.

Once it’s time to clock out, you head towards the back room to grab your stuff. You pass through the science fiction section to get there and grin slightly to yourself when you see Connor has found a seat and made himself comfortable, nose buried in the book he’d picked up. His capacity to absorb and process a massive amount of information in a short time means he’s a good way through the story by now—nearly halfway there. You decide you’ll have to ask what he thinks of it.

Evidently Connor had noticed you stepping into the back room, for when you emerge, he’s no longer where you last saw him. Instead he’s by the front door, hands in his jacket pockets again as he shifts from glancing around the interior of the shop to gazing through the windows at the dark skies and bright lights. He turns to you when you approach and smiles, lifting his arm slightly and offering his hand palm-up.

“Ready?” he asks.

You nod and take his hand, and as he pushes the door open to lead you through, you glance behind you to say goodbye to your coworker.

It’s a cold night. They all have been lately. When you exhale, your breath materializes in front of you. You snuggle into Connor’s side as you start your walk through the plaza in the direction of the café, and he slips his hand from yours to wrap his arm around your shoulders and keep you close. The area is teeming with life as it usually is this time of day, but you never once have to change your path to go around anyone or slow down to prevent colliding with someone. You walk a straight line, the crowd parting almost as if they know you’re there and want to make room. You ask Connor how his day was (and ask after Sumo, your favorite dog, for you know he’d gone to Lieutenant Anderson’s residence this morning) and listen closely as he recounts it for you. (He spares you the confidential and gruesome details which honestly doesn’t leave much at all to talk about, but you’re hanging on every word there is left to say.)

You can see the lighted sign of the café coming into view, and almost on cue, your stomach grumbles. It can’t be heard over the hustle and bustle of the environment but you can feel it well enough. A part of you hopes there’s no line when you get there but you know there will be, if the rest of the plaza is this busy. They’re a popular establishment.

This whole time you’d been listening to Connor, but the shouts of a growing crowd have started to steal your attention away. And they’re what finally causes you to slow your steps. Connor’s own slow as well since he’s holding you to him, and he trails off since it’s clear you’re distracted. He glances down at you to find you looking at the protestors, and he sighs as he follows your line of sight. He’s sure you could feel the deep inhale and exhale with the way you’re pressed against him.

They have picket signs lofted high, painted with anti-android sentiments which also leave them in loud yells, cutting and venomous. The pang in your chest is hard to ignore as you watch the spectacle—one of few who do, who have stopped to see what’s going on. A majority carry on as if the protestors aren’t there, and you wish you could just keep walking, but you can’t look away. The longer you stand there, the longer you’re spending trying to wrap your head around why they say the things they do. They shoot glares towards the androids who walk past, and you know they’d lash out physically if there weren’t a few police officers who have taken point nearby in case anything gets out of hand. Those protestors are holding back, and it scares you to know they could (and would) do much, much worse.

Connor can feel how tense you are. Just ignore them he tells you softly, because you’re like a faun in the wild and a soft voice is most effective to coax you along. His words prompt you to look up at him—the look in his eyes isn’t angry, isn’t dejected. They’re indifferent, desensitized. And you purse your lips as your gaze slides to his temple where you know that blinking LED is beneath his beanie, and you want him to be mad because you’re mad—mad for him. He doesn’t react to any of it anymore and you’re frustrated that it’s come to this. Those protestors are nothing new, but you suppose hate is nothing new either.

He can see concern written all over your face. And he thinks to himself that’s just like you. Always so worried for everyone else, feeling so passionately for everyone else. He puts a grin on his face even if it’s not really genuine, and you know as much, but it’s the principle of the thing that counts, he guesses. I’m okay, he says. He does mean it. Their words don’t seep through his skin and crawl through his veins like black widows the way they do to you. It’s all impersonal. But he does hurt for you, because you’re not the one who should feel that way. You radiate empathy to a fault, and he wishes that weren’t the case. You’re not meant for a world like this.

With a quiet sigh, you finally continue walking in the direction of the café, and your eyes are trained on the lights inside like it’s a beacon and the demonstrators the jagged rocks you hope to avoid.

Connor thinks that’s the end of the conversation, for you lightened up when the two of you were at the table in the corner of the café and you were drinking your coffee and eating your brownie. He’d been asking you questions about your own day in an effort to take your mind off what you’d seen outside, but soon he doesn’t have to try. You appear to have moved on. But upon returning home, that turns out to not be the case.

You’re both on the couch watching movies on your laptop when, in the process of scrolling around for the next movie to watch, you speak up: “I just don’t get how they can think all of that.”

The statement requires no context as Connor glances at you. You’re not looking at him, eyes focused on the far wall. He can practically see the cogs spinning in your head, trying to reach a conclusion he knows you won’t reach because your nature has no grasp on the mindset of those protestors. You don’t block it out. It’s just not there.

He shrugs and slowly closes your laptop, then sets it on the coffee table. He knows you won’t be getting back to watching films anytime soon now that the conversation has circled back here. “They don’t understand androids,” he says. “They can’t make sense of them, how they can see this machine that looks so human but isn’t. So they view us as monsters.”

Your heart squeezes at the last sentence because that is the farthest thing you could ever see Connor being. And you wish those people understood, you so desperately do. There’s a rage bubbling in the pit of your stomach which always rears its head whenever this topic comes up, and you sense the corners of your eyes growing hot with tears you won’t let fall because your mind is trying to make sense of it all but it can’t. It just can’t and you’ll never understand them and you don’t think you’ll ever want to. How could you?

You clear your throat, waiting a moment until you think your voice will be steady enough to talk without it trembling. Connor sits there patiently, watching you closely.

“I visited the Cyber Life tower once in college as a field trip for one of my classes,” you start. This is news to Connor. He had no idea you’d ever stepped foot into the tower, even if this was a while ago. You’d never talked about it. “We got to look at the assembly line, see all the bits of machinery that went into making androids. And as I stood there, I wondered how all of that could come together to make something so complex. Something that looked and acted and felt so human. So much like me.”

There’s another brief bout of silence as you try to put the rest of the words together, and it’s Connor’s turn to hang off every single one like you’re giving the secret to salvation, and it’s hidden somewhere between the lines and so he better listen closely, because his life quiet literally depends on it. The LED is yellow as he takes in what you’ve said, and your eyes settle on it as you continue.

“Seeing all those parts individually made me… more appreciative. It’s different from viewing it as a whole. You have to look closer to truly understand, I think… It’s why I could never see you as a monster.” Slowly you lift your hand to brush back the strands of hair hanging over his forehead, and Connor’s eyes slide closed almost instinctively at the gentle touch, only to slide open as you then set your hand on the side of his face, and he’s falling into the infinite depths of your own eyes as you watch him. Your finger passes over the still yellow LED so lightly he might very well have imagined the sensation if he weren’t looking at you. You sigh quietly. “It’s why I love you as much as I do.”

It comes out so matter-of-factly, and Connor can sense the heaviness settling in your chest because sure the standard I love you’s and other such confessions of love for one another have been shared in the past, but this is something new entirely. You’re in love with him and you have been in love with him. You loved him before Cyber Life had even assembled him for the first time and dubbed him the RK800. Before they named him Connor. Because you fell in love with the machinery that makes him who he is, and you were floating along with all of that affection filling your heart until he came along, a culmination of all those bits and pieces that would take all you had to offer.

You gingerly stroke his cheek with your thumb, and you’re studying the back and forth motion until he sets his hand over yours, stopping your movement. Your eyes slide over to meet his. He doesn’t say anything, and the two of you sit there in a comfortable silence. You’re calming yourself down from the previous frustration you’d felt earlier in the plaza, and Connor is pondering over what you’ve just said. He swears he feels his chest tighten as he takes in the depth of it, of your feelings for him, and maybe it’s some wiring working hard as he processes things, or maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s more than that.

There aren’t many people out there who think like you do, but maybe one day, there would be.

[elane-in-the-shadows]

Red Queen Fan Fiction - Blood Curse Chapter 27

Find this on wattpad and on AO3

chapter 1

chapter 2

chapter 3

chapter 4

chapter 5

chapter 6

chapter 7

chapter 8

chapter 9

chapter 10

chapter 11

chapter 12

chapter 13

chapter 14

chapter 15

chapter 16

chapter 17

chapter 18

chapter 19

chapter 20

chapter 21

chapter 22

chapter 23

chapter 24

chapter 25

chapter 26

chapter 27

chapter 28

chapter 29

Final chapter

Mare POV

After all, the choke still reeks of ash, smoke, and death. Not because I’m caught with others in a trench, nor because we’re marching over it. Actually, we’re even a few kilometers beyond the former battlefield. But these scents have left impressions you can never escape in nights of fighting, no matter how tight I try to close my eyes, mouth, and ears. Because the gasmasks are for solders in zones with real danger of chemical weapons while I’m standing off enough to be safe from the bombs I can’t stop from falling. That’s my task here, to take the Lakelander airjets off the sky before they shoot their missiles, so all explosives going off happen only because I let them.

On my first day in the fights, General Akkadi personally showed me what she wants electricons like me to do. She pointed to the sky and told me to impair the enemy planes flying over the choke. “They don’t have a large air force, and it’s less advanced than Norta’s too,” she said. “That makes them easier targets, and it’s more likely we’ll stop their aerials attacks soon.” Then she lifted her binoculars to the twilight sky and began to warn me off the enemies above us seconds before they became visible, using her Newblood seer ability.

It took me a few tries to find the right timing and reach to hit them, and thus, I was left to wonder what they’d do, who’d suffer because of them. It was a very sobering, very frightening thought. One that continues to keep me going.

Akkadi was patient. Calmly, she reported the next jet, one after another, and every time, I tried harder until the first jet exploded in a flash of fire and purple lightning. Akkadi patted my shoulder and asked me to watch out for the next, and the next, and the next. She told our gunners when they’d make a better hit and reminded me to think of that myself. “You aren’t supposed to be able to take every plane own,” she said.

But we still shouldn’t allow any bombs to fall.

“The seer I’m assigning to you knows this as well, and he’ll point out who’ll be best,” she added.

I startled, and she shook her head. “Unfortunately, we don’t have as many seers, nor electricons, as I’d like, so occasionally, I do this duty as well,” she answered my unasked question. “But most of all,” she looked at me and over to the gunners in my team, “it is your duty, soldiers.”

So, this is what I’ve been doing in most days and nights in the weeks hence.

I came to share Tiberias’s fascination for the different types of planes as to know them helps immensely to decide how to impair them. And often, I feel pride to perform these acts to protect our army and the rest of the country. Yet, the task itself is either tedious or a surge of adrenaline. I, the gunners and the scouts securing the slope of our outpost, are supposed to look out for Lakelander soldiers sneaking in, but honestly, I doubt I’d notice them before the scouts do or our seer, Roman Eagrie, despite his eyes being fixed to the sky. They know what they’re doing.

Tonight, there aren’t much enemies coming for us. It’s always both relieving and unsettling as although I don’t have to kill anyone this way, it might just mean the Lakelanders have found a new tactic to surprise us, or that they’re aware of the Lightning Girl taking down their air force.

Eagrie said the same thing once. “Your lightning is pretty much a sign to them by now, Operative Barrow. So I have hopes you’re all ready for the time they come for us,” he said cynically.

I shrugged. “What else can I do?”

For once, Eagrie turned away from the sky to look at me. “I’ve heard the Lightning Girl is a very skilled opponent in every confrontation,” he said, and grinned. “Since we’re already trusting you with our lives.”

I blushed and told him to focus back on his task and not a minute later, I had a reason to use my lightning again.

Yet, I haven’t forgotten of change of tactics on either side could anytime.

At first, before I arrived, the Nortan and Guard forces drove the Lakelanders back over the border, into the choke, then into their own lands. But the charge stopped there and now, the only difference to last year and the 100 years before is that we’ve finally manged to enter the Lakelander territory with its swampy meadows as our battlefields.

More and more, it feels like a trap, a new strategy on the Lakelanders’ part. As the choke provided no victory, probably was never supposed to, the Lakelander generals could’ve chosen to fight on familiar grounds to defeat the “Nortan” army that became such a compound of different factions. And I dread the snapping of that trap.

The sunrise is preceded by a rainbow of colours, promising a sunny day in May after a cold night. The grey world of the twilight is only partly taking on colours as Tyton approaches our outpost. “You’re half an hour early,” I say to him.

He shrugs. “I’m ready to take over,” he replies, as serious as ever.

Eagrie lights a cigarette and earns himself a scornful glare from Tyton. “But you aren’t off-shift yet,” he reprimands Eagrie.

Eagrie takes a long draw. I turn away. “And why didn’t you wait for my aunt Moira to come with you?” he asks Tyton. Moira Eagrie, his young aunt, is the only other member of his house who came here to support us and a seer assigned to Tyton. “Are you showing off how dutiful you are?” Eagrie adds snidely.

“Well, maybe the Lakelanders intend to exploit the shift change?” replies Tyton.

I swallow and take Tyton’s arm to stop him from worsening the quarrel. I’m about to chastise Eagrie as well when he says, “I’m still paying attention, thank you very much. As I’m supposed to. And with two electricons here now?” He shrugs. “Even assuming the enemy found out about our schedule, it’s unlikely that a plane will escape both of you.” He turns for a second to smirk at me.

Tyton scoffs and concentrates on the sky as well. He’s incredibly tense and focused. I’ve only known him as a no-nonsense person but since Ella died, his demeanour changed from aloof and endearingly annoying to deadly serious.

Moira Eagrie arrives 15 minutes later, running and still fighting her red hair, the gunners in their team in tow. She shares a brief hug with her nephew before I call the shift change finished and allow my unit to leave for our beds. I hesitate to go as well, though. I glance to Tyton. “Till later,” I say to him, offering him a slight smile. He nods, a corner of his mouth twitches.

“Stay alive, Purple,” he says.

I pass the tent of Kilorn and Rafe along my way to the mess. I intend to wake them but they’re already up, sharing a good morning kiss on the green.

“Be careful,” I call to them, “I’m not so sure that General Akkadi approves of couples in a unit.”

Rafe laughs and Kilorn shakes his head, blushing pink. “Mare, don’t you know?” he asks. “Battle couples are the most effective.”

“Hmm,” I groan, then smile again. They’re scheduled to work the “electricon shift” in the evening into the next night, as I’m allowed a little break after 12 hours on the outpost. I’m accordingly tired but I cherish the chances to eat breakfast together with my friends. I could fall asleep over my bread, while still listening to Rafe and Kilorn’s banter.

The mess was rather empty when we came in, as many soldiers were already off to their assignments. Yet, in the last minutes, the hall’s been starting to fill again, in a trickling manner. A commotion gathers around the small screen under the ceiling, so far emitting only white noise. I look at the screen, expecting some more or less interesting news, as usual. But as the picture clears, Tiberias becomes visible.

I stiffen. “Citizens of Archeon and the whole of Norta,” I hear him croak from the speakers. “I, Tiberias Calore, am here to announce my abdication and further refrain … “

I stop listening. I’ve become good at it. Actually, as the conversations in the mess become more excited, it’d demand too much of my attention to understand his words. He said the most important thing, as he promised. Now I can focus on his surroundings, avoid the part of the screen he occupies. I find Farley standing right behind him. She seems smug, unusually amused.

“Today, May 15th 322…” Tiberias continues, and I flinch at the date. When you work in alternating shifts, including the nights, it becomes difficult to keep track of the concepts of yesterday, today, and tomorrow. I’ve forgotten which date it is now, and I’m hit with a slight shock.

Is this why Farley looks so satisfied? May 15th is Clara’s birthday and now, it’s becoming a historical date. Did she even orchestrate this timing? No, I guess she would’ve rather spend the day –

Or she did it for me, replacing what Tiberias and I did one year ago with an entirely new and more important event.

I take one last bite of my bread before I get up. Kilorn looks at me with worry. I shake my head. “I’m too tired for this,” I say, and search my way out and to my own tent.

My tent is empty, as most times. The woman I’m sharing it with, Nadine Scobel, usually has other shifts and duties, so our sleeping times overlap seldom. I fall onto my sleeping bag, only kicking my boots off and loosening my belt. I’m terribly exhausted, yet I try my best to think of other things than Tiberias and the resent he still causes me. And the memory of how different it was one year ago. I don’t want to spend my thoughts on him. But he infiltrates them again and again until I fall asleep.

Much too early, I’m woken by sirens. I’ve hardly readjusted my pants when Nadine opens the tent flap and shouts, “Code R, Mare! Grab a bag and then run!” Wet black hair clings to her brown skin, more wet streaks show on her shirt. I get up to follow her, glad I haven’t fully undressed before. “R” means immediate flight and despite my lack of sleep, I run after Nadine. I’m grateful for the bloody running training I’ve done for a year, so my stamina chases off the fatigue along with the surges of adrenaline. As I follow the other soldiers coming together to be led to a certain direction, I look over my shoulder in an attempt to figure out the cause of the evacuation. I don’t really expect to see anything, trusting our scouts to warn us in time, but my instinct demands it. Indeed, the first thing I notice aren’t bombs in the sky, nor a marching army. I hear a low sound, getting louder and louder until it – literally – floods the camp: The waters, only puddles and creeks the days before, are rising and taking what was our camp in a torrential wave. It breaks only a few dozen meters behind me and already, Lakelander nymphs are surfing on the following waves, chasing us.

“Bloody fucking shit,” I curse under my breath and search for familiar faces. Kilorn, next to Rafe with his green braids, is relievingly easy to find. So are the other members of my team. I look further around as good as I can and notice the slope of our outpost. “Tyton!” I hiss, calculating the slope must now be behind the enemy lines.

Once more I’m glad that at least my brothers are safe from this battlefield. I stop a nymph coming for me with web lightning, then send up three quick flashes in the pattern we chose as a signal. Rafe answers, and closer than I feared, I see Tyton’s white lightning as well.

Oh, good.

Still fighting off the Lakelander Silvers behind us, we’re guided to an off-route where our own nymphs work in concentration. They draw the water away from us and the Lakelanders to create a temporary river that’s soon frozen over by our Newblood and Gliacon shivers.

“Hardly the right shoes for this,” Nadine pants. Inevitably, our escape slows on the ice but the soldiers staying back to fight the enemy protect our backs. “What about them?” I murmur and ponder on turning around, too. Nadine shakes her head, yet I’m already throwing lightning in the opponents’ direction.

I see four go down but suddenly, the ground beneath my feet becomes even more slippery. A Lakelander nymph grins just five meters behind me. The water she bends over our ice road melts the “ground” and while try to outrun the melting, my foot steps into nothing and I fall down.

The puddle I’m in pulls at me and I slide further away, even as Nadine calls. “Run!” I scream, turning slightly to release another lightning. Whether it hits, I can’t see, the water holds me too tight for that. Soon, I can feel it lifting me in the air.

Shit, shit, shit –

If I get closer, I can target the nymph with electricity although she has to know that and thus holds me away from her. But I won’t go down like this, without resistance. I let my whole body pulse and buzz with electricity, sparks fly around. Who comes will get electrocuted, even if it remains a helpless resistance so far.

Consequently, the nymph and her arriving comrades don’t give up either, and what use has lightning if you’re drowning three meters above the ground? My kicking and paddling don’t inhibit my foes and yet, I lurch suddenly as a bright light crosses my sight.

The water falls off me and so do I. I crash and cough and see the nymphs who captured me dead on the sodden earth. Someone rushes to me, and I scramble up, despite my hard landing. Behind me are more Lakelanders who would love to get at me. But in front of me is Tyton, grabbing my hand and pulling me forward. “Come!” he shouts, and another bright flash surges from his hand.

“Was that brain lightning?” I wonder as he heaves me back onto the ice road, with Nadine’s help. He winces and nods. “Told you I needed someone to try on.”

And while we run again in the direction of wished-for safety, Premier Davidson finally arrives at the rearguard to wield off our attackers with his shield.

In the end, we electricons and other Newbloods and called again to fight off the Lakelanders to secure our retreat as good as possible. After only two hours of sleep and five hours of running and fighting, I can hardly stand when Arezzo the teleporter finally picks me up to bring me to safety. The battle isn’t over yet, only those at the front are switched, the injured taken away – while leaving the dead.

Once I can allow myself to lie down in the crowded, makeshift and hopefully secure camp on a meadow, I sleep for 16 hours.

When I wake, the camp is eerily quiet and filled with queasiness and whispered rumours. Akkadi and Davidson are back to rouse us, lightening spirits and sending us back to marching.

“General Akkadi had a contingency plan for something like this,” Nadine remarks. “But I guess she didn’t consider the queen of the Lakelands herself setting up this snare.”

“The Lakelander queen?” I ask. The queen who’s said to stay in her capital has something of a mythical being.

Nadine nods. “As if the she wasn’t content with the way the war progresses. Only she’s skilled enough to have done this, gather the waters around our camp so we wouldn’t notice for days, then release it in one torrent.”

“Well shit,” Kilorn says, kicking a stone. “But she failed, right?”

“The retreat was a success;” I say. “I think, she might not try this again, after this result.” Although both parties seem to have suffered equal losses.

“Hmm. Yet General Akkadi had only this one escape route,” Nadine objects.

In the evening, we arrive at a village. It’s mostly empty of people, likely Akkadi sent forces ahead to claim it for us. It makes me uneasy, but what can I say – war has its ugly side. Still, a few inhabitants remain, watching us with resent, suspicion and feigned submissiveness. Most of them avoid us, but of course, both parties have to interact in some ways, as awkward as it is.

At night, I’m back to watch out with Eagrie once more. He’s freer  with his cigarettes tonight, considering aerial assault unlikely.

“I still expect you to do your best, Eagrie,” I remind him.

He takes a long draw, careful to exhale the fumes away from me. “I’ve been here before,” he says, “in this village. It has been a border town for the whole time, being taken and re-taken again and again.” He inhales again. “Some villagers would run, but the rest has been staying, no matter what happens. They’re … used to it and defending their home in their own ways.”

“Damn,” I reply. That doesn’t make me feel better. Nor should it. What does home even mean to me? I haven’t seen the stilts in ages, and I don’t really miss it, not in the way I miss my family or those I’ve lost. In the end, I assume, if it wasn’t for the war and bloodshed, I’d like the journeys I’ve done.

I clear my throat. “Eagrie? Don’t dissemble and watch keep.”

He scoffs, and both of us turn our eyes to the night sky.

The next morning, we walk into the village tavern for an uncomfortable breakfast. The glances of the locals continue to feel sinister but Davison decided to make use of the tavern kitchen to cook and distribute our food reserves. At least we have those, and don’t have to rely on foraging so far. Yet I want to take my meal and leave the building as soon as possible.

But Eagrie stops at the threshold and stares while I can’t get past him. “Gracious queen, how come you’re here…!” he utters and walks to another man in the room. He wears a Scarlet Guard captain uniform and seems vaguely familiar. A hooded person sits next to him and looks down.

Eagrie hugs the captain enthusiastically. I’m not surprised, he rejoiced on an equal scale when he met his cousin Lacey Ventos again after a long separation.

I shake my head and am about to say goodbye when the hooded person turns their – her – head. It’s another familiar profile and as I walk the village streets to find Kilorn, my mind works on making a connection. Only when I can already see him in the distance, I realize and gasp, stunned by the presence of the missing princess, the ex-queen Iris Cygnet, inside a secret Scarlet Guard camp.

@clarafarleybarrow @mareshmallow @redqueenfandom @inopinion @lilyharvord @runexandra @wrenskonos @hannaharies @samanthaslytherin @marecalrandomstuff @kihlorn @redqueenforever @mareenattitanos @selenbean-beany

[hxmmatron]

Hireath -part 5 (Epilogue/Valentine special):

Daddy!CEO!Luke

A/N: Here it is :’) the last last part. *sigh* this took a while, it was actually supposed to be for last year’s Valentine but life just had other plans :’) um, I guess this is a thank you to anyone who has ever read the story, anyone who has ever liked it or reblogged or left a comment. I can’t ever begin to express how thankful I am for that. I am so so grateful for the time I spent here,and the community that surrounded my blog. Thank you for all the love, and for all those lovely people who still cared about the story and asked about it. 

Here it is. 

Thank you. 

Word count: 3.2k

Plot: A divorce is not so easy to go through when your lingering feels and son keep getting in the way.

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4

The tentative rays of sunlight peeked through the colossal windows taking up the whole walls, falling smoothly against the desks and chairs lettering the office in an organized puzzle. The atmosphere was still quiet, unbelievably quiet in comparison to the usual commotion shaking up the office, in the form of footsteps shuffling around, phones ringing periodically and voices merging into an undeciphered chaos.

As your heels clicked against the flooring early in the morning, you were only met with soft good morning’s, voices still partly heavied down with sleep and with the fresh, mouthwatering smell of coffee seeking to kickstart the day with a much needed dose of caffeine.

With the office still drowning in the quietness and slowness of a sleepy morning, it was hardly surprising to see that the red circle marking today’s date on the calendar remained ignored. Even more so, you would easily expect it to remain that way an hour later, when the office comes back to life, regaining its full, hectic atmosphere and falling into its usual fast pace.

But the little heart marking your own February calendar has been present on your mind for the past week, making your footsteps livelier and much more energetic than the whole office combined.

Your original destination changed halfway through the long corridor leading towards the grand office, the unmistakable gold plate stapled to its door. It was the slightly ajar door that lured you in, making you peek your head inside, fingers following (right on tow) to knock on the wooden surface.

“Good morning!” Your voice chirps happily through the office, pushing the door open and making your way inside.

Ashton’s head shoots up from his morning paper, a smile stretching his lips to greet you.

“___!”

His hands work on folding the newspaper in his hands, attention focused on you -more precisely,on the gleeful tone in your voice. “I wonder what’s gotten you so cheerful this early in the morning.”

There's a teasing glint in his eyes, but you're hardly bothered. Instead, you move closer to sit down, smile still bright.

“I can list a thing or two.”

Ashton seems to let this slide, despite the way his eyes narrow and a chuckle leaves his mouth. The conversation falls into a pleasant talk about how his family’s doing, before you're leaning against your elbow, on the wooden desk and ask;

“So, you’re still up for babysitting Jace tonight. Right?”

Ashton’s face suddenly breaks into a huge grin, and it's almost like a lightbulb went off inside his head.

“Aaah, I get it now.” He manages between breathy laughs, adding with a wink, “A little valentine date, with Mr. CEO?”

Your only reply is a chuckle, because you can’t really deny that he is actually right. But even that is enough to get him smiling wider, highly amused by this conversation.

“But aren't you guys past the dating stage?” He comments, lifting his hand up and pointing out his ring finger, “Like, way past it?”

That draws a scoff from you, almost in defense. Because you know that, technically, the papers had never been signed. You were still

But Ashton was very right. Your relationship did not fall under the category of your typical married couple, and the reason behind that was more than just you living separately. It was the late night dates, driving you home and kissing you at the door. It was the random movie dates, and daily texts. It was the slow restart, the tentative steps and the fear of diving in too soon.

It was all the little things you had lost the habit of doing, along the way.

It was, as Ashton pointed out, everything that made it seem as if you were a new couple still basking in their honeymoon phase, rather than a husband and wife with a long line of history.

Yet, despite the accuracy of Ashton’s words, you only  lift a hand up to shoo him away, eyes rolling; “we are not dating.”

“Oh really?” He taunts, seeming to take that as a challenge, leaning over his desk on his elbows. “Cheesy dates on the weekends, flirting shamelessly on the phone -during work hours, mind you. And let’s not forget,” He stops with a smirk you know well enough to dread whatever’s coming next, “Hot, steamy, not-so-secretive sex in his off-”

You most certainly don't allow him to finish his words, interrupting him with a loud shout of his name and threatening to throw the closest thing at hand -the framed picture on his desk, hardly effective as a weapon- at his face.

“Ashton! What are you- where did you even get that from?” the flustered face you make, along with the way you trip over your words only manage to rile Ashton up further. And not even the hard stare you shoot him (or at least try to, unable to fight back a smile) makes his incessant laughter come to an end, as he seems to find immense pleasure in your reaction.

Ashton only gives you a knowing smile, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against his chair. “Like I said, not so secretive.”

“Ash!” You try to sound scalding, but a chuckle still breaks your frown, Ashton joining you as well. “Would you not?”

“Anyway,” You are quick to add, getting up from your seat and fixing your skirt, “I have to get going. I’ll wait for you tonight!”

Protests from Ashton follow you even as you close the door, about how you’re ignoring your friend to go flirt, and you can barely hold back a laugh at his words.

~

The light knocking on the door makes Luke lift his head up from his papers scattered over his desk, and a smile quickly takes over his face when your face comes into view.

“Good morning~” You greet, stepping inside and closing the door behind you. Getting up from his desk, Luke meets you halfway, arms wrapping around you naturally and bringing you into a hug.

Pulling away just slightly, Luke’s lips meet yours with a kiss.

“Happy valentine’s day, baby.” The words are whispered against your lips, Luke’s hand moving to hold your face, before leaning in for another kiss, deeper this time. And it’s only when he’s had enough that he pulls away, his hand holding yours, leading you back towards his desk. Luke sits down on his chair, facing you as you settle on top of his desk.

“Did you sleep well?” You ask, lifting your hand and running it through his hair, just the way you know he loves it.

“Yeah”, Luke nods, eyes momentarily closed, enjoying your touches. “I had to stay up late, but that’s ok . Did you n Jace have a good night?”

Before you manage to reply, the ringing on his phone breaks through the silence, getting him distracted momentarily by it. But Luke only spares a single look at the caller ID, before he silences it. Turning back to you with a smile, his hand moves to rest on top of your thigh.  

“Do you want some coffee? Some breakfast?”

“No, no need.” You answer, “I need to get to work in a bit.”

Your reply draws an involuntary frown from Luke. One he doesn’t notice, but you do, making you lean in for a kiss. You keep it short, leaning away too quickly for his liking.

“Baby, I think you need new blinds for your office.” You whisper, making Luke’s eyes open.

“Why? What’s wrong with these ones?” He asks, genuinely confused.

His eyes move away from you, focusing on the mentioned blinds behind you. But your hands cup his face, redirecting his attention back on you, and explain; “Apparently, they let out our steamy, hot sex out to the open.”

Luke’s startled for a moment, before he breaks into a laugh. Getting up from his chair, he leans over, settling his arms on each side of where you sat.

“Baby, I think it’s more about your state when you walk out.” Luke whispers, lips touching yours with every spoken word, before he gives in and goes for a deep kiss. Eyes closing, your arms move from his face, to wrap around his neck and pull him closer,legs opening up just a little bit more to bring his body closer. It’s almost as if time freezes, and everything else escapes your mind, until Luke pulls away.

“Say,” another kiss, “did you talk to Ash about babysitting tonight?”

“Yeah” you nod, “he’s talking Jace over to yours, so we-” you pause, a flirty smile on your face and your hands moving back to Luke’s face, -”can can go back to mine and have it to ourselves. All night.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

~

Leaving Luke’s office, that day, was something you couldn’t get out of your memory. The moment you had stepped a foot outside, all eyes fell on you. It had taken a solid minute of silence for everyone to look away and carry on with their work, trying to act subtle. But you knew that everyone had heard what was supposed to happen in the privacy of Luke’s office. Sympathetic smiles followed you as you exited, along with concerned eyes and hopeful hearts.

It was a while before Luke’s assistant went into his office, too worried to be barging in too soon. The whole office walking on eggshells, holding their breath and sharing hushed murmurs about what had went on.

On Jace’s birthday, Luke had showed up, but almost an hour late. You had opened your door to find him breathless, cheeks flushed and words of apology rushing out, explaining how the traffic had been slower than he expected.

Truly, Luke had expected you to shut the door at his face. Because you had given him only one task and he had failed it already.

But you smiled at his state, and lead him inside.

A loud evening was promised, of birthday songs and happy wishes, of little kids giggling and running around while adults lounged around and exchanged their news. But when night came and everyone had left, your little birthday boy soundly sleeping in his room, Luke stayed back, offering to help you out with the cleaning.

Luke had never felt as hesitant as he did that night. He only knew to keep enough of a safe distant, waiting for you to determine the next move, to choose where to go. But, as he let his eyes linger on you, standing oh so close to him, drying the dishes he finished washing; it had filled him up with an overflowing feeling of homeyness, making him want act upon it. He had wanted nothing more than to have his hands rest on your waist, and lean in to kiss your lips until it was all marked into his memory.

But he did not kiss you that night.

Or the next time he saw you, when you had invited him for lunch. It was at a restaurant close to his office, and you had picked up Jace from his school as well.

Or the time after that, when you had all met up at Calum’s house for a little gathering.

He was walking on thin ice, Luke knew that. And he would be damned if let himself ruin things again. But he was determined to work hard to prove himself, to be there for whatever his family needed. Until then, he would let you lead, at your own pace, and hope that you wouldn’t want to push him away.

Luke had only gotten a taste of your lips the night he stayed over for a movie night, helping put Jace to bed.

It had felt like the first drop of water he had in a year of drought, making his whole body come back to life. You had pulled away far too soon for his liking, but then you asked him for a coffee date at his office, and Luke’s heart felt like bursting at your words, oh-so sweet to him. 

~

As expected, the tables were crowded with couple holding hands and making oaths for forever, the waiters rushing back n forth, from table to other. Rose petals decorated each and every table, along with red candles and heart shaped candies.

But your table was in the far back, private enough to feel like it was just you, and just him.

The lace dress you wore was a gift from Luke, chosen with care and left on top of your bed for you to find, along with more packages that you didn’t get the time to go through just yet. It suited you to a wonder, and Luke couldn’t have felt any more blessed, his hands finding it harder to stay away from you for too long.

“It’s been a while since we last celebrated Valentine’s this way.” The comment leaves your mouth without much thought, smiling in contentment. But then your eyes lift up from the menu you were reading, and the look on Luke’s face instantly makes you regret it.

It’s a look you see on his face more often than you wished. It was a look that betrayed his thoughts whenever he was falling into the pit of remorse and regret.

Last Valentine, you couldn’t even remember the day clearly. You’re sure that it was nothing but a delivered bouquet of roses and chocolates that had a card too bland to be personally sent by Luke. You knew that it was a last minute order after his assistant -most likely- reminded him of which day it was. You’re not sure if the year before that was that special either.

It had indeed been long since you both celebrated the day this way. You knew that. And he knew that.

“Hey,” You whisper, frowning. Your hand reaching out to hold his, giving him a gentle squeeze. But Luke only shakes his head, replacing the look on his face with a smile instead.

He knew that he wouldn’t find a way out of the maze of regret any time soon. He knew that his mind would always go back to little details and remind him of every wrong decision he wasn’t aware of at the time.

But for tonight, Luke wants it to be special. He wants it to overpower the memories of times he didn’t take the time to celebrate special days with you.

For tonight, he just wants it to be just you.

~

The lights in the living room are kept to a low dim, an old record softly playing in the background.

Once dinner was over, exquisite dishes savored and sweet desserts shared, it was time for you both to go back home and enjoy a little more privacy. The ride back was just you two and your wandering hands, the driver disposed for the night.

Your drinks remained on the table, long forgotten as you got drunk on each other’s lips instead.

“I don’t like this house very much” Luke breaks slightly away from your lips, his mouth moving to pepper light kisses on your jaw.

“What?” You ask after a little too long, his lips distracting you from his words, “why?” You draw out, pulling away a bit more and looking around your apartment. “I think it’s fairly nice.”

Luke hums, resting his arm on the back of the couch, around your shoulders.“It is nice. But it's not home.”

A minute of silence follows his words, Luke’s eyes simply gazing into yours and studying your reaction. The beats of his heart drum against his ear, so loudly that it drowns out the music still playing from the corner of the room.

Fear slowly makes its way into his heart, sending strings around it and caging it in, making it throb painfully in his chest. It’s the same fear that keeps creeping up on him; the fear of taking a wrong step, taking it too fast and potentially breaking down everything you have been rebuilding. The fear that he would once again risk losing you.

But then you look into his eyes, with that special way of yours, and the words just tumble out of his mouth.

“Come back home.”

Your heart flutters again at his words, stronger this time. Not only because it’s the first time he bring this up, but it’s in the way he spoke his words. Hesitant and unsure. Just like the very first time.

“I- I don’t know. Are you sure?” You question, mind feeling unprepared.

The look Luke shoots you is enough to tell you that he is more than sure. And the small smile on your lips knocks a little more confidence into him.

“Come on, think of all the positives.”

You squint your eyes at his words, smile getting wider and your hand moving towards the side of his neck, allowing your fingers to run through his hair.

Luke’s smile grows at your words, lifting his hand to rest on your forearm. His thumb moves in little circles against your skin, his head turning slightly to meet the patch of skin and land a soft kiss, before he leans away. “Hm..” he pretends to think, “We get to have breakfast in bed?”

“I don’t think you really thought this one through,” You tease, “Mr. I-wake-up-in-the-ass-crack-of-dawn.”

Luke chuckles at that, shaking his head, “On Sundays then, how about that?”

An attempt to tame your smile goes down the drain, so you simply let it be.

“Carry on..”

“No more driving late at night, or having to pack clothes.” Luke continues, “We’re always over at each other’s anyways.”

You lift your eyebrows, slightly nodding your head, a teasing smile still playing on your lips. Luke shakes his head with a laugh, just as amused by your behavior. Deciding to play along, his head dives in, lips finding the skin of your neck and leaving featherlight kisses.

“You get to wake up to this lovely face every morning.” He hums against your skin, kisses punctuating his words. “Slow, early morning sex before-”

A loud giggle falls past your lips, your hands holding Luke’s face and pulling him away. But he still goes for a kiss on your lips, before leaning back into the couch.

“___, …”

The tone of his voice drops all its playfulness, getting serious. With honest eyes never once leaving yours, he speaks;  “I mean it, I want you to come back home. I miss you being home. It’s not the same anymore. You don't have to do it anytime soon, I’ll wait. But I just need you to think about it.”

His words knock the breath out of our lungs, leaving you struck for a moment too long, before warmth overtakes your heart. You can feel tears starting to pool in your eyes, and your hands reach out to pull him in for a deep kiss.

A little shaky, teeth clashing and breaths mixing together. But it’s nothing short of perfect.

“Ask me again” You mumble against his lips, hands still holding his face.

“Please come back home.”

Your answer comes in the form of another kiss.

~

(Bonus: Luke proposes again, 6 months later.)

[professorflowriter]

To have loved, and lost, Ch4

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11402901/chapters/26705922

Severus had made it back into the kitchen without any more mishaps, although he was now struggling not to throw up everything he’d drunk recently, having mistakenly taken a sip from a bottle of (thankfully) diluted bubotuber pus. It had been in a plain dark bottle, and he’d been so elated at having found a bottle of spirits that he’d missed he’d not even checked what it was. He couldn’t even blame her for leaving it where it might be mistaken for something drinkable. She’d asked him so many times not to leave his ingredients lying around in the kitchen, as he sometimes did when he’d just bought or collected them.

When he’d realised how much it had annoyed her he’d started doing it on purpose, at least until he’d come up from his lab to see why his dinner was late, and had found half-cooked and abandoned pans on the stove and no sign of her. It wasn’t until he spotted his freshly picked Deadlyius mushrooms that he’d left on the counter, strewn across the chopping board that he realised what she’d done. They were so similar looking to normal mushrooms it was no surprise that she’d picked them up without thinking, instead of the ones that she’d bought from the supermarket.

He’d removed them without a word to her about it, and when she’d finally reappeared and to finish cooking and serve dinner, she’d said nothing either. He’d noted how she’d tried to keep her left hand as hidden as possible as they’d eaten, but he’d spotted the redness covering her fingers and felt a slight pang of guilt about what he knew was sure to have been a nasty and painful reaction. From then on he’d done his best not to leave potions ingredients out, although he’d still forgotten on occasion. Like this time… he thought, cursing his own stupidity as he fought not to retch. He grabbed the counter to steady himself until the need to do so had passed.

Gods, his mouth tasted like a flobberworm’s arse! He needed a drink to wash away the taste of the pus. Ignoring the tap, he shakily made his way to where he’d left his bottle. He was faintly disgusted with himself for feeling proud of the fact he’d managed to pick it up and put it to his lips on the first go. The incident with the rogue bottle had clearly sobered him up slightly. He needed more, quickly, as he wasn’t yet ready to face the world without a high alcohol to blood ratio.

2 Years, 5 months earlier.

By the time the news of the marriage law had finally hit the papers Severus had been getting fed up with courting and wanted nothing more than to just get on and marry the girl. He wasn’t made out for all the niceties that came with actually wooing a woman, rather than just bedding her. All the flirting and teasing he been doing with her was just as frustrating for him as it was for her. He’d never wanked so hard and so often in his life, and she was clearly in two minds about his decision not to touch her until they were married. She wanted him, desperately, but was flattered by his gentlemanlike behaviour.

He’d been determined to wait for the law to come into force, however, as it would not only stop her from divorcing him as soon as she realised what an arse he really was, but would also guarantee him sex twice a week, even if they were barely on speaking terms, until three children had been produced. Not that there would be any. Severus had already taken care of that with an adapted dark spell that wouldn’t be traceable using the current techniques. And if, after some time, the Ministry started to question why there were no children, then he already had in mind an untraceable potion that he would be able to slip her to abort a child, making it look like a miscarriage. The Ministry was unlikely to force them to divorce if they couldn’t find any reason in either of them to stop a child being carried to full term. Severus was determined to reap all the benefits of the law, and avoid all the negatives.

Lucius had actually given him a couple of days’ warning before the law was published, and upon reflection he’d decided not to say anything to her until she came to him about it. He wanted to give the impression that he was unconcerned, that it didn’t affect him or his plans, and that it wasn’t worth a moment of his attention. But when he’d not heard from her by the next morning he’d started to grow worried. Had she guessed his scheme and decided to run out on his without a word or even an owl? By early evening of the second day he had worked himself up into a righteous fury, sure that she’d scarpered, the unfaithful cow.

When he’d turned up a few hours later at her front door he’d struggled to keep his composure. He’d wanted to be angry with her for not coming to him, but he couldn’t afford to act out the way he felt. He’d forced the emotion from his face as he banged on the door, but as it was flung open he’d not been able to prevent some of it showing. Luckily she’d misinterpreted it as worry, and when he’d risked a quick incursion into her surface thoughts he’d seen how relieved she was to see him. In the end it had turned out that she’d been worried that he would feel pressured into marrying her, and had tried to give him a bit of space.

Hermione had been fretting herself into a state since she’d seen the paper, thinking that he’d run from her. She’d recalled an old conversation between the two of them, a year or so previous, when he’d expressed an aversion to having children, and she’d assumed that he would leave the country rather than be forced to have at least three. Severus had had to do a lot of reassuring before she calmed down and began to believe him when he said he was more than prepared to adhere to the law and marry her as soon as they could arrange the wedding.

He’d even gone to the trouble of apparating back home quickly while she went to the bathroom to clear up her blotchy face, to grab the old paste diamond ring he’d found in his mother’s jewellery box. He had no idea whose it had been, but it beat spending the money on a new one, and the girl was sentimental enough that she’d loved the story he’d told her of how it had been passed down in his family for a couple of generations. He’d even gone down on one knee. She’d been ridiculously happy, of course, and he’d gone home later feeling awfully smug with himself. She’d not suspected a thing.

So the task of planning a wedding had started. Severus couldn’t really have cared less about dresses and decorations, as long as Hermione was in his bed at the end of it. His future bride wanted some time to prepare her dream celebration, even though he’d just wanted to get married as soon as possible. He would have been happy to have gone to the Ministry immediately; He’d already waited long enough. Lucius had actually managed to get the law pushed back a few weeks to give Narcissa time to arrange the lavish affair she’d had her heart set on ever since Draco had been born, and Severus wasn’t impressed that his friends’ selfishness had delayed his own ‘happy’ day by so long.

Severus had attended Draco’s wedding, although he’d absolutely hated it, thinking the whole thing ridiculously opulent and over the top – what self-respecting man would agree to such a nauseatingly pink and glittery themed wedding? What had Narcissa been thinking? Everyone else had thought the whole thing was stunning, but Severus had barely been able to touch anything in the worry that something might rub off on him. He’d almost gagged when he’d realised that both Lucius and Draco had pink incorporated into their dress robes. The former even had a ribbon in the same shade to tie back his hair. Even worse, they both seemed to rather like what they were wearing. It had only reinforced his long-held beliefs about the two of them. Lucius had always put too much thought into what he was wearing, and Draco had inherited his father’s love of his own reflection.

The whole affair had set him to worrying about his own upcoming nuptials. Merlin help him, he’d hoped Hermione wasn’t going to want anything like that. A nice simple ceremony was all he wanted, some quick vows, with the minimum amount of witnesses required, and the only celebration after being at home, in his bedroom. Women though, he understood, usually wanted far more, but he hoped that Hermione being the practical girl she was, would be easily persuaded otherwise.

Hermione had actually been invited to Draco’s wedding, but despite having forgiven the Malfoys, her memories of the Manor were still too vivid to allow her entry, even for such a celebration. So he’d taken the chance the next day when he saw her, to tell her about the grotesque display he’d been forced to attend, hoping to get some idea of what she was wanting, and to discourage any thoughts of a big wedding by declaring his abhorrence of such an idea.

Luckily Hermione had seemed to agree with him that the wedding sounded ghastly. She was generally a sensible girl, not prone to dreams of romantic nonsense or much of the juvenile silliness that most of her sex seemed to exhibit. For all her pureblood ‘sophistication’, Narcissa was actually no better than the empty-headed girls – Miss Brown came to mind, - that he’d taught or the past twenty years. It was just one way in which his Hermione showed herself to be far superior, and part of a growing list of reasons why he was glad he had managed to snare her.

Of course in the end, he’d not been able to persuade Hermione against having a small party, just a quiet dinner with the friends who had been invited to the ceremony. He’d been against even that, but had eventually agreed when she’d pointed out that they didn’t want to look like they were getting married only for the sake of the law. There had already been a large number of ‘quickie’ weddings, nothing more than a rushed and impersonal ceremony, as everyone hurried to snag the best partner they could find. The Weasley boy and Miss Brown had married a few weeks previous, as the latter was already pregnant, while Potter and Miss Weasley’s ceremony would be a few weeks after Severus’ own. Both of them had taken a while to come to terms with Hermione’s intention to marry him, although she had only let them stew for a month before harassing them into submission.

He’d seen Hermione’s point though, so he had to put up with the indignity of his bride being walked in by Potter, in front of a rather larger than he would have wished group of friends, most of whom were Hermione’s. The small contingent of Hogwarts’ teachers that had turned up had sat on his side of the hall, although he was sure they were really there for Hermione’s sake, rather than his. There had been no family on either side. His were all gone, or too distantly related for him to bother with, while hers were currently still sulking in Australia.

All of this meant that right now he was currently getting to the end of his tether with all the merriment around him. The only thing keeping him from going insane was the sight of his bride’s breasts, unbound and loose under her traditional wedding robe. He’d always suspected himself to be a masochist, but the way he’d been teasing himself with the thoughts of her, knicker-less and naked beneath the loosely fitting material was definitely a form of self-flagellation. It was taking all his self-restraint not to grab her and apparate directly to his room, especially when she reached across the table and a breast brushed against his arm.

He’d already wanked twice today, and still he felt as if he was ready to burst at the slightest touch from her. It was a couple of years since he’d admitted his attraction to her to himself, over 5 months since he had decided to have her – 5 months without the company of another woman. At least the ridiculous antics of his wife’s friends were enough of a distraction that he didn’t embarrass himself with a display of his bodily functions.

He watched with a sneer as several of the recently engorged Weasely clan started laughing at something Minerva had been quietly whispering to those around her. Something vulgar, he was sure, and no doubt aimed at himself, considering the way some of the group were stealing glances at him. The old hag may have appeared to be a dried up old prude to her students, but there was no one to match her for crudeness when she’d had a few to drink.

“Hurry up and leave, will you?” Lucius moaned in his ear. “It would be bad manners for the guests to depart so early with the bride and groom still here. You’ll force us to be rude if you don’t go soon.

Severus turned his head just far enough to make out all four of the Malfoy’s watching the mass of rowdy Gryffindors across the room with barely concealed disgust. “I agree, it’s time to leave. I can’t stand much more of this either,” he confided. “I only wanted a quick ceremony and to return straight back to Spinner’s End. But as you know just as well as I do, that it’s the appearance of it is that matters.”

Lucius muttered something incomprehensible as he turned back to Narcissa, and Severus looked back out over his guests. Most of them were well into their cups, and caught up in the spirit of the celebration. His gaze was drawn to the two that stood out; the youngest Weasely boy and his vacuous wife. The boy seemed barely aware of the merriment around him, instead alternating between scowling into his cup, nodding his head absentmindedly to whatever his wife was whispering in his ear, and glaring across the tables at Hermione.

Miss Brown – Mrs Weasely, rounder than normal with another red-headed brat growing inside her, was clearly trying to distract her husband from his sulk. Judging by the barely restrained look of fury that she was sporting, she knew exactly what his problem was, as did Severus. Hermione had told him, early in their friendship, how long it had taken Ron to get past the fact that she wasn’t interested in him, despite the single kiss they’d shared during the Battle of Hogwarts. What she hadn’t said, but what he had known for ages, was that she wasn’t interested because she had feelings for him. Severus had ascertained through snippets of conversation over the following years what Hermione being too naïve to realise for herself; that the boy had never gotten over her. He was convinced Weasely had only started seeing Miss Brown in a failed attempt to make Hermione jealous.

Smirking at his obvious distaste for the celebration, - Potter had unfortunately adjusted to the idea of his best friend marrying the dreaded dungeon bat quicker than Severus would have liked, so Severus had to get his kicks somewhere; he waited until the redhead’s gaze fell on him. When their eyes met, Severus pushed gently into his mind, seeing straight away that his suspicions about the boy’s feelings for Hermione were correct. Smug in the knowledge that he had got the girl for once, Severus quickly projected a scene back into Weasley’s mind.

As his mind filled with the image of the girl he coveted, writhing and moaning Severus’ name as he fucked her furiously, Weasely’s face turned red and splotchy. He turned away, breaking Severus’ contact with his mind, and standing so quickly he nearly knocked his wife in the face, he left the room, looking as if he was going to be sick.

Severus resisted the inane urge to poke his tongue out at the back of the retreating figure, and instead contented himself with a smirk. He glanced to his right to check that his bride hadn’t caught any of the exchange, but found her speaking in low undertones to her maid of honour, Miss Weasely, beside her. The girl was openly grinning, while Hermione’s cheeks were painted in a faint blush. When the former spotted Severus looking, she gently nudged her friend. Hermione looked round and when she realised she was being watched the colour on her cheeks deepened. Interesting… he thought. What were you talking about...? He pressed lightly into her surface thoughts, to find that the two of them had been discussing her upcoming… deflowering. Ginny had been giving her some tips, based on what she and Harry… He pulled out with a shudder. He did not need to know that about Potter.

Hermione seemed to misinterpret his grimace, for she laid a comforting hand on his arm and leaned across with a smile. “Thank you for putting up with this for me, Severus. I know you don’t like parties. I think we’ve been here long enough if you want to go now.”

The redness in her cheeks was fading, and he found himself wanting to put it back again. Her embarrassment at her own innocence he found entrancing. He stood immediately, pulling her to her feet, and slipped his arm around her to hold her tight against him.

“I’ve been wanting to be alone with you all day,” he murmured into her ear, taking care to use his voice to full effect, wanting to see her response. She blushed prettily again, the red intensifying as others began to notice and call out to them. Thank Merlin it was time to leave; the self-restraint that he had been fostering for years where his new wife was concerned was about to snap.

“If you will excuse us… I believe it is time for my wife and I to be leaving.” He felt a thrill as she tucked her face into his chest in embarrassment. He could feel her breasts pressed up against him, and the thought that he would be granted free access to them - and more - in a matter of minutes made his heart beat faster in anticipation. He tightened his arm around her waist, and to the gentle cheers and good wishes of the other guests, he apparated them straight back to his house, and to his bedroom.

He gave her no chance to get her bearings, instead, his lips quickly descended on hers. He kissed her deeply, plundering her mouth until she was breathless and shaking in his arms. He pulled away for a moment to smirk down at her, and to locate the ties on the back of her neck.

As she felt his fingers undo the ribbon she finally seemed to come to her senses, her eyes suddenly becoming focused.

“Wait Severus. Not yet…” She tried to pull his fingers away but he barely noticed, instead deftly evading her and moving onto the first of the row of buttons below, even as he reached down to kiss her again. She lost herself for a moment again, before suddenly remembering her objections and trying to push him off.

He finally realised his advances weren’t being returned, and his blood turned cold for a moment. Had she changed her mind? It would be all too easy for her to leave him if the marriage hadn’t been consummated. She had a couple of months left to find another to marry. His chest clenched at the thought. She’s mine…

“What’s the matter?” He kept his hands on her shoulders, stroking the skin there gently. “Do you not want to…?”

“That’s not it.”

She blushed again, looking away, and he couldn’t help but follow the red downwards towards her chest, now that the neckline was sagging and low.

“It’s just, I… I bought something to put on… you know, something nice. And there should be a bottle chilling somewhere…”

He laughed in relief as her words reassured his that flight was the last thing on her mind. He pulled her flush against him once more and started kissing down her now exposed neck.  “I’m more concerned with getting this off,” he growled once he felt he relax a bit into his arms again.  

“But… I wanted…”

Hermione trailed off as his hand came up to gently cup a breast for the first time, his thumb brushing expertly across a sensitive nipple. She shuddered delightfully in his arms, sagging slightly with the onslaught of sensations and he took the opportunity to back her slowly towards the bed.

“What I want is to get you out of this dress,” he murmured into the sweet spot behind her ear. Gods she tasted so good, he was finding it hard not to pin he straight to the bed and devour her. “Any other clothing right now would be…superfluous.” He wasn’t interested in her setting up some romantic scene. He just wanted her now. He’d waited so long, and now… now she was his.

“Sever… oh!”

She almost whimpered as the back of her legs hit the bed, and he reached around with one hand to continue undoing her buttons, using the other to continue teasing her breast with light touches. He knew she was on the verge of forgetting her silly ideas when she began to push back unconsciously into his hand, begging for a firmer touch. Finally, the last fastening in the small of her back was open, and he ran his hand back up the silk-smooth skin that was now exposed to her waist, delighted to not have a bra to contend with. He kissed her more fervently as he used both hands to start slipping the straps of the dress down her arms.

“I’ve wanted you for so long. I need you now… wife,” Severus whispered against her lips as he carried her down gently to the bed.

[mbrainspaz]

Update to this stupid situation: I tried to shed 2 of the 10 unpaid overtime hours I stacked up in the past week yesterday by clocking out 2 hours early from my morning shift. We'd already finished the major chores and the barn was looking good. I okayed it with my coworker and she was cool with it. I was like, 'nice, I finally have a chance to work my horse for the first time in days,' so I get all tacked up and start riding--only to get an angry email from the boss asking why I'm not at work?! Apparently she called my coworker and wanted to put us on a random conference call. So I emailed back, very patiently explaining that if she was going to ignore my requests for overtime pay I was going to shed the hours as necessary. Anyway, tossed my horse in his stall and ran to take the stupid conference call. It took 3 minutes, and all she did was ask us not to talk to some lady who might come to the barn. Wow, so glad I wasted an hour on that. BUT WAIT, THERE'S MORE! She then has the audacity to email me and say, 'no, actually you need to follow the schedule precisely and if you wanted overtime pay because your coworker was out sick you should have said something. But I'll see if I can get some overtime approved for you.' BEEEESH. hmmmm. hnnnnnnnnnnn. So rage is building. Because I texted her asking for overtime pay two days ago and she just ignored me, and this is not the first time she's tried to gaslight me like this when I have written proof. ALSO, what the hell did you think was gonna happen while my coworker was out sick for 4 days, Sharon? That I'd just magically be able to do my work and the work of the 6ft tall guy who can lift whole trees in the same amount of time? Get the f*ck outta here. Anyway, I calmly and politely emailed her back explaining how much overtime pay I needed, and asked if I could pretty please take the next hour off to shed the time I needed to shed. And I didn't go back to work, but an hour later she emailed me back to say no. Whatever. Too late. That's the problem with her whole 'ask me before you change the schedule' spiel. She doesn't actually have time to manage the barn. I wrote her another email (very respectfully!!!) trying to explain the nuances of Barn Time-- mainly that it does not work like Office Time. There are certain chores that have to be done at certain times depending on many factors like weather and horse things. THEN she goes and sends an email to the whole team graciously allowing us to only clean half the horse paddocks every day to 'save time'. Spoilers: that would not save time. She emails me separately to say that 'if any deviation from the schedule is needed, you must ask me first so that I can make the decision to allow overtime or reprioritize tasks.' mmmkay. At this point some of the snark regrettably breaks free and I do point out to her that according to the Schedule I am not allowed to clean stalls for the rest of the day (stalls need to be cleaned), and that I can't turn the horses out at 6pm if it's still 120F, and I ask her what, pray tell, should I do about that? If I wait until 7pm, I end up working until 9. If I don't shave an extra hour off at lunch, that means I worked 9 hours. This has been happening almost every day.

She doesn't reply because it's 5:17PM.

So that went really well (/s). She hasn't said anything today either. Guess she got tired of dealing with me, but I'm sure she'll find a way to make me suffer for trying. I can see why the other workers just ignore her and sneak around. The kid is too naive and and the tall guy is majorly non-confrontational. But I'm not going to be okay living in a situation where I'm forced to sneak around and break the rules just to exist, just so that this corporate Sharon can swoop in at any moment and string me up over some bullshit. I do my job right, fast, and well, and I don't deserve this disrespect. Despite my current life as a lowly peasant, I'm the only barn employee who's worked management level in an office before. I can take her. If she doesn't just fire me out of spite, I can take her.

so technically it's like illegal for a company to ask you to work more than 40 hours a week and then refuse to pay overtime right? Because mine just keeps backing me in to corners where I have to do the extra work, and then denying me overtime pay. That's like, illegal, right? I know worker protections suck in america and doubly so for texas, but it seems like that should be illegal. Technically the office boss overlords are telling me not to do the extra work, but the work has to get done and all my coworkers keep getting sick so they know I have no choice but to pick up the slack or look like the bad guy. And if they fire me I'll be homeless again so I'm not keen on that. But like... also not keen on this whole whacky what's-starting-to-feel-like-indentured-servitude situation. I don't even need the extra money and I sure as hell don't need the extra hours of work. What I need is therapy and time to keep up with my art contracts. They keep yelling at me to stop working extra hours and I'm screaming back that I would sure like to not to but unfortunately horses gotta horse, and when one suddenly colics after I've just worked two 10+ hour days because my only two coworkers are out sick it's me who gets to stay after closing and check on it all night while still--not to put too fine a point on it--very much not being paid.