#to be able to expect 3+ shifts a week of REASONABLE hours... EVERY WEEK?

[luxflora]

If the next 10 or so days go okay I'm gonna be so fucking high on the 20th. Not in a substance sense but in a "has two jobs now and just got the first paycheck for it" sense

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not watching my sick goddaughter and then not wanting to watch her sick brother

*fake names used obviously

Two days ago I got a message from my goddaughter's mom, Nancy, saying that my goddaughter, Natasha, had thrown up at school. The reason Nancy let me know was because her husband would be picking up Natasha's little brother, Dennis, who I watch from 7:30 AM to 3:30 PM most days.

Anyway, I have an extreme, irrational fear of throwing up. So after Nancy let me know Natasha was sick, I was afraid Nancy would then ask if Natasha could come over to my house the next day along with Dennis. Nancy works the night shift so she sleeps during the day and her husband works from 8 AM to 4 PM. I've watched both kids since they were infants. I love them as if they were my own, but when they're sick with a stomach bug, or just throwing up for whatever reason, I would prefer they stayed home away from me so that I can avoid getting what they have lol.

I've always felt bad about this, because they're little and I feel like at my grown age I should be okay with being around them if they've thrown up. Yet, I find myself internally freaking out about getting sick AND I get so paranoid I swear I make myself sick sometimes. Nancy knows this about me.

Sure enough, Nancy calls me and nonchalantly asks if Natasha can come over the next day with Dennis because the school told her Natasha couldn't return for 24 hours. Usually I would give in and say yes because I feel bad saying no, but recently my brother's have reminded me that Nancy only pays me 200 dollars every two weeks to watch Dennis four days a week, eight hours a day. Nancy has acknowledged that she'd have to pay way more at a daycare, so she appreciates what I, and my family do for them.

I love the kids, I really do, but despite having known their parents for so long it feels as though Nancy and her husband only really see me and my family as the help and almost expect us to always be available. Or maybe I'm just projecting my insecurities onto them about not feeling appreciated enough? Which I know is bad, but it's instances like this that have bothered me in the past. You wouldn't take the children to a daycare if they've thrown up right? Or if they're sick with something like covid (which they gave us like two years ago), or if they have a fever, but they've brought them over anyway. It feels mean, you know? Like I love the kids, but I don't want to get sick. Maybe I'm just a horrible, paranoid, awful person and I do think that sometimes. Ha ha, is this an instance in which it would be ok to set a boundary🤔😭

On top of that, I don't charge Nancy extra (nor does she offer to pay) when she asks me to watch the kids on the weekends for a few hours or when she's got time off of work and wants to bring them over. I know this is my fault, because I do not charge her, but again I feel bad asking for more money. My biggest fear for a long time was that she would stop bringing the kids over if I did ask for a little raise or asked her not to bring them over if they were sick, but was always reminded by my brothers that Nancy didn't want to pay for daycare. Still I felt too ashamed to ask for more babysitting money or for Nancy or her husband to keep the kids home sick, and again I feared she would find someone else to watch the children.

Anyway, I told Nancy no. I was very apologetic and reminded her that I get really paranoid when someone is sick throwing up. I told her I just didn't want to get sick because then I'd be out for one to two days. Which would mean I wouldn't be able to watch Dennis and she or her husband would have to miss out on a day of work. Nancy sounded let down, maybe annoyed? I'm not sure, I can't remember. I am kind of spiraling about it  as I'm typing this out now. I feel really bad that I said no, especially because Nancy called me from her car so Natasha heard me say no. Luckily, Natasha was happy that she would get to go spend time with her mom at work. Nancy works in an office as the manager of a warehouse, so it's not like Natasha had to wait in some break room or alone somewhere.

Then tonight I get a message from Nancy saying Dennis threw up, and the panic set in all over again. I feel bad telling her to keep him, even though she eventually offered to keep him home after my many questions: what time did it happen; did he only puke once; does he have a fever; how is he feeling now? I'm sure she's annoyed that I might say "Yes, please keep him." Because that would mean she would either have to stay awake with him and not sleep before work tomorrow night, or that her husband would have to stay home. I think I'm going to tell her to keep him. I feel bad, but I guess not bad enough, huh? I'm trying to justify it to myself, I know, but that's why I'm here. Am I the asshole?

What are these acronyms?

[fuck-customers]

I’m so frustrated and tired.

This morning (like 6:10am, 12/4) I had just clocked out and gotten in my car to leave, when my coworker who had just come in called me. They said they weren’t sure if anyone else got in touch with me, but that “they” (meaning our boss) wanted to ask if I could cover for a different coworker on tonight’s shift.

I don’t mind being asked to cover, and will even usually take a shift, but what really bothered me about this is that the coworker who needed coverage, B, should have contacted me themself to ask me to cover for them. Or, if they weren’t able to do that for whatever reason, it should have been placed on my boss, C, to do that. But instead they delegated it to the morning coworker, D. And I have my own issues with D, so even though this incident was not their fault it made it worse all the same. Furthermore, getting B to help cover anybody is like pulling teeth. B and I are technically each other’s on-call backup, because we’re the only ones who work nights (and we only have the two daytime coworkers for the other days, so there’s only 4 people in my department total), but there have been plenty of times I was needing to ask everyone else, or even discuss what to do with my boss, because B refused to cover.

Anyway, for some context for the situation, during the workweek I stay with my mom and stepdad at their house because they live 5 minutes away from the hospital. On my days off I live in my own house with my dad, and our town is the next one over which is an hour away. Dad is there full time and needs me to help care for a lot of things around the house because he’s disabled. For example, he doesn’t have a car (and probably wouldn’t be able to drive safely nowadays anyway) so I have to take him to doctor appointments, physical therapy, pick up prescriptions, check the PO Box, things like that. He always has appointments on Mondays, every single week, which I have told C and our group lead a few times prior to this.

So I had initially told D that I couldn’t cover tonight because I had to pick up my groceries, drive an hour home and rest, and be able to take my dad to his appointments in the morning. They said they understood and would try to get help from others. So I get my stuff and go home and go about my morning.

I had gotten to bed around 10am. Now flash forward to 3:30pm, my dad is waking me up because my mom called him saying that my boss called her (we all work at the hospital so they know each other prior) stating that they couldn’t get a hold of me and needed me to respond to the requests for coverage.

My phone is always on silent, and I was dead asleep, so of course I didn’t know C was trying to reach me. So I ask what’s going on, C says I need to come in and cover because no one else is available. I explained the situation with my dad’s appointments, but C just went on with what felt like a passive aggressive explanation of how an on-call schedule works. Even though those rules don’t seem to apply to B, just to me. C went on to say that if I really couldn’t make it then D would have to do a 24 hour, or C would have to come help cover too.

First of all, if D really did have to take on a 24 hour shift nobody would ever hear the end of it and we’d all have to praise how great D is and how much they do. Which would be insufferable. Secondly, C is the manager so it’s literally their job to come in and cover the shift if no one else is able to! But of course they don’t want to give up their Sunday off either.

I talked to my mom about it and she said because of the on-call agreements that it is my job to come in, even though it’s unfair, and the most I can do is try to file a complaint with HR, which doesn’t seem right because then it just sounds like I’m complaining that someone is sick, which isn’t their fault. But this isn’t the first time B has done this stuff, and that was recently. I get being sick and feeling like shit, but you can’t be calling off constantly and expecting it to be fine. One of our day workers, M, comes in even when they’re sick (always wearing a mask and sanitizes the whole cubby area before they leave) because they can’t always get coverage. And I personally have chronic pain; I occasionally get really bad flare ups in certain areas, to the point where I can barely walk or move at all, and I’ve still come in to work (partially due to the fact that B refused to cover). If we can do these things while suffering then B can come in while sick too.

In any case, I came into work. I told C again about the every Monday appointments situation and they said they’d make note of it to ensure we can get better backup in the future. I’m so tired because I didn’t get a lot of sleep and then had to drive an hour back here just to work a 12 hour night shift and then go all the way back home and stay awake to take care of all my other obligations. And it’s been busy already. Not necessarily because we have so many patients, but I’ve had to run around garnering information from some, faxing things for the doctors, getting paperwork for the nurses, and walking visitors down to the floor. If one more damn person comes in at night and wants to go visit a patient I’m gonna snap.

And maybe in a week or two when B is back to work I’ll have a mysterious bout of illness and need a week off. I’ve got the PTO for it, so I can sit at home and rest and still get paid for it 🤷🏼‍♀️

The whole thing is just a bunch of nonsense. Maybe I can sneak a nap at the nurses station and just have them wake me up if a patient comes, because I really don’t feel too good about driving tired in the morning.

[imagine-the-energon]

PRIME DIRECTIVES, CHAPTER 3

She fiddled with her shirt sleeve as she sat on the porch, waiting for the yellow Camaro to finish pulling through the driveway.

It had been a week, and she was okay to move around the house so long as she didn’t harm herself. Which she wasn’t going to do, at all! She was rather happy with going over her documents and sorting through what she knew could wait, what she had to talk about with the others, and what had to be fixed immediately.

In her room, beside her bed, was a half-built cylinder composed of nanites from the six Cybertronians who were lingering somewhere in the forest. It was generating slowly, all of them expecting it to finish in roughly three or so months. And for some reason, it needed a vial of her blood, which hadn’t been a fun experience when she was stuck in bed, already feeling woozy every time she caught a glance at someone’s exposed chest and got an eyeful of the dissection scars.

So, yeah, she really didn’t want to be near the thing until it was time to get the Allspark in it so Alchemist and Amalgomist could find a safe place to put it until after Mission City.

“He is less than five miles away,” Stormdrive announced, shifting from where she was standing in her bipedal form, still smaller than the giant trees around the cabin. “Are you certain you wish to do this? You are still recovering.”

“I reached out to him,” she sighed. “And if it helps the timeline by getting him to Sam sooner, then we’ll have to take it. Besides, with the bank accounts Primus gave us, it’s safe to say we’ll be able to live anywhere and be set no matter what.”

“It’s good to know a god,” Nathan joked from beside her, making her roll her eyes.

“He’s, like, your father,” she frowned. “Doesn’t that make you a demi-god or something?”

“Most Primes are,” he shrugged. “Or, at least, that’s what their Caste wants you to believe. Sentinel was the worst at it. Optimus is the best example of a Prime without the divine heritage. But, yeah, we’re technically demi-gods.”

“And you and Storm…” she trailed off. “Like, siblings? Or?”

They both laughed. She felt ridiculous for asking it. “No, we were made to be a pair,” Stormdrive answered. “Us two are the only two not actually related to the other Thirteen. Well, aside from Morgan and Shadowburst.”

“Because they were made after, in the first wave.”

“Septimus mentored Sentinel before there was an… accident shortly after Sentinel no longer needed his advice.” Storm started, sounding hesitant.

“Convenient,” Nathan muttered. “When can we slag that piece of scrap metal?”

“2013 or 14,” she answered. “And I plan on going for him immediately, so he can’t get anyone killed.”

“That’s years away,” he protested, and she just shrugged.

“One mile,” Storm suddenly announced. “He believes that there were humans trying to find him, which is why he asked if he could still visit.”

“Sector Seven,” Ashley told her, getting a disgusted look from the femme as she stood. “Was he followed?”

“He claims to have lost them after 12 cycles,”

She frowned. “How much Earth time is that?”

Storm gave her a saddened look. “Roughly 12 hours. It should’ve normally taken six.”

“He was trying to lose them. He must be tired,” she sighed.

Not even a second later, a familiar, beat-up yellow Camaro came down the lane, with no driver in sight. The Autobot came to a halt as she started to walk down the steps, and the second her foot hit the ground, he was transformed and staring at the three of them, blue eyes wide as his doorwings twitched.

“Hello there- little lady,” he said towards her, making her let out a laugh.

“Hello,” she echoed. “We… we need to talk for a bit. And, Bumblebee, it’s really important that what we’re about to tell you, you don’t tell anyone else.”

He glanced over at Storm, who had the same seldom expression and nodded. He then looked around as the others entered the clearing, recognition on his face before he glanced back down at her.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Riley, and I work for someone called “The Informant”. They have the power to help stop the war, but they can’t do it alone, so they recruited us to help them.”

“The Informant- Dangerous?”

It was weird, hearing her voice, but she shook her head. “They want to ensure Cybertronians survive as a species, and this war is preventing that. They don’t want to fight.”

“They would be considered a NAIL,” Stormdrive butted in. “They don’t care about factions. They just want the fighting to stop.”

Bumblebee looked over the femme before glancing down at her. “What are- your words- human?”

—————————————-

It took a lot to get Bumblebee to promise them he wouldn’t tell Optimus unless he had just cause to, and even then she wasn’t completely sure what he meant by “just cause”. As it were, they didn’t tell him anything about the Allspark or the Matrix, only that the Informant was looking for them and would be able to get confirmed locations within a year. She was their contact, and she wanted to help as much as possible. In return, he’d help get them in with the Autobots.

Which meant between planning on how to get to the Allspark, they also now had to house hunt for a place that was close enough to the Witwickyes, it wouldn’t seem odd that she reached out. Hmm, well, Micronus was technically the same age as Sam in this new life, and even though he could easily test out of it… hopefully he wouldn’t be too angry.

She sat down on one of the couches in the barn that the bots used with a huff, Nathan glancing up from where he was fiddling with some phone components. “Still thinking about what to do?” he asked, and she just nodded with a grimace.

“One thing at a time,” she finally said. “First thing’s first: The Allspark. It’s top priority that it’s moved vessels before it’s destroyed in Mission City.”

“And have you figured out how yet?” He asked, causing her to give a so-so motion.

“They’re obsessed with Cybertronians,” she started, voice soft. “If we create a diversion and cause most of them to leave for capture, we could most likely slip in and out without much issue.”

“But that puts the others at risk,” he cautioned, making her nod.

“They’re aware that cold is a weakness through Megatron. Is there any way they could get at least some temporary cold upgrades?”

Nathan barked out a laugh. “We’re not some type of-”

“Machine to upgrade?” she finished, smirking at how he flushed. “I’m not trying to imply that, but anything to give them an edge, we should take.”

“Quinn might be able to tell someone what to make,” he mused. “If he could find a way, it would be him. Pray he never meets Brainstorm.”

“Ha, or Wheeljack. The universe would explode.”

—————————————-

Bumblebee was… certainly something. He was definitely a child at heart, especially as she pinned down that he was the equivalent of 17, and would be for another 50 or so years. It made sense as to why he bonded with Sam so easily, and as she sat on the couch in the barn, introducing him to the world of video games, she wondered if they could use this to their advantage.

“We could enroll you and Michael in school,” she mused, making his hardlight form tilt his head towards her, otherwise enthralled by Mario Kart: Double Dash. “It’s normal for some to not be able to speak in humanity, through birth or,” she let her eyes flick to his throat, where the scar tissue could vaguely be seen. “Traumatic response. And then Morgan can get a job as an interpreter, and that’s three of us in school to get close to Witwicky.”

Bee paused the game, turning to her, eyebrows furrowed before she watched his hands slowly form words and desperately wished she paid more attention when her sister tried to teach her the language. He signed something again, but this time, she watched as he raised his pinkie before making an L shape and the pinkie again, followed by a V and a nearly closed fist.

“You… like? ASL?” she asked, getting a smile and a nod. “I’m glad. There are a lot of uses for it outside of just talking. Speaking of talking…” she trailed off, staring at him as he lowered his hands. “You said you’d contact Optimus about us so the others wouldn’t be blindsided. That was a few days ago ‘Bee, and you still haven’t done it.”

Suddenly, his form disappeared in a flash of static, making her sigh and pull out her phone.

“I’ll do it then!” She called out before lowering her voice to a mutter. “I hope Optimus grounds him.”

—————————————-

10:46 AM [SECURED PHONE 1]: B told me you were running low on Energon. There’s a deposit beside my place that can be refined into cubes by the time you get here.

10:50 AM [O.PAX]: I apologize, I do not believe we have been introduced.

10:53 AM [SECURED PHONE 1:] Shit, he hasn’t briefed you yet? Please don’t be angry at him. I have a datapacket that has information. You can run it for viruses or whatever, but you’ll understand when you read it.

11:20 AM [O. PAX]: You offer this information freely?

11:21 AM [SECURED PHONE 1]: As freely as I can. There’s some things even I don’t know, and then there’s stuff I have to keep secret. I wish you and your team no ill will, Prime.

11:21: AM [O. PAX]: Are you able to get Archibald Witwicky’s glasses?

11:22 AM [SECURED PHONE 1]: Maybe? Even if I get the glasses, the decepticons are going to go after Sam, even if they know he doesn’t have them, ‘cause he’ll be a link to you.

11:22 AM [SECURED PHONE 1]: There’s… also something you should know. About Megatron and the Allspark.

—————————————-

Bumblebee still got in trouble, but more for not contacting them about allies sooner than revealing himself to an unknown. He left to go with Quinn and Shadowburst to scout Tranquility for houses and then to enroll him and Michael into the local school, which he was… strangely excited for. It was then she realized he probably missed moments like that, if he ever had them to begin with.

While they were gone, the rest schemed of Sector 7, Megatron, and the Allspark. Of how they were going to get into the facility, and how they were going to get out. How they were going to transfer the Allspark without anyone noticing, and how they were going to do an in-depth scan of Megatron without alerting his systems.

In the end, they agreed that she would sneak into the Hoover Dam with Morgan and Nathan while Stormdrive and Overboard distracted Sector 7. In her bag would be the small cylinder made of pure Cybertronian ores and ever-evolving nanites.

She was aware of the looks the other two were giving her as she handed them the lab coats and clipboards and did her best to ignore them. It was easy to get away from the tour group, and even easier to get into S7 territory.

Of course, it might have something to do with the two Primes triggering every alarm they could for NBE activity. They had roughly six months before the other Autobots would be in position for them to come down to Earth, and any change as drastic as tipping Sector 7 off would ruin all of their plans in one fell swoop.

She was mapping out escape plans when they rounded the corner and found herself frozen and the sight of the near sixty-foot cube that was crackling with energy. Suddenly, the cylinder in her bag felt too small.

“Ash?” Nathan murmured, pulling her from her thoughts.

“I knew it was going to be big,” she whispered back. “Can the container hold all of that energy?”

“Energy?” Morgan echoed. “What energy?”

“There’s… there’s literal lightning coming off of the cube! You mean to say that…” she trailed off, looking between their twin horrified looks. “Only I can see it.”

And it was only then, that after almost four months of planning, did it sink in.

“Purity,” she whispered. “I was never supposed to be a Cybertronian… I was supposed to be the Allspark’s next vessel. I am supposed to be it.” The mention of conduciveness made sense now. “Did you know? Any of you?”

“No,” Nathan immediately answered, looking as sick as she felt. “We would’ve protested if we knew. The Allspark isn’t supposed to be housed in a living being. The consequences alone-”

“We can argue over this later,” Morgan cut in. “We don’t have enough time to just stand here and do nothing while Stormdrive and Overboard are giving us a distraction.”

“You’re right,” she murmured, moving forward, her legs feeling like they were trying to give out from underneath her. They had clipboards with papers, but as she glanced at them again, only hers had the transfer information. Their badges were scanned and they were waved through.

They separated, Ash going to the very top where she could see the energy gathering the most. The second she touched it, it was like the world had been whisked away. It was just her and the cube.

Hello Purity.

Hello Knowledge, she thought back, fighting off a shudder as the information the hundreds of previous vessels had run through her. This is what Sam had to deal with? All those equations and schematics? All the voices in their heads?

You’re late.

I was sidetracked.

Are you going to aid them all, or aid the one?

She paused at this, fingers almost lifting away. What am I supposed to do? Even with the information you are giving me, it’s only half of what I already know. What is true? What is false?

What is greater, the will to hate, or the will to have peace?

She knew the answer as the informational flow stopped, causing her to come back, shaking her head and blinking rapidly. She looked at the checkerboard, which had what looked to be some filled-out paperwork and clipped the pen back into place.

The descent down was slow, and when she got to Nathan and Morgan, it took everything not to collapse.

“She’s burning up,” Nathan hissed once he checked her over. “We need to find a new vessel.”

“No,” she blurted out. “We need to-” she cut herself off, standing up a bit straighter as a few scientists walked past them. “We still need to scan Megatron. I’ll be fine until we get back to the cabin.”

“But-” Nathan started, but she shook his arm off, ignoring her shaking legs.

“Megatron, now.” she hissed, a wave of heat flaring with her irritation, and the two men inhaled sharply.

“Ok, just… calm down,” Morgan soothed. “Your eyes went white and glowed.” She wanted to do nothing more than to tear his head off at telling him to calm down, but instead took a deep breath and continued walking until she found herself stopped again, the sudden chill making her want to cry for the warlord.

At first, she thought that he was gray, like in the movies, but upon a closer look, she realized it was the ice making him appear lighter than he was. She could see that the bottom of his feet was nearly pitch black, and the further up she went, the closer he got to whatever was keeping him frozen, the more silver he got.

“Thermoregulating armor?” she whispered, and one of the scientists looked at her from his station.

“Maybe. We’ve been trying to study it for years, but there are these things that immediately seal the pieces we try to cut off,” He shrugged before noticing the scanner in her hand. “What’s that?”

“A scanner,” she answered. “Banachek was the one who ordered its creation. We think it might be able to cut through the radiation NBE-1 is giving off.” They would have no idea it was a basic medical scanner that was able to pass through EM fields.

“Well, hope it works,” he said, waving her forward, and the three moved as one, Ash once again at the top of the scaffolding while the other two were at the other ends, their own scanners in hand.

She found herself unable to look away from his face, that sick feeling coming back tenfold as she saw the barely alight red optics almost… staring at her. “You’ll be free from this soon, Megatronus,” she promised quietly, lowering the scanner to point toward his spark chamber. She saw the Cybertronian scrolling by as the readings were taken, but her focus was on the pulse-rate of his spark, which was slow, but trying to speed up the longer the scan went.

The device gave a tiny beep before shutting off, and she stepped back, the feeling of being watched still coming from the mech in front of her. His optics were flicking, and she took a risk, reaching out and hovering, not quite touching him as her fingers screamed at the cold he was radiating.

“Peace will come soon,” she promised again. “Don’t forget why you approached the Senate originally.”

Nathan cleared his throat and she pulled her hand back, walking away as the first alarm began to ring.

[raineydays411]

Thanks T

 Summary: A dad is supposed to be your rock. Someone you can go to when times are hard. Someone whos supposed to protect you. WHat happens when your dad doesn’t fit the bill, and Tony does?

A/n: Hello yall! So this story hit really close to home for me lmao. It was mentioned that there aren’t any good dad/step dad Tony fics so I hope you like it. Everyone thank @alphaandromedae97 and an anon for this fic. 

Hope yall enjoy!

Your life was complicated. 

How can it not be when Tony “billionaire playboy” Stark is your step dad. 

Yes you read that right, step dad. It’s funny really, turns out he has a thing for waitresses that aren’t interested in him at first. That waitress being your mom.

They met when she was working a shift at the restaurant she works at, and he came in with Avengers. He expected her to fall at their feet like everyone else did, but she just scoffed and asked for their order. Pretty epic. 

Then one long montage later, and they ended up getting married. You were happy for your mom, of course. Deep down, Tony is a good man and you knew he’d do anything for your mom. And he’s always been nice to you, making sure you were okay with him proposing and then you moving upstate with him and your mom. He always made sure you felt included, maybe a little too much. He actually took interest in your life, which you’ll always appreciate. 

But you were a total daddy's girl by heart. You always felt like you had a close relationship with your biological father. He was a good dad, he took you out to movies, went to recitals, and always made sure to take you to the father-daughter dance your school district put on every year. It was your tradition. But after your parents divorced a few years ago, it seemed like he was getting more and more distant from you. He stopped calling as much, would skip out on your days to visit him and when you did visit, he’d lock himself in his office, claiming he had to finish some paperwork. It broke your heart, knowing that a man you were so close with, seems to be detaching himself from your life. But, in his defence he always managed to take you to the father-daughter dance. He always did. No matter how long the both of you went without seeing each other, no matter how long you haven’t spoken, he always made sure to take you. 

That act alone, reassured you that he did still love you. He was just busy. In fact, you were getting ready to go to the final father-daughter dance, as you were going to graduate this year and therefore you would be too old to attend the next year. This year was especially important to you. You wanted this night to be perfect. 

And you were positive your father would pull through as he has the past years.

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

You were filled with excitement as you tried on multiple different dresses. You always liked this part of getting ready, the dress shopping. 

The confidence you feel when you finally found the right dress. The happy feeling you and your mother had, browsing through the dress shop downtown. Tony offered to buy you a custom designer dress, but you couldn’t accept. This was the shop you’ve been going to since you were a little girl, since you went to your very first dance with your dad. Call it nostalgia or tradition, but you couldn’t shop anywhere else. 

“ Hey ma! I think I found the one.” You shout from the dressing room, finally finding your dress after hours of searching. 

“Come out here and let’s see bug” She replies from where shes seated. You take a deep breath, soothing the wrinkles on the dress and walking outside. Your mother gasps as she see the gown. It was beautiful really. It was a glittery, lilac purple floor length dress with spaghetti straps. And it even had pockets! You were absolutely obsessed. Plus, you could probably use it as a prom dress if you really wanted to.

“Oh baby...you look so beautiful...” You mom says, tearing for the millionth time. 

“Ma, are you crying again?!” You laugh, “ Come on, that's the fifth time you’ve cried since we’ve been in the store!”

She laughs with you, sniffling as she wipes her tears,” I’m sorry, but you’re getting so big, it feels like it was only yesterday we were walking in this shop to get your first dress...and now...” She starts to cry again.

You smile softly, understanding what your mom was saying. You were in kindergarten when you first started attending these meetings, now you’re a senior in highschool. 

“Alright, no more crying. It’s a happy day for you. Has your father called texted you when he was going to come pick you up?” Your mom asked wiping her tears.

You frown, “ No, I haven;’t hear from him since two weeks ago when he said he wanted to get lunch.”

You can see your mom roll her eyes in the mirror, “ Mom he’s just busy. I’m sure he’ll call when he can.”

“Oh sure, I just hate that he doesn’t answer you fast enough.”

“I know ma, but he has work” You argue, “ He calls when he can, and that's okay.”

Your mom sighs, knowing that you were stubborn when it comes to your father. 

“ Well, let’s get this wrapped, Tony wants to get lunch and we need to convince him to get something other than shawarma.” 

You roll your eyes, “ God, what’s with that man and shawarma. It’s like his life line or something”

“I know!”

After the two of you buy the dress, you pick up Tony from the HQ. You loved the drive up there,mainly because of the scenery, but also cause you can see Cap running laps outside.

“Hell my love, hey kiddo” Tony greets switching seats with your mom.

‘Hey T” You greet, smiling at the man. 

“Did you find the dress?” He asks, driving away from his place of work and to a restaurant. 

“Yeah! It’s like the one I told you I wanted. I was surprised it was there to be honest.” You reply, “ Mom practically dehydrated herself shopping though.”

“Oh? How many times did she cry this time? Cause she was crying earlier when she was getting read-- OW! Hey I’m driving” He exclaims as your mom swats his arm.

You giggle at their antics, chest warming with the sight of your mom happy again.

“She cried five times while we were shopping. Five!”

“Five? I didn’t know the human body had that much water.”

The two of you chuckled as your mom made an offended noise.

“I hate that the two of you get on so well.” She pouts, “ And excuse me if I’m a little sad my baby is growing up so fast.”

You tune out the rest of their conversation as your phone buzzes. 

Dad

Hey kid, I’m gonna have to meet you at the school tomorrow. I have a meeting that’s gonna run late.

You

Okay daddy, I’ll see you there <3

You frown, your dad always managed to pick you up from the house. He used to take you to eat before the dance. And he always used to take the day off, devoting his time to you.

“ Uh oh, someone's frowning back there.” Tony remarks, “ What’s wrong kiddo, did a character off that show you like die/”

“Uh no, ma do you think you can drop me off at the dance tomorrow? Dad said he has a late meeting and won’t be able to pick me up.”

Your mother makes eye contact with Tony. They both know how your father has been flaking on you and how it breaks your heart that he does. It makes Tony especially mad because it remind him of his childhood. How his father really didn’t pay attention to him unless he was criticizing  his life choices.

“ Hey y/n, I can drop you off if you want.” Tony offers, “ I really don’t mind.”

You smile, “Thanks T.” 

“No problem kid.”

And with that he pulls into the restaurant parking lot. 

As your family is seated, you take a quick look around the restaurant, wanting to see the reactions of the patrons when they realize Tony Stark is in the building. But as you do, you see a man who looks very familiar. But before you can take a closer look your mom interrupts you.

“Y/n, you know it's rude to stare.”

“Oh sorry mom.” 

So you take a seat and continue with your meal. You tune out your mother and Tony’s conversation as you can’t take your mind off of that man. You take a quick glance back while your parents discuss the dessert menu.

That’s when you realize that the man was your father!

You stand up from the table and make your way towards the man. Surprised to see him there because as far as you know, he’s supposed to be in a meeting right now.

“Daddy?” You ask cautiously. The man tenses up before turning to you.

“Y/n? Honey what are you doing here?” You notice he doesn’t make an attempt to get up and hug you. 

And you also notice the second plate of food across from him and a napkin stained with what looked like lipstick.

“Um, T and Ma wanted to grab dinner.. I thought you were at a meeting?”

“This is a five star restaurant, and you just stopped in?” He asks ignoring your question, “ Of course Stark did..”

You wanted to roll your eyes. Everytime your mother was even close to being happy, your dad always found something wrong with the person she was with. But he seemed to have a strong disliking towards Tony for some reason.

“Um right...So you told me you were in a meeting? That’s why I couldn’t come over after dress shopping?”

“Right! A meeting...I’m currently in right now.” He says quickly looking towards the women's bathroom, “ You should go back to your table hon, my boss is really strict”

“Oh right, sorry” You say dejected, “ I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” your dad says with a soft smile, “ I love you Bug.”

You smile at the nickname your parents gave you, “ I love you too pop.” 

And with that you walk off, back to your mother and Tony. You can see they’re trying to hide the fact that they were watching by covering their face with the dessert menus.

“Oh here you are, we got you a tiramisu” Tony says nonchalantly, pushing the dessert towards you.

“Uh huh” You hummed teasingly, “ Dad says hi by the way.” 

“ Oh does he now?” You mom said not convinced, “ That’s nice of him.”

You hummed, mouthful of cake signaling that you were done with the conversation. Your family finished up their meals and signaled for the check. As you were walking out the restaurant, you turned to say goodbye to your dad, only to see his “boss” was back from the restroom.

Only this boss was a 5′3, brunette bombshell in a tight red dress and having her neck kissed by the man you call your father. 

Your stomach felt sick.

“Oh gross, I really didn’t need to see that.” You mutter catching the attention of Tony who was behind you. 

“See what kid?” He asks following your gaze, “Oh. Yikes is that even allowed? I didn’t know your dad was a vampire.”

You snort, “ Oh god T, that's disgusting.” 

He just laughs and pats your head, “ Come on, lets go before your mom yells at us.”

You smile, but you wondered why your dad didn’t tell you that he was on a date. Or that he was even seeing someone?

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

Thoughts of your fathers secrets where wiped from your brain as you scrambled to get ready for the dance the next day.

Tony surprised you and your mom with a mani-pedi day at 10am and a hair appointment for you at 1pm. After you had to get shoes for your dress at the mall and then be home by 5pm to get your dress and makeup on, take pictures, and then be out the door by 7pm to take pictures with your dad, then finally be at the dance by 8pm when doors open. 

The whole day you were messaging your dad about how excited you are, getting similar replays back. He pays for you shoes and complements your hair. 

Your heart swells as you think about how hard it was in the beginning of the divorce. But your father always tried his best to spend time with you and made sure you knew he loved you.  

It was hard on you at first, but you appreciate that he tried for you. The fact that he’s been taking you to this dance since you were a little girl is proof enough. You were a little sentimental, this was your last dance after all. 

You smiled looking at yourself in the mirror. You looked beautiful in your dress. Your makeup was done to perfection and you had gotten a silk press in your hair. You felt like a princess.  You heard your mom sniffle.

“Mom, again?” You laugh,turning to face her.

“I’m sorry! You just look so beautiful!” she says with a sad smile, “ God, you grew up so fast bug” 

You roll your eyes, but feel the tears spring to your eyes as well, “ Ma! Stop I can’t ruin my make up” 

You both laugh as you fan your eyes

“You ready?” She asks, “ Tony’s waiting for you in the living room.”

You nod, gathering your things and walking out the door. You let your mom walk down the stairs first. You can hear Tony and you assume Happy in the living room. You finally make it down the stairs. It turns out it was Tony, Happy, and Peter Parker. Your mom was chatting with them and they all had their back turned to you. 

“Ahem.” You clear your throat, catching their attention.

You see Peter stiffen as he gazes at you and mutters a soft “Wow”

You blush, what can you say he’s a cutie.

 Happy gives you a comforting smile.

 And Tony?

He has a soft look on his face, “ Jeez kid, you clean up well.” 

You laugh, “ Better than you old man, what's up with the pants?”

He had on Iron Man pj pants.

“Oh hush.” He laughs, “ You look beautiful kiddo.” 

You look down with a grin.

“Oh pose for some pictures!” You mom says excitedly, “ Go Y/n, by your self first and then with me. Then with Tony.”

You sigh, knowing how long it was gonna take.  

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

Finally after three million pictures, your mom and Tony drove you to the school.

“Okay bug, is your dad here?” Your mom asks looking around at the group. 

“Yeah! He should be inside.” You say kissing your mom goodbye and waving to Tony. You show the ticket and waltz in the gym. 

You smile and wave at classmates and parents. These people you’ve known since you were a child and who knew you. You finally got to the table you always sat at woth your dad. 

It was empty.

You frown and look at your phone.

Me

On my way pop!

It said the message was read.

“He must be on  driving” You think to yourself as you sat at the table.

But then twenty minutes passed. Then an hour. then two

You were still there, waiting for your dad to come. You sent five messages and they all remained unopened. 

You looked around the gym, seeing a few parents looking at you with pity in their eyes. You can barely stand it.

You got up and went to the restroom, trying not to cry. and in the restroom you tried calling you father, but you were sent to voicemail. The you finally got a message. 

Dad

“I’m so sorry bug, I can’t make it to the dance. I have a meeting today. :(”

You felt dejected. Humiliated. 

Your father has rearranged visitation days, skipped out on little crimonied and rectitals you’ve had, but this by far was the most disappointing thing he has done. 

He promised multiple times that he’d be here. Never has he ever skipped out on the dance before.  ANd he knew how important this was to you. Thi was your last dance, and he ruined it. 

You let yourself cry. You sobbed as you realized that your father has been distancing himself from you. That your relationship hasn’t been okay for a while. And you just didn’t want to let go.

You sigh as you realize you’ve been in the restroom for a while. You stand up and look at your face. Despite the red eyes and slightly red nose, your make up was pretty much intact.

“Huh at least my setting spray hasn’t let me down.” You say to your self. After a few mintues of calming down, you walk out of the restroom and bump into a figure. 

“Sorry” you mutter about to pass the person. 

“Gee you took a while in there, I told you not to get that coffee kid.” 

You quickly look up and se Tony.

Dressed in a suit, flowers in hand.

“Hey kid.” He says softly

“what..what are you doing here?” You whisper, tears filling your eyes again.

“Well apparently you need an rent a dad, and I happened to be in the neighborhood.” He jokes, then says, “ I’m sorry your dad didn’t come kiddo, and I know I’m not him, and quite frankly I’m glad I’m not. But I do love you like you’re my own, and well...yeah here I am.”

You stay quiet, looking at Tony in wonder. Touched that he did this for you.

“Of course if you just want to leave then we can just get out of here” He rambles nervously, “ But you gotta tell me kid cause I’m kinda freaking out.”

“Can we get ice cream after?” You ask him

“What?”

“After the dance, we should go get ice cream.” 

“Uh sure?” Tony says, “So what do you usually do at these things?” 

You laugh and steer him to the tables where they have all the activities at. You actually have more fun with him than you had recently wit your dad. Tony is definitely more competitive than your father and treats every game as a challenge. Not like something he’s humoring just for his kid. He celebrates with you instead of telling you to calm down. He chats with the adults, is nice to the kids, and does the goofy dances with you. Seeing Iron Man do the chicken dance is something you didn’t know you needed till now. He managed to turn this horrible night to one of the best ones you’ve had in quite a while. 

Finally the father daughter dance started to signal the end of the dance. Tony bowed dramatically and said in a horrible british accent, “ Lady Y/n?”

You laugh and make your way to the dance floor. You’re both quiet for a bit, snorting at how serious the other dads and their daughters look.

“Hey T?” You say softly, looking at the ground.

“Yeah kid?” 

“Thank you. It’s nice to know that one of my dad's isn’t a total asshole.” You say. knowing that this is the first time you referred to Tony as your dad.

His eyes get misty as he clears his throat,

“Anytime, bug”

[lostgreekgod]

delusion

a/n: hello aaaaa i had @theaudacitytowrite give me a prompt for a loki x reader fic solely because I do not find entertainment elsewhere! anyways

word count: 2776 (shit got longer, but what can I say I'm very feely when it comes to angst)

warnings: angst. angst angst angst. some crying. there was this one mention of blood, tendons & stuff ? but that's about it have fun crying

pairing: loki x f!reader

summary: you and Loki have been together for quite some time now. what happens when his insecure self realizes that you love him? and that he does too?

another a/n: I feel like this could use a part 2 i might come up with it next week because I've got a 7 day break from school yayy lmk if you'd like that nexie

4 years. It had been 4 years, 3 months, and 27 days since y/n had shed a tear. But on this fine autumn morning, as the yellow and brown leaves rustled in the gentle winds, as the smell of coffee, pumpkin, and spice wafted in the air, she let a tear fall- courtesy of her lover. No, scratch that. Her ex-lover.

\\ 3 hours earlier \\

Humming a tuneless song, an exhausted y/n walked back to her room in the Avenger’s tower. A whole day of training wouldn’t be smart when she had a crucial mission to lead just the next day, but she wanted the mission to pan out exactly right. This wasn’t her first mission, but the stats were so much more critical compared to the missions she had been sent on before. A new rival organization was springing up in SHIELD’s radar, and they seemed as high as ever in spirit, regardless of how the Avengers had managed to crush HYDRA not so long ago. Apparently, according to a message they had received a few moments before, the up-and-coming organization had 4 junior agents in captivity, and in exchange for those agents, they wanted intel. Fury’s plan was to provide a hard drive with incorrect information with an embedded virus, and have the agents rescued before the rival agents decrypted the file and realized SHIELD’s play. Two birds with one stone, as he had phrased. y/n was going to go in with Natasha and Loki. Nat, because she was as light as a cat on her feet, and Loki because he had his seidr for illusions, teleportation, et cetera. This wasn’t going to be her first mission with her 4-month boyfriend either, but she was excited to be fighting alongside him, nevertheless. As she washed up in the shower, she heard her room door open and close with a click. Finally. She thought with a smile. She could go to sleep in her beloved’s arms for the few hours she had left for rest and relaxation before they set out. Putting on her nightgown, she left the bath. She saw how Loki was cocooned on her bed, arms reaching out towards her, a little smile on his face. Unlike her, the god didn’t train much- but he still looked tired.

“Hello, my little lioness. Whom did you beat up today? You do realize it is wiser to rest before a mission.” He said in a loud, lazy whisper. All y/n could do was smile sweetly at him and snuggle under the covers. He knew how the lack of training made her insecure about her ability to be stealthy. Instead of letting Loki’s arms wrap around her like most of the other nights, she spooned his chest instead. Loki’s eyes widened at the sudden gesture, his body tensing up at the sudden disposal of love. He had only given love; he had never been on the receiving side of it. Wait, love? He didn’t love y/n. He didn’t. That swell he felt in his chest every time he saw her was simply the result of the great appreciation and respect he had for her. Nothing more. He couldn’t love her. After all, everyone he had ever loved ended up being taken away from him.

Chuckling lightly, he hoped y/n wouldn’t catch onto his nervousness. “What are you doing my dear?”

Inhaling his scent, y/n mumbled, her eyes still closed. “Sleeping. Go to sleep my love. We have to be up in less than 3 hours.”

My love? Yes, y/n had called him that multiple times, but he had never thought much of it. Why was he suddenly so wary of it? Did y/n truly love him? No, maybe she wasn’t thinking. She was already worn out and sleepy, maybe she blurted it out accidentally. No one could love him. No one.

y/n sensed that he still hadn’t relaxed. Cracking her eyes slightly open, she asked lightly, “Is everything okay, love?” Loki’s brows furrowed at her question. There it was again. Love. Loving him was impossible. To love him would be delusional. A move of delusional stupidity. Blatant ignorance.

Loki shifted away from her and sat up, ignoring the throbbing in his chest when he heard her whine in response. He met her eyes only to be asked another question. “Love, what’s the matter?”

His heart clenched against his chest, suddenly the room was too hot. He had to understand what was going on. He had to figure this out before it was too late.

“Love?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

y/n scanned his face, trying to understand the reason for his sudden withdrawal. She simply hummed in response.

Loki raised his eyebrows, indicating her to reiterate her response.

“Yes, what is the matter?”

“You referred to me as ‘love’.” He repeated, his tongue spewing out the last word like it was coated in dirt and grime.

“Yes, I suppose I did. Is something bothering you?” she asked again, placing her hand on his thigh as a gesture of concern.

How was he expected to ask her if she actually, truly loved him, without causing a kerfuffle? Without making it seem awkward, without losing her? What if she said she didn’t love him? What then? Would that make him feel better? Would that make him happy? A chill ran down his spine when he realized his answer. No. he wouldn’t be happy. In fact, he’d be terribly upset. He wanted y/n to love him. Shaking his head, he tried to heed logic over his emotion. He had to stop himself before he caused something he couldn’t fix. Before y/n realized the monster he truly was. He had to protect his beloved y/n, that would be the least he owed to her, after all that he had led her into.

He neutralized his expression, calming his breathing. This was for the best. He was the God of Lies, he did not deserve love after all that he had done.

“As a matter of fact, y/n, something is bothering me.”

y/n nodded, encouraging him to explain his predicament. “You can talk to me, love.”

Loki inhaled quickly, the use of the blasted term knocking him out of character for a second before he was able to regain his composure. He would ask the question directly. Right to the point, like he was doing business. That was the only way he could maintain his pretense without breaking down too soon. y/n might never forgive him after tonight, but to have her angry at him was so much better than losing her, on his account.

“Do you love me?”

y/n gasped lightly at the sudden question, her eyes widening at how Loki asked her about something so deep with no emotion in his voice. She sensed his sudden hostility, this coldness he was presenting her with. Sitting upright, she looked into his eyes. Nothing. She could read nothing from his expression. All she could pick up was this eerie sadness radiating off of him.

She decided to try reasoning with him. This sudden hostility meant something was bothering him at a much more personal level, and such issues mustn’t be dealt with before an important mission. She would know.

“We don’t have to do this today, Loki. We have to be up early tomorrow, and I doubt- “

“Answer the question, y/n.” Loki interrupted, his voice hardened like steel.

“Loki, we really mustn’t-“ she tried again.

“Answer, y/n.” he pressed.

y/n could only look at him and wonder what the cause was for the unexpected change in his demeanor. How was she supposed to tell him? How was she supposed to give the answer to the one question that could either make or break everything that they had together? How was she supposed to tell him that her love for him was far more than life? That he was her life? It didn’t matter how less time they had spent with each other; she knew him a lot longer before they had decided to begin their courtship, and she had fallen in love with him even before they had gotten romantically involved. She only fell harder for him after she saw how he truly was. How broken and vulnerable, how he yearned for a place in someone’s heart, how he wished someone could love him without any foretold conditions. How he wished to be free. Loki’s eyes widened as realization dawned upon him. y/n’s lack of response answered his question. She did love him. But he had to hear it from her. That was the only way he could finish this for good. For his y/n.

“I’m waiting.” He prompted, slightly flinching at the coldness in his voice.

y/n’s eyes flicked over to his, her skin eliciting goosebumps from the steely nature of his voice. He had never been like this to her. The last time she had seen him like this was when he was under Thanos’ control. Breathing deeply, she reached out and held his hands, shutting her eyes for a moment.

“Yes. I do. I love you,” she whispered, blood pounding against her ears. Her heart convulsed in her chest when Loki didn’t reply. She cracked her eyes open, her fingers growing cold at Loki’s unchanged demeanor.

Loki’s chest heaved at her response. ‘I love you,’ she had whispered, her eyes shut at the vulnerability of their situation. He already knew what she was going to say, but to hear it from her own mouth, her voice tiny as ever in fear that he wouldn’t return her feelings had him gasp slightly. His blood ran cold, his mind freezing at another realization. He loved her too. Of course he did. How could he have been so blind? He loved her so much, he hadn’t even noticed. Finish it! Finish it right now! Before you make things worse! His mind screamed at him. He knew what he had to do. Swallowing, he tried to memorize the feel of her hands against his. This was all he was ever going to have. A memory. A memory of his little lioness, a memory of what he would have had if he was someone different. Someone nicer, better. Someone not him. He pulled away from her, and met her eyes, his expression stoic and emotionless. Like the monster he was.

“Pity.” He whispered, his heartbreaking at how y/n’s eyes widened. He thought he experienced heartbreak when he lost his mother. As destructive as that moment was, many years ago, he believed he wouldn’t feel anything over this. After all, you can’t break something that’s already broken. But boy, was he wrong. This was heartbreak. And apparently, it's even worse when you go through it a second time. His veins felt like ice, his head heavier than ever. He could feel his throat closing up, all he wanted was to rip his heart out of his chest. He didn’t deserve her. Hell, he didn’t deserve to live after all that he had done.

“What?” came y/n’s voice, a little barely over a whisper. He couldn’t help but notice how her voice was heavy, laced with hurt.

“It’s a pity you think you love me.” He reiterated, his words chapping away at his already cracked heart.

y/n couldn’t process the event unfolding in front of her. Loki didn’t love her. No, worse. Loki thought it was stupid that she loved him. If she had any concern for her dignity, she would ask him to leave. But she loved him far too much. She decided to try one last time. Straddling him, she reached over and cupped his face in his hands, pressing her lips against his ice-cold ones. He was shocked for a moment, and before he realized, he was kissing her back. I love you, he wanted to say. I love you too. But all could do was try and engrave in his mind the feeling of her soft lips on his, the warmth of her hands against his cheeks. This was the end. He had to use all his willpower not to pull her in his arms and deepen the kiss, and whisper sweet nothings in her ear.

Breaking away, y/n whispered, “it may be stupid that I do. Pathetic, even. -It isn’t pathetic. I love it.- Honestly, not one day goes by where I don’t face criticism about how I must be an ignorant fool to love someone like you. But what these people don’t understand, is that they are the ones that are ignorant. They do not see you as I do, and although I wish every day that they would, I doubt it will ever happen. You are, the best thing that has ever happened to me. That ever will happen to me,” she says, taking his hand and placing it over her heart. “Can’t you feel this? This is what I feel every time I think of you- this is how I feel every time you merely breathe in my direction. -You are the reason I still exist, my dear. You keep me tethered to the outside world.- My love for you has been in existence for far longer than our courtship. I wish I could do more than just tell you how much I love you, if I could, I would give you anything, everything you’ve ever wanted; my heart was yours the moment I set eyes on you 2 years ago. So take it, trample over it- it was yours to do anything with anyway. -So was mine. I am yours, just as you claim to be mine.- I love you, Loki Friggason, and I refuse to stop. -I love you too, my darling y/n. but I must do this. For you. Forgive me.-”

All Loki could do was hold in all those thoughts he desperately wanted to put in words. He could feel his eyes well up, his chest convulsing for the umpteenth time. Inhaling her scent, he hoped he would remember the sweet smell of chocolate and wine she always smelled of.

With great restraint, he pushed her off of him, his heart churning at y/n’s gasp. Her heart cracked at his dismissal. He couldn’t look at her while he shattered her heart, while he ripped it right off the pedestal. This was the end.

“You say all this, but you mean nothing by it, I assure you. I have encountered numerous midgardians professing their love for me, but I can tell when someone lies y/n. And it is very clear to me how you are simply overwhelmed. You do not love me. You are simply but a blatant, ignorant fool.” Could his heart shatter any further? Apparently, yes. It clawed at his chest, pain searing in his bones. He would feel all of it. He would embrace it.

He forced his lips to morph into a twisted, sickening smile. Agony. That is what he felt. Fresh burning agony, like fire in his tendons.

“What we have is all but a product of boredom. I was simply bored, silly mortal.” He looked up at her when she gasped, her hand on her heart. It was almost as if he could hear it shatter. All he wanted to do was hold her and weep. Tell her how sorry he was. Tell her how he wished he was the person she truly deserved. Instead, he was going to crawl into a ball and wish for death.

He got up to leave. Once and for all. Shutting his eyes for a moment, he willed his tears to sink back to wherever they came from. He didn’t deserve to cry.

“Did I ever matter to you?” he heard her whisper. Deciding not to answer, he stepped towards the door before she called to him. “Did I, Loki?” she asked again, her voice steadier. There was the woman he had hopelessly fallen in love with. A lioness, she certainly was.

He turned around to look at her, the same lifeless smile dancing across his lips. If he was someone else, he would have been taken aback at y/n’s stoic expression. She would rise again. She would continue to live her life, and no one was going to stop her. Especially him. That was the lioness he knew of. The only evidence of her hurt was the tiny teardrops prickling in her eyes, which he could see only because of the morning sun rays peeking in through the gaps in the curtains. She never cried.

“No,” he breathed, swiftly exiting through the door before she could see the tears that had traitorously fallen onto his cheeks.

part 2 here!

[queen-haq]

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 9

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 9

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Rating: R for language.

Words: ~2000 words.

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost...

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5   Part 6   Part 7   Part 8

Part 9

The smile on your face was stiff and insincere as Marcus Boyd walked you back to your car. As much as you loathed the asshole, you needed him and that meant paying him a personal visit in his home in Connecticut. He was a very successful defense lawyer, on his way to becoming a managing partner in a prestigious New York law firm in a few years. Because of his career, he had access to many seedy characters which is what you were here to leverage. You needed an unregistered gun, and he had connections who could provide you one. If that meant putting up with him for an hour, you were willing to do it.

“Y/N,” he said with a slick smile, standing next to you as you unlocked your car door. “It was wonderful to see you again.”

“No, it wasn’t,” you replied. “It never is. But we do what we have to, right?”

His eyes narrowed, shifting to something menacing. “I forgot how tactless you can be.”

You gave him a mocking smile. “Here’s hoping you won’t have to see me again soon.”

“Next time you need something, don’t come to me,” he warned.

“Same goes for you.” You leveled him with a cold look. “When can I expect a call?”

“A few days.”

“Fine.” You got into your car and shut the door, feeling relieved at no longer being around the slimy bastard.

Marcus was someone you met at college in your first year. He was a rich entitled sophomore, about to flunk out. You were good at hacking into things, and had managed to get your hands on a few exams Marcus desperately needed to pass. That was the beginning of your partnership with him. You helped him graduate and he paid you a lot of money in return. Thanks to him and his friends, you were able to get your degree with minimal student loans. Although the two of you despised each other, the threat of mutual destruction meant you trusted him to keep your search for a registered gun to himself and he trusted you not to spill his secrets.

You started driving back into the city, your mind focused on the road ahead when your phone pinged. You glanced down. An unknown number was calling you. If it was like the other anonymous calls you received, they would call you a fucking bitch as soon as you picked up and hang up on you. You had no doubt that it was Adam calling, considering the calls started after he was released, which only proved how unhinged he was. A smarter man would have been on his best behaviour when out on bail but he was so filled with rage he didn’t even bother to temper his actions. You had already reached out to the prosecutor and informed them of the calls, but you doubted it would lead to anything. Most likely Adam was using disposable phones, which meant there was no direct proof he was the one making the calls. You were scared, of course you were, which was why you’d reached out to Marcus even though you didn’t like the prick. It’s not like you could rely on Trevor, the bodyguard Roger had assigned to keep you safe. He was lazy and not very bright, and even if he was good at what he did Valiant wouldn’t be paying for your protection indefinitely. All of that meant you had to take this matter into your own hands. It wasn’t going to be easy, but it was the only way for you to feel safe again.

Your thoughts turned to Billy, something you actively tried to avoid, but there wasn’t anything else to distract your mind away from him. It had been a week since you blocked him, and as much as you hated to admit it, you missed him. He’d been a part of your life for almost a year and you really enjoyed his company before things got messy between you two. If you hadn’t developed feelings for him and then caught him on a date with Dinah Madani, you guys would probably still be sleeping together – but you did, and seeing him with someone like her made it crystal clear his lack of feelings for you. The truth hurt like hell, but you’d get over it. You were a realist after all. You knew he was out of your league and there was nothing you could do to make Billy want you.

The speaker on your car piped up with a message notification. It was a text from Davina, reminding you of the girls night out planned for tomorrow night. It was a mutual friend’s birthday and the plan was for all of you to go to a new club that recently opened. You were looking forward to it, mostly as it would keep your mind off Adam but also because you were hoping to go out and meet someone new. No doubt Billy had already found someone else to fill your spot on his weekly rotation but you weren’t built like him and needed time to process your lingering feelings. You still weren’t over him, but you were ready to move on.

Now you just needed to get back home and come up with a reason as to how you lost your bodyguard in case Roger asked. Somehow, though, you doubted Trevor would willingly tell Roger about you disappearing for a few hours so you weren’t too worried. No one knew about your connection with Marcus and you intended to keep it that way.

***

The next evening you, Davina, and a few others were at Pravda, a new club downtown, to celebrate your friend Kiran’s birthday. You were wearing a low-cut black jumpsuit paired with silver stilettos, while your lips were painted maroon. Choosing to keep focus on the lips, you had ensured the rest of your make-up was light and dewy which went well with your straightened hair. It had taken a lot of double-sided tape to make sure your breasts were in check in your outfit but it was worth the effort. You felt like a proper goddess tonight, surrounded by your beautiful friends at a private table in the VIP lounge.

An hour later you were buzzed, giggling and laughing as you and a few others headed back to the private booth from the dance floor. After dancing up a storm, you guys were all parched and desperate for a drink. Davina was holding your hand as she led you through the crowds but you knew something was wrong when she stopped unexpectedly. You thought you heard her swear but you couldn’t be sure due to the loud music.

“What’s-” The words died in your mouth when you realized what Davina was staring at. Billy fucking Russo, sitting at your table, chatting it up with Kiran who was sitting next to him. The moment you saw them, you felt red-hot anger flood over you. While Kiran was a good friend, she wasn’t someone you confided in. She had no idea you’d been sleeping with Billy so you didn’t blame her for flirting with him. But Billy, god you hated him! There was no way his showing up at the same club as you was a co-incidence, which meant he was purposely here to flirt with your friends. To hurt you.

“Want to leave?” Davina asked, looking at you with concern.

“No, it’s fine,” you replied in a clipped tone.

“Are you sure?”

“He’s here because he wants to piss me off.”

“I thought you said he was cool about the break-up.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Thought he was.”

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

You didn’t answer, instead taking the lead to walk past her. You returned to your seat across from where he and Kiran were sitting. Davina came to sit beside you. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach as his molten eyes trailed down to your breasts, lingering on you. Dressed in a simple grey t-shirt, designer no doubt, and a pair of black trousers and open leather jacket, he looked absolutely beautiful with his perfectly styled hair and trimmed beard.

“Hey guys, this is Billy,” Kiran greeted, eyeing him appreciatively. “He ordered us more champagne. Isn’t that so nice of him?”

On the table in front of you was an expensive bottle, chilling in ice. You quirked your eyebrow. Apparently Billy was in the mood to splurge on your friends. “That’s nice of him,” you remarked noncommittally.

“Billy, this is Davina and Y/N,” Kiran said.

His eyes were locked with yours, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Oh, I know Y/N very well.”

Kiran turned to look at you. “You do?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Through work.”

Billy leaned forward, his smoldering gaze holding you hostage. “Y/N and I are very good friends.”

“Acquaintances,” you corrected.

As if sensing the tension in the air, Kiran pulled away from Billy. Meanwhile, he picked up the bottle of champagne and started pouring the liquid in the empty glasses in front of him. “You’re giving Kiran the wrong idea about us, Y/N. She might think you don’t like me very much.”

“She’d be right,” you snarked, ignoring the glass of champagne he held out for you.

“I’ll take that,” Davina replied, snatching the glass from his hands.

Your friends were suddenly talking all at once but all you could focus on was Billy’s heated gaze on you. With every second that passed his eyes on you seemed to grow more wanton and lustful, and desire coursed through your blood at how he looked at you. You wanted him so badly you cold feel yourself getting wet, and you realized you needed to get out of there right away.

“I’m going to get a drink,” you whispered in Davina’s ear, making sure Billy didn’t hear you.

“Want me to come with you?”

“No. I’ll be fine.” You stood up quickly and made your way out of there, keenly aware of Billy’s eyes boring into your back.

Few minutes later you were sitting at one of the corner bar downstairs. This floor had a different ambience than the club upstairs, which you appreciated. The music wasn’t as loud and you found yourself enjoying the lounge vibe. It wasn’t long before someone crept up next to you at the bar and you turned to find a familiar face smiling back at you.

His name was Avi and you’d run into him a few times at the conferences you’d gone to. Broad-shouldered and husky, you’d always found him attractive in an adorable way.

“You just look…” he gave you a shy smile. “Wow.”

Seeing his reaction to you, you smiled. “Thank you.”

“I’ve always wanted to approach you but I didn’t want to come across as a creep, you know?” he explained. “You can also be very intimidating.”

That made you laugh. “I doubt that.”

As Avi and you continued to talk, you couldn’t help but enjoy how he was gawking at you. You didn’t fit society’s mould for what was considered beautiful, so all of your past flings were a result of the guys getting to know you and finding you hot because of your personality. It was rare when a guy you were attracted to was also into you right away but that seemed to be the case with Avi. You didn’t have to charm or work for him to find you hot. Instead, he was genuinely enamored with how you looked which was refreshing.

His phone rang with a text notification. Scanning through the message, he flashed you an apologetic glance. “Shit. I have to go.”

Disappointed, you pouted your lips. “That’s too bad.”

“Would you want to go out sometime?” he asked shyly.

“I’d like that.” You reached for your phone and scrolled through to the contacts app to add his name before handing the phone to him. “Add your number.”

After you said your goodbyes, you ordered your third gin and tonic and were enjoying your drink at the bar when someone grazed up against you. Seated on a high bar stool, you were expecting Davina to have come looking for you. Instead, you found Billy sidling up to you. He looked pissed off and angrier than you’d ever seen him.  

“Give me your phone,” he barked.

“Go to hell.”

Unexpectedly he gripped your stool and pulled you closer, throwing you off so you were forced to hold on to him for regain your balance. He perched his foot up on the bottom ledge of the stool, closing you in fully. “Unblock me now.”

‘Go fuck yourself.”

His dark eyes seemed to suddenly grow even darker, more monster than human. “Who was that guy you were talking to?”

“My future boyfriend.”

Billy’s lips curved into a sneer. “Not if he knows what’s good for him.”

“Why don’t you go back to flirting with my friend and leave me the fuck alone?”

“She was flirting. I wasn’t.”

“I don’t care. Go sleep with whoever you want, and I’ll do the same.”

Billy simply stared at you for a beat, his jaw clenched. “You’re not fucking anyone else.”

Sitting up straight, you leveled him with a hostile look. “I just met someone who was nice, sweet, and really fucking cute. And he wasn’t an asshole like you. Trust me, I will fuck him. I might even suck him off here tonight if he plays his cards right. And there isn’t a single thing you can do to stop that.”

He dipped his head towards you, leaning in closer so you were the only one who could hear him. His voice may have been flat, but his words were laced with cold fury when he spoke next. “If he touches you, he’s dead. I’ll start with his hands. I’ll break his fingers one by one for daring to touch you. Next I’ll cut off his dick, his balls, other parts of him slowly, carefully, so he feels every inch of the excruciating pain I’ll put him through. I’ll fill him with adrenaline so he doesn’t pass out from the pain. I’ll gouge out his eyes last because he needs to see that I’m the one who turned him into a mutilated lump of flesh. And then maybe, if I’m feeling nice, I might slit his throat to end his suffering.” His eyes never leaving yours, he reached for your drink at the bar and chugged it.

“You’re a fucking psychopath,” you said, your throat suddenly parched. Your heart was beating rapidly, your stomach coiled into knots. Fear should have flooded over you -  it didn’t. Instead, you were aroused.

“No one takes what’s mine.”

“I’m not your fucking possession. You don’t own me.” You closed your eyes, taking deep breaths as your emotions – and the walls – started to all swirl together. Like always, just when you thought he might have cared enough to admit he was jealous, he showed his true colours. Billy’s anger had nothing to do with his feelings for you. Rather, it was about his ego. Shit. You felt dizzy, the drinks had started to hit you. “Why don’t you go bother Dinah and her new man? Didn’t you say she was seeing someone else? Go pull your psychopath routine on them.”

He tucked his finger under your chin, lifting your face up to meet his gaze again. The emotions in his eyes played havoc with your senses as he pressed in closer, so close you could feel his warm breath on your skin.

“I don’t care who Dinah dates or fucks.”

The air was thick with tension.  It felt as if there was no one else in the bar but you and Billy, his one hand under your chin, the other pressed against the small of your back. You felt heady and light-headed with anticipation and desire, but you were also angry. Angry that you still wanted him, that he wouldn’t give you space to get over him. “Why can’t you leave me alone?”

His fingers gripped the side of your face, and you exhaled a sharp breath when he grazed your forehead with his. Temples touching, his eyes held you transfixed in place.  “Because you’re mine.” The possessiveness in his voice was unsettling, but it was the way he was staring at you – as if he could see right through to your core – that made your stomach flip-flop. “Mine.” His thumb swiped along your bottom lip, as if marking you as his. “And I’m yours.”

Billy was a player, an asshole, and there was comfort in that because it meant you knew where you stood with him, but now he was defying expectations, crossing the boundaries you’d carefully set for yourself, and you weren’t ready for that. None of that mattered, however, because you were suddenly feeling really, really sick.  “I have to go,” you mumbled. The room was spinning as you tried to jump off the chair but your knees almost gave way. Billy was there to catch you in his arms, holding you up.

“Woah, you okay?”

You pushed him off and ran.

Part 10

A/N - As always, thank you for the support, the feedback, the likes/reblogs, and the asks. I’m stoked to keep writing this because of you guys. Please let me know your thoughts on the chapter!

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gif-credit: @the-darkling

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

aita for ghosting my boss after involuntarily quitting?

so this is pretty low stakes because it all happened like two years ago and i’ve never spoken to or even seen the other party since. i just remembered this story and wanted to see what strangers on the internet have to say about it.

i got my first job at the local equivalent of an auntie anne’s at the mall food court when i was 15. socially, i was an absolute mess back then, probably worsened by the fact that this was right after covid quarantines were lifted for the first time. i had to really prepare myself up to talk to my boss about simple things like to ask for time off. i’ve since gotten better at communication, i hope, anyway.

about two months into working here, i saw that i had been assigned a shift on my birthday, this was around a week before my birthday. it was a weekend shift so it was essentially all day. i asked around a little on whatsapp dms with other people in the group to see if i could swap with anybody, but no one could.

i was a little bummed but i thought, what the hell, it’s fine. it’s my bad for not asking for the day off earlier before the schedule was made, and many people worked on their birthday anyway.

but my dad didn’t want me working on my birthday at all. he had wanted to celebrate together by going out to a restaurant with everyone or something. when i told him that i had an 8 hour shift that day, he wanted me to ask my boss in person to “do something about it” so that i could be off.

he said that, from his perspective, it was my boss’s responsibility to find someone to replace my shift, not mine. he may have had a point, but: 1) i had not asked for this day off ahead of time; if i had done that, my boss *would* have found someone else to schedule, 2) at this point, this was literally the day before the shift in question, and 3) i personally didn’t even have any objections with working on my birthday anyway. my dad just wanted to be able to celebrate with me and said that it was wrong for me to work in my birthday.

anyway i had a shift the day before my birthday, and as asked to by my dad, i verbally asked my boss if she could make an exception and let me have a day off because it was important to my family (this terrified me lmao). she was nice about it, but said no because it was a religious holiday for her family, and it was a busy weekend for the mall, so she really needed the help. personally i thought this was reasonable agreed to just work the next day.

when i told my dad however, he personally went to go speak to my boss which basically devolved into a loud argument in the middle of the darkened, closed up food court of the mall at 9 pm. i was bewildered and felt like shit the whole time, and i don’t remember clearly how it ended, but at some point my boss ended up leaving and then so did we.

it was never cleared up whether she expected me to come to work the next day or not. either way, i didn’t, and we did end up celebrating my birthday and everything.

this next part is where i think i acted like TA. once again i don’t remember the details exactly, but either i stopped getting scheduled and was kicked from the whatsapp group, or i left by myself at some point.

i know that’s a pretty big distinction to forget, but either way i completely ghosted them after this out of sheer embarrassment over what had happened. i never reached out to formally end my employment. i avoided the auntie anne’s every time i was at the mall. i never returned my uniform, because i didn’t see the message from my boss asking for it back until months after. that was the last time she’s ever had communication with me.

so yeah. aita for the circumstances that lead me to involuntarily quit/get fired at my first job, and aita for ignoring my boss afterwards?

What are these acronyms?

[superhero--imagines]

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here! / Part 3 Here! / Part 4 Here! / Part 5 Here! / Part 6 Here! / Part 7 Here! / Part 8 Here! / Part 9 Here! / Part 10 Here! / Part 11 Here! / Part 12 Here! / Part 13 Here! / Part 14 Here! / Part 15 Here! / Part 16 Here! / Part 17 Here! / Part 18 Here! / Part 19 Here!/ Part 20 Here! His POV Part 1! Here /  His POV Part 2 Here!  / Part 21 Here! < This is Part 22!>

Donate to Move to Higher Ground HERE!

Commission Info For Love Letters Here!

A/N: This has some NSFW themes, so if you’re under 18 don’t interact. 

Also the Tag list is closed, I think this is about how many people can add for this. An alternative is to follow and turn on post notifications. 

Um.. I guess this will be going on hiatus for a few weeks. I’m just busy at work, and I’m kind of out of ideas, also low engagement in the last few parts has made me feel a little discouraged.

That being said- if you order a letter with a twilight character, I’ll probably end up giving a hint for some things that will happen in the series. So if you are on the fence about getting a letter- or you just really can’t stand to wait, there’s always that option haha. 

 Anyway hope you like it ~

* “(Y/N).... what are you doing?”

* Muffled noise escapes you as you dig yourself deeper , drowning in his scent

* “(Y/N)”

* Your name leaves in a whisper and a smile curls onto his mouth

* “I mean how can you even see the television from that angle” he mumbles

* You sigh, your breath fanning across the lilac shirt he wore, you’re head firmly nestled in his back

* You’re in his room, lying beside him on his bed, essentially spooning him. The movie flickers on in front of you, you’re only half way through the first Harry Potter movie right now

* Honestly you’ve wanted to snuggle into Edward’s back for a while now, ever since you did it right before you both kissed for the first time

* It just feels so warm and safe here

* “I can hear it just fine” you mumble back. You feel the muscles in his back ripple as he shifts, your arm slinging over his chest.

* His hand covers your own. His hands so big it almost entirely envelops your own. And you can’t help but imagine what that hand would feel like in other places

* Tangled in your hair, trailing up and down your sides, under your shirt, dipping beneath the waist band of your shorts-

* Nope nope nope

* Gotta keep it PG 13

* He wants to go slow after all. Or at least you think he does. But well, you thought he might want to be with Bella

* And that was wrong

* Ugh, you want to pull out your own hair. how easy would it be if he could just read your mind and let you know-

* No it doesn’t work like that

* You sigh

* You have to put the work in if you want to make this work

* You have to communicate

* You stir besides him, wiggling you hand out of his and tapping the hard muscle of his abs

* Ugh, of course he’s chiseled like a statue

* Wait you’re a vampire, you tap your own stomach. It feels like a hard slab

* Well damn

* “Hm?”

* “We need to talk”

* “About what?” He asks absentmindedly, eyes never straying from the television.

* He must really like Harry Potter.

* “About sex.”

* He shoots right up. The remote falling to the ground with a clatter

* “Ah sorry, let me get that” he mumbles, climbing out of the bed to pick up the remote and put the movie on pause

* He clears his throat, sitting on the edge of the bed, a whole 5 feet away from you

* “So what did you want to talk about, again?”

* He seems so awkward, maybe you were right, maybe he does want to go slow

* But then what was with that “I’m not waiting for marriage” crap?”

* “I want to be physically intimate with you” you say bluntly

* Why did you say it like that? Like you’re some kind of scientist or something?

* *internal cringe*

* Not that he seems to care

* Edward’s grinning

* “Are you seducing me right now?”

* You’re not sure why but that smile annoys you

* You scoff

* “I’m trying to find out where you’re at, sexually speaking”

* He looks at the ground for several long seconds before finally meeting your eyes

* “So I um-“

* Okay you’re finally getting somewhere

* “I guess I have this kink where I like being called-“

* “No Edward not that!”

* You’re a little annoyed,

* But also a little turned on

* You’ll have to put a pin in that,

* oh boy, Edward with a kink.

* It’s probably something super vanilla like a praise kink

* or something cheesy like a daddy kink

* Like what are you, sixteen-

* Well, he technically is but-

* You’re getting off track

* “Do you-“

* how do you say this?

* “Do you want to have sex with me?”

* And it would sound like your propositioning him if you hadn’t emphasized the ‘want’

* You know he’s on the asexuality spectrum, maybe he just doesn’t feel like that for you

* You know he loves you a lot

* And wether or not he wants to have sex won’t change the way you feel about him,

* But knowing will help you manage your expectations

* “Why...why would you think that I don’t?”

* He looks almost hurt as he says it

* “We’ve been dating for two months and you haven’t made a move”

* Not after he said that thing about ‘Not waiting for Marriage’™

* You feel his hand cover your own, he’s still a heathy distance away from you

* But even just the touch of his hand on yours sends a shiver down your spine

* “How could you ever think I don’t-“ he cuts himself off

* His free hand moves to cradle your face, brushing hair away in that way he’s always done

* You sigh leaning into his touch

* “You’re so beautiful...so lovely.. of course I want to be closer to you in whatever way I can” his words leave breathlessly, and you can see he wants you just as bad as you want him

* “Then why-“

* “You live in my house,” he stresses. “You’re surrounded by my family, who haven’t been very subtle with how pleased they would be for you to join the family. We are literally never away from each other”

* “Do you want me to move back to Denali?” You joke and he laughs, amber eyes warm as he looks into yours.

* “I just don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable... or suffocated.” He squeezes your hand

* “I don’t want to make you feel like you have to do anything you don’t want to, for me.. or anyone else.”

* So he’s been trying to be considerate of you

* And of the living situation

* Isn’t that just so like him?

* You feel a small smile stretch across your lips, your hand threading into his hair

* “I don’t ever feel uncomfortable, not around you.”

* And it’s true, you trust him completely.

* You know he’ll never hurt you, never

* You foreheads are pressed together, and it’s only a small shift to catch his lips in your own

* Your hand escapes from his and trails to his face, your hands tipping his head back to get a better angle

* He feels so good like this

* He would feel so good underneath you, begging you to go just a little further

* “Now I’m propositioning you” you feel a small breathless chuckle escape him

* “There’s ... another reason I haven’t brought it up” he mumbles

* You hold your breath- he doesn’t have that bubbling desire does he?

* You were right, he-

* “If we did it in the house everyone would know”

* Huh?

* Noticing your confused expression he clarifies

* “Everyone would hear it happen, and everyone would know”

* Oh

* So all this times you’ve kissed-

* And that time in the car -

* Everyone knew?

* You groan covering your face in your hands, how will you ever be able to face Carlisle again?

* “Emmett would have bought us a cookie cake-“

* You raise an eyebrow and he falters

* “He would have bought me a cookie cake...it would say ‘bye bye virginity’ in pink icing” he whispers

* And you laugh

* “That’s so wasteful”

* No doubt Edward would be too embarrassed to let their humans friends eat it - which you don’t blame him for

* “Alright I’ll try to keep my dirty fantasies to a minimum” you laugh when he tugs you into his lap

* “Oh what kind of fantasies?” There’s that teasing boyish grin again

* “Please enlighten me”

* Well, it’s only right to tease him a little after all those hours you’ve spent mulling over what ‘I’m not waiting for marriage’ could mean

* “Well they all start off with a kiss, a good kiss, the kind that makes you feel like you’re just going to melt-“

* You rest your head against his shoulder, whispering into his ear

* “And then when it’s over, one of your hands is under my shirt,”

* you gently trace up his back and he shivers

* “and both of mine are under yours”

* “And then?” His voice is low, but he doesn’t dare to look at you

* You really shouldn’t tease him this much...

* but it’s so fun

* “We kiss again, my hands tracing over every inch of you, and when we stop I unbutton your shirt, trailing kisses down your neck”

* You trail a cold finger down the side of his neck

* He lets out a low sound, akin to a whine

* “And then I’ll suck here” your finger presses lightly into the hollow of his neck before repeating the process on his collarbone “and here”

* “You look so pretty with your neck marked up with hickeys, like poppy’s blooming in snow”

* You can tell he likes it by the shiver and whine

* So he likes that sensual shit huh

* You wonder what else he likes

* “And you look so pretty Edward, breathless, with that hungry needy look in your eyes just for me”

* Your hand trails down to his chest, and he trembles as your hand moves across his stomach. Resting on his lower abdomen

* His breath hitches, teeth digging into hi plush pink lip. He’s so needy, your finger trails in absentminded circles, and you swear he whimpers

* Aw so cute

* “And that’s about it” you say bluntly patting his stomach twice before moving to get off of him

* His eyes shoot open, a frown arching onto his mouth

* You hold back a laugh

* before you can fully get off of his lap he tugs you back to him

* “I see what you’re doing” he tried to pretend to be stern but you a smile twitching at the end of his lips

* “I don’t know what you mean. That’s just where the fantasy ends” you say as innocently as possible which only makes him grin

* “I’m sorry, I know I’ve been teasing you too much”

* “Hmm have you been?” You mock confusion and he laughs again, kissing the spot where your neck and shoulder meet

* “I’m sorry I got your hopes up”

* You scoff

* “My hopes weren’t up-“ Edward tilts your head towards him and you avert your eyes

* Okay they were a little high

* He pulls you into another kiss, soft and gentle

* “I promise I’ll make all your fantasies come true soon.”

* He already has, how many dreams that you never thought you would be able to have has he made come true?

* God, you adore this boy

* “But until then you’re going to have to leave”

* Scratch that

* “W-what?!”

* What did you do something to turn him off in the last .05 seconds?

* “It’s nothing personal-“

* You’re taking this very personally

* “I just need some time alone, and maybe a cold shower”

* Oh

* O H

* “R-right, well I’ll leave you to that” you mumble, clearing your throat as you move away from him, only briefly stopping on your way out

* “I’m going to take a few of these okay?” You say grabbing the other two Harry Potter movies

* You don’t wait for him to respond, leaving the room and heading to your own

* You run into Emmett who sends you a mischievous grin

* “Hey (Y/N), what were you-“

* “Nothing you would need to a buy a cookie cake for” you say, sliding into your room

* You look down at the DVD’s

* Why did you take these? You don’t even have a TV in your room

* Meanwhile Emmett’s still in the hallway

* “How did they know I was going to get him a cookie cake?”

* .

* ..

* ...

* You’re not sure where you are at first

* It’s foggy burst of green and brown

* And then you see him

* It’s Edward

* You breathe a sigh of relief moving towards him, as long as he’s here you’re okay

* “I’m sorry-“ you stop in your tracks

* there’s someone else there, clinging to his side

* “You were right- I do love her” He says and you’re confused

* The most faded and its Bella her wide brown eyes narrowed into a glare

* “Did you think you could just steal my future away from me?” She spats at you like her words are venom

* No- of course you never meant to take her place

* But you always hoped to- didn’t you?

* The intrusive voice causes a shiver to erupt down your spine

* You walk back, feet tangling into one another

* No that’s not right, Edward loves you- this isn’t right

* That’s when you bump into something hard- immovable

* You turn to see someone else entirely

* They’re wearing a black and red cloak

* Someone from the Volturi

* You gulp hard.

* So they’ve come for you have they

* The figure moves to remove the hood of their cloak, and you feel a gasp escape you.

* It’s you

* Only your face seems...sharper somehow, even more beautiful. But in an unnatural way, devoid of humanity

* Your eyes are as red as rubies

* You fall back, your foot getting caught in a tree root

* The Volturi-you sighs, crouching down so their impassive eyes can meet yours

* “You’ve really got to get over that whole timeline” their voice is different too, an air of disappointment ringing in every word. They sound bored

* You can’t manage to string together a single thought, let alone any words

* “Well don’t look so scared. I’m here to help you know” but their smile is cruel

* “Unless you can snap out of that lovesick dream of yours and finish what you started, this is the future that’s waiting for you”

* “That’s not true”

* Carlisle saved you, Eleazer took you in, Edward gave you a new future.

* You’re never going back to the Volturi

* But the you clad in the black and red robe’s smile only grows wider

* “It’s not true for now, but how many more years do you think you can handle until you get bored?”

* “Another 20? Let’s say 50 for good measure- then what?”

* You feel like a cold finger runs down your spine, your hair standing on end

* “I think you know exactly what” the cloaked you says, their eyes are serious now as they look at you

* “You need to finish what you started-“

* Finish what? What are they talking about? What did you start?

* Noticing your confusion they sigh

* “You need to stop focusing so much on what happened in the story, and start thinking about what happened after the story”

* After the story?

* Like after Edward and Bella had Their baby?

* “Now wake up”

* The words echo in your head until you fly upright, breathing hard as you take in the space around you

* For a second you’re not sure where you are

* This is your room, at the Cullen’s house in Forks

* You’re fine

* You’re safe

* You try to regulate your breathing, attempting to calm your mind with it

* It was just a nightmare. Not that you ever remember falling asleep to begin with

* “I didn’t think I could fall asleep anymore” you whisper

* You pretend to sleep, because it feels good. But you’ve never lost yourself like that before

* It felt so real

* “Finish what I started? And then after the story-“ You feel the hair on the back of your neck stand on end

* There was something- something you had tried a long, long time ago-

* Back when you still lived in Denali

* An idea you had come across once- after Edward told you how painful it was for him to turn

* But how would you even go about proving something like that?

* And what’s what might have happened after the book series got to do with any of this?

* You sigh, your head in your arms. It was just a dream wasn’t it? A nightmare from your insecurities?

* If you just whispered his name, Edward would be beside you, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, erasing all your worries

* “ Unless you can snap out of that lovesick dream of yours and finish what you started, this is the future that’s waiting for you”

* You gulp

* You don’t need Edward to coddle you through every little nightmare, you decide

* Turning in your bed, closing you eyes and hoping to dream a more pleasant dream this time But you don’t dream at all, tossing and turning until light filters in through the blinds

Tags:  @moonlights27 @thebluetint @the100thtwilight @awesomebooklover17 @oneofthepotterheads @smileygirl08 @imdoingathingmom @iconicgguk @yrawn @alyciaswhore @little-horror-show @wicked-watering-can @lazydreamers @ xxxmuxxx @ideas-for-you-to-adopt @poisoinedhope @maryleigh8796 @moose-squirrel-asstiel @hotmessgoodness @jaimewho @corabmarie @what-am-i-doing10 @alluring-venus @imdoingathingmom @anotheryooniverse @im-tired-not-sleepy @emmettcullenisahimbo @my-super-musical-life @smolvampiregirl @it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream @mihikaahujaaa @werewolflover3252 @teenagezombiekryptonite @shynz @reclusive-chicken-nugget @monkeyluver4546 @wonhomarshmallow @bwbatta @bubblyabs @thatwaspossesion @helzerat @parascape @ xxxmuxxx @katrodriguez99 @leilanixx

[lemonjoonah]

Wrapped Together (M)

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

| Secret Santa Collab | My Masterlist |

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

...

-5 Weeks Until Christmas-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

-Less than 3 Weeks Until Christmas-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you been doing this long?”

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

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

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

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

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

“So we're in the same boat?” 

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

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

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

“Yes, thank you so much!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, they don’t!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

“Even the gift cards?”

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

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

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

“You’d be willing to show me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That I could drive?”

You nod giving him a sheepish grin this time. 

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

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

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

“I’m used to it.”

“Do you like it there?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

“Hey, how was work?” He asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

-2 Weeks Until Christmas-

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

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

“I’ll be fine.”

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

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

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

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

“What was that about?”

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

“Did she give you her phone number?”

Namjoon nods looking down with guilt. 

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

“What? No, of course not.”

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

“No girlfriend.” Namjoon mutters.

“Boyfriend?” 

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

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

...

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

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

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

“Buying art for the museum are you?”

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

“Not because you would love a drive?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

KNJ: Are you awake? 

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

YN: Yeah, everything okay?

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

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

YN: They’re chestnuts.

KNJ: Chestnuts? 🤔

YN: Palatable only when thoroughly roasted. 🔥🔥🔥

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

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

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

“And let me guess, a prince?”

“You know it?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I suppose you are pretty perfect.”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

“Fuck... yeah, did I wake you?” 

“It’s fine, sorry I fell asleep.”

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

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

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

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

“Eleven okay with you?” 

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A win-win.” 

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

“Which do you prefer more?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I help?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shit.” Namjoon mutters under his breath.

“What, what happens now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really? You would do that?”

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

“What are you doing-”

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

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

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

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

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

“You okay?”

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

“You make it sound so easy.” 

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

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

“Why not?!” Namjoon asks in alarm. 

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

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

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

...

-1.5 Weeks Until Christmas-

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

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

“No, not at all.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I can’t even begin to thank you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

-2 Days Until Christmas-

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

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

The phone on your bedside vibrates with a new message.

KNJ: Just pulling in.

YN: Be right down.

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

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

“You wrap up nice.” Namjoon jokes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Valerie...” Eric growls. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, does she- do they-”

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

“Why would he be cautious?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Find any new prodigies?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You pull your hand free and race to the exit.  

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

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

“Not without you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How-How do you know about that?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

-Christmas Eve- 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s the holiday sea-”

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Now is not the time.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about all the supplies?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

-One Year Ago-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But we have plenty.”

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

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

“Of course. Any preference on paper?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m glad I could help.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

“Then the museum exhibit-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

“Did you make these?”

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

“I’m glad she did.”

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

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

“Beer okay?”

“Perfect.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They’re like the snowflakes-”

“A paper thin plot full of holes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I want that too. I want you.” 

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

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

“I do, but I also want to last.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[imaginesntingz]

Imagine Gaara comforting you when the depression and anxiety hit

Trigger Warnings: Depression, Anxiety, Swearing(?)

A/N: Hey y’all! This is my first post on this blog. I hope you all enjoy it <3 Please don’t copy any of my works. It’s all originally written and I put a lot of time and effort into my pieces. Please ask me before reposting.

————————-

You were curled up in bed staring into nothingness. The past week or two you’ve tried to keep it at bay, but you felt the ever lingering depression creeping its way in. Nothing in particular happened. It was just always there. There wasn’t a time you could remember it not being there. Sometimes it was muffled like background noise and other times the volume was turned up so loud it was the only thing you could hear. It was your constant companion following you like a shadow. And to top it all off, anxiety was right behind it. You thought about overthinking and overthought about thinking. Racing thoughts kept you up sometimes until the sun shone through the blinds.

Everyone wondered why you were so quiet at times, but they couldn’t hear the ass beating you were getting from your own mind that made it almost impossible to be in the present moment. Nor could you find the energy, the language, nor a fuck to give to even begin to explain the war going on inside you. Temari invited you out to what you thought would be a small kickback yesterday that ended up being a full blown party. Gaara, who was supposed to go with you, was inevitably called in for village business. You ended up socially tapped after just a few hours in. Although Temari was with you and you met up with some chill friends . . Although you were surrounded by people, you still felt completely alone. Although you heard the words coming out of their mouths, you couldn’t keep up with what they were saying. Although you were physically there, you weren’t there. You wanted so badly to just enjoy yourself like everyone else, but it was what it was. After pleading with your sister in law, you finally went home only to find that Gaara was still in the office. One final push that sent you

Spiraling

down

And there you were exhausted but painfully awake in the darkness of your shared room. You didn’t know how long you were lying there. There was no time, only the bottomless ocean that swallowed anything and everything you tried to drop into it. No amount of journaling, affirmations, meditation, prayer, movement, walking, entertainment, pet cuddling, food, water, medication, vitamins, herbs, epsom salt baths, incense, face masks or any of the methods you’ve tried felt tangible to you in that moment. What was the point when you didn’t even have the will to move? How could you think of going on a mission next week when you couldn’t guarantee you’d attempt to leave your room tomorrow? How were you going to take care of your hair if you couldn’t even braid, twist or put it up for the night? How could you call yourself a caring friend when you’re thinking about canceling the dinner you’ve already rescheduled twice?

“My love? Why are you still awake?”

Your husband’s soothing voice jolted you out of your inner dialogue. You hadn’t even heard him come in, too lost in the wall in front of you.

“ . . . Can’t sleep.”

You heard the sound of the door closing and hushed shuffling as he moved around the room. A few moments later, you felt his weight dip the mattress beside you. A warm arm wrapped around your middle, gently pulling you to his chest. His hand moved to intertwine with yours as he spooned you from behind.

“How did it go with Temari? Again I’m sorry I wasn’t able to go with you. I hope you had a good time.”

“It’s fine. It was fine.” you replied flatly.

Gaara caressed the back of your thumb with his own as silence filled the space between you. His lips met the skin of your shoulder and you felt your body gradually relax into his embrace. He was never one to push you when you weren’t ready to talk and always made you feel grounded back to earth with his very presence. Even amidst his many responsibilities as Kazekage, he always made sure to check in on you and provide whatever you may want or need. He would do anything for you if it meant you would feel loved, safe, balanced and happy. Gaara, sweet Gaara, was the love of your lifetimes and you, his. He knew you better than he knew himself and picked up on every detail. Your likes and dislikes. How you took your tea in the morning. Your sensitivities. Every expression. Your body language. The tone in your voice. The slightest change in your eyes. So it was no surprise that he picked up on the shift in your mood right away.

“(y/n) . . . Sweetheart, It’s alright if you don’t want to talk about it right now, but please know that I am here. I love you more than words can express. I am here to listen and support you in any way that I can. I always will be. You know that, right?”

And with that, you couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. Your body trembled as he maneuvered you to face him. He wrapped his arms firmly around you, cocooning you into the safety of his hold. You buried your face into his chest and the calming scent of earth and cinnamon enveloped your senses. Your tears and running nose wetted the shirt he wore, but he didn’t care. Soft kisses were pressed to the crown of your head as his fingers trailed up and down the length of your spine, occasionally drawing soothing circles. You turned your head to listen to the steady rhythm of his heart pressed against you before finally catching your breath to speak.

“I-I’m just so tired of fighting just to be okay all the time. I’ve been taking steps to take care of my mental health, but it still feels like it isn’t enough. It’s like one day I’m fine and a couple days later it feels like I’m back at square one. I just want to exist sometimes. No expectations. I don’t want to think. I don’t want to feel. I don’t want to do anything. I don’t want to be anything. I just want to be.”

He squeezed you gently at your words, pausing thoughtfully before responding.

“You once told me that your dream is to become the peace within and despite the chaos inside of you. The chaos all around us. You said that you wish to heal yourself and pass on healing to others. I know it is easy to lose sight of it when you’re in the midst of what feels like a never ending battle, but I wanted to remind you of it because I never want you to lose hope.”

Your eyes widened in shock and turned glassy as he continued on.

“You have brought me out of the depths of the greatest despair and have played a huge role in supporting me in healing from my past. Your love is medicine to my heart. There were times when I was lost that you reminded me to never lose sight of my dream. To never lose sight of what truly matters. Even in the most difficult times, you have always found hope where others have felt hopeless. That is one of the many reasons I love you. I am your husband, so let me be your strength when you are tired and feel you can’t go on because you are my strength, dear wife. We can get through this together. Remember that healing is a lifelong journey, not a destination. So take it one day at a time. Hour by hour or minute by minute if that’s what it takes. You’re so hard on yourself sometimes, but look how far you’ve come to be here. Right now. How much you’ve grown. I want you to know that I am so proud of you, sweetheart. I hope that you can come to be proud of your accomplishments too.”

A fresh wave of tears came over you, but for a completely different reason this time. You practically tackled your poor mans onto his back and your lips met in an intense yet equally loving kiss. His hands worshipped the expanse of your hips and time fell away. Vibrations hummed throughout your body as you pulled back to look into those seafoam green eyes. His red hair and pale complexion highlighted by the light of the moon peeking through the window. He was ethereal.

“I love you, Gaara. So much. I am so happy that you exist. Honestly when you speak so openly and directly like that I feel like my heart is gonna burst through my chest . . . fuckkkk. In a good way though! But seriously, thank you for being you. I never thought I’d be able to say this to someone without fear, but . . when I am with you, I know that I am home. You are my home, love. ”

His eyes softened before a huge grin spread across his now blushing features. Gaara didn’t smile often, but when he did it was a sight to behold. It was like feeling the warmth of a sunrise for the first time. An all encompassing glow.

He sat up and cupped both of your cheeks in his hands, tears now mirroring your own. “I couldn’t have put it better myself. Do you know how beautiful you are? Truly? Your beauty radiates from the inside out. Honestly, what have I done to deserve you?”

“Sir, have you taken a good look at yourself lately? That’s my line. Fight me. Right now.” you deadpanned playfully.

A look of genuine concern crossed over his face. His hands settled on your waist and his posture noticeably drooped.

“(y/n), I would never fight you.”

“ . . . Gaara, I was just joking. I know you wouldn’t.”

“Sarcasm?”

“Mhm.”

“ . . . Right. I should have known. I’ll do better next time.” he sighed dejectedly.

Your body shook with laughter at your man’s adorably serious face. He’s always trying his best. Only Gaara could go from holding space through your tears of sadness, to making you cry from happiness, to having you doubled over with laughter within a matter of moments just by being authentically himself.

“I love you so fucking much, my sweet Gaara.”

“And I, you. My beautiful (y/n).”

You both slept soundly that night in a tangle of limbs, not knowing where one ended or the other began. Two, who together, are one.

[skzfelixity]

Being A Counter | The Uncanny Counter

Just moments and life with the counters because you deserve a non-blood related family like this one💕

You were the 4th one to join the squad, if you count Cheoljung out.

Your spirit guided you to eonni’s noodles and you were more than confused.

“Do I have to work at a restaurant?”, “Oh wait- you want me to eat, how thoughtful of you!”

“Just go inside!”

Your spirit was annoyed to say the least.

“We’re closed-”

They didn’t expect to see you so soon since their own spirits informed them about a new member an hour ago.

Ms Chu welcomed you with a warm hug, Hana with a nod and Motak kept eyeing you suspiciously.

“Does your spirit need glasses?”

Ms Chu glared at Motak’s remark about your spirit picking you.

Don’t take it personally, it’s literally Motak being Motak at first sight.

After some explaining of what the counters do, you were asked to join them and you didn’t hesitate to immediately accept.

Your instant response startled Ms Chu, earning a chuckle from Motak.

“What are you so surprised for? If she didn’t accept, she would die.”

“She might die doing this job too.”

It was literally a situation of instant death or possible death.

Let’s go with possible death for now.

Oh well, what’s cooler than saving people’s souls anyways?

All four of you grew closer mission after mission.

Even though Hana was still cold and distant, you found yourselves getting along pretty well. Training together almost every day.

Motak became like a father to you.

He no longer had this intimidating aura, from your point of view.

His mean remarks were more like ‘I care for you so I will tease you’

He cares deeply for all of you but he will never admit it out loud.

Ms Chu would always remind you to eat and stuff like that.

She was like a mother to you and it did radiate a sense of comfort.

She definitely acted like a mother but if you asked her, she would deny it saying she doesn’t care about you and then the next minute she will be asking you about your day etc.

Game nights !!!

Just imagine playing monopoly with them:

Motak going to jail for the 14th time, he was used to putting people in jail after all, whining about it until his turn comes again.

Always gets 5 when he rolls somehow.

“The dice is broken.”

Ms Chu with a lot of money, she definitely did not steal it from the bank when y’all weren’t looking, waving it like a fan in front of her face.

“Where did all this money come from?”

“My pocket?”

Hana laughing more frequently than she did before.

Overall spending time together apart from work was fun.

Strong bonds take time.

You did a pretty good job capturing spirits, maybe because of their low levels but still it wasn’t easy.

Like damn, you lost count of how many times Ms Chu treated your injuries.

Using her power also affected her health but she didn’t even let any of you go without treating even minor injuries.

Got to stop her once by saying, “We need a mom for the group.”

She at least knows you see her as a mother and that makes her beyond happy.

She wouldn’t hesitate to reduce her lifespan for all of you<3

One day you were all eating noodles when an idea popped in your head.

“Why don’t we wear matching clothes when we go on missions?”

No one seemed against it, Motak liking it a lot.

You did fight over the colour though:

You wanted red, he wanted grey.

You ended up getting both.

Soon enough, the day that you didn’t manage to catch an evil spirit came, following the death of Jang Cheoljung.

His spirit, Wigen, found another person to become a counter.

Aaaaand your 5th member joined you.

He wasn’t as quick as you to agree but what can you say? It was live or die for him.

So Mun, a high school boy living with his grandparents.

He didn’t seem promising at first but he proved his potential soon afterwards.

You had to save his ass because he was always in trouble. 

Episode 10 can’t happen, you kept him in check.

Time proved that something you missed in your bond was So Mun, the team felt complete with him.

He is the baby of the squad, everyone worries about him 24/7.

Sometimes you would just mess with him for absolutely no reason.

Car rides after a mission always go like:

“Can I rest my head on your shoulder?”

and So Mun falling asleep a few minutes later, with all his weight pressed on you.

You trying to stay comfortable while not touching Hana.

“Touch me and I will kill you.”

You heard it once and you both knew, you didn’t need to hear it again.

The sun is up after a mission? Ice cream.

Eat all you want Jangmul is paying.

The moon is up after a mission? Meat/Noodles.

Missions increased, introducing So Mun to the grey jackets and trousers.

I feel like red would still be his fave ones though.

“Oh Ms Chu, it matches with your hair!”

*smack* poor So Mun.

Working on the restaurant:

You, Hana & Mun serving while Motak and Ms Chu cooked.

Honestly? It was a mess.

Mun constantly dumping into either you or Hana, stepping on your feet from time to time.

Some customers being scared of Hana because of her face, choking on their food every time she passed by.

Zoning out while watching TV was a regular for you and Mun, it happened to Hana too though.

Ms Chu calling you three to take the bowls, no one knew she could yell that loud. Motak often joining you in serving just to not hear her getting ignored.

Whenever high school boys came to eat, you could feel Motak’s glare from inside the kitchen.

“So Mun, tell them to leave.”

Poor Ms Chu had to hear Motak complain about high school boys’ poor mannerisms.

He doesn’t want you around boys, you’re too young for that.

That one time you broke a table, oh man.

“Oops?”

Ms Chu was furious, Motak laughing at the customers’ faces.

Had to clean the huge mess, So Mun offering to help.

You and So Mun? Besties.

You went to school together every morning, same class.

You two, Ungmin and Juyeon spent almost every break together, eating snacks and making fun of each other.

Always made sure to hide you when Hyeoku was around, he just knew this certain bully had a crush on you.

One time, he noticed Hyeoku making his way to your table holding some sort of candy. He immediately dragged you away.

Ended up looking at a wall, Mun claiming he wanted to admire the red and brown bricks with you.

He just doesn’t want you around Hyeoku because he is dangerous, no other reason:)

Having dinner at his house? At least once a week.

His grandparents obviously adored you. His grandma being able to recognise and remember you, well most of the time.

His grandpa’s jokes about you two becoming a couple, never failed to make you smile. His grandma complimenting you with the sweetest grin on her face.

Sleepovers happened a lot, usually falling asleep while discussing about evil spirits and all.

Hana warmed up to the team more. She started seeing you and Mun as her younger siblings, always taking care of you and looking out for you in her own way.

You were all cleaning one day when Jangmul stormed into the store.

“What do you spend all this money on?!”

Long story short: Motak, You and So Mun were guilty for spending too much on your stomach needs.

“All this money for food?!”

He wasn’t that mad, he just thought y’all bought a house and didn’t tell him beforehand. Motak threw him a bag of chips to calm him down.

Yep, Jangmul ate them all.

“You want to eat the bag too?”

A lot of dancing, especially when in a good mood during shifts.

Of course So Mun tripped countless times, wdym.

You had each other’s backs, there was no reason to worry.

You were a family and the restaurant was your home.

[clarissalance]

Wolves

Pairing: Kaeya x fem!Reader, Diluc, Crepus

Warning: minor swearing, cheesy flirt, dry humour

Summary: All men are wolves.

A/N: Muahaha I have came back and brought you the blatant cheesy flirt. Welcome to the first lesson of flirting with Kaeya. Lol, guess who is coming next? 

Also, I’m planning to write a wind-trace fic because the game is so fun. (p/s: I waste 3 hours playing it) Guess who is in it? 

Okay, the first fic for my lover boy. Please give Kaeya a lot of love!! (*￣3￣)╭ 

Another beautiful day, another day of wasting the lovely weather to stay inside the study room, bury your head into the pile of books next to you. You let your eyes wander to the window again, gazing rays of light fleeting through the window, golden hues on the wooden floor. Tiny specks of dust accumulate overnight, fluttering around the curtain. Outside, the chirping birds bathing under the sun, casually chilling on the window. Oh, how you wish you would be able to relax like those carefree animals.  

“You might burn the birds crips the longer you stare at it.” Startled by the quiet voice, your head snaps toward the blue-haired teenage direction, and you can’t help but scowl at his statement. You can’t be the only person in the room who wants to go out and play. Knowing Kaeya, he’s definitely trying to find an excuse to end the class early. 

The only person who is diligent, hard-working, and does not have thought about leaving this room is the young master Diluc. The young man is sitting opposite you, eyes burning holes on the thick textbook. 

Archon, how can a 16 years old overly enthusiastic person like him enjoy the excitement of reading Descartes philosophy? Maybe he is the only child in Mondstadt, no, maybe in the whole Teyvat who enjoys something torturous like that. Shivering at your own thought, you shift your chair closer to Kaeya, giving Diluc a terror gaze.      

“Aren’t you going to finish the essay?” Pointing at the half-full parchment on the table, you ask. “ Diluc and I already finish it.” 

“ Oh, how do I know? How am I suppose to understand Kant and Descartes theories, and then link them to deductive and inductive reasoning?"  Kaeya lets his finger running through the silky blue hair and pulls them out of frustration. On the other side, Diluc shoots him a glare, annoyed by his brother complaint. 

 “How did you guys do it?” Kaeya asks boredly, his finger pokes the quill. 

You put your hand under your chin, beaming him charmingly.  “ You know Kaeya, it is something I call improvisation. Words just flow out of my tip.” Under your lashes, you can see his cheek dusting pink. Cute! 

“ Just read the books, and you will get it.” Diluc unhelpful adds. 

Both of you stare at red-head incredulously. Is he being serious? 

Like always, Kaeya knows he can not take your advice to heart. One is a genius, and the other is just pure luck.  

Suddenly, the door is burst open, and you quickly shove your feet into the shoes, eyes darting to see the intruder. Internally, you hope that person is not lady Elizabeth, your etiquette teacher. Your blood runs cold at the thought. You can already imagine her sharp tones commenting how horrendous and un-ladylike your act is. 

“How is your study going?” A deep, strong voice booming from the back, and finally, you get let out a breath. Diluc looks up from his book, beams brightly at the man. 

“ We are done with homework, father. These are just extra reading.” Well, for the record, these are his extra readings, not yours. And Kaeya hasn’t finished his 2 feet scrolls of essay yet. 

Master Crepus nods in satisfaction. “ If that is finished, you kids can take a break. The young lady from the Gunnhildr family is here with her father. Maybe you can give her some accompanies.”  The middle-aged man directs the words at you, maybe feeling guilty for leaving a young lady like you in his two sons care. 

Your parents left you in the Ragnvindr care every Summer because of their hectic schedules and frequent business trips at this time of the year. In addition, your mother says it is essential for you to have good relationships with the heir of Ragnvindr and his brother. “Maybe you will need their help someday.” She left it vaguely. 

“ Are you guys going to drink again?” Kaeya suspiciously questions, his eyes glinting with playfulness. 

“ Hey, what’s wrong with men having a drink together?” Crepus defensively retorts, notices how Diluc gives him a disproving gaze.

“ When you guys grow up, you would enjoy it too.” The three let out opposing noises, clearly not having the same idea as him. The man waves dismissively return back the topic. 

“ Let’s come down to greet the head of Gunnhildr first.” He heads toward the door, down the hallway.   

“And be nice to the young lady, boys.” The master emphasizes the phrase, his eyes pinning at the guilty-looking Kaeya and the absent-minded Diluc. Finally, he exits the room, not forgetting to close the door. 

“ Father says as if we don’t treat people nicely.” Kaeya pouts, right after Crepus footstep drifting away from the study. “ The workers never complain anything about our behaviours, right Luc?” 

Sitting next to him, you can't help but let out a snort. He dares to say that? Kaeya raises eyebrows at you, annoyed by your shaking shoulder. The boy in red has a blank face, maybe not interested. 

“ First, you guys ignore me for 2 weeks when I just came here.” You burst out in laughter, recalling back at the very first memory when you just arrived here.

“When I tried to approach, you both avoided me like the plague.” Your whole body is shaking vigorously, tears forming at the corners of your eyes. This is too hilarious! Somewhere in between, you can spot Diluc burning cheek. 

“ Haha, and haha-later,” You can hardly breath, laughter bubbling up. “Adeline told me your reason is ‘It's b-because she doesn’t have a willie.' ” Dramatically air-quoting, you even imitate their stuttering childish voices. This earns you a pointed glare from Diluc and a smack in the arm from Kaeya, but a good laugh is always worth it. 

Both of them freeze on their tracks, faces puff red as tomatoes, steaming almost coming off their ears. If the young heir is to wear a red suit, you are sure he can blend in well with the mansion roof. 

Diluc shifts stiffly in his chair and abruptly stands up, heading toward the exit. Maybe he is too embarrassed at the mention of his dark childhood. 

“Where-haha, are you going, Luc?” You are still in the middle of your giggling, noticing how Diluc is dashing to the door. Letting out a coughing fit, he quietly mumbles. 

 “ I'm going down to greet the Gunnhildr family.” His figure vanishes right behind the door, not letting you tease him further. Outside, the painful sound of Diluc tripping on his own feet make you almost fall off your chair. You have too many good laughs today. 

“Right, I-I should get going too.” Next to you, the blazing Kaeya remembers to dig a hole and hide. His hand slams hard on the table and the youthful teenager stands up, gracefully heading toward the door. Maybe he wants to avoid becoming another joke.  

" Ah, wait-" You follow instantly, but the moment you stand up, something slips, and the next thing you know, the ground is shaking, and you see the ceiling is getting further. 

Your first instinct is to grab the closest object, and then close your eyes, waiting for the painful impact with your head. Clench your jaw tightly, and you hold your breath, hoping it will hurt less if you tense your body. 

Right after tensing up, you feel someone just grab you by your shoulder, and your feet step on something bumpy. And then, your head makes an impact with something hard. A grunting is followed. 

Heart hammering in your chest, you cautiously peek, expecting yourself to see the ceiling, but instead, greet with an unusual sight. A pair of dark colour trouser paired with leather shoes. On top of it is your feet, loosely wore low heel is stepping on that leather shoes. Shit, you stepped on Kaeya. In a panic, you rush down from his painful sore feet, but your head jams in his ribs. He just let out another woeful sound.   

This time, you carefully keep your position in place, slowly remove each foot one by one, moving away from him. Craning your neck upward, you finally meet his gaze, his eyes are full of concern and uneasiness, spooked out by your sudden incident.

 “Did you hit your head hard?” Kaeya asks you nervously, his voice laced with anxiety. He must have been terrified when you slip. You shake your head, hands grabbing his shirt.

" I should be asking you that. Are you okay?" You give him a worrying gaze, your fingers running along his ribs, checking if your stone head broke anything. " I didn't break anything, right?" Hesitantly, you look into his deep blue eyes, noticing the diamond shape. Has he always has this in his eyes? 

Kaeya snorts inelegantly, shakes his head. " Your head is hard as a rock, but that much can't break my ribs yet." This earns him a hit on his arm. 

"Hey! I'm trying to be considerate, and this is how you treat me?" You jab him, hand purposely smack his chest, but he doesn't budge an inch. How strong is this guy? This time, you put all the force on your arm, slapping hard on his chest again. The young man in the blues shoot you a shit-eating grin, clearly not faze.  

 "How is my chest feeling?" He pokes, his palm engulfing yours. 

" Too hard for my liking." You give him a complex look, trying to escape from his tight grip but fail miserably. You wiggle your hand again, shaking off his iron clad. Why is he so strong? 

While you are attempting to flee from his firm grasp, the young man leans down, face an inch away from you. Flushing at the sudden closure, like usual,  you avoid his burning gaze. You hold your breath when your noses almost touch. What is this rascal doing again? 

" You shouldn't be touching men like that." Kaeya opens his mouth, saying something completely out of nowhere. You tilt your head in confusion, while your eyes travel down, you notice your hands still on his chest. O-oh, so he is saying about this. 

" I  don't normally touch random people." You mumble defensively, your eyes lower. " I was checking for your injury."

"They will misunderstand." Kaeya cuts in right after, not accepting the excuse. But why would they misunderstand? You are just being nice, right? 

Like he can understand what is going inside your mind, Kaeya reminds you.

"All men are wolves, you should be more be careful with them."   

You give him a confusing look. 

Kaeya is not one of them, right? 

Eventually, he let out a soft sigh and moves back, allowing you to savour your personal space. Just right after your throbbing heart finally calms down, he brings your tight-griped hand in his to his face. Your meet with his alluring look in his eyes. It is pulling you in, telling you to give in the temptation. Plump lips brush your knuckle teasingly, he blows a warm breath on the back of your hand. He gives you a saccharine smile.

" And if not be careful." His husky voice ringing in your ears, the numbing spark runs along your spine. "They might devour you." 

[mynotsohealthyobsession]

Unexpected bond

Book: Bloodbound (between book 2 and 3)

Pairing: Adrian Raines x Lily Spencer (friendship) / Mention of Adrian Raines x MC

Words: 1.960

Rating: Mature

Warning: Angst / Mention of violence, death and harassment

**Tags in the reblog**

His jacket was on the floor, where he had thrown it a couple hours ago. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up as his forearms rested on his knees. He had his eyes shut and his back against the wall. His breathing was erratic and faltering, incapable of calming down. The powerful aura that he used to have, had completely disappeared, leaving him broken and defeated, looking as terrible as he felt inside. Whoever knew him beforehand and saw him at this moment, would doubt that that was actually the same Adrian Raines.

His hands had remnants of dried blood, the same that had coloured his white shirt, red. His body was still healing some wounds, cuts and a few broken bones, and bruises as result of their confrontation with Gaius. Every time he breathed, he felt a stinging pain in his chest but he couldn't care less. He had decided to not move from there no matter how long it took. Maybe she woke up before the expected, scared or disorientated. Maybe her bloodkeeper condition made it different for her and she needed some kind of help. Or maybe… Simply, he just couldn't leave her side. Whatever the reason was, he had decided to stay there, in Raines Corp.’s basement, near the sarcophagus in which, and he desperately hoped it was the case, Amy's body was changing, slowly transforming into a vampire.

As a couple of tears slipped on his cheeks, passing through the bloody print that her hand left on his skin as he held her, he couldn't avoid thinking how afraid he was of losing her, to face the world without her. Amy had saved them, after he had promised her he would protect her, she sacrificed herself for them. For him.

He squeezed his eyes tightly, letting his head fall back, against the wall. No matter how hard he tried, the images kept replaying over and over in his mind, in a horrible and constant loop. Amy taking the branch, getting close to Gaius. Her pained gasp as the sword went through her chest and emerged from her back. How his throat hurt from yelling her name, incapable of doing anything else but watch. The fire in her eyes, using the last of her strength to stab Gaius as her blood slipped down in the hilt of the sword onto Gaius' hand. Her little smile before she noticed that her knees gave up and hit the floor first as the rest of her body fell down. How quickly her skin became pale and cold as he held her, knowing that there was only one thing that could save her. How, mortally injured, she cupped his face, almost happy that they had 'won', even if right now it felt like he was about to lose everything that was important to him.

"Adrian?" His eyes flushed open, seeing Lily down the stairs. Her eyes puffy and bloodshot, all her usual energy and almost childlike happy mood, had disappeared. For the first time since he had met her, she seemed like an elderly woman who had lost against life itself. She sat beside him and offered him a pack of blood and what seemed to be a clean shirt.

"Thank you Lily, but I don't need it."

"You do." She gave him a broken look. "You think she would be okay seeing you still hurt?" She placed both things between them. "You are important to her, Adrian. She did what she did to save us. To save you."

"She shouldn't have done it! Now she's--" His voice abruptly cut, incapable to even put into words his fears and torments.

"I know." Lilly replied, distractedly fiddling with one of her rings. "But she's brave and her heart is bigger than anyone I've ever met." A pained smile lifted her lips a little. "Amy would never watch us die if she could avoid it. You know that." She fixed her stare on him, her voice a bit shattered. "Exactly like you or any of us would have done for her if the rolls were reversed."

"But I couldn't." His mind returned to the night before, when they had sleep holding each other. It felt so far away. "I promised her I would protect her no matter what and I couldn't. I failed her." It was the first time they shared this kind of conversation and time alone. It was obvious that Lily had a stronger relationship with Jax, like Adrian had with Kamilah. But, even if they were worried and sad too, right now, the pain Lily and Adrian were feeling, was different from theirs and had brought them together. "I should never have allowed her to get involved in this." To his surprise, she giggled.

"If you think you could have told her what to do, I'm sorry but you don't know her as well as you think." Adrian chuckled a bit alongside her. Lily was absolutely right about that.

"Did she ever tell you about the first time she saw me transformed, on her first day of work?" He wasn't sure why he asked her that. Probably because it was the moment that he realized that she would be special for him, even if he didn't know how much.

"Only a few parts."

"In almost 300 years a lot of people had learned the way she did about all this. And most… If not all of them, begged to forget, to return to their old lives." Despite himself, he smiled at the memory. "Amy… She just stood there. For a little while, she got scared, of course, but… She didn't run or scream. She started to ask me questions, curious, looking at me the exact same way she did all that day. Before her eyes, I was still… Me. She even joked about Nicole being dramatic during the feeding." He let out a sorrowful and shaking sigh. "I took her to Priya's fashion show and she told the security that she was my partner instead of my assistant." They both softly laughed.

"I think she had a crush with you almost instantly." Lily crossed her legs under her. "That night, before returning to the office, we chatted a bit. When I asked her about how you were, her answer was, and I'm quoting here 'super hot'." She said smiling at the same time that her palm dried her cheeks. "She was so happy to be able to stay in New York."

"It was an absolutely mutual feeling." Adrian passed his fingers through his hair, feeling an ache in his heart as his memory returned to the first time he saw her, that she had given him one of her beautiful smiles. "That night, she cut her hand with a glass. All the vampires around were drawn towards the fresh blood, to her."

"I know the feeling." She sadly murmured. "She mentioned that part actually, that you helped her and stood in front of her."

"I will never forget how she hugged me from behind. How when she was scared, she trusted me." His eyes started to burn with fresh tears. "She not only didn't allow the debriefing, but also convinced me to show her around the library." The tears ran free on his face and he didn't try to stop them. "She's brave and stubborn in the most wonderful way."

"I think you are not aware how important you are to her." They stood in silence, lost in their thoughts and memories until Lily talked again. "Amy had always tried to watch over you."

"I know she did." His voice was a low raspy whisper.

"Actually, I suspect you don't know how much." After a pause she sighed, as she had made a decision. "Amy is going to kill me for this…" She muttered. "There's something that she never told you." Adrian noticed the subtle change in her voice. "But I'm convinced you deserve to know." She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment. "After the trial where Vega framed you and they declared you guilty, everybody started to discuss how to divide your stuff and..." She stood in silence, her eyes filled with doubts.

"What happened, Lily?" He shifted his gaze to look at her, taking his attention from the coffin for the first time.

"Priya grabbed her from the throat and 'claimed' her for herself." Lily shivered a bit beside him as his blood seemed to boil and freeze at the same time. "She said that she wanted to break her. And after forcing her to watch you die, maybe kill her."

"Was she hurt?" Adrian frowned, clearly disturbed as a new wave of anguish went through his factions. He was conscious of all the times she had been in danger because of him but discovering that there were occasions that she hadn't told him to protect him, it felt like a powerful hand grabbed his heart and squeezed it slowly and extremely painfully.

"Kamilah stopped her almost immediately but she had a bruise around the neck for a couple weeks. She covered it with makeup."

"Amy never told me about that." He lowered his face, both of his hands holding it, seeming overwhelmed as his fingers ran through his hair.

"I know. She didn't want you to know. She was sure you would feel guilty even when it wasn't your fault." Lily stared at his eyes, he never had seen her gaze so intense. "What do you think was the first thing she said, when we left the temple after that?" Adrian stared at her back, unsure if he wanted to know. "She asked Kamilah how we could help you, to save you." Lily sadly smiled at him. "Even back then she didn't wanted to lose you. That's why she did what she did tonight."

He remembered the deep sadness and concern he saw in her when their eyes locked to each other as he was dragged away. The softness of her hand and words when she had found him in The Baron's dungeon. The happiness he felt when he saw her in front of him. "I didn't want to lose her either." He forced himself to say the words that couldn't stop repeating internally. "I don't want to lose her. I can't. I need her, she just can't di--" The lump in his throat cutted his voice, incapable of ending the last word.

"I don't know if she had heard you but… If it's worth something, I know she loves you too, Adrian." Lily murmured, her voice gruff. "You are the most important person to her." Her hands dried her cheeks. "Well, the second more important at least. Best friends and roommates rights, you know."

"I'll take it." Adrian smiled before his face fell again. "And it's worth more than you can imagine." His eyes fixed again on the sarcophagus. "I just hope to have the chance to tell it to her like she deserves. And maybe hear her say it back."

Lily took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes, standing up. "Are you sure you want to stay here?"

"Yes." She nodded and headed to the stairs. "Lily." He called her and she stopped to watch him. "Thank you. For the blood and everything afterwards."

"You are welcome, Adrian." She leaned against the wall for a minute. "I just know how sad she would be seeing you like this." She stared at the sarcophagus one last time, thinking the same thing that has been in Adrian's mind the last two hours and couldn't dare to face it: how silent the coffin was, without even a faint heartbeat or shallow breathing coming from it. Almost like it was empty.

✨

[daydream-believin]

What About the Smaller Picture (2)

Summary: Merlin knows best. And what he feels is best for you and Douxie right now is to sit around and wait for him to come back from New Jersey, Merlin-knows-when. (2) Your first day in Arcadia, it sure is something. (1) - (3)

Warnings: swearing, proofing is for nerds

Word Count: 2211

a/n: i hope to be able to make you feel the awkwardness radiating off of every part of this series

Hisirdoux’s special welcome tour didn’t exactly do its job of making you feel welcome. You supposed that was more of a problem with you than the town. It definitely wasn’t of any fault of Hisirdoux’s. If anything, he was being a little too warm. It almost felt fake.

People appeared to like Hisirdoux. All across town, he would greet friends, introduce you to them. Kinda like he was showing you off. You did not know what for. He barely knew you, yet he talked about you like you were an old friend returned to him. Like he was proud of you or something. You supposed he was establishing a cover story. And you weren’t sure why. Why not just say you were new in town? What tracks was he trying to cover here.

You stopped paying too much attention to what Hisirdoux was telling others about you. He was telling them that he cared for you. That he missed you. It was a lie, sure. But just hearing those words come out of someone else’s mouth were making you melt. It had been so long that it was hard for you to recall the last time a person said such nice things about you. That was sad. You supposed the blush on your face did good to add to the story he was telling. Made it more believable. You felt really pathetic that this guy you barely knew lying through his teeth about you was actually making you blush as if it was real. As if anyone really thought those nice things he said about you in real life. Man that’s really sad. Moving on.

The town itself looked a little rough. Like it had seen better days. It was apparently a hub of magic, so it probably had. A lot of the damage you saw looked very recent though. That made sense. The whole reason you wound up here was because you befriended a girl traveling with a pack of trolls migrating from this very town. When asked why they were migrating, Claire, the girl, had told you that their home had been destroyed in a recent battle. “The Eternal Night” they called the battle. You, of course, knew about such eternal night. You had heard of the prophecy, you just didn’t expect it to happen in your lifetime. And you may had freaked out just a tad when it came along earlier that month, the unexpected solar eclipse confusing you and your studies before you figured out what was happening. However, you had assumed the battle took place underground, you know, cause trolls. The town you explored with Hisirdoux told a different story. At one point you saw a troll walking by, under an umbrella, following a red-headed human woman with a baby in her arms. And the locals didn’t seem to care. No one batted an eye. Strange town.

What really baffled you though was what happened later in the day, back at the bookstore, when you cast a simple spell. Nothing too flashy, just a little levitation on a book Hisirdoux had sent you to find up on a high shelf you couldn’t reach. When he saw you, Doux made a really panicked gasping sound. He threw himself in front of you, shielding you from the people who were not even there, startling you, and throwing off your focus. The book landed on both of you with a thunk.

“You can’t do that,” his voice was hushed despite you two being the only ones in the shop at the moment, “It’s business hours. The mortals don’t know about wizards and they shouldn’t see magic,” he stressed.

“But- uh,, They look just fine with the trolls?” Confusion was written across your face.

“That’s different. It’s different. Look, the situation is weird, okay,” He made a little X with his hands. “But I can’t have you casting spells around the shop. Or in public, period. The mortals can’t see anything, okay?”

“Okay, okay. My bad. I won’t do it again- Promise.” Your face was hot with embarrassment. This was your fault for assuming. Fuck, he probably thinks you’re a wild card now or something. Not a good start to your professional life here. Or your relationship with this Adonis who’s reprimanding you.

“While there are some other wizards around town that I’ll introduce you to tonight, to stay safe, generally just keep the magic for when we’re alone and out of sight.”

“Oh, yeah, uh- Okay”

He grinned. Suddenly, he leaned in, catching you off guard. “It can be a special thing,” His voice was even softer as he was so close to you, “just between the two of us.”

Oh. So he meant when just You and Him were alone and out of sight. Ooookaaaayyyy. He winked to you as he separated himself from your side, and went off to the back of the store to continue unpacking a shipment he had just got in. He left you there, clutching that damn book to your chest, face now hotter than before, if that was even possible at all. Oh no.

Fuck, it was fucking day one. Day one! Day fucking one and you were developing a crush. NOPE. This was not something you were going to do. Uh-uh. Nein. There was no fucking time for this. Well, you didn’t really know how much time you had with Merlin and his addiction to being perceived as mysterious or whatever the hell was wrong with that asshole you worked for now, but the point is you did not have time for this! Hisirdoux was too much. Merlin really should have had the decency to warn you that he was hot. This wasn’t fair. Not only was Doux beautiful, but he was a touchy person. You weren’t going to stand a chance.

The thing is you had been sooo worried about how you and Hisirdoux were going to get along, you even brought up the concern to Merlin. To be honest, you had thought the old wizard to just be annoyed at your worrying, and that’s why he reassured you it’d all be fine. That you and Hisirdoux would get along swimmingly or whatever just get out of my hair kid. You were so afraid Hisirdoux would have to warm up to you like a cat being introduced to a new kitten. Afraid that he’d resent you since you were technically Merlin’s apprentice too now in a sense. And he was used to being number one, no one else to compete with for Merlin’s sparse pride since Morgana went astray. Merlin assured you Hisirdoux was very friendly. But like, would it kill the geezer to give you a warning that he’d be too friendly.

While you were having your little crisis, Douxie was humming along to the song in his head, stacking up the new books onto a display, trying his absolute dilly darndest not to think about what just happened. What he did. That wasn’t weird, right? Oh fuzzbuckets, he did something weird. He was just so used to playing up the flirty persona he’d developed he hadn’t even stopped to think about if he’d be making you uncomfortable. And he really wanted you to be comfortable. Plus, he felt pretty guilty he had to stop your tour around town to go accept a shipment he forgot. Strangely, he was really concerned about the impression he was giving you. Caring about what another person thought of him was not very in character for him. Not counting Merlin, of course. He was going to have to make this up to you. He really needed you to think he was cool. For professional reasons, of course. Definitely.

~ ~ ~

“SO! I recommend the steak because it’s the least disgusting thing on the menu.”

You gaped at the wizard sitting across from you in this sticky booth, peeping your head over the kitschy French-themed menu you held. He had no menu. In fact he refused to even touch it. Great. What did he know.

“I- What do mean ‘least disgusting’, Casperan.” You were almost afraid to ask.

“I mean that kitchen is filthy and the steak is your best bet for something edible.”

“Why. Why would you bring me here if the food is terrible.”

You were always weary of greasy chain restaurants, but you had expected this one to be at least a little decent, since it was a smaller Cali chain and Hisirdoux had fucking brought you to it your first day in the town. Surely he was kidding.

“I just wanted to show you where I worked nights. So you’d be able to find me easier if there’s any trouble. Besides, you can’t say you’ve been to California if you haven’t had Mr. Benoit’s. It’s like In-N-Out burger. Remind me to take you to an In-N-Out burger later this week.”

You blinked. “Oh – uh, okay.”

Hisirdoux continued, “I can’t have my phone turned on during my shifts so you’ll have to come get me directly if it’s a big enough problem. Make up an emergency. Are you good at improve?”

You looked around the restaurant, getting a feel for its layout, taking notice of where the kitchen and back doors were located, making mental notes of all exits. “Ah, well, I’m good at lying, if that’s what you’re asking…”

“Good enough.”

The waiter came to take your orders. Hisirdoux shared an inside joke with him. It should have been awkward, them laughing away at something you didn’t understand why you sat there quietly, but you were a little too fixated on how pretty Hisirdoux looked when he laughed. It was mesmerizing. The waiter took your order. You got the steak.

~ ~ ~

It was very important for you to establish connections in Arcadia’s wizard underground. Or at least that’s what Hisirdoux thought. You weren’t particularly a social butterfly. It’s not that you didn’t like having a large group of friends or anything, you just never really had a reason to have one. And Doux was hell bent on introducing you to every person in this town in one day apparently. You had met twenty-three wizards in counting over the last hour being shepherded through this off-brand apple store. You had so far learned no names. How did he expect you to remember these peoples names.  Scratch that. You knew one name. Zoe. Just because she was very annoyed at your and Hisirdoux’s presence in her workplace, and was very vocal about it. That being said, she didn’t make any real effort to get you to leave. You wished she would though. You were getting overwhelmed. Today had been incredibly stressful, with a lot of information to take in, and with only a brief rest when Doux was handling things at the bookstore. You wanted to go home. Geez, home. You realized that Hisirdoux had yet to show you home. Where was home.

You tugged on his hand to grab his attention. “Hey, I’m- uh – tired? Really tired. Can - can we go home?”

“OH. Yes! Home. Right away. Yes.”

Douxie possibly maybe had been avoiding home all day. It just, it wasn’t much. He had no idea how you were going to react. His space was small already without adding another person to it. Of course, it wasn’t any smaller than any of the one-room cottages that entire families used to share, but it was tiny for modern standards. Okay to be frank it was a back room. Not technically even an actual apartment. But it was his home. And now it was your home too.

Okay, so Hisirdoux lived in his bookstore. What was probably supposed to be a break room was his entire living space. It was… cozy. You set the backpack that carried everything you owned down on the floor and headed for the lumpy plaid sofa. It was nice and old, like a sofa should be. The plaid pattern covered any stains that might have been there. Hisirdoux sat down next to you, starting to fiddle with his hands. You looked around, took it all in. The was a kitchenette off to one side, a bed to the other side. The sofa was in the sort of middle ground. Notably, there was no table, barely any counter space, and various teacups on the coffee table, so it was a safe bet that he just ordered take out every night and ate it on the sofa. The twin bed was on the ground, and the quilts that covered it had visible holes. It struck you that this bed was the only one in the room. The one room.

“So I’ll take the sofa, until we get you a bed. I’ll, uh, figure something out with the space. We can put up curtains or something.” It was if he had read your mind.

You nodded, unsure of anything to add. This was,,,, going to be fun. A challenge. A test to see how long you can act normal while living in extremely close quarters with a funny medieval supermodel. Merlin help you. Something moved in the corner of your eye. You gasped.

“Kitty!”

“Oh, that’s Archie.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Talking kitty. How bout that.

[let-it-raines]

I Hope We Never See October (8/12)

When his personal life and football career go up in flames, Killian Jones escapes England for America, finding seclusion in Martha’s Vineyard in order to hide from his demons. It’s a fresh start, or at the very least a paused moment in his life, and all he needs is a few months alone to allow his heart to heal. He doesn’t count on meeting Emma Swan.

Emma’s life depends on tourists who come to the island every summer. It’s how she makes her money working in restaurants and clubs across the vineyard, but every year, she cannot wait until autumn comes and her life returns to normal. She especially cannot wait for Killian Jones to leave.

Rating: Mature

a/n: Okay, so that cliffhanger, huh? I thought our mystery guests were obvious, but then again, I'm writing the story. But We'll answer all those questions here!

AO3: Beginning | Current Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

-/-

Killian’s side of the bed is cold when Emma’s alarm goes off. She expects him to still be there either sleeping or on his phone – he seems to do most of his work in the mornings when he doesn’t want to get out of bed – but he’s not there.

She hates herself a little bit for even noticing the cool feel of the sheets beneath her fingertips.

Emma groans and stretches her legs out, wondering how much time she has to go back to sleep before she absolutely has to go into work. She squints at her phone. She’s got two hours before she has to be at work. She could definitely sleep for another hour and a half and then look like shit at work. That might be nice, actually.

But then she smells something cooking downstairs, and almost on cue, her stomach growls.

Slowly, she gets out of bed, and the floor is cold against her bare feet. She should really go take a shower before she goes downstairs, and despite the good smell, she goes into the bathroom and quickly showers, leaving her hair dry. It’s curly and a bit frizzy from leaving it wet after her shower at the Nolans’ last night, but that’s a problem for another time…tomorrow. She’ll make it look better tomorrow. Emma grabs a pair of shorts and a button-down, putting them both on, and she pulls out a pair of sandals from her closet for later. She’s not as presentable as she should be, but maybe she can stay in her office and away from customers.

Besides, this is better than what it could have been had she not at least rinsed off the remaining sunscreen and sweat from her skin.

Emma smooths down her shirt and fluffs her hair. There’s the slightest bit of red on her chest from Killian’s beard, so she buttons up one more button before heading downstairs. From the smell of it, Killian is either cooking pancakes or waffles, and she’ll take either.

As far as her seasonal friends with benefits go, Killian is definitely the winner.

For the breakfast, the sex, and maybe the conversation. She thought about that for too long yesterday, and it’s too damn early for her to be thinking about any of this today. All she wants is food and coffee, so that’s all she’s thinking about. It’s all she can.

“Damn, Jones,” Emma shouts from the top of the stairs, “something smells delicious.”

She’s at the bottom of the stairs when she hears other voices. For one brief second, she thinks Killian is on the phone, but she’d know those voices anywhere. One haunts her nightmares, the other is the voice of her dreams, and neither was supposed to be here for three weeks.

Three fucking weeks.

Shit.

Holy shit.

What the hell has Neal done that he has to show up like this without even giving her any kind of heads up?

And how does she fix this? Killian was never supposed to know about Henry. He was the one question she’d never answer. He would have been her veto had it ever come up. When he got home from spending the summer with his dad in New York City, Emma was going to start phasing Killian out. They’d only ever spend time at his place, she’d never spend the night unless Henry was sleeping over at his friends. Usually, she doesn’t have this problem because the guy leaves way before this. He doesn’t have the chance to ever know about Henry, and Emma likes it that way.

The last guy that met Henry was Walsh, and that was only on accident. Or at least that’s what Walsh said, but Emma’s always thought Walsh showed up at the Blue Dog at that time on purpose because he knew Henry would be there with Emma. The guy never understood why Emma didn’t let him meet her son, but when you’ve never been able to trust a man besides David and possibly Graham with him, you have reservations.

His dad’s a full-blown asshole who has upended her life more than once, and she’s already so done with whatever bullshit excuse he’s got for bringing Henry home early.

Emma jumps in place, trying to breathe without really inhaling, and then she turns the corner into the kitchen.

The sight is as bad as she expected. The first person she sees is Killian, and if it were any other morning, this would be a good view to wake up to. His joggers hang low on his hips, he’s standing by the stove shirtless, and his hair is sticking in several directions from where her hands tugged on it last night. Then she sees Neal, who is standing in the corner with his arms crossed, frown on his face. He looks older since she saw him at the beginning of June. His beard is filled with more gray, his hair unruly in a purposeful way. He looks pissed, and Emma already knows this is about to be hell.

And then she sees Henry, and the tenseness fades from her shoulders when she sees his smile and the giant backpack he’s wearing. He’s got to empty that damn thing out.

God, she’s missed him so much.

“Mom!” he squeals, running toward her.

Emma opens her arms and embraces him, holding onto the back of his head and breathing him in. As much as Emma sometimes likes the freedom her summer affords her, she does miss her son. A lot. Him being gone is the entire reason she picks up shifts at The Oaks. She needs the distraction, not so much the money, until the summer is over and Henry comes back home for school.

“Hey, kid,” Emma laughs as she keeps hugging him. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too. Can I have the waffles?”

“What?”

He pulls back and grins. “The waffles Killian made. Can I have them?”

“Killian,” Emma slowly repeats. She looks over Henry’s head toward Killian who is furiously scratching behind his ear, and she realizes just how much he has a deer in the headlights look going on. As confused as she is right now, she knows he’s just had a few bombs dropped on him. “Uh, yeah, why don’t you and my friend Killian eat. I’m going to talk to your dad in the backyard for a minute. Neal.”

“What? I don’t get a hi?” Neal asks.

“Backyard. Now.”

He smiles, and once upon a time, she would have found that charming. Right now, she wants to slap it right off his face. Whatever he has to say, she knows it won’t be good. Emma closes the back door behind them and moves far enough across the deck to keep Henry from hearing.

“What the hell, Neal?”

The smile falls, and Emma crosses her arms over her chest. She has to put up a barrier with him. “Why are you so angry? Are you not excited to see Henry? He has been gone all summer, you know.”

“Of course I’m excited to see my kid. But I wasn’t supposed to see him three weeks from now. And with a head’s up. We have a schedule, Neal. Like, a court-mandated schedule that you made us get, and you’re not sticking to it.”

“That I made us get?” he scoffs. “What’s that supposed to mean? If I recall, you’re the one who kept my son from me for seven years and then didn’t want to give me custody.”

How is he such an ass? Seriously. How does he still not get it?

Emma steps closer and straightens her back. She doesn’t need to make herself taller, not for him, but she does anyway. “I got pregnant with Henry when I was sixteen. You were twenty-four. Do the math on how that’s wrong in about eighty-two different ways. And if I recall, and trust me I have a pretty good memory of this day, when I told you I had something important to tell you, you disappeared off the face of the planet. That doesn’t really seem like a guy who deserves to know about his kid.”

“Oh, come on, Ems. You can’t still be mad about that, can you?”

Is it still considered assault if Emma punches someone who deserves to be punched? There must be a law making that okay.

“Why are you here early, Neal?”

She doesn’t want to get into this with him. He’s never going to understand how much he fucked up Emma’s life. There’s no need for her to try to get him to understand now when all she wants is to know why he just showed up early.

“Who’s that guy in there?” he asks, evading her question.

“A friend.”

His mouth crinkles when he laughs, and she hates it. “A shirtless friend who fixes you breakfast? I hope you don’t make a habit of this when Henry’s home.”

“You don’t get a say on my dating life. Or my parenting skills. Now answer my question.”

He blows out air, and rolls his eyes, like she’s the one inconveniencing him. “Look, Tamara wants to go on vacation before summer ends, and she didn’t want to bring Henry with us. So I thought I’d bring him back to you and it wouldn’t be an issue. I’m sure you can keep him entertained until he goes back to school.”

“Oh my God. Oh my God, Neal, are you serious? You are breaking the rules of our custody agreement because you want to go on vacation with your girlfriend? How is it possible that you’re so selfish? I mean, God, seriously.”

Emma groans and buries her face in her hands before screaming. Or at least screaming as loud as she can without Henry knowing.

“Henry is a good fucking kid,” Emma continues, slowly breathing to calm herself down, “and he loves you. He doesn’t see all the shit I do because I’ve hidden that from him, but you can’t just do this, Neal. You can’t decide you’re done playing dad and give him back to me when you nearly made me go broke fighting to keep custody of the kid I’d raised since he was born. That’s not how being a parent works.”

“That’s rich coming from the woman who has used her time away from her kid to fuck British tourists and is upset her kid is back early because her vacation has to end.”

Emma looks up into the eyes of the man she once loved, the man who gave her son his eyes, and she says, “Go say goodbye to Henry and get the hell out of my house. I’ll see you next June, if you still decide to show up then.”

It’s a dismissal, and Neal never takes those. Not sitting down at least. She’s sure there will be arguments and petty jabs for the next few months. He’ll make her life hell while playing as the good guy. He has this act where he says things like “he’s a good person now, can’t she just move on from the past?”

There’s a difference between forgiveness and moving on that not a lot of people get. They say you have to forgive to move on, but that’s not true. You can move on without forgiveness because some people don’t deserve it. At all. Sometimes all you can do is stop letting them live in your head rent free, and you have to forgive yourself for ever falling for the lies.

Emma’s chosen that route. She’s forgiven herself, has moved on with her life even with Neal constantly trying to pull her back down, and she’s not about to stand here and let him criticize her personal life when he has no business in it.

Through the window, Emma watches Neal hug Henry goodbye. It takes less than a minute before he’s gone and Henry is back to eating his breakfast. Emma would laugh, she wants to at how ridiculous this all is, but she’s not finding anything about today funny. Because while Neal will go back to New York and will be happy, she’s stuck here cleaning up the mess he just made because she has to do everything in her power to make sure her kid never knows the version of his dad she knows.

A phone call would have been nice. At least then she could have gotten Killian out of the house. She still would have been pissed, but at the very least, she would have been able to make things a little better than they are now.

“Shit,” Emma breathes out, looking toward the sky. “Shit, shit, shit.”

Emma inhales and exhales several times before forcing a smile and walking inside where Henry is eating the breakfast that was meant for her and talking to Killian about soccer of all things.

Well, not of all things. Most of the time, Emma forgets that Killian plays professionally. Hell, they talked about it yesterday, and it still isn’t at the forefront of her mind. That part of his life has nothing to do with hers…except for right now when Killian is talking to her son about it.

He still doesn’t have on a damn shirt.

“Mom, did you know Killian used to play soccer? Like, as a job. That’s so cool! Do you think he could coach my team?”

“I did know that, kid.” Emma kisses his forehead, and he squirms away. It’ll take him a week or two to get used to her kind of affection versus Neal’s, so she’s not too offended. “How do you know that?”

“I recognize him.”

“Since when do you watch a lot of British soccer? Or football as Killian calls it.” She mimics Killian’s accent, but she also knows she did a terrible job with it.

Henry shrugs and stuffs a large bite of waffle in his mouth. “Dad doesn’t have anything to watch on TV but sports channels. All I did during the day was watch old soccer matches.”

“Wait. Where was your dad?”

Henry shrugs again. “I don’t know. At work I guess.”

Neal works from home most days of the week. What an ass. Emma bets he didn’t even get someone to watch Henry. He just used old sports reruns to keep him entertained.

“Hey, kid,” Emma says, finally looking to Killian, “can you stay in here and eat breakfast while I talk to Killian in the other room?”

“Sure.”

Emma flashes a tight smile and then nods her head toward the stairs. Killian gets the message and walks upstairs without being asked, immediately heading toward the bedroom. He stands by the window, arms crossed over his chest, and Emma watches his jaw tick, the smile he had on for Henry a moment ago, gone.

Softly, Emma closes the door behind her.

“I have my personal question of the day, Swan. You have a son?”

Okay, great, so this is how it’s going to be. Emma opens her dresser drawer and pulls out a shirt for Killian. He catches it after she tosses it and tugs it on. It doesn’t help as much as she’d like it to.

“Okay, look,” Emma begins, “you were never supposed to meet Henry. He wasn’t…his dad was supposed to have him for three more weeks.”

“The contract on my rental house has more time on it than that.”

Emma runs her hands through her hair and sighs. “I don’t know. I would have figured it out. Only go to your place, spend less time together. I mean, it’s only natural, right? Because you’re going to leave, and it would make sense for things to die down between us.”

Killian laughs, but Emma gets the sense he doesn’t find any of this funny. “Yeah, it makes perfect sense. This was only about sex, right?”

“Killian.”

“No, no.” He holds his hand up. “It’s fine, Swan. I get it. It’s my fault for thinking we might be mates on top of that.”

“I mean, we are – kind of, maybe. I don’t know.” Emma sighs and sits on the end of her bed. She doesn’t know what to do. Even more, she doesn’t know what to say. She definitely doesn’t know how to feel. “It was never supposed to be like this. I’m usually better at not blurring the lines. I don’t know what happened with us that made me drop my guard.”

“I knew you found me charming.”

Emma laughs and falls back on the mattress. “I have a kid, Killian, and he’s back. I can’t be like I was. We can’t just fuck whenever we want or stay out late or eat pizza at three in the morning. I’ve got to make sure Henry has a place to stay and Mary Margaret is across the country visiting her parents so that’s out for awhile. And I’m still working two jobs because I thought I had time to do that. I don’t, God, I don’t know what to do about anything in my life. Plus, you know, I want to spend time with Henry, and I don’t have a lot of free time.”

“I could watch him, love. He’s a bit older than what I’m used to with my nieces, but I’m sure I can find ways to entertain him.”

Emma sits up. Her heart is beating way too fast, and suddenly, the true reality of this situation hits her.

The man she’s been sleeping with has met her son.

And he’s offering to babysit.

What the actual hell?

She needs time to think. And scream. She definitely has to scream into her pillow for at least an hour because she literally cannot think of another thing to do. This is all too much, and she needs Killian to leave. He makes this all too complicated. She needs to go downstairs and eat breakfast with Henry. That she can do. That’s not complicated. That’s something she’s done every day for ten years, even if it’s usually Pop Tarts or a bowl of cereal, not homemade waffles and eggs.

“Can you, uh,” Emma starts, biting her lip, “can you go home? I need to spend time with Henry. He won’t show it, but I know he knows why his dad brought him home early. I’ve got some crap to deal with, but I’ll text you later.”

His eyes narrow, and Emma knows that look by now. He knows she’s lying, but she doesn’t expect him to call her out on her lie.

And he doesn’t because as quickly as his eyes narrow, they widen and a slight smile creeps onto his lips. “I’ll see you later, Swan. I’ll get my clothes out of the machine downstairs and go.”

“Thanks.”

Killian doesn’t move, and Emma has a hard time looking at him until she does. His eyes are so damn blue. It’s ridiculous.

But then he moves. Leaves, actually, just like she asked him to, and she hears every single step as he leaves the house and gets into his car. Emma breathes out a sigh of relief, maybe a little confusion, and then she grabs her phone of her bedside table.

Not a single warning text or call from Neal, just like she thought. Ass.

ES: SOS. My house. 10 minutes.

RL: Are you dead?

ES: Yes, I’m texting you from beyond.

RL: I am hungover. Give me 30.

Emma tosses her phone on her bed and heads downstairs. The life she was living is over. Henry’s home, and she is his mom. That’s what she has to do, and right now, that means putting her anger at Neal and confusion with Killian behind her to go eat breakfast with her kid.

She can only partially ignore that Killian was making this breakfast for her.

For them.

-/-

“King Harold,” Ruby says when she walks through the door in her pajamas and immediately sees Henry, “welcome back to your seaside palace. Come give me a hug.”

“Only if you never call me Harold again.”

“I can’t agree to that, Harold.”

Henry rolls his eyes, but he hugs Ruby anyway. “My name is Henry.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ruby kisses the top of his head. “You smell like waffles.”

“Killian made waffles for breakfast.”

“Killian did?” she asks, looking over Henry’s head toward Emma. Emma shrugs and cocks her head.

“Kid, why don’t you go unpack? When you’re finished, we’ll go to the beach before I have work.”

“Really?”

“Mhm.” Emma hums and nods at the stairs. “I told them I’d be late today. Get your bags and go.”

Henry quickly grabs his suitcases. They’re nearly bigger than him, but he manages to drag them up the stairs. Emma waits until she hears his bedroom door close, and then she moves to the kitchen and collapses on a barstool. Ruby fixes herself a plate of leftover food and starts eating. “I have eight thousand questions.”

Without lifting her head from the counter, Emma tries to answer at least half those questions. “Killian slept over and was making breakfast when Neal and Henry walked in, so they both met him, which went over as well as you’d expect. Neal didn’t tell me he was bringing Henry back early, but apparently his girlfriend got tired of having him around and wanted to go on vacation. Neal thought ambushing me was the best way to go about the situation, and then he got pissed about me having a guy over.”

Emma peaks up to see Ruby blinking. Slowly. Did she not process anything or is she just so hungover that it’s taking her a long time to figure out what to say?

“Was Neal charming or something when you guys were together?’

Emma laughs. “I was sixteen, and he paid attention to me. He might as well have been Prince Charming.”

“He’s the worst.” Ruby scrunches up her nose. “And you’re not a Prince Charming type of girl. I get more of a rebel vibe from you.”

“Yeah, because mom and restaurant manager means rebel.”

Rub leans over and pokes Emma’s nose. “I don’t think you know how badass you are, Emma Swan. Give me a minute to get some coffee and make more food because I definitely need to dissect everything that’s going on with you. Baby daddy and new boyfriend not included.”

“Not my boyfriend.”

“Oh, right. Just sex friend because you totally invite sex friends to parties at Marg’s place. That seems normal.”

Emma narrows her eyes. “I invited you here to help with a crisis. Not create a new one.”

“I’m just saying,” Ruby sighs, “Mr. Jones is a hell of a lot better than most of the guys you shack up with. Your unfortunate sperm donor included. I’d think about that if I were you. I mean, we both know you’re about to ghost him, but at least think about it, Emma.”

Yeah, maybe she will.

-/-

-/-

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