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itwasntimethatdidit40 · 28 days ago

Text

Something Rotten

Pairing: Dark!QZ Joel x afab!reader x Dark!QZ Tess

Words count: 4300 (more or less)

Rating: + 18, absolutely NSFW. This shit is triggering, read the tags carefully and please if your a minor don’t interact.

Warnings/Tags: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, smut, heavy degradation, kidnapping, reader is tied to the bed with a rope, mention of strong painkillers, depressing thoughts, both Joel and Tess are EVIL, mention of offering sex in exchange for protection, Dub-con/non-con (well, she’s into that and I made sure to say that she’s deeply aroused but still), no kindness whatsoever, face slapping, being threatened with a gun and knife, blood, wound (Tess writes a word on Reader's body with a knife), pussy slapping, tits slapping, oral (m receiving), deep throating, scissoring, slurs (whore, slut), pet names (honey, baby, pet, kitten), mention of Robert (you know that prick at the beginning of the series who makes Tess get beaten up? That's him. but anyway he is the least of the problems in this thing), ripped panties, orgasm denial, cum eating, hair pulling, reader has hair that can be pulled, no other description of her is given, I think it’s all but I will be sure to add anything I may have forgotten as soon as I can.

A/N: Happy Halloween! This is indeed a nightmare of a fic LOL

Ok, enough, I'm getting serious again. I know it’s a lot, please don't read if you don't feel comfortable with those kind of things. I've never written anything like this before, it was a test for me because those who read me know, I'm usually very soft. I've started writing the second part if anyone wants to read it, I preferred to publish this first because it was getting pretty long (And I honestly want to see how this one goes before I continue lol). Sorry if you find any errors, I hope there aren't too many. I don't have a beta, I reread it but my eyes are exhausted at this point 💀 (English is not my first language, you know that, right? lol)

Again, no one is obligated to read but I wanted to thank those who provided me with the songs I listened to while writing this: @magneticecstasy @hoelaris @lovely-vamp-princess @baronessvonglitter @whocaresstillthelouvre and @almostempty for having called together her trusted connoisseurs 😎, you all are truly amazing ♥️ (Something Rotten is a Placebo song I added between your amazing music advices).

Playlist can be found here.

(While we're at it, if anyone would like to be tagged on my fics in the future, let me know, thank you very much!)

Thanks to anyone who reads this!

Archive tags: @pedrostories ♥️

“Now what should we do with you?” Tess’s voice is sharp, with a smug undertone.

“Maybe we should get rid of her.” Joel is just as blunt, smiling wickedly as he watches you shake like a leaf.

There’s obvious disappointment painted on your face, as well as fear of what these two might do to you.

——————————————————-

You know Joel and Tess, everyone in the QZ knows them, at least everyone trying to make ends meet like you.

They’re the most skilled smugglers and also the most ruthless.

No one would want to have them as enemies, but you, due to circumstances beyond your control, just tried to steal some of their supplies. You heard they had just left the Qz to stock up, apparently they know someone outside.

You thought you were safe. Turned out you were wrong, they came back sooner than you expected.

You wouldn’t have made such a bold move if it weren’t for the fact that Robert died, killed by Tess, as far as you know.

You and Robert had a relationship, if you could call it that, he gave you protection in exchange for sex. You didn't like Robert, to be honest, guy was a piece of shit himself, but he was the lesser evil. He was generally stupid and driven by his dick rather than his brain so it was pretty easy for you to please him and make sure he kept you safe from the unrestrained FEDRA soldiers, who are anything but devoted to rules and discipline, and you never lacked food while you were with him, much more than some people in this seedy Qz had.

Batting your eyelashes and giving him head every now and then was enough to have what you needed.

Robert was a gun runner, people feared him, everyone except Joel and Tess who thought he was an incompetent and arrogant moron.

They weren't entirely wrong but everyone in this shithole of a place survives as best they can.

You should have relied on your own strength from the beginning but when you arrived here you were so tired, hurt, heartbroken from having lost all the people you cared about that leaning on someone seemed like an acceptable compromise.

You were desperate again after losing Robert, so hungry you barely remembered how food really tastes.

You snuck into their room, cursing your stomach that was growling loudly. You held your breath as the door creaked open to reveal a rather bare, makeshift mini-apartment. No one was there, so you tiptoed around looking for something edible. You noticed a floorboard that was a bit off. Bingo.

You lifted it up and found a stash of dried meat, along with several bags of pills and a gun.

You took some pills that you recognized as strong painkillers, just in case you might need them.

Your hand shook as you pulled out the plastic bag full of dried meat, your stomach giving you no respite.

And just as you were about to take a bite, you heard some noises.

Shit.

You looked around nervously for a place to hide but to no avail. The bed was resting on bricks and barely rose from the floor, too little room to slide under. There were no closets, no dressers or anything.

Shit.

You were screwed.

The footsteps you heard were getting closer and closer and in a total panic, not knowing what else to do, you cowered behind a couch, the dried meat still in your hand while the pills danced in your bra.

You were certain that you would be discovered in no time.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, a cold sweat was breaking out on your forehead. You squeezed your eyes shut in prayer even though you’ve never been a religious person.

Tess saw you first. “What do we have here?” she hissed. Joel caught sight of you next, your head awkwardly poking out from behind the couch.

Stupid stupid stupid.

“A thief,” he stated coldly, as he tugged at your jacket and pulled you out of your hiding place. Tess looked you up and down as you stared at the floor, terrified.

——————————————————-

“What the hell were you trying to do?” she asks you ironically, as if it makes her laugh. In fact, you feel ridiculous for even thinking you could get away with them, it would have been wiser to stay hungry while waiting to earn some cards.

Now you’re in troubles.

Big troubles.

You wanted to get the gun, but you couldn't and now you're standing in front of them, unarmed and scared as the barrel of Joel's gun is grazing at your cheek.

“I asked you a question,” Tess points out, “you better answer it.”

Joel hands the gun to Tess, tears the dried meat out of your hand and shove your arms behind your back, holding you tightly by your wrists, while Tess glares at you.

The gun is now before your eyes, shiny and threatening.

“I… was hungry” and then quickly add a “I’m sorry” that barely escapes your lips.

“So you’ve been working out this brilliant plan?” Joel teases, his deep voice giving you goosebumps.

After Joel suggests taking you out, Tess remains silent for a while, looking at you like a piece of meat “She’s pretty though,” and an even more chilling smile spread across her face, “fuck, you’re too pretty for being a rat”

“Yeah” Joel agrees “here’s a tip for you, honey, if you wanna screw someone try not to let your stupid ass show”

They exchange another knowing glance that doesn't bode well and Tess finally speaks “we could have some fun.”

Guided by self-preservation and fear, you widen your eyes and exclaim, “Oh no, please no!”

Tess places her hand under your chin, manipulating your face like a puppet, turning it left and right to inspect it. “You’re not sick, are you?”

You remain silent and after a few seconds you feel her open hand land on your cheek and an unbearable burning sensation spread across your skin.

What you feel immediately after is the cold steel of the gun under your chin.

“See, she doesn’t like it when people don’t answer her,” Joel whispers in your ear, adding more shivers to the ones already shaking your body.

You open your mouth, struggling to get out some sound. “No” is all you can say.

“Good,” Tess hisses. Joel’s grip on your wrists shows no sign of loosening and your cheek hurts like hell.

There’s no way out.

“Since you were stupid enough to try to sneak in, from now on you will stay here.” Tess announces to you, with a voice that does not allow protests “And you will be our little toy”

She runs a hand over your neck, goes down to your breast and squeezes it hard over your shirt “Do you understand?”

“Yes” you whisper immediately, fearing another blow.

You don’t have enough strength to rebel, you are weak while they are incredibly strong, your head is spinning and you are one against two.

To make sure you don’t get any weird ideas, Joel ties you to the bed. He runs a rope between one of the bricks and the frame of the bed, chuckling evilly, “I’m sorry honey, but I have to, your little head is too imaginative to let you loose in here.” The way he looks at you it’s disturbing, licking his lips in anticipation of what he’ll do to you that night.

He’s not sorry at all.

He can't wait to use you as he wants.

His gaze is intense and dark and you feel like he can get under your skin and read your every thought.

Tess controls Joel's moves, gun still in her hand and when you are completely at their mercy, lying on the bed, with the rope that at most allows you to turn on your back, she bends down to look at you, running the cold steel of gun on your face. You feel tears stinging your eyes as you look at her "oh come on don't do that, after all it's always better than breaking your delicate back with those shitty jobs, right?"

Her mellifluous voice makes you furious, does she think she did you a favor? You would like to spit in her face, on that cold and evil face of hers but you don't.

You can’t.

There's no point in trying to fight back, they'd kill you.

You know that.

They both go off to who knows where and you stay there, waiting, unable to do anything else.

________________________________

It’s the dead of night when the door creaks again and they come back in. Your wrists hurt, you feel stiff, exhausted even though you’ve done nothing but lie there, consumed by fear.

Tess is the first to approach “so kitten, have you been good today?” she coos wickedly and pats your head just like you’re her pet.

You feel a blind rage fill you as she calmly sits on the bed and takes off her boots.

Joel sits on the other side, takes off the dark blue denim shirt he is wearing and unlaces his combat boots.

You are lying on your back now and you crane your neck to watch them.

It’s incredibly frustrating for you to realize that both of your kidnappers are gorgeous.

Tess has a cold beauty, long dark blonde hair framing her face, her lean body reveals itself before your eyes as she takes off her clothes.

She has several scars scattered across her back and arms that make her look even more dangerous, adorning her skin like battle wounds. Battles that somehow she has always won. She’s feral as a lioness and as wicked as a demon.

You never knew you were into women but looking at her right now you can’t deny to find her attractive.

Joel on the other side is tense and nervous as a violin string, rippling muscles and large calloused hands, messy hair and a scruffy beard covering his cheeks.

Your eyes are drinking in his figure, glaring on his broad shoulders, strong neck and plush lips.

He’s definitely the most handsome man in the QZ.

He too has several wounds that blend into his olive skin, giving him the aspect of someone who cannot be argued with in the slightest.

In the little time you have already spent together, however, you have noticed how he bends to Tess's will, as if he were a guard dog always on alert to protect her.

Tess is the brains, Joel is the arm.

He's placed a large switchblade on his pillow, there to remind you that you have no escape.

They are both in their underwear, their clothes lying on the floor. Tess orders Joel to untie you, the rope slowly loose on your wrists as Joel warns you “you better not make a single move or you will regret it, slut”. His voice in your ear is terrifying, bouncing around in your head like a nightmare you can’t wake up from.

“Good girl” Tess praises you briefly while you remain still, before ordering “undress her”

Joel unceremoniously removes your jacket and shirt, throwing everything on the floor. He unhooks your bra, brushing his fingertips along your back, and you shiver imperceptibly.

As your bra comes off, the pills you’ve hidden inside fall onto the bed, rolling onto the blanket. Tess shakes her head, squinting “What are those? Didn’t you say you were hungry? Do you need pills to feed yourself, you little whore?” her voice is like ice and the blade of the knife abandoned on the bed is suddenly at your throat, held by Joel.

Your voice breaks into tears as you try to justify yourself. You try to say that they are only for you, just painkillers, you’re not a drug addict, you won’t sell them, you won’t try to ruin their business.

“Pfff and we should believe you?” Joel scoff, laughing from behind your back, tugging violently on your arm and sliding the blade on your skin.

“I-please”

You don't even know what to say anymore.

"Stop whining, it gets on my nerves” Joel warns you as he slightly dig the blade into your cheek, scratching you just a little, just to let you taste the flavor of iron.

“You'll be a very good pet for us, won't you?” Tess whispers leaning close to your ear and running her fingers along your arm.

Tears now roll freely down your cheeks. She wipes away a tear and licks its salty taste from her thumb, pleased.

“Yes, I’ll be good I - I promise” you sigh.

“You certainly will be, if you don't want to taste Joel's knife.” He grins behind you and leave the switchblade on the sheets.

Your bra joins the other clothes on the floor as Tess squeezes one of your nipples between her fingers. She isn't gentle, she isn't delicate, her hand is firm, demanding, her fingers calloused.

After all, she isn't one to back down from a fight and everything about her shows it.

She pulls, pinches and twists, treating your nipple as if it belongs to her and she can do whatever she wants with it, looking you straight in the eye, intimidatingly, without even flinching.

Joel is still behind your back, sitting on the bed and he reaches for your hips, his large hands enveloping them and his fingers pressing hard into your flesh. He leans down and runs his tongue all the way up your spine, going up your shoulder and biting hard where it joins your neck. You cry out. You know it will leave a mark on you, his teeth tattooed on your skin.

Tess slaps your tit when a moan slips through your lips at the sensation of having Joel sucking hard on your skin, leaving more marks on your neck, his beard scratching you.

“You fucking like it, don’t you, pet?” She teases.

You can’t say anything, a stinging pain spread across your chest and you wonder how strong she really is despite her slim figure.

Joel detaches from you and Tess makes you lying on the bed again, unbuttoning and tugging down at your jeans, leaving you in nothing more than your ridiculously worn panties, they’re so old they’re basically see through but it’s not like you can have something fancy in the QZ.

She spots a wet stain right in the front and she smiles fake sweetly, you can still see the evil in her ice cold eyes.

She takes the hem and just rip them off, exposing your bare cunt.

You gasp and try to gather your hands in front of you for covering your privates but you can’t, Joel is still holding your wrists in a dangerous grip.

She laughs at your clumsy attempt “darling, rebelling won't do you any good, I thought I was clear before”

“Please,” you whisper, “please let me go. I didn’t steal anything in the end, I’m never coming back.”

“No,” she says firmly, “no. Do you know why? You don’t mess with us, you don’t even try. You have a lesson to learn.”

Her fingers run over your leg cold. You don't have time to beg again as another slap hits you. "Poor little girl, didn't your mother teach you manners? We'll have to think about it ourselves." She says, pursing her lips.

She slaps your cunt.

You throb.

And you’re wet.

You hate every cell in your body that is getting sexually aroused by them.

Your brain says no, but your body isn't following suit and you can't really explain it.

What was once pain is turning into a creeping, crawling tingle that runs under your skin.

Back in the days you had a boyfriend that used to fuck you roughly and you liked that but you certainly never thought to be aroused by people holding you captive.

It’s insane.

She lifts one of your legs up high, holding it tightly by the ankle as Joel brings your arms above your head on the bed and his grip continues to secure your wrists.

“Um, look at you. What a delicious wet pussy.” Tess coos.

Joel grunts at the sight “such a needy slut”

Tess positions herself between your legs and begins to rub herself on your pussy.

She doesn’t care a bit about treating you like a person, making your joints ache for the unnatural position, one leg impossibly strained with her grip and the other one straight on the bed with your thigh hurting under her weight.

You’re their muppet now.

The friction between your pussies makes you feel ashamed at first, you've never done it before. With each thrust of Tess on you, however, you begin to feel a heat enveloping your lower abdomen, going straight down to your clit making it sensitive and swollen.

You’re excited, as much as you hate to admit it.

Tess is wild, she’s claiming your body like a predator does with its prey, her small and perfectly shaped tits are bouncing in the air, nipples pink and hard.

You're biting your lip hard, holding back the moans that try to escape from the back of your throat.

You don’t know what came over you but wouldn't mind sucking on them .

You look up at Joel who towers over you, his gaze glassy, fixed on your pussies slamming together making the most obscene sounds you've ever heard, like a squish on loop, wet and slippery.

Tess looks at you, her face twisted into an evil grimace as she groans and curse.

You're trying to control yourself in every way but your body responds, you feel a rush of pleasure flooding you. Fuck. It's like your brain is leaking out of your cunt.

You’re gasping under Tess.

Your hips move trying to seek more friction.

Hot tears stream down your face as you moan. You can’t believe how fucked up this is.

“Oh yeah, baby, go ahead and cry, be a pathetic whining mess, we don't give a shit. Your whore pussy is ours now.” Joel growls.

He moves in front of your face, his large hand covers your cheek completely and squeezes it hard, pinching your skin mercilessly before giving you a slap. You feel an unbearable heat radiating on your skin, you haven't even moved your arms even though he has let go of his grip.

“You’re just a plaything,” Tess echoes, “and you’re enjoying it, aren’t you, little scammer?”

Tess grinds against you relentlessly, she reaches down and twists your clit with two fingers and a wail of pain breaks from your lips.

You feel delirious under her ministration, her body takes what it wants from you and there's nothing you can do to stop it, on the contrary. Your nipples are so pebbled they look like little rocks on your chest, your cunt so sloppy and wet that your cream is lasciviously trickling on your inner thighs, you don’t recognize yourself anymore.

Tess comes above you, callin names and stuttering angrily.

You whine again and Joel barks “it’s time for you to shut up, slut”

He pulls down his boxers with a dark look and an incredibly devious smile plastered on his face. His cock is right in front of your eyes, semi hard, he spits in his palm and starts fisting it, up and down his length. It’s thick and swollen, more big than you expected.

His angry red tip almost touches your lips, he reaches for your jaw and pulls it “open wide, slut” he orders. Your lips are pressed together, you try to resist, but Joel takes a handful of your hair, pulling hard.“I. Said. Open. Wide.” punctuating each word with a stronger tug.

You can’t help but doing it, he’s basically tearing off your hair while Tess is still having no mercy of your cunt. She moves on the sheets and she stick two of her fingers in your cunt, up to the knuckles “Jesus, you’re fucking soaked baby, such a good slut”

Joel forces his cock into your mouth and begins to push inside you until he reaches the back of your throat, not letting you get used to it, your cry is muffled by your lips tightening around his shaft. His taste spread across your tongue as he moves abruptly into you, in and out of your lips. Your mind is fuzzy, you try to breathe from your nose but all you can feel right now is the aching of your jaw and the way Tess is scissoring her fingers inside your hole. They have no mercy and you’re madly aroused with it.

It’s not like you’re expecting something good from life at this point. Life isn’t gentle anymore, you lost everything a long time ago, you’re just trying to stay afloat biting off what you can and expecting nothing but bites back until the day fate or destiny decides it's over for you.

You don't know if there's a hint of what they call Stockholm Syndrome in all this but here you are, willing to be free use, for them to ruin, right on the verge of losing your mind. You’re pliant and hungry now, sucking on Joel cock like a good meal after a whole month of starvation, you’re reaching his balls with your hand, massaging and squeezing it lightly. Tess is watching you and she doesn't seem happy with the way you're trying to be, her hand lands again on your pussy, heavy and cruel, right on your clit.

“Oh don’t be too much of an ass kisser, I never liked them. And don’t do anything until we tell you to”

Joel grunts deeply as you let go of his ball “fuck I liked that though” and he grabs your hand back “since you like it, touch it, you dirty whore”

Tess rolls her eyes and slaps your pussy again and again until you feel your skin burning and you know you're about to come, your muscles are tense and your legs start to tingle as well as the bottom of your belly.

Tess understands and stops. “Oh, one more thing, you come if and when we decide.” A moan rises from deep in your chest and vibrates on Joel’s cock.

“Keep sucking” Joel urges you groping and squeezing your tits.

You move painfully up and down his length, him holding the back of your skull. Tess watches you, studying your reactions, a hint of jealousy in her eyes as Joel continues to thrust into your mouth, urging you “like this, little bitch, keep going - OH FUCK”

You can feel your cunt throbbing, screaming for a release.

Tess is giving you occasional kitten lick, so soft and so evil at the same time ‘cause you’re right on the edge. It’s a torture, an unbearable struggle that you can take anymore. Your cunt is clenching around nothing, your clit swollen and sore, you’re feeling delirious and you’re not allowed to come.

Tess picks up the knife again and you feel it slide across your inner thigh, it’s cold on your sweat-beaded skin and it makes you shiver. It rises dangerously close to your center, her evil eyes obsessively following the path of the blade. A sharp smile spreads across her face as she begins to sink the tip into your flesh, just enough to scratch your skin. You’re choking your whines on Joel’s cock as you smell blood in the air. It feels like she’s writing something, her trajectory is meticulous and careful, she pulls the blade out smiling again, satisfied with her work.

“Here you go, now everyone will know what kind of whore you are. If you ever get out of here”

She runs her tongue over what she just branded into your skin, your body shakes, your back arches insanely seeking for that delicious line between pain and pleasure, it’s stinging and soothing at the same time.

Joel is spilling inside you, his cum invading your mouth, painting your tongue and sliding warm down your throat. His face is red and sweaty, he's gritting his teeth, his neck is tense, his merciless hand holds you still clinging to your neck, he looks like a wild animal ready to devour you.

“Swallow it all, bitch” And you do it, you have no other choice. And you like it. You like the feel of his vein pulsing against the roof of your mouth, the heat and weight of him on your tongue, his musky flavor. It distracts you from the pain spreading across your thigh.

Joel only pulls out of your mouth when you've licked it clean.

It’s softening but it’s still the biggest cock you’re ever had.

He whispers in a hoarse voice that you are a very good little pet, smiling at you nastily, his big hands filling with your breasts, calloused and heavy, your nipples still hard under his palms.

Tess chuckles “yeah, she’s not that bad. And she’s a real fucking slut, aren’t you, honey? Your pussy is hungrier than your stomach”

You don't answer her, you are enraptured by Joel's dark and lascivious eyes, naked and helpless on the bed, branded like a cow, stupid and drunk on sex.

Your mind is no longer thinking clearly.

They both lie down on the bed to catch their breath, leaving you naked and sore at the foot of it, like a rag doll.

You never imagined this would happen to you when you came in here. And then, when they found you, the first thing you thought was that they were going to kill you. You're still here. Exhausted, in pain as you stare at the ceiling, sweat cooling on your skin.

You wonder how long it will last, where they will dump you when they get tired.

You're still alive anyway, that's enough.

There is definitely something rotten in you. You want to get up and see the word Tess wrote on your thigh but you are not brave enough. You trace it with a finger, shivering with pain, feeling your skin pull and pinch where it is starting to heal. If your touch is right it says “pet”.

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runningfrom2am · 10 months ago

Text

empty threats // LTPF

summary: you get in trouble at school, and don't want to go home just yet.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.4k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. they're just little in this one :'), so no real warnings. besides r being a little violent and threatening, but what's new lol. non-descript mentions and implications of abuse.

a/n: hi! thought i'd post this before s2 of cold nights bc,,, i'm not ready to let this series go just yet lol. this was (kind of) requested a couple of times so i do intend to write another thing ab them before the series! maybe p2 to 'the finer things in life'? lmk

(also would y'all call me crazy if i said this was based on something i actually did in middle school? yes? okay in that case that was a joke. thanks.)

series masterlist // playlist

You were having a bad day. A bad week. Bad month. The academy had not been treating you well this year- nothing really was. But school especially was kicking your ass.

You did well, consistently. A's, A+'s, and it was only at the small cost of your sanity. You hardly slept anymore- which is part of the reason your father started allowing you to wear makeup at the beginning of the year. To hide how dark the circles under your eyes were- how pale you were getting from lack of sunlight and exercise, and the bruises that happened to be visible on warmer days where you weren't required to wear your blazer.

You hadn't slept in a week, you were sure. It was hard to tell. Days and nights blurred together; you were effectively a zombie at fourteen. Even you knew that wasn't right.

"Y/N/N." You didn't realize you were falling asleep leaning on your palm, elbow pressed uncomfortably against the surface of the desk.

"Huh?" You blink rapidly, looking over to the source of your name.

"You okay?" Coryo chuckles quietly, looking you over as he almost always did.

"Never been better." You sigh, shaking your head to refocus yourself on writing the notes on the board.

"You sure about that? I'm not exactly inclined to believe you."

"Yes." You nod, having to lean to the side to even see the board. You didn't notice when Arachne finished her notes and stood right in your line of sight to talk to Livia, who was sitting in front of you.

Yes, your teacher had allowed you to discuss upcoming assignments when you were finished copying down the paragraphs on the board, but that didn't mean Arachne should block your view.

"Arachne." You say, waving for her to move when she looks down at you.

"Have you no manners?" She asks, tilting her head at you.

"Move. Please." You really don't have the patience to argue.

"No thank you, I'm alright here." She smiles, sickly sweet, before promptly returning to her conversation.

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath in before slowly letting it out through your nose. "I'm trying to write, and your massive head is blocking the entire board. Move, now."

Coryo snickers beside you, his notes already long done as he sits back to watch.

"We're trying to have a conversation. Some of us have lives outside of school, you know." Arachne digs her grave deeper, crossing her arms as she stares down at you.

You grip your pen in your hand so tight you're afraid it might break.

"Don't." Coryo says to you, reaching out to grab your shoulder in an effort to calm you. He knew this look on you; you looked like you were about to detonate.

You ignore him, trying to look past her again, but she takes a sidestep to the left intentionally blocking your view now. Back and forth, whichever way you lean she's conveniently moving to be right in your line of sight. You try to listen to Coryo and not cause a scene, you really do, but your patience was deteriorating by the second.

"Arachne, I swear to god I will hit you so hard with this book if you don't get out of my way that you'll have worse memory loss than usual. Move."

"Y/N/N, here, let's just switch. You can see just fine from-" Your friend suggests, already standing up to move and open his seat to you.

"Oh, is that so?" The girl laughs at you. "It's not like these notes will ever matter to you. You probably don't even know what that-"

Within a second you're standing, grabbing the textbook from your desk and swinging it at her.

It hits the side of her head with a loud crack that has her stumbling back. Other students are laughing, you can hear it, but only echoes as you breathe heavily.

You smile as she clutches the side of her head, stumbling down into her empty seat. "Thank you." You nod, moving to sit back down and resume taking your notes. Suddenly, you're feeling much more awake; refreshed at being able to channel your frustration into something physical.

Coryo stares at you, almost in shock. Almost, because Arachne should have known that coming from you, there was no such thing as an empty threat.

"Miss Y/L/N!" Your teachers voice bellows as Arachne starts to cry.

God, she's such a baby.

You aren't given the chance to defend yourself before Coryo is speaking up for you. "Sorry, Sir. She's just had a tough week." You shoot him a look and you can see the panic in his eyes, wracking his mind for a way to excuse your violence in a forgivable manner. "I'll take her down to the office." He's helping you up out of your seat before grabbing your books and your bag for you.

Your teacher clearly doesn't have the energy to get into it with you today so he nods, waving for the two of you to go.

"It's just, you know, lady problems." Coryo says as you pass the teacher on his way over to Arachne, who now has Livia fanning her face with a book as if that would help.

"Just, get her out of here." Your teacher says again.

"Of course you would know- just get your insane girlfriend away from me. I can't look at her anymore." Arachne whines, still clutching the side of her head.

You grit your teeth and jam your elbow into your friends ribs at the unnecessary comment right as you exit the doorway.

"Ow!" He winces, looking back to make sure no one saw. "I helped you!"

"I am not on my period, Coriolanus." You hiss, glaring up at him as he walks beside you. "You're such a pig."

"How am I supposed to know! I just know you assaulted Arachne and that's a hard act to excuse. I tried my best."

"You're lucky I'm not. If I was I'd gut you like a fish right now." You grumble, pulling your bag from his shoulder and giving him a shove back.

"I'll count myself lucky then." He chuckles. He never took anything mean you say to him too personally or too seriously. Your threats only ever seemed to be empty when they were directed at him.

"Coryo! Y/N/N! Wait!" You turn and cross your arms as you wait for Sejanus who's speed walking down the hall to catch up.

"Oh, you're late to the party." You grin, raising an eyebrow at him.

"He sent me to escort you guys, didn't want you to sneak off before actually going to the office." He explains as the three of you continue down the hall.

You groan, rolling your eyes. "Ugh, him too?"

"Gross." Coryo mutters.

"Excuse you, that was rude!" You laugh, bumping your shoulder against his arm. You didn't notice when he started to get taller than you, it seemingly happened overnight.

"And I stand by it." He replies, shaking his head at you as you gasp in mock offense.

"I'm wounded, Coryo. Truly."

"Yeah, you guys are never beating those allegations. Sorry." Sejanus laughs.

"True, but it would be nice if he didn't act like i'm repulsive all the time."

"I do not act like you're repulsive!"

"You guys argue like an old married couple. It's cute."

You don't know what prompted you to walk here. Anxiety, maybe, after the receptionist at the office was instructed by Dean Highbottom to call your father this afternoon while you were in the office.

You stand outside the entrance to Coryo's apartment building, pacing in your academy uniform. You stop, staring at the call panel.

"Level 12 Penthouse: Snow"

You chew your lip, looking down at your watch. It was almost five, you wasted time sitting in after school detention staring at the wall. Just press it. You didn't walk all this way just to go home anyways. Press it.

The buzzer is ringing out of the speaker before you can overthink it.

"Uh, hello?" His voice is crackly on the other end, hardly even audible if you weren't panicking over who would answer.

"Coryo, it's me. Can I come in?"

"Uh, hold on. I'll come down." His voice cuts out and you wait for the buzzer that signifies the door is unlocked, but it doesn't come.

You try the handle anyway, but it remains locked. You groan, peeking in for the first time through the large glass windows that made up the entrance to the lobby.

It was a damn mess in there. Garbage bags everywhere, it looked like the floors or the walls hadn't been cleaned in years. Why on earth was there no maintenance in his building? You knew he had a driver, a chef, maids to clean his own apartment, or so he said. Would it be so hard to have the building cleaned every week?

It's a good few minutes before you see your friend open the doors to the stairs, and looking over at the elevator while he walks up to the door you see there's a maintenance sign on it. That was broken, too. Your brow furrows as he walks up to the glass door, shoving it open.

"Y/N... What are you doing here?" He asks, and you give him a once over. He's still wearing his academy uniform, just like you, but without the skirt that drapes around his legs. The buttons are partially undone and buttoned unevenly.

"I, uh..." You start, giving a slight shake of your head. "Why are you still in your uniform?"

"I haven't had the chance to change.." He lies, eyeing you quizzically. He definitely won't be telling you that his only casual clothes are noticeably too small on him, ankles showing in the only pyjama pants he owns so he had to throw this back on in a rush. Usually, he just sleeps in his boxers and only leaves the house in dress clothes. "What's going on?" He asks, changing the subject.

You take a deep, shaky breath and shake your head. "I... was just hoping you'd want to hangout." You smile, but it's not convincing enough for him.

"Oh, uh, I'm a little busy right now..." He glances back inside.

"Of course. Yes. I'm sorry." You nod, slightly disappointed.

"But, I mean, it's just homework. If you have your stuff we could work on it together." He suggests, sensing your discomfort.

"Came straight from school!" You grin, patting your bag where it hangs at your waist.

"Uh, okay..." He chuckles a bit, checking the time on his watch before reaching past you to buzz his own apartment.

You wait for a moment before another voice rings out.

"Hello?"

"It's me."

"Coryo, did you lock yourself out again?" His cousin sighs.

"Again?" You gasp, covering your mouth as you laugh quietly at him.

His cheeks flush. "No, I didn't. I was hoping you could bring my school bag down to me, Y/N and I are going to hers to work on homework."

Your smile fades as he volunteers your home. The reason you came was because you didn't want to go back there. Not yet.

"I'll be right down!"

You hear the click of it disconnecting and he smiles at you. "Just give her a minute."

"We can't- Uh..." How to word this without sounding weird. "My brother has friends over, I think. They're always super loud so that's why I came here..."

"Oh, okay. Well..." He looks back inside again. "We can find somewhere else to go. My grandma'am is sleeping, that's all."

You're both lying to each others faces and neither of you knew.

"Sounds good." You nod. "My brother and his friends are just like, so annoying. I wish they would just get together and like... read or something..." You laugh nervously, rubbing your arm.

"I get it." He hums and you laugh.

"As if, Coryo, you are that younger brother."

"No I'm not."

"Yes you are."

"No, I'm not."

"This is exactly how my little brother fights with me so..."

"Except I don't have siblings. So that's impossible."

"Yes you do."

"No, I don't."

"You do!" You laugh. "You realize the genetic components have like... nothing to do with that, right? Tigris is effectively your sister. You live together, for christs sake. Besides, I know I'm right because of... everything." You gesture to him vaguely and he glares at you.

"That's why we get along so well." You smile sweetly at him. "I'm a big sister. I know exactly how to handle little brothers. And you're used to having a big sister around, so you tolerate me."

"Tigris is not my sister, and you are nothing like her."

You playfully roll your eyes. "I wouldn't know. But I would bet money that we have more in common than you know."

"Definitely not." He protests, shaking his head as Tigris steps out of the stairwell with his book bag in hand. She smiles and waves at you as she comes up to the door, opening it to hand it out to him.

"Thank you." He nods, and she turns to you, blocking the door from closing as she stands there.

"Y/N, how are you?" She smiles, holding her housecoat around herself. It had been a long time since you'd seen her- she left the academy before you were old enough to study in the same buildings.

"I'm well, thank you." You smile. "Yourself?"

"I'm good." She nods. "How is school treating you?"

You laugh, shrugging and reaching up to rub your eyes. "Well enough, I suppose. Gives me something to do."

She smiles, sadly, and nods. You look over at Coryo quickly. "Should we be going then?"

He nods. "Yes, we should. Thank you, Tigris."

"Of course." She grins, waving you off as you make your way back down the steps ahead of him.

Coryo throws his bag over his shoulder, rushing to follow you as he notices his mismatched buttons and quickly tries to fix it. "Where do you want to go?" He asks, and you shrug.

"Maybe the park? It's a nice day out." You offer.

He looks around. It wasn't that nice- there was a thin overcast of clouds that suggested it may start to rain, and there wasn't much time before the sun would set. "I mean, it looks like it's going to rain. Noise doesn't bother me, we could just go to your house."

You sigh, looking down at your feet as you walk in no particular direction, kicking a stone across the broken pavement. "No." You quickly dismiss it. "What about the old bomb shelter? I know how to get into the one on my block. There's an unlocked door."

Your friend wrinkles up his nose at the suggestion. "Isn't it gross and dusty and dark?"

"It's not that bad." You laugh. "Don't be a baby."

"Do you remember the bombings?" You ask, pushing aside an old curtain in the underground shelter.

"I don't think I could forget if I wished to." Coryo mutters, looking around. It was dusty, but you had found a light switch very quickly. The lights overhead flickered after years of not being used, but for some reason, power was still connected. Like they were still on standby, waiting for another flood of terrified people to swarm in during the night after years of being left untouched.

"Me neither." You hum, adjusting your bag over your shoulder. "We slept over there." You point vaguely to a far corner of the vast space of old bunk beds and tables.

"Cozy." Coryo mumbles, stepping around a crack in the ceiling where water had dripped down into a puddle on the floor.

You laugh as you place your bag down on a table, quickly removing your blazer to dust off the bench next to it so the two of you could sit. You won't get in any more trouble for dirtying your uniform than you already are for hitting your classmate.

You lay the red material down across it and use your palms to wipe the table so your friend would be more comfortable placing his stuff there. "Here, sit." You smile, patting the spot next to yourself.

"Thanks." He nods, eyes locked on the yellowing bruise that falls around your wrist. It was previously unnoticeable under the shadow of your blazer sleeve, but now with only your blue dress shirt slightly folded up, it was clear as day. To him, anyway. His eyes flick up to your face as you dig through your bag, so blissfully unaware that now he knows why you came to him instead of going home. He hadn't thought of it before.

"Well?" You turn, raising an eyebrow at him when he doesn't make an effort to move. "You scared or something? I don't bite."

He shakes himself out of his stupor of realization. Maybe one day he would say something, but that certainly wouldn't be today. "I'm pretty sure you do." He jokes, sliding into the spot next to you.

"Oh, how you think so little of me." You laugh as he starts pulling papers and books out of his bag. A small smile tugs on his lips, but he doesn't look at you. You tilt your head a little bit, watching his movements closely. He's so sophisticated for a boy who just turned fourteen.

"I was working on math before you showed up. Want to do that first?" His lips are moving suddenly, and you only notice after that he's looking at you.

"Oh, yes. Sure." You smile, quickly turning back to your own notebooks and pulling out the right one. You didn't want to work on homework, not at all, but it was better than being at home.

"What page are you on?" Coryo asks absentmindedly, flipping through his textbook to note both where he is and where you are. You didn't need his help, but he was happy to offer it.

"236. You?"

"250."

"You're fast." You giggle, shaking your head as you look at him.

"Well, I had an hour when I got home, so..."

"Right." You wonder as you stare at his blonde curls if they get poofy when he brushes it. It must. He clearly hasn't had a haircut in quite a while. You twist the ends of your own hair between your fingers. You haven't either.

Coryo's brow is furrowed in concentration as he tries to read in the mediocre lighting, copying down the equation he was working on.

"Why are you friends with me?" You ask impulsively, and his writing hand freezes for just a moment.

"Because... You're nice to me." He answers simply, resuming the question he was on.

"I'm not that nice to you." You giggle. "Everyone is nice to you, mostly."

"Yes, well, you're funny too. It seems that all our classmates have monkey brains, or something."

"So you think I'm smart?" You tease, leaning your chin on your palm.

"Aren't you?" He deflects the question back to you, not risking looking your way.

"I like to think so." You shrug. "But that's not a good reason to be friends with someone."

"Then why are you friends with me?"

You bite your lip, picking up your pencil and suddenly finding an interest in the bite marks you've left in the wood over the last week. "I don't know." You say honestly. "You're nice to me... I suppose." You laugh, seeing the irony in your response.

Coryo finally looks at you, smiling knowingly. "See?"

"Okay, fine. But I like to think we get along really well, don't you think?" You really don't want to do your homework, deciding it would be better to just talk anyway. That's why you went to him, you realize. You wanted to talk.

"Sejanus said we bicker like an old married couple." He chuckles.

"Well, yes, but he's wrong. Besides, an old couple wouldn't be married if they didn't at least get along most of the time."

He nods, tapping his pencil against his notebook. "I guess you're right." He agrees. "But we don't really fight, it's just... pretend. You know that, right?" He looks at you hopefully, trying to pick up on a sense of understanding in your eyes.

"Well, duh." You giggle nervously. "If we really fought I wouldn't be your friend. I'd hit you with a book, as we know."

He nods, but doesn't laugh at your joke. "I wouldn't hurt you on purpose. Ever." Don't look at her wrist, don't look at her wrist, don't look at-

"I know." You nod, speaking quieter now as you feel the seriousness in his tone. The smile on your face is genuine, but he can tell it's forced beyond sadness. "Maybe that's why I'm friends with you."

"That's a good reason." He says softly, matching your smile. "Trust is the most important thing."

You think he doesn't know how much that means to you, but he does. You force yourself to look away quickly, torn between the urges to both cry and kiss him. You'd never kissed anyone before, but you'd decided when other girls started having boyfriends who they only stayed with for a week that if you had to pick anyone, it would be Coryo. Something tells you he wouldn't break your heart.

"So you trust me?" You ask, blinking away tears as you pretend to focus on your schoolwork.

"Of course I do."

taglist:@totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @klplynn , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @gloryekaterina , @andrewgarfieldsbitch , @queenofspades6 , @pepperonipastas , @ladybug0095 , @lunamothwrites , @sbrewer21 , @mus-tbe-a-weasley , @splxtscreen , @unclecrunkle , @karmaswitch , @coconut-dreamz , @nekee-lilac02 , @ooooglymoooogly , @riddlerloveb0t , @lovedbalances , @notyourwildestdream , @snowlandson-top , @too-lit-for-fanfic , @utopiakys , @deafeningballoonnacho , @roosterschanelslut , @chmpgneprblem , @cosmoetik , , @urvampgfsworld , @carolanns-world @nan-nie , @shakespearseclipse , @iovemoonyy , @notyoursweetheart-honey , @xyzstar , @eatpizzasass, @slytherinholland , @queenofshinigamis , @elodiebeau , @soulessjourney , @that-veela-girl

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omegalomania · 9 months ago

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What are some of your favorite aro-/ace-coded fob lyrics?

oh fuck yes a little bowl of seeds just for me

boycott love from disloyal order of water buffaloes is a personal favorite of mine. its a lyric i really really want tattooed at some point. that's not the only lyric i latch onto from an aro perspective but it's probably the biggest one

basically the entirety of it's hard to say "i do" when i don't but a special mention goes to you are appealing to emotions that i simply do not have as well as the only ring i want buried with me are the ones around my eyes

it's true romance is dead / i shot it in the chest and in the head from the music or the misery is also a favorite of mine, also just that whole song in general

i thought i loved you but it was just how you looked in the light in hum hallelujah resonates with a lot of queer folks i've found, and it's no different for me

same goes for it's a strange way of saying that i know i'm supposed to love you from g.i.n.a.s.f.s.

i'm outside the door, invite me in / so we can go back and play pretend from alone together brings me back to when i was trying to perform heteronormativity/amatonormativity even if it was making me miserable

i also hold to a very similar vibe with she said "i love you 'till i don't" / i am just playing house, no idea what i'm doing now from sunshine riptide and also most of burna boy's verse, frankly. i fell in love but i didn't fall down and feel like i'm bulletproof, baby in particular

american beauty/american psycho, particularly the first verse. i think i fell in love again / maybe i just took too much cough medicine

golden is a big one for queer folks in general i've found. the chorus especially hits hard from an aro and/or ace reading. and i saw god cry in the reflection of my enemies / and all the lovers with no time for me

i've got a dark alley and a bad idea that says you should shut your mouth is a heavy song no matter how you slice it. but that chorus gets to me in particular: we can fake it for the airwaves / force our smiles, baby, half-dead / from comparing myself to everyone else around me

the kids aren't alright reads to me as one big anthem for platonic love above anything romantic, which resonates super hard with me. the second verse has a lot of good lines that i latch onto from an aroace lens too. your love is anemic and i can't believe / that you couldn't see it coming from me

pretty much the whole chorus of HOLD ME TIGHT OR DON'T does it for me, and those verses have got some good aroallo vibes too! i never really feel a thing... confidants but never friends...

the whole of fake out is a gimme. that chorus rings real true. starts with love is in the air, i just gotta find a window to break out and finishing with but it was all a fake-out

i've got all this ringing in my ears and none on my fingers is one that has another highly applicable title but the whole refrain of the truth hurts worse / than anything i could bring myself to do to you paired with the one-two punch of that second verse REALLY gets under my skin

and of course, the culminating one: you are what you love, not who loves you from save rock and roll. obviously there are a LOT of ways to read that line

there are a couple other songs i latch onto - wilson (expensive mistakes); a little less "sixteen candles", a little more "touch me"; the (after) life of the party to name a few - but the ones listed above are the big lyrics that resonate with me on a personal level

just in general i have a shitton of fob over on my aro playlist (which doubles as a general aroace/queer playlist but has a lot of emphasis on aromanticism) in case i forgot to mention anything but like i said those are the big ones

#askin hours #anon #happy aro awareness week lol ive had this in my drafts for mONTHS and forgot about it #sorry it took so long to answer i have a million asks in my inbox and just do not have time most days #go listen to aromanticism by moses sumney for black history month and aro awareness week btw #now THAT there is an album that rewrote my neural chemistry

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literalliterature · 6 months ago

Text

[ID written by the artist @ultrasopp : stylized drawing of the northern lights. bright green “waves” drawn in thick lines cover the upper left corner of the drawing. the rest is a dark blue sky filled with stars. End ID.]

guess i'm some kind of freak: a laika borealis playlist

(yes it's another TTRPG OC playlist yes she is named after the space dog)

[Spotify]

01) 10,000-Year Earworm to Discourage Resettlement Near Nuclear Waste Repositories (Don't Change Color, Kitty) -- Emperor X

the radiation that the change implies/can kill, and that's a fact

02) Look Who's Inside Again -- Bo Burnham

when you're a kid and you're stuck in your room/you'll do any old shit to get out of it

03) The Mind Electric -- Miracle Musical

scattering sparks of thought energy/deliver me and carry me away

04) Mariella -- Kate Nash

i'm heavy-handed/to say the least/my mother thinks i'll be an awful clutcher

05) Just a Girl -- Florence + the Machine

oh, i'm just a girl/take a good look at me/just your typical prototype

06) Next Up Forever -- AJR

this is my imagination/this is how it looks and sounds/but i gotta go so much bigger/so they can never shut me down

07) Brass Band -- Jukebox the Ghost

boredom is a gift/but i've had enough of it to last a lifetime/give me something shocking

08) Second Child, Restless Child -- The Oh Hellos

and they saw trouble in my eyes/they were quick to recognize the devil in me

09) Numb Bears -- Of Monsters and Men

far across the ocean alone/while numb bears at home/said i could never get there/but i'm already there

10) Haven't You Noticed (I'm a Star) -- Olivia Olson

haven't you noticed i made it this far?/now everyone can see me burning

11) I Like That -- Janelle Monae

but even back then, with the tears in my eyes/i always knew i was the shit

12) Scrawny -- Wallows

if i'm offending them i don't mind/maybe they all should listen to me/it isn't all about what you see

13) Problems -- Mother Mother

i found love in the strangest place/tied up and branded, locked in a cage

14) Blah Blah Blah -- The Oozes

get out of there/you don't deserve that chair

15) Carnivore -- Bear Attack!

you took my heart and ate it/but i won't be your victim/can't take it anymore

16) Saint Bernard -- Lincoln

you always said how you love dogs/i don't know if i count, but i'm trying my best/when i'm howlin' and barkin' these songs

17) Never Love an Anchor -- The Crane Wives

it's a secret i keep tucked inside my chest/with this heart of mine that's guilty, not remorseful

18) The Mind Electric -- Chonny Jash

it seems those beams of light have caused some glare/freakish and dismal, hollow and bleak

19) Neighborhood #2 (Laika) -- Arcade Fire

when daddy comes home/you always start a fight

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lampmanliveblogs · 6 months ago

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So if jaspis is the Swedish word for jasper, then what do you guys use as Lapis Lazuli and Jasper's ship name?

Good question! Sadly, there are two fundamental misconceptions at the basis of this question, two assumptions you made that are not true.

It implies there is a swedish fandom. There isn’t. There are swedish fans. I’ve found forum posts discussing how bad the dub is, there was enough of an audience to make a fuzz about an iffy translation choice, and I’ve even found some fan translations and covers of songs. HERE is a whole playlist.

The truth is that most swedish fans who were old enough to want to engage in a fandom, look at fanart, read fanfic, etc, they probably did what I did: watch the show in english and then join the english-speaking fandom. I only started watching the dub out of morbid curiosity, and then I watched the entire thing with my little brother who doesn’t know much english yet.

You give the dub too much credit. You are correct in assuming they would translate the gems’ names, because they did do that. So Garnet is called Granat, Amethyst is called Ametist, and Pearl is called Pärlan (a translation I’m not fond of for reasons I won’t go into now).

Your mistake is in thinking that they would be consistent with this. Like, at all. The dub is consistently inconsistent with its naming scheme. I have a conspiracy theory, that the show was translated by three different people who took turns doing different episodes, but they did not talk to each other and they maybe also hated each other.

The worst offender is what they did to my poor cotton candy-haired goddess Rose Quartz. Rose Quartz is ”Rosenkvarts” in swedish. You could call her Ros for short. Maybe Rosa, if you wanna be cute. They did not do that, oh no. They called her, drum roll… Rose Kvarts. Which is some swenglish nonsense and every time they say that, it inflicts psychic damage on me.

So what does this mean for everyone’s favorite Big Buff Ostbåge? Well, they did not bother translating Jasper’s name, they just call her… Jasper. They also do this with Ruby, Sapphire, and a few others. However, remember, consistently inconsistent. There are, according to the notes I took while watching the show with my brother, two episodes where they DO call Jasper ”Jaspis.” Super Watermenlon Island and Crack the Whip. And again, Ruby and Sapphire suffered this as well, occasionally being called ”Rubin” and ”Safir.”

Conclusion Let’s construct three scenarios wherein there is a swedish fandom of Steven Universe.

In the first scenario, the swedish-speaking fandom uses the names as they are given within the dub, prioritizing the first or most common name used. In this scenario, the Jasper/Lapis Lazuli ship would probably still be called Jaspis. I can imagine it being bit of a meme with people being like ”You ship Jaspis? D-do you ship her with herself?” and everyone has a sensible chuckle about it.

In the second scenario, the swedish-speaking fandom uses the original english names for the characters, as well as the ship names. In this scenario, the Jasper/Lapis Lazuli ship is still called Jaspis.

In the third scenario, the dub was not a nigh-incomprehensible mess, but translated all the gem names properly, as it should have done. In this scenario, what would the swedish-speaking fandom call the Jasper/Lapis Lazuli ship, or rather, the Jaspis/Lapis Lazuli ship? I don’t know, but I’m partial to Jazuli. Maybe Laspis?

Final Thoughts This ask reignited a dormant hatred within me, hatred I thought I had outgrown and left behind. I was certain I didn’t need it. But it is a part of me, the part I always have to repress. I don’t know that I can do it much longer.

#ask #steven universe #steven universe swedish dub #the lampman about to enter his villain era?

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uselesscian · 1 year ago

Text

Disclaimer:

I originally wrote This in a YouTube Playlist (here, if you want to hear) like a POV but I decided to start writing little things here.

A little bit spicy (?

Genderneutral reader x Neuvillette & Wriothesley

And I'm not so good at English but I'm trying. I hope you like it.

"This is so boring!" you yelled in desperation.

Spending two days in that insipid cell was beginning to drive you crazy. Perhaps it would be better to leave (for a while) your acts of dubious legality.

"What? Are you already tired of being here?"

You got up as soon as you heard that well-known voice and you saw that black-haired man on the other side of the bars.

"My beloved, Wriothesley!" you yelled again but now in pure happiness "I'm so sorry, I'll never do it again, just let me go"

"You should have thought that before scamming people" he reproached.

"I already said I'm sorry" you pouted.

"You should thank me, I was in charge of giving you a light sentence" then another familiar voice sounded from the hallway and after a few seconds a tall white-haired man stood to one side of Wriothesley.

"Nevi! You're here too"

"Nevi…?" he asked with a bitter feeling.

"Yeah, your name is long" you gave a mischievous smile before speaking again "Or do you prefer that I call you 'love of my life'?"

Neuvillette only managed to remain silent, but Wriothesley could only think of something:

«Why don't you give me a nickname too?»

"Anyway, what are you two doing here?" you asked curiously "are you here to get me out or maybe… to keep me some company?".

"Unfortunately we can't get you out of here" he said as he took out the keys and opened the cell door "but we can keep you company"

"Hmm~ is that so? I'm very lucky"

The two entered, closing the door behind them, and Wriothesley was the first to approach.

"So… how should I repay your kindness?" you questioned watching how the black-haired one got closer and closer, he smirked "I think you already know".

By then he was close enough, just one more move and you were the one who did it. You took his tie and pushed him towards you causing their lips to meet in a desperate and passionate kiss.

He was fast because from one moment to the next his hands were already running through your body looking for a way to get rid of those annoying clothes.

When you finally caught your breath you looked at the other man "Oh, Nevi" you whimpered in a teasing tone "What are you waiting for?"

It was then that Neuvillette came up behind you, took you by the waist and began to leave kisses all over your neck.

You could not do more than sigh with pleasure because of the stimulation that those two gave you.

Wriothesley was in charge of monopolizing your lips as much as he could and Neuvillette was in charge of leaving kisses on your neck and shoulders while also giving attention to a certain lower part.

And then the clothes began to spread on the floor.

That night you would no longer be bored.

#genshin impact #neuvillette #wriothesley #gn reader #x reader #genshin x reader

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doyelikehaggis · 1 year ago

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Ok first of all, the name change confused me sm I thought I lost your user. Second of all, I hate you so much. You gave me a taste and now I’m addicted, but can’t get my fix because the drug is discounted, I’m going insane why did you do this to me

(Drug = stHudson|jesse/finn)

It has taken me about 9 months to answer this, so I'm sorry about that, first of all. However, your dealer is back in business and good to supply you with another hit of the good stuff, free of charge as extra apology. This is a continuation of the original St. Hudson drabble I wrote, set after Rachel did "Run, Joey, Run". <3

It's probably common knowledge to just about everyone that Finn doesn't really understand a lot of things that other people do. However, he thought he at least knew some things. Like, when someone suggests having lunch together, it's usually followed by an agreement to make an arrangement of some sort.

The other person doesn't usually just slide onto the bench across from them the next day and start taking food off of their tray like it's some sort of routine. Do they?

This is what has been going on in Finn's mind for the last ten minutes. Or has it been longer? He's lost track of just about anything, including his thoughts, from the second that Jesse joined his table in the cafeteria.

It occurs to him that he hasn't caught a single thing that he's been saying, either. Something about that strikes him as familiar, but that thought leads to thinking about Rachel, and he doesn't really feel like doing that right now when the whole "Run, Joey, Run" thing is still so fresh.

A quick, sharp snap brings him back. He focuses on Jesse, his eyes widening slightly as he tries to figure out how to ask him to repeat his entire rant without making it obvious he just zoned out. Or if he even wants him to repeat himself at all. Chances are, he won't understand it any better the second time around.

Before he can say anything more than, "Um--" Jesse takes the reins.

"So, you are still in there," he says, but the remark isn't as scathing as it might have once been. His head tilts to one side, fingers steepling under his chin as he observes Finn with furrowed brows. "So, what do you think?"

Finn blinks. "Um. What do I think?"

"Mhm." He's fearful momentarily that that's all he's going to get, and wonders again how he's going to lie his way through this interaction, only for Jesse to thankfully continue, "I mean, if we're going to do a duet to truly show Rachel that her pathetic little triple-act casting was the last straw for both of us, then it's going to have to be a song that really means something. I would choose it myself from my revenge playlist, but we should really draw on both of our emotions towards her, so what song would you say really captures your resentment, and your anguish, your deep-seated pain and loathing for Rachel?"

Finn blinks again. "Wait, we're doing a duet? When?"

If Jesse hadn't already figured out that he was not paying attention before, he's tipped off now. "On Wednesday? Mr Schue's next assignment for the week is going to be about moving on, and healing from past traumas. It's the perfect time to show Rachel that she hurt us and we will not let her walk all over us again."

"Past traumas?" Finn repeats. His mind goes briefly to his dad. "Are you sure singing about Rachel is really the best way to... show her you're over her? I mean, no offence, dude, but it might just make her think that we're still, like, hung up on her or something."

Jesse frowns. He takes a beat before quietly saying, "Maybe you're right." He leans back, his expression thoughtful now. "She's so vain and self-centered, of course she'd misinterpret the entire thing." He looks up at him so suddenly that Finn startles slightly. "We could sing 'She's So Vain', it's a classic."

Sighing, Finn says, "Look, Jesse, I get it. You're hurt. I was a bit, too. But maybe the best way to show her that you're not just gonna forgive her and get back with her is to -- to just... move on. You know, like Mr Schue wants us to do? You gotta let it go, dude."

"If that was your way of suggesting we sing that atrocious number from 'Frozen' then I am calling for a veto. My vocal talents will not be going to waste for a single second on that movie."

"I don't even know what that is," Finn say truthfully, and a little confused, as he always seems to be when Jesse's the one talking to him. "But, no. I'm saying to just... stop. Stop obsessing over what she did, and just forget about it. You broke up with her. It's over."

He shrugs, finally picking up his slice of soggy pizza to take a bit of it. After all, it's about the only thing left on his tray after Jesse somehow managed to pinch more or less everything else whilst talking at the speed of a bullet train.

Jesse continues to stare at him. It's a little bit unnerving. Finn just looks away and tries to ignore him, chewing self-consciously. Finally, he catches movement in his peripheral and looks back up to find Jesse once again leaning back, but this time with a look about him as if he's been stunned by something.

"You know, Finn," he says softly, "people really don't give you enough credit. You're smart. For someone who just seems to be stumbling his way through each day with those... large limbs and tall frame, and that amazingly, beautiful stereotypical jock body of yours... you're probably actually right."

He nods to himself like he's just had wisdom imparted on him by Yoda. Meanwhile, Finn's still slowly chewing in confusion, trying to work out if he was just complimented and insulted at the same time. Jesse's way of speaking is like one big riddle. There's a reason that Finn prefers the Joker as a villain, and it's not just because he really likes Heath Ledger. Though, that does have a big part in it, too.

"So," Jesse says, and he smiles, "what do you suggest we sing instead? I think we can still conform to Mr Schue's assignment about healing and moving on by singing something like 'I Want To Break Free' but if we wanted to do something more out there, there is always 'The Reason' by Hoobastank. I would prefer something a touch more classic over rock but it's a good song nonetheless. I just don't know if it's right for us."

Jesse steeples his fingers under his chin once more, looking pensive as he ponders it to himself. Finn watches him, pondering the fact that yesterday, they could barely stand to be seated next to each other in the choir room, and now today they're an "us" and trying to figure out what to sing for a duet. He's not even actually sure when he agreed to do a duet.

But, the more he thinks about it, the less opposed to the idea he becomes. Sure, it'll be a bit weird. Okay, a lot weird, but the dude's not a bad singer, an at the very least, he won't have to do too much worrying over what to sing as Jesse seems to be taking the lead on that so far. Unless he picks something way too embarrassing.

When he asks again what Finn thinks, he shrugs an says, "I don't know. I guess it's hard to pick something because... well, we don't really know each other. How are we supposed to sing something together about, you know, moving on and stuff when we... haven't really moved on from anything? At least, not together, you know, you and me."

Jesse almost looks affronted at that. "What do you mean? I thought after our conversation yesterday at your locker about Rachel that we were friends."

"Well..." Finn chuckles. "Dude, it's not that easy. Sure, I don't hate you and I guess you don't hate me but, like, we're not... really... friends." Seeing the look on his face, almost crestfallen, he for some reason finds himself hastening to backtrack. "Look, I don't mean that I don't want to be. It's just that, to be friends with someone, you've gotta do a lot more than just have one conversation where you agree to have lunch."

Frowning, Jesse uncertainly asks, "Like what? Surely singing together is the best way to get to know someone. It usually works for me."

"I'm sure it does. But you just gotta know more. You gotta hang out more, do things together, tell each other stuff, you know. Like, what's your favourite colour?"

"My favourite colour? How does knowing that make us friends?" he asks doubtfully, but at Finn's insistence, he rolls his eyes. "Orange."

"Mine is red," Finn replies and grins. "See, a normal conversation isn't that hard, dude, you just gotta be willing to try. Open up a bit."

Nodding slowly, Jesse seems to mull this over as Finn finishes off his pizza and downs half of his water. When he's done, Jesse has finally come to some kind of conclusion on the concept of friendship.

"So, what kind of things do you like to do other than Glee?" he asks.

"Well, I mostly do football. I'm pretty tired by the time I get home from practice most weekdays, so I don't get a chance to do a lot else, but sometimes I'll watch TV. I really like game shows."

"Game shows," Jesse repeats, but it isn't to mock him. He actually brightens up the more they talk, and begins asking more questions. Does he like arcades? Shopping? Malls? Road trips?

Finn has just finished telling him that he would love to go on a road trip someday but he and his mom just haven't really had the time or money to do it in the past when the bell goes.

"I could take you on one," Jesse says quickly when it stops. "I have a car. We could go this weekend. It would give us a chance to think some more on a song for our duet and... get to know each other more."

For some reason, the suggestion stuns him. Probably because, once again, they couldn't stand each other yesterday. How does something like that change so much in just twenty-four hours?

Even now, he's hesitant to agree to it. A weekend with only Jesse for company? Sure, this had been kinda nice, and he's actually not the worst company, but lunch is only forty minutes. A weekend is more like forty hours.

Yet he can't bring himself to say no. Something about the way Jesse's looking at him. Turning him down feels like he would be denying a puppy a treat for doing a trick. After all, he did just tell him that to be a friend, you have to put in a little effort. The guy's trying.

"Uh... sure," he finally says, standing from the bench. A smile spreads across his face at the way Jesse positively lights up. "Yeah, why not? Where do you wanna go?"

They still haven't actually answered that question when the weekend comes around. Finn hops into Jesse's car and waves goodbye to his mom, who is probably just glad to have the house to herself for once. He then turns to Jesse as he starts up the engine.

Once again, he asks where they're going. Jesse begins on what is sure to be a twenty-minute run-down of a fully itemized plan for the following two days. Finn hears "Nashville" and decides that's all he really needs to know. He reaches forward and turns on the radio while Jesse pulls away from his house.

A few songs later, "Fast Car" by Tracy Chapman starts playing. His fingers drum along to it on his thigh and Jesse interrupts his tangent to gush over the vocals before diving into the song himself. Finn joins him, caught up in his own soft spot for the song after hearing his mom play it for hours. They're both singing as they speed down the motorway. Together. The weekend has barely started but already something else has. A duet, of sorts.

#spicy-cannoli #ask away earthlings #glee #st. hudson #finn hudson #jesse st. james #finn x jesse #jesse x finn #rowing the rarepair rowboat #spicy 🌶️ 🔥 ❤️

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shanesbluechicken · 2 years ago

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Ooh, for sure for sure! Cant say im 100% emo myself but its not always dark and edgy or whatever stereotype emo has (though yeah ive seen a fair share of my own and thats completely valid)

I was thinking the reader be an anti social but friendly kind of emo. They wear dark clothing, but not all the time or all of it because they still do farming and wearing dark clothes make it hotter and make them sweatier. They dont wear eyeliner (it smudges when they sweat :/) but they do when its a non farming day. An emo in style but a lil softie in heart

I was imagining the headcanons start with shane assuming the reader to be cold and rude because of their appearance but started warming up to them after he realised how nice they were (and maybe add a few dating headcanons in the end if u could)

Thanks again!! Love ur writing sm ^^ -🦝

Shane with an emo s/o

Tysm for the info!🤗

It's based on this ask

TW: heavy language

Gender: neutral

Yes, first time seeing you he was quick to judge to say the least. You definitely stood out with your dark clothes and the even darker makeup and since he didn't know you personally, Shane kinda automatically put you in a box.

Much to his surprise the other town members didn't even seem to notice the fact that you're the extreme opposite of...well, Pelican Town.

It's not that he didn't like your style (he even thought that it suits you well), he simply wasn't familiar with the scene or the people in it. He remembered having some emo kids back in school, but he never interacted with them, only hearing gossip from other class mates who were just as clueless as he was.

In the first week he almost didn't even recognize you without your usual aesthetic, but he already guessed that it must be kinda in the way of work. Black clothes absorb the sun light after all. He had the feeling that something was off, but he couldn't quite place his finger on what.

One evening you entered the saloon wearing your whole attire. Clothes and makeup were spot on and when you took a seat near his corner, he caught himself admiring your eyeliner. Shane could not understand how in the name of Yoba you managed to make it look so...pretty. He banished the thought the second it appeared in his mind. Or tried it at least.

But now he knew what felt so off the last couple times he saw you in the town square, wearing a plain t-shirt and plain pants. This style, YOUR style, completes you somehow. Now you were in your element and fuck, he was staring again.

It didn't take long for him to realize that all the stories and gossip he heard all these years ago were nothing but bullshit. He wasn't better than all these judgmental shitheads tho, considering he put you in a box as well.

You were the nicest person he has ever met, giving out gifts without expecting anything in return and going out of your way to help others. He should have known better.

And now that you two are dating he makes sure to make up for all the times he treated you crappy in the beginning.

Shane loves watching you get ready, taking in every single minute he spends with you. He loves to sing along with you to your playlists when you do chores together. It's not much singing on his side, more mumbling to be honest.

You tried showing him how to put on eyeliner, but he can't even make a straight line :'D

You've tried rubbing your style off, because please his JojaMart jacket can't be considered a jacket anymore. This thing consists of more holes than material.

"Black would suit you so much, I bet."

"No."

It does.

Shane also often times uses clichés to make jokes, but nothing that would genuinely offend you. For example when you'd find a pretty, black stone in the mines and show it to him.

"Look! It's so black!"

"Like your soul?"

Masterlist

#sdv #stardew valley #sdv shane #stardew shane #sdv headcanons #stardew headcanon #sdv imagines #stardew imagines #stardew valley imagines #sdv x reader #stardew x reader #sdv shane headcanons #sdv shane x reader #stardew shane x reader

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nirikeehan · 2 years ago

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Happy Friday, Niri!! Maybe ❛ know that i would gladly be the icarus to your certainty, oh my sunlight. ❜ from the Hozier prompts for Thalia/Blackwall if it strikes your fancy? 🥰

Hi Aster!! Thanks, this song is now on their playlist 🥺

Fluffuary is over, we’re on to MARCH ANGST MADNESS apparently

For @dadrunkwriting

WC: 940

---

After the judgment, Thalia finds him in the barn. He is bent over the workshop table she ordered kept there, all tools exactly where he left them. Not one thing out of place. He leans heavily on the wood, back hunched as if in pain. Her fury licks and lashes at her, not allowing herself to find this pitiable. She storms up behind him.

“Why did you do that?” she demands.

He stays still as a statue. Still as the dead.

Thalia takes a breath. “I said—”

“Heard you the first time.” His voice has lost its volume and the bluster he employed in the hall. He straightens, slowly, and turns to her, face a mask. “Why’d I do what, my lady?”

Hearing him use her title after the spectacle at the judgment is too much. “Don’t you dare,” she snarls, pacing in front of him. She wants to overturn the table. She wants to hurl bales of hay at his stupid stoic face. “You walked into that room, in front of all those people, and you— you—”

“Told the truth?” He raises his heavy brows.

“Insulted me.” Thalia holds up a hand, ticking grievances off on her fingers. “Questioned my authority, proclaimed me capable of summary execution, accused me of criminal corruption—”

“I fail to see the inaccuracy of those statements.”

Thalia isn’t sure whether she wants to laugh or burst into tears. “I saved you. I risked everything — everything! To get you out of Val Royeaux. To give you a second chance.”

“Yes, and how is that going for you?” He crosses arms over his broad chest, lip curling into a sneer. “Was it worth it, to soil yourself and your organization, for me? A traitor who should have been hanged years ago?”

“Don’t — no, no, don’t call yourself that. Please.” She can feel it all slipping away from her, the whirling madness of what she’d witnessed at the Val Royeaux gallows taking hold again. She can feel the roar in her ears, as if the crowd was still around her, looking up at the man she knew to be noble, and loyal, and great.

He scoffs. “You ought to see now, my lady. Who I really am.”

I am Thom Rainier, he’d said. And Thalia thought, Who?

The name bore no weight for her; he sounded like a stranger. Ever since, however, the shade of that stranger has grown larger and larger, threatening to engulf the man she knows in her heart to be real. She sees them both before her right now. The light from the fire pit casts a large, dancing shadow on the wall behind him, ghoulish and depraved.

“I don’t believe you,” she breathes.

“Well, you’d best start.” The flickering flames cut his chiseled face at disturbing angles. He looks mean, dangerous. She tries to imagine him without the beard, hair cut short, a fat coin purse weighing down his pocket on a dark nighttime road. She can’t. “Nothing will change it. Not any number of lovely lies, nor your so-called mercy.”

He speaks with such contempt, it makes her feel violated, unclean. Is this what she bought with her ignorant pride? A man so bent on destroying himself in darkness that he despises any ray of sun?

“Is that how it’s going to be, then?” Thalia asks, her voice clogged with tears. “If you truly hate me so much, you can leave. I’ll release you from your servitude.”

“Ah, ah, not so fast.” His smile is grim. “You can’t do that, and you know it. Think about it. They’re already talking, every single one of them who was in that room. Whispering to each other. That you were too lenient. That you looked upon me too favorably. You put on a good show, my lady, but everyone saw.” He tilts his head, voice going gravely and low. “If you let me walk out of here, you might lose them completely.”

Thalia’s knees begin to shake, her palms sweaty. He’s right.

Of course he’s right.

“You are only as powerful as your people allow you to be,” says Thom Rainier. “I thought I taught you that, but it turned out you were a pretty fool after all.”

With a frustrated cry, she launches herself at him, this much taller, much stronger man. She swings her arm — to strike or punch or claw, she isn’t sure. He snatches her easily by the wrist, staying her. His grip tightens and tightens. She feels the small bones at the base of her hand grind against each other. Impassively, he pulls her toward him, holding her up so that she must stand on tip-toes, off-balance.

“I thought you would be grateful,” she whispers, wincing.

He brings his face closer to hers, eyes narrowed. She is aware he is a man who is so good at killing he’s made a career of it. His voice is as low as a threat. “Know that I would gladly be the Icarus to your certainty.”

Icarus, of course: the old Tevene myth. A man with wings of wax, flying too near the sun, and plummeting. She feels herself melting this close to his lips. Pain shoots down her arm.

“You’re— you’re hurting me.” She sounds weak, afraid.

He releases her. Thalia stumbles back, hand tingling. Her whole limb smarts. She cradles her tender wrist close to her chest and stares at him without comprehension.

He turns his back on her. “Now. Get out of my sight.”

It is fully dark outside. Thalia trudges across the courtyard. The crickets have never been so loud.

#thalia trevelyan #blackwall #blackwall x trevelyan #hurt no comfort #heavy angst #i tried to be good and write fluff for february and LOOK AT ME NOW TEAM #fics #dragon age drunk writing circle

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eggplantgirlwonder · 1 year ago

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Tumblr should love this app since it seems to be setting up a season long gag about shoelaces

Like any respectable millennial confronting the harsh, creeping reality of the ever-quickening passage of time, I've recently become more aware of some of life's universal constants: death, taxes, Ticketmaster being a dick, and the sinking suspicion that the implementation of universal healthcare in the US is going to be the world's longest running Shaggy Dog story.

And so post hoc, ergo propter hoc, I've had the thought that maybe if I'm lucky I can avoid the inevitable crush of capitalism-driven-health-care costs by, like, moving my body more regularly? Thankfully, capitalism and popular mass media was ready to help take my money in assisting me with this so-called ~exercise~ endeavor, which is why today I'm going to be reviewing/documenting my experience trying out Six to Star's Marvel Move

Six to Start is the company behind Zombies, Run! which is a story-based running app set during a zombie apocalypse where you run while characters narrate the world/plot in short audio clips. They've since expanded to doing story-based exercise in all manner of genres, and must be doing very well for themselves since they recently were able to get themselves an official Marvel© brand licensing deal. Marvel Move currently has three different Marvel-based stories that you can run to: a Thor (and Loki) story, a Hulk story, and an X-Men story. In the future, there's going to be a Daredevil story (which based on the artwork should have Black Widow as a character) and a Dr. Strange story as well. The world is definitely comic-based, not MCU based, as far as I can tell -- the X-Men story is set in the current comic status quo of Krakoa being a thing, and the Thor story's got Asgard being, like, a space thing again and not a tourist trap in Norway. Helpfully, the Thor (and Loki) story has a couch-to-5k training variation for people like me who last did a run at the behest of a dead president for high school. The couch-to-5k training incrementally lures you into running like you're a wimpy kid scared to jump into a pool, for the first episode there was a 10 minute warm up walk, then an alternating 10-set of 1 minute walks to 15 second runs, and finally another 10 minutes to freestyle run/job/brisk walk as you see fit. The story - so far - is that you're a lucky (?) every-day mortal who joined a running club that turned out to be ... more than that. It's not entirely clear why an Asgardian Valkyerie is moonlighting as a fitness instructor in the human realm, or why she's making humans run through a magical landscape under the guise of it being a visualization meditation (???) but your character and your fellow human runners are given a magical trance playlist that helps you Roll With It. Unfortunately, Shit Happens, and your character's journey goes from rainbows and unicorns to, "Hey, turns out you're important, so I'm kidnapping you to Asgard For Reasons." It's an intriguing set up, and the incorporation of the stop and go run training into the story-line works well. You don't meet Thor (and Loki) until the end, but it's clear you're going to be hanging out with the big names as the story progresses which is nice. Also, the voice actor they have playing Thor is Norwegian but he speaks English with a Scottish accent? Which is just delightful. Anyway, I did episode one yesterday and surprisingly survived? 15 seconds is remarkably quicker than I anticipated. My times are terrible (the ghost of JFK would be very disappointed in me), but I'm hoping to improve and having fun the program so far. I'll probably continue to post updates on this if I wind up committing to, like, not dying young of preventable heart disease.

#Marvel Move #Six to Start #Zombies Run #Scottish Thor is a vibe #running

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andietries · 11 days ago

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Look. Look, how do I start? I’m not sure if it’s because I was expecting another thing (that’s probably it) or because it truly was meant to leave that impression, but the musical was kind of a deception to me. There was a rumor that Tim Burton made the second movie because of the musical and I can totally believe it

Anyways, What kind of amateur critic on Tumblr would I be if I did not say both positive and negative things? (Just some, I don't want to bore you)

From Act 1:

Positive things:

-Love the intro number. The transition from the ballad to the whole being dead thing is great. It gives a good perspective to both characters. It engages with the audience, which is always appreciate, even tho after paying who would leave, am I right?

-I particulary liked how Betelgeuse was , like, just hanging around the Maitlands. He created a parasocial/paranormal relationship, if you catch my drift

-Say my name was a great song, had the Friend like me vibes

-The banana-oh scene is really well made. It reasembled the og material and the ensemble singing was harmonically pleasing

-The scenario changing was good, but I guess that's more related to budget

Negative things:

-Lydia's characterization is too different. I feel like her motivations for going up the roof could have been explored a bit more Maybe if we had a glimpse about how she was like before the funeral. It's not a bad character, just it's so ooc to be considered Same goes with Charles and Delia.

-The song in which the Maitlands are presented, not my thing

-Betelgeuse mommy issues, like, as a whole, also not my thing. And also, Lawrence? really

Act 2

Ok, here is when things start just to go weird, but not in a good way

Good things

-When they do the haunting house, ooc from the original, but the number was good. So thoughtful they did not scare too hard the scoutgirl, but then she would have stayed there. It would have been funny

-Miss Argentina, she slayed

-Otho, honestly, that guy. He also slayed. The two of them should have have to carry the whole act. A shame they don't interact

Negative (just a few)

-I absolutely despised the "Creepy Old Man" number. Not sure if it was because I didn't like the instrumental, the fact that they wouldn't stop repeating the same thing over and over again. Please, it's supposed to be a parody of the trope of Death and MaideN, I ALREADY KNOW

-Speaking of songs, the way they mixed Shake, shake señora with the Dead Mom theme?????? Not my thing. Also, pretty mean that they don't let the guy who carried the whole show not be in the finale number????????

-The end. It happens too fast. So ooc of Betelgeuse from both the original and the musical. Are you telling me that after surviving and domesticating the Sandworm that was the REASON you couldn't leave in first place? Make it eat Juno, saving everybody, YOU'RE LETTING YOURSELF GET DRAGGED TO LITERAL HELL WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!?

Anyways, it would be really hypocrite of me if I didn't say that I quite enjoyed watching it and that I have added some of the songs to my music playlist.

So, a solid 6/10

#Worth mentioning that I obviously didn't see it live #but a recording #beetlejuice musical #my ramblings #review #long rambling #beetlejuice

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witchangelnekora · 11 months ago

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"Warm Light", a SKZ One-shot

Note: I wrote this after a really bad breakup, I used my name in the tale,but you can replace it with your own if you want. Also, the outfits all resemble Felix's from when he wore the beautiful prince like suit last year.

“Warm Light”

By Nekora

=================================================

My heart was broken,

Feeling like my body had ceased to exist,

My limbs, my chest, my head,engulfed in a shadow,

Swallowed up by pain in my soul,

Numb and feeling like i was a phantom,

My heart felt empty and shattered.

Everything around me went black,

I felt my hands reach over to my bedside table,

Picking up a set of headphones as i slid them on my ears,

Turning on a playlist i had saved in my phone,

Slowly falling asleep.

My eyes were heavy,

My thoughts weighing down on me,

Feeling empty inside,

I succumbed into slumber

Not knowing what was about to happen next.

As my mind slipped into an unconscious state,

The music in my headphones changed to a song that meant a lot to me,

“Cover Me’ by Stray Kids.

Suddenly, i dreamt i was in a strange, beautiful garden,

An eden like paradise covered in flowers,

A clear pond in the center of the place with an ornate,

White pagoda in the middle,

a golden bridge connecting it to the grass in front of me.

“Where am i?” i asked.

“I’m scared….where is everyone? I don’t know where i am…”

“Don’t worry. You’re safe here.”

I heard a voice, it sounded like a deep yet comforting whisper in the wind,

Along with seven other voices accompanying the first.

“Is everything ok?”

“Are you alright?”

“Do you need anything? Maybe a hug?”

“Your face, it’s covered in tears…”

“They’ve been crying, but why?”

“Maybe something bad happened?”

“Then, let’s make ourselves known.”

Just like that,

A flash of light came forth,

And eight figures came walking through the bright light,

Each dressed like a prince,

Their clothes in eight different colors,

Like a walking rainbow.

“H-hello?” I ask, scared and confused,

Trembling like a leaf and watching as the light faded behind the eight men.

“Anohangsayo, We are Stray Kids!” All of them said in unison, giving a bow.

But as the man in a beautiful red and black uniform walked up to me, i flinched,

Letting out a squeak of fear.

“Hey, are you alright?” He asked, gently lifting my face to his.

“No…” I hoarsely choked out, holding in more tears.

“What’s your name?”

“Nekora….” My voice was soft, unsure of what to say.

“There’s no need to be scared, I’m Bang Chan, or you can call me Chris if you want. What happened, Nekora?”

“I got my heart shattered…A guy i loved gave up on me, said he couldn’t do it anymore,

I thought i would love him forever…but my heart now feels empty, broken..

Like i shouldn’t exist anymore. Like i should erase everything.”

I felt the tears fall again,

The salty liquid stinging my eyes,

Falling upon my cheeks as it felt like fire,

Coughing and sniffling as i felt Chan’s hand on my back,

Telling me to breathe slow as i looked into his dark brown eyes,

Feeling myself start to breathe normally again.

“Never say that. Erasing yourself from the world….

That won’t fix anything. Heartbreak hurts,yes.

But…things will get better.” He said.

The second man walked up to me, wearing an emerald colored suit that complimented his dark red hair,

A shining silver piercing was under his right eyebrow,

Glimmering in the sunshine.

His face was like looking like a beautiful painting,

With soft, pale skin and calm brown eyes.

“A-And you are?” I said, still shaky in the voice.

“Hyunjn Hwang, but you can simply call me Hyunjn.” He smiled, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“You feel cold…Is this because of your heart?”

I Nodded,

Knowing the breakup made me feel numb inside,

The crying from before stopped all my emotions,

Feeling like a shell of what i once was.

“Your heart…It feels like ice,

It feels like someone took a hammer to it.” Hyunjin said.

“Don’t worry. It may feel like you won’t love again, but it takes time to heal.””

He put his hand where my heart was,

It felt like the pain went away,

Like my heart began to beat once again,

But slow and steady.

The third and fourth men walked up next, dressed in stunning shades

Of orange and pink, one bringing me a blanket,

The other bringing a box of tissues and a glass of water.

The one in Pink had a kind face, mochi like cheeks and strong arms,

The one in orange had a smile like a Quokka, warm and sweet,

Like a freshly made pancake.

They brought me to a nearby bench and sat me down.

“Here. Drink this and wipe those tears. I’m Han and my friend in Pink here is Changbin.” Han smiled as i took the glass and a tissue,

Wiping away the tears from my worn,

Shadowy face.

I felt Changbin wrap the blanket around my body,

As i saw his lips curl into a smile,

I suddenly felt my own lips form a soft smirk,

The shadows beginning to wane from my hands,

Letting out a soft “Thank you.”

“You know, It sucks to have your heart broken.

It feels like someone ripped part of your soul out of your body,

By someone you thought you could trust.” Changbin said.

“But, things get better. You need to breathe,

Take care of yourself, prioritize your own health first.

Listen to what your heart says.” Han said.

The next two walked up, dressed in Yellow and a soft, calming blue.

The one in yellow had a cute fox plush in his hands,

While the one in blue brought a small plate with a brownie on it,

They smiled at me, bringing chairs over to sit on in front of me.

“We could see you were stressed, and that’s not good.

Seungmin here brought you a brownie to nibble on, to calm your nerves.

And i brought you a plushie to hold,

Those always help me when i’m sad. I’m Jeongjin,

But everyone calls me I.N.”

“Thank you…” I whispered again.

“I can tell this really hurt you…did you love them?” Seungmin asked.

“I thought i did. He was kind, accepted me, treated me like someone

That deserved to feel human again. I’ve been hurt too much,

And i’m sick of it.”

“Sounds like they never truly loved you. Did they ever tell you they did?”

“No.”

“Then he didn’t deserve you.” I.N said as he handed me the plush,

It’s cute face making my smile widen a little. “If he truly loved you,

He’d have told you, and made you feel like you belonged.”

“He’s right.” Another voice chimed in.

The seventh of the men walked up to me,

Dressed in pale purple with a pin on the lapel in the shape

Of a bunny,

His face reminded me of a calm ocean,

He knelt down and hugged me, tears falling on his shoulder,

Softly hiccuping.

“I’m Lee Know…I heard everything you said to them,

And you didn’t deserve any of what you went through,

Not at all. You should’ve told him all of this…why didn’t you?” He asked,pulling away a little to wipe away my tears.

“Because, i guess i was looking through Rose tinted glasses, not realizing all the red flags. He was more focused on his career, never telling me he loved me, when we made love, it was like sleeping with a man made of cardboard, not full of excitement��It was loveless. It was just…empty. He hardly cuddled me, and he wouldn’t stop bringing up his more successful ex…It made me feel like crap.” I choked out, tears spilling from my eyes once again as i clutched the plush doll close to my chest and wrapped the blanket around my body.

“You didn’t deserve any of that.” Came one final voice.

I looked up, my eyes bloodshot from crying hard, but i took my glasses off,

Wiped my tears away and put them back on, i saw a man with blonde hair that reminded me of sunshine, Brown eyes that gave off a kind aura as i looked at him,dressed in all white with a beautiful diamond brooch on his suit, his right arm hidden by a cloak as he walked towards me, his face looked angelic, with freckles that dotted along his cheeks and the bridge of his nose,

Resembling stars in the night sky….one was even shaped like a heart on his cheek.

“And you are?” I hiccuped.

“I’m Felix. I heard everything you said as well, and…all of us here have went through identical moments in life, finding love and losing it, being in a loveless relationship, having our eyes covered by wool and not realizing the person we’re with isn’t good for us at all…” He said, gently cupping my chin and looked in my eyes, leaning up to plant a soft kiss on my forehead. “You deserve much better in life, someone that’ll actually love you, treat you right, heal your wounded heart, and bring forward the best feelings you’ll ever feel in your life. Someone that accepts every part of you, no matter what.”

I felt the last of my shadows fade away,

As if his kiss helped me calm down, my heart felt warm again,

My chest radiated light, a warm, comforting light,

Like a fireplace that was lit in my soul,

i felt happy again.

“Thank you…all of you.

Chan, I.N, Changbin, Hyunjin, Felix, Seungmin,Lee Know, Han…

Thank you so much…” I choked out, my eyes shut as tears once again fell from my eyes,

But this time,

They were happy tears.

Just then, i felt something in my hands.

I opened my eyes, it was a lightstick,

It had a beautiful silver compass star in the middle, surrounded by a red circle,

Enclosed in a dome,

But i looked around and saw all of them holding an identical lightstick in their hands,

With Chris nodding at me with a smile.

“No matter where you are, what you’re doing, you’ll always have us on your side.” He said.

“We’ll be with you, no matter what.” Hyunjin piped up.

“Whenever you need a hug, or kind words, just picture us in your mind.” Han smiled.

“You’re a part of STAY as well, you know. You make Stray Kids stay, after all.” I.N chuckled.

“When we give the word, raise your lightstick up in the air, ok?” Lee Know said, smirking.

“Don’t worry, We’ll always be with those that bring happiness to others. It’ll all be ok.” Changbin said, his kind eyes sparkling a little.

“Now, are you ready? We want to let you wake up with a smile.” Seungmin said, smiling as well.

“Raise it up now, along with us. One, two, three….” Felix said as they all raised their lightsticks in the air, and once i took a deep breath….

….I did too.

From all of the lightsticks, a shining silver light came from the center,

The sky peppered with stars everywhere, twinkling and glimmering.

I could make out the different patterns in the sky, resembling their SKZOO selves…

I saw Wolf Chan, Bbokari, Dwaekki, FoxI.Ny, Leebit, Jiniret,PuppyM,and finally Hanquokka…they were smiling at me.

Before i woke up, i felt them all walk up to me and wrap their arms around me in a giant hug…

It felt so comforting,

I wanted to cry,

But i couldn’t.

All i could do was smile.

I felt one final kiss on my forehead…

….And my alarm was going off.

I woke up with a smile,

My headphones falling off my head as i whispered…

“Thank you.

My heart will heal soon,

Thanks to you all.”

#stray kids #stray kids fluff #wholesome #heartwarming #healing from heartbreak #stray kids story

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btscontentenjoyer · 2 years ago

Text

Aaah, M, you were not lying about this Joon being amazing! He was so adorable and the easiest person to fall in love with. I genuinely had a smile on my face the whole time I was reading this and I loved so many quotes and moments, as you'll be able to see.

"Rudely awoken by the incessant beep of your alarm, you open your eyes to find Nick Jonas staring back at you, and you sit up with a scream." Lmaooo best possible start to a fic, hands down. I laughed out loud and from here on it just got better.

"Jungkook, the weird, bug-eyed kid who put his toe-socked feet on your couch, drank his banana milk out of your favorite mug, and ate up all of your Samyang ramyeon because he ‘thought it was communal’." Okay I literally can't stop laughing. I found this so so funny.

"A blur of red and white is suddenly circling around and between your legs, and you feel something twining over your ankles, then tugging with a force that threatens to knock you off balance. As you lean forward in an attempt to right yourself, the chaos in question slows enough for you to realize it’s a fluffy white dog in a red sweater, who has excitedly tangled you up in his leash." Moni creating chaos in his adorable sweater 🥺🥺🥺

"Despite his lack of clothing in the cool winter air, you can see his face and neck are slick with sweat, his white-blonde hair damp with it too. There’s even a dark patch that’s soaked his shirt at his sternum, making the firm swell of his pecs that much more apparent. It takes you an extra second to break eye contact with them, but when you do finally manage to drag your gaze up to meet his, you realize his face is just as nice of a view: honey-tan skin, full lips, and cute dimples that pop as he gives a sheepish, appreciative laugh." This description had me feeling like I was the one doing a run, damn.

Also seeing that the coffee shop's name was Indigo made me smile. And all of the hand-made paintings and plants made it sound like such a delightful place 🥺🥺🥺

“Oh, shit,” Namjoon murmurs, and then he raises his voice to call across the mostly empty store. “Jimin-ah! I’m so sorry!” He is literally the cutest and most adorable omg. I predict that I'll be saying that again but I don't care, it needs to be said.

"You give your boss five more minutes, wherein he scalds his hand on the milk steamer, forgets about a cookie in the warmer until it’s burnt entirely black, and nearly turns the blender on with the lid off, before you finally intervene." What an incredibly endearing dork.

"Still, it’s hard to ignore, particularly as he continues to rap along to each song that comes on, his voice deeper and huskier than you’ve heard it thus far in casual conversation. He doesn’t miss a word, and you can’t deny that it’s impressive. And sexy. Fuck." Literally everything about this man is, even including his clumsiness. It all adds to his overwhelming charm.

“Whose fucking kid is that?” you say automatically, blinking, dumbfounded. Namjoon’s laugh is a low rumble behind you." Lmaoo I love OC as well, I think she's hilarious.

“Uh, yeah,” he continues, explaining like you’re stupid. “The original. Last Christmas by Wham!” When it’s clear you still aren’t putting the pieces together, he scoffs in pure frustration. “You just made me lose Whamageddon! I’ve won every year for the last five years, I can’t believe you would even put this on your fucking playlist!” Ah, the beauty of working a customer service job 😌😌😌

"Namjoon goes silent for a minute, and you try to ignore the way the look on his face makes your pulse quicken, thudding brightly in the hollow of your neck. His voice is deadly serious when he speaks again. “I appreciate that you’re upset, but if you’re going to look my employee in the face, after she just performed a service for you, and disrespect her like that? Over a fucking song? Nah, I’m not gonna tolerate it. Maybe the next time you want someone to make you a toothpaste drink, you should take your ass to Starbucks.” He is so fucking sexy wtf. And I love the mint choco slander, he just had to point it out lmao.

“I think my dad has been happier since you started working here.” 🥺🥺🥺 This whole conversation between Sol and OC was just way too sweet. OC said that she wasn't very good with kids but it was so cute to see her try and interact with them. You can really tell that someone cares about you when they put in effort with your loved ones and that's exactly what she did with Namjoon's kid 🥺🥺🥺

"You wonder if you’ll ever be able to take in how shock looks on Namjoon’s features without giggling a little. Today is certainly not that day. It’s just so endearing, the way his eyes widen and his mouth pulls into a perfect o-shape." Aaah so cuteee.

“Thanks. But I just do it for fun. ‘Cause I love art.” 🥺🥺🥺

"He shakes his head, the corner of his mouth pulling up just so. “Nah. I actually think Sol really likes you. At least, they wouldn’t stop asking questions about you at dinner last night.” Glad to see Sol doing an immaculate job with the investigation, never doubted them for a second.

“Sol turned to me, and they said, ‘This is the best Christmas ever, because we get to hang out, just the two of us.’” He blinks a few times, like he’s trying to ward off tears, and his voice comes back slightly less steady than before. “I still don’t know if they said that because they really meant it, or if they could just tell that I needed to hear it. But either way, I thought to myself: how fucking lucky am I, to have such a great kid? Like what did I ever do to deserve them? I still feel that way.” The best dad in the world with the best kid in the world. But what he said is so true though, growing up my parents put in a lot of effort into making the holidays amazing for us even when they sometimes didn't have the material means to do so, and looking back on all of it now, I don’t remember the presents but the experiences and memories we made together. And I think that goes for any time of the year, special occasion or not, that our most cherished memories are the ones with people we love in them, not necessarily the ones with fancy things.

“I’m sorry you don’t feel the magic right now. I didn’t either, for a long time. But it does come back, I believe that. It’ll come back for you, too.” This was so so comforting to read, especially since this year I wasn't feeling festive at all for some reason.

“You’re so bad at being a dog!” Sol shouts, and that’s enough to make you and Namjoon both dissolve into laughter. They look up at the sound, hands-on-hips, before yelling again, this time in your direction. “My dad said he has a crush on you!”

“Damn, dude, you said you were gonna be chill about it!” he exclaims, and you press a hand to your mouth as a fresh wave of giggles overtakes you. Given how long Namjoon’s legs are, it only takes him a few strides to catch up to Sol. You stay a tentative distance behind him, but still close enough to be able to make out their conversation.

“Uncle Hobi says you need to be bolder with women,” Sol chides, matter-of-fact." Lmaoooo I love Sol and Moni's characters. And all of the interactions between Namjoon and Sol are so wholesome and funny.

“It’s weighed really heavy on me, if I’m honest,” he says solemnly, and you glance over to see him staring into the middle distance, like he’s deep in contemplation." Of course, because he's the most considerate person in the world and even his overthinking proves that.

"In true Namjoon fashion, he uses way more strength than is necessary for the task, and though your winter jacket cushions you from the impact, you’re smacked against the bark so hard that it knocks a dusting of snow off the branches above you, covering you both in flakes that stick to your hair and eyelashes. The sudden rush of cold makes you gasp into Namjoon’s mouth, but then he’s rolling his tongue over yours and you can’t think about anything else. A heavy pulse has started to thud between your legs at the heat of his breath in your mouth, the way his hips have you pinned to the tree, his body big enough to cover yours entirely." Namjoon's clumsiness makes for a very memorable and cinematic kiss at least. Loved the description of this scene, I was able to picture it so vividly.

“Yes, sir,” you tease in response, and you don’t miss the color that flushes his cheeks." Okayy 🤭🤭🤭

"His voice comes out surprisingly soft. “This is one of my favorite things to do during the holidays. Thought it might help with, you know. The magic.” Aaah he's the sweetest. This scene with the lights really was magical to read though and I loved it.

“But, here I am. Still alive.” Namjoon flashes you a grin, and you find yourself smiling back. “Still figuring it out. I actually feel like I’ve learned a lot from watching Sol grow up. They’re like—” He shakes his head, as if at a momentary loss for words. “They’re like a different person every month, I swear. What they’re into, how they dress. Who they wanna be. It makes me feel, I don’t know. Like it’s okay. Like I can change too.” He shrugs. “That’s the thing about life. It’s long. And even when you feel like it’s ended… it keeps going anyway.” Oh wow, I really really appreciate this reminder and I'll try to keep it in mind when I inevitably need it again.

"He cups one in each hand, and though you might’ve expected him to be clumsy or rough, given everything you’ve seen of him thus far, you’re surprised to instead find that he’s gentle, thumbs circling your nipples with just the right amount of pressure to tighten them into stiff peaks." Honestly, the juxtaposition between his clumsiness and how gentle he is with OC makes him all that much hotter. It means he's really taking care to treat her right, in my opinion.

“I hate that I’m even saying this,” he rasps, “but I really can’t have sex in a car. I’m too—”

“Big?” you offer, and there’s a smile on his lips as he presses a kiss to your temple.

“I was going to say old.” Lmaooo, both of those are very valid reasons.

"Your elbows dig into the kitchen island as you press your hands to your mouth, as if to physically hold in your laughter. “Did you… halve everything in the recipe except the wine?” I would have busted my ass laughing ngl.

"His dimples deepen as his eyes search yours, and his voice is lower in his throat when he responds. “I think that fool was just sayin’ words because a pretty girl asked him a question.” Aaand I'm officially nothing but a puddle on the floor omg.

“Yeah?” he replies, and your nose bumps against his shoulder as you nod. “Me too. Well, I-I’m clean, I mean. I’m not on the pill.” jwbsidbeu I can't with this man anymore lmaooo.

The smut is immaculate as always, of course. There's just always the right amount of dirty talk to make it hot and yet it's never too much or too distracting. And the way that this Joon was already so hot was just amplified in the sex scene, I love him.

“Thank you,” you breathe. “For the magic.” And the cutest ending too aaawww.

Thank you, M, for the magic, because this was just delightful to read and as I said I could not stop smiling until the end of this story.

real magic (explicit)

genre: smut, fluff, bangin’ your boss, m attempts kidfic - part of a hyung holiday collab !

pairing: namjoon x reader

summary: the holiday season has never meant anything to you beyond suffering long hours for minimum wage and awaiting the collapse of capitalism— but this year, you’d be willing to add making out with your dilf coffee shop boss to the list.

word count: 16.7k 😩

contains: ~*~explicit sexual content (after kind of a slow burn sorry lol)~*~ the "moving back to your hometown" hallmark trope, a nick jonas poster (yes that's a warning), some taekook slander in the beginning because i thought it was funny, namjoon is so buff and so dumb but so wise and so hot, moni is a little shit, namjoon is a dad!, namjoon's kid uses they/them pronouns but it's not like A Focus of the story it's just flavor, reader thinks joon has a dead wife for like one second 💀 mentions of teenage pregnancy and co-parenting, one incredibly stupid asshole customer lmao, mint choco slander (it's what namjoon would want 😌), obviously there is an employee/boss power dynamic but they talk about it and figure it out because this is namjoon and he overthinks everything, namjoon driving (he's a dad i have to assume he would get his license if he had a literal child!!!!!!!!) and a lotta sentimental holiday and life talk. here are ur sex specific warnings: making out/going to second base in a car in a parking lot (what is it with my namjoons and cars in parking lots yo), fingering, semi-drunk sex, and fuckin' rawwwww with a smidge of size and breeding kink lmao (but she's on the pill!!! no more kids!!!!!!)

A/N: hello hello hi merry crisis this damn fic is finally here lmao~ as i have been babbling on about for days i really really (REALLY) love how this namjoon turned out he's just hesjkrgdhtgk such a fucking himbo but a good dad and wise and did i mention hot aaaaaa 🫠 all the love in my gay little heart to @haliiimede for beta reading this 50 million times and encouraging me when i was convinced it sucked ass, and also for making all the gorgeous banners for this collab 😭 which btw - be sure to go check out @gimmethatagustd & @haliiimede & @nabiolive 's fics tooooo !!! i've loved collabing with them so very much even when we were all hashtag Going Through It, we got the whole damn hyung line you hear meeeeee 🎁🎁🎁🎁

will be on AO3 soon i'm feelin lazy~ !

Rudely awoken by the incessant beep of your alarm, you open your eyes to find Nick Jonas staring back at you, and you sit up with a scream.

Realization washes over your sleep-addled brain in waves: first, that you aren’t actually staring at a real person. He’s just smizing on a hot pink poster, held up by some remarkably durable masking tape you stuck to the wall fifteen years ago. Second, it comes back to you that you are staring at said poster because you’ve woken up in your childhood bedroom. It’s been left untouched since you were a teenager, like a weird time capsule of all your high school obsessions.

After reaching for your phone to silence the alarm, you kick your way out from under the blankets, trying not to make eye contact with Nick, or Justin, or Zayn as you stumble to the bathroom. The circumstances of your grand return to living in your goddamn parents’ house linger like a bad taste in your mouth, one that all the tongue brushing in the world can’t remove.

It still doesn’t feel real. Taehyung, your best friend in the world since freshman year of college, kicked you out. Sure, it may have been phrased more like a gentle request, but as far as your ego is concerned, it still feels like exile. Banishment, even. The person you thought you could never be parted from made his choice, and he chose his fucking boyfriend over you.

Jungkook. You think the name with all the venom your cold, dead heart can manage as you spit toothpaste into the sink.

Jungkook, the weird, bug-eyed kid who put his toe-socked feet on your couch, drank his banana milk out of your favorite mug, and ate up all of your Samyang ramyeon because he ‘thought it was communal’.

Jungkook, who ruined your sleep schedule nightly, either by fucking Taehyung senseless on the other side of your paper-thin apartment wall, or by blasting the same four Ariana Grande songs over and over on his bluetooth speaker and singing along in an annoyingly good voice. Either activity would go on well into the early hours of the morning, until you had to bang on the wall so hard you nearly put your fist through it.

Jungkook, whose dog once took a shit right on the floor in the middle of the kitchen.

Bam was cute enough to forgive, of course. But you can never forgive Taehyung for his betrayal. Especially when he knew you’d just been fired from your shitty coffee shop job for the stupidest reason ever, and he didn’t let that derail or even delay him. He still went ahead and delivered the killing blow.

Et tu, Taehyung? you think angrily to yourself as you stand in front of the suitcase containing as much of your closet as you could possibly fit. You still need to go back for your bigger furniture, and little things like your plates and your mugs and your silverware, which Jungkook is probably putting his grimy little fingers all over at this very moment. But until you’ve checked out of your indefinite vacation at the Nightmare Parental Hotel, there doesn’t really seem a point.

If you were less upset, you might take consolation in the fact that your parents aren’t actually here, that they’ve jaunted off to their timeshare until the new year, but you’re busy being too swallowed whole by your misery to find an ounce of joy in any piece of your current reality.

You dig through the pile of clothes until you manage to pull out something halfway decent. The first order of business now that you’ve moved back in is simple: acquire another stupid coffee shop job. You have no plans to stick around long, you just need something seasonal that will give you some meager income while you start looking for a real gig, one that is ideally not in your hometown.

Watching yourself in the mirror as you pull on a simple black blouse and your least-stained pair of jeans, you attempt to mentally dust off your interview skills. You conjure up your best fake smile and customer service voice, both of which are second-nature at this point.

Why do you want this job? “I’m just so passionate about coming home sticky and verbally abused by caffeine-addicted assholes every night.”

What’s your biggest weakness? “Clearly it’s the fact that I’m a ray of fucking sunshine.”

Why were you terminated from your last job? “Oh, well, I attempted to get my previous employer to improve their standards of worker treatment. You see, I selfishly requested that they raise the bar a single notch above hell. Certainly won’t happen again!”

This should go well, you tell yourself, and your reflection grimaces back.

With several hours to kill before your job interview and a growing desire to avoid the weird nostalgia of your childhood that seems to lurk in every corner of your parents’ house, you decide to take a walk.

The sky is bright blue and cloudless, and though the air is brisk, it isn’t terribly windy. You tuck in your earbuds as you shut the front door behind you and pick a direction, aimless, letting your mind wander to the soundtrack of your “seasonal depression” playlist.

A whole new crop of families must have moved into your parents’ neighborhood in the years since you moved out, because the streets are more alive with kids than you can ever remember them being, even when you were a kid yourself. Bikes and scooters lay abandoned on the sidewalks between homes, and you can hear the repeated echo of a basketball dribbling on a driveway, punctuated by distant, playful screaming.

Even in the daytime, you can tell these families have spared no expense when it comes to Christmas decor: some homes have every eave outlined in string lights, some have candy cane stakes dug into the perimeter of their perfectly manicured lawns, and some have been seemingly invaded by small armies of inflatable reindeer and snowmen. You can’t help but giggle a little at the inflatable decorations that have been set to turn off during the day, the way the airless material lays limp in the grass, giving the impression of a yard strewn with dead bodies.

But you remember what it looked like when you drove in last night, everything lit up and brought to life.

Your parents definitely didn’t have inflatable lawn decorations when you were a kid, but you’d get so excited every year when your dad would drag the ladder out and spend the day stringing up the simple rainbow lights you did have. You still remember the little spark of joy you’d feel in your chest when the colors would click on after dark, the way you would run outside every night just to see them twinkle, your breath puffing steam clouds in the air, your bare feet freezing on the ice-cold driveway.

It felt like magic then. But somewhere along the way you grew up. And now that feeling’s gone. Even at night, the lights just look like… lights.

Distracted as you are by the music in your ears and thoughts of your childhood that have brought you to a standstill on the sidewalk, you don’t notice what’s happening until it’s too late.

A blur of red and white is suddenly circling around and between your legs, and you feel something twining over your ankles, then tugging with a force that threatens to knock you off balance. As you lean forward in an attempt to right yourself, the chaos in question slows enough for you to realize it’s a fluffy white dog in a red sweater, who has excitedly tangled you up in his leash.

You manage to find the looped end of the leash and slowly get yourself unwrapped while the dog continues to pant and jump and occasionally yap at you. With your legs freed, you squat down for a proper greeting, laughing to yourself as he lifts up on his hind legs, balancing his paws on your knee to lick an enthusiastic greeting across your cheek.

“Hi, puppy,” you murmur, trying to get him to hold still long enough to read the name on his tag. A voice beats you to it.

“Moni!”

When you glance up to find Moni’s owner jogging up the sidewalk, you have to make a conscious effort to keep your own tongue in your mouth, because good lord, he is fine.

He’s tall, towering over you even once you bring yourself back up to standing, and the black workout tank and athletic shorts he’s wearing do absolutely nothing to hide the thick, well-defined muscles of his arms, chest, and thighs.

Despite his lack of clothing in the cool winter air, you can see his face and neck are slick with sweat, his white-blonde hair damp with it too. There’s even a dark patch that’s soaked his shirt at his sternum, making the firm swell of his pecs that much more apparent. It takes you an extra second to break eye contact with them, but when you do finally manage to drag your gaze up to meet his, you realize his face is just as nice of a view: honey-tan skin, full lips, and cute dimples that pop as he gives a sheepish, appreciative laugh.

“Thank you,” he says, a little breathless; his voice is deep and slightly husky in a way that makes your face grow hot. You blink stupidly at him for a few moments, your mind reeling, and then it occurs to you that you still have his dog’s leash in your hand.

“No problem,” you manage, handing the looped end back over and double-checking to make sure your ankles are still free from their entanglement. Though now that this man is holding the leash, you kind of wish they weren’t.

“Moni’s usually good about not taking off when I stop to do a circuit,” he explains, like you’re the dog owner police. It makes you wonder what kind of Karens must have moved into this neighborhood since you left it. “I don’t know why he ran, maybe he saw a squirrel or something.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him with a smile, admiring Moni as he stretches and settles into a polite seated pose. “I like his sweater.”

“Thanks,” he laughs again. “C’mon Mon.”

You can’t help focusing on how big this guy’s hands are as he slips his fingers through the end of Moni’s leash, tugging slightly as if to encourage the dog back in the direction he came from.

Moni blinks and stays right where he is.

“You little shit,” his owner huffs under his breath, and you have to bite down on your bottom lip to keep from laughing. You distantly realize you should probably leave them to it and continue on your walk, but this is too entertaining to turn away from now. Your hot neighbor tries one more futile attempt to get Moni to move, then seems to give up entirely.

He stoops down with a low grunt of effort that makes your core flutter as he grabs the fluffy dog and hoists him up in his arms. You try to force yourself to stop noticing the way his biceps flex, the fact that the muscles of his arms are nearly bigger than your head.

“Thanks again,” he says with a final grateful smile, and your only response is to swallow hard and stand there like an idiot as he turns and carries his spoiled dog back home.

When you arrive for your interview, you’re delighted to discover that Indigo Coffee is nothing like your last job. It’s warm and bright, with large picture windows that flood the space in sunlight, and there’s a cozy personal touch to it, the likes of which you’d certainly never see in your former corporate shell of a workplace. The sitting area is dotted with live edge wood tables and mismatched chairs. There are an array of framed paintings on the walls that look handmade in a good way, simple yet bold brush-stroke lines in a deep blue color scheme. And, you realize as your eyes linger, the shop is absolutely overflowing with plants: in simple clay pots lined up along the windows, free-standing between tables, and tucked into bookshelves placed artfully throughout the space.

You step closer to inspect one as you wait on your interviewer and are pleased to see that it’s real, that they all are— no waxy fake leaves jammed into a thick block of cement, but real greenery sprouted in real dirt, deep brown soil gone soft from what must have been a recent watering. These are plants someone cares for, coaxed and kept alive by someone’s time and patience and love. The thought makes you smile a little despite yourself.

There’s still fucking Christmas music playing, but you figure that’s inescapable this time of year.

“Are you here for the interview?” someone asks over your shoulder. As you turn away from the plant, you wonder if you’re imagining that the voice in question sounds slightly familiar, and then you find yourself once again staring up at a fine-ass man with white-blonde hair and a sweet pair of dimples.

He’s clearly showered since your last encounter, and is now slightly more covered up in a pair of faded jeans and a gray-green flannel thrown over a black shirt emblazoned with bold white lettering: Protect Trans Kids.

“Oh.” Moni’s owner blinks back at you, and the shock on his face is so apparent that a giggle escapes your lips before you can stop it. “Uh, hi again.”

“Hi,” you echo, equally flustered, before realizing you failed to answer his initial question. “Oh, yeah. Yes. I am. The interview. I’m— that’s me.” So well-spoken, you mentally kick yourself.

One dimple deepens slightly as he extends a hand. “Kim Namjoon. Owner of Indigo Coffee. And the world’s least obedient dog, as you saw earlier.”

You offer your best handshake in return and a smile that you surprisingly don’t have to force as you give Namjoon your name. He gestures to a table in the corner, and you each pull back a chair to have a seat. You try to banish any potential horny thoughts from your brain, but shifting into interview mode proves difficult as he rests his large hands on the table in front of him, drumming idly along to the horribly cheery music.

You manage to tear your gaze away from Namjoon’s fingers when he speaks again. “If it’s cool with you, we can just chat a little? I’m not so good at conducting formal interviews. Too inauthentic.”

It’s like you can feel some of the tension release from your shoulders. “I— yeah. That sounds great.”

“Cool,” he nods, and you try to ignore the rush of heat up your neck at the intensity of his stare. Professional, be professional. “So I saw on your resume that it looks like your last few jobs were out of town. Did you just move here?”

“Moved back,” you say quickly. “Yeah. I grew up here, actually.”

Namjoon’s eyes widen a little in clear interest. “Really? What brings you back?”

You purse your lips as you consider how to phrase it. “My life… kind of fell apart. So. I moved in with my parents for a bit. Like a winner.” His dimples pop when he smiles at your joke, and you drop your gaze to the table. “Just trying to figure out what’s next, and find something seasonal in the meantime.”

“Well, we could certainly use the help,” Namjoon admits. When you chance a glance up, there’s a look on his face like he’s choosing his next words carefully. “I saw in your application that you were terminated from your last position.” He leans in, lowering his voice slightly as he continues. “I’m gonna be honest, I hate that we even ask that question. But can you tell me a bit about what happened?”

You keep your stare fixed on the wood grain in front of you as you try to stay calm. “Well, if I can be honest too...” Squeezing your eyes shut, you tell yourself to just say it. “I was fired for trying to unionize.”

“Oh.” Namjoon sounds surprised, but you can’t manage to look at him. “Really?” You nod slowly, biting down on your bottom lip. “That’s— fucking illegal.”

That makes your gaze snap back up to meet his. His brow is furrowed slightly, a muscle in his jaw pulled tight.

“Yeah,” you say belatedly. “Yeah, I know. They made up a bunch of fake excuses as to why I was fired, but I knew what it really was. It was because I wanted them to actually pay us what we were worth, and hire more workers so we weren’t being scheduled to death. And I was getting everyone else riled up too, and I guess it scared them.”

Namjoon sits back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. “Huh. Man. Well, I’m sorry that happened to you.”

It takes you a second to process what you’re hearing. Union has always been a scary word for any person in upper management you’ve previously encountered. You hadn’t expected this to be so… easy. For him to understand, or sympathize. “I— yeah. I am too.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Namjoon continues quickly, “I think it’s great, what you tried to do. I’m very pro-union.” He pauses for a moment, his face twisting slightly in thought. “I mean, admittedly, we don’t have one here. Granted, there are only five of us. I should probably ask, though, if they want one.”

You can’t quite hide your smile. “I’m gonna take a guess that you probably treat your employees pretty well as-is.”

“I try,” he says with a shake of his head. His eyes meet yours again. “So, here’s the deal. You have a ton of experience, and with holiday time off and a few people out sick, I’m super understaffed right now. You seem like you have a good head on your shoulders, and hopefully you feel like you can come to me if you have any issues, without fearing retaliation.”

You blink slowly, and he must be able to read the disbelief on your face. “What I’m saying is I’m offering you the seasonal position,” he clarifies. “Is that— do you, uh, accept?”

“Yes.” The word is chased by a dazed laugh, and Namjoon’s dimples resurface around a small smile.

“Cool. I told you I’m bad at interviews,” he huffs, rubbing a hand at the back of his neck. You try to ignore the swell of his bicep, clearly visible even beneath his bulky flannel. “I know this is a lot to ask, but. Is there any chance you can start, like, right now? Because Jimin’s shift ends in…” He tilts a little, fishing his phone from the front pocket of his jeans, and his mouth drops open in surprise when he gets a glimpse at the time.

“Oh, shit,” Namjoon murmurs, and then he raises his voice to call across the mostly empty store. “Jimin-ah! I’m so sorry!”

You turn around, your gaze landing on the barista leaned up against the counter next to the register. His dyed-gray hair dusts over his eyes, which pull into crescent moons as he laughs. “It’s cool. I knew you were almost done. But I’m gonna clock out now, if she’s good?”

“Yeah,” you answer, turning back to Namjoon. “Yeah, I can start now.”

The two of you move behind the counter, and you sweep your hair up out of your face while Namjoon starts to go through a basic run-down of where everything is located. The overhead bell tinkles as Jimin shoulders the front door open, and he lifts a hand over his head in parting.

“See you after the holidays!”

“Alright,” Namjoon says as he waves to Jimin, a little breathless from having rambled on for the better part of several minutes. “That was a lot. Do you want to just start on register? I feel like that should be easy enough, and I can train you on everything as people come in, since it’s pretty dead right now.”

You shrug. “Works for me.”

Within half an hour, there’s a line out the door, and Namjoon has managed to spill espresso grounds all over his shoes for a second time.

“Ah, shit,” he groans, taking a step back. “Sorry. Been a minute since I’ve had to be back here.”

“It’s okay,” you try to reassure him, but you can see from the faces of the customers who have been waiting on their drinks for several minutes— including one who’s had hers remade three times, all of them incorrect— that it is very much not okay. You certainly lack the people skills to smooth over any of Namjoon’s mistakes, and you can feel a stress-induced eye twitch starting to flare up, brought on by Kelly Clarkson’s incessant yuletide belting.

You give your boss five more minutes, wherein he scalds his hand on the milk steamer, forgets about a cookie in the warmer until it’s burnt entirely black, and nearly turns the blender on with the lid off, before you finally intervene.

“Hey, Namjoon?” You do your best to keep your expression pleasant when he glances over at you, wiping at his brow with the back of his hand. “Maybe we should switch?”

“A-are you sure?” he stammers, apparently torn between wanting to be a good boss and a clear desire to just take the L. “I feel bad, this is literally your first shift.”

“I think I can handle it,” you reassure him, lowering your voice a little. “Let me take care of the drinks, and you can do your… endearing golden retriever thing. Keep the people entertained.”

Color blooms in the apples of his cheeks as his dimples make a brief appearance. “Oh, okay. Can do. Just let me know if you need help.”

You can’t imagine a universe where his clumsiness could in any way be considered helpful, but you keep that thought to yourself as you smile at him. At least he’s cute.

Things improve dramatically once your roles are reversed: as you expected, Namjoon is far more charismatic than he is coordinated, and he chats endlessly with the people waiting on their drinks, hardly pausing long enough to take a breath, while you scramble around trying to get your bearings in a new environment. The steady stream of customers doesn’t let up for the rest of the evening, until the last few finally trickle out of the store a few minutes after close, and you waste no time locking the door behind them with a sigh of relief.

You spin around, letting your back thud against the door for a moment as you watch Namjoon fight with a broom and dustpan in a futile attempt to get espresso dust out of the grout between the tiles. There’s a dull ache starting to thud in your skull, and it’s only deepened by the shrill opening notes of another fucking a cappella song.

“Namjoon?” you ask as you cross toward the counter, and his head instantly snaps up. “Do you think we could maybe turn off the Christmas music?”

“Oh, sure.” He’s already fumbling to grab his phone, and he taps a few buttons until the music suddenly switches, a soft voice starting to croon over an old school beat.

“Thanks,” you say, and you can’t help the pity smile that pulls up your mouth when he returns to his useless task. “I think the grout might be a lost cause, but I can go ahead and mop whenever you’re ready.”

He rights himself with a defeated sigh, nodding his head to the storage closet in the back. You follow his lead to retrieve the mop, then set about filling up the bucket with water and cleaning solution. Namjoon’s voice floats in from the front of the shop as he busies himself with his own closing tasks.

“Imagine smokin’ weed in the street without cops harassin’ / Imagine goin’ to court with no trial / Lifestyle cruisin’ blue Bahama waters / No welfare supporters, more conscious of the way we raise our daughters...”

You’re laughing a little as you roll the bucket out, starting at the door to work your way back. “Is this… Nas?”

He glances up, like he’s just remembered other people exist in the world. “Yeah, sorry. I can turn it off.”

“No, no,” you say quickly when he starts to reach for his phone again. “This is good. Much better than Pentatonix. I’m just… you really know every word.”

Namjoon shrugs, clearly embarrassed. “He’s my favorite.”

The revelation surprises you, and you pause to think as you pull the mop back and forth over the tile floor. It didn’t even occur to you that Namjoon would have a favorite kind of music, apart from the soft elevator muzak you imagine must play on a steady loop in his brain, given the way he fumbles through life.

“I actually wanted to be a rapper,” his voice comes back, and you look up again, your interest piqued. “When I was younger. But you know. Life had other plans.”

“Ah yes, the rapper to coffee shop owner pipeline,” you muse, and he barks a laugh that you wish you didn’t find so hot. Shaking your head, you force yourself to look back down at the espresso-studded tile, doing your best to shove your attraction aside and not think about it. He’s your boss, dumbass.

Still, it’s hard to ignore, particularly as he continues to rap along to each song that comes on, his voice deeper and huskier than you’ve heard it thus far in casual conversation. He doesn’t miss a word, and you can’t deny that it’s impressive. And sexy. Fuck.

Once the floor has been successfully mopped and everything else is put back together, you hop up onto the counter to wait for the tile to dry, and your gaze lingers over Namjoon’s large hands as he cashes out the register. He flips through the bills in time to the music, still humming under his breath as he goes, and you do your best to hold in your laugh when he inevitably loses count and has to start over from the beginning. Thankfully the second attempt sticks, and he smiles proudly to himself as he zips everything up into the deposit bag.

“First shift down,” he announces, as if you might have forgotten, and then his eyes find yours and you swear your breath gets stuck in your throat. “How do you feel?”

It only occurs to you now how close he’s standing to you, and with the way your legs are casually dangling over the edge of the counter, it wouldn’t take much for him to step between them. And god, he’s so damn tall, you’re practically eye-to-eye.

“Uh,” you manage, your mouth suddenly gone dry. “Good. I feel good.”

“That’s good,” he answers, his voice dipping into that throaty tone again. You find yourself wondering absentmindedly if maybe Namjoon has a customer service voice, too, and then for the briefest flash of a moment, his gaze flits from your eyes to your lips and back again. It’s so quick, you can’t be sure it even really happened.

You tell yourself it’s just your exhausted post-shift brain seeing things that aren’t there, wanting this fine-ass man to be into you, too.

A sudden bang on the front door makes you flinch so hard, you come dangerously close to kneeing Namjoon in the crotch. He takes a large step back as you whip around to look over your shoulder, only to see a kid’s face pressed to the glass, framed by two small hands. You’ve never been great at telling the age of children on sight, but this one looks like… maybe a middle schooler?

“Whose fucking kid is that?” you say automatically, blinking, dumbfounded. Namjoon’s laugh is a low rumble behind you.

“That would be mine.”

It takes several days for the shock to wear off. Your boss has a kid. Kim “could’ve burnt the building down with a single cookie” Namjoon is at least partially responsible for keeping another human being alive. Which means you have a crush… on a father.

A father who also happens to be your boss.

You try not to think about any of it.

There’d been brief introductions when you left the shop that first night, but all you’d really managed to glean was the kid’s name, Sol, and their pronouns. As someone who is historically terrible with children, you’d excused yourself the minute Namjoon locked the front door, after what felt like an eternity spent watching him pat each of his pockets twice before he finally managed to find his keys.

“I hope it wasn’t weird,” your boss says out of nowhere in the middle of your next shift, during a much-needed moment of peace after the morning rush. “For you to meet Sol like that. It’s just been hard, since their mom, uh…”

Namjoon trails off, leaving the sentence unfinished. You glance up, eyes widening as you put the pieces together.

“Oh my god,” you breathe. “I’m so sorry.”

His gaze meets yours, and it’s like you can see the wheels in his head turning before he catches up. “No, no,” he says quickly, and then he starts to laugh. “Wow, I really did not start that sentence well. She’s not dead. She just got married, and she’s on her honeymoon for most of December. The logistics have been hard, is what I meant.”

An embarrassed heat creeps up your neck, and your elbows thud against the countertop as you press your face into your hands, attempting to muffle your own laughter. “In my defense,” you groan, “you really made it sound like you had a dead wife.”

“Not dead! She’s fine!” Namjoon’s dimples are as prominent as you’ve ever seen them when you peek up at him from your full-body cringe. “Very much alive, very much not my wife.” The muscles in his arms flex as he crosses them over his chest, leaning up against the counter next to the register. “Never was, actually.”

“Really?” you answer automatically, your damned curiosity getting the better of you.

He nods, his voice a little more serious when he continues, rambling on in the way that you’ve already started to suspect is his default setting, talking as if to fill empty space. “We were seventeen when we got pregnant. I knew we were young then, but I don’t think I really realized. Now that I’m almost thirty, I know: seventeen is fucking young.”

The line of his jaw tightens, thoughtful, as his gaze sweeps over the floor. “I thought I wanted to marry her, or at least felt obligated to. Like it was the right thing to do, but. We didn’t have any money, and then it all got so hectic after Sol was born. Didn’t even take a year for us to realize it wasn’t gonna work, not for us.”

You blink, trying to take in all the new information. “That sounds really hard.”

“It was,” Namjoon admits. “But we were both on the same page about it. That no matter what, Sol had to come first.” He glances up with a shrug. “It’s all good now. She’s a great co-parent, and her new husband is really good for her. And… well, I have Indigo.”

The tinkling of the bell at the front door snaps you out of a daze, makes you realize you’ve been staring at him, dumbfounded. You do your best to shoot Namjoon a soft smile, and to ignore the pang in your chest as he turns to greet the customer that’s just wandered in, already starting to babble on about the weather.

You find yourself more grateful for Namjoon’s presence with each passing shift, in a way that you try to convince yourself is thoroughly platonic. Between fairly steady work and his very steady chatter, your time spent in the warm, sunny space of Indigo turns out to be a good distraction from your own miserable excuse for a life. The repetitive motions of making drink after drink are oddly comforting, and you have to admit, Namjoon really is good with the customers.

“Peppermint mocha to go.”

You do your best to follow up the sentence with a polite smile as you set a drink down for the customer who has done nothing but scowl at you the whole time you were making it. The silent prayer you’ve sent out to the universe that he’ll take whatever personal problem he has elsewhere and leave you alone has clearly gone unanswered.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he snaps, and you can feel your shoulders creep up towards your ears in anticipation of nothing good. Here we fucking go.

You blink twice, trying to keep your service persona engaged. “I’m sorry, is that not what you ordered?” It is, you know it is, you heard him say it.

“No, that’s mine,” the man quickly responds, reaching out to snatch the cup in a motion that makes you flinch. “But do you hear this fucking song?”

The honest answer is no: at this point the ever-present Christmas music might as well be white noise, so you have to make a conscious effort to tune back in and listen. It’s a few seconds, and then you pick up on the melody. “…Last Christmas?”

Your face pulls into an incredulous grimace before you can think to control it. “Uh, I’m sorry, but I didn’t make the—”

He cuts you off. “First off, I don’t need the fucking attitude. And surely you’re at least capable of checking what songs are on there, right? That’s not too advanced for you to handle?”

You didn’t even hear Namjoon walk up from the back office, but he’s suddenly stepping in front of you, and you’re more than glad to move back and let him handle this dude before you end up in jail. “Woah, woah, alright,” Namjoon interjects, his voice loud enough to carry. “What’s going on?”

The man beats you to it. “I’m trying to file a legitimate complaint and she’s rolling her fucking eyes and getting an attitude with me!”

“It’s the song,” you explain briefly, trying to keep everything about your expression neutral. “He’s mad that we’re… playing Wham.”

Namjoon’s face twists in an expression that you would find funny if you weren’t so fucking livid, one that you’re pretty sure is the mirror image of your own reaction minutes earlier. “The song? Seriously?”

You can see the guy scrambling, clearly starting to get embarrassed at his own dramatics. “Alright, I don’t have time for this. I guess I just need to take my business elsewhere, because this is ridiculous. What ever happened to the customer is always right?”

Namjoon goes silent for a minute, and you try to ignore the way the look on his face makes your pulse quicken, thudding brightly in the hollow of your neck. His voice is deadly serious when he speaks again. “I appreciate that you’re upset, but if you’re going to look my employee in the face, after she just performed a service for you, and disrespect her like that? Over a fucking song? Nah, I’m not gonna tolerate it. Maybe the next time you want someone to make you a toothpaste drink, you should take your ass to Starbucks.”

It takes every ounce of strength you have to keep the reaction off your face until the asshole has stormed out the front door, nasty drink in hand. As the bell finally tinkles to signal his departure, you collapse forward, just barely catching yourself on the counter so you don’t crumple straight down to the floor.

“Oh my god.” Your laugh of disbelief comes out more like a groan, at the ridiculous complaint and your boss’ insanely attractive comeback alike. “I fucking hate this time of year.”

“Hey.” The word is punctuated by Namjoon’s shoulder bumping into yours, and you look back up at him, still laughing a little at your own misery. His eyes search yours, sincere. “Assholes are assholes no matter what season it is. I’m sure that guy finds plenty of things to complain about the other eleven months of the year, too. Don’t let him ruin it for you.”

You can’t help rolling your eyes, if only because you can do it freely now, without a man standing over you and yelling about your ‘bad attitude’. “I guess,” you huff. “And thank you.”

Namjoon shakes his head, like it’s nothing. “Chin up, okay?”

The two of you breeze through closing that night, familiar enough to fall into a steady routine now. You’re wiping everything down behind the counter and humming along to Tupac when Namjoon’s voice drags you back out of your thoughts in a way you’ve already grown accustomed to.

“You know…”

You glance up, only to realize that he’s started to flip chairs on top of tables to clear the floor, and is grabbing them two at a time, one in each hand. The image makes you a little dizzy, and you tell yourself to focus on his words, not his biceps.

“I think we make a pretty good team,” he concludes.

“Yeah,” you breathe, trying to keep your composure at the unexpected compliment. “I was thinking the same thing. And thanks again for, you know. Handling that guy.”

Namjoon shrugs, like it’s nothing. “Hey, you’re doing me a favor, taking this seasonal job. I’m not about to let anyone fuck with you.”

You bite down on a smile as you head towards the back to grab the mop, and then you hear a loud bang on the front door— it’s another sound you’ve gotten used to in your brief time at Indigo. There’s the click of the deadbolt, chased by the tinkling overhead bell and Namjoon’s chiding voice. “Homie, if you break my door I’m gonna make you get a job to pay me back for it.”

“You think I don’t know about child labor laws?” you hear Sol retort, clearly not intimidated, and the attitude in their voice has you biting back a laugh.

Wheeling the mop bucket out of the storage closet, you glance up to see Namjoon jut his chin toward the large front window, indicating Sol to take a seat on the ledge. “Feet off the floor, she’s tryna clean.”

Sol complies, plopping down in the window with their eyes glued to their phone as Namjoon disappears back toward the office to grab his things. You watch as Sol pulls their knees into their chest so their chunky black boots clear the tile, and you can’t help noticing that said boots are adorned with oversized silver bat-shaped buckles, reflecting the amber streetlight gleam that leaks through the window.

“I like your boots,” you say, more to yourself than Sol, half expecting them to be so engrossed in TikTok that they don’t even hear you.

But to your surprise, Sol looks up.

“Thanks,” they say, glancing at their feet. “I just got them. I’m in my post-hardcore era right now.”

The statement is delivered without a trace of irony, and you do your best to hold in another amused giggle as you respond. “Wow, you are… so much cooler than I was when I was your age.”

Sol seems to consider this for a moment, then shrugs. “I mean, you didn’t have the internet back then, right?”

The question hits you like a train, and you have to pause and press a hand over your heart at the impact. “Okay, ouch, I’m not that old.” They grimace apologetically, and you lean up against the mop handle in thought. “But the internet definitely wasn’t like it is now. The only social media that really existed was Myspace, and my parents wouldn’t let me make one. I mostly just used the internet to, like, play RuneScape.”

“Oh shit,” Sol remarks, sounding remarkably like Namjoon in the process. “You played old school?!”

It’s like you can feel your bones crumbling to dust inside your body, and you wince as you resume dragging the mop over the tile. “Hey, back then it was the only kind of RuneScape we had. But yes, you can consider me a… founding father of that game.”

“That’s cool!” they exclaim, sounding so genuine it makes your head spin. When did RuneScape become cool again? “My friends and I play old school all the time. It’s the best, for real.”

You shake your head in disbelief as you continue to mop, and a long pause settles between you, with Sol’s interest clearly returning to their phone.

Fuck, you think to yourself, what else do kids even talk about? Marvel movies? It’s like your mind has gone totally blank, unable to conjure up a single topic of conversation, and you practically huff out an audible sigh of relief when their voice breaks the silence again.

“I think my dad has been happier since you started working here.”

The mop nearly slips out of your hands entirely, and you glance up, eyes wide. “I— really?”

Sol nods, playing absentmindedly with the strings of their black hoodie, then bringing the end of one up to their mouth to gently chew on. “It’s a theory I have. A game theory. I plan to ask additional follow-up questions tonight.”

At this, you can’t help but laugh. “Well, I’m sure your investigation will be very thorough.”

There’s a flash of a dimple in Sol’s cheek, like the mirror image of their dad. “I can tell you what he says, if you want.”

You wonder how telling your own smile is. “I mean… I can’t say I’m not curious.” You’re distantly aware of the sound of the office door closing, chased by Joon whistling to himself, and you lower your voice conspiratorially as you drop the mop back into the bucket. “I look forward to hearing what you find out.”

Monday morning, when you wake up to the omnipresent smize of Nick Jonas, you can’t help smiling back.

You made it through your first week of work, and it wasn’t even that torturous. And best of all, Namjoon reminded you the night before that Indigo is closed on Mondays, which gives you an entire day to spend as you please. A real day off, which was truly unheard of at your last job, where you’d spend your non-scheduled days still anticipating an incoming emergency text asking you to cover a shift last-minute. More often than not, you’d end up working after all.

“But not today,” you announce to Nick.

A grand plan has already started to form in your head, one that involves a party size bag of Hot Cheetos and all eight episodes of The Fabulous, and yet. There’s a lingering urge at the back of your brain that you can’t quite ignore. With all the day-off energy you can muster, you drag yourself out of bed and tug on a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt, then shuffle into the bathroom to at least make yourself halfway decent.

You’re just going for a quick walk around the block to get some fresh air, you tell yourself. That’s all. Certainly no other reason.

It’s only a few minutes after you step out your front door that a fluffy white blur nearly collides with your shins, and when you stoop down to lift Moni into your arms, you once again can’t keep the smile off your face. Huh, who could’ve seen this coming?

But when you glance up, there’s no hot buff man jogging up the sidewalk after his dog. In fact, you realize as you look back at the ball of fluff in your arms, he isn’t wearing a leash or harness at all, just another cute sweater.

“Are you even supposed to be out here?” you ask Moni. His only answer is to drag his tongue up the side of your face.

You shift him a little in your arms so you can fumble for the tag attached to his collar, and thankfully, there’s an address listed. It takes you a second to get your bearings in the neighborhood, having not lived here for close to a decade, but it eventually comes back to you where the listed street is, and you start to walk. Moni is already blinking sleepily in your arms, clearly enjoying his preferred mode of transportation.

A laugh bubbles up in your chest as you approach the house in question— even if you hadn’t had Moni’s tag to guide you, finding his home would’ve been easy enough as soon as you passed this street, because you can hear old school hip-hop bumping through a speaker despite still being several houses down the block. You suppose Namjoon can get away with it during the day, when all the neighborhood kids are still in school.

As you make your way up the driveway, you realize the music is actually coming from behind the house, and when you follow the path that leads around back, you spot the culprit: a simple wooden-slat fence surrounds the yard, and the gate has been left wide open.

Before you can even make it over the threshold, a familiar voice reaches your ears, sounding much closer than the music. “Ah, shit.”

Namjoon comes barreling through the open gate so fast he practically runs you over, and Moni yaps, like he’s annoyed at being jostled as you quickly try to stumble out of his owner’s path.

“Oh. Uh, hi.”

You wonder if you’ll ever be able to take in how shock looks on Namjoon’s features without giggling a little. Today is certainly not that day. It’s just so endearing, the way his eyes widen and his mouth pulls into a perfect o-shape.

“Hi,” you breathe out around your laughter, trying to ignore the heat that flushes into your face when his dimples appear in return. “I think I found something that belongs to you.”

With a wave of his hand and several profuse thank yous, you follow Namjoon back through the gate, and wait until he firmly shuts it behind you before letting Moni down to trot off across the yard. It’s only now that you take Namjoon in properly: he’s in a gray hoodie under a pair of denim overalls, both of which are splattered artfully with paint in a variety of colors.

“I was just in my studio,” he explains, tipping his head toward the small shed in the yard, which you quickly realize is also the source of the music that led you here. “Doin’ some art. Do you, uh… wanna see?”

“Yeah, okay,” you answer with a nod.

“Fair warning, I’m really bad at it,” he calls over his shoulder as he leads you in the open studio door, raising his voice to be heard over the music. He reaches for his phone, propped up in the windowsill, to turn the volume down a few notches.

There’s an easel up against the far wall holding what must be his current project, a half-finished scene that you realize upon closer inspection is thousands of tiny dots of color, painstakingly blotted onto the canvas to form a mountain landscape at a distance. A few more pieces that he’s already completed have been leaned up against another wall to dry, one featuring an abstract array of featherlight brushstrokes, and another where the paint’s been globbed on in thick layers.

Namjoon is talking a mile a minute as you inspect the canvases. “I thought maybe I’d do cyanotypes today, but it’s not sunny enough, and I’ve made that mistake before. I’m really into texture right now, so I’m trying out some different techniques with paint. I want to get better at pointillism, but it’s a lot harder than you’d think it would be. ‘Cause it’s just dots, right? But you have to be able to see the forest for the trees, too.”

“These are amazing,” you finally manage to murmur, and to your surprise, the compliment actually renders him silent. When you turn back over your shoulder to look at him, he’s glancing down, almost like he’s embarrassed.

“Thanks. But I just do it for fun. ‘Cause I love art.”

“I can tell,” you say, and when he looks up, you offer him a smile you hope reads as encouraging. “Did you make the art at work, too?”

He nods, still sheepish, and that answer also surprises you. You recall thinking on your first day that the paintings hung on the walls looked handmade, but it never crossed your mind that they might have been made by Namjoon’s hands. Maybe because you’ve grown so accustomed to seeing him drop and break things, you haven’t ever considered him as also capable of… creation.

And yet, here he is. Proving you wrong.

“Sorry,” Namjoon’s voice makes you refocus on him, and your brow furrows in confusion at the unexpected apology. “This is literally your one day away from me and here I am, taking up your time. Thanks again for bringing Moni back.”

“It’s okay.” You shrug. “Don’t have much going on today, honestly. I never really know what to do with myself when I’m not working. Which I’m aware is very sad.”

“Well, uh,” Namjoon starts, and when he takes a single step closer, you swear you feel something flutter in your stomach— or maybe lower. “Sol’s got a half-day today, since it’s the last day before break, so I’m picking them up in a bit. And we were gonna go on a hike, probably take Moni too. You’re welcome to join us, if you’d like?”

Your eyes widen at the invitation. “Oh. That sounds great. I mean, if you’re sure I wouldn’t be intruding?”

He shakes his head, the corner of his mouth pulling up just so. “Nah. I actually think Sol really likes you. At least, they wouldn’t stop asking questions about you at dinner last night.”

“Is that right?” You do your best to keep your expression neutral.

Namjoon drives far enough north that there’s actually snow on the ground when you climb out of his front seat. You shove your hands into the pockets of your jacket as you follow him across the gravel parking lot towards the trailhead, a few paces behind Sol and Moni.

Sol shoots an expression of pure mischief at you over their shoulder, and then immediately starts to sprint up the marked path through the woods, Moni easily keeping up.

“Bye, nerds!” you hear them call before they disappear between the trees.

“Stay on the trail!” Namjoon shouts back, sounding as dad-like as you’ve ever heard him, and you can’t help but laugh. The two of you quicken your steps slightly to not fall too far behind, tracking the set of boot and paw-prints they’ve left to mark their trail.

For a moment, it’s silent between you, save the crunching of snow underfoot. It’s nice, being out in nature like this, time spent with Namjoon where you aren’t suffering through Christmas music and ungrateful customers. Where you can just… breathe. It makes you feel a little less sorry for yourself, a little less fixated on your own miserable life.

You glance over at him as that strange seasonal melancholy starts to settle into your bones again. “Are the holidays… better? With a kid?”

Namjoon makes a face, like he’s surprised by the question. “I mean, they’re definitely different. Then again, it’s been a long time since I did the holidays without a kid— not since I was a kid myself. What do you mean by better?”

Self-consciousness washes over you, your gaze drifting down to the path beneath your feet. “I don’t know, there’s just… I can’t shake this weird feeling now that I’m back home. This time of year used to be so exciting for me when I was Sol’s age. Everything felt special. Magical. But now I’m back here, and nothing’s really changed, except me. But I just keep feeling like the magic is gone. It’s… sad.”

He nods, taking a moment before he responds, and he’s chuckling softly to himself when he finally does. “You know, it’s kinda funny. When Sol was younger I actually felt a lot of stress this time of year. I couldn’t really enjoy it, because I was too busy trying to make sure that they had the best holiday I could possibly give them. That they didn’t feel like they were getting any less, since, you know. Their mom and I aren’t together. It’s funny that you bring up the magic, because I put a lot of pressure on myself to make that magic happen. But now that they’re a little older, I don’t know, it’s different.”

“Different how?” you prompt.

A dimple deepens as he hesitates. “It’s gonna sound corny. But really, I realized that the holidays aren’t about the gifts, or the decorations, or every little thing going perfect. You can make yourself sick over that shit, and I did, but kids don’t really care about it.” He pauses, and for a second you think that might be it, but then he keeps going, eyes fixed on the towering pine trees ahead of you.

“The year I opened Indigo, I had sank so much fucking money into it that I was broke. Broke broke. I couldn’t afford a single gift, a tree, not even a turkey. Sol and I sat on the floor of my shitty apartment and ate Chapagetti and watched Friends. And I felt like the biggest fucking failure imaginable. And then you know what happened?”

“What?”

Namjoon shrugs, as if to shake off the emotion. “I don’t know. Maybe that’s not helpful to you, but. I just see it differently now. It’s not about the what, or the how. It’s about the who. Spending this time of year with the people you care about, and making sure they know you do. That’s the real magic.”

You realize the trail has carried you up the sloping hillside, and is now flattening out at the edge of a clearing, where you can see Moni chasing Sol through the snow, can hear their high-pitched laughter ringing out in the wide-open air.

When you turn back to Namjoon, he’s already looking at you.

“I’m sorry you don’t feel the magic right now. I didn’t either, for a long time. But it does come back, I believe that. It’ll come back for you, too.”

You blink up at him, overwhelmed by his willingness to be so honest, and by the wisdom of his words. “I— thank you,” you finally manage to say.

Namjoon doesn’t answer, just glances up to where Sol and Moni are still playing, and your gaze follows his out over the snow-covered field. Sol is dusting off a sizable stick, and they call out for Moni to fetch before launching it into a dramatic arc, high up in the air.

Moni watches it go, entirely disinterested, then settles onto his haunches in the snow with a yawn.

Your jaw drops open, and Namjoon’s eyes are wide as you’ve ever seen them when you look up at him.

“Uncle Hobi says you need to be bolder with women,” Sol chides, matter-of-fact.

“Uncle Hobi says a lot of shit,” Namjoon mutters under his breath.

“He painted my nails,” Sol raises their voice, clearly talking more to you than to their dad, and holds up a hand for you to see, waggling their fingers proudly.

“They look great,” you call out in response.

Namjoon turns back to you as you step in closer, then juts his chin to a bench at the other side of the clearing. “Sit with me for a sec?”

With a nod, you follow him over, and he wipes the metal surface free of snow with his sleeve before gesturing for you to have a seat. For a moment, the two of you sit silently and watch Sol, who is already busying themself with building a snowperson while Moni slow-blinks encouragingly from a distance.

Namjoon’s words chase a heavy sigh. “I’m gonna be real with you, despite the fact that my child just stole my thunder. I like you a lot.”

Your heart swells in your chest, threatening to burst. “I-I like you too,” you stammer back immediately. “Have definitely been harboring my own crush… basically since I started working at Indigo.”

When you turn to look at him, it surprises you a little that he isn’t smiling. You can see a muscle working in his jaw, like he’s nervous.

“That’s the thing,” he finally relents. “Work. I don’t— I hadn’t really planned to tell you how I was feeling, or act on it. Because I’m your boss, and that means, you know. There’s a power dynamic there. And it would be… unethical of me to blur the lines like that, by getting involved with my employee. I wanted you to come out with us today because it was a chance for you and I to be equals, outside of work, but it’s not like that dynamic just goes away, you know? And I feel a little guilty about it now. Because I really like being around you so much, but I just. We can’t. It wouldn’t be right. Not while you’re working for me.”

You stare down at the snow under your boots as you take in his words, and you can’t help it. Try as you might to sit there and take his worries seriously, laughter flutters out of you before you can hold it in.

“What?” Namjoon asks, and you shake your head, trying to compose yourself.

“I really, really appreciate that you gave it so much thought,” you say, willing your voice to stay even. “I mean it.”

“It’s weighed really heavy on me, if I’m honest,” he says solemnly, and you glance over to see him staring into the middle distance, like he’s deep in contemplation.

Before you can stop yourself, you’re reaching out to where his hand rests on the bench between you and covering it with your own.

“Namjoon?” you ask softly, and it seems to snap him out of his trance enough to look back at you.

“Please don’t take this the wrong way,” you preface. “But if I have to choose between you and my stupid seasonal coffee shop job?” The smile starts to flicker over your face again. “Then I quit. I quit right now.”

“Oh thank god,” Namjoon breathes, and you can only make a soft noise of surprise when all at once, he takes your face in his hands and kisses you. You need a split second for the shock to wear off, and then you’re moving your mouth against his, one hand fisting tight in the fabric of his jacket. His lips are full and warm, and it feels like far too soon that he’s pulling back again, his cheeks flushed with color.

“Will you, uh—” he pauses, like he’s remembering how to form a sentence. “Will you still work tomorrow though? Jimin’s back after Christmas, but I really don’t think I can survive a shift on my own.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, still a little breathless from his kiss. “Yeah, I think you’d burn the place down.”

Unable to deny the claim, he laughs brightly as you untangle from each other, then gets to his feet before offering a hand to help you up. “We should head out, it’s gonna get dark soon.”

It’s true: across the wide clearing you can already see the sun threatening to sink back down between the trees, casting a golden-pink light that gleams off the snow and paints the world in warmth.

Sol leads the way back through the woods to the car, tugging Moni along by their leash, while you and Namjoon bring up the rear. You glance over at him a few times to catch him staring, and you scrape your teeth across your bottom lip, unable to keep the smile off your face, unable to stop yourself from mentally replaying the moment when he kissed you, over and over.

Just as you step under the shadow of a large tree, snow-covered branches stretching up toward the clear sky above you, Namjoon stops in the path. It’s so abrupt that you continue a few more paces before you even realize, and then you stop, too, glancing back towards him.

“Hey Sol,” Namjoon calls. “Think you and Moni can make it all the way back to the car in ten seconds?”

“I know what you’re doing,” comes Sol’s cheeky reply, but when Namjoon starts counting backwards from ten, you can hear the crunch of their boots taking off down the path.

“Eight, seven, six…” You watch as Namjoon cranes his neck until he deems Sol far enough out of sight, taking a step toward you as his counting trails off, and you find yourself pulled into him like a magnet. “Come here,” he murmurs, and then his hands are slipping up your waist and guiding you backwards until your back hits the trunk of the tree.

In true Namjoon fashion, he uses way more strength than is necessary for the task, and though your winter jacket cushions you from the impact, you’re smacked against the bark so hard that it knocks a dusting of snow off the branches above you, covering you both in flakes that stick to your hair and eyelashes. The sudden rush of cold makes you gasp into Namjoon’s mouth, but then he’s rolling his tongue over yours and you can’t think about anything else. A heavy pulse has started to thud between your legs at the heat of his breath in your mouth, the way his hips have you pinned to the tree, his body big enough to cover yours entirely.

“Joon,” you find the air to breathe as his lips trail hungrily down the slope of your neck. You rake a hand through his hair, white-blonde strands studded with snow, to try and pull his attention back, despite very much not wanting him to stop. “Joon, we should go. Before someone steals your kid.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs against your skin, and then his mouth is on yours again for one more kiss, like he can’t get enough. “Okay,” he finally grunts as he pulls away, sounding as begrudgingly responsible as you feel. Your head is still spinning; you want nothing more than to stay here and let him kiss you dizzy.

“Let’s go.”

He takes a step back so you can right yourself, reaching out to dust some snow off your jacket, and then the two of you resume walking up the path, sharing a breathless laugh like confidantes. You assume it’s just his standard clumsiness when Namjoon’s hand knocks into yours, but then his fingers are twining through yours purposefully, until you’re pressed palm to palm.

The rush of heat that blooms in your chest at his touch keeps you warm the rest of the way to the car.

Your last shift at Indigo somehow manages to feel exactly like every shift that’s come before it and completely new at the same time.

The work is the same, the steady stream of customers unchanged, the Christmas music still an aggravating soundtrack. But you no longer feel like you have to ignore the butterflies that flutter in your stomach when Namjoon asks you a question, or meets your gaze across the shop.

The only urges you have to suppress are indecent ones, made worse by Namjoon seemingly taking advantage of every opportunity to touch you: hip-checking you when you’re both standing at the front counter, pressing a hand to the small of your back whenever he has to squeeze behind you, leaning in a little closer than necessary to be heard over the noise of the milk steamer. It’s enough to make your breath hitch each time, and you can’t help but wonder if he feels the same relief at not having to hold back anymore.

Towards the end of the night, it surprises you when the typically consistent flow of customers starts to slow down, until it seems to have ceased entirely. You still have two hours to go, but you find yourself staring at the walls, every table empty, having done all the side work you can think of to distract yourself from boredom.

The sound of the front door’s lock clicking shut makes you glance up, only to see Namjoon flipping the open sign over.

“What are you doing?” you ask, blinking dumbfounded, and he looks over his shoulder at you with a shrug.

“It’s Christmas Eve Eve, and I’m the owner, so. We’re closing early. Effective immediately.” The decree makes you laugh a little, and his dimples wink back. “Let’s finish cleaning, I wanna show you something.”

In record time, you find yourself standing outside the front door of Indigo as Namjoon locks up, only tonight your hands are kept warm by the hot chocolates he’d made for the two of you as you closed. He takes his cup back once his hands are free, and you try a tentative sip from yours, now cool enough to drink without burning your mouth. Given what you witnessed of his barista abilities on your first day, you brace yourself for the worst, but your eyes widen in pleasant surprise when the liquid hits your tongue.

“Being a dad means getting really good at a few specific things,” he says by way of explanation as he unlocks his car doors, and you smile as you slip into the passenger seat.

It occurs to you as Namjoon starts to drive that you don’t actually know where he’s taking you, but when you open your mouth to ask at the next red light, he leans over you to fumble open the glovebox and you lose your train of thought. He fishes inside for a few seconds before retrieving a CD case, then makes quick work of prying it open and sliding the disc into the slot on the dash. You attempt to hide your giggle behind the rim of your cup.

“No wonder you like ‘90s music so much. You’re still living there,” you say, nodding to his antiquated stereo, and he smirks as he turns up the volume.

“This is A Tribe Called Quest,” he remarks, quirking an eyebrow when he looks back at you. “You better show some respect.”

“Yes, sir,” you tease in response, and you don’t miss the color that flushes his cheeks.

The light turns green and he accelerates through the intersection, one hand on the steering wheel, the other reaching across the center console to grip playfully at your leg, a few inches above your knee. You can see his tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek, like he’s considering saying something, but when he finally opens his mouth, it’s just to rap along to the music.

It’s only a few songs later that he’s turning off the main road and following a barely-lit gravel path up to a large grassy parking lot, where he pulls into a space and kills the engine. You squint through the windshield, tucking your now-empty drink into the cupholder, but you can’t make out much except dusk and some vague lights over a hill in the distance.

“Was this crush thing just a ploy to murder me?” you quip, and Namjoon looks a little nervous when you glance over, like he took the question to heart. “I’m kidding,” you clarify quickly.

His voice comes out surprisingly soft. “This is one of my favorite things to do during the holidays. Thought it might help with, you know. The magic.”

Something cracks open inside you as you look back at him. “That’s… really sweet.”

“Ah,” he says, as if to dismiss the compliment. “You haven’t seen it yet. Maybe you’ll hate it. Come on.”

The two of you climb out of his car to start your trek to whatever he has in store, heading in the direction of the lights, and Namjoon’s hand slips into yours, like it’s already second nature. Easy and sweet. You grip tight to him, the night air colder now than it was when you left work, but then you finally crest over the hill, and the temperature is suddenly the furthest thing from your mind.

It takes you a moment to even understand what you’re looking at. The place is clearly some kind of arboretum, as the path ahead of you snakes through a perfectly manicured garden of various plants, but the only thing you can focus on are the lights. Every tree, bush, shrub, and other kind of greenery that lines the walkway has been intricately strung up with lights, each one boasting a different hue. The end result is nothing short of dazzling— a veritable rainbow of light and life and color, glittering diamond-bright against the deep-set night around you.

“Namjoon,” you breathe. “This is beautiful.”

There’s a dimple flickering at the corner of his mouth when you look up at him. “Thought you might like it.”

“I can’t believe I never knew this was here,” you remark, your eyes wide and blinking as you try to take it all in.

“Hey,” he answers with a shrug. “Maybe your hometown still has a few good surprises left in it.” You exhale a laugh as you lean into his side and he squeezes your joined hands; you can’t help feeling like you’ve already found the greatest surprise of them all.

After an hour spent wandering through the displays, each one more breathtaking than the last, Namjoon diverts you toward a small food stand. He comes away from the counter with a paper carton filled to the brim with long ropes of twisted, fried dough, warm enough to release steam into the air when you tear one apart to share, and dusted with cinnamon sugar that sticks to your fingertips.

The two of you take a few steps back down the path until you’re under an archway of glowing golden lights, then eventually come to a standstill, too hungry to do anything except devour your food.

Namjoon speaks first, mid-chew. “Can I ask you a question?”

“What’s up?” you answer as you reach for another piece.

He swallows, swiping the back of his hand over his mouth before he continues. “At your interview, you said your life fell apart. What happened?”

“Oh.” You smirk as you rip the braided dough in two, then in two again, before popping it into your mouth. “It seems a little silly now, but. I got fired from that last job, like I told you. And the same day, my roommate pretty much kicked me out of the apartment, because he wanted his boyfriend to move in. He was also my best friend, so. It stung a little. A lot. Moving back in with your parents at this age is humbling, to say the least. Feels a lot like starting over.”

Namjoon hums, like he understands. “I’m sorry about your friend.”

“Eh,” you respond noncommittally. “I should probably be happy for him. The timing just… wasn’t amazing.”

“You know,” he murmurs, thoughtful. “I thought my life was over when my ex and I got pregnant. Not even eighteen and about to be a dad. I really felt like… I don’t know, like that was it for me.” You nod slowly, unable to even fathom what that must’ve been like.

His words wash over you, and you’re so in awe that you can’t help but laugh.

“Ah, sorry.” He grimaces, suddenly self-conscious. “I know that was corny.”

“No, no,” you interject, trying to keep your composure. “I just think you are like, literally the wisest person I’ve ever met.”

The lights glimmering overhead aren’t enough to hide the way Namjoon blushes at the compliment, and then he pauses, as if recalling something. “Didn’t I nearly run the blender with the lid off on your first day?”

You double-over at the memory, and he’s laughing now, too. “Okay, okay. Fair point.”

The thought keeps circling around in your brain as you dust cinnamon sugar from each other’s jackets and continue your way around the rest of the gardens, occasionally pausing to trade sticky-sweet kisses in the twinkling glow: you don’t want the night to end. You keep glancing over at Namjoon, wondering if he’s feeling the same way as he drives you back into town, the heat in his car on full blast, the CD player still underscoring your conversation.

“So, what do your Christmas plans look like?” he asks, eyes flitting briefly from the road to meet your gaze.

You fiddle with a button on your coat, wishing you had a less depressing answer. “I was just gonna spend it by myself. My parents already had a vacation in Hawaii planned, so I’m gonna do what I always do: hole up with booze and snacks and wait for it all to be over.”

He chuckles, tapping his fingertips absentmindedly against the steering wheel. “Well, I have about a hundred presents to wrap tomorrow night while Sol’s at their mom’s. Why don’t you come over and help? I can even provide the booze.” There’s a pause, and his voice comes back softer before you can respond. “You shouldn’t be alone.”

The corner of your mouth tugs up at his sincerity, the way he gently cares for you, has since day one. “Yeah, okay. I mean, you had me at free alcohol.”

Just like that, Namjoon is already turning back into the Indigo parking lot, where your car sits waiting for you. The two of you shrug off your seatbelts once he’s pulled into a space and parked, and he reaches to turn down the music before shifting in his seat to get a better look at you.

“So,” he starts, clearing his throat a little. “You are officially no longer my employee.”

“And you are no longer my boss,” you answer back, and a thrill buzzes in your chest at the statement.

“Which means,” he continues, doing his best to lean over the center console, “I can do this.” He barely finishes getting the words out before his mouth is on yours, your eyes fluttering closed, his kisses far less chaste than the ones you shared earlier. They’re open-mouthed and urgent this time, with Namjoon slipping his tongue into the heat of your mouth like he’s been waiting all night for it.

“Uh-huh,” you murmur between kisses, and then he dips his head lower, until his lips find the join of your neck and shoulder.

“And this,” he purrs before kissing you just as hungrily there, tongue-first. You can’t hold back the soft noise his mouth pulls out of you.

“Fuck,” you breathe as he sucks gently over the same spot, with just enough pressure to make you writhe in your seat. A shiver rolls up your spine when he hums against your skin, clearly pleased at your reaction.

“And, uh…” You slowly blink your eyes open when you feel the warmth of his breath dissipate, and he’s looking at you with his brow furrowed, as if attempting some difficult mental math. “Actually—” He reaches down for the lever to adjust his seat, and it drops all the way back with a graceless thud that makes a laugh flutter out of you. “Maybe you could take your jacket off and come over here?”

You don’t need him to ask you twice, and you’re moving quickly as you peel out of the thick material and scramble across the console to straddle him. You both groan a little when you duck down to press your mouth to his again, all of this suddenly feeling much more real now that you’re basically horizontal. His hands alight on your hips, tentative, like he isn’t quite sure what to do with them, and you smile against his lips.

“Touch me, Joon,” you instruct, and he does as he’s told.

His hands are warm as he slips them beneath the hem of your shirt, trailing over your skin until he reaches the band of your bra. When you hum encouragingly into his mouth, he keeps going, pushing the fabric up your chest so your tits spill free from their confinement. He cups one in each hand, and though you might’ve expected him to be clumsy or rough, given everything you’ve seen of him thus far, you’re surprised to instead find that he’s gentle, thumbs circling your nipples with just the right amount of pressure to tighten them into stiff peaks.

Unable to bite back your whimper at the heat that blossoms through you at his touch, at how much more of him you need, you pull away just enough to break your kiss, glancing up through the back window of his car to confirm the parking lot is still empty.

Namjoon groans low in his throat when you reach down to tug up the hem of your shirt, shifting a little on top of him to give him better access. He doesn’t hesitate, thumb still working at one nipple while he takes the other into his mouth, and your sigh of relief comes edged with a soft moan when he swirls his tongue over the bud of your breast.

“Shit,” you gasp. “Feels so fucking good.”

He pulls off with a wet pop to switch sides, and the slick heat of his mouth sends bolt after bolt of arousal through you until there’s a dull ache of need thudding between your legs. As you roll your hips in desperate search of friction, you can feel him beneath you, straining hard against the fabric of his jeans.

Namjoon pulls his mouth off your breast, letting out a hoarse laugh when you shift to drop your forehead against his collarbone with a groan, horny enough to practically be delirious. “I hate that I’m even saying this,” he rasps, “but I really can’t have sex in a car. I’m too—”

“Big?” you offer, and there’s a smile on his lips as he presses a kiss to your temple.

“I was going to say old.”

You can’t help giggling as you lean up to find his mouth with yours again. Namjoon kisses you a little while longer, lazily, his hands still kneading gently at your tits, until he finally tips his head back, heaving a sigh up to the roof of his car. “Okay, okay. You should go.” His tone is reluctant, like it’s the last thing he wants. “It’s late. And my jeans fucking hurt.”

There’s a self-satisfied smirk toying at your mouth as you sit up, tugging your bra and shirt back into place and not missing the bulge in Namjoon’s pants where your hips meet his. “I will take the blame for that one.”

He folds his hands behind his head, biceps and dimples on full display. “Damn straight.”

You lean down for one more kiss, letting it linger before you make your way back over the center console to retrieve your jacket. “Have a good night, Joon,” you murmur as you reach for the door handle, and when you glance back, his eyes are fixed on you, still heavy-lidded with lust.

“Get home safe. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I have booze, as promised.” Namjoon’s voice echoes in from the kitchen as you kick off your boots and hang your coat up at his front door come Christmas Eve. The aroma hits your nose as your socked feet pad down the hall to follow him: the spice of cinnamon and clove, paired with a hint of citrus. It smells like the holidays, like home.

“Mulled wine?” you wager a guess, and he nods, turning away from the stove to retrieve two mugs from a cabinet.

“I halved the recipe, since it’s just us,” he explains, mouth pulling down at the corners as he starts to ladle out servings from the pot full of deep red liquid. “Still made a lot, though.”

Your eyes drift across the kitchen until they land on the two empty bottles of red sitting next to the sink, and that makes you pause for a moment to consider. “So the original recipe called for four bottles?”

Namjoon’s brow is furrowed when he glances up, and then he follows your gaze, and a look of delayed understanding washes over him. “Oh, fuck.”

Your elbows dig into the kitchen island as you press your hands to your mouth, as if to physically hold in your laughter. “Did you… halve everything in the recipe except the wine?”

His eyes drop closed as he nods, his answer a resigned sigh. “Yeah. Yes, I did.”

You can’t help yourself: all at once, you’re circling around to join Namjoon behind the stove, so you can take his face in your hands and pull his mouth down to yours. He makes a soft noise of surprise, but then his lips fall into rhythm, kissing you hard enough to knock the air out of your lungs. Even through the fabric of your shirt, his large hands are warm when they slide over the small of your back, and then they keep going, until you finally break the kiss with another laugh when he reaches his final target and outright grabs your ass.

“Not the reaction I anticipated,” Namjoon admits, paired with a teasing squeeze. “But I’ll take it.”

You look up at him through your lashes, pressing your palms flat to the firm plane of his chest. “A very wise friend of mine once told me that the holidays aren’t about every little thing going perfect. I thought maybe you needed a reminder.”

His dimples deepen as his eyes search yours, and his voice is lower in his throat when he responds. “I think that fool was just sayin’ words because a pretty girl asked him a question.”

Heat flushes your face as you smile back. “Well, they were very good words.” You drop your gaze to the pot on the stove. “Come on, I bet we can salvage this.”

Determined to save Christmas, you throw in another handful of spices, chased with a few glugs from a bottle of orange juice Namjoon heroically digs out of the back of the fridge. After a few more minutes of simmering, you take a tentative sip of the mixture to find it perfectly adequate.

“I guess we just have to drink twice as much now,” Namjoon quips, filling up two fresh mugs with the remedied wine. You raise an eyebrow back at him, as if to accept the challenge, while you tap your drinks together in a cheers.

By the time you realize that a double-batch of mulled wine and gift-wrapping don’t exactly go together, it’s already too late. The booze makes Namjoon’s big hands go even clumsier, the few presents he attempts an absolute disaster, and you can’t stop laughing long enough to be of any help. At one point he reaches up to cup your jaw for a kiss, but completely misjudges the distance, deftly knocking into his half-drunk mug and spilling the contents all over a tube of wrapping paper and the crotch of your jeans.

You dissolve into giggles until you can scarcely breathe, scooting your chair a few inches back from the table as he jumps up to grab something to soak up the mess. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” you manage to gasp when he returns, immediately focused on cleaning you up first. You wave him away as you get to your feet. “Seriously, it’s not that bad, it’s mostly the table.”

“Jesus,” Namjoon groans as he drops the kitchen towels in his hands onto the wooden surface, doing his best to soak up the puddle, though there’s no saving the ruined gift-wrap.

“It’s not a big deal,” you murmur as he turns back, once again examining the extent of the damage done to your clothes. A shiver rolls through you as his thumb brushes over the waistband of your jeans, and he grimaces a little.

“This is probably gonna stain.”

“I mean…” Your pulse starts to quicken as his fingertips linger where they are, and Namjoon’s gaze flits up to meet yours when you speak, clearly hearing a shift in your tone of voice. “I could just… take them off.”

A smile teases at the corner of your mouth when his eyes widen. “Yeah,” he breathes, then seems to self-correct. “I mean, uh. If-if that’s something you would feel comfortable doing.”

You’re already reaching to undo the button, and then Namjoon takes over to tug open the zipper and push the fabric down your legs, and your nipples tighten beneath your bra at the reminder of how gentle his large hands can be. His lips find yours again and you don’t hesitate to lick into his mouth, jostling slightly as you try to make out with him and kick your pants the rest of the way off at the same time. It’s graceless, but you manage to make it work, and then he pulls away from you to glance back down.

“It looks like a little got on your shirt, too.”

He’s right, you realize: there are faint purple marks splattered just above the hem of your long-sleeve, and you smirk as you look up at him.

“If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you did this on purpose,” you tease, and then in one swift move you pull your shirt over your head, letting it drop to the kitchen floor next to your discarded jeans.

Namjoon’s hands are instantly on your bare skin, trailing heat as they trace the curve from your hip to your waist, and your breath hitches as he ducks down to brush his lips over your collarbone. The low tone of his voice reverberates through you when he speaks against your skin. “I like to think I could’ve gotten you naked tonight even without being an accident-prone idiot.”

You run a hand along the line of his jaw, tipping his head up to seek a kiss, before leaning back to murmur, “I guess we’ll never know.”

He kisses you again, and the two of you stumble across the threshold into the living room, pausing along the way to peel off his sweater and then his jeans, laughing into each other’s mouths, just drunk enough to lack any semblance of coordination you might have otherwise had.

When you drop down to lay back on his sofa, you’re both stripped to your underwear, and you can feel the thick bulge of him, pressing firm-heavy heat into your thigh as he settles his hips between your spread legs.

Namjoon’s eyes roam over your body beneath him, and then he’s tugging the lace of your panties to the side to slip a finger into your drenched center, beckoning it up to rub you just right. Your mouth drops open as he traces slow circles against your front wall, and when he adds a second digit, you can’t help but whimper softly at the stretch. It thrums through you like your lingering red wine buzz, hot and thick and good enough to get lost in, your head dropping back on the couch cushions as your hips rock up into his touch.

“Goddamn,” Namjoon groans, and your eyes flutter open again to take him in, his gaze heavy-lidded as he watches his fingers disappear up into you, coaxing slick sounds out with each pump of his hand. “I had a whole plan,” he rasps. “To take my time. But, fuck, I really want to fuck you.”

“It’s okay, Joon,” you breathe, not sure how much longer you could stand the torturous feeling of his clothed cock grinding into your thigh, so close to where you want him. An ache throbs in your cunt, needy, plugged up with two fingers but still begging for more. “Just fuck me.”

Realization flashes over his face, and then he suddenly heaves a sigh, looking defeated. You have to bite back a noise at the loss as he withdraws his fingers. “I— there’s an obvious joke here, but. I don’t have any condoms. Or if I do, they’re definitely expired.”

It takes you a second to process the revelation, and then you reach up to pull him down to you, smiling when he hums surprise into your mouth at the unexpected response. Your lips linger on his, and then you tip your head to press a kiss to the slope of his neck, not quite able to maintain eye contact as you murmur, “I mean. I’m on the pill, and I’m clean. So.”

“Yeah?” he replies, and your nose bumps against his shoulder as you nod. “Me too. Well, I-I’m clean, I mean. I’m not on the pill.”

You can’t help the giggle that slips out as you look up at him. “Right, no, I get it.”

“Sorry,” Namjoon huffs a laugh in return, his face flushing a little. “I talk a lot, when I’m nervous.”

“I just thought it was an all-the-time thing,” you admit, and the color in his cheeks deepens.

“I’m just always nervous around you.”

Your mouth seeks his out for a kiss sweeter than the last, slower for his shy honesty and the hummingbird thrum of your heartbeat behind your ribs. The heat of his breath ghosts over your lips when you tip back to answer, “You don’t have to be.”

“So, you’re okay?” he asks, almost reverent with his question. “If we—if I don’t—”

“Please,” you insist, and it’s all the encouragement he needs.

With remarkably little fumbling, he drags the lace of your panties down your legs, letting you kick them the rest of the way off while he moves up to unclasp your bra. You slip the straps off your shoulders and drop it over the edge of the couch, then watch as he shifts to strip out of his boxers, freeing his cock with enough force that it smacks against his abdomen with a hefty thud.

You swallow hard as you take him in: long and thick, flushed dark. Big, and fuck, you want all of him; you can feel how drenched you already are between your legs at the thought of all that cock filling you up.

When you tear your gaze away to meet his, Namjoon is staring at you just as hungrily, and he brings a hand to pump himself a few times, to coat his shaft in the wetness that’s started to drool from the head of his dick.

“Come here,” he grunts, his voice rough-edged, and you waste no time straddling yourself over his hips.

Given his considerable size, you figured it might take you a second to adjust, but you want him so bad, the feeling of his cock stretching you open is all white-hot pleasure. Your fingertips dig into his shoulders as you slowly lower yourself down on him, inch by overwhelming inch, until your ass is flush with thighs.

Namjoon’s head drops back against the couch as you slowly grind your hips into him, his hands gripping at your waist to guide the movement. You can’t help the soft sound that flutters out of you: he just looks so good like this, white-blonde hair swept off his forehead, beads of sweat trailing down his temples and glistening at his collarbones, his parted lips full and kiss-bitten.

“Baby,” he groans as you start to move a little more intentionally. “Fuck, I’m not gonna last long. Tell me what to do.”

“Touch me,” you breathe, and you close a hand over one of his, guiding him down to your clit.

Just like the night before in his car, his touch is so gentle when he begins to trace circles into the sensitive nub with his thumb. You can feel the slow-hum build of an orgasm in your core, drawn up by the steady rub of his hand, and you lean back to allow him better access, bracing yourself on his thighs as you rock along his length.

A moan rips through you as the new angle drags the head of his dick just right against your front wall, and it’s good enough to make your eyes roll back. Chasing the feeling, you shove your hips down harder, driving his cock into that spot over and over until your thighs have started to tremble.

“That’s it,” Namjoon grunts encouragingly, his voice husky. “Use me, baby. Look so good when you bounce on my cock like that.”

The words set every last one of your nerve endings alight, and you dig your nails into his skin as your spine arches from the pleasure. His thumb is still working steadily at your clit, and the heavy stretch of his cock has you so wet, you can feel arousal starting to leak down your thighs. Your pussy clings to him like a vice, a throbbing-tight heat, taking him to the hilt every time.

“Oh my god, Joon,” you groan, “I’m gonna come.”

His touch doesn’t let up, and you can feel yourself teetering right on the precipice of it, only able to manage little gasps as you drop yourself down onto his cock again and again and again, with enough force that there’s an audible sound of your skin slapping against his.

Your legs are outright shaking from the effort now, from how close you are, and then Namjoon ducks his head, using his free hand to guide your tit into his mouth. The swirl of his tongue laved across the tight bud of your nipple is just what you need to push you over the edge.

With a moan that’s more like a sob, you drop forward against Namjoon’s chest, sinking all the way down to bury him in your pulsing cunt as you come. He continues to rub you through the waves of your orgasm, breathing ragged in your ear while your pussy gushes around him, until you grab his wrist with a soft whimper of overstimulation, and he relents.

Too gone to get any words out, all you can do is take his face in your hands and kiss him. He rolls his tongue over yours, decadent, as his palms slip down to cup your ass. You groan a little into his mouth when he begins to shift you, your cunt still fluttering-sensitive at every little motion, but he manages to maneuver you onto your back while still keeping himself sheathed in you.

His hands move to your thighs, encouraging your legs to hook over his hips, and his mouth trails kisses down the valley between your breasts before he breathes against your skin, “Can I keep going?”

“Please,” you murmur, and it’s chased with a moan when he starts to rock his hips into you. You feel so full, so swollen from your climax that it’s like your walls were molded to take him, the crown of his cock stroking deep-deep over the place that lights you up inside, shooting sparks of pleasure all the way down to your toes.

Namjoon’s breath stutters on a laugh. “Shit, I’m already close.”

You tilt up to brush your lips against his, humming encouragingly into his mouth, and then he pulls back again, one dimple teasing at the corner of his smile. “God, I— wanna hear you say it.”

Somehow, you know exactly what he means. “Come in me, Joon,” you beg, fucked so good that you’re shameless for it, and you gasp when he bottoms out in you with his next thrust. “Fill me up. Fuck me full of your cum, baby, please.”

It’s like the words send him into overdrive, and he practically growls as he starts to fuck his cock into you forcefully, hard enough to make your tits bounce. Each snap of his hips punches a heady groan from your lungs, and you reach up to drag your nails across the skin of his back as he chases his own end.

“Gonna fucking— give it to you,” he hisses, rolling his hips one, two, three more times, and then you feel his cock twitching, shoved in as deep as you can take him. He heaves a final strangled groan as he comes, rope after rope of his release pumping into you to paint your walls, until you can feel it beginning to spill back down your thighs.

You kiss through the comedown, inhaling shaky breaths into each other’s mouths, your bodies still fitted together like puzzle pieces, sweat starting to cool in the places where skin is pressed to skin. Namjoon finally moves first, giving a grunt of effort as he rolls off the couch, and you throw an arm over your face while the world slowly settles into focus around you.

When he returns, it’s with a towel in hand, and you can’t help smiling as he cleans you up, trailing soft kisses along your collarbone in tandem.

His voice is soft, too, when he finally speaks. “Will you stay here tonight?”

You prop yourself up on your forearms to look at him, and a little glimmer of something lights up in your chest that you can’t ignore. The first spark of an ember, just enough to reignite a flame you’d long since believed to be entirely extinguished. But now he’s shown you: it doesn’t have to be. You don’t have to be alone.

“Of course. We still have presents to wrap,” you say simply, and he huffs a laugh as he leans in to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Joon?” you murmur into the crook of his neck, unable to keep your voice entirely steady.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” you breathe. “For the magic.”

#officially part of the real magic!joon fanclub now #namjoon fic recs #ivi reads

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