#hope everyone was able to enjoy or at the very least endure the holidays

[lupucs]

Happy (very late) new year! 🎉 Quick belated 2D-style render with Pen. The fireworks woke him from his much-needed 20 hour nap.

[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.”

[dracowars]

was gud :) i LOVED your last request, and i can’t believe it was your 1 one - you’re definitely talented!! but i was wondering if you could write smth where y/n has a bruise on her face, bc harry and her had a big fight over draco.. she then tells him (cause he her bf), and draco goes completely crazy, and fights w/ harry in the bathrooms (yk movie typa style) - y/n then thinks that it’s all her fault, after he’s completely bruised and hurt -maybe like a cute fluffy ending? i love what you do xx

guardian | draco malfoy

pairing: draco x gryffindor!reader

word count: 5,0k

summary: where y/n stands up for draco

a/n: thank you for requesting! this got longer than i intended lmao and i changed the plot of the movie a little to fit this one shot! hope you enjoy it <3

warnings: angst, mentions of blood, swearing, also harry is pretty nasty here

universe: harry potter

It is a cold, snowy and wintry day at Hogwarts, snowflakes slowly floating out of the greyish clouds above the already in a thick layer of snow covered castle. Christmas is just around the corner and everyone is looking forward to the Christmas holidays and to being able to calm down from the stressful exam periods for a few weeks with their loved ones. You can't wait any longer either, because this year will be something very special.

This year you invited your boyfriend Draco to spend the festive holiday season with you and your family so that you can finally introduce him to them - not that they don't know already who Draco Lucius Malfoy is. Even if you are a Gryffindor and your family has very different views and values than Draco's, they are still accepting him and ready to welcome him with open, warm arms. Unlike your best friends Harry, Ron and Hermione.

Given that you were sent to Gryffindor in your first year at Hogwarts, it was only a matter of time before you befriend the three of them. In fact, you first were friends with the Harry Potter himself before he introduced you to Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley and he is still one of your best friends until this point in time. However, when you got together with Draco Malfoy, the archenemy of the Golden Trio, they could no longer understand the world. How could someone like you be with someone like him?

Actually, you can't really explain it yourself, but at some point in your fourth year - probably when he asked you to go to the Yule Ball with him - one thing led to another and you found yourself madly in love with the platinum haired boy. Of course you can understand your best friends' view on your boyfriend, they have every reason to not like him, but it still does not give them the right to complain about your relationship over and over again. Instead of helping you with affairs of your and Draco's relationship, they often prefer to ignore you or give the popular answer: 'break up with him then'.

But because they are your closest friends, you (have to) tolerate their behavior, even if it has already caused you numerous sleepless nights. And Draco knows that. He knows how much the friendship with them can hurt you at times, and although he is not really fond of them either, he never once advised you to end your friendship. He is always trying to help you because deep inside he blames himself for making you feel so excluded from them. Because he is your boyfriend.

Several times he has already wondered whether he should break up with you just for the sake of you getting included into their friendship again. But he remained a little selfish and also was not strong enough to do it. He loves you too much.

Today, Harry and Ron made nasty remarks about Draco again right next to you in Potions, without taking into consideration that you were there. Only Hermione didn't get into their conversation and talked to you about the lesson. You don't know if she did it on purpose to distract you, but it luckily worked anyway.

Even so, you are smart enough to know that they talked about it until the end of the class. They talk about him all the time, it seems to have been their number one topic of conversation since the incident.

The incident when you went to the Three Broomsticks together several weeks ago to drink butterbeer and just enjoy yourselves, when you had to watch the poor girl Katie Bell, a Gryffindor from your year, pass out in front of you on the way back to Hogwarts. You helped her immediately and she was taken to the St. Mungo hospital. McGonagall later told you that it was a cursed necklace that was responsible for the accident.

And then it all started.

Harry and Ron were quick to blame Draco for the incident with Katie Bell, even though they had no sufficent proof at all. They were convinced that Draco must have had something to do with it, just because he is Draco Malfoy. And in fact, Draco actually acted strange lately, even towards you, but you would never assume that he would do something so cruel. Their accusions have grown so outrageous that you even had to distance yourself from your once best friends.

Still, you never told Draco about it. You know he would blew up in anger if he knew and since he is acting differently at the moment anyway, you don't want to make him feel even worse. That is why you kept it to yourself until now, to protect him.

After a while, you got closer with, mainly, Hermione again, but the constant reminders of what happened did not stop. Nevertheless you try your best to endure it and that is exactly why you are currently sitting at the Gryffindor table in the festively decorated Great Hall, listening to Harry and Ron's conversation, that, for once, is not about your boyfriend or what he might have done.

At least not until Katie Bell, happy and healthy, suddenly enters the Great Hall again after her absence.

"Harry, over there! Katie Bell is back", Ron whispers and Harry turns around to look for her. Immediately, you lower your fork, that still has food attached to it, and swallow down the lump in your throat, waiting for them to make their next move. To say you have a very bad feeling about this situation is an understatement. "Guys. Let her be, she just arrived-"

"I will go up to her and ask what happened. She will surely confirm that Malfoy gave her the cursed necklace", Harry explains, rudly ignoring your comment while already standing up. Before he leaves, Harry gives you a look that says something in the lines of 'i'll prove to you who you got involved with'.

With tension and anger slowly building up inside of you, because he just won't let it go, you can only watch Harry go away and confront Katie. From her gestures you absoultely can't tell what she is telling your 'best friend', you can only hope that she tells the truth and that it wasn't Draco.

Speaking of which, right in this moment Draco enters the Great Hall and unintentionally walks straight towards Harry, who has just finished his conversation with the victim and doesn't even come back to your table but directly walks in Draco's direction. Draco, realizing that something is wrong, turns around and leaves the hall as quickly as he entered it.

With a jolt you get up from the table, accidentally throwing down your fork to the ground, and run out of the Great Hall, following them. You don't know what Katie told Harry, but it can't be something good considering the look that you saw on Harry's face.

"Harry!", you loudly yell at him when you finally catch up to him in a long, empty hallway with no sign of Draco anywhere. You stop Harry from going further by grabbing his shoulder and pulling him back. "Stop chasing him, please. Draco has nothing to do with this", you try to convince him, even though you don't even know what Katie told him, and thoughts, thoughts that should not be there and not even exist, creep into your mind slowly but surely. Thoughts that Draco might actually have something to do with it after all.

"Why are you still protecting him, Y/N?! He cursed Katie Bell, maybe even wanted to kill her and you still don't want me to follow him just because you are so blind of love that you don't even notice the monster that he is?", Harry angrily spats out, pointing his wand at you, which he had already drawn out of his pocket while he was running before. Feeling uncomfortable with a wand so close to your face, you furiously slap it away with your hand.

"Don't you dare to ever talk about him like that again", you threaten Harry, grinding your teeth and clenching your fist in an attempt to not do something any second that you would probably regret. "He is and always will be a ruthless Malfoy, Y/N. So stop playing dumb. We both know that he did it", Harry responds, accompanied by a disappointed shake of his head.

"Do you have any evidence?", you ask, expectantly cocking your eyebrow at him. You don't really want to know if he does because if he really does, it will surely break your heart into pieces. "What evidence does it still need for you to finally understand?", Harry huffs out annoyed. "There is no point in discussing with you anyway. I just want to talk to your boyfriend, so if you would excuse me now."

Without waiting for your answer, he continues to run through the corridor quickly, but the anger in your veins has now become so great that you follow him instantly and, this time more roughly, grab him by the wrist, bringing him to a halt. When he removes his hand from your grip angrily, he accidentally hits you directly in the face, which is why you stumble back a few steps.

Shocked, you cover your face with your hands, trying to hold back the tears in your eyes that form from the stinging pain. Not only do you seem shocked, but Harry himself too. Slowly you remove your trembling hands, only to discover a thick red substance on it. Your stomach makes a flip at the sight. Harry hit you with so much force that your nose is bleeding.

"Y-Y/N. I didn't mean to-", he stumbles over his words, trying to make up for what he did only seconds ago. But maybe this was the one action that you needed to realize what kind of a 'best friend' you have.

Or had.

"You didn't mean to?!", you scoff, trying your best to stop the blood from flooding out of your nostrils. "So this was not what you wanted to do for a long time, huh? Did you not even realize how much you and your antics hurt me already? You always think you know everything better and act like the hero everyone has been waiting for when you should really think about whether you are the actual monster here, Potter."

And with these hurtful words you turn around on your heel and go look out for Draco by yourself, not caring what Harry has to say. Most of all, you wish to never have to exchange a word with him in your life ever again.

Still angry, you stomp through the lonely corridors on your own, hoping to find your boyfriend soon, especially before Harry does. On your way you notice that the blood is already dripping to the ground and thus you are trailing a trail of blood drops behind you. You are just about to wipe the blood off with the back of your hand when you suddenly hear crying echoing through the empty hallway. Without hesitation, you run in the direction of the suppressed sobs that are getting louder and louder the closer you get until you eventually stop in front of the boys bathroom.

You wipe your face with your hand once and crack open the door a tiny bit to be able to get a glimpse inside the room. The bathroom is quite dark and cold and your gaze directly falls onto a figure leaning against one of the sinks, sobbing bitterly. His entire body is shaking from crying, your heart breaking at the sight, and you can see the knuckles on his fragile hands turn white as his grip tightens on the edge of the sink.

"Draco?", you whisper as quietly as possible to not scare him, your voice only inches away from breaking at the sight you are seeing in front of you. He always portrays himself as strong and proud when in reality he is breaking inside. His head snaps up instantly, looking at you standing behind him through the dirty mirror, defintely not expecting you here.

Draco turns around to face you, his shoulders hanging low as he so badly trys to stifle his sobs, not wanting to show him his weak side. Only now you notice the deep dark circles under his beautiful eyes - which have also lost their shimmer - and how emaciated his face is, how thin his entire body has become. Trying not to cry yourself because of the horrible sight, you slowly walk towards him, picking up his sweater he threw on the floor. As soon as you stand in front of him, you carefully take one of his trembling hands in yours, neither of you saying a word.

Your hand gently strokes up his arm until you reach his shoulder and you then place your hand on his neck. You look deep into his eyes, which suddenly seem so helpless and anxious. "I haven't seen you in days.. You look terrible, Draco", you softly pout at him, brushing a tear from his cheek.

"It wasn't me, Y/N. No matter what they say, it really was not me", Draco whimpers silently, taking your hand that previously was on his neck in his, pressing it against his chest, right at the place where his fast pounding heart beats against his skin. His sad eyes, filled with so much pain, seek eye contact with you, his face taking a desperate posture, scared about what will happen. Scared that you will not believe him. "I have been doing a lot of very very bad things lately, but I really did not do anything to that girl. You have to believe me, Y/N! I would never-"

"I believe you, Draco", you interupt him with a reassuring smile, glad that he opend up to you even if it was just a tiny bit, and move a little closer to him, gaze focused on your intertwined hands. "I will always believe you, baby. It hurts me to see you like this."

"You were not supposed to ever see me like this", Draco confesses, lowering his head in defeat. You gently place your hand on his jawline and and lead his face to look at you. "Don't say something like that. We all are allowed to sometimes let down our guard, even a Draco Malfoy is allowed to do so. You can't always be strong. And even if you are hiding something from me, I know that you have a plausible reason for it. Because I trust you, Draco. With my life", you explain, smoothly placing a kiss on his tear stained cheek.

Despite your statement that was supposed to soothe his tense posture, worry, that you can easily identify, creeps into his pale face. Contrary to what you expect - that he is still worried about you not believing him -however, this concern applies to you. "You're bleeding, Y/N!", Draco realizes, frightened, and his cold hands cup your face immediately, examining your face in the most precise way.

Since you have totally forgotten about both your nosebleed and the half-dried blood on your hands, your breath hitches as his thumb lightly brushes your nose. Draco's previously white long-sleeved shirt has blood stains all over it now, as does his sweater that you are still holding in one of your hands. "What happened?", Draco asks with concern in his broken voice as you wipe away the blood with the back of your hand one more time.

While you are looking for a suitable answer and the right words, Draco gets you a towel to prevent the blood from running down your chin. Carefully, he dabs it over the lower part of your face while you convulsively grimace. "When.. when you ran out of the Great Hall after seeing Harry and Katie Bell talk, Harry followed you straight away, but I couldn't let him hurt you or do anything to you, so I went after him. I wanted to stop him and, well, he hit me right in the face with his hand", you describe what happend and Draco's expression that was still worried a few seconds ago suddenly turns into one of pure anger.

"He did what?", he spits out, clenching his fists. "Draco, please. I don't think he did it on purpose, but it finally showed me what kind of friends I have. Don't worry, it is not as bad as it looks like", you give him a loving smile, but even that does not seem to calm him down at all. "Not as bad as it looks?! He hit you bloody, Y/N! He is pathetic if he thinks that he will get away with it that easily. No, not with me. I'm going to find this bastard now and teach him a lesson, once and for all", Draco rages, his jaw clenched as he passes you and goes to the door.

You quickly grab his arm and prevent him from leaving when suddenly said person steps through the door to the bathroom. Draco's muscles tense under your grip. "You!", he yells at Harry immediately, jumping towards him but being held back by you. "You hexed her, didn't you? Why did you curse Katie Bell, Malfoy? What the hell are you up to again?", Harry confronts him, his brows furrowed.

"What did you do to my girlfriend, Potter?! Who do you think you are?", Draco immediately counters and tightly grabs Harry by the collar with his free hand. "I swear to Merlin, I will kill you."

Everything happens so quickly that you don't even realize it at first. Harry throws himself on Draco, who has broken out of your grip, hitting im with his fist directly in the face several times before Draco gains the upper hand and manages to kick Harry off of him, who slams on the floor with a cry. "Stop it you two! Do you want to kill yourselves?!", you step in, but Draco quickly gets up and pushes you to the side.

"Get out of here, Y/N. Now!", he orders, but you don't even think of leaving the two of them alone here. When Harry has straightend up again as well, they both have their wand in their hand, ready to fight. "Now it is time to show what the Chosen One is capable of", Draco provokes and shortly afterwards a red spell is already shooting in his direction. Draco skilfully evades the Expelliarmus spell and uses his own on Harry, also missing his target by a few inches.

"You have no chance against me, Malfoy", Harry mentions before attacking again, this time using Expulso. Draco dodges the spell which then hits the mirrors right between you and him, shattering them into a thousand pieces, the explosion throwing you to the ground. The floor of the room fills with water because the sinks were also damaged and Draco hastily pulls you out of the puddle. "Stay behind me", he quietly tells you, shooting at Harry who takes cover behind the toilet cabin.

For a moment, you do not hear any sound from his direction anymore. Draco's and your quick breath and the running water echo around the cold room. You cling more onto his arm, seeking protection, as you hear Harry's steps in the water. Draco immediately pulls you behind him, finding cover. Carefully, he looks around the corner, only to see Harry at the other end.

In the meantime you have also taken out your wand and listen closely to be able to locate Harry's exact position. Draco kneels down on the wet floor and looks under the cubicles, discovers Harry's feet on the other side and shoots Expulso at him. One of the toilets and cabins breaks under the impact of the spell and more water comes flooding onto the ground.

Draco and you quietly take a step forward to face Harry, but as soon as you do, a curse that you have never heard before flies into your direction. Draco stands in front of you to protect you and gets hit by the spell, stumbling back a few steps before falling to the floor with a splash. A loud scream escapes your throat and you manage to disarm Harry with Expelliarmus.

Whimpering, Draco lies on the floor covered in blood, the water around him turning a dark red color. With a cry you fall on your knees and crawl over to his trembling figure, carefully placing his head on your lap and holding his face in your hands. His body twitches at the pain emanating from the wounds that appear as if they have been slashed with a sword, and his lips quiver, emitting suffering noises.

"No, no, no, no! Look at me, baby. It will be alright, okay? We will fix it", you sob, caressing his cheek with your thumb as tears stream down your face. A shadow covers you as Harry slowly walks towards you. "What did you do? What kind of curse was that, Harry?! Undo it. Now!", you yell at him, your crying only getting worse. Shock and regret are written on his face, his gaze switching to Draco, who is suffering terribly. "Sectumsempra", Harry says in not more than a whisper. He himself does not know what he has done and shakes his head in disbelief, suddenly turning away from you and then he just runs out of the flodded bathroom.

"Come back, you coward! You can't just leave me here!", you shout after him, without succes. He is already gone.

While still holding Draco in your arms, you quickly look around for your wand, which lays in the water a few meters away from you. You carefully stretch in its direction and get hold of it. "Episkey", you whisper repeatedly, trying to stop Draco's bleeding, but to no avail. "HELP! Please, I need help. Someone has to help me", you yell as loud as you can, hopefully drawing someone's attention to you. Draco's breathing becomes faster and more irregular by every second that passes, his body trembling under your touch.

"Hold on, Draco. I will fix this, just stay with me, okay?", you assure him, but slowly lose hope yourself since all of the healing spells you have ever learned are unsuccessful. "I am so sorry..", you cry out, your forehead gently touching his. Now, all you can hear are your sobs and Draco's painful whimpers.

And footsteps.

"What happened here?", Professor Snape suddenly appears in the room, his eyes growing wide at the sight of the young and badly hurt Malfoy in your arms. "P-Potter.. He-", you try to explain but Snape shoves you to the side ungently, taking a closer look at Draco's injuries. He takes out his wand right away and runs the tip over Draco's wounded torso.

"Vulnera Salentur", Snape speaks to himself and you watch the puddle of blood that had formed around Draco's almost lifeless body disappear, as do the blood stains on his white shirt. Except those made of your blood.

His breathing regulates itself again and not waiting one more second, Professor Snape picks him up and directly heads to the door. You quickly follow him without saying a word, just sobbing to yourself all the way to the hospital wing. However, before you can go inside, you are stopped by Madam Pomfrey and can only watch Snape laying down Draco on one of the hospital beds before the door closes in front of you.

Heavily crying you lean against the wall with your back next to the door and let yourself sink to the floor, your knees drawn to your body and your forehead on top of them. Your small figure permeated by your bitter sobs, you don't even notice when the door opens after a few minutes and Snape stands in front of you. "Ms. Y/L/N", he clears his throat, your head shooting up in shock while tears run down your cheeks like waterfalls.

"Will he be okay?", you poud, wiping some of your tears away while standing up. "We assume. He needs a lot of rest", he explains and you nod in approval, sinking down your head. "I won't even bother to ask what happened. But you may want to get treated as well", he adds, pointing to the dried blood that is smeared over your face and hands. "Thank you, Professor, but I would rather stay here and wait", you answer in a sad voice.

"Then why out here?", Snape asks reproachfully, cocking an eyebrow. Confusion written all over your face you stare at him, not understand at all what he is pointing at, and he just crosses his arms with a sigh. "I told Madam Pomfrey about you and your relationship to Mr. Malfoy. She allows you to stay with him as long as you stay quiet", he explains. "O-Of course! I will not make any noise", you assure him and with a nod he leads you into the hospital wing.

Draco is lying on a white hospital bed with closed eyes, the blanket pulled up to his chin, only his head peeking out from underneath. Madam Pomfrey eyes you suspiciously, but still points to a chair next to the bed which you are supposed to sit on. You sit close to the bed and look at Draco with sad eyes, your tears still finding their way over your already damped cheeks. There are bluish purple spots on his face, the result of Harry's punches, and his lip has been treated where it was split open.

"He should regain consciousness soon. I have never treated a student who was under the Sectumsempra curse before. Let us hope for the best", says Madam Pomfrey as she clears some medical bottles from a small table next to you. "You are lucky that Professor Snape was there."

"Thank you, Professor. For everything", you sniff and give him the best warm smile you can manage right now. Snape seems quite surprised at your words, but then nods before leaving the room. Madam Pomfrey also leaves you and Draco alone for now.

The longer you look at Draco and his current condition, the worse the guilt builds up inside of you. You gently touch his forehead with your tembling hand and brush a platinum blonde strand from his face. "It's all my fault", you cry and search for his hand under the covers, which you then carefully take into yours. "I'm so sorry, Draco."

Dejected and overwhelmed by guilt, you drop your head and cry relentlessly, your sobs giving the empty room a sorrowful atmosphere. Suddenly, you feel pressure on your hand and look up. Draco's eyelids twitching lightly before his eyes slowly flutter open, his gaze meeting yours. "Hey, darling. What's wrong?", he asks in a hoarse voice, worry spreading over his features.

"You are awake!", you say, even more tears running down your cheeks. "I was so scared, Draco", you sob and he puts his hand on your cheek with a soft smile on his lips. "Look, I'm fine now, Y/N. You don't need to worry anymore", he tries to cheer you up even though you both perfectly know that he is not fine yet.

"If it hadn't been for me, none of this would have happened. And then I couldn't even help you and there was blood everywhere, your blood, and-", you ramble but his index finger on your trembling lips stops you from doing so. "There is no way that it is your fault, sweetheart. If anyone is to blame, it is Potter", he denies your statement. "B-But you could have die-"

"Stop it, Y/N! If anything, you saved my life. And I would do the same for you. I would go through this pain over and over again if it means that I can protect you", he states and you fall into his arms, his eyes now full of tears as well because in his eyes it looks like you have suffered a lot more than him. All the blood that is still covering your soaked clothes, your hands and your face, shows him that you are in a just as bad of a condition as he is.

"Don't cry because of me. I'm not worth your precious tears, sweetheart", he claims while giving you a tired smile. "I should have never trusted Harry. I didn't know that you could be so wrong about a person", you apologize again. "I can't believe I was so stupid!"

Draco, sensing your building up feelings of guilt, tries to sit up a bit but abruptly stops in his movement, hissing in pain. Alarmed, you get up and gently push him back into the mattress. "Does it still hurt? Should I let Madam Pomfrey know?", you ask worriedly and smooth the covers over his so fragile looking body. In your mind already on the way to Madam Pomfrey, Draco only shakes his head in disapproval. "No, I'm fine. Just a little bit sore, that's all", he genuinely smiles at you, grabbing your hand to pull you closer to him.

Your faces only inches away now you stare into his grey eyes while they roam over your face. "How is your nose?", he asks and his fingers, which found their way to your cheek earlier, lightly brush over the bridge of your nose. His questions makes you huff out and you move away, your cheeks turning in a slightly tint of red. "That is not important right now, Draco. You getting well again is much more important than my nose", you roll your eyes because he is still not paying attention to his own condition that is much worse than yours.

"Not for me", his stubborn self answers, pouding like a child. And before you know it he pulls you back and connects your lips in a loving and cheering kiss. A soft kiss to thank each other for being the other's guardian.

[pellucidity-is-me]

Poppy Pomfrey Hates Werewolves

Summary: The year is 1971, and Madam Pomfrey is finding it more difficult than expected to care for an eleven-year-old werewolf student. She turns to a late-night conversation with Minerva McGonagall in order to soothe her frustrations.

Wordcount: 3843

Poppy Pomfrey hated werewolves.

No, that wasn't the right wording. Poppy loved Remus very much; she thought that he was a clever, lovable boy who deserved to be at Hogwarts more than some of the other ridiculous buffoons (ahem: Potter and Black).

In fact, the Lupins in general were lovely people. Poppy remembered Remus' father, Lyall Lupin, from her first year at Hogwarts—he’d been six years older than she was and in a different House, so they hadn't been close. Yet she did remember that Lyall was a lot like Remus in the sense that he'd received very good marks and was usually quiet and mild-mannered. But his temper! Arguments with Lyall were bound to lead to a fight—either the Muggle way or the wizarding way; Lyall was willing to participate in either. Poppy saw Lyall in Remus often, even though she hadn't known Lyall very well. They looked alike, yes, but there was also something deeper. Both had odd interests and were a bit eccentric. Both were clever. Both had an unexpectedly honed sense of humor. And both (as Poppy knew from some of Hope's letters) were very prone to guilt.

Hope was Remus' mother, and Poppy liked her just as much as she liked Remus. She was a wonderful mother and a lot of fun. A stereotypical doting mother, really. Hope, like Lyall and Remus, was very funny, and Poppy often found herself laughing out loud at her letters. Poppy probably learned much more about young Remus than Remus would have been comfortable with, but Hope just couldn't help oversharing. Poppy suspected that she'd never before had anyone to talk to about Remus without fear of his lycanthropy getting out. Poppy liked Hope so much, in fact, that they had plans to meet during Christmas holidays. Poppy could see the two of them becoming very good friends.

Yes, Poppy was fond of Remus, as well as both of his parents. But she hated werewolves.

Not werewolves. Not really. Poppy hated lycanthropy. Poppy hated the fact that Remus had to go through unimaginable pain every single month. And he was so young! Four years old, that's how old he had been. It made Poppy feel ill sometimes, and it was the type of illness that even she—the most experienced school matron in the world, probably—could not cure.

It had gone relatively well for the first couple of months—well, not well, per se, but they’d survived. At least Remus had always been conscious and somewhat coherent afterwards. Remus had a habit of making jokes when he was uncomfortable, and it always made it easier to stop feeling so horrible when he was making the odd sarcastic comment. But the first December full moon was far worse than usual. 

When Poppy crawled through the tunnel the morning after the December full moon and saw Remus, unconscious on the floor and bleeding out, she nearly vomited. She wasn't ready for this! She couldn’t! She’d never had to do anything like this before, and this was absolutely terrible. He shouldn’t have to deal with that every month. She shouldn’t have to deal with this every month. 

How dare Dumbledore ask her to help him? She was only human. She couldn't see this, month after month and day after day. Such a young student. So small and thin and delicate. This was horrible for her, too!

And no one even asked her! It wasn't as if Dumbledore had said "Good morning, Poppy, would you be willing to care for a werewolf in September 1971?" No, he had flat-out told her that there was nothing she could do about it. She still remembered his exact words. A very special student... infected with lycanthropy... deserves a chance to learn, as all children do... Poppy will be caring for him after full moons... Don't try to protest his coming here, I have made my decision. Ridiculous. The man never asked anyone else's opinion. 

Poppy wouldn't have protested, though, and she felt even worse when she realized what she was insinuating. Remus, stay home and never come to Hogwarts? That wouldn't stop the transformations; that would only make them worse. Besides, having to see it was nothing compared to actually going through it... But still. It was so hard to think of it all—so difficult to be given a burden that no one, be it child or school matron, should have to carry.

Poppy was used to being able to help people. That was her job. She loved helping people. But there was no cure for lycanthropy, and it was far beyond Poppy’s abilities to comprehend, even, how terrible it must be for the eleven-year-old child... for a five-year-old child. Remus had endured countless full moons, and each one left him with injuries worse than some of the worst accidents that Poppy had ever seen. It made her sick.

Regardless of her feelings, though, Poppy now stood in the Shrieking Shack. Her wand was dangling limply from her hand as she stared at the deep gashes in the wall and the equally limp boy on the floor who had somehow—somehow—made them.

She couldn't help it at that point. She left. She couldn't look at him any longer; it was driving her mad.

She'd always thought magic to be a wonderful thing: capable of healing and helping and loving. But it wasn't. Magic wasn't all good at all. Here was the darker side—the horrific, awful, terrifying side that left eleven-year-old children so ill that they couldn't eat, turned them into horrifying beasts against their will, and then left them bruised and broken on the floors of their own torture chambers. Why did she even try? She couldn't change anything. She'd never help Remus Lupin, no matter how much time she spent soothing his worries and healing his injuries. He'd always have to go through this. There was no cure, and Poppy felt helpless. She hadn't felt this awful since she'd failed that student who spent half a year as a rock.

She’d only meant to leave for a bit (she needed more potions for Remus, anyhow, and she also needed a bit of air. Remus would be fine). But then she came across a panicking Slughorn who professed that a girl had drank too much of a potentially deadly potion and needed to be taken to St. Mungo’s. The girl’s parents weren’t available. Someone would have to take her.

When Professor John Questus, current Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, offered to stay and look after Remus, Poppy couldn’t help but seize the opportunity to take a breather.

So she took the girl to St. Mungo’s herself and left Remus with the Defense professor. She needed some time away—some time to think things over. She knew that it was probably the better option to stay with Remus, but she couldn't. She couldn't help popping in every few hours over Floo to make sure that Remus had not died due to her negligence—but she stayed away, for the most part. And she talked to Remus' toad that had crept into her apron. He really was good conversation, even if he was slimy-looking and warty.

"What was your name? Bufo?"

Bufo blinked.

"Do you think I've failed?"

Bufo cocked his gross little head.

"People trusted me, and I just left. That's unacceptable."

Bufo croaked.

"I'm a terrible matron." Poppy felt tears well up in her eyes. She'd left Remus to John Questus. John Questus! He was probably asking Remus all sorts of uncomfortable questions and snapping at him for being too emotional when Remus needed love and comfort and care. Because that was what John Questus did. As a former Auror, he knew Healing magic, to be sure... but he just wasn’t the type of person to care for a scared child. 

Remus was injured, and Poppy had left him—left him!—all alone on the floor of the Shrieking Shack—the Shrieking Shack!—with no one to help him. What if he had woken up all alone and scared and in pain and waited, but no one came, and then the most horribly unsympathetic professor at Hogwarts showed up and told him that Poppy had left! Just left! Poppy didn't want to think of how awful Remus, who already mistakenly assumed that most everyone hated him, might have felt.

Suddenly, she felt a small weight on her shoulder. She opened her eyes and saw Bufo snuggling against her neck. Poppy sniffed and patted his leathery skin a bit—he wasn't so bad, after all.

And Remus seemed mostly okay when she'd returned to Hogwarts. John had missed one of his wounds, and it ended up becoming terribly infected. Poppy was angry with John at first, but it didn't take long before she realized that it was her fault. The man wasn't an experienced Healer, after all, even though he did know a bit of Healing magic. Remus was her job, and she'd abandoned him just because she was feeling emotional.

Now it was Tuesday, and Poppy was certain that Remus would sleep through the night. He was looking so much better, and Poppy had no doubt that he would be all right upon going back to classes on Wednesday. Even his arm was healing up, and he'd managed to walk around the Hospital Wing the other day without any problems—he even took a bath all by himself. So she left him in her office (under the watchful eyes of Bufo), and went to talk to Minerva McGonagall.

Minerva and Poppy had been in the same year at Hogwarts and had been acquaintances (despite the fact that they were in different Houses). Since Minerva had already been teaching when Poppy had become the matron, they'd only gotten closer. Poppy would consider Minerva to be her closest friend, even—they certainly saw a lot of each other. They'd been colleagues for about twenty years now. It was mad, how quickly the time flew.

Poppy knew that Minerva was uncomfortable around Remus (she never liked werewolves much), but it was clear that she was trying—Poppy appreciated that. And Remus seemed to enjoy Minerva's company (but then again, he seemed to enjoy everybody's company. Even John Questus', for some reason). Poppy had never spoken to Minerva about Remus one-on-one (though she tended to chatter about him during staff meetings), but she was sure that Minerva wouldn't mind.

She knocked on Minerva's door, and Minerva let her in with a smile. "Poppy. May I help you?"

"I... only need to talk." Poppy often came to Minerva to chat; despite Poppy's no-nonsense exterior and usually-immaculate bedside manner, she was frightfully emotional. Anyone who told the students that, though, would be getting a rather nasty hex that Madam Pomfrey "wouldn't be able to heal".

"Of course," said Minerva. "Come in; I'll make tea."

"Are you sure? It's late, and I don't want to keep you up."

"I'm sure. I was having trouble sleeping, anyway."

"Yes, I noticed that your hair is still up."

Minerva smiled and undid her bun. "It's been a long day. Do you know, Potter and Black still insist on calling me by my first name? Those insolent, disrespectful..."

"I can't believe that Remus is friends with them."

"Is this about Remus, then?" said Minerva, nearly laughing. "You have that same look on your face whenever you talk about him during the staff meetings."

Poppy rearranged her face. "Look? What kind of look?"

"You worry about him. Understandably so, of course."

"Yes, yes." Minerva offered Poppy a teacup, and she took it gratefully. "I just... I can't. Minerva, it's awful!"

Minerva sat back patiently with her own cup of tea, not even batting an eye. "Yes, I know."

It all came spilling out at once. "I've done research! We all have! Did you read the article in the paper? The Shrieking Shack, they call it. Shrieking? Wolves don't shriek, Minerva—people do! It's painful; it's hurting him! And his pain threshold is so incredibly high that I... I can't even... I can't even imagine how bad it is, to make him hurt enough to actually cry out. He's so thin and sickly and pale all the time, and he's so small and delicate for his age, and he... I can't get over his pain threshold! He doesn't even flinch when I heal a broken bone, Minerva. Doesn't even flinch. He walks all the way back to the castle, month after month, with worse injuries than... than anything, really.

"And he just has to live with it—wounds all over his body all the time, can't even heal up completely before the next full moon rolls around, can't eat properly on the day before, can't even attend class because he's feeling so sickly. He gets through injuries that would cripple a grown man... and complains less than a miffed Gryffindor when Slytherin wins the House Cup! And he has to live with it! All the time!"

Minerva looked appropriately saddened and kept listening silently. She was good at that.

"He was four, he told me. Four, nearly five. He was attacked by a fully-fledged werewolf—and he let slip that said werewolf attacked him on purpose!—when he was a little more than a toddler. I've seen the scar, and I know enough about injuries to know that it must have been life-threatening. And most of it is on his shoulder, just near his neck! Just... can you imagine? Being a four-year-old child and a werewolf biting you—only inches away from snapping your neck... and then living as one? He's traumatized! He has nightmares, Minerva! Still! After six years, and he flinches whenever I get close."

Minerva pursed her lips and refilled Poppy's tea, which she had spilled all over her lap. Poppy didn't even care at this point.

"I hate it. I hate it. I hate coming to the Shack and seeing him half-dead. I hate his complacent expression, like he's been through it many before... because he has! He has! It's... what, eighty times now? I don't know! And he probably doesn't even keep track, because it's such a normal thing now! That sort of thing should never be normal! And not for a child, especially. A child! Eleven, but he looks so much older—he's so much more mature than he should be—he's seen more than children should, been through more than I have! Merlin's beard. Sometimes I want him to yell at me and get angry over it all, because he never really has. Cool as a cucumber about the whole thing. He's FINE, he says!"

Tears were running down Poppy's face now, but she made no attempt to stop them. Minerva had seen her cry many, many times before. In fact, she'd cried most recently when she'd lost her favorite pair of slippers. It was hard, keeping it in all day for fear of frightening the students.

"And no one ever asks me how hard it is. No one ever talks about me. Plenty of people say "poor Remus", and goodness knows he deserves it, even if he doesn't want it. But no one even thinks about how hard it is for me—to help a child—with an incurable illness—that I can't do anything about! To watch him fight through unimaginable pain, to see him suffering, to watch him get feverish and pass out in the middle of a sentence and refuse to eat and drown his pain in books! He's just... in my office... for days, every single month... and I just have to go about my business, knowing that there's nothing I can do. There's no cure! He won't even let me help him before a full moon because potions and things irritate him on the full moon. There's nothing I can do! Think about it! I can't get over it!"

Minerva wordlessly handed Poppy a handkerchief, and Poppy blew her nose. "It's not just about him," Poppy said, calming down a little. "It's not just about me, either. It's just... it's something that made me realize how much darkness is in the world... how unfair things are... how people can suffer so much without deserving it. I knew, before. But I didn't really believe it... and now it's just all so overwhelming. There are so many hurting people in the world. Remus isn't even the only werewolf in Britain. And I can't help everyone. I'm confined to this school—this small school in a world full of billions of people—and I can't... even... help everyone... in the tiny school! I hate it."

Minerva spoke for the first time. "I know," she said, and stood up to embrace Poppy tightly. "I know." A minute later, she pulled away, and the front of her robes were wet from Poppy's tears. Poppy could sense helpful advice coming. "Do you want to know what I think?" Minerva asked quietly, and Poppy looked up at her with watery eyes.

"What?"

"We all have varying levels of pain. I think that all of us have a sort of pain that unimaginable to another. Such is life. We shouldn't dwell on the pain that we all inevitably have: instead, we should focus on the good things that we have. Remus Lupin is a... well, he's ill. But he has two wonderful parents who love him. His 'normal' is different from ours, but that doesn't mean he has a completely awful life. It's just a different kind of normal—a new normal."

Poppy nodded and sniffed a little.

"And he has three friends who accept him."

"We don't know that."

"For right now, they do. And he has plenty of intelligence and activities that he enjoys. And he plays outside with his friends—did you see his face at the last Quidditch match? Or on Halloween?"

"No, I was sitting with the Hufflepuffs. And the full moon wasn't until November second."

"I've never seen him so happy," Minerva assured her. "It isn't the dark that we should focus on, it's the light that cancels it out. With all people—everyone that you can't help. It's just life, Poppy. Just life. No matter how much we think about how awful things are, they won't change... but thinking about how wonderful things are can change our mindsets, at least."

Poppy granted her a watery smile. "Thank you. That helps."

"Of course it does. I'm a very helpful person, you know."

Poppy nodded, ever thankful. "Now that I've done my ranting," she said, feeling a lot better than she had been feeling mere minutes ago, "I'll give you some time to rant about Potter and Black."

"Oh, thank goodness." Minerva straightened up and immediately went off on a tirade about their shenanigans: disrespect, loud voices, lack of motivation, disregard for the rules... et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. Poppy had heard it all before.

"I think you like them," said Poppy slyly once Minerva had finished.

"What? No!"

"Oh no, you definitely like them. Potter is fantastic at Transfiguration, is he not? And flying? Both things that you're talented at, yourself."

"Well... maybe I do like them a little," admitted Minerva with a heavy sigh, "merely because they're Gryffindors through and through. Don't tell anyone."

Poppy hummed her consent and took a sip of tea. "So... that game you play with Remus that you mentioned earlier...? Tell me more."

Minerva laughed. She didn't laugh often around students, and Poppy loved to hear it. "I wasn't very comfortable around him at first; you know that. And he knew it too. He was obviously uncomfortable around me, too—things were awkward at first. Classes consisted of avoiding eye contact, mostly. It was distracting. So I told him that we'd play a game of sorts: whichever of us can act normally around the other first wins. We've been giving each other points. I'm winning."

"Not what he told Albus."

Minerva sipped her tea. "He's deluded."

"So... any reason why you aren't comfortable around werewolves? It seems a bit odd for you of all people to be afraid..."

"Not afraid!" protested Minerva. "Just uncomfortable. As you know, I'm half-blood, and my mother—a witch—took pride in her heritage. She told me stories of the wizarding world all the time—trying to bring me back to my roots, even though we lived in a Muggle village. I heard so many tales of werewolves being a danger to society, even from an early age. They're bogeymen, Poppy. The monsters under the beds. Children grow up with an innate fear of them... They ask their parents to check their closets for them before they go to sleep. Their parents tell them that that a werewolf will eat them if they get out of bed or disobey the rules. I was so afraid of werewolves as a child that I hated going outside at night. There's a fear instilled in young children, and it takes a while to shake off. That's all. It's not that I'm afraid of him—you know me, I'm a proud Gryffindor. I just don't like... the idea of it."

"Even though he's so small and harmless?"

"Yes. I'm not proud of it." Minerva finished off her tea. "But I can stand to be around him much more easily now. I like him, you know. Quiet, calm. The exact opposite of Potter and Black."

"Do you ever shut up about them?" Poppy teased.

"I'll shut up about them when you shut up about Remus. All you ever talk about these days."

"He's the only company I have these days!"

"Except when John Questus visits..." teased Minerva. She knew all about Poppy's hatred towards John Questus—he had, in fact, been the subject of Poppy's last after-hours rant.

"Ugh! Don't even talk about him. The horrible, insensitive..."

"Yes, I know. You've ranted about him to me before. I think you fancy him, don't you?"

"Who, John?" Poppy gagged. "That's too far. I'm going to bed now."

"You accused me of liking Potter and Black. I'm only returning the favor."

"It's not the same thing! I do not fancy John Questus!"

"Sweet dreams," called Minerva. "I'll plan the wedding."

"You're such a child!" snapped Poppy, opening the door to leave. "You sound like Potter."

Minerva feigned disgust. "You'd better leave before I hex you."

Poppy obliged, shutting the door with a little more force than necessary and heading back to the Hospital Wing to check on Remus.

Minerva, she reflected, was a wonderful friend, and she was glad that Remus had a few such friends of his own.

Everybody needed friends, didn't they?

AN: Another scene from my fanfic (link in blog description). I don’t think John Questus has ever made an appearance on my tumblr before, just because he’s an OC and hard to explain in short snapshots like this—but he’s my favorite character lol and I was waiting for a good moment to mention him!

[atruththatyoudeny]

Monthly Reads | December 2020

I haven’t had much time to read much this month but I really enjoyed all these fics. As always, all the love for all the authors. Thank you for making this time brighter ♥

❅ Like a Picture Print by Currier & Ives | armadillosunset | Christmas - fluff - humor - established relationship - 10k “What thrift store clearance bin did you pull that atrocity out of?” Niall wheezes, doubling over from laughing so hard. They all stand there, holding their collective breaths in that moment. Everyone except Niall, whose laughter is the only sound in the entire flat — the entire building, the entire universe at this moment. “Didn’t know we were doing an ugly sweater party this year! Why didn’t anyone tell me?” — Every year, for as long as they’ve been dating, Harry knits his boyfriend, Louis, a sweater. And every year, Harry hopes for a ring on his finger in return. Maybe this is the year Harry finally gets what he wants.

❅ Baby, You're On My List | lovelarry10 | Christmas - fluff - meet cute - pining - kid fic - 17k Harry takes his niece to see Father Christmas, but he doesn't count on meeting the cutest Christmas elf. Taken by the handsome stranger, Harry decides to recruit as many children as he can so he can see him again, and again, and again...

❅ The Ideal Flatmate | Larry_you_know | Christmas - roommates - hate to love - musunderstandings - no smut - 12k Louis shares his flat with the ideal flatmate (or I-F as he often nicknames him). Harry is a bit younger and a bit taller than him. He’s polite and there is nothing to complain about. Harry rarely brings someone over, he isn’t loud, he eats at the table and when he uses the shared area for his crafting projects he always tidies after himself. Harry doesn’t bother Louis and he pays his share in time. The ideal flatmate. The only problem is: Harry hates Louis. This will be very lovely Christmas.

❅ room for your love underneath this tree | we_are_the_same | Christmas - famous/famous - strangers to lovers - fluff - no smut- first meetings - 11k “IwannameetHarryStyles,” Daisy mumbles, and Louis blinks. “What?” “She says she wants to meet Harry Styles.” Phoebe pipes up, and Louis blinks again, absently switches the camera to himself because he knows that his followers will want to catch his baffled expression. “You-” he starts, and then stops himself, because he did tell her she could ask for anything she wanted, and how can he go back on his word and tell her that he doesn’t actually have the power to make that happen? Because Harry Styles is -- he’s next level kind of famous. Louis has two million subscribers on his YouTube, but Harry has eighteen times as many followers on his Twitter alone. He’s had three number one hits in the last year, and his last album had charted at the top spot for a record breaking 27 weeks. He’s a singer, actor and philanthropist, and there is no way in hell that Louis can get him to come meet Daisy for Christmas. So of course he laughs, even if it’s a little bit breathless, and nods at her. “One Harry Styles for Christmas, coming right up.”

❅ Something Carries On | blue_marauder | Christmas- angst - fluff - minor character death - anxiety - strangers to lovers - 18k Louis would do anything to escape the prison of his emotions around the holidays. He would even go so far as to abandon his remaining family members and go on a trip to Greece, seeing as they're better off without his holiday angst anyway. While on his trip, Louis meets a kind and vulnerable stranger who manages to break through his defenses.

❅ blinded by the sparks | wallstracktwo | angst - fluff - smut - 22k "You can’t even keep your lies straight. Mike has the memory of an elephant and can remember every single detail about every single person he’s ever met, so don’t stand there and tell me that he mixed you up with someone else.” He took back Harry’s cigarette. “I saw you exchanging lower chips for higher ones. I saw you counting the cards. There is no fucking way you won seven thousand dollars tonight honestly. And so I will repeat myself — I want in. Fifty-fifty.” Harry was completely taken aback by the stunningly attractive man standing in front of him. He made several attempts to say something — opening and closing his mouth at least twice before he was finally able to string a few words together. “What? No. No way. No. Sorry, but I work alone.” That was the truth too — he had never trusted anyone enough to let them get close, especially when it came to his scamming, so having a partner was completely, utterly out of the question. “Don’t you think you need someone on the…” Louis’ tongue darted out, licking his lips as his eyes flickered to Harry’s mouth, one eyebrow cocking up. “...inside.” Or - Harry is a scammer who drifts from casino to casino. Louis is the new waiter who wants in on the scam.

❅ The Golden Prince | behappyhl | royalty - mistaken identity - strangers to lovers - grief/mourning -19k When He arrives in London, he’s speechless. It’s so different from his little hometown, he can’t help the feeling that it is an unknown planet. Everything is bigger; The streets, the buildings, the stores. The people are always running somewhere, always in a hurry. Harry instantly feels out of place. Or, Harry lives a perfectly normal life until he gets a life changing job opportunity.

❅ somewhere in between | soldouthaz | dom/sub - strangers to lovers - 43k Louis wakes up early. He brushes his teeth and can only stomach a piece of toast for breakfast, dressing quickly and heading for the car. He pulls into the parking lot of the Department of Dominance and Submission just as they’re unlocking the doors. It takes him all of an hour in the uncomfortable chairs to fill out the paperwork to the best and most accurate of his ability, handing it over to the receptionist as soon as he’s finished and wiping his sweaty palms on his business trousers. There’s a high chance that within ten to fifteen business days, Louis will be matched with a dominant. Shit.

❅ tastes like summer, smiles like may | outropeace | a/b/o - historical - hate to love - royalty - arranged marriage - slow burn - unrequited love - angst - 47k “Is this true?” Harry grabbed the beta by the shoulders. “Bryce, where did you hear that?” “There’s rumors going around the castle,” he smirked. “stories about his beauty and his cold attitude. They know he is an omega only because of his scent, but he has never had a heat.” “Do you know what this means?” Bryce smirk grew into a big smile. “He can’t give you an heir.” A cold prince, an alpha with nothing left to lose and a kingdom with a secret.

❅ sweet like honey | falsegoodnight | college/university - roommates - friends to lovers - friends with benefits - amateur porn - minor angst - 33k Weeks of flat shopping with their limited budget with Louis as a librarian aid and Harry as a barista and arguments about whether a balcony or extended bathroom suite were more important (Harry wanted to be able to feel the crisp night’s air and watch the sun set and Louis just wanted to take long bubble baths) led to them stumbling across the perfect fit. A small flat only ten minutes from campus with a cramped but lovely balcony and an included bath. It’s affordable too… well, sort of. But they always manage. Louis picks up more shifts as an aid, adapting a habit of bringing his Psych textbooks and homework with him to finish in between duties, and later his script so he can quietly practice lines with little distraction. Harry also increases his number of shifts at the cafe and valiantly endures the nasty customers who for some reason flock to their establishment like moths to a flame. For a while, it’s enough. - Or, Harry and Louis need money and they find an unconventional solution in the form of PornHub. It’s not supposed to be a big deal.

[chiaki-translation]

New Year! Red and White Kakushigei Tournament! Event Translation Ch5-8

Urgh, I wanted to do this earlier, but I had to go for a medical checkup earlier this week and the people there messed up my queue number. I ended up waiting the whole day just for them to say they only open half day...

But whatever, I’m back, the next few chapters are here, enjoy~ The rest should be up in a few days too, I hope that I can clear this event before Christmas~

New Year! Kakushigei Tournament Ch1-4 / / Ch5-8 / / Ch9-Epilogue

Disclaimer:

A3! is owned by Liber’s Entertainment

Juza:

The snow bunny is done.

Priest:

Ah, thank you so much.

Yup, they’re not that consistent…

Well, that doesn’t really matter, this is good.

Banri:

Anyway, why the snow bunny.

Priest:

There’s a legend for it.

Hisoka:

Legend?

Priest:

Once upon a time, snow fell on a certain village, to pray for good weather, the villagers made a statue of a bunny made of snow. But the snow statue is fragile, and the villagers accidentally broke it one day.

Following that, heavy snow fell, the villagers have to suffer through the extreme weather.

It is said that in the end, the villagers danced endlessly to wish for the heavy snow to stop… It’s that kind of legend.

Azuma:

Hmm…

Chikage:

A legend from the past huh.

Priest:

The dance that everyone will be performing this time is also a tradition of the past… Please do your best to show its value.

Tsuzuru:

Ugh… What pressure.

Tenma:

Hmm. I’m going to do them perfectly, the performance and the dance too.

<Shifts to Stage>

Priest:

Be graceful with your fingertips, feel the flow! 1,2,3…!

You over there, I told you to look more courteous right!

Juza:

Yes…!

Hisoka:

The spartan style doesn’t change…

Priest:

Express your prayer! The hand should be like this!

Move forward over here and turn around. Match the time with the movement properly!

Tenma:

Alright, understood.

Azuma:

Like this.

Banri:

Should be like this, let me try it one more time.

Priest:

Hmm… Most of you are experienced from the moon-viewing party…

Those who participated for the first time, you’re also doing quite well.

I don’t see much hardship here, that’s too bad.

Tsuzuru:

Why would you want us to be full of hardship in the first place…

<Shifts to Shrine>

Chikage:

Good work for the practice.

Azuma:

That was quite tiring.

Banri:

Well, we ended up practicing for quite long.

Kid A:

There!

Kid B:

Woah! I won’t let you get away!

Take this!

Kid C:

Hahaha!

Tenma:

A snowball fight huh…

Juza:

They’re so energetic.

Kid A:

Over here-!

Kid B:

Wait wait!

Kid C:

Take that!

Children:

Ah!!

Kid A:

The snow bunny-!

Kid B:

They’re broken…

Kid:

What should we do…

Banri:

Ah… Those are the one we made, don’t mind it.

Kid C:

We’re sorry…

Tsuzuru:

Everyone properly apologized. It’s alright.

It’s getting dark soon though, everyone should make your way back soon.

Children:

Yes.

Tenma:

…

Hisoka:

Tenma, what happened.

Tenma:

Nothing, I just remember about the legend that the priest told us earlier.

Juza:

Ah… The one about the heavy snow.

Banri:

It’s just a legend isn’t it, it will be fine if we just remake it.

Chikage:

That’s exactly the flag.

Juza:

… I’m hungry.

Tenma:

Right.

Azuma:

Since we’re already outside, why don’t we go get dinner together to celebrate the kick-off of this dance team.

Banri:

Oh, nice idea.

Azuma:

Fufu, it’s fine to do this kind of thing once in a while right.

<End of Chapter 5>

Chikage:

Then, where should we eat?

Tsuzuru:

The practice was tough, I’m pretty hungry.

Juza:

How about Chinese food.

Banri:

Nah, sushi is better isn’t it.

Juza:

Huh?

Banri:

You want to fight?

Tsuzuru:

No, don’t start fighting here!

Azuma:

If it’s sushi, I know a good place near here.

Tenma:

Azuma-san’s recommendation huh.

Juza:

Sounds like an expensive one…

Azuma:

It’s alright, I won’t let you guys spend on it.

Right, Chikage.

Chikage:

… Well, I guess so.

Hisoka:

… Thank you.

Chikage:

What are you saying.

You’re also a working adult, don’t be spoiled.

Hisoka:

… Stingy.

Azuma:

Juza’s fine with it right?

There are delicious Japanese sweets there too.

Juza:

… Yeah.

<Shifts to Sushi Restaurant>

Banri:

Oh, it feels like a great place.

Tsuzuru:

It looks more luxurious than I thought…

I wonder how much it will cost.

Azuma:

Alright then, what should we eat.

Banri:

Speaking of which, we haven’t called about dinner today.

Tenma:

Then, I’ll go ahead and LIME Director.

Oh, a reply.

She said that she wants us to go shopping on the way back.

Juza:

Shopping for?

Tenma:

It seems to be the tools for the cleaning day. I got the list.

Banri:

Ah, it’s going to be that time of the year huh.

Tsuzuru:

Will the storage room finally be cleaned…

Chikage:

After the cleaning day, shrine event, and the new year party, everyone will be going home for the holiday right.

Azuma:

You’re right.

Banri:

Speaking of which, how does the dorm feel like on New Year’s Eve?

Hisoka:

… It’s peaceful.

Azuma:

We watched the new year show, arranged the new year soba made by Omi and eat together.

Tenma:

There were times when we got too excited watching the variety show and it ended up becoming a no-laugh competition.

Banri:

Hmm…

Juza:

I see.

Chikage:

It’s unusual for you to want to listen to such story, Banri.

Banri:

Nah, actually, I’m not going home this year.

Tsuzuru:

Eh, is it that you can’t go home?

Banri:

My family suddenly told me that they are going on a trip to Hawaii.

I refused to go because I have practice for my university’s performance right after new year.

I go home every year during new year, I just never thought that I won’t go home this year.

Azuma:

I see… I guess it’s unavoidable if you already have plan beforehand…

Hisoka:

… Are you sure you’re alright with it?

Banri:

Well, once in a while I can celebrate new year in the dorm too right.

Chikage:

…

<End of Chapter 6>

Priest:

…Hmm, it’s good.

Everyone, you did well enduring the rigorous practice.

The dance came out perfect too.

Banri:

Alright.

Juza:

Thank you.

Chikage:

Thanks to you, Mr Priest.

Priest:

What’s left is the weather of the event day, but I’m quite worried.

Tsuzuru:

During this time, the snow has accumulated slowly.

Banri:

Well, it will work out somehow.

Azuma:

When we’re back in the dorm, let’s make some teru-teru bouzu.

Tsuzuru:

You’re right.

Hisoka:

Yeah.

<Short Time Skip>

Tenma:

Good work for practice today.

Hisoka:

Good work.

Azuma:

Eh? Where’s Chikage?

Juza:

I thought he was here earlier…

Azuma:

It’s Chikage, maybe he has something urgent.

Tsuzuru:

What should we do, should we go back first then?

Banri:

I’m going to look around for a bit. You guys can go back first.

Tenma:

Understood.

<Shifts to Shrine>

Banri:

This shrine is quite big…

Chikage:

…

Banri:

Oh, found you.

So you were here.

Chikage:

Ah, Banri.

I was asked by Misumi to take pictures of Mr rabbit so I came here, but…

Banri:

… Eh, it’s empty.

Chikage:

It seems like he ran away.

Banri:

… Seriously.

Chikage:

Well, we’re talking about that rabbit, I think he’ll be back before anyone realized.

But Misumi asked me to take some pictures, I can’t just leave him alone too, so I’m going to look for him now.

Banri:

Then, I’ll tag along with you.

Chikage:

Thank you, that will help.

<Shifts to Forest>

Banri:

… Can we even find him in this kind of place?

Chikage:

We searched for that run-away rabbit in this forest before.

I thought he would generally go to the same place—

!

Banri:

Woah, it’s pretty quick on its feet.

Chikage:

Right.

Banri:

I’m going to catch him.

Then, I’m going from this way.

Chikage:

Yeah, I’ll leave it to you. I’m going to the other side.

Banri:

It’s that bush huh…

Chikage:

Banri is over there.

That means, from here…

Banri:

Oh, it’s a signal from Chikage-san.

I see, understood.

Turn around, and come here…

Rabbit:

…!

Banri:

Alright!

Caught it.

Chikage:

We managed to capture it nicely.

Banri:

It’s just like the usual interaction for an ‘escape game’ isn’t it.

Chikage:

You’re right.

Ah, what a good timing, let’s take a picture of Banri holding the rabbit.

Banri:

Huh? Well, it’s not that I mind…

Chikage:

I’m sure Misumi will be happy too.

<End of Chapter 7>

Banri:

The rabbit has been returned to the shrine safely, mission complete.

Chikage:

Returning him is one thing, but if he keeps running away even the shrine will be fed up with it.

Banri:

But, for Misumi’s sake aside, it was honestly surprising for Chikage-san who is not good with animal to go that far.

Chikage:

… That rabbit was separated from his siblings suddenly and it seems that he’s still looking for them to this day.

The priest knew about the situation and he said that he would cooperate and search for his siblings too, but it seems that he’s been too busy for it.

Banri:

Hmm… I see.

Chikage:

Because of that, I guess I feel a bit of sympathy for him.

Banri:

… Chikage-san, did something similar happen to you before.

Chikage:

About that, I’ll leave it to your imagination.

Banri too, you were talking about not going home this year…

Next year’s new year, it’s not certain that you will be able to spend it with your family like before.

Banri:

… What is it, so suddenly.

Chikage:

It’s just a possible scenario.

Of course, it can also be said for other events in general, like birthday and Christmas, but—

Here, you’re not doing anything in particular, like watching the new year show, eating new year soba.

I don’t mind spending my time like that, Japanese new year feels like a family event more than any other events,

… Well, I only know that after joining the theatre troupe, I can’t say that I’m very knowledgeable about it.

Banri:

…

Chikage:

Like that rabbit, there’s a possibility that you will get separated from your family without any warning.

That’s why, Banri too, I thought it would be better for you to at least show your face at home.

Banri:

…

Chikage:

Did I meddle a bit too much.

Banri:

Nah… It’s fine.

<Time Skip>

Juza:

It’s finally the day.

Director:

Everyone, are you ready?

Hisoka:

Yeah.

Azuma:

We were worried about the snow, but it seems that it won’t fall tonight.

Tsuzuru:

We did some promotion for the event, the number of audiences here seems to be good too.

Hisoka:

It’s pretty crowded.

Chikage:

First up will be the Kakushigei tournament right.

Tenma:

Yeah.

I’ll show you the result of my training.

Director:

Yeah! I’m looking forward to seeing the Kakushigei tournament too.

Banri:

Director-chan, I’m going to surprise you with some amazing tricks.

Of course, the winner will be the red team.

Juza:

I won’t lose to you.

The white team will win.

Banri:

Stop with the bullshit.

There’s no way I’ll lose to the likes of you.

Juza:

Huh? What was that.

Banri:

You want to go.

Tsuzuru:

Calm down, it doesn’t matter who win or lose, it’s a Kakushigei performance!

<Shifts to Stage>

Priest:

Then, please enjoy the Kakushigei performance by members of MANKAI company!

Homare’s Doll:

“La la la, a happy bunny, a refreshing harmony! Behold, let’s have our tea time!”

Hisoka:

It’s just a cheap marshmallow…

Arisu is stingy.

Homare’s Doll:

“Hmm hmm, what did you say! Such a selfish  guy!”

Children:

Amazing! The doll is talking!

Male Audience:

Ventriloquism huh!

The voice is totally different, it really sounds like he’s talking to a doll…!

Juza:

…!

Tenma:

Phew! ... There!

Female Audience A:

Cigar box! So cool…!

Female Audience B:

Damn, the boxes look like that they’re attached to each other with a magnet!

Banri:

…

Male Audience:

Is he going to pull that tablecloth?

Female Audience:

Even though there’s a glass tower on top!?

Banri:

…!

Female Audience:

Amazing!! He pulled it so beautifully!

Male Audience:

That was wonderful!

Chikage:

Take a look at this card in my hand.

The folded card is… 1,2,3!

Female Audience A:

Eh!? It turned into a fan in an instant!?

Male Audience:

What!? It was just a normal card a second ago.

Chikage:

And when you look up on this fan…

Female Audience B:

Woah! The colorful confetti pop out of nowhere…!

Children:

It’s so beautiful~! Just like real magic!

Director:

(Both teams are amazing with their Kakushigei! The audiences’ cheers are so loud too)

Citron:

Unyuyuyu…

I have no other choice!

I must go quickly!

Muku:

Eh!

Sakuya:

Citron-san, it’s not your turn yet!

<Short Time Skip>

Director:

That was fun!

I was very impressed by everyone.

Azuma:

Yeah, me too. I got completely absorbed in it.

Tsuzuru:

Everyone practiced so hard before we even realized.

Female Audience A:

Red team or white team… Both are great, I can’t choose.

Female Audience B:

I know, everyone was so interesting!

Male Audience:

Alright, I’ve decided. I’m going with this!

Children:

I’m going to choose this one!

Tenma:

Everyone’s voting now.

Azuma:

Fufu, I wonder who will win… I’m quite excited.

Director:

I’m glad that the audiences are satisfied.

Next will be the dance performance…

<Short Time Skip>

Director:

…Eh?

Hisoka:

… It’s snowing.

Juza:

The snow starts falling.

Tenma:

Actually, isn’t it getting heavier?

Banri:

If it continues, it’s going to be a heavy snow soon.

Chikage:

What a splendid flag retrieval.

Tsuzuru:

This is not the time to say such thing.

Male Audience:

The snow is getting heavier.

I guess it’s time to go home soon.

Female Audience:

I wanted to watch the dance, is it going to be cancelled?

Hisoka:

Everyone’s going home.

Juza:

If it stays this way, it’s going to be cancelled for real.

Director:

(Even though everyone practiced so hard for this, I don’t want it to be cancelled. Beside, I want to be able to meet the priest’s expectation…)

It’s a bit early, but…

Let’s start earlier so everyone can see the dance!

Azuma:

You’re right.

Chikage:

Understood.

Banri:

Alright, let’s go.

<End of Chapter 8>

Translator’s Note: About the flag that Chikage mentioned. I’m sure it’s Itaru’s influence since it refers to a flag as in an otome game flag. I don’t know how to explain it nicely, but the broken snow bunny serves as an indication that heavy snow will fall like the legend (thus the flag), and it did happen during the performance (thus the flag retrieval). Do correct me if I’m wrong though~

[victoriareyloficlists]

4 February 2021 Additions to Reylo Holidays

These fics have been added to the Holiday list located here.

Christmas

Fight, Flight, or F____ by Blueyedgurl (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, 2 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey gets a dildo advent calendar for office secret santa. Ben is absolutely panicking, his chance with the cute girl is absolutely toast. Poe would be mad that Ben took the wrong wrapped gift from the counter this morning but he can always buy Finn a new one and this is hilarious.) The Sweater Curse in Reverse by Blueyedgurl (AO3 2020  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey and Ben are roommates. He stresses a bit when Rey starts acting strange, she gives him intense looks while she's crocheting at night and gives him lingering hugs when she comes home to dinner made. Ben fears the worst but soon finds out his roommate is up to something.) Sugar On My Tongue by allstoriesintheend (AO3 2020  Rated T Complete, 6 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: AU where Rey is a florist in a small town and Ben owns a bakery in the same town. They always work together for special occasions, especially weddings. Everyone in town knows they’re in love but them.) Home for the Holidays by LarirenShadow (AO3 2016  Rated T Complete, 5 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Kylo Ren, in a moment of weakness, tells his mother he'll be home for Christmas and will bring his girlfriend. Problem is he doesn't have one. Enter Rey, his grad assistant. He makes a deal with her so she'll be his girlfriend for the trip home.) Brand New Bag by DhampirsDrinkEspresso (AO3 2020  Rated M Complete, 3 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey doesn't get along with her co-worker Ben...a co-worker who is almost Rey's ideal man and also happens to be the son of her matchmaking boss. When Rey needs help with a children's Christmas party, Ben is sent to save the day-whether he and Rey like it or not.) christmas in the city. by pyroallerdyce (AO3 2020  Rated G Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben meets Rey in a grocery store, offers to give her a ride home, and they discover they live on the same floor in the same building. They find out they have other things in common too, and maybe there is a future between the two of them.) A Reylo Christmas by Biekewieke (AO3 2018  Rated E Complete, 8 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: So when Leia Organa asks her Personal Assistant Rey to join her on a family vacation in Mon Torri for the holidays and highlights a big bonus, what is she to do? Only catch... Leia's son is coming along... Ben Solo is the enfant terrible of the family. Broody, sullen and with a huge chip on his shoulder, the young man is notoriously difficult.) Let's Meet Under the Mistletoe by GreyForceUser (ReyandKyloforever) (AO3 2018  Rated E Complete, 7 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey Johnson and Ben Solo do not get along. Their first meeting was less than impressive. A change in circumstances forces Rey and Ben to work together to stage a huge black-tie Christmas party in a ridiculously short period of time. Only time will tell if they can stand each other long enough to pull it off or if the whole thing will crash and burn.) Silent Night by avidvampirehunter (AO3 2019  Rated M Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben Solo, one of the higher-ups at First Order Insurance, has spent roughly one year dreading the inevitable—falling for Rey Kenobi, one of his most mysterious and alluring employees. Little does he know that Rey herself has been fighting the same temptations, nor that she may be losing the will to even try. When he ends up drawing her name for the annual Secret Santa gift exchange, the merciless hand of fate pushes them together through the storm raging outside—and in their hearts.) Merry (Fuzzy) and Bright by JaneNightwork (AO3 2019  Rated M Complete, 25 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: One night Ben finds a dog abandoned on his doorstep. She's cold, scared, and pregnant. Ben takes her to a nearby vet clinic and meets the beautiful veterinarian Rey, who promises to help him be the best caregiver the dog and her puppies could ask for. Throughout the holiday season Ben and Rey fall in love with the puppies and, of course, each other.) daylight by sparklylulz (sparklyulz) (AO3 2020  Rated T Complete, 4 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Coffee shop employee Rey has a run in with one of the difficult professors. Thus starts a very turbulent friendship until Ben needs a fake date to go with him to see his parents, the first time he's seen his parents in a while.) The Trail Bride by SecretReyloTrash (BadOldWest) (AO3 2019  Rated E Complete, 47 Chapters, Historical AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey Niima finds herself in a perilous situation when her husband dies at the start of their journey West. From the few bachelors on the trail in her party; she attaches herself to the best of her options. That option is the mysterious Banker Ben Solo.) Something About November Chapter 18 by SpaceWaffleHouseTM (AO3 2019  Rated G Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: When Ben's adopted daughter finds a box of love letters he wrote and never sent, she decides she wants him happy for Christmas. With help from her Aunt Gwen, she sends her the letters.) The Fake Boyfriend Problem by INTPSlytherin_reylove97 (AO3 2018  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: When Rose accidently tells her parents her roommate Rey was bringing her boyfriend for Christmas, instead of telling them she was bringing her own boyfriend Finn, the girls run into an interesting problem.) How to Keep Christmas by JaneNightwork (AO3 2018  Rated M Complete, 26 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey and Ben have had feelings for each other since she began teaching at Chandrila Elementary School earlier that year, but neither knows their affection is mutual. Rey plans to use the the Christmas season––her favorite time of year––as an excuse to spend more time with Ben, and to find a way to tell him how she feels. But can she convince the Grinch-ish Ben to enjoy Christmas with her? Equally important: will her friends Finn, Poe, and Rose be able to stop themselves from matchmaking and meddling and general mischief?) Twas the night before Sithmas... by Hellyjellybean (AO3 2019  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben Solo is alone...and he likes it that way. What more does he need on Christmas eve? He has his whiskey and his bitterness to keep him warm. But Christmas magic can do wonderful things, and a visit from a mystical being throws Ben into a world very different from the one he knew. A world were he is married to the love of his life, he is close to his family and a little boy with dark eyes calls him Daddy. But is it all a dream? Or will Ben really get everything he has ever wanted this Christmas?) Blame it on the Mistletoe by deedreamer, HopelesslyReylo (AO3 2018  Rated E Complete, 5 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey Wilson doesn’t necessarily hate Christmas, it’s just that she’s never really enjoyed it. It’s too over the top, too full of the same repetitive music and consumerism. That’s not to say she doesn’t enjoy some things about the holiday... So when her new boss —and secret crush— Ben Solo catches her singing in her office, she lies to avoid looking like a grinch. Now she’s agreed to spend the holiday with him and his over-the-top Christmas fanatic family.) Crash my Bandicoot by KyloTrashForever (AO3 2019  Rated E Complete, 4 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben has lived next door to Rey for ten years now, and he’s been in love with her for most of them. A Christmas break with no one but themselves for company leaves a lot of time for Crash Bandicoot sessions... among other things.) Valentine’s Day

Love's Mystery by Hartmannclan (AO3 2020  Rated G Complete, 14 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben Solo only needs one lady in his life; his daughter, Hope. So he is surprised to find himself intrigued by the masked woman who just spilled a drink down the front of his costume. Maybe this year the company Valentine's day dance won't be so boring after all? And what happens when he has to leave suddenly.....) No Chance, No Way by AttackoftheDarkCurses (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, 7 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Just as Rey's decided to give up on love, she gets partnered to co-write Valentine's themed articles with the office grump, who... maybe isn't such a grump.) Valentine's Day by PropertyOfThaJoker (AO3 2018  Rated M Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: The cat immediately came to Rey, who immediately held it. “He can’t be more than five weeks old, Ben. He’s a baby. It’s cold out here – he’ll freeze to death. We have to take him home.”) How Much Can Kylo Ren Endure This Christmas by reylology (AO3 2017  Rated M Complete, 10 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: As the CEO of the number one commercial enterprise in New York City, Kylo Ren would think that bringing home a girl for his parents to meet should be the least of his concerns. But when a phone call with his mother takes an absurd, aggravating turn, he finds himself shoved headfirst into a lie. Desperate to prove his parents wrong, Kylo would do anything in order to see the shocked looks on their faces. Even if it means seeking help from the random girl that had just walked into his office for a job interview.) The Best Medicine by Cecilia1204 (AO3 2019  Rated M Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Being stuck in hospital for Christmas was enough to make Ben Solo feel really down in the dumps. That is, until he meets two angels in the form of Rey and her amazing cat.) Halloween

Closet Encounters Of The Thirsty Kind by ReyloBrit (AO3 2019  Rated E Complete, 2 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey dislikes Ben. Ben dislikes Rey. Funny, then, that people keep thinking they've come to this party together, and unfortunate that when cops raid the party, there's only one place to hide. And it's such a cramped and confined place too.) Anything to Win by Erulisse17 (AO3 2018  Rated T Complete, 2 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey hates losing. She hates losing almost more than she loves winning. Which is why she's in the ridiculous position of asking Kylo Ren, the very person who keeps beating her at the singles costume contest, to team up with her to dominate the couples contest and trounce Phasma and Hux once and for all. Working with Kylo is a necessary evil, but really, she'd do anything to win. Anything! Unless... it's falling in love.) Thanksgiving

Trouble for Thanksgiving by Biekewieke (AO3 2019  Rated E Complete, 40 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey Kenobi's temporary work visa is about to expire. She needs her boss' signature on her renewal application to get the extension she desperately wants and needs. Only her boss, the infamous Ben Solo, is an asshole. He's notoriously difficult and she knows this firsthand. Nevertheless, she needs his signature on those papers if she wants to avoid being deported by the end of the year... So when Rey tells her about her looming deportation, he finds a way to bend the situation to suit his own needs. Except, for the first time in his adult life, things don't go exactly as planned when he takes her home for the holidays...) I Wanna Hold Your Hand by SageMcMae (AO3 2019  Rated M Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: To escape Thanksgiving dinner with his mother, author Ben Solo travels to Verona, and hides away in his publisher’s villa. While wandering the city, he discovers Casa di Giulietta and the statue contained within. Some believe touching her will bring you luck in love. Others believe that when her soulmate touches her, she will come to life. Ben doesn’t believe in any of it. Until an accidental brush of his hand results in an empty statue podium and him catching a very confused, very irritated woman in his arms.)

[ofxwordsxandxletters]

Safe and Sound & Myself When I am with You

Series: The Witcher

Disclaimer: The plot and pairing are mine and the rest is borrowed in this work of fan-made fiction off of which no money is made. 

Pairing: Eskel/Geralt

Rating: PG 

Another winter comes and another return is made. Home is a cure for most ills...As Geralt and Eskel learn along the way...

Author’s Note: For the Witchering Secret Santa, I got @geraltstiddyarmor​ and since Eskel and Geralt shenanigans appealed to them, these two ficlets were written. Hope you like it and happy holidays, friend! I wanted to go with some angsty/fluff (More fluff than other) and touched upon two hard moments in both these boys’ lives and how they may have helped the other heal.  Thank you, @thewitchersecretsanta​​ for this fantastic opportunity!!!

*~*~*~*

Safe and Sound (Geralt-centric)

The way in had once been a dangerous trek capable of ending one’s life. Too many repetitions and Geralt is almost positive he could make his way through blind-folded. He wouldn’t try this, however, he wasn’t that foolish at least not anymore. Mayhaps one time youth would have made it something of a challenge or at least someone would have made it a challenge. Vesemir no doubt would have been the one to dissuade them of such nonsense. 

But he had long since grown from a pup and such competitions were few and far between. Though the familiar sight is enough to have that familiar ache in his chest begin. He’d missed this place. Missed the familiarity of the Wolves he called family. Above all else, he missed Eskel.

Eskel. The mere thought of his name is enough to curve the edges up his lips upwards. From the beginning Eskel had been a constant; protective, supportive, and maybe a little indulgent in his mischief-making. But he’d always been safe with him. And Geralt didn’t question how much he enjoyed the others' sheer presence. They were inseparable from almost their first meeting. 

And it hadn’t taken long for them to wind up limbs tangled together in the same bed. They fit like matching puzzle pieces and it was always just right. Given the rarity of things going so well, Geralt never took for granted or wasted a moment when it came to being able to spend time with the other Witcher. And the other wolves found this amusing and very much approved. And here at Kaer Morhen he was safe and at home. 

Whatever his wanderings, whatever happened on the Path, when he was with his family it was easier to let go of the grief, of the resentment, of everything awful and enjoy the company of those who understood not just being a Witcher but who he was at the core of him. That was something he’d sorely needed the first winter after receiving the moniker of the Butcher. He could recall the shame that had been coiled tightly in him as he’d approached fearing that this might be what lost him the most important people to him. 

These thoughts had him later than normal so it shouldn’t have been unusual for them to seemingly be waiting but his anxious heart was sure this was the dismissal he was fearing. When he’s close enough Vesemir had gently taken Roach’s reins as  he’d dismounted and Lambert easily takes his bags. Neither says something and he’s a little unsure. This leaves him alone with Eskel. His lips part and he’s not sure if it’s to murmur a plea or an apology and gets nothing out as he’s pulled tightly against the other. “It’s good to have you home,” comes the greeting that has him gripping him tightly. 

“I...wasn’t sure I was welcome.” The words are hard, shameful that he could think so low of the people who had seen him become who he was. Warm fingers tilt his head up. 

“Don’t you ever think for a moment, Geralt, that we would ever listen to the words of people who do not know you. We know you. We’ve always known you. And above all else, trust that I know your heart. You’re not a monster and you are certainly not a butcher. So put it far from you. None of that here. We’re pack, we’re family, and we all love you. I, especially, love you.” 

And that winter he’d found the balm he needed for those wounds. Geralt reconciled who he was to those who loved him as opposed to who he seemed to be in the eyes of those who did not care to know the truth of him or his heart. 

*~*~*~*~*

Myself When I am with You (Eskel-centric)

‘Ugly’

‘Deformed’

‘Monster’

These become his norm and Eskel loses himself in how it makes him feel. Being a Witcher was hard enough; people already mistrusted him but being a Witcher and scarred? There was no hope or help for it. And it hurts worse than any poison he’d encountered; twisting, burning, and leaving him raw and emotionally bleeding. He hates how unkind people can be and sometimes, he hates more that he agrees to help and protect such ungrateful, hurtful creatures. They could be worse than the monsters they wanted put down. 

So of course the hurt and anger follows to that first Winter at Kaer Morhen. He wants to be alone, fears that this will be how the rest of his time is. And it might have worked if not for the stubbornness of a certain Witcher. While Vesemir allowed him his space, Geralt was not so willing to do as told. In fact, he marches himself into his room throwing the door shut before declaring Eskel the Continent’s Most Ridiculous Dumbass. At any other time, he might be amused. Right now, however, he wants Geralt gone so he can continue his solitude. So that he doesn’t have to see how Geralt specifically feels about him now. 

“I don’t remember allowing you in here,” he says by way of dismissal. 

“No,” Geralt agrees, “You have pretty much banned everyone.” 

His voice is calm, almost agreeable but Eskel makes the mistake of gazing at familiar golden eyes and sees the warning of a storm in them. “Then I do not know why…” 

“Of course you know why!” The words are sharper now, the other Witcher’s teeth bared, “You cannot possibly be this much of an idiot. Not you.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed or not…” 

“Let me stop you right there,” Geralt interrupts, “Of course we’ve noticed. It’s hard not to. But what you’ve forgotten is I don’t care. Scars come with our lives, our mission. Scars tell the world that we’re stronger, fiercer, more enduring than anything we’ve come up against. What you do not need to ever believe is that it makes you lesser. It doesn’t. It never will.” 

“Geralt…” 

“No!” comes the sharp rebuke, “You can wallow in whatever this is but you do not get to tell me how I am supposed to feel about it. You do not get to decide what I can and cannot love about you! That’s not how this works!” 

And worse than his anger, is Geralt’s hurt. Eskel hates the look of grief mixed in. “I love you,” comes the hoarse admission they both knew without ever having to say it, “I love you for who you are. And that can’t be changed. It won’t be changed so don’t you hide from me. Please, Eskel.”

Geralt was vulnerable with him, always had been. And in return, Eskel showed the parts of himself no one else got to see as well. Slowly, he approaches the other stepping from the dark corner waiting for that final nail, for Geralt to fully see what had become of him and for him to leave. He wouldn’t blame him. In fact…

His musing is derailed by a light pressure that has him focusing on the other and realizing it was Geralt’s fingers touching the now scarred side of his face. A light brush of familiar digits and he can’t help leaning into it. “You will never lose me,” the other murmurs, “No matter what. We’re bound together,  you and I,  and that’s not something I ever want to change.”

“Are you sure?” 

Geralt draws him close so he can rest his forehead against his before murmuring, “I am positive. You are mine. For as long as I can have you.”

[detectivedreameater]

Home For The Holidays || Erin and Marley

TIMING: Christmas Day PARTIES: @corpse--diem and @detectivedreameater SUMMARY: Erin and Marley celebrate Christmas together for the first time, and some things come to light. CONTENT: Alcohol, Kissing/Touching, Domestic Abuse mention

Over the past few weeks, Erin had been checking in on Marley regularly-- and she’d helped her get a scheduling journal set up, which meant Marley’s pile of sticky notes had been reduced to only one corner of the room. Although there were still a few random ones placed around, like over JD’s food bowl, in the bathroom, and in her bedroom, the place was much less of a mess of them now. And it was working fairly well. She hadn’t had another seizure or episode in almost a week, and that had to be improvement, right? It had to be. And that meant that things were going relatively well, she’d even been able to convince work to let her at least start working on cases on paper. Field work would be assessed later, but she didn't let herself think about that just yet, and how her...condition might affect that. She was trying that whole ‘“looking on the bright side” thing. Might as well give it a shot, right? She had nothing left to lose anymore. Well, except Erin. 

Today was their scheduled weekly organizing day, where Erin would come over to help Marley plan out her week and set reminders. It was also Christmas. It was...oddly sweet that she wanted to do this for Marley, and Marley was still trying to get used to the idea of letting someone help take care of her. It felt almost sad having to depend so much on one person, but after their fight, the realization that she needed this or she was going to spiral was one she couldn’t ignore any longer. She’d pushed away almost everyone in her life, and things kept reminding her of what the world wanted her to believe she was-- a monster. But she wanted to be better. And ignoring her condition would only end in one way, and even if it still pained Marley to admit it, she didn’t want that. She’d survived Roy’s attack for a reason, and she wasn’t going to throw away this chance again. Even if she still felt like half a person, losing blocks of time and bits of herself. One thing at a time, she reminded herself. One thing at a time. Today, she would concentrate on Erin. From her office, she heard the jingle of the keys and the door open and she leaned back, looking towards the entryway. “In here!” she called out, flipping the case she’d been working on closed. Today, she would try and give herself a break.

This wasn’t the way Erin expected to spend her Christmas. She wasn’t complaining, of course. There’d been far too many points this year that made her doubt getting this far. Being here, being alive only made the desire to squeeze as much goodness as she could out of today. Couldn’t get worse than last year. Alone, fresh from burying her father with a refrigerator full of organs in the basement. Bags hung from each arm as she trudged up to Marley’s front door and let herself in. Didn’t think about how normal that was now that she was here at least a few times a week. It was her new normal as much as Marley’s. She didn’t mind it. Building that trust back up was a slow roll, and Marley was expectantly impatient and angry during these organization sessions. This was hard. For both of them. They were both mending and learning all at once but real progress was being made. 

“Hey, Merry Christmas!” Her voice rang out into the apartment as she kicked the door shut behind her. JD scurried somewhere, the little thumps of his feet padding along the floor. Apparently he wasn’t ready to say hello just yet. The feeling was mutual. She dumped the bags gently onto the kitchen counters before moseying over towards the office and greeted her with a bright smile. “After we’re done getting you squared away, I brought along some goodies. Hope you didn’t make any other plans for today because I’m not going anywhere,” she teased gently, pulling off the thick winter peacoat on her back. “How’re you feeling today?”

“Same as everyday, Pinky,” Marley answered back dryly. “Er-- yea. Happy-- Jesus birthday or whatever.” She didn’t really celebrate this holiday, but it wasn’t for lack of trying. The first few foster homes she’d been in had tried-- but getting a gift for ten plus children was hard, and Marley wasn’t a fan of hand-me-down barbie dolls. Except to pull their heads off of and color on them with red paint. Sometimes she’d leave them around the house for the other kids to find, and laugh when they screamed. So most homes had stopped gifting her anything, because what else generic did you get a young girl? She looked back over at Erin. “What else would I be doing, anyway? Oh, right-- drinking at bars alone. Yeah, sounds great on a day like this.” Rolled her eyes, but it was playful, as were her words. She peered curiously at the bags on the counter. “What’d you bring?” she asked, already standing to head over to them. “No, we can do that later. Let’s do this first.” Maybe this time Erin would fall for it and she could get away with not having to think about how shitty she felt every day, and how, after she’d started writing everything down, her black outs could no longer be ignored.

“I don’t know but that sounds depressing any day,” Erin remarked, raising a brow in her direction, more concern than judgment in her voice. Just wasn’t a way she enjoyed picturing someone she cared about. “Hey, no peeking!” she hopped after her, covering the tops of them with her hands. “After we do what we need to do, you can see,” she said with the exaggerated conviction of a mother scolding her child for wanting a snack before dinner. It wasn’t like this was her favorite thing to do either but it was a necessity not even Christmas could stop. A reliable routine mattered more than ever. She grabbed her journal from her bag with one hand and Marley’s hand in the other, tugging her to the kitchen table. “C’mon, c’mon, let’s get it over with,” she smirked. Left Marley and the notebook at the table and started plucking down post-it notes, focusing on the ones that had less to do with daily reminders and more on the things that needed immediate attention. “I know it’s tedious and annoying, but it’s important. You know?” She paused briefly, glancing up from the neon papers in her hand. “Do you feel like this is helping? She asked, genuinely curious. It seemed like it was, and getting organized was never a bad thing, but it meant more than that in Marley’s case. 

“Well, considering I mostly did that to cruise, it’s not as bad as it sounds,” Marley pointed out. But she hadn’t done that in a long time now. Because she’d had Anita, and even when she’d ruined that, she had Lydia. And then after that...she had Erin. Maybe not in the same ways as Anita and Lydia, but Erin was the last person standing in her life. And her company, though reluctantly accepted at first, was welcomed now. It was...nice. Marley frowned playfully. “But mooooom,” she whined, rolling her eyes. Trudged back to the office and sat back down, opening up the notebook. “Unfortunately,” she grumbled, scribbling in the corner, “it helps a lot. Maybe too much. Not sure I like knowing how much of my day I actually lose.” She flicked one of the sticky notes-- the one with all her timestamps on it-- and glanced over at Erin. “Who knew brain damage was so serious, right?” she joked, even if her face remained stark. She wasn’t sure if they were okay enough to joke about this sort of thing yet-- but Marley didn’t really care. It was her injury, she could joke about it if she wanted to. “But, uh-- seriously. It helps.” She shrugged. “Now hurry up and finish, I wanna drink this really expensive tequila one of my colleagues sent me.”

“Cruise?” Erin started to ask before it dawned on her. “Ah. Right. Gotcha. Knowing who you are as a person, that makes more sense,” she teased. Wasn’t how Erin handled that kind of thing but she was the last one to judge someone else for it. Sometimes it struck her how different they were for how close they’d become over the last six months. There were probably more differences than similarities, if she was being honest. Turns out a deep need for revenge and enduring traumatic, violent attacks could be a pretty decent bonding agent though. Worked well enough for them, anyway. But it was a relief to know that this was helping. That the hours and hours they were putting in here were amounting to something tangible. “Good,” was all she said, not trying to put Marley too much on the spot and scare her away. Stood beside her as she moved back to the table, absently running her finger along her shoulder as she read through the notes. “Hey,” she said, stiffening a bit. “What’s--uh, this one about?” She asked, dropping one in front of her. “Call foster home about birth certificate.” She dropped the note in front of Marley and sat down beside her, shuffling through the others, not thinking too much about her question. “Is that a work thing, or…?” The other implication of her question dawned on her and her eyes jumped up to Marley’s. “Is that a you thing?”

Marley thought very little about Erin’s close proximity to her, or her hand on her shoulder, as she watched her shuffle through the notes Marley had left around for her to organize. It almost felt relaxing, even if in the back of her mind, Marley still felt that strange prickle of anger inside of her chest. When Erin spoke up again, she stopped scribbling in the journal and looked down at the note she had set down in front of her. It was Marley’s turn to stiffen. She’d forgotten about that note-- which was entirely the point of these sessions, but that didn’t matter in the end-- until this moment, and something clicked in her head about how she meant to throw that one away. She picked it up off the desk and crumpled it, dumping it in the trash under the table. “It’s an irrelevant thing now,” she murmured, understanding that her response alone gave Erin the answer even if her words did not. “There’s no point in getting it anymore.” 

Erin narrowed her eyes at the abruptness in which Marley crumpled up the note, tossed it aside like the contents meant nothing. If there was anything she’d learned it was that Marley spoke more with her actions than her words, especially when it came to this sort of thing. “Oh-kay,” she answered, seemingly moving on with the organizational process. “Guess that means you’re not going to answer my question?” She asked, jotting down a note for Marley’s calendar for later in the week. Without looking at her, she tilted her head, discarding another note, raising an eyebrow. “Or maybe you did.” Marley didn’t talk about her parents often--or ever, really--but it made sense why, if that note held any truth for Marley. 

Marley watched Erin closely for a moment, as she jotted something down on the calendar. Realizing too late that it was the note she’d just crumpled. She clenched her jaw a little, but knew that even if Erin acted like she was going to drop it, she never really would. And hadn’t Marley decided to stop being so closed off? At least with Erin. She had to try somewhere, right? Rubbing her eyes again, she let out a heavy, audible sigh. “It’s complicated,” she mumbled and remembered how much Anita hated that word and felt her stomach burn. “I just mean-- yes, it’s about me. I was looking into some stuff before things got...really bad.” Because she felt some strange sort of compulsion for it, and the more she thought about it, the more she wanted to know. “I was looking into tracking down my birth parents.”

Ah, there it was. The sound of caving. Erin knew she’d earn that eventually but it came quicker than she anticipated. Maybe Marley was finally coming around, opening up to her in ways she was reluctant to before. Maybe, just maybe, their talk from a few weeks prior had paved the way for more progress than she’d realized. “Oh. I didn’t realize,” she started, and felt silly the moment she said it. Of course she didn’t know, both that she was looking and that this was something that Marley needed to do at all. “Why is it irrelevant now? Do you... not want to know anymore?” She asked, fussing with the post it notes. There wasn’t much more to the task at hand, and the rest of the post-it notes were categorized, but she kept her hands busy writing excessive notes and pretending to sort through them again. She had her full attention but staring at Marley while asking her such a personal question didn’t feel like that was the way to go here. 

“Well, it’s not like I talk about it much,” Marley admitted quietly. Or at all. She never shared these parts of herself, they were dark and painful and cold, so she hid them away. With sealed records and compartmentalized memories, she kept them behind locked doors in her mind and in real life. But she was growing weary of them, and whatever was melting its way through her barricades was also telling her it was okay to let someone in. And of all the people to let in, Erin was the least dangerous. And probably the most worthy of it. “I wanted to know why they gave me up,” she answered quietly, her voice fragile in a way it never really had been before. Small and tempered, as if she were afraid. “But it doesn’t matter anymore, if it’s not going to change anything.” It doesn’t matter anymore if she couldn’t even stay inside her own brain enough to be herself.

Erin slowed down her movements, watching Marley cautiously as she explained herself. It was brief, to the point, like it typically was with Marley, but she’d learned to read a little between the lines at this point. She didn’t need to be able to read her to recognize how difficult this was for her to admit, though. This would be hard for anyone. She reached over, placing her hand on top of hers gently. “It won’t. You’re still you, no matter what they say, you know. If you were ever to find out why, I mean. You’re pretty badass, you know--that’s not something they can take away from you no matter what.” She offered a small smile, wishing she knew the best way to navigate this. “But… if you wanted to do that, to look them up, you’ve got my support and you know I’d be glad to help. But you also don’t have to. It’s entirely up to you, Marley.”

The hand placed on top of Marley’s almost made her jump-- it was a gentle action that she was woefully unused to. Her eyes went up to meet Erin’s, finding something in them that she hadn’t really known she was searching for-- validation. A gentleness around the subject, as if she knew the fragileness of it. And of course she did. Erin knew Marley better than anyone else, even Anita. She stiffened and swallowed at the thought, looking away. “I feel like I have to know,” she finally admitted quietly, “because right now, I don’t know anything. I don’t know who I am anymore, or who I want to be, and if I could know why they gave me up-- why they let me get passed around foster home after foster home-- maybe I could understand why things turned out the way they did.” She pulled her hand away so she could fold her arms across her chest, a subconscious way to protect herself. “But I guess just like everything else, I don’t know what I want anymore.” 

Erin nodded slowly as listened, absorbing as much of this new information about Marley as she could while still trying to be helpful. If not helpful then just a sounding board, someone for Marley to express her thoughts and fears with. “You deserve those answers. You do. If they’re there. They might not, either, you know? It’s not a fun option but it's a real one.” She bit her lip, watching her withdraw. “It’s not something you have to make a decision about right now, either. You have time. God knows you’ve got so much on your plate as it is so… maybe when you’re ready and you’re able, you still have that time.” When Marley pulled away from her, she reached for the past of post-it notes and rewrote it, sticking it back onto the space where they were usually cluttered. “There,” she nodded, glancing back, a small encouraging smile on her lips. “Doesn’t need to be on the calendar just yet. But we won’t forget about it. How’s that?”

Marley's immediate reaction was to protest. No, this was stupid. No, she was stupid for wanting to do that. For wanting to know about them. They had given her up for a reason-- because they didn’t want her. Why would looking for them, why would trying to find them, make that any different? Why did Marley want so much for that to not be the reason? Too many what ifs clouded her thoughts and she watched silently as Erin stuck the note back on the board. She swallowed thickly. “Okay,” was all she said, looking away again and to the calendar they’d filled out. She unfurled her arms slowly, closing it. “Can we go drink now?” she asked, trying to move her voice from the shaky mutter it had been before to her more usual drone. 

The hesitation in Marley’s eyes only confirmed how uncertain she felt about the whole thing. Just because someone wanted something didn’t mean they were ready for it, in whatever capacity that entailed. There was still so much healing she had to do still and Erin was thankful she wasn’t immediately jumping into this. It was still there on the table though--or the board, more accurately. It wouldn’t be forgotten. When she was ready, they could go back to it. She let out a soft laugh and nodded. “Yes, please,” she said, giving Marley’s shoulder a quick squeeze as she moved passed her. “How about you get the good stuff and I’ll get your surprise?” She raised her eyebrows cheekily, trying to reinsert some excitement back into the room. Even if she felt a pang of nervousness when she grabbed the bag with her gift inside. It was probably stupid and definitely overly sentimental, and she was already preparing for the relentless teasing she was bound to get. With a heave, she set the bag on the table with a clunk. “I didn’t know how to wrap it so--here you go.”

Marley was extremely thankful for the change of mood as Erin gave her that look. She smirked under the weariness and felt herself re-energizing already, leaping up from the chair and following her out back into the living room. “One bottle of extra fancy tequila, coming up!” she said, grabbing two of her more fancy tumblers, the bottle that that one co-worker had felt obliged to give her, and some salt and limes. Doctor Lin-King had strongly advised against heavy drinking, but it was holiday, and that meant rules didn’t apply, right? She wasn’t sure, she’d never really celebrated before. The clunk on the table startled her ever so and she looked at the bag Erin presented her with, slowly setting the glasses and bottle down. “What is it?” she asked, cautiously skeptic. She raised a brow, as if trying to peer into the bag, but not moving to open it yet. “Wrap it? You mean like--” A gift. Or present, rather. Erin had gotten her a Christmas present. Marley felt her throat suddenly tightening. “Oh,” was all she said, still not moving to open it.

Erin was busy eyeing the tequila bottle, lifting it to inspect how fancy Marley kept insisting it was. “I’ve never heard of it so it must be fancy,” she chuckled, sitting on the top of the table and popped open the top of the bottle. “Oh, that’s fancy. It might be too fancy for either one of us.” She grinned over at her, watching her tentatively poke at the present but not quite opening it. Clearing her throat, she started to pour into the tumblers Marley brought out, watching her out of the corner of her eye. “Yeah. A gift. Because it’s Christmas, dummy,” she teased her before handing her the other glass. Put her hand on top of the bag to stop her from opening it just yet. Held her glass up towards Marley, her smile softening into something more genuine and a little shy. “So, before you open it--Merry Christmas, Marley,” she nodded once, pausing. “There’s no other scrooge out there I’d rather be spending it with.”

Marley kept her eyes on the bag, even as Erin spoke. She only looked up when Erin put her hand on the bag and held the glass out to her. She took it but simply held it in front of her, still confused, visibly, by the action. She met Erin’s eyes, feeling a strange burning in her chest. It rose into her throat and her cheeks then her eyes and suddenly she was blinking and looking away. “Sorry, I don’t--” she wiped her face on her sleeve, shaking her head, “no one’s ever--” she looked at the gift on the table and wondered if context clues were enough, because the words wouldn’t come. She cleared her throat and readjusted herself, shaking off the strange feeling and raising her glass to meet Erin’s. “Merry-- yeah, Merry Christmas, Erin,” she said quietly, feeling an unstoppable smile twitch on to her face. She smothered it quickly by drowning it in tequila, grabbing a lime and biting into it, before holding one out for Erin. “If Im Scrooge, what’s that make you?” she asked once they were done.

It took more than a few moments for Erin to get it but once she did, her narrowed eyes grew wide and she could feel herself soften even further at the sight of Marley’s composure wavering. More than anyone, even the glimpse of Marley’s tears always got her hard and tight in the chest. Maybe she was biased but she felt like she had a pretty good grasp on Marley, on her heart, and it always ached when she got less than she deserved. “You’re okay,” she assured her quietly, trying to stop her voice from cracking, gripping the top of the table tight enough for her knuckles to whiten. More nervous now about the contents of her present than she was before. She tossed the drink back, thankful it went down smooth--it was really good tequila--and started to pour another as she chewed on the lime in her mouth. Laughed softly, shaking her head. “Hell if I know. Maybe the Ghost of Christmas Future. They always had that cool death thing going on. And a cool outfit.” She smiled up at her, nervously glancing at the present, then back to Marley, and then back down to her new cup. “Will you open it already?” She teased, nodding towards the bag. 

“Admittedly,” Marley said with a shrug, “I’ve never actually seen that. Or read it?” She wasn’t even sure what type of media it actually was. It was probably all of them, knowing Christmas culture. And saying that she’d never gotten a present wasn’t entirely true-- the group home had Christmas morning parties, in which each kid got to pick one thing from a table of wrapped gifts, but it wasn’t the same. No one had ever taken the time to pick something out for Marley and wrap and it bring it to her. Maybe her adopted parents had at one point, but she couldn’t remember them, and they’d given her back before she’d had a chance to. Shaking away those stupid memories as well, Marley finally moved to open the gift, finding her hands shaky at best. She set the glass down and slid it towards Erin, a quiet gesture for her to refill it, and prodded the bag open. Inside sat a cool, marble box like object. Marley instantly recognized it as an urn. Confused, she pulled it out and set it on the table, looking up at Erin as if the answer were on her face. 

But inside it, she found the answer. The lid was solid but not heavy and she set it gently aside, reaching in to pull out the first object-- an actual real life, goddamn photograph of her and Erin. She didn’t remember when it had been taken, exactly, but they were smiling, and the flash of the camera was reflecting off Marley’s glasses just enough to barely cover the smirk on her lips. And Erin was the one holding the camera, of course, flashing a bright smile. Marley set it aside when she noticed there was more in the box, but the picture still stuck in her mind-- she couldn’t really recall a time she’d been happier than that one. 

Underneath the photo was an old certificate. It was the winner’s certificate they’d gotten from beating the Escape Room first, gold stamp and fake signature and all. Marley had let Erin keep it as her trophy, seeing as, at the time, Marley hadn’t really cared to keep mementos from or for anything. Now, she wished she had. She set that aside, too, still not having said a word. Because the next thing inside made her laugh out loud. A roll of duct tape next to a DVD of A Nightmare On Elm Street. And next to that, a bottle of Johnny Walker. She couldn’t even reach in and pull it out because she was laughing and crying and she found herself so caught between the two emotions, she didn’t even know what to say.

Erin watched quietly as Marley finally started to open the bag, unable to stop the nervousness biting at her bones. She hid a half smile behind another big sip of the tequila, watching carefully. “It’s--that’s an urn. A real one. I figured even if you didn’t like the rest of the present, I know you’re morbid enough to enjoy a bonafide urn to put on display in your house.” It was one of the many qualities she loved about Marley. She could talk about the weird, creepy things she did on a daily basis and she could keep up better than most people she knew. Her confidence continued to waver in large leaps as she watched Marley unfold the contents within, unsure if it was the tequila anymore that was making her cheeks flush. She was so silent it made her stomach turn and she was chuckling quietly like an idiot, covering her mouth with her hand. She wasn’t rolling her eyes or giving her that Marley certified look, so maybe she hadn’t fucked up entirely? 

“I just thought--well, the note says what I thought. But you know, after everything this year and… everything you’re going through right now, I just thought--” she cleared her throat, holding the glass on her lap, running her thumb against the side. “I wanted something to remind you that despite everything, all the shit we went through and all the stuff we’re still trying to sort through--there is good stuff.” She smiled sheepishly, shaking her head. Her heart pounded so loud she swore Marley could hear it above her laughing. “And if you thought all of that was stupid, you’ve still got your precious Johnny in there to make up for all of it.”

Marley didn’t need to read the note to know what Erin meant. She was still smiling, uncontrollably, her breath coming up as little huffs as she tried to stop the laughter in her throat. She wiped at her eyes again and looked at Erin and suddenly, so suddenly, the feeling in her chest made sense. And with the realization, warmth blossomed throughout her entire body and she knew, without a doubt, that this was happiness. Pure, unadulterated happiness. And the only other time she’d ever felt this way was with Anita, and she didn’t want to think about that right now. She wanted to live in this moment, this moment where she could be happy and pretend like she hadn’t ruined all the good things in her life, and she could pretend she didn’t have a lifelong injury, and she could pretend like tomorrow would be as good as this day. “It’s perfect,” she finally said, moving around the table closer to Erin. “All of it, I can’t even--” she glanced back at it, then to Erin-- “I didn’t get you anything.” And this close to Erin, she could see the flush on her cheeks, and the way her eyes had that little sparkle to them, and the weary lines around her eyes that seemed almost permanent now. And she could hear her own heartbeat in her ears, as she reached out and took Erin’s face between her hands and kissed her. 

Marley’s smile was more comforting than she’d ever know. It was downright infectious, actually, and Erin’s lips twitched upward in a grin that nearly matched the one beaming at her. She did good. That’s what Marley’s smile told her more than anything. She liked it, sentiment and sappy as it was. The relief that came with that was unparalleled and she had to blink a few times realizing that Marley was talking. Right. Words. “No, don’t worry about it,” she started, theat drumming in her chest quickening in tempo as Marley drew closer. She looked happy. Really, truly happy--happier than she’d seen her in so, so long. It was hard to not let it affect her, to fall headfirst into that feeling. When was the last time she’d felt that herself? To feel something other than the rage or the coldness the dark had brought for as long as she could remember. Marley’s lips against hers were unexpected but they were warm and despite her brain screaming distantly in the background, they were welcome against her own. Maybe something had clicked, maybe some deeply buried flood of emotions were loosening themselves into the night, maybe she didn’t know what the fuck she was doing at all--but she couldn’t stop herself from kissing her back. She just knew right now she felt good, just like how Marley felt good. And safe. She felt herself let go just a little bit more as she wrapped her arms around her waist and deepened the kiss, pulling her in against her. 

Marley moved mostly off of instinct, and feeling. Something like this was natural to her. And somehow it felt more natural, knowing it was Erin. She tasted like tequila and a hint of lime and Marley wondered what in the world had made her want to do this. Maybe it was the idea of being so happy she couldn’t think straight, or maybe that was the tequila. Or maybe she just craved the feeling of being touched, of being wanted. Maybe this had been something that had been building between them for longer than either of them really knew. And maybe other people and past feelings didn’t matter right now. It was a holiday, after all, they should get to enjoy themselves, right? Merry goddamn Christmas was right. She let Erin pull her closer, kissing her harder, desperate and hungry, as she was wont to do. She couldn’t actually remember the last time she’d been held like this-- she knew it was with Anita, but the memory was only a flicker. At the thought, she pulled away, using the moment to take a breather, chest already heaving. “I--” she started, but found she didn’t know exactly what to say, “is this…” she swallowed, looked into Erin’s eyes, “okay?” Another smile twitched on her lips. “It was all I could think of in the moment..” she tacked on, grinning.

Erin would be a damn liar if she hadn’t thought about this before. Passively, quickly, and onto the next thought--but she’d thought about it nonetheless. There’d always been something that had drawn her to Marley from the very beginning, she was attractive, and there was no one who knew her quite like Marley did. There were two very good reasons why this hadn’t happened before, and she closed her eyes when Marley pulled away, trying not to think of either one of them. Two things neither of them had anymore and it was  hard not to feel them in a big way right now, even if all she wanted to think about was Marley’s lips. “It’s okay,” she nodded, opening her eyes to find Marley’s bright grin. This was fine. That gnawing, low down fear in her stomach was just nerves. This was fine. She wouldn’t be smiling at her like that if this wasn’t okay. She trusted her, trusted that smile, even if she didn’t totally trust herself. “I mean, it’s good. Really good. Not just okay,” she chuckled, her hand still gripping her waist firmly. When she’d caught her breath, she lifted one hand to the nape of her neck and pulled her lips back down to hers, a little more desperate than before. This was good, it was fine--they both wanted this, wanted to forget, to feel something for a little while. Erin was more than happy to indulge for a little while longer. 

Good. This was good. Erin said it was good. Marley nodded once before she was folding back into her, ready to let everything else slip away from her, from them. Leave behind all the shit they’d been through and the people they’d hurt or lost or pushed away. Because this was easy, it had always been easy for Marley. To lose herself, to forget, to let go. To focus on just the physical feeling and not the despair or the loneliness or the pain that would otherwise fill that space. It’s what she’d done for years and thought she would do until the day she died. And the idea-- the thought-- that she could have something more, felt as if it were suffocating now. The idea that she could have had more, but let it slip through her fingers. The idea that she was afraid of having more because it meant opening herself in a way she’d never been open before. Because having more meant feeling someone else’s hurt. And she wanted to forget all of that, leave that all behind. Because right here, and right now, she had enough. She had Erin. She had the feeling, the thought, somewhere in the back of her mind, that maybe this had been inevitable. Maybe she’d always wanted to do this. Maybe she just wanted to feel something real again. She moved in closer, still kissing Erin, deeper, harder, wanting to fall into the taste and the feel. Her hands moved lower, pressed against the table behind Erin for a moment, before she found them grabbing at the bottom of Erin’s shirt, fingers ghosting underneath. What she would give to feel this again. What she would give to let herself believe this feeling. If only it were that easy. 

Something changed the moment Erin felt Marley’s hands drifting below her shirt. The touch startled her out of whatever haze she’d fallen into, knocking some sense into her. It was that panic, that fear that had been slowly dredging up from the pit of her stomach since Marley had first pulled her in and kissed her. “Marley, wait--stop,” she breathed, rearing back. Her hand covered her lips and she inched away from the table, away from Marley. Her chest heaved for breath and her mind raced as the panic surged in her. What the fuck where they doing? This wasn’t right. It felt good but everything in her mind suddenly woke up and was screaming at her, reminding her that this wasn’t right. “I can’t--we can’t,” she finally looked up, trying to find Marley’s eyes, slowly shaking her head. “You’re my best friend, Marley. And I don’t want to lose--we just--we can’t.”

The action startled Marley enough that she stumbled when Erin pushed her and stared, bewildered. Did she-- not like it? Hadn’t Marley just asked if it was okay? Had she done something wrong? It felt like stones had dumped into her stomach and she felt suddenly sick. “Why does that matter?” she asked, blinking. Her brows knit together as she tried to understand what Erin meant. Why couldn’t they? It was just kissing and maybe sex. It wasn’t like it was anything they hadn’t thought about. It wasn’t like it had to mean anything. Marley’s cheeks burned with embarrassment and she turned away, wiping a hand across her face. “It’s not like-- it doesn’t have to mean anything,” she said, still bewildered, still unsure why erin was making that face or why she looked as if Marley had just slapped her. “I don’t-- see why it matters.”

Erin’s eyes burned at Marley’s reaction. She felt as embarrassed as much as she did but it was what she said that hurt in a way she didn’t expect. It doesn’t have to mean anything. “It does. It means something. Maybe not to you--maybe you can just… turn that off, but I can’t. I care about you and I just--I can’t.” Didn’t Marley understand that? This wasn’t a one-off thing for her. She couldn’t do that. Not with Marley. Her fingers combed through her hair and she did her best to take another breath, though the red in her cheeks felt like it was burning right through her. Fuck. Fuck. “Even if it doesn’t matter to you, it matters to me. I should--I should probably just… go,” she mumbled. Shook her head, stepped backwards, and took a deep breath, moving back through her apartment to gather her things. 

Marley felt her chest tightening again. Why did people keep saying that to her? About her? That she could just turn it off, as if she had any control over how she felt. She didn’t and she couldn’t. That wasn’t how it worked. Marley was just good at putting her feelings away because they never mattered-- they didn’t matter. But she didn’t know how to say that, how to respond to that. Erin was turning to leave now and Marley wanted to scream. “Don’t!” she said quickly, taking a step forward, but remembered Erin backing away from her and stopped, pulling back. “Don’t leave. I just-- I’m sorry. I take it back,” she said, “all of it. Even-- we can pretend it didn’t happen, just don’t leave.” She didn’t want to be alone. The feeling struck her like a wrecking ball-- she didn’t want to be alone. She missed Anita. She missed being held. She missed being touched. She missed everything. She’d been so alone and then Erin had fought her way back in and now Marley had done something to upset another person. “And I don’t just shut it off,” she found herself adding, stepping towards Erin fully this time, “I don’t know why everyone thinks I can just fucking-- not feel or pretend to not feel-- but it’s not true. I feel a lot, okay? I feel fucking everything. But it doesn’t matter-- my feelings just...don’t matter.” She found herself running her hands through her hair, gesturing stiffly. “They never mattered, so why would they now?”

Erin startled again in the desperation in Marley’s voice, but still she moved, her hands on her jacket. She hated this feeling, this ugly mortification seeping through her. “That’s not what I meant--” she said, shaking her head. “Or, I don’t know. Maybe it is. I just don’t know how you do it. I can’t… do that, go home with someone and move on the next day.” She felt herself rambling, knew it was the nerves building, allowing the words to keep spilling from her. She closed her eyes, wiping her hand over her eyes, trying to calm herself into expressing herself more rationally. A heavy breath left her during a brief silence before she felt collected enough to try again. “I don’t mean that you don’t have feelings. Because they matter. They do. But this, what you and I have, it’s too important to me and way too fragile to do what we just did. I’ve fucked up so much already and I can’t fuck up this. Not with you.”

Erin was still grabbing her stuff, she was still going to leave, and something visceral snapped in Marley. She reached out and put her hands on Erin’s, gripping tightly. “Please don’t--” she started, then stopped again. Realized what she was doing and let go quickly, backing away. Her eyes caught sight of the gift again and it reminded her of the happiness she’d felt literal minutes ago. Her skin was buzzing. “I don’t-- I don’t know what you mean. I don’t understand how that would it fuck it up?” And she didn’t, she really didn’t. Erin was the exception in her life, someone she’d befriended without sleeping with her. And it wasn’t like she couldn’t make friends the other way, she just never did because she didn’t operate that way. Her chest felt like it was burning. “Just tell me what I did wrong,” she said, a strange desperation to her voice, “just tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it and make it better.” And maybe she wasn’t talking about them anymore, even, but they were the only words that were coming out. 

Erin didn’t expect that reaction, couldn’t do more than freeze in place when Marley grabbed her. As much as her brain was telling her to go, her feet wouldn’t move. Not with how Marley was staring at her, pleading with her to stay. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Marley,” she sighed, suddenly tired and reluctant to talk about this. She hadn’t, technically. Up until a few moments ago, Erin hadn’t given any inclination that she didn’t want it. It was still hard to look at her as she tried to find the words, but she put her jacket down. “It would fuck it up because I care about you. A lot. And if we crossed that line, we can’t go back. I can’t go back. I can’t make that separation. And after everything, with Nic just--up and leaving, I can’t do that. I can’t lose someone else. I can’t.” She paused, working her jaw, trying to find the courage to look at Marley again, the pain clear in her voice. Her hand moved to her hip and she looked down again instead, shaking her head. “I’ve got a pretty good feeling neither of us are ready for something like that.”

It made sense, when Erin said it out loud, but the confused look still stuck on Marley’s face. “Wait, so--” she shook her head again, face drawn together in concern as she tried to put the pieces together and understand what it was Erin meant. What she wanted. “You said it was okay, but now you’re saying you...don’t want it?” She looked across at her, then to her jacket, then towards the door. The bottle of tequila, barely any drank. The stack of movies in the living room Marley had set aside for them to cycle through later and laugh at. The certificate on the table. The photo of them. Erin was her best friend, and her only friend. There was a line with her, and if they crossed it, there was no going back. Was she okay with that? Did she want that? She didn’t know. What she did know was that her heart still ached for someone else. And that was enough for her to concede to. She picked up the photo and the certificate and put them back in the urn. “You can leave if you want,” she said after a quiet moment, “I don’t want to mess this up, either.”

“I made a mistake. It was a mistake.” The words flew out of Erin faster and harsher than she intended, and internally she cringed at the delivery... but it answered Marley’s question didn’t it? Her mind raced and she wasn’t sure if was because she was lonely, or because she did feel things about Marley that couldn’t or shouldn’t be reciprocated, or they were caught up in a mess of complicated feelings on an emotional day. She had wanted it despite everything in her now telling her it was a mistake. “Fuck,” she muttered, covering her face with both of her hands, letting loose a frustrated groan into them. She didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to console Marley. She didn’t want to, either. Didn’t have the strength herself. “I should go,” she nodded quietly, grabbing her jacket again. “I’m sorry, I just--” she started, waiting for the best words to come to her. “I’m gonna go.” This option didn’t feel good either but it felt like the only one that made sense. There was no way they could just--pretend it didn’t happen and sit around comfortably, watching movies and drinking tequila. It was all she wanted to do but it didn’t seem possible now. “I’m sorry,” she repeated earnestly, shrugging, and stepped back out into the night. Her chest burning furiously the whole way back to her car. Another Merry fucking Christmas. 

Mistake. The word barreled into Marley’s head and ricocheted around and shattered every ounce of happiness she’d been holding onto. It dredged up memories and voices she thought she’d forgotten, and all she could hear was ‘You are a mistake’, ‘Adopting you was a mistake’, ‘Taking you in was a mistake’. She didn’t say anything when as Erin gathered up her stuff. She didn’t say anything as Erin left out the front door and shut and locked it. She didn’t say anything as she walked over to the tequila bottle, hand shaking, and drowned herself in it as much as she could. And when she saw the urn sitting on the table, she lost it. Turning on her heel, she launched the bottle as hard as she could against the wall, screaming. It shattered and spilled everywhere in the hallway. Next, she turned to the urn, gripping it with both hands, raised it above her head, ready to smash it on the floor in front of her, but-- but-- she couldn’t. She just...couldn’t. Instead, she sank to the floor, hugging the cool marble box to her chest, and fell back against the wall. Mistake, was all she could think as she stopped trying to hold back her tears, I’m a mistake.

[palettes-and-prompts]

40 Prompts!

Prompts for the Sunshiney Character/Storm Cloud Relationship

1) A and B go to a theme park and B notices how much A keeps staring at the games where you can win stuffed animals and while A's back is turned B wins them a huge stuffed animal. 2) A realizes they've never heard B laugh before and so they spend the whole day telling them lame jokes to get them to laugh but they never do. It isn't until something bad happens to C in front of them that B lets out the hardest laugh A's ever heard. And while they're terrified of B's humor they're in love with their laugh. 3) A tries to find out more about B's interests but since B is very secretive it's hard for them to find anything out about them. But when A hears B watching wrestling they get B tickets to a match and suddenly B's out of their seat cheering for a wrestler to hit the other with a chair. A's never seen B happier. 4) While grocery shopping A is putting junk food into the basket and B is taking it out and putting in healthier options until they get to the dairy section and B puts four gallons of chocolate milk in the cart, absolutely shocking A. When B tries to explain themselves A tells them they're going back and getting the junk food they want. B lets them and doesn't take out a thing they put in after that. 5) A wears shorts and one of B's t-shirts and A keeps thinking B's sick because their face is flushed all day when they look at A. 6) A gets B some flowers because they're trying to show more affection but it backfires when B begins sneezing and getting watery eyes. (Bonus if A goes back to the store and gets fake flowers and allergy relief medication.) 7) A and B go into a haunted house and A doesn't have time to be scared because B's lightning fast reflexes keep knocking the scare actors flat on their ass and A keeps apologizing while B's trying hard not to keep doing it every time someone pops out. 8) A and B get their face painted and while A who is sunshiney gets something scary B, the storm cloud, gets a cute animal and then they go out for food. 9) A and B go to the zoo and while in the part where you're allowed to pet the animals A is trying hard to get animals to like them B is the one all the animals keep swarming and rubbing against. 10) A and B go to the beach and even though B doesn't like the beach. While A has fun in the water B has fun when the seagulls begin attacking people who brought food. (Bonus if it ends with B saying they now love the beach.)

Fluffy Prompts for the Human/Vampire Relationship

1) Everyone warns A about B being a vampire and one day when they're out with friends B casually mentions that they smell good and everyone is wide eyed until B's like "I was talking about their perfume/cologne." Which makes them all give a sigh of relief and the group spends the whole day trying to make it up to B because A really likes them.

2) It's hot outside and so A hugs B to stay cool. And for once in their life B's kind of glad they're a vampire. 3) A who is like ice feels bad they can't cuddle with B so they buy a ridiculously warm onesie and gloves to hold them. (Bonus if the onesie is extremely tacky because they got it last minute.) 4) A's jackets are in the wash so they wear one of B's without telling the. (Bonus if B spends all day looking for it since it's their favorite one.) 5) A feels bad B can't enjoy food so they spend hours researching until they find a few recipes B can eat since they're mixed with a lot of blood. (Bonus if they messed up the recipe but B thinks it's the most delicious thing ever.) 6) A can't see their reflection so B spends the whole day figuring out if there's a way for a vampire to see their own reflection. 7) In a world where humans can become blood donors as a job and pick the vampire they work for A gets lucky enough to meet a wealthy B. B is excited because A's cute and has a rare blood type. 8) A celebrates a birthday or holiday where gifts are involved and everyone thinks B's favorite color is red because they're a vampire. But they tell everyone they actually hate red and so everyone tries to figure out what their favorite color is. 9) A reads trashy vampire novels to B, a vampire, who does nothing but lay their head on A's lap and go  "Oh my god, we don't even do that! That's such bullshit, that's not even what happened during the signing of the Treaty of Versailles. I should know, I was there!" 10) A hasn't been around humans in a long time and is very confused when looking at certain technology or clothing B wears.

Hurt/Comfort Prompts for the Human/Vampire Relationship

1) A has always hated vampires and when they become one B shows them how to survive in their world. 2) A gets injured and B can't help them because of their blood lust. B is incredibly jealous of C for being able to take care of them when they can't 3) A almost drinks B's blood when A accidentally cuts themself. Later A buys some rosary beads for someone at work to ward off a vampire they work with who's getting handsy or whatever. But when B finds them they're worried A doesn't trust them anymore. 4) A gets injured running away from vampires and B is a vampire who finds them and patches them up. 5) A can tell what turns B on because they're constantly listening to their heart rate. Imagine A being incredibly jealous when B sees C because their heart rate spikes. (Bonus if B just really hates C so it's nothing more than them preparing themselves to be annoyed for the day.) 6) A rescues vampire B from a mad scientist who was conducting experiments on B to see if vampires could be changed back and how much pain they can endure. 7) A is a human who's lost everything and B is a vampire who grants them eternal life and revenge against those who wronged them. 8) A hates vampires and works for a group of vampire hunters but when they stumble upon B and see how scared they are it reminds them of their past and they help them escape, this leads B to become attached to A and curious about them. A hates it until they think it's actually kind of cute. 9) In a world where humans are kidnapped and kept alive for their blood A is leading a rebellion until they're captured. B, a vampire in the cell next to them, befriends them and tells them the guard schedules and personalities and tells them they'll help them escape if they get them out too. (Bonus if A is going to betray B until their time together makes A feel things.) 10) A is the most heartless human and B is the most compassionate/alive vampire. The two meet and change each others lives, but is that for the better or worse?

Crack Prompts for the Human/Vampire Relationship

1) A makes garlic bread and B spends hours trying to figure out what they did wrong. Turns out A forgot that B couldn't have garlic bread and didn't remember when they bought, they just thought "Wow, haven't had garlic bread in a while." 2) A cuts their finger and before B can react A sucks the blood from their finger. And it wouldn't be a big deal except for the fact that B moaned when A did that so now things are weird. 3) A and B go grocery shopping and afterwards they check the police records for any criminals in the area for B to drink from. 4) A is a nurse who works at a hospital in charge of blood and B is a blood thief A is constantly spraying with holy water to keep out of the room where they store all the blood. When new nurse C arrives they panic until A comes and spritzes them. When C is like "???" A is like "They do that all the time. They don't bite humans, they drink animal blood. But sometimes they're tempted to drink human blood so you gotta spritz them when you see them." 5) A wonders why B never feeds in front of them and B just tells them they wouldn't want to watch anything like that. But when A finally convinces B to actually have dinner with them they feed in front of A. (Bonus if A is horrified and lowkey loses their appetite but tries to play it off) 6) A can't see their reflection so B is constantly drawing dicks on their face when they're asleep. 7) A thinks it's hot when B speaks a different language, but when B catches on and uses it during an argument A is constantly telling them to stop flexing their knowledge. B thinks it's hilarious though but stops for a while so when A's in the mood B can talk dirty in another language. (Bonus if by the time B does that A can speak the language too.) 8) A has been staring at someone B hates all day and when B thinks A might have a crush they get sad until A admits they just have a gross blood type and can't stand the smell. 9) "You look really peaceful when you sleep, very beautiful." "Please don't watch me sleep, it's so weird, dude." "We have sex all the time, do not call me dude." 10) A getting mad at vampire B before they go out and saying some shit like, "You have something on your face by the way." And not telling B where it is because they know B can't see their own reflection to wipe whatever it is off. (Bonus if A is smug the whole time and B is like "Come on, lets not fight tonight and just...just tell me where it is! Is it my nose? My teeth? What is it?!?")

Sorry this took so long, @zoliis I wanted to give you at least 10 prompts for each one, hope these are kind of what you’re looking for maybe? If not just let me know and I’ll do some more! :)

[yourdreamscenarios]

When he pranks you but goes too far

🎃 Halloween scenario 🎃

Characters: Jungkook / OC Genre: Angst Word count: 3,538

"We have to stick to the theme." Taehyung explained to you as you shot him a hesitant look. Beside him Hoseok sniffed, clearly on your side. When you had let yourself be convinced into coming over tonight you hadn't expected for this to happen. What you had been longing for was a quiet and relaxing night, not one filled with palpitations and sweaty hands. Yet, beside you Jungkook seemed completely up for it as he nestled himself against the cushions of the couch. Yoongi seemed uninterested and seemed to be doubting if he should stay here or work some more on his music instead. Maybe you had to keep the option open of going with him, so that at least you would get some sleep tonight. "I don't know." Seokjin muttered on the other side of the room, tugging his legs underneath him in his personal sofa. He always wanted the one seat, saying that as the oldest one of the team and the official grandpa he deserved his own spot. 

Taehyung ignored him and you watched the way he was reaching for the remote, planning on switching the channel to Netflix. Knowing him he would probably act all tough now, but he would chicken out after the twenty minutes, convincing all of you he was just tired and he wanted to go to bed. Searching for a way out your brain was thinking of the right excuse, but you couldn't find one. "I'm going to bed." You eventually announced, already pushing yourself up from your spot in the hope to make it out of the room before someone could protest. But you had barely moved an inch as two strong arms wrapped themselves around you, tugging you back against a firm chest. You squirmed in his hold, trying to escape, but that was impossible. 

"It's eight a’clock babe, you can't go to bed." Jungkook announced, and you could hear the smile inside of his voice as he tightened his hold around you, forcing you in between his legs. Stilling in his grasp you found yourself having a hard time giving into your defeat. How did you have to explain to him that you were not up for this? You really didn’t feel the need to join them watching this now that you knew they were planning on spending it watching some kind of horror series. You had heard about this one before, had read the gossips on the internet that it was said to be so scary that several people had simply stopped watching, shitting themselves. This was not the type of soap for a person who already wasn’t a fan of scary things, a person like you. You’d never enjoyed this genre of movies or books, didn’t understand what others liked about them. 

What was wrong with the nightmare before Christmas? It was a movie suited for so many holidays and one linked to Halloween which you actually found yourself enjoying. The haunting of Hill House was not what you would suggest to watch on a night like this but that was what Taehyung had proposed and it didn’t sound like something you would watch without being obligated into doing it. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d find yourself having bad dreams because of watching something on a late night. Perhaps it was childish and Jungkook would think you were a loser because you couldn’t stand looking at this, but you didn’t care about what he thought. He could tease you all he wanted, he wasn’t the one who had to deal with the paranoia that something could pop out behind every piece of furniture after this was over. 

Sending him a look which should instantly tell him how you were thinking about this you tried to untie his arms from around yourself. “I think I’ll sit this one out.” You tried again, making sure he could hear the urge inside of your voice, but your boyfriend simply tilted his head to the side and shot you an innocent smile. But behind that grin, inside of his dark brown eyes you could see the devilish glint. He wasn’t planning on letting you escape. You glared at him as he started making himself more comfortable on the couch, making sure you were cuddled against his chest. “You don’t have to be scared, I’ll keep you safe.” He assured you and you let out a deep sigh as you stopped struggling. Why put all the effort in it? If he wasn’t planning on letting you go freely than there was no way for you to sneak out. Your body stiffened against him when all of a sudden Jimin turned off the lights, leaving the eight of you present in a completely dark room, only the TV screen lighting up your faces. 

Jungkook chuckled in your ear, pressing a small kiss underneath your lobe as to calm you. “Relax.” He muttered softly, making sure the others weren’t able to hear him. You really dreaded the moment but eventually it couldn’t be helped as Taehyung pressed play and the first episode started. You would never be able to sit this out for an entire season. Knowing that this single one took an hour already made you want to sulk. You really didn’t want to be here.  It wasn’t fair, Jungkook was known not to be easily shaken. He didn’t mind spending his time on the couch and endure this. Grabbing a pillow from the corner of the sofa you used it as a shelter, cradling it against your chest and planning to hide behind it if necessary. It would be so much better if you could convince them to turn off the sounds, but you were well aware that would never be allowed. 

Squeezed the pillow in your hold you tried your hardest to keep a straight face as the intro rolled by. Watching the family trying to adapt to their new house as the father went to tell his kids that it everything they saw were just dreams. Even though nothing had happened yet, you already knew that this was going to be bad. There was a certain sphere around it, that told you that something terrible was about to happen. Trying to focus on the way Jungkook’s chest was raising and falling against your back you hoped that the movement would calm you. None of the things you saw on that screen were real, they were all fiction, played by great actors and actresses. All of the things you saw were just special effects, those kinds of things didn’t happen in real life. You held onto that as you pressed your face even closer into the fabric, wishing you could hide yourself. 

If only Jungkook would hold you a little tighter, so you could curl into him and you would feel more protected. Soon the progress of the episode became different, the music became darker and the tension was building up. As soon as you saw the little boy walking towards the door you wanted to scream at him, telling him not to open it. That was always how it went, everyone who watched this knew that it was a stupid move to see what was on the other side of the door, knowing that it would either kill you or scare the crap out of you. But what was also typical was that the character never listened, and was always stubborn enough to open the door anyway. You jumped when all of a sudden Hoseok let out a numbed yelp beside you as the door knob started moving itself, without the boy touching it. 

It was as if your heart was about to beat out of your chest, trying to break through its cage. The sudden sound had startled you more than the image in front of you. If you wouldn’t need this pillow so bad you would have launched it at his head by now. Jungkook’s soft laugh rang from behind you and you felt like nudging him. How dare he laugh at you while he knew very well how scared you were? It was his fault you were here watching this stupid thing in the first place. In the end, there hadn’t been anyone in the hallway and you never found out who had been twisting that door knob. To be honest you didn’t mind. But it was obvious that it was far from over, there was still a lot more to come. On the couch beside you Taehyung was looking for a place to hide behind a blanket, nothing left of the posture he had been holding up before. Hoseok looked as if he was about to shit himself and Seokjin looked almost as pale as a ghost himself. 

Yet, none of them looked as if they were planning on running out on this. Perhaps it was because they were afraid of what the others would say, of being called names. Or maybe they just didn’t want to give into it. Whatever it was, you didn’t share this way of thinking and in your head you were thinking of a way to get out of this. “I’m going to the bathroom.” Jungkook suddenly muttered softly into your ear, and you tensed. Was he seriously planning on leaving you alone just now? He couldn’t go, you needed him here. He’d said that he was going to protect you and now he was actually going to bail? He must have seen the look inside of your eyes when you gazed at him, because he quickly shot you a comforting smile. “Don’t worry, it’ll take just a minute. I promise you there’s no one who’s going to come over to grab you. Taehyung hyung will make sure of it.” He said and as you looked up at his older friend you saw him shiver inside of his seat because of something that passed on the screen. This had to be a joke. 

You were just about to put aside your pride and offer to go with him when he shifted and got up. If you would follow him then you would look like an idiot? What were you going to do? What in the hallway until he was done with his piss? So you stayed put, even though your insides were shaking and you wanted nothing more than to run off and hide underneath the covers of his bed. You were supposed to behave like an adult, but right now you wanted your dad here. Demanding yourself to focus you tried to pick up where you had left off, seeing that the scenery had changed once again. One of the brothers was laying in a bed, the camera focused on his face. You were sure that if he would open his eyes and he would look up at the ceiling a terrible thing was awaiting him. You really didn’t want to look, but somehow you couldn’t help it. You had to know what was going to happen. His eyes opened and your heartbeat fastened inside of your chest when you saw the stunned expression on the guy’s face. 

They were going to show you what he was looking at. All of a sudden something took you by the shoulders, a low ‘boo’ resounding inside of your ear and you couldn’t help but scream. Hoseok’s shout followed straight after and Seokjin’s mingled right in. In the blink of an eye you were up from the couch, moving as fast as a lightning bolt. There was only one thing your body could still do and that was run. Yet, you had no idea where you were headed in the dark and your foot got stuck behind the leg of the table. You barely had time to process what happened as you landed on the floor, your hands too late to catch you and your chin hitting the ground with a thud. A sharp pain shot through your face when you heard the sounds of crackling laughter filling the room. Tears gathered in the corners of your eyes, and you weren’t sure if it had to do with the soreness you were enduring or the embarrassment you felt. They were all laughing at you. 

The lights went on inside of the room and you could see Seokjin holding onto his stomach as he doubled over. If you hadn’t noticed the taste of blood inside of your mouth you would have lashed out on them. You wailed softly and saw someone crouching down beside you. “Babe, are you okay?” Jungkook asked, tears running down his face, but not because he was sad. A large grin was plastered on his face as his shoulder shook with giggles. He reached out his hands to you, trying to help you up, but as you turned over you slapped them away, pushing yourself upright. Anger was boiling inside of you but the boys seemed to think it was all a part of the game as they continued to get amused by the situation. Lifting your hand you pushed your finger into the inside of your lip, watching the way it was colored red with blood as you retreated it. Next to you, your boyfriend’s laughter soon died out when he noticed. 

“______________…” He started, trying to curl his fingers around your chin to get a better look at you but before he even had the chance of touching you, you scurried up from the floor, marching out of the room. They all turned silent because of your sudden departure. A tear rolled down your cheek as you slammed the bathroom door close beside you, sure that the impact caused the dorm to shake, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. If it were up to you, even the neighbors were allowed to hear. What the hell was wrong with him? How could he be so childish? You could have gotten yourself seriously injured. If the impact had been bigger then you might have lost a tooth. Your jaws hurt as you opened your mouth, checking up on the damage. The imprints of your teeth were clearly left behind in the flesh of your bottom lip, bleeding freely. You could already tell it was going to be sensitive for the next couple of days. Gazing at your reflection inside of the mirror you stared right into your own furious eyes, angrily lifting your hand to wipe away the drop that was rolling down your face. 

He had known that you didn’t want to watch this stupid series from the very start. He was aware of the fact that you were scared and that you were jumpy. Why did it even cross his mind to pull a stunt like this? If he’d been trying to be funny well then good for him, his friends had seemed to be having a great time watching you fall straight on your face. You had literally almost gotten a heart attack when you had felt someone touching you out of nowhere like that. Grabbing a cup that was placed on the sink you filled it with some cold water, taking a big gulp and rinsing your mouth. You tried to ignore the red discoloration of the fluid once you spitted it out. A soft and hesitant knock resounded against the door and you simply repeated the step again as you ignored it. “_______________, are you okay?” Jungkook’s careful voice reached you through the wood, asking you the same question he had done before. And just like that time you still weren’t okay, you were pissed, and in pain. 

“Go away.” You yelled, and you could imagine him flinching at the other side of the door because of your words. You were sure it had never been his plan for something like this to happen, but he should have thought about the consequences before he had gotten himself into this. Inwardly you groaned when you saw the door handle lower out of the corner of your eyes, no one ever listened when being told not to open a damn door. It seemed like it wasn’t just a horror movie thing. Keeping your eyes pointing straight on your actions you completely neglected him when he came in, taking in another mouth full of water. His image appeared beside yours, a guilty and slightly worried look plastered over his face as he shuffled close to you. Placing down the cub you inhaled a trembling breath before reaching out to your toilet bag, placing everything back inside of it which you had unpacked earlier this night. He followed all of your movements, taken aback by them. 

“What are you doing?” He asked, confusion dripping from his voice as you stuffed away your toothbrush and zipped up the bag. Hooking it beneath your arm you tried not to poke your tongue against your lip as you spoke. “I’m leaving.” You spatted, thinking it was quite obvious. There was no way you were going to spend the night here and lay beside him in bed tonight. You didn’t want to see his face at this moment. Aiming straight for the door your fingers curled around the handle, but a hand shot past the side of your head and pressed against the door, keeping you from opening it. You didn’t think it was possible for you to get even more angry, but it seemed like you could. You were wondered if steam was coming out of your ears by now because that was how you felt. “Jungkook let me go.” You grumbled, rattling the knob, but the damn door wouldn’t butch. Watching his muscles flex underneath the sleeves of his shirt you knew that he wasn’t planning on giving into you. 

“No, listen to me first.” He practically begged and when he placed a hand on top of your waist and tried to spin you around so you would face him, you dug your feet into the floor and made sure that his actions wouldn’t work out. He sighed in defeat before all of a sudden he took a big step forward and his chin ended up on your shoulder. Your muscles stiffened, but somehow you couldn’t force yourself to pull away from him. “I’m so sorry.” He muttered right beside your ear, his breath hitting the side of your neck. Squeezing your eyes you studied the detail of the wood in front of you, not saying anything. For now the throbbing of your lip was still worse than your need to forgive him. It was almost as if he seemed to realize that as he circled his arms around your waist, tugging you closer to his chest. The warmth of his body pressed against yours made you relax a tiny bit. “I shouldn’t have done that, I just didn’t expect you to get so scared.” He explained, an apologetic tone in his words. 

Turning on the balls of your feet you shot him a heated glare and he quickly tugged his head back slight before you would bump into each other. “What did you expect? You knew I didn’t want to watch!” You yelled at him and when he bit his lip in guilt you couldn’t help but get reminded of the fact that you wouldn’t be able to do that for a while without getting reminded of the stupid stunt he had pulled. Quickly he placed both of his hands on top of your cheeks, holding onto your face softly. He forced you to look inside of his eyes, his gaze drilling into yours. “I know! And I’m really sorry. I’m an idiot.” He assured you and you were glad that at least he had come to figure that out on his own. It was stupid of him that he had thought that he could do this without getting scolded. This was the last time you would ever watch something like this with him. “Let me see.” He tried, convincing you to open your mouth to show him how bad your injury was. 

Even though you were still mad at him, you still did as you were told, and he winced when he noticed the small gaps in your bottom lip. He really hadn’t expected this to happen, he felt terrible. “Do you need something for the pain?” He asked, wanting to do whatever he could to help you and to make up for what he had done. You frowned, wanting to tell him that you didn’t need him to do anything more and he had done enough when he started tugging at your bag underneath your arm. Fighting him you watching the way he looked at you with big pleading eyes. “Please stay here, it’s late and it’s dark. I don’t want you to be on the road right now. I’ll sleep on the couch if you want me to, but please don’t go.” He muttered quietly and somehow you couldn’t help but release the pressure on the pouch and let him place it back on the cabinet. Sighing deeply you knew that you would never be able to let him sleep on the couch by himself, even though he was an idiot, you weren’t that heartless. The ghosts could catch up on him anytime. 

BTS Masterlist

[fracturedsoul86]

My Journey - As Abbreviated As I Can Make It...

Fig. 1: Easter Dinner 2019 at the delicious Golden Pheasant in Torrance, CA, consisting of sizzling rice soup, sweet and sour soup, mushoo pork, kung pao shrimp and chicken, sizzling beef, Mongolian beef, and pineapple fried rice. Yum!

This was my Easter dinner (Fig. 1)... Spectacular by most standards. Copious, delicious, extravagant, and truly a blessing for me at a time when I felt extreme loneliness. And I’ll be honest... not only loneliness, but entrapment. 

**Pause For Positivity** Before I breakdown some of the negative emotions above, I need to acknowledge that my roommates and house manager at South Bay Sober Living saw my dark, depressed mood on Easter, and made immediate moves to try and lift my spirits, resulting in the beautiful meal you see above. For only knowing me 4.5 days, that was a nice surprise to see care and concern arise from people who had no reason to show me any. So a huge win for positivity and kindness that night, and a reminder to find the positive in everything ALWAYS!

Now, to dissect how I got to that dark, lonely place and that feeling of entrapment. I was feeling alone and forgotten on a holiday that had for many years held a special place in the hearts of my family members, and meant getting a little more dressed up than usual and enjoying a beautiful meal and family time. Now, mind you, being younger and in a different mindset entirely, and having endured some of the very dark, negative, and frankly hellish lows I have in the past 13 months, I never appreciated these gatherings and the time with family then like I do now. As well, starting at 18 with the death of my father, followed by my grandmother, aunt, uncle, family friends, and friends’ relatives, the recurring depressive thought that one day I would be entirely alone in this world, no family, no friends, no one thinking about me or concerned as to my well-being or my whereabouts, sunk in and slowly started to sabotage my desire to work towards anything of value in my life. 

It also revealed the beast of co-dependence the three main people who raised me - my mother, my father, and my grandmother (mother’s mother) - had instilled in me. For years, the image I portrayed to those around me was prioritized. How I presented myself, how I represented the family, the expectations for my life... they were piled on over and over, and what I wanted, and who I was, was secondary to the mold that was envisioned for me. Those qualities and desires that I had that fit in that mold were supported, encouraged, and shown and talked about with pride to anyone who would listen. Those which did not were repeatedly rebuffed, criticized, and swiftly “corrected.” This resulted in low self-esteem, a confused self image, and an inability to speak up for myself. I was bullied by my cousins, as well as by my peers when I switched schools in third grade, and became used to running to my teacher and day care workers for protection. I became a people pleaser, a “yes” man, and highly dependent on the approval of others. Plus, I spent years, even when I moved out on my own and wasn’t always the most financially prudent or responsibility-minded, in which my family never let me get too uncomfortable. And why should they? Overall, I was a good kid, intelligent and highly accomplished scholastically, and eventually a good guy and promising employee. 

Mind you, they allowed uncomfortability a place in my life to a degree to show me life isn’t all smiley faces and lollipops. I wasn’t handed everything, nor did I have no consequences when I strayed off course. I kept a job though, had a car, had an apartment. Held it all seemingly together. I was drinking myself away on weekends when I went out with friends, though, and followed those friends into a deeper path of self “exploration,” but realistically speaking, it was more self medication, getting into weed, cocaine, ecstasy, molly, mushrooms, and acid. Regardless, help always came as long as my life appeared to be handled somewhat. It always seemed like there would be some net at some point that would catch me when I fell too deep, or some switch would trigger when life was getting too tough for me to handle, and help would rush in. Deluded sounding, I know, but when you haven’t fallen to your rock bottom, it’s just an ever present constant that just is... until it isn’t. 

With those contextual markers in mind, my brain would be clicking along, distracted by life, by work, by bills, by TV, by friends, and eventually by alcohol and drugs, anything to keep me from thinking about the dark depressing realization of being alone that continued to become so very real with each person that slipped from life, from my life, and from this world. Without anyone caring about me, why is it even worth living? What is there to live for when we all are just going to die anyway? My hope, my happiness, my reasons for being, it all started to fade away.

**Screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeech** Depression, fueled by so much that had befallen me in life in subtle and not so subtle ways, brought my life to a grinding halt. Right at a weak point though, the most anti-depressive drug I know hooked in and took over - Crystal Meth. Dopamine and Serotonin flooding my system over and over, relieving me of the darkness, and fueling one of the most pleasure-inducing activities in life for me - masturbation and sex - took over. In a mind like mine, traumatized by life, unaware as to its true source of joy, of happiness, Crystal Meth found a home that needed it very badly! Boy, did I give in to it HARD. In the course of a year in which Crystal Meth, Sex, and Masturbation took priority over everything else, I lost my job, I lost some friendships, a relationship, my apartment, and finally my freedom. 

Mind you, the Meth use also resulted in experiences and an opening of my mind that caused me to become both more able to see the realities of what is, taught me to ultimately place my happiness in myself, rather than anyone else, and unlocked in me memories, gave me visions of potentialities, showed me patterns I never saw before, and showed me how to accept things that others found to be absurd, crazy, or, as they saw it, “impossible.” It is interesting though, that Truth is so incredibly relative. I didn’t realize that presented with compelling arguments of what I know to be the Truth, others would actually take all of it as ridiculous. Literally EVERYONE I know around me in fact. I have been repeatedly, daily in fact, faced with incredulity, doubt, and downright anger for things I’ve said because people refuse to listen to me and actually take what I say and think, “He may be right.” They choose to always respond with, “You’re crazy. You’re erratic. What you’re saying is unbelievable and patently false.” Is it? IS IT? How do YOU know? Have you checked the validity of your sources? Have you checked the validity of mine? NO, THEN SIT THE FUCK DOWN AND CALM THE FUCK DOWN! If you haven’t fact checked what I say and have chosen instead to simply say “I disbelieve it because I don’t have to believe it,” then that’s what I call a wall. Not a friend, not even a courteous person. A wall. A friend says, “Interesting ideas. I don’t know that I agree, but as your friend, as someone who cares, let me look into this. You may be right!”I have yet to hear a single person in my life say that, and actually make an effort to help me prove that my Truth is The Truth, or help me to see that what I believed to be The Truth is actually just imagined truth. 

THAT IS WHERE ALL MY CURRENT ANGER AND RESENTMENT STEM FROM, AND WHY FEW RELATIONSHIPS FROM MY PAST STAND A CHANCE OF REVISITATION UNLESS I CHOOSE TO OVERLOOK THIS FACT. That is why I’m finding it hard to reach out, and why I’m finding it hard to let anyone in unless they make a concerted effort to understand me, or at least listen to me and not make me feel like I’m worthless because they disagree with me or simply can’t take the time to try and understand, or help prove or disprove my truth. It’s because that is the lengths I go to for my friends, and it is what I expect of my friends now too. Close friends that is. 

Now, about that feeling of entrapment... In a country that runs on money, when you’re out of it, help comes at the cost of your own autonomy. Help comes with strings. And that’s where I’m at.

Feeling out of control of my own destiny has to be the scariest feeling there is, and entering sober living as well as court-ordered treatment because I’d allowed the control of my life to escape me has been a hard pill to swallow. My ability to choose and to live has been thrown into question, and dealing with that has been hard, especially after making it work more-or-less successfully for me for 12 of 13 years solo. Giving consideration to a different path, and to others, because I’d run down every last bit of personal and monetary equity I had trying to live life my way in every way I thought I could has felt like a real disappointment to me, and has caused me to react in anger, sadness, disappointment, and frustration towards others when they don’t deserve it, as far as help is concerned. Mind you, some people have deserved it, and my contentious relationship I have with “help” comes from the anger over the above reluctancy for ANYONE to consider MY POINT OF VIEW at all. There are people I let into my life, and frankly pursued to have in my life, whose reactions and feelings towards me disappointed me greatly when I asked for basic emotional support and understanding that is not unreasonable nor overarching for a friend to ask for from another friend. Some of those people especially hurt me because I’d invested a lot of time, energy, money, and emotion into creating friendships of what I felt to be of great value to both of us, and who I felt would stick by me when the going got tough. Watching desire to understand, desire to help, and desire to “agree to disagree” and continue working toward the common goal of “us” wither away, but especially a desire to communicate at all and to begin the process of amending what has been broken or hurt, befuddled, confused, and downright astounded me.

The single BIGGEST lesson taken from all of it: Invest time and resources wisely in life. With what time we have, as limited or unlimited as it may be, think through each investment with as much care as we can, and it is worth. Also, ultimately, YOUR Life is YOURS... MY Life is MINE; YOUR Design for YOUR Life is YOURS... MY Design for MY Life is MINE. Ultimate happiness and contentment are decided by each individual as to what that looks like for them. Provided no harm comes to others in achieving that happiness, or that happiness is not dependent on the harm or downfall of another/others, then intervention and/or negative criticisms have no place or voice when conversing of one’s goals, hopes, or ideas of their happiness. Rather than criticize and focus on differences, focus on commonalities, focus on positivity, focus on helping each other reach for the best version of themselves, and in doing so, reach for their happiness!

Fig. 2: RMS Titanic sinks in mid-Atlantic on a frigid April night in 1912. Cold, dark, desolate, lonely, very much a watery, icey hell for the passengers aboard.

Now, for some analogizing...

Forgive the predictable analogy, but being that it is April, I am who I am (one fascinated with disaster, especially that of the RMS Titanic, and ocean liners, especially the Olympic-Class ships and those vessels Harland & Wolff built off the same basic platform), and it fits so well for the message I have, I’ll go with it. As you may (or may not) know, the White Star liner RMS Titanic of 1912 was the most advanced large luxury liner its builders could envision at the time, building evolutionarily on multiple designs which had preceded it, each improving on the one before and pushing the envelope just a little bit further and further to create something even larger, more luxurious, and more profitable for its operating company, while taking measured risk in each iteration and abiding by maritime law in place at the time. Ultimately though, the design WAS limited... by cost, by profitability considerations, by outdated laws unable to keep pace with technology, by desire for power over the shipping industry, and by pure Edwardian Age ego manifested to great achievement, as well as great disaster, during the Industrial Revolution. What conspired to do in the Titanic in dramatic fashion during the late night/early morning hours of April 14-15, 1912 in the frigid, sub-zero mid-Atlantic was a combination of factors (seriously... we’re talking Final Destination - destiny/fate levels of undersight, oversight, stupidity, ego, and plain old blindness) that created the least likely scenario the ship’s designers never even imagined/considered possible to befall the latest, greatest, most evolved version of the “Olympic-Class” design. The first version of this newest design went to sea in original form in May 1911 with RMS Olympic. The Titanic was the 1st evolution of the design, going to sea in April 1912, followed by a 2nd evolution immediately instituted in an early refit on Olympic following Titanic’s loss, with a 3rd iteration launched in 1914 as the RMS (HMHS) Britannic, only seeing life as a hospital ship due to the outbreak of WWI. 

Before I geek out hard on the topic of Titanic-related knowledge, the point of mentioning all of this... White Star did not throw away what was a strong basic design. It took what it learned and created something improved, each iteration becoming better and better.

Primary example: HMHS Britannic only completed 14 voyages during WWi, though she did them all comfortably, reliably, without a problem, before she hit a mine off the Greek island of Kia and sank with a loss of 30 lives. 30! With a compliment of passengers and crew roughly the same size as that present on Titanic when she sank, most of which were far less capable of evacuating the ship due to sickness and injuries sustained while fighting out on the battlefields of Europe and North Africa. Further, the Britannic sank in approximately 55 minutes, less than a third of the time it took for Titanic to sink, because of breaches in wartime protocol that allowed water to spill into the open portholes above and behind watertight compartments that would have assured that the liner didn’t sink at all had they remained closed. Being that the ship was built for North Atlantic service and not hot Mediterranean climates, this oversight makes sense. But what an astonishing difference! 2/3 less time to evacuate the sinking liner, majority of passengers unfit to even move from it, and yet only 30 lives lost! Far less than the loss of ~1200 on her older sister. 

The coupe d’grace of the whole story though... the final evolution, instituted on the OG following the loss of Britannic, would see Olympic through to the end of her successful, 24-years-long career, during which she remained profitable and garnered the well-earned nickname “Old Reliable.” She sailed in perfect working order her entire career, in fact only improving in reliability and efficiency with age, and was only taken out service because she was surplus tonnage during the Depression. 

Because of hard financial times, White Star and Cunard merged, and the large liners RMS Mauretania, RMS Aquitania, RMS Berengaria, RMS Olympic, RMS Homeric, and RMS Majestic were all taken out of service and scrapped for a single two-ship service that would consist of RMS Queen Mary and RMS Queen Elizabeth, with the holes in service during refits to the Queens filled by RMS Mauretania (II) and RMS Caronia. 

Fig. 3: RMS Olympic in 1911 configuration in Southampton, prior to Titanic’s sinking in April 1912.

Fig. 4: HMHS Britannic, seen in hospital ship dress. Her design changes, especially in the area of lifeboat capacity and accessibility are quite noticeable; while other structural adjustments were made to accommodate additional passenger capacity and/or passenger amenities, as well as functional improvements for better service. 

Fig. 5: RMS Olympic later in her career, with the functional addition of a full compliment of lifeboats along each side of her boat deck visible, a clear reaction to the inadequate number of lifeboats fitted to her and her ill-fated sister Titanic in original configuration.

I view myself, my journey, and my life much like that of the Olympic-class liners. The first part of my life was like those first beautiful, hopeful years from 1907-1911 when the shipyard was readied and the Olympic and Titanic constructed side-by-side. My first 13 months (January 2017 - February 2018) at the law firm I worked at just before Crystal Meth hooked into my life dramatically was like that successful year of service for RMS Olympic from May 1911- April 1912, and the period in which my present reality declined and ended over my depression, co-dependent behavior and thought patterns, and self-medication with Crystal Meth, as well as my over-confidence in my ability to recover without help much like the sinking of the RMS Titanic. Now that I’ve learned the lessons, and am receiving help, taking consideration of others’ suggestions, and taking advantage of a returned sense of mental clarity free from deep emotion (some created by people and experiences, and some manufactured by Crystal Meth), I’m not throwing away my design - MY DESIGN FOR MY LIFE AND MY HAPPINESS, NOT YOURS, NO JUDGEMENT ALLOWED HERE - I’m improving it, looking through my notes, instituting the lessons, and keeping a sharp eye out for those snakes in the grass again. I’m not letting snakes back in.

The focus has changed as well. My happiness, safety, security, stability, and priorities come first. If I find others of the same mind and mindset, excellent! Let’s unite and build a beautiful relationship and life together, whether that’s as business partners, friends, lovers, or any combination therein. But no more full disclosure. No more full transparency. No more oversharing. My defenses are up, and my boundaries will be lowered with measured consideration. I see the switches that flip people. I see the people whose switches are easily flipped. One very clear one is Crystal Meth. Made everyone around me lose their minds. Everyone around me said I lost mine. But I didn’t, they in fact did. Facts people. Fact check my statements. See who’s actually telling the truth... If you can prove my statements are false, verifiably, unequivocally, then I will thank you for caring enough to prove me wrong, and will accept that what I thought the truth was is not. If you prove me right, I will thank you for being a good friend, and you will find that you should have been listening to me and be astounded and who I am the whole time!

[picsofsannyas]

An interview with Veet Nirvana. The No Book. Darshan diary.

Nirvana (he’s 52, married, separated, father of five) met Osho this year when he’d come to Poona to attend an International conference of dentists (the Divine really does work in mysterious ways!) In an interview he talked aboutt his background in relation to how he came to hear of Osho.

Veet Nirvana: I’ve always been on a quest for something, and didn’t know what it was. It was always what was just over the next hill or around the next corner. I envisioned myself as part of the Lewis and Clark expedition in my boyhood and my dreams, because this was one of the first groups of people who went from the East part of the states into the unknown West looking for something. They didn’t know what they were looking for; they were just looking. I think that’s what I’ve been doing-just looking, not in any particular direction just looking.

I’m sceptical by nature and I think it’s because my training is very scientific and I’ve heard many people speak on scientific subjects, but always somewhere there was a question that was never answered. In Osho’s words I could find nothing that he didn’t have the answer to. This mystified me because I haven’t encountered anything like this before; I am agnostic by nature. I have not only not had any experience with encounter groups or Esalen or any of these things-most of those things I had rejected as a kind of group-and-grope session where the leader was no more knowledgeable than the people in the class. I unconsciously steered away from them.

After attending the conference of dentists, Nirvana attended one discourse then decided to stay for another, then another, then another, for the next two weeks.  He and  Nisha had a short holiday in the south and returned to do the groups that Osho had suggested .. ..

Veet Nirvana: I nearly walked out of the Enlightenment intensive group; but before the second day was over I was beginning to see the light with the help of the two leaders, and overall it was delightful. I had three days of absolutely happy and blissful meditation, by myself mostly, walking down by the river.  I’ve never been more happy in my life than after that enlightenment intensive.

I went into the encounter group not knowing what it would be like. I realised that I had some fears and some uncertainties, and many things from my past began to come out. About the third or fourth day I had a catharsis through Teertha, whom I love so much, next to Osho. I found that sometimes I wasn’t participating in the group as I should have been: I was sitting on the edge observing and I was totally amazed at what Teertha could do with the products of our broken homes and disruptive childhoods and all the battles, from our civilised society. I had such admiration for him that he made it possible for me to surrender to Osho; I did it through To Teertha. In a sense I surrendered first to Teertha. I had such confidence in him that I knew whatever I did, he could handle it and bring me out of it.

Veet Nirvana: Yes, I am.  I realise the need here. So many people, when they find your a dentist say’ Oh yes, I’ve got this here..’ (demonstrating people showing him their various cavities)!  Immediately I see there is a need here for people, and I want to bring to them the best in dental care, because this is the place you come to for the best in everything; there’s no such thing as second-rate here. I wrote to Osho asking him what I should do and told him briefly of my circumstances. He just wrote back’ see Laxmi. By then I began to think they little about what I could do and so went to see Laxmi and said,’ I’d like to come here and help you do what I can. I want to do this as a total surrender to Osho, coming without anything but myself and all that I can scrape together of material worth. I want to lay myself before him and the ashram and do whatever I can-dentistry. I’m not limited to dentistry but dentistry is the vehicle I feel for my being here.’

Maneesha: How does it feel to think of yourself two weeks before, perhaps totally oblivious that calling in here to a lecture of Osho was going to change your life so much.

Veet Nirvana: Two weeks ago this was absolutely the last thing in the world that I would have thought could happen to me?  I have no question about what I’m doing. I have no knowledge of what I’m doing, I don’t know what the future holds, but I don’t worry in the least about it. I think that all that has gone behind, the past, has been in preparation for this and I feel just overjoyed by the whole thing.

Maneesha: Do you feel any specific changes have happened for you since you’ve been sannyasin?

Veet Nirvana: It’s very difficult to see. I am much more moderate.  8I’ve been an extremist and I find that I’m much more moderate and I think I have more patience and understanding. Other than that I don’t know what specifically to tell you. I haven’t really analysed myself-I don’t take time to analyse. I guess I just want to go on doing and enduring enjoying what I’m doing. Life is happier than it’s ever been so I haven’t asked myself why.

Maneesha: Can you recall your first impressions of Osho?

Veet Nirvana: I think awe would be the best description of how I feel about him. I took Darshan just two or three days after I’d been here and just sat in awe before him. I heard his words but I didn’t remember much. I was in a kind of daze  ..  I think that’s the best term for it.  I have much respect and love for him that has grown out of that. I’m just totally happy in his presence. I found myself thinking this morning,’ I would just love to sit in his presence once a day for an hour and a half and listen to him speak, and then the rest of my day is going to be just as smooth as can be‘.  With the serenity that comes from hearing the discourses I know that there’s no problem a patient can bring me that I can’t help them with.

Osho mystified me. I see him as an omnipotent force that manifests itself in a human form-but that is something beyond my comprehension. I don’t think the human mind is able to comprehend his true meaning or his true being. He validates my feeling about the totality of the universe and others beyond the oneness of everything that we are part of.

Maneesha: Was there any dilemma for you having seen yourself as an irreligious person as you call it, and feeling attracted to what was going on here? Or don’t you see Osho in terms of ‘religion’?

Veet Nirvana: No, his explanations of the difference between religion and being religious are so lucid to me that I’m thankful I have never been a’ religious’ person. I’ve got less garbage to get rid of than had I been a devout Christian.

Maneesha: Will you talk about your experiences of Darshan?

Veet Nirvana: I enjoyed the last Darshan more than the previous one and I enjoyed that one more than the one before it. And that’s my experience with Osho in the discourses to. It seems that every experience I have had with him or with the ashram has been more profound, more pleasurable, happier, than the previous one. With each experience I say,’ Well, I can’t have anything happier than this !’and yet it keeps on building up, building up, and there is no apparent letdown to this. Its mystifying if I try to analyse it but I don’t: I just enjoy it and accept it as beautiful.

Maneesha: How do you feel aboutt the ashram? Do you feel a part of what is happening here?

Veet Nirvana: I feel a part of the family. Since I made the decision to give up things and come here, I immediately began to feel fondness for everyone here-even the transients, the freaks. There was a detachment from people before I did groups here. I just didn’t feel involved. I didn’t feel like an outsider but there just wasn’t any association with people.

Now I feel that I can be completely as I am and that people will accept me-which is one of the things I have had a problem with all my years in the past. I’ve been a rebel against so many things that I just felt I couldn’t be, didn’t want to be a part of.

Maneesha: Do you feel that Osho’s message is for everyone .. ..that it’s going to spread and become a really tremendous thing?

Veet Nirvana: Oh, yes, yes. I think he is the only hope that civilisation has. I believe entirely what he says about the destruction of civilisation; I see it coming .. ..I’ve seen it coming for a long while. If there’s any hope, it’s going to be through this group (of sannyasins). If we can get more people involved, carry the message back to more people so that they will come and learn or see the way .. …..And this is the way;. There is no hope except through Osho that our civilisation is not going to be destroyed. Everyone must realise that there is nothing that they do each day that doesn’t affect the whole. They may not see the connection between what we do here in Poona and what happens back in the States, but it’s all interrelated.

People are screwing things up at such a rapid rate that it’s going to take a very large movement to undo the damage that we’ve done. And it’s going to come only through us, through a multitude of us coming here, putting ourselves before Osho and listening to his words which we must live then. I am so enthusiastic about being here that I have a feeling my quest is over in one sense but it’s just beginning in another. So while I have found, I have not found .. ..I’m really just beginning. I’m so filled with joy about this that I can’t tell you in words.

AUGUST 12 th. 1977.

[nancydhooper]

The Enduring Harms of Trump’s Muslim Ban

As the Trump presidency draws to an end, we near the 4-year anniversary of the birth of one of its defining and most damning legacies: the Muslim ban. When Trump implemented his first Muslim ban, the public response was immediate. Crowds of protesters flooded airports in support of Muslims and other impacted communities who were immediately being detained or turned away all over the country. Lawyers and immigrants’ rights organizations nationwide, including the ACLU, filed a series of lawsuits as court after court ruled to block the ban. Despite the backlash, Trump issued new iterations of the ban to circumvent the law and conceal its real purpose, which in his own words was to block Muslims from entering the United States. Ultimately, the Supreme Court allowed the third iteration of the ban to be implemented. The Trump administration then further expanded the ban, explicitly targeting Africans. As a result, people from 13 countries still remain barred from coming to the U.S. Four years after the Muslim ban became a reality, families still remain separated, people are unable to celebrate life events or mourn the loss of loved ones, and dreams are faltering for millions of people worldwide. The stories of Neda, Anwar, Farah, and Haya show us how the Muslim ban has derailed lives and will continue to do so until President-elect Biden rescinds the ban. 

FARAH

Photo by Katherine Taylor

Throughout my life, it’s never been easy for an Iranian person to come to the U.S. through the usual channels that a person of any other nationality would be able to go through without hassle. It has always been a super scrutinizing process. The background checks can take up to a year even for a simple visitor visa. I know this process very well, since I have been trying to bring my parents here for almost a decade.  My sister and I moved to the U.S. in 2011 for a better life and to join our brother who had moved to the States four years prior. Ten years later, my brother is a dentist, my sister is an architect, and I am an attorney. We have all built lives and families here. My parents have never been able to enjoy our success because they cannot be with us.  In 2017, my brother finally became a U.S. citizen, and we were so excited to bring my parents over through a family-based immigration process. By the time we could apply, the Muslim ban went into effect and we had to kind of give up any hope on getting my parents here. At the same time, it was so scary because of the uncertainty about what it meant and how it would affect people. My siblings and I spoke with various attorneys, and nobody knew anything. That was the scariest part, just not knowing how the ban would affect everyone. We decided to try applying for them anyway, hoping that the ACLU and other amazing attorneys would be able to get the ban overturned at the Supreme Court. Four years later, we are still separated because of the Muslim ban.  My parents have had to miss so much in our lives. I’ve been with my husband for 8 years and married to him for 2 and my parents have never met him. They have never met my brother’s wife either. They had to attend our weddings and graduations via FaceTime. I know it’s difficult for them, not knowing when or whether they will ever see their children again, but they try not to show it. They’re hopeful that things will change at some point and they’ll be able to come here and meet all these important people in our lives. 

I love America and its people. But I wish we would look at Muslims and other people perceived as different as people instead of attaching qualities or preconceived notions to them. It’s very cliche, but that’s the first step in understanding anybody outside your own little bubble. If we’re going to change anything for the better, that’s where it has to come from — trying to understand people who don’t necessarily look like you or have the same religion.  What I miss most about my parents is their constant bickering. They are best friends, and cannot be away from one another for more than two seconds. They’ve been married for over 40 years and they never run out of things to talk, laugh, and bicker about. They have set an example that I’ve spent my whole life finding — that friendship in marriage.  For the past eight years, my in-laws have been my surrogate parents here, and I can’t wait to put those two sets of parents together and just watch them interact. My parents’ English is not amazing, but I’m sure they can communicate through the language of love. I can’t wait. There are so many places we want to take my parents and so many people we want them to meet. It’s been so long and it feels so unattainable. I get emotional just thinking about it. Note: ‘Farah’ is a pseudonym used to protect her privacy.

ANWAR

Anwar and his children, Nadra and Mazeen.

A few years ago, I was announced a winner in the American immigration lottery. I then began a long and tiring journey to get my visa. The war in Yemen made the process extremely difficult. Many airports and government buildings were closed. In order to get my passport, I had to move as fast as I could through militant-controlled areas to reach the city of Maarib. Along the road, there were checkpoints where soldiers would investigate passengers and verify IDs and travel plans. The journey took more than 16 hours Once we had our passports, my wife and I sold all of our possessions and borrowed money from friends so we could travel to Djibouti because there is no American embassy in Yemen. It was a challenge just to get there. Travelers from Yemen must first go to Egypt or Sudan to get entry visas from an embassy in Cairo or Khartoum.  After I finally arrived in Djibouti, I spent six months awaiting my visa. During that time, I lost my job and spent all the money I had saved. I was miserable because I had pledged to repay my friends as soon as I arrived in America. And then I got a rejection letter in the mail. My visa was denied because of the Muslim ban. 

I had dreamed that my two young children, Nadra and Mazeen, would get to live away from the war and poverty in Yemen, that they would get an education and build a wonderful future. But we are still living in Yemen, where the state of the country is deteriorating every day. Now, thinking about the future frustrates us. It feels as if our dreams are slipping away, and we fear we may find ourselves unable to educate our children or provide them with food and medicine.  Still, we are hopeful that the Muslim ban will be lifted. We trust America, its constitutional institutions, and the justice system. We want the new American government to hear our voices and rescind this ban retroactively so that my lottery visa is not lost. I am optimistic that they will. Coming to America would help me guarantee a safe life for my family and a bright future for my children. 

HAYA

I was in high school when President Trump started talking about banning Muslims during his campaign. As a Syrian American, I had become accustomed to the discriminatory immigration system, especially after 9/11. But here was Trump literally saying, I’m going to ban Muslims, live on TV. Just hearing those words was confirmation that people like me and my family are not equal. It felt like violence.  The words hurt, but I didn’t think Trump was being serious. I thought it was all for show. Even if he tried to enforce a ban, I was sure that some court would block it. There was just no way I could imagine America enforcing the ban, even though it basically just put onto paper all the discriminatory immigration policies my family had been dealing with since 9/11.  So I was horrified when, just a few days after he took office, he made his Muslim ban a reality by signing the executive order. I was a senior in high school at the time — just a few months away from graduating. Because of the Muslim ban, my parents and 14-year-old sister could not get visas, so I had to attend my graduation alone. It was traumatic for me emotionally, to be physically separated from my family at a time like that. And I couldn’t even communicate with them freely because where they live, there’s no freedom of speech. So if I talk about politics on WhatsApp, for example, I could put them in jeopardy. It was just a really bad separation, and I felt it deeply. 

I am the only U.S. citizen in my immediate family. My parents came here from Syria to build a better life, one free of oppression. Due to my dad’s job, however, we had to relocate a few years later back to the Middle East. There, I spent much of my childhood living between Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates, visiting family and friends in Syria for holidays or special occasions. When the war in Syria broke out in 2011, though, that became increasingly difficult. After the Muslim ban became a reality, we felt trapped. We couldn’t return to Syria because of the war. We couldn’t live permanently in Saudi Arabia or the UAE because we are not Saudis or Emiratis. Now we could not go to the U.S. — at least, not as a family. We were stuck. Out of desperation, my parents decided to reach out to distant family members in Canada and see if we could immigrate there as refugees. That’s where we are today.  I am currently in university, studying political science. When I first wrote to the ACLU in 2018, I said I couldn’t believe that a country that prides itself on its commitment to freedom and justice would close its doors on refugees and immigrants seeking help. I knew that was not what America was supposed to be. That’s why I am optimistic that the new administration will rescind the Muslim ban and restore hope to families like mine that have been separated for too long. It would be an important first step in reforming racist immigration policies, especially from the post-9/11 era. I dream that one day, the country I was born into will treat me as equal instead of discriminating based on nationality and religion. 

NEDA

I am a member of the Baha’i faith, a religious minority that faces discrimination in my home country of Iran. I immigrated to the U.S. because I wanted to live in a place where I would not be discriminated against because of my name or religious customs. For the past several years, I have worked as a caregiver for elderly patients.  When the Muslim ban was announced, I did not think I would be affected because I am a U.S. citizen and I am not Muslim. A few months later, when I applied for a visa to bring my fiancé here, I learned that I was wrong. My application was rejected immediately. I didn’t know it was possible to be treated this way in America. I was used to facing discrimination in Iran, but discrimination feels different when you’re not in your birth country.  I’ve now been trying for years to bring my fiancé here. Most recently he had an interview at the U.S. consulate in Istanbul. I was hopeful that this time we would be successful and went to meet him there. But the consulate just gave me a waiver and told me to apply again. I filled out all the paperwork again and still, I am waiting. My fiancé and I were supposed to be married by now and living in America, our new home. Instead, we are stuck in limbo, still separated because of the Muslim ban. 

The past few years have been mentally exhausting. Every time immigration officers tell me to do this or that, I have to get a lawyer, I have to do interviews, I have to pay a lot of money. I have friends and family who have gone through much worse because of the Muslim ban. One of my friends had a baby, and her mother could not get here to be by her side for the birth, even though she had a visa. My niece was hospitalized after a car accident and her husband, who was in Iran, was not able to come. A lot of families are separated, with one part here, another part there, unable to reunite during difficult times. At work, a lot of my coworkers know about the problem with my fiancé. They keep asking if there’s news, if he got here yet. And when I say no, they always say sorry. I don’t want to keep hearing the word sorry. I don’t want to be treated differently. I just want to be a citizen like everybody else. It’s my right to live here with my fiancé. I have no choice but to keep trying. I won’t give up.  Note: ‘Neda’ is a pseudonym used to protect her privacy.

from RSSMix.com Mix ID 8247012 https://www.aclu.org/news/immigrants-rights/the-enduring-harms-of-trumps-muslim-ban via http://www.rssmix.com/

[a-scattered-memory]

Enchanted

For @usikuagani, it’s me, your Secret Santa in @boku-no-secret-santa‘s gift exchange! Hope you enjoy it and happy holidays!!

Title:Enchanted

Words: 2025

Pairings: none

Warnings: mild violence

Summary: In a fantasy AU, Kirishima seeks Deku’s help to bring a bewitched Bakugou back to his senses.(*I'm basing eveyone's outfits and weapons on the 3rd anime ending and tried to adjust everyone's quirks so that it fit in with a kind of rpg role while still having similarities with their quirk)

“I’m telling you Midoriya, there’s seriously something up with him.”

Kirishima’s mouth curved into a tight frown as he made his way through the dense forestry with Izuku at his side. His jaw clenched at the sharp breeze that ruffled the rusty orange scarf tied around his neck

“But, why me? If anything I’d be the last person he’d want to see.” Izuku’s expression mirrored Kirishima’s though his eyes were downcast in contrast with his friend’s fixed forward gaze and worry was more prominent in his features.

“That’s exactly why it has to be you. I’ve already tried to get through to him but nothing I do is working.” His gaze drifted down to the fresh dressing on his arm which he had subconsciously started rubbing. “But maybe you can provoke a stronger reaction in him, even if it isn’t exactly a good one. I know we can get through to him if we try together.”

Izuku’s gaze followed Kirishima’s to the covered wound and then to his troubled demeanour. He didn’t doubt his friend for a second, he knew Kirishima wasn’t the sort to take a joke about something like this so far and it was very seldom that he wasn’t very vocally boisterous and uplifting when faced with a problem. Izuku fixed his own expression into a confident smile and nodded, balling up a gloved fist in determination in an effort to raise Kirishima’s spirits and bring him some ease of mind.

“You’re right! I may not know exactly what we’re dealing with yet, but as long as he has a friend like you looking out for him like this, I’m sure we can bring him back to himself!”

Kirishima’s eyes met Izuku’s face and he could only blink in astonishment, almost flustered and taken aback at his sudden shift in disposition. After a moment, a wide, sharp-toothed grin graced his face in response, he playfully hit Izuku’s shoulder.

“Those are some really manly words, right there! I like it!”

The boys had originally grown up with Bakugou though as they had gotten older, he had become somewhat of a recluse and very much a tribesman who had distanced himself quite a bit from his tribe which lived in the vicinity of Kirishima and Izuku’s small village. Even at this though, Kirishima insisted in seeking him out most days, usually with the village lightning mage Kaminari. He always had a bit of a temper, it wouldn’t be Bakugou if he didn’t but as of late his outbursts were violent and far more wrathful. Where before he would yell and maybe throw a rock or two at the pair if they had bothered him, now he barely let them get a word in before he physically attempted to tear into them with his scimitar on site. Not to mention his eyes had taken on a strange amber glaze rather than the crimson shade everyone was used to.

“This is it, right?” Izuku questioned as they came across a small cave. The darkness that accompanied the shelter it provided ensured that both Kirishima and Izuku couldn’t see too far inside. They could however see the glowing embers of a small fire and the smoke rising out from it. He was home, at least. Izuku yelped as Kirishima pulled him into cover, crouching behind a boulder.

“Alright, we need some sort of plan.” The two looked at each other expectantly and then simultaneously deflated. When did they ever come up with a plan that actually worked, let alone stick with them all the way through. Their best ‘plan’ was usually improvisation, even in the best of scenarios. Kirishima drew his daggers from their scabbards and tossed them from hand to hand idly.

Most people were born with a natural elemental affinity or talent that determined the role they would take up in society, many of which hoped to use theirs so that they could become guardians of the realm, just like the biggest and bravest warriors of their time that kept their people safe and a smile on their faces. Of course if in the very slim chance that you don’t acquire a special trait in your youth, it’s safe to say that you’ll live your days as an ordinary layperson who might take up merchantry or something akin to it. Regardless of whichever category you fit into, once you reach your twelfth birthday you receive a tool unique to you which will assist you in your life ahead and help you overcome whatever trials you may face. This tool could range from a pair of shears or a blacksmith’s anvil to a mighty shield or greatsword. Whatever you were gifted with, only you could truly work it to its full potential and no matter how many times you may lose it, it would always find its way back to you. Clutching a dagger in each hand,

Kirishima put his faith in his blades to guide him as they always had. Beside him Midoriya, who had also been lost in thought with a hand to his chin, turned to him. Kirishima could almost hear the inner monologue of an overwhelming amount of information that Izuku often accidentally mulled over aloud when trying assess how to deal with a situation like this. Creepy as it seemed at times, he was often fascinated by just how much time and dedication Izuku had put into analysing everyone’s individual skills and tools.

That was an aspect of Izuku that he found inspiring for himself personally. As an earth mage, he always felt overshadowed by the abundance of people with flashier powers like Kaminari’s lightning or the nobleman Todoroki’s command over fire and ice and couldn’t help but compare himself to them. And even though Izuku’s strength could be flashy in certain occasions, the fact that he was able to remain so useful through the plethora of information he had gathered provided a sort of motivation to him to fine tune himself both mentally and physically so that in most any situation, he’d be able to help someone, even just one person, as well.

“Have you tried creating a rift or crater beneath him,”Izuku’s expression became lighter as he began relaying his ideas.

“Yeah, but he either sees them coming or - MIDORIYA WATCH OUT!!”

Kirishima grabbed onto his white shirt sleeve and leapt backwards from the boulder with him just as orange flames licked around its edges. Immediately as he touched the ground, Kirishima erected a earthen wall between. They sat momentarily, staring at the wall and still caught up in shock, a brief respite which they were promptly snapped out of by the onset of another blaze against the wall. The pair scrambled to their feet and fled out into the open area in front of the cave.

“You alright?” Kirishima asked, peering at Izuku’s torn sleeve.

“Yeah,” he replied absent-mindedly, scanning the area for anything of use.

“Midoriya,” Kirishima’s calm and clear call to him was accompanied with his signature smirk and confident offensive stance, eyes trained on Bakugou’s movements. “Let’s see just how manly you can be.”

Izuku’s attention turned to Kirishima at this and upon seeing his contagious determination, returned his self-assured smirk and adjusted himself into a battle stance of his own.

“Same to you.”

The quick exchange of support came to an end as a shot of fire parted the two and they dodged in opposite directions. Izuku could see exactly what Kirishima was talking about now. Bakugou could have an outrageous temper, especially where Izuku was concerned, but he wasn’t so impetuous as to start a full on assault on them without rhyme or reason. More than that, his actions were chaotic and incompetent, lacking any of the usual skill and technique that Bakugou so prided himself on. It may have been Bakugou Katsuki in body, but certainly not in mind.

Now there had him in between them both and Bakugou had a choice; continue to unleash his rage upon his childhood rival or his closest friend. The decision was perfectly clear as he locked eyes with Kirishima, recognising the threat from his previous encounters and drew his scimitar from its scabbard to the back of his waist. Quick on his feet he raced for him, ragged red cape flowing wildly in his stead. Kirishima readied his daggers and the shrill sound of metal clashing against metal echoed around them. Swings and slashes were repeated in sequence, the same ear-splitting shriek sounding with each parry. Kirishima’s endurance was wearing thinner with each successive blow. He desperately needed to construct another barrier between them to give him a chance to gather himself again but the relentless onslaught left him with nary a second to even think. Izuku detected this in him too and charge at him, sword drawn.

“Kacchan!”

His yell alerted Bakugou to his attack in time for him to react, dodging and backing away from Kirishima in the process. Attention now shifted to the smaller boy, he continued his attack with the same viciousness as before. Right up close now, Izuku noticed the sickening amber of his friend’s eyes, completely devoid of rationality, gleaming with malice.

Kirishima’s mind raced as he caught his breath and decided to revert to strategy he had tried before that might just work now with Izuku’s help.

“Midoriya, I need you to keep that up for a little while longer and when I say move, jump as far away as you can!”

Through pants and grunts he managed an ‘alright’, eyes never leaving Bakugou. Kirishima studied Bakugou’s movements for a couple of seconds longer before giving the signal, only for an extra quick strike from Bakugou to stall Izuku’s evasion. Now, instead of just Bakugou being trapped in a cage made of rock, Izuku was caught inside with him.

“Crap! I’m so sorry!” Kirishima watched on in desperation as the fighting had briefly paused after the disruption. It didn’t take long for the conflict to recommence the shock wore off. Izuku was growing exasperated at this stage

“Snap out of it, Kachaan,” he screamed in frustration and defiance, hoping that some part of it would reach him, even if it was hate and distaste for him.

“Deku, you piece of shit. Don’t tell me..what to do..”

Both Kirishima’s and Izuku’s eyes widened and a smile was brought back to Kirishima’s face. That was him! That was Bakugou there was no doubt about it! He was still in there, they could still get true to him somehow!

Bakugou stalled and staggered, in conflict with himself, a hand clutching his head while the other gripped his blade’s hilt even tighter. It was at that moment that Kirishima caught it. The dark glow emitted from a small claw on one of the tribal necklaces around his neck. Now that he thought of it, that was a new one he had made recently, wasn’t it?

“Midoriya, his necklace, there’s something up with it!”

Knowing he was too short on time to figure out which one and probably lacked the precision at that time anyway, Izuku swiftly brought the blade down on the threads, strings and beads scattering on the ground, followed shortly by Bakugou himself.

“I couldn’t make sure I’d definitely cut them all without grazing the skin,” Midoriya added abashedly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“And that’s how he really got that mark on his chest,” Kirishima chimed in, a huge smile spread on his face though some would swear there was a smirk mixed in.

The group of friends were gathered around a bright fire as they told stories into the night. Of course precautionary methods had been taken before the storytellers told their tale and a certain blonde sat between Tokoyami and Kaminari, bound with all sorts of materials, from ice, to rock to steel and he was absolutely fuming.

“IM GONNA KILL YOU KIRISHIMA YOU ASS I’M GONNA KILL YOU DEAD!!”

No one doubted that for one second after what they had just heard, despite the lengths that both him and Izuku had gone to for him. But hey, that was tomorrow’s problem.

[jimlingss]

FuCkInG jIMLINGSSSS!!!! YOU DID THAT!!!! AHHHHHHHHHHHH AYSKTSKGSNFZNGZNFSKTD I'M CURRENTLY ON THE SUBWAY SO I CAN'T OUTWARDLY FREAK OUT AS MUCH AS I WANT TO ABOUT THIS I AM D Y I N G OHMYGOD AS SOON AS I READ THIS I'M GONNA BE ON👏THE👏FLOOR👏 JESUS CHRIST!!!!!!! I'M BOUTTA REREAD THE 1ST 2 CHAPTERS SO I COULD APPRECIATE THIS IN ALL OF IT'S GLORY AHHH NO WARNING EITHER!!!! (which was probably the best way because i am s h o c k e d, i 10000% was not expecting that rn aldjfjsk i love surprises!!)

[Potential Spoilers Below]

You are literally so sweet! I really don’t know what I would do without you and your messages :’) Your encouragement is my gasoline, I swear.

myjeansareonfire said:JIMLINGSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS I WANNA CRY WHY AM I SUCH AN EMOTIONAL BEAN?!?!?!?!?!?!? ESPECIALLY SEEING THAT PICTURE OF THEM AT THE END BEFORE THE EPILOGUE AKDJDHEKSKDBSNAJ I'M D E A D AHHH JIMINGS!!! 😭😭😭😭 Damn, what can i even say? You've rendered me speechless, speechless!!!!!!!!! This.. Has probably got to be my.. Third or fourth favorite thing you've ever written. Definitely in the top 5! Yes you have other writing that's more eloquent & beautiful & well thought out & descriptive but (1/11)

oh wow. one of your top favourites? You know, I would try to be surprised but I’m not cause it was also one of the funnest things I’ve ever written haha. I was laughing and hollering while writing and that never happens. It also wasn’t a struggle to edit and I wrote it in record time. Honestly, who knew the fic would work out considering I did 0 planning and pulled all of it out of my ass. rofl.

ahhh the character's relationships!! Just, the comedy!! The tension!! The originality of the personality created for each member! The heart warming parts! How despite the fact that it is labeled a crack fic, yoongi's always keeping it real!! 😭😭 ahh i literally can't imagine how he went through all he went through & endured all that he endured, he really really /really/ had to be in love with y/n, & that had to have been from the beginning! There's so much he'd put up w/even before y/n (2/11)

knew he was a boy like ahh & HOW IS Y/N SO DENSE?? LIKE??? I JUST WANTED TO SHAKE HER & YELL IN HER FACE AND BE LIKE Y O O N G I F U C K I N G L I K E S Y O U THIS BOY IS IN L O V E WITH YOU!!! Every time jimin came into the picture and she was like HERE'S THE LOVE OF MY LIFE i was like uhmm?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!? Really, girl?? It's gon be like that?? Gah! So frustrating T_T she's testosterone has been... Such a great fic. Definitely worth the wait!!! I would've waited even longer for this! :D (3/11)

you could've dropped this in 2019 & i still would've been like yES OH BOY HERE WE GOOOOO asdfghjkl. She's testosterone... Is like a Perfect™ fic. It's so funny it makes you wanna piss yourself. The second hand embarrassment is so bad you have to hide your face because you're turning beat red too! (Is that you you spell beat?! Beet???) The fluff parts are so /good/ whenever they happen you're just like yES!!! It's like, you know when you're reading something, and there's these 2 characters (4/11)

Frankly, She’s Testosterone is the best comedy I’ve ever been able to do haha my sense of humour can’t get any better than that in writing. I also realllllly despise reading dense characters cause I want to scream like you ‘ARE YOU BLIND?!’ but it was actually really amusing being on the writing side of it. I’ve never written a dense character before - (hint, hint) in one of my future fics they’ll be another slightly dense OC but that’s to come :3

also I think it’s beet red? hahaha omg I’m always afraid that my fluff is cringey but whelp it’s good for the ‘crackness’ of the fic.

you really like and something is like about to Happen™ and you're like DEAR LORD IT'D BE SO FREAKEN GREAT IF [BLANK] HAPPENS and then BAM!!!! you make it happen!!! It's like you've read the reader's mind and then as you were reading their mind you wrote it! Lmao! You gave us everything we could've wanted 😭😭😭 this fic is like everyone's guilty pleasure there's no holding back, you've indulged us with all our wildest dreams ;-; (5/11)

This fic is everything i ever could've asked for& everything i didn't even think about asking for😭& listen idk if this is a latino thing but i love that approval from the parents!! It really warms my heart!! Gah! &the way yoongi was so ready in his nice white button down & nice pants & waxed hair!! That boy was dressed to impress! & i LOVED HOW Y/N'S PARENTS WERE JUST LIKE HER AKDJSHS YOU COULD SEE EXACTLY WHERE HER PERSONALITY CAME FROM😭😭i'm not gonna lie her dad made me rlly emotional(6/11)

like wow what a nice dad ;~; anD HOSEOK'S CHARACTER I LITERALLY LOVED HIM SO MUCH he was so funny!!!!!!! I could feel his passion! Everytime those tears started falling i was like yes👏ho👏seok👏 let it all out boy! 😭👏🙏🙌 i love passionate people! 😂 even if they're ridiculously passionate ajdhsk passion is good! & jin's character! Loved how he was like this untouchable conceited person but after finding y/n crying we pretty much saw he's as much of a weirdo as everyone else 😂(7/11) 

jimin was too much for me tbh i was like boy wHERE IS YOUR DOWNFALL?! (tho that ending was hella cute he really is too pure for this world) and namJOOOOOOOOOOON my boy!! I love namjoon so much ajdkdjg and his character in this story had me on the flooooor he was like the exact opposite of how people usually write him! And i loved it!!! Okay moving on to jungkook that boooooyyy every time he spoke i just glared at him in my head and face palmed he was so sHy such a smol shy bean stop acting(8/11)

Your message is making my heart so warm. If you also notice through my writing, most of the parents (aside from The Wicked Witch) are really nice, approving parents. I do that because of 2 reasons. #1 - ‘The parents trying to rip the kids apart’ trope really pisses me off hahahaha I get so upset and angry as the reader/audience so I never write it. #2 - My own parents would never be so accepting so at least the parents of my characters can be nicer ahaha.

The image of Yoongi dressing up for her parents that you described is exactly like that. I also intentionally tried to make her parents similar to her, give the family the ‘silly village idiot’ vibe haha. Also, writing Jin’s character was one of the biggest things I struggled with since I didn’t know what to basis it off of and I had to go back to watch the vapp episode, I managed in the end though and I’m glad you liked him :3

Oh Jimin....I have no words for him as the writer lol. AND YES NAMJOON! He is my favourite character in the fic by far. Everyone writes him as smart or philosophical, sometimes a sly ‘daddy’ playboy/fratboy but I never knew it would be so hilarious to write him as a complete idiot. Honestly, I might write a fic like that later in the future hahahahahhaha.

like you don't care everyone can see through your act! & OKAY THIS IS TOTALLY IRRELEVANT(well kind of)but i'm not a big shipper between the members, & consequently i don't read a lot of mxm fics but my friend is like OBSESSED with taekook & recently she's been sending me a lot of domestic taekook fics & i read them & love them all cuz they're just so cute!! 😭😭 domestic things in general really pull at my heart strings ;-; so THAT BIT OF IMPLIED TAEKOOK FEELS AT THE END really hit me!! 😭(9/11)

right in my corazon ;-; also, i /totally/ wholeheartedly shipped tae and y/n for like a solid five minutes and i was like LET THEM END UP TOGETHER OR LET /SOMETHING/ HAPPEN but then yoongi swooped back in and i was fully loyal to my y/n x yoongi feels. IDK IF YOU CAN TELL but i really freaking loved and enjoyed this fic, and i know it's gonna be one of those fics that i go back and reread over and over again. This fic had me cringing, laughing, (10/11)

Ah, personally I’m okay with shipping (pretty neutral towards it) but yeah, I don’t read too many mxm fics either. There’s a reason I threw it in. BECAUSE I WAS EXACTLY LIKE YOU! I was writing Tae and the OC and it was supposed to be a way where Yoongi would get lowkey jealous but as I was writing, I thought....wow the OC and Tae are kind of cute together....they should like end up together and then I was like NOOOOO THAT’S NOT PART OF THE PLAN! It broke my heart to make Tae end up by himself so I was thinking about the other characters and I thought Jungkook was the perfect fit, despite their characters being very odd with each other haha.

slapping knees, burying my face into pillows screaming, squealing, & had me making my family thoroughly question my sanity! I want to say that i'm sad that it's over, but i don't think i am! At least not right now 😂 i'm on a reading high, & that was great! Later i'll probably be wishing i could indulge in their adventures forevermore, but for now, i am very, very happy & content with this perfect piece of writing :') bless you, jimlings! & Thank you so so much for sharing this with us!❤(11/11)

Thank you so much. Your message has made my heart warm. I hope whatever you’re celebrating this holiday season, you’ll have a good time.

Are you... Are you serious?!?! 18??? Same day.... Same year!! We're exactly the same age aksjfhskdlsb i'm dead

:O I guess we’re same aged friends!! COOOL!