#and then my mom won’t even sit in the passenger’s seat and instead will sit in the back annoying all of us immensely

[phantomtwitch]

Sooo I wrote a Part 2 for the Everyone Knows AU part of angstfest. (Anything to avoid editing my IB fic right now, apparently)

Part One of this fic is here if you missed it!

Danny sits in the passenger seat of Jazz’s car, leaning his head against the window as his Mom drives them in silence, her hands tightly gripping the steering wheel. His Dad and sister are back at FentonWorks, since his parents insisted it would be best if Danny and his Mom went alone, and it’s been hours since he’s seen any real signs of civilization. The further they travel from home the worse he feels, some nagging sense of discomfort and uneasiness that won’t relent, even as he knows this is to help him. 

For over a year and a half, he’s been experiencing fainting spells and blackouts every time there’s a ghost attack. He’s lucky his friends have managed to keep it hidden from his peers at school, since he knows Dash’s bullying would only increase if he knew Danny was so terrified of the ghosts that he fainted every time one appeared. They tried to keep it from his parents, too, with his sister Jazz’s help, even as Danny couldn’t understand why. But every time he thought about telling them in the past, his jaw would lock up and the words would die before he could utter even a single syllable. 

Yet now they know. He remembers waking up in the lab, not sure how he made it there, his parents sobbing as Jazz hovered in the corner, arms crossed over her chest as she watched the three of them warily. They said something to him, explained something even as they lectured Jazz, too, about keeping this a secret, but the words slipped from his fingers within minutes, and whatever confession they made was lost to him. But he can remember the fear in their eyes, the way they trembled and shook, and the odd sense that they were afraid of him rather than for him. He can remember asking if he should go to a doctor and the way they paled, adamantly refusing to bring him to anyone for weeks. It’s only now that they’ve finally agreed to bring him to see some specialist way out in Wisconsin. 

It used to be that whenever this happened, something would push back in his own subconscious eventually, reassuring him that it was fine, that he was fine, that there was nothing to worry about. It would smother him like a comforter in the middle of a snowstorm, warm and inviting and soft even as it felt entirely too heavy and like he really ought to be outside helping to dig out from the blizzard instead of hiding inside beneath his covers, but he still let it, the embrace too kind and safe for him to push back against. But this time he could not forget, not when his parents flinched every time he entered a room, not when they seemed so afraid even after so many weeks. Danny wishes he knew what he did wrong, what they fear about him, why they seem to almost hate him at times. It hurts, the ache so intense that there are moments when he swears something within him is fracturing and slowly crumbling to pieces, and he hopes this specialist can help repair whatever’s been broken. 

When they finally arrive, though, it’s not at a doctor’s office but a massive mansion. “Are you sure we’re in the right place?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow. 

“I’m sure,” she insists as she unbuckles her seatbelt while Danny steps out of the car. Despite the bright colors and decor, something in him uncurls in his gut like a snake, rearing back and ready to strike, and Danny shivers as he fights back against the odd sensation. 

The man who greets them is tall with silver hair pulled back into an elegant ponytail tied with a red silk ribbon that probably costs more than Danny’s entire wardrobe. He’s wearing a dark black suit and red tie, and the way he smiles reminds Danny of a crocodile or a shark. It’s as if he’s slime given form and Danny shudders.

“Hello, Vlad,” says Mom. 

“My dearest Maddie,” he says, kissing his mother on both cheeks. “How lovely to see you after so long. And what a pleasure to meet you, young Daniel. I’ve heard quite a bit about you.” He offers him his hand and Danny shakes it, barely resisting the urge to pull away immediately since the man’s grip is too hot, like fire burns beneath his fingertips. A small, absurd part of him wonders if he’s the devil, if his parents are planning to make some terrible deal (or admit to having done so long ago given his issues), but he pushes his fears down. 

“Thanks, I guess, but I don’t know anything about you,” replies Danny, and the man flinches briefly before recovering. “My Mom said you could help me with my fainting spells and blackouts, though.”

“Ah, yes. Your ‘fainting spells,’” he says bemusedly, as if in quotes, and that defensive, roiling in his gut returns, more pronounced than before. 

“Vlad,” says Mom sternly. “Please. Can you help him?”

“That depends entirely on what you mean by help, but I’ll see what I can do,” he says with a small smirk, and Danny bristles even as his Mom seems satisfied with the response. “Follow me.” 

The two of them walk through the massive mansion. It’s decked out in Packers paraphernalia, which seems completely at odds with the perfectly poised man in front of him. “You’re a cheesehead?” says Danny. 

“Indeed. I’ve tried to buy the Packers several times, too, but to no avail,” he says, teeth gritted, and Danny suspects the man isn’t told ‘no’ very often. He worries what that means for him and his potential treatment. 

“What kind of specialist are you?” he asks. 

“I am technically a business owner, but I’ve done extensive research into unique types of ecto entities,” he says, watching Danny out of the corner of his eye. “Entities like yourself.”

“I’m not–I’m human,” he objects, and he can feel that buzzing, that comfortable embrace pulling on him, and he tries to resist it but finds himself unwilling to do so for long, and by the time he’s aware once more he’s standing on the stairs to a basement lab, unable to remember what Vlad’s specialty is, what else they talked about or how they even made it here. 

“What did you say you specialized in?” he asks, and Vlad pauses on the stairs in front of them, turning to him with a frown. 

“See?” says Mom. “I told you already, Vlad, he can’t remember for more than a minute or two.”

“Remember what?” asks Danny irritably. 

“That I’m a specialist who can help you with your blackouts and medical issues,” says Vlad, and Danny frowns. That’s frustratingly non-specific, even as it’s almost certainly, technically true. 

“So like a neurologist?” he presses. 

“Something like that,” he says, and Danny scowls as he follows him the rest of the way into the lab, not sure why they won’t tell him the truth, not sure why he can’t remember if they already did. 

The lab itself is incredibly high-tech. There’s no repurposed household items like there are in his parents’ lab, and everything is carefully organized, labeled, and tucked away. In one corner sits a massive portal, and Danny’s eyes widen as he takes in the green swirling within it, recognizing it for what it is. “You’re an ecto scientist?” he says, turning to the man as he puts on a lab coat. 

“Indeed, though I specialize in many other areas, too,” he says. “Maddie, dear, why don’t you have a seat over there while I examine young Daniel?” 

His Mom pauses, eyeing Vlad warily for a moment before finally relenting and taking a seat at one of the empty lab benches. “And you, child, come here,” he insists, beckoning to him like Danny’s an obedient puppy, and Danny glares as he takes a seat on the bed, crossing his arms over his chest. “I need to do a quick scan. Please lay back.”

“What kind of scan?” He won’t simply do what this man asks, not without knowing more first. Not when even his Mom looks nervous. 

“Think of it like an MRI or x-ray. I promise, it’s harmless,” he says, flashing his teeth in a way that’s meant to be reassuring but is far too predatory, and Danny shivers as he looks at his Mom. She gives a small smile that’s not half as reassuring as he hoped even as she nods for him to do as Vlad says, and Danny sighs as he lays down on the bed, letting his hands rest on his stomach, his fingers twisting around in his shirt as he ignores the pounding of his heart and the sweat on his palms. 

‘I’ll be fine,’ he thinks stubbornly to himself, and he feels that odd sense of warmth, of a hug from something within his chest and relaxes as Vlad wheels over some strange scanner. It moves slowly over him, hovering for a long time near where his heart and lungs are before progressing, and then Vlad sits down at a computer for a few minutes as he reviews the results, humming thoughtfully as Danny’s Mom walks over and peers over his shoulder. 

“Is that . . .?” she asks, pointing to something on the screen. 

“Yes. But see this? There’s disconnection here,” he says, pointing to it and moving his finger, and Danny angles his head to try and see what they’re looking at but he can’t, the screen angled away from him too much. He starts to sit up when his Mom looks at him and shakes her head, and with a sigh he lays back down, drumming his fingers on his stomach impatiently. Clearly they’ve found something, and he feels like he has a right to know what. “The pathways didn’t form properly, and if they aren’t repaired, he’s not going to survive for much longer. You can already see the damage to his internal organs.” 

Danny swallows, his blood running cold. He’s going to die? He didn’t–he can’t be–

“Can you fix it?” she asks, interrupting his thoughts. 

“I think so, but it may be a bit traumatic,” Vlad says, “and with the disconnection having lasted so long, I’m not certain how cooperative he’ll be when it comes to the required treatment. Still, the memory issues are more severe than they ought to be even in this case. I have my suspicions about the cause, but I’ll need to provoke him to confirm it.”

“What?” Danny’s heart is beating rapidly and he’s sitting up now, staring at them with wide eyes, unable to hold back his terror even as he can begin to feel that tug at him, that warmth, but he won’t give into it this time. He can’t. He needs to know. 

“I would explain it, child, but you won’t remember,” sighs Vlad as he stands up. “Do you trust your mother?”

“I–what?” he sputters. Aside from it sounding like he’s probably dying, Danny’s still not sure what’s happening here, even as Vlad and his mom do seem to understand, and he desperately wants them to explain it to him, to tell him the truth, for someone to be honest with him just once.

“I would prefer your consent, of course, but you literally cannot give it due to your condition,” he explains, which makes absolutely no sense to Danny. “I’m asking if you trust your mother so she can at least grant it on your behalf.”

His mouth opens automatically to say that of course he trusts her, but then he pauses, the words dying on his tongue. Does he trust her? She’s brought him here with little to no explanation, and like with his sister and his friends, Danny knows nothing about why or what’s happening to him besides the blackouts. They all claim they’ve told him about it before–even this Vlad guy seems to suggest as much–but he hates that he can’t remember, hates that he has nothing to fall back on to confirm that they all have his best interest at heart beyond his own gut feeling. And his instincts right now are diametrically opposed, screaming at each other to reassure Vlad that he trusts her even as another part insists that he can’t, that he shouldn’t, that she’ll hurt him and he needs to be kept safe and he can feel that part forcibly pushing down on his ability to say yes, to let them know they can do the treatment, that they need to move forward and–

Danny blinks, struggling to remember what he was thinking about, what question he was supposed to answer. “I–sorry–can you . . . what did you say?” he whispers, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment, and Vlad tilts his head to the side. 

“Interesting,” he hums. “But it does provide more proof for what I suspect is occurring. Maddie, dear, do I have your permission?”

“But he–”

“I’m not sure he can,” interrupts Vlad as Danny stares at them cluelessly, not sure what they’re talking about again. He’s lost some more time, he’s sure, but he doesn’t know why. He doesn’t think he fainted or fully blacked out, yet the last thing he can remember is laying down on the table before Vlad prepared to start the scan, and he shivers, rubbing his arms. 

She turns to look at him, and then walks over, putting a hand on his shoulder. “It’ll be okay, hon,” she says and then she gives him a hug, squeezing him tightly, but he can feel her trembling even as she tries to reassure him. “I promise, okay?”

“I–okay,” he manages, the word choking its way past, and then she walks back to Vlad. 

“Maddie, my dear, you’ll need to stay here, please,” he insists, and Mom nods as Vlad comes over with something Danny recognizes. It’s a portable ghost shield, although the design is different from the one his parents use, and Vlad presses a finger against a sensor, activating around them as Danny’s heart beats faster now and the thing in his gut rears back, ready to strike as Vlad’s eyes flash impossibly red and a set of black rings appear around his waist, and–

Danny’s body drops to the table as Phantom emerges, hissing and shrieking at the intruder and ghost before him, tackling him with his claws as his brain screams at him to protect, protect, protect! The ghost puts up a shield, eyeing him lazily as he speaks, his words full of fire and ash even as they sound human, too, smothered beneath the surface of the water. “Enough, child,” he insists, using human words, but he can see the ripples in his aura, the subtle shifts that indicate his intentions, and he pauses with his claws outstretched, ectoblast building between the black tips. “So you are sentient enough, at least, to understand. Can you speak?” 

He hisses, echoes and static and chirps as his aura flares in response, letting him know that he sees the threat but that he’s unafraid, that he will protect Danny and his mother from the ghost in front of him. There are no real words, not in the way there is with human speech simply because there doesn’t need to be, his intentions and meaning clear enough for any ghost to understand. 

“Ah. I thought not, based on what we saw in the scans,” he muses. Black rings appear around his waist and he shifts, the dark haired ghost with bluish skin and fire in his hands and eyes vanishing beneath a human facade. “I promise I intend no harm.”

The words mean less to Phantom now than they would’ve if Vlad spoke them before transforming. Vlad’s aura is muted this way, his intentions less clear even as Phantom can taste the ash on his tongue as the man speaks, the echo of Vlad’s otherness apparent to him, and Phantom floats forward, tilting his head around as he puts a clawed hand on Vlad’s chest to better feel the pulsing of his core beneath his flesh. 

“Vlad, are you–” begins Mom, her words sounding distant and submerged beneath waves. It’s always so hard for him to hear and understand the humans that speak to him, even as he tries since he doesn’t want to hurt them. He needs to protect them. He needs to keep them safe. 

“I’m quite fine,” he insists, even as Phantom hisses a warning at him. “Are you done posturing? I’m here to help you, Daniel. Or do you prefer Phantom?”  Phantom’s aura flares, spiking and sending a mixture of signals. “You are not helping him.” His claws extend, pushing intangibly through his skin, grasping his core, but Vlad remains calm despite the clear threat. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. You are disconnected from yourself this way. You leave behind your body each time, and eventually, no matter how much your friends and family intervene, you will not be able to return to it.”

He turns his head more, floating upside down, his tail spiraling behind him as he considers the words. Vlad’s core is too tightly grasped between his fingers for him to hide his intentions, and there’s truth there, at least as far as Vlad sees it, and Phantom sends a questioning chirp. “You are meant to be a single entity,” he says. “But your core is not fully connected to your biological systems. It’s created a barrier between you and Daniel, an artificial wall that should not exist, and it’s harming both of you.”

Phantom hisses reflexively, showing his sharp teeth as he lets one of his claws dig into Vlad’s core, and the man winces but otherwise hides his distress at the intrusion. “You can’t keep denying it and hiding the truth from your human half. I know you’re trying to protect him. I know you’re trying to help. But it’s hurting him. He’s confused and upset and scared. You’re leaving his body behind whenever you respond to the intruders in your haunt, as you’ve done here. You risk him being discovered, being captured by the GIW or other ghost hunters who, unlike your parents, would not be willing to try to help you. They would experiment on him, dissect him, and ultimately destroy both of you.” 

“And it’s hurting him physically, too,” says Vlad. “My scans are showing damage to his internal organs and structures. If this continues for much longer, your human half will not survive. It cannot.”

He relaxes his hand, the words coming out in a whisper of echoes and static, of uneasiness and fear. 

Vlad responds quietly in kind, sending an oddly comforting response from a man whose core burns with impossible anger and resentment at the world. “I know you’re worried about how he’ll manage knowing the truth of who he is. But you cannot hide it from him forever, not without destroying him and yourself. Please, child. Allow me to help you be whole again,” he says. 

He withdraws his hand, sending out a questioning burst of noise, of inquiry. Because he doesn’t want Danny to die. He doesn’t want to die. 

“The integration was prevented due to the interference of your family and friends,” he explains, and his Mom flinches. “Our transformation is not meant to have artificial triggers. The use of the AED to resuscitate you, to fill your core with electricity so it can artificially force the ectoplasm within your body to bring you back, has prevented it from fully bonding to your own systems and sending the spark from within itself to revive your human half upon your transformation. You must re-enter Daniel and trigger the change yourself. You must use the energy from your own core, your own essence.”

A soft, pleading whine. 

“You can,” insists Vlad. “More than that, you must.”

He moves from the man, floating over to himself, to his other half, to the part that he misses and aches for every time he leaves to take care of the ghostly threats that intrude on his haunt. Reaching out, Phantom places his hand on Danny’s chest, feeling the absence of breath, the missing life that should be there, and the gentle hum of a fragment of his own core pulsing within, that keeps him whole and alive despite the loss of his spirit even if humans can’t sense it. 

And with a terrified shiver, he pushes himself inside, letting him flow into the body, to not merely overshadow and reattach but become one again as he tries to seek the spark from within his core, tries to connect his spirit and body in full. He’s not sure he can, not without the external boost, and he can feel himself holding back, his worry over how Danny will handle the truth about knowing what he is, knowing that his parents almost certainly hate him and fear him, that his friends will never accept him–

“--focus,” says Vlad, and then he feels someone gripping Danny’s hand and he opens Danny’s eyes, expecting the half-ghost, but it’s not Vlad. 

It’s his Mom.

“Please, son,” she whispers, tears burning in her eyes. “Please.” 

And he mumbles something in response, his aura flickering as he speaks in a language she can’t understand, and he feels her grip Danny’s hand–their hand, his hand–more tightly, trying to reassure him, to let him know he’s okay, he’s safe, that they love him and care about him as he–

–Danny blinks, gasping as he sits up, clutching at his chest. It hurts, like ice and lightning and fire pouring through his veins and he wants to scream even as it feels right, as a bright light passes over him and he shifts, feeling oddly weightless and absent for a moment before they pass over him again and he shifts once more, back to being heavy and human and present. It’s painful and terrifying yet oh so right, and somehow, that makes it worse. 

And he sits for a moment, hand still clutching his chest even as his mother hasn’t let go of his other hand, as his world crashes around him, as he remembers who they are, who he is, what he is. As his memories he’s kept from himself in an effort to protect his human half crash back, slamming into him impossibly hard, moments spent in ghost fights and then burrowing himself inside his own helpless corpse as his friends were forced to endure the burden of caring for him and protecting him, and Danny lets out a keening wail that’s neither human nor ghostly in its sound but some odd blend of the two. 

“I’m a monster,” he whispers, sobbing as his shoulders shake, and his Mom shifts, moving to hold him tightly to herself. 

“Oh, hon,” she says, but no words follow, no gentle affirmations that she loves him, no denials about him being the horrifying creature he knows they’ve seen him as, that they’ve hunted and shot at and threatened to experiment on and–

“It’ll be okay,” she says, interrupting his spiraling thoughts as she strokes his hair. “We’ll figure it out, Danny. I promise.”

Maybe someday he’ll believe her.

#angstfest2023 #danny phantom #dp fanfiction #my writing #everyone knows au #electric core au #if you squint #corpse au even if you don't #I want to edit this and post it to AO3 at some point but that will require coming up with a fic title #Sooooooooo #we'll see

[chaotic-on-main]

Speak Now | ModernAU One-Shot

☾ Based on ➼ Speak Now by Taylor Swift

☾ Pairings ➼ Levi Ackerman x fem!OC

☾ Content/Warnings ➼ fluff, angst, arranged marriage, expletives

☾ Author's note ➼ I heard this song come on while I was driving to work today and I had the biggest inspiration to write this little one-shot. I refused to do anything else. But worry not, I'm currently working on my January chapter for Unspoken Words. I hope y'all enjoy my cheesy thoughts! Also don't @ me I love Taylor Swift and you'll have to pry the entire album of Speak Now from my cold, dead hands for me to stop listening to it. (Also this is written in second person but for my sanity I named the character instead of using y/n because typing that drives me insane)

☾ Word Count ➼ ~2.2k

☾ Inspired by ➼

“Faye, this is a bad idea.” Your best friend, Hange, says from the driver's side.  

“Pft, you’re the queen of bad ideas, I don’t wanna hear it.” You retort back. 

You’re sitting in the passenger seat of Hange’s car which is parked across the street from a very ostentatious chapel. You eyeball the nauseatingly dressed invitees through binoculars as they make their way through large double doors. Knuckles turn white around the barrels as you consider your plan. Was it too much? Maybe. But you decide you don’t care.  

“Well, yeah. But at least my ideas wield good results. This is just downright insane.” They shift in their seat to stare at you incredulously. You put down the binoculars to wave your hands at them dismissively. Pulling your hair up in a quick ponytail, you unbuckle yourself from your seat and tut at her.  

“Who said this won’t? Just keep your phone out of your pocket, I’ll let you know if I need anything.” They just huff at you, exasperated. But they make no move to stop you, so you open the car door and pull yourself out, carefully shutting it behind you. Nervously you pull at your blouse, inspecting the entrances available to you. You spot a couple side doors that were unmanned so you opt for that route, heading to the one on the left. You duck your head to not be noticed as you shuffle past everyone else, your nose is permeated with repugnant perfumes and colognes. After you take a quick look over your shoulder to make sure no one is looking your way, you twist the doorknob to check if it’s locked.  

Click 

‘Oh, thank god.’ You think to yourself as you push on the door gently. Taking a quick glance inside as well as behind you one last time, you slip in and close it slowly behind you. You find yourself in a long, empty hallway with a couple of doors hanging off to the right. A long archway at the end opens up to who knows where. Faint chattering reverberates off the walls as it makes its way down to you. You sigh quietly and start stalking your way down but freeze when you hear loud shrieking coming from one the doors in front of you. It’s slightly ajar so you sneak a peek inside the crack to see a bride, his bride, wearing the most unpleasant gown that reminded you of a pastry. She’s roaring at a bridesmaid who was almost in tears. You see an older woman, her mom you think, is dressed in pastels to match the details of her wedding dress. The mom slaps a tiara out of the bridesmaid’s hand and the poor girl flinches back in surprise. 

“I thought I told you to bring me my bouquet! Where is it!?”  

“I-I’m sorry, I was told to bring you your t-tiara first. I’ll g-go get it n-now.” She stands up straight and starts heading to the door and your eyes widen as you whip against the wall, lying as flat and still as possible. The door flings open and the bridesmaid rushes down the hallway in front of you, not even noticing you. Releasing a breath you held the whole time, you sneak past the door while the bride and her mom are looking away, focused on putting on her sparkling head piece.  

You wouldn’t have to do such a thing if she had not uninvited you in the first place. She had thought you a threat at the very beginning of her ‘relationship’ with him, which thinking back on it and your actions now, is understandable. But she was unbearable, and you thought ‘to hell with family legacies’ because seeing Levi with someone else that couldn’t care less about what kind of floor cleaner was the best brand hurt you more than you could stand. He’s your best friend, she did not deserve any part of him. 

Creeping your way through the rest of the hallway, you pause every once in a while to take note of your surroundings. Every door slam and spoken word makes you freeze. Eventually, you get to the last door in the hallway; it sits partially open, and you glance in. You see him standing in front of a mirror, fixing his signature cravat to his neck with a cold expression across his face. Biting your lip, you slide in the door and shut it behind you carefully. Levi falters at the reflection of your sudden appearance but doesn’t turn around, instead he stares at you with dark, gray eyes and pursed lips. 

“Tch. You shouldn’t be here.” he says dryly.  

“Neither should you. I can’t believe you’re going along with this.” You fold your arms across your chest and stare hard at him. He just sighs, aggravated at this conversation yet again. But his voice is soft. 

“Faye, listen. I don’t have a choice. It’s only business, our families ne-”  

“Cut the shit, Levi. You have a choice, you always have a choice. I don’t care about their business, or even their happiness! I only care about yours. And you are not happy.” you cut him off, tone cold.  

“You don’t know what I am.” His deep timbre turns sharp. He finally turns on you, his eyes flash to yours and you hesitate for a moment before straightening your back to stand your ground.  

“We’ve been best friends since we were children, I know exactly what you are.” He narrows his eyes at you, a scowl framing his face with down-turned eyebrows. He takes a couple steps towards you in a challenge, but you refuse to budge. 

“Oh yeah? Enlighten me then. What am I?”  

“You’re a dick for starters. A complete asshole. You act all tough and mighty but you’re as soft as a marshmallow in there. And you’re loyal, which seems more like a curse than a blessing nowadays. You take orders from those above you even though you hate them. And boy do you hate them.” You take a deep breath and he’s just staring at you with icy eyes.  

“Is that right?” He moves closer to you now, but you plant your feet and stare down at him, unwavering. He’s so close that you can feel his body heat radiating through his black suit.  

“Yes, and you’re so stubborn. You refuse to let go of anything. You’re annoying and yes, you are such a brat sometimes! And you’re cold, you act like nothing bothers you, but I know it does. Because you’re my best friend. I know what you are. And you’re not happy.” You trail off, his eyes boring into yours as you take a shuddering breath. 

“Are you done.” he snaps, his phrase more of a threat than a question. You nod your head and bite the inside of your cheek. As fast as lightning, he raises a hand at you as if to slap your cheek and you flinch back. But instead, he grabs you by your blouse collar and pulls your face down to his faster than you can acknowledge what’s even happening and suddenly his lips are on yours. They’re soft and warm and you find yourself melting into him. But as soon as it happened, it ended just as quickly.  

“Why can’t you just choose what you want? Just be selfish for once.” You whisper down to him after a moment of silence. He lets go of your collar and turns on his heel to the door. He tears it open and then he’s gone without another word. You feel a wetness on your cheeks, and you go up to wipe it away with the back of your hand. When did you start crying? 

Taking deep breaths, you attempt to console yourself. Was this anger or sadness? You couldn’t tell. You feel a vibration in your pocket, and you pull out your phone to see a message from Hange. 

Everything okay? 

No, everything was not okay. Everything hurt.  

Levi was great at many things, hiding his emotions being one of them. But whenever you were around him, his eyes would never lie. And you knew you saw something in them that just screamed for help. And you were not about to back down, not now and not ever again. Levi was not a pawn in someone else’s game, and you were going to free him whatever it took. After sending Hange an ‘okay for now’, you wipe your tears away again and bolt out the door to the sounds of an organ playing a death march.  

“First off, let me say thanks to everyone who has taken a moment out of their day to celebrate the unity between the Reiss and Ackerman families. We are here for the sake of ongoing prosperity and strength for generations to come. This contract is not to be entered into lightly, but thoughtfully and seriously, with a deep realization of its obligations and responsibilities. As well, we hope for not only success for both the future Mr. and Mrs. Ackerman, but also happiness and love. With that, if there are any objections, speak now or forever hold your peace.” The officiant looks around the room with beady eyes. 

The silence is deafening, and it feels like everything is going in slow motion but too quickly at the same time. Standing up from your hiding spot in the back, you raise your trembling hand and clear your throat. Suddenly everyone in the room is staring back at you with horrified looks, including Levi and his bride-to-be. You used to say that you could never surprise Levi, because all of your attempts at jumping out of corners and one-upping him with gifts were futile. But the shock on Levi’s face now was palpable, and deep inside you thought it was delicious. 

“Me, I object!” You pinch your lips together in a thin line, fighting the urge to curl up in a ball in embarrassment. You stare straight ahead at Levi as you make your way to the middle of the petal-filled aisle. Straightening your back, you embrace your resolve.  

“I’m sorry, who may you be?” The officiant inquires, his voice sputtering.  

“I am Faye Dresden, and I’m in love with you, Levi Ackerman.” You see him recoil a little bit, stunned at your boldness.  

“You’re not supposed to be here! Someone throw her out!” The soon-to-be bride shrieks to anyone who will help. But you take a step forward, lick your dry lips, and yell out.  

“Levi, I love you! I loved you when we were six, I love you now, and fuck! I’m going to fucking love you when we’re sixty!” A couple of burly bodyguards start making their way to you and you start to panic but you yell out anyways. “Stop being so selfless and do what you want! No one forces you to do anything, only you get to choose! Please!” A big hand grips your elbow and starts dragging you away, but you fight it anyways. His face is pained and takes a step forward towards you, but then he stops abruptly. You can tell he’s still stuck between his duties and his wishes, and it breaks your heart. You can’t help but howl in frustration as you’re pulled away through the doors.  

“BE SELFISH!” 

As they throw you out of the front doors, you trip over your own feet and fall flat on your ass into the gravel. You flip them off as they shut the doors behind them, hearing the click of a lock.  

“ASSHOLES!” You scream. You hear the crunch of footsteps on rock, and you turn to see Hange walking up behind you, somber concern etched across their face. You stand up quickly and brush off the debris, making sure to wipe your eyes once more before facing your friend.  

“Let’s go home, Faye.” They murmur to you, holding out their hand to you. Blinking back more hot tears, you take the hand and start walking back to the car with them.  

“I tried, Hange. I really did.” You whimper to them as you plop yourself into the seat. Your heart aches, reeling from your failure. Hurting from his pain. They just squeeze your hand before taking it to turn the keys in the ignition. You lean back in the chair and close your eyes while you let your tears fall, streaking down your face and onto your shirt.  

Not even 15 seconds after Hange started driving, she hits the brakes with a jolt, and you’re being choked by your seatbelt. 

“Hange?!” You blink your eyes and look at them, but they’re just staring wide-eyed through the front windshield. Following their gaze, you see a very disheveled Levi. He’s stripped of his black blazer now, white shirt and black slacks waving slightly in the wind. He’s out of breath with a determined look in his eyes. You see him mouth your name. You quickly unbuckle your seatbelt and stumble out of the car. 

“What the fuck, Levi! We could have hit you!” He ignores your outburst and stomps up to you, his short stature almost comical.  

“I don’t care, I’m being selfish.” He growls at you and then pulls you back down to him, his lips smashing into yours again.

#levi ackerman #levi ackerman fanfiction #oneshot #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #snk #modern au #hange zoe #levi ackerman fluff #fluff #angst #romance #attack on titan fanfiction #speak now #taylor swift #levi ackerman x oc #x oc #levi ackerman x you #Spotify

[collecting-stories]

Home Game - Tyler Townsend

Request: no. 

A/N: I’ve been really into Sweet Magnolias again ever since the second season came out so I figured I’d write a little something. 

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

It was a minor league game, $15 a ticket for a good seat, the midsize stadium still using benches instead of fold down seats like a real stadium would. This wasn’t the Braves or the Phillies or some other major team, this was the Riverdogs. 

Your seats were just above the dugout, directly in the sun while it was still out, and you were thankful you’d worn shorts. At least for now, later you’d complain, mostly just to annoy Tyler because you kind of hated baseball and this was the third baseball themed date he’d taken you to in a month. 

Just last week he’d taken you to the batting cages on what he claimed was a date but was really just you watching him practice. Not that you didn’t sincerely enjoy watching him practice just that you wanted something a little more exciting for date night. At least here they had concessions. 

You turned your head away from the game for a second as someone shouted about popcorn and cotton candy, the sound of metal hitting a ball the only thing you caught before the crowd on your side of the stands cheered. Tyler flung an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer as he kissed your cheek, “did you see that? Right outta the park!” 

“That’s gonna be you someday, for the Braves or Cardinals or some other impressive team.” You replied. Baseball dates might not’ve been your thing but you couldn’t deny that you loved the way Tyler’s eyes lit up just talking about a future in Major League. 

“You’ll have to endure a lot more games if I get signed to the Braves someday.” His tone was light, teasing you cause he knew you weren’t the worlds biggest baseball fan, but the implication that you and he would still be together that far into the future wasn’t lost on you. 

“Those’ll be box seats, and like, real big spreads and shit.” You laughed, watching him as he turned his attention back to the baseball game. “And I’ll get to sit around and tell everyone how my boyfriend is a pro baseball player.” 

Tyler’s cheeks tinged the slightest red, contrasting his tan as he kept his eyes on the game, trying to fight the smile that crossed his face. Maddie had been bugging him about bringing you around for a family dinner or even a margarita night, though he definitely wasn’t going to subject you to his mom, Helen, and Dana Sue without some kind of warning. He’d done a pretty decent job of ducking, making excuses for why he didn’t want them to meet you yet, most of the time swearing that this was nothing serious. But Maddie knew he was lying. 

“You can pick the next date,” he promised at the end of the night, as you walked down the ramp to the parking lot, his sweatshirt keeping your upper body warm. Some of the crowd had dispersed after the game ended but you and Tyler hung around for the fireworks even though you were freezing. 

“This was fun,” you admitted, laughing when he gave you a skeptical look. You climbed in the passenger side of the car, fixing the vents so they blew right on your legs, “I just need to remember to wear pants next time.” 

“I told you it was gonna get cold,” he replied. Tyler checked his phone, a text from Maddie telling him to drive safe in response to his letting her know that he was on the way home. 

“I wanted to look cute for you, sue me,” you joked, leaning over the dashboard to kiss him as the line of cars moved slowly out of the parking lot. 

-

“Have they?” Dana Sue raised her eyebrows questioningly as she took a sip of her margarita, sitting around the island in Maddie’s kitchen. Helen snickered as Maddie’s eyes grew wide. 

“God I hope not, Ty won’t even tell me her last name!” Maddie replied, “every time I ask about her he just says ‘it’s casual’ or ‘she’s just a friend’.” 

“I think ‘just friends’ is an understatement, Annie said they got in trouble the other day for some less than appropriate behavior in the hallway,” Dana Sue replied. 

Maddie covered her face for a moment, trying not to laugh. She knew what Kyle told her and he’d said that Tyler was crazy about you. She was doing her best not to push the subject, wanting to give her oldest privacy and let him come to her when he was ready to share. But she was also getting impatient, she wanted to meet you, figure out if you were good enough for her son. She’d asked Cal and Kyle and even Annie a couple times but she felt bad being sneaky like that, collecting information behind Tyler’s back. 

“I’m trying so hard to give him space but I wanna know. I like knowing what’s going on in my kids’ lives!” Maddie insisted just as the door clicked open and then shut. 

She had told Tyler that she was going to be at Helen’s for margarita night and honestly, that had been the plan but then Bill was late picking up Katie and Kyle didn’t feel good and suddenly they were in her kitchen drinking. The house that was supposed to be empty wasn’t and Tyler came walking into the kitchen with you behind him, still wearing his sweatshirt. 

“Mom.”

All three women were sitting there staring at him but, to her credit, Maddie spoke first, “Ty…I meant to tell you, we ended up here tonight.” 

“I can see that.” He replied, looking between them and you, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. 

“I uh, maybe I should…go?” You asked, eyes on Tyler. He might’ve been giving Maddie the runaround but he’d told you from the beginning that he was reluctant to tell his mom he was dating. He told you she made a big deal out of everything and he knew she’d embarrass him and he didn’t want it getting to his dad who would tell him not to get blindsided in the middle of baseball season. 

“No,” he grabbed your hand before you could turn back to the door, “it’s okay, uh, mom…” Tyler took a deep breath and then launched into introductions, his mom and then Dana Sue and then Helen, all three women smiling from ear to ear as he called you his girlfriend. 

“Well it is so nice to meet you sweetheart,” Helen said, getting up to give you a hug, “think I saw you in my law class?” 

“Yeah I was on the jury,” you nodded. 

“So, what did you two have in mind for the rest of the night, hate to think you’d be here all alone when we were supposed to be at Helen’s?” Dana Sue piped in, before Maddie could get to you. 

Tyler flushed and you squeezed his hand, “just gonna watch TV, got a full house so…always kinda noisy at mine. Sorry bout that, Ty didn’t say y’all wouldn’t be around.” You lied. 

Maddie cracked a smile at that, her son’s face a dead giveaway that you weren’t telling the truth about your plans. You looked so convincing though, maybe she shouldn’t have but she liked you already. “Well I’m glad I forgot to tell him I’d be home cause I know he never would’ve brought you around on purpose.” 

“Mom.” Tyler huffed. He’d been dodging questions about you only because he felt like everyone always knew everything and had their noses in everyone’s business. He wanted something that was just his, that he didn’t have to share with anyone else and that something was his relationship with you. When you’d started dating, so soon after he’d broken up with CeCe, he didn’t wanna say anything and now that things were more serious, he felt like he didn’t want everyone in his business.  

“Well it’s nice to meet you,” you replied, “sorry it’s taken this long, I guess. I tend to drag my feet too so,” you shrugged at the end of your sentence, mostly trying to give your boyfriend an out. Something Maddie clearly picked up on as she looked between the two of you.  

“Have your parents met Ty?” She asked, Helen covering her mouth with her hand as she tried not to laugh at the guilty expression on Tyler’s face. He’d met your parents more than once, he’d even been over to dinner a couple of times with your whole family.  

“Uh, once or twice,” you admitted.  

When margarita night was over, and Helen offered to drive you home when you finally said you needed to leave, you sent Tyler a quick text, apologizing for the interruption but assuring him that it was nice meeting his mom. You’d seen Maddie around and Tyler always talked about how great she was so you would’ve been lying if you said you weren’t anxious to actually meet her.  

Tyler would’ve snuck up to his room the minute the front door closed after you if it wasn’t for Maddie calling him back to the kitchen. She been waiting all night to talk to him without her friends around. As much as she loved Dana Sue and Helen, sometimes they didn’t let her get a word in edgewise and she got stuck listening to them parent her kids.  

“So you two are real serious, huh?” Maddie asked, cleaning up the dishes left in the sink as Tyler lingered by the island, not sitting down.  

“Yeah, I guess.” He shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant about it. He wasn’t sure if it was some kind of superstition, that if he said it out loud it would be true and it could go wrong, but he didn’t like talking about it. “We’ve been kinda, hanging out.”

“Kinda hanging out?” Maddie almost laughed, “Ty, she seems like a real sweet kid, maybe you should bump that ‘kinda hanging out’ up to actually dating so she doesn’t think you’re just, not serious.”  

“We already talked about it,” Tyler replied, “can I go upstairs now?”

Maddie sighed and turned around, wiping her hands on a dish rag as she leaned against the kitchen sink, “Ty...I trying real hard not to push you into something that makes you uncomfortable but, I feel like I’m not clued in anymore. Like you got your life and its separate from everyone else’s in this house. I’m not asking you to sit here every night having a heart to heart with me but can we at least be honest and keep each other in the loop with our lives.”

“I just don’t wanna jinx anything,” he admitted, sheepishly, finally taking a seat at the island. “After CeCe and I broke up I wasn’t really upset or anything and I felt like maybe something was wrong with me. Or maybe I was like dad...I could just walk away without feeling anything.”  

“Hey, you are not like that.” Maddie assured, “you are the most caring, thoughtful, person I know Ty.”

“I just,” he shrugged, “she asked me out and I said sure not really thinking it’d be different than CeCe but it is...but this is high school I mean, I don’t wanna stay in Serenity forever and I don’t wanna be that guy who marries his high school sweetheart just cause everyone says we’re so serious and we should.”  

“The only people whose opinions matter in this relationship are yours. I know Serenity can gossip something awful and I know it’s hard not to listen, trust me, but don’t let them tell you how you should be feeling or what the future looks like.” Maddie replied, “if someone makes you happy Ty, if being with them feels good and comfortable and familiar, that's all that matters.”  

Tyler nodded, letting Maddie’s words sink in. He had a lot of plans for the future and he knew that you did too, plans that didn’t fit into that neat little Serenity box that Maddie’s own life had been up until a year ago. But when people talked long term, asked if things were that serious, Tyler always fought the urge to admit that maybe they were. Maybe you wouldn’t settle down in Serenity and spend the rest of your lives running kids to baseball practice and dance lessons but he liked the idea of a future. 

#tyler townsend x reader #tyler townsend x you #tyler townsend x y/n #tyler townsend imagine #tyler townsend fanfiction #tyler townsend fanfic #tyler townsend fic #sweet magnolias imagine #sweet magnolias fanfiction #sweet magnolias fanfic #sweet magnolias fic #collecting stories imagine

[frogsareallgay]

Some days he feels like dying, She gets so sick of crying pt 1/3

- Hey this is my first time posting a fic. I hope y’all like it. it’s a Robby centric Hurt/Comfort because i cannot write anything else atm. Pt 2 will get released tmr because i’m too tired to keep writing lol -

⚠️ ATTENTION!!! MASSIVE TWs FOR SH & SUICIDE ATTEMPT ALSO BL00D AND GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION OF SH. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK⚠️

fic title: Extraordinary Girl by Green Day <3

Johnny

Johnny had been out all day. He was overtired and sore from teaching all day. He eased his car into the driveway of the apartment block. He reached across the seat to lift the 6 pack of Coor’s off the passenger seat and fumbled for his key. 

Once inside he placed the beers in the fridge, taking one out to drink now. He opened it, enjoying the satisfying ‘pshhhh’ sound it made, he lifted the can to his mouth but just as he was about to take a sip he heard a noise.

It was a weird noise and it took him a second to process what it could be. The sound was half way between a whine of pain and a sob. Miguel. Miguel’s hurt. His mind started racing as he stumbled through the house towards his son’s room. 

He burst open the door, ready for whatever mess he was about to see but to his horror, Miguel’s room was empty.

Johnny heard another sound. One that made his stomach drop.

“Dad?”

The word was only barely audible. It sounded tiny and far away. “Shit” he mumbled, walking towards his other son’s room. How could he forget? Miguel was out with Carmen and Yaya. The only other person home was-

“Robby? You good man?”

Johnny found himself standing over his son, who was noticeably disheveled and sitting in the corner of his room, curled in on himself which made him look a lot smaller than he really was. 

“I’m sorry dad”

“Sorry for what?”

“I…”

Johnny took a suspicious step forward. 

“Sorry for what Robby?”

Instead of answering Robby just sobbed. Tears were rolling down his cheeks and staining his pale face. Johnny was taken aback for a moment before kneeling down next to Robby, what had Robby been doing while he was home alone? and was it going to cause him trouble?

He could see Robby closer now. The cuffs of his flannel were sticky and damp with blood and his entire body was shaking so bad he couldn’t keep still.

“Kid……”

“It’s fine. Im sorry for being dramatic. I can deal with it myself. I’ve done it before. Just go.” 

Unconsciously the kid had started digging his nails into his palms. He was feigning calmness but his eyes were wide with panic, even if Johnny hadn’t known him (which he didn’t, really) he could have seen through the façade. Without saying anything he took his son’s hands in his own. He gently pushed the sleeves off his wrists revealing the mess underneath.

Johnny tried not to gag. Robby’s skin was barely visible under the amount of blood that was covering them. There were jagged cuts all the way up his arms, most of them fresh and bloody.  

“You’ve….. Youve done this before? Robby when did this start?”

“I dunno. When I was 10 or something? I’d tell you to ask Mom but she won’t remember.” 

The teen pulled his arms away from Johnny’s hands. He dragged his sleeves back down and leant away from his dad.  

“Just go. I’m fine dad.”

“No Robby you’re not.” Johnny said firmly.

He was starting to get frustrated. 

“God, you’ve been doing this since you were 10?! Honestly Robby are you stupid? Why wouldn’t you say anything? Shannon used to see a shrink who would tell her all that wishy washy find your inner voice bullshit. Isn’t that supposed to help with all this mental health crap? I swear if I had been there-“

“But you weren’t”

“Excuse me?”

“You weren’t there. And even if you had been I doubt you or Mom would have been sober enough to notice”

“Watch your tone. I’m the one who has to help you right now. I don’t have to be doing this Robby.”

Robby laughed

“Damn right you don’t”

Before Johnny could say anything else Robby stood and pushed past the taller man towards the door.

Johnny grabbed his arm. “Where are you going?” “Out.”

Robby stomped through the apartment. His dr martens echoing through the hallway with every step. He threw the front door open to a worried Carmen and a confused Miguel.

“Robby! Hi Mijo, I’m making your favourite tonight. I-“

“Bye Carmen.”

Robby pushed past Miguel and walked down the driveway. Once he reached the street he broke into a sprint. 

#cobra kai #ck #robby keene #johnny lawrence #cobra kai fanfiction #robby keene angst <3 #hurt/comfort #PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE READ TWS ITS KINDA GRAPHIC #robby keene deserves better #jack’s fanfics :D #< new tag for my fics !!!

[somnolentmonster]

My past comes back to me in snippets. I’ll listen to songs and the dread of my past floods to my lungs. Here I am 15. I sit alone in the stalls of the blue bathroom when I’m supposed to be sitting in the lunchroom. I don’t eat lunch but I’m starving. I won’t be the kid who eats lunch in the bathroom stalls if I don’t eat. Instead I just sit. Locked up in the stall all by myself. People had to assume where I was, right? Nobody ever asked. Maybe people just knew that I was the kid who sat in the bathroom during lunch.

My friends now would not have liked me in high school. They laugh with me now about who I used to be and who I’ve become. They say they would’ve been friends with me in high school, but they wouldn’t have. What would they think of me if I told them I was the kid who sat alone in the bathroom during lunch? Would they think less of me? Would they pity me? Would they have let me sit at their lunch table when they found out I sat alone in the bathroom stalls and listened to Creep by Radiohead instead? Would they have offered me a seat? Or would they have been the people who drove me to hiding in the first place?

My past comes back to me in snippets. I smell Bath and Body Works A Thousand Wishes and suddenly it all comes back to me. Here I am 16. I sit in the passenger seat of my mom's GMC Acadia at midnight. She asks me how prom was and I say it was okay. It really was just okay. I see the rest of my friends file into the house for the sleepover I wasn’t invited to. My mom gives me a solemn smile. She knows what I know and I go home feeling empty.

I have more fun in dirty frat basements. I go on benders and make out with strangers and I’ve had so much sex I forgot what it feels like to enjoy it. I’ve given up my body to the experience. My friends call me insane. I am the party girl. Would they think this of me if they knew nobody danced with me at my junior prom? Not even my boyfriend wanted to be my date? Would they call me a party girl if they knew I was never invited to the after party? Would they think less of me? Would they pity me? Would I have been down to hang? Or would they have sent me home shotgun in my mom's SUV in the first place?

I wish I could shut the book. I wish I forgot how to be in pain. I wish I had forgotten how to write. I wish I knew that my friends loved me for me for all of my messy for all of the days I sat in the bathroom stall during lunch for all of the afterparties I wasn’t invited to for all of the days I didn’t exist for all of me for all of me for all of me.

#poet #poems #writing #writers #poem #poetry #poets on tumblr #pieces of my heart #spilled thoughts #spilled ink

[digifandom]

Lol, look what I found in my WIPs. If I remember correctly it's a what if scenario of darkness winning before the digidestined were even called.

It wasn't like it was new.

Takeru closed his eyes, finding no point in staring at the ceiling as the minutes ticked by. That same ghost of a feeling, like that orange guinea pig from his dreams was real, pulled him to stay awake. He knew it wasn't, knew that place was fake.

Yamato had told him over the phone a few years back that he shouldn’t entertain those imaginations. Yet, he admitted he shared similar dreams. There was a difference though, at least he thought there was, afterall his brother never mentioned the painful tearing sensation fleeting across his skin.

"Takeru!" The blond blinked as he heard his mom call his name, he knew he needed to get up, he knew he had to pack. He also needed to call his brother, a task that seemed to be getting harder.

“Takeru!” His mother called again. Takeru blinked again, the world was always blending together lately. “Takeru Takashi! Get out of your room and help me move these boxes!”

Takeru inhaled, finally peeling himself off the uncovered mattress laid on the ground. He grabbed the electric lantern beside him as he stood. It had been a decade since technology turned.

“Beep beep”

Takeru looked at the strange device that lay still on the mattress, covered in dirt and specs of mud. “You’ll have the apartment to yourself now.” Takeru muttered, he had buried the device the night before.

Takeru lifted a stack of three boxes and approached his door. He inhaled deeply, gathering the energy he would need until he was alone again. “Is the trunk open?” He smiled at his mother, the woman pacing the whole apartment.

“Yes, is that all you’re taking?” His mother looked over him briefly, worried over the blond’s three boxes.

“Yup, I put most of my stuff with the moving people.” Takeru moved past her, reaching the door and pushing it open.

“Great, I’m gonna finish up, you wait in the car.” Takeru nodded and made his way to the elevator.

‘It’s been 3 years since I’ve seen Matt. I wonder how he’s gonna feel about me not telling him about the move. Shit he’s totally gonna get pissed, the only question is if it’s gonna be me or mom. At least I get to be with my brother more.’

Takeru got off the elevator as it let out a ding. He placed the boxes on the ground before he opened the trunk.

“HELP!!”

He gasped for air, looking around the car. His mom wasn’t present. Takeru blinked, he was sitting in the front passenger seat.

“Stop…” Takeru closed his eyes as he spoke the words to the invisible evil that has been tearing him apart for the last decade. “Please stop. Please.” Takeru pleaded and put his head down. As he opened his eyes he felt and watched his tears drop onto his lap and the dirty device. “Why won’t you just fuck off?” He brought a hand to wipe his face, forcing back the remaining tears. He’s lasted a decade of this torment, he could last longer.

Takeru made his way out of the car slowly. The world felt unreal, like the parking lot wasn’t a parking lot but instead a tall grass area. He could feel the ghost sensation of blades of grass brushing against him.

“Sorry, was I taking too long?” His mother spoke up upon seeing her dazed son.

“Hmm, oh uh no it’s fine I just thought it would be better if I helped.” Takeru shook off the ghost feelings. The warm weight on his head, the odd scratching against his legs, the cool air that wasn’t even semi present in reality and the easiest of all, the looming sense of danger.

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

The light in the bathroom was flickering, almost as quick as Takeru’s breaths. His lungs refused to work as the burning feeling of his body persisted. There had been some type of dragon-like thing, that orange guinea pig was hurt and without thinking the seventeen year old had covered the small creature with his body.

“It’s not real.” He sobbed as scratched at his arms, looking into the mirror just to confirm his own words.

“Hey are you okay?” Takeru held his breath as he processed the voice talking, a brunette a few months older than him by the name Yagami Hikari.

The blond straightened, he took a deep breath to push away the leftover pain and made his way out of the restroom to face the girl. “I’m fine just…” He trailed off, he’s become so used to making excuses yet he couldn’t think of something to excuse his sudden yelp in class, luckily he cut himself off in time to save him some embarrassment.

“Umm, Takashi-san, do… do you ever disappear…?” Hikari looked at her hands, Takeru studied her face, taking in the noticeable eye bags and somewhat sickly skin.

“Yeah.” Hikari looked up at him with a smile.

“Does it hurt sometimes?” She asked.

“Yeah.”

“But…?”

“But sometimes it hurts so much more when I’m not.” Hikari nodded, understanding the boy's sentiment.

“I know this may be sudden but would you like to come to my house? My parents are at my grandparent’s so it’s just me and my brother. Though Daisuke might come in if he’s not busy.” Hikari grabbed the blond's hands and met his eyes with a hopeful gaze.

“Y-yeah that sounds great.”

Should I finish this?

#digimon #digimon adventure #digimon adventure 02 #fanfic idea #wip

[meandmacats]

Wild dream I had:

I had gotten home for lunch from school(irl it’s summer break) and my dad made Mac and cheese both of my sisters were there(neither of them can leave the school for lunch breaks) and my mom showed up halfway though, reminding me that I had to do the dishes and asking me to do them before I left(did not specify for what). I left and drove for a very short while to end up at a small but packed parking lot. The building I walked to looked like a mix between a small warehouse and a church. I go inside and it’s like a youth church session??(my family has not been your church in years, I haven’t been to a church youth camp thing in longer.) we sit in the pews and there is a big TV in the front instead of a cross. The other kids there just start talking to each other, I don’t really talk(I’m kinda a wallflower irl too). There is notable one(1) boy that is talking louder than the other kids so I listen in. He’s yelling at his friends in his pre-puberty voice about something small, notable not calling them by any names, but rather just generalized nicknames like dude, bro, and man. Suddenly a very loud static noise fills the air and when I look away from the kids, the tv in front of me is filled with static and the room around me, save for the chairs and people, is now an empty field(just grass no actual crops, no roads in sight) we can kinda see the outline of a city(looking back, that is not what my city looks like from far away). The is still static as we watch what appears to be a lot of black sand drop starting somewhere in the city and ending somewhere past us, two long, thin black lines off in the distance both ways, they go over our heads. The sand drops and we all scramble to escape, but none of us and get off the pews in time and the sand lands, not feeling like anything when I touches us. I remember that I have my phone and pull it out only to discover that my screen, along with everyone else’s-even the tv’s- is now displaying an unknown person with blown hair, middle-part, a long face, and average facial features. They begin to talk about how amazed we must be at their technology and low key try to force us to vote them for president or we won’t get use of out electronics back. They continue their speech talking vaguely about their start up ,and more in depth about their tick tok account and their run for presidency. At this point, I think this is just the stupidest thing they could have done. Most of the kids and I begin to laugh at this person so hard that tears begin to form in my eyes. The only kid not laughing is the blonde kid from earlier. After their message ends, everyone gets up to go home, some people stay to talk to their friends a bit first, but I and quick to leave. The blonde kid is behind me, speaking to me like he knows me, standing up, o can see that I am at least a foot taller than him. He starts trying to talking to me, calling me dude man, and gentleman?? When I looked over questioningly, he asks me what I thought of the broadcast. Before I can answer, he states that he thought it was really cool and begins to ramble to me about how he will be voting them for president. For whatever reason this leaves me feeling very disturbed, so I pull out my keys, head to the parking lot and claim that I got to go. He walks away. I click the lock button on my car so I can see the lights.(I noticed in the dreams that the sound my car makes is a lot louder than the sound my real car makes).By now, the sun has begun to set. I don’t see it, so I unlock the car and lock it again.I see the lights and am on my way, unlocking the car. When I get inside, I can see my family inside my car. My mom is in the drivers seat, one of my sisters is in the passenger seat, and my other is sitting directly behind the first in the back. I join her in the back. I’m confused, but I reason that they just have used my spare keys to get in to surprise me. We’re kinda making small talk, when my mom asks if I did the dishes before I left. When I told her I didn’t have time, she says nothing. (1/2)

#dreamcore

[wormstacheangel]

Happy Birthday, Bec ( @chocolatecakecas)! Have some momma Dean and Daddy Cas get together :)

wc: 2.5k

Dean holds the preschool’s scrunched-up flyer in his hand before letting out a heavy sigh. He never thought he would ever celebrate Mother’s Day again, and he especially never thought that he would be the mother who would be celebrated.

He begged Cas not to make him do this, but it wasn’t Cas who he was afraid to disappoint.

Dean stuffed the paper back into his pocket before walking over to the front office to check-in for this Muffin with Mom event. He talked to the school beforehand to check if it was okay for him to show up to this event, but they already knew he was ‘Momma’ to Jack, so they saw it coming. Of course, they did but Dean sure as fuck didn’t.

He walks into the office and follows the signs that lead outside to the big grass area that transformed from a play area to a nicely decorated picnic area. Everything was pink, from the flowers to the plastic table cloths, but it didn’t feel too overwhelming because they were outside. His eyes spotted the small photo op area, and he couldn’t wait to get some cute pictures of him and Jack so Cas can add to his album.

At least that would be worth the embarrassment.

Dean joined some of the familiar faces of the sea of ladies that crowded the classroom doors—waiting for the kids to be let loose and get this party finally started. He smiles and waves at them, knowing them from pick up and playdate parties at their homes.

Dean and Cas know they can never host one at their home in the lakehouse cause while the outside has invisible warding, the inside looked like a crazy person lived in there. It was a heavily warded place that hides them for a good few miles to any supernatural monster— angels included, so it’s a good thing Cas knows how to use google maps or he would always skip their street— but the inside Jack was free to let his wings out and practice his powers.

“Okay!” He looks up to see Jack’s classroom open up. “Go find your Moms!”

He walks closer, seeing little rugrats running past him, and crouches until he meets the gaze of his little angel. “Hiya, bud!”

“Momma!” Jack shouts as he sprints to him and then jumps into Dean’s arms, almost knocking him back with his strength. Jack snuggles into Dean’s shoulder as he wraps his arms around his neck, staying locked in place as Dean stands up.

“Why are you surprised? Told you I was gonna come.” Dean rubs his hand up and down his back as they follow the group of moms to line up for the food. Other classes start to open up, and Dean at least wanted something to damn snack on while he’s here.

“I know.” Jack pulls back and presses Dean’s cheeks together with his little hands, and luckily with none of his strength. “I was just scared.”

“Why?” Dean asks with puckered lips.

“Cause,” Jack sighs before leaning back down to rest his head on Dean’s shoulder. His tiny fist is holding the collar of his jacket in a tight grip. “I know you’re not a Momma like the other Momma’s.”

Dean’s stomach drops at the words.

He quickly got out of line and went inside his now empty classroom so they can talk. Dean hates these tiny chairs, but he sat down anyway, hoping it won’t break from under him, before pulling Jack away to face him.

“Jack,” He was stubborn, but a little tickling always did the trick. Dean takes Jack’s face in between his hands so he would look at him. “I am not like the other Momma’s, but I am still yours. That’s why I’m here, right?”

Jack nods, a small smile on his face that was a carbon copy of Cas’s own.

“I better be, cause I heard you owe me a muffin!” Dean leans forward to gently bite Jack’s cheek, who giggles and screams while he pushed Dean away with child strength.

“Stop! Momma!” Jack laughs before Dean showers his face with kisses so that he could see the pout leave and a bright grin appear. One that made Dean love life so much more than he ever thought he could.

“Love you.” Dean places a final kiss on Jack’s nose. Only for Jack to copy him and repeat, “Love you.”

They went back outside and had to go to the back of the line, but with Jack in his arms, he was perfectly content. He loves hearing his little four-year-old ramble on while telling a story.

When they got their food—a muffin and some damn apple juice, he’s going to have to take Jack to lunch after this—they went to sit at a crowded table that was calling for Dean to join them. Usually, everyone enjoys Cas’s company a lot more than his, but right now, they had Dean to play with, and he didn’t mind getting the attention of all the milf’s in school.

He sat down in the middle of the table with Jack on his lap so Dean can make sure his kid at least eats a bit of the muffin before running around with the rest of his friends. The whole mommy and me event just became a big chance for mommy’s to gossip, and he couldn’t help but wanna be a part of it.

They were all talking about a Mom who didn’t show up and instead sent the babysitter when Jack finally got inpatient and ran off to play with his friends. When Jack was out of earshot, all eyes fell on Dean when he stuffed almost half a muffin in his mouth. He looks at them with raised eyebrows, asking them a silent, “What?” as their smiles spelled trouble for Dean.

“We heard from the secretary that you and Castiel aren’t together...together.” Liz whispers the last word as she leaned closer to him.

“That’s not a secret.” Dean swallows the rest of the muffin and finishes off the apple juice. “Cas and me are friends.”

“Really?” Carmen sat back in her chair, looking as if the universe didn’t make sense anymore. All eyes fell on Liz again, as if she was chosen to be the ring leader to ask all these questions.

“But you guys talk about each other like—I was gonna say like I talk about my husband, but that’s not true. I complain more than anything, but you two are always--you’re like a team. Like an actual team! And the way--the way you look at each other!”

“Okay,” Dean clears his throat, feeling his face heat up. “I don’t know what you are getting at, but Cas and I are best friends. We’re just raising his kid together. My brother helps too. It’s not-It’s just not like that with us.”

“But, do you want it to be?” Carmen leans in again, and Dean looks around at the milf’s that thought Cas and him were a married couple. “Cause it kinda looks like you want it to be.”

Dean opened his mouth to answer defensively cause, of course, he didn’t. He was perfectly fine living his domestic life with Cas and Jack. Maybe they were not a traditional family, but there was no damn way they would ever be with ⅔ of the family being celestial beings. Still, going to bed alone was getting harder each night. The longing stares have become heavier, and all the missed opportunities were starting to weigh on him.

He wanted so much more, but how can he ask for that when this is already the happiest he has ever been and the happiest he has ever seen Cas. He can’t risk making it awkward by expressing his feelings that may not be reciprocated. That’s fucking embarrassing for one, but Dean also didn’t want to risk losing the closest thing he has ever gotten to having a family of his own.

“It’s not that simple.” Dean finally groaned as he ran his hand through his hair. “Things are complicated between us.”

“Well, uncomplicate them!” Liz hits his arm to grab Dean’s attention before he falls back into his head.

“Mommy! Come watch me on the swings!” One of the kids call for them, and all the rest of the kids came running over, Jack included. But by the look of Jack’s face, Dean can tell the superhearing was working perfectly fine.

“Come here, bud.” Dean opens his arms, and while the rest of the mothers got up to watch their kid play, Jack stayed curled up in Dean’s arms as they finish their muffins together.

“Momma?”

“Yeah, bud?”

“We’re a real family, right?”

Dean presses a kiss to Jack’s hair. “Course we are, Jack. Me and your Daddy love you.”

“And you love each other?” He looks up at Dean with those same piercing blue eyes and curious look that he found so fond in Cas.

“Always have.” Dean quickly answers as he squeezes his kid. “Now eat so we can take some pictures.”

Dean ends up taking Jack home, with the preschool arts and crafts presents in the passenger seat, because maybe Dean does have to get his head out of his ass. Cause Dean knows Cas loves him. Was it the same kind of love Dean felt? Who knows? But they are going to find out.

“We’re just gonna pick up Daddy and go out to get some real food in you. Got it, bud?” Dean looks over at the rearview mirror to see a thumbs up and an excited grin.

“Got it, Momma!”

When Dean parks the car outside, he told Jack to wait in the car—the kid can turn on the car and play with the radio with his mind, he’ll be fine— while he went inside to tell Cas to get ready.

“I’m home!” Dean called out as soon as he was in the house and then hears an “In here!” coming from the bathroom. He walks in to see Cas was under the bathroom sink, all the cleaning products spread around him, probably fixing that leak that was bothering him so much.

“Hey,” Dean kicks him gently to get his attention before crouching beside him. “Go get ready. I have Jack in the car; let’s go have some lunch.”

Cas scooted out from under the sink, and when he sat up, his face was only inches away from Dean’s own. He looked utterly unphased from being so close while Dean’s breath hitched at feeling Cas’s sigh touch his lips.

“I don’t even eat, Dean.” Cas wipes his hands on a towel before pushing himself up to stand. Dean took a shaky breath before he stands up too. “And why did you take Jack from school so early?”

Dean follows Cas out of the bathroom and into Cas’s bedroom, “You eat sometimes and cause I wanted to have some family time.” Dean sits at Cas’s bed as he watches the angel change into a clean shirt, his back muscles as beautiful as usual. “And I just, I think we should talk.”

Cas turns around to look at Dean with a curious head tilt. “About?”

Dean stood up to slowly walk over to Cas, not meeting his eyes, as he whispers, “Us.” Dean can see Cas start to look panic at the word, and before Cas could say anything, Dean leans forward to press his lips at the corner of Cas’s mouth. “I wanna know how you feel about us.”

Cas stood wide-eyed as Dean pulls away. He waits for an answer, but the angel was just staring at him with fingers twitching to reach and hold something. Dean took Cas’s hand and twined their fingers together; hopefully, that is what Cas wanted.

“I know we’re just playing pretend here,” Dean continues as he looks down at their hands. “But I’m tired of playing, Cas. I want, fuck okay, shit, I just-- I want to-I want,”

“Yes?” Cas leans in closer, urging Dean to continue, but Dean wasn’t sure he could, so he looks up to see Cas lick those soft lips.

He knows he wasn’t good at using his words, but he has always been good at showing, doing, so he lets out a quiet, “Fuck it.” Before letting actions speak.

His free hand went to the back of Cas’s neck to hold him as their lips crashed together. Dean knew Cas could pull away whenever he wanted with his angel strength, but he also knew Cas was letting Dean take the lead in this. Letting Dean push him up against the dresser and kiss him with panic but also so much love. Cause he loves him. He loves Cas. He was so fucking in love with him that it drove him crazy at times, but he couldn’t imagine doing this domestic life with anybody else.

“I love you.” Dean finally breaths against Cas’s lips. It overwhelmed him to finally have those words said aloud while Cas’s hands were burning his skin from under his shirt, but it also made him feel lighter. To say the words he wanted to scream. “I love you so much, Cas.”

Cas’s grip loosened for a second before it tightened, and Dean took that opportunity to open his eyes to look at him. To read the unreadable.

He leans back to see Cas’s baby blue’s water.

“Cas?”

Cas responds with a few blinks, tears falling freely now, as his expression softens at his name. “Yes?” One of Cas’s hands reached to slowly caress Dean’s face as if trying to see if this was real. If Dean was real.

“Kinda pouring my heart out here, buddy, maybe wanna respond?” Dean turns his head just enough to press a kiss to Cas’s palm, hearing Cas let out a small gasp.

“I’m confused. This morning you left telling me you were gonna kick my ass for sending you to the preschool, and now,” Cas leans forward, slowly and hesitantly, but Dean didn’t move. He closes his eyes and waits until their lips met again. Feeling his heart pound and breath catch as the kiss was softer this time. His head flooded with so much want, but Cas quickly pulls away as he continued, “And now I can do that.”

“Yeah,” Dean’s eyes flutter open as he clears his throat. “Yeah, Momma had a little push from the milf’s this morning, and I just realized that I want— I want you. I want us to be together like a real family. Cause I love you and-and, it would be nice if you fucking said it back sometime soon.”

Cas laughs a low chuckle that made Dean’s toes curl as he leans forward again to press their noses together. “I love you too, Dean.”

“Took you long enough.” Dean was going in for another kiss, but the car horn made them both jump. “Shit, our kid still in the car.”

Dean leaves a kiss on Cas’s cheek, feeling more intimate than the last few kisses. “Get ready. I’ll wait for you in the car.” Dean didn’t meet Cas’s eyes as his blush rose to his cheeks.

Tag List: hello this is long enough to tag you guys :)

@tearsofgrace @nguyenxtrang @smiledean @chocolatecakecas

@blue-eyed-cutiepatootie @shelikestv @spicyspiess @icefire149

@archervale @starlightcastiel @sierraxnevada

@lexies-obsessions-and-memes @castiel-is-a-cat @slipper007

@belacoded @takemetotheworld @imlivingliferightnow

@celestialcastiel @manifestingdestiel @sinnabonka

@confusedisaster @wikiangela @carryonwaywardsquirrel

@my-people-skillls-are-rusty @thefaeriemagic3 @wigglebox

@im-sam-fucking-winchester @becky-srs @thefantasyfiend

@deanwinchesterstentaclefetish @achillestiel @sarahblakenatural

@likepurplemuses @marichankitty @castielkrushnic @bestiegirlboss

@martymar1963 @destielfactory @mjthehumandisaster

@misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @destielskygalaxypalace

@trasherasswood @s-r-clowns @eshaninjer

@readeroftheimmortalbooks

#i see this as a baby jack truthing and this is set in s13 lol idk why #cas lives and dean lives and they are just in hiding living domestic lives in the lakehouse #also dean is momma cause frog #hope you like it bec! #destiel #dadstiel #dad!dean #kid!jack #fic #destiel fic #first kiss #wormstachewrites #my writing #deancas fic #spn #supernatural

[cades-outsider]

Demetri X Reader *SMUT*

Warnings: Smut, talking about smut that leads up to smut!

Intoxicate Me

  Your best ability was getting along with everyone, you even got along with Tory and that's saying a lot. You weren't overly popular but you getting along with everyone pretty much made you well known in school.

  Your boyfriend, Demetri definitely was not the easiest to get along with. Yeah he was nice, but he could talk way to much and over complicate things.

He could also tend to over smart people, which from the bully's point of view they hate. It was as normal as any other day for you, school being the first.

You didn't dislike school but sometimes it could be annoying and Demetri would help you get through the day. Ever since Eli, Demetri's best friend joined Cobra Kai and became Hawk; Demetri only really had you around and he intended to keep that, but sometimes he did get very insecure.

Like today, you noticed how Demetri was acting towards you. He was very distant and if he said anything to you it was just a mumble of words or something. It honestly made you feel hurt, you knew there had to be a reason for his behavior because nobody does something for nothing.

It was now your last class, which you had with Demetri. You walked in the room, your eyes immediately landing on Demetri. Your seat was right beside him, you hesitated at first but then decided you could not; not sit with your adorable boyfriend.

It wasn't unusual to see Demetri here before most other students, I mean the teacher wasn't even in yet. I checked the clock and giggled at the fact that he was indeed 15 minutes early.

Demetri looked up at the familiar sound, you slowly walk over to the seat next to him; allowing him to have time to tell you if he didn't want you to sit beside him. He never spoke, just kept his eyes on you following your every move.

"Hey, early bird" You joke, trying to enlighten the mood.

A small forced small makes his way across his lips, making you internally frown. "Demetri.... I don't want to sound pushy, but what's wrong?" You ask worried.

He sighs "I don't want to talk about it right now" He discards.

You nod your head, understandingly "okay... well hey um you can come over to my house; after school- and we can maybe watch Harry Potter?" You question, trying to stir the tension.

He just simply nods his head a yes before slouching in his seat, you doing the same as you both wait for the teacher to arrive first.

  Throughout the course of the class, you couldn't focus on what the teacher was saying. You were to busy focused on your boyfriend and taking side glances at him. Some were admiring glances, some were worried glances, and some were- not so innocent glances and thoughts.

  Though one thing you were thankful for was that the class only lasted for 45 minutes and that time passed by in a flash. Soon the bell rung, kids scrambled to grab there belongings and rushed out of school; tired.

  You however waited with Demetri while he gently put everything neatly in his bag. Purposely rummaging in your back pack for; nothing.

  You got up and walked in-front of Demetri's desk after he zipped up his back pack you took it and slung it around your shoulder, holding your hand out for him to take.

  It was a couple seconds before he took your hand, those couple seconds he stood staring at your hand debating on if he should take it.

  Finally he decided, and slipped his hand in yours intertwining your hands together. You both walked to your car, Demetri texted his mom minutes previously that he was staying the night at yours which she agreed to.

  You say both your back packs in the back seat of your car as Demetri got in the passenger side and you cranked up your car.

  Not going to lie, the ride was awkward. Usually you both would talk about Harry Potter until you both got to your house. Instead Demetri sat his arm on the door and rested his head on top.

  You didn't want to push anything so you stayed silent until you reached your house. You decided to leave your backpacks in the car since you'll both just go to school tomorrow and it would be easier access.

  You walk into your house, leading Demetri in the kitchen to grab a bunch of snacks for your Harry Potter marathon. You both walked in your room and you placed the snacks on your bedside table and turned to Demetri who stood there awkwardly.

  You place your hands in your back pocket; a nervous habit you found yourself doing as you slowly walked in-front of Demetri grabbing his hand and leading him to your bed.

  He sat criss-cross-apple sauce next to you as you did the same, getting comfortable, you moved to sit in front of him. Both your legs touching "will you talk to me? Please" You beg softly.

  "I just feel like you could do better than... than this!" He says making hand gestures down his body.

  You furrow your eyebrows "what do you mean?" You ask genuinely confused, because to you he was beautiful.

  "My Physics is not the best looking, not the strongest! I'm not in Cobra Kai, and I certainly don't have abs! I'm not as strong and I'm a loser!- But you, you are beautiful and I don't understand why you're with me!" Demetri starts pouring out his heart, almost breaking down.

  "Demetri... no, no, no baby. Don't think like that-" You start to say before he interrupts you.

  "How can I not? When I'm nothing but a- lizard-" He starts before shaking his head "-uh sorry wrong animal" he says as you giggle placing your hands on his cheeks, straddling his waist.

  "Demetri please don't think like that, you are perfect for me. You're my person and you're very much handsome" You praise as his breathing catches in his throat.

  The closeness and how you were rubbing up against him was not helping "but I'm n-not as experienced" He says gulping.

  You furrow your eyebrows confused at first until he speaks up "Come on Y/n, what do you call a nun in a wheelchair... Virgin Mobile that's what I am" he says seriously before squinting his eyes at his own joke in confusion.

  You couldn't help but giggle at that dumb yet corny joke you have never heard before. None the less you run your finger over the bottom of his lip "that makes you even more perfect for me" You say almost seductively, as you came back down from your fit of giggles.

  Demetri's eyes widen at that comment "are- are you? Have you done-?" He questions being careful with his words, trying to forget about that awful joke.

  You sigh "I have, once though. So no I'm not a virgin" You mumble.

  He gulps "o-oh um would you want to be Mobile-ness?" Demetri asks, cranking up another joke.

  You smirk almost, as another small giggle leave your lips "yes, but only if and when you're ready" you state, rubbing his jawbone.

  "Are you- do you just want me for sex?" He mumbles now becoming serious, causing you to raise your brows.

  "What?- of course not Dem, I- I love you" You admit.

  "I love you too, Y/n" He smiles softly.

  "I'm ready, I want to loose it to you Y/n" He admits truthfully.

  "Are you sure?" You question, making sure he's 100% ready.

  He nods his head, and looks away bashfully "I'm just- I'm just afraid I won't please you that's all" Demetri comments.

  You smile "How about I take the lead, and once you feel comfortable you can go as hard as you want on me?" You ask.

  A not so small blush covers his cheeks as he nods his head "okay" He agrees.

You push him back gently on your bed, his head hitting the pillow gently. You run your hands over his chest admiring his soft skin. You lean down and press small kisses on his neck, searching for his sweet spot.

You place a kiss above his jawline behind his ear causing him to whimper you smirk as you knew you found his weakness.

You tug on the bottom of his green shirt that says 'I'm silently correcting your grammar' asking for permission to which he nods as he lifts up allowing you to pull the shirt off his body.

You grind your hips against his now harden cock causing him to whimper at the amount of friction. "You're so perfect" You mumble into his skin as you place kisses anywhere you can reach, marking him as yours.

  You run your hands down his chest until you get to his pants, crawling downwards you place kisses as you become eye to eye with his bulge in his pants.

  "Can I?" You question softly.

  Demetri nods eagerly as his eyes become glossy from the amount of pleasure he's already receiving. Unzipping his jeans you pull his pants down, discarding them on the floor.

Before you pull down his boxers you tug at the hem of the fabric, wanting to make extra sure he was ready. "Yes Y/n, please" He begs, as he starts to pant.

You pull his boxers down, causing his hard on to slap against his abdomen. Slipping his boxers all the way off completely you throw them in the pile with his clothes.

Not wanting him to be the only one naked, you slip off your pants throwing them in the floor along with your shirt; and bra.

  Demetri's eyes widen as he scans over your beautiful features, you smile bashfully as you get back on your knees and take his cock in your hands causing him to moan.

  You pepper little kisses around the tip of his cock, you decided to stop teasing and slowly pump his cock now kitty licking the tip.

  "Oh my..." He gasps as you finally take his hard cock in his mouth, stroking what you couldn't fit.

You move your hands to his hips and push his hips up into your mouth, causing him to moan and arch his back as he grabs ahold of your hair.

"Oh Y/n I'm think- I'm-" He starts but he doesn't get to finishes as he cums down your throat with a whimper, you prepared for him to cum faster since it was his first time so you pulled up at the right moment as you sucked his tip swallowing his cum.

After he comes down from his high while you peck the tip of his cock "perfect" you mumble as you do so causing Demetri to swoon.

  By then Demetri was so intoxicated by you that he pulled you up and flipped you over pushing your back into the sheets as his hands wandered any place he could touch except the one place you wanted him to touch the most.

  You moan as he takes your nipple in his mouth sucking and licking all the right places on your chest, creating marks; his marks.

He peppers kisses all down until he gets to your hips, he tugs on the hem of your underwear looking up at you for consent to which you nod becoming hot and heavy.

He waists no time in pulling them off, spreading your thighs and admiring everything about your beauty.

"You are so beautiful" Demetri says placing a kiss on your nub.

You moan as you arch into him, begging for more physically to which he caves and places his lips around your clit sucking and licking. He was eager to taste you and he definitely loved every bit of it as he pressed his mouth farther on your clit swirling his tongue in circles on your clit and sucking gently.

You bring your hand down to his brown locks and run your fingers through it, only tugging when he would speed up his pace on licking and nibbling on your clit which felt all to good.

"Oh Demetri..." You moan, finally giving him what he wants as he slips two fingers into your heated core getting you ready for him.

"I- cu-" you start to say but before you could you cum arching your back as he gets you off.

He comes up from beneath your thighs, lips dripping with your cum as he sucks his fingers off licking all around his lips tasting you "you taste amazing" he hums as a blush appears on his face, though he hovers over you placing a gently kiss to your lips.

He places the tip of his yet again harden cock at your entrance "May I?" He asks looking in your eyes for any discomfort, you nod your head yes.

He slowly slips his cock into you, stopping once he stuffs you full of every inch of him mostly to calm him down before he would cum already.

After adjusting to his size you roll your hips against his letting him know you were even more ready for him. He slowly moved in and out of your pussy giving him time to adjust to his movements.

Adjusting himself, he sits up on his knees and lift your thighs up slowly building up the pace causing you to moan gently with every hard or fast thrust.

You already found yourself about to cum which didn’t help when Demetri started rubbing your clit with his thumb causing you to whimper as the pleasure starts to burn but in the best way possible.

"Oh my... Demetri~" You whimper as you run your hands up against his chest as he speeds up his pace causing his cock to hit your sweet spot inside you causing you to moan louder.

Another side to Demetri starts to tear through that he didn’t knew he had "so that’s where it is?" He smirks as he purposely rams his cock into you hitting your sweet spot dead on causing your eyes to roll in the back of your head.

"You make me feel so good D-" you praise as the rope in your stomach starts to burn, with one final thrust he hits your sweet spot again causing you both to cum together. Your juices mixing together overfilling as they start to spill out of you.

Demetri whimpers as he starts to ride out both of your highs, he slowly pulls out and lays down breathless as do you.

"Wow that was-"

"Amazing..." Demetri interrupts as he starts catching his breath.

"You’re so perfect to me Demetri" You reply causing him to blush.

"As are you my love"

_______________________________________________

Thank you for requesting @peachymelon69 I hope you enjoyed!

#miguel diaz #daniel larusso #eli moskowitz #robby keene x reader #the karate kid #lawrusso #hawk imagine #cobra kai imagine #cobra kai x reader #hawk x reader #demetri x reader #x reader #smut #cobra kai smut #warning #mature #beware #readwithcaution #reader #smut x reader #request #requests #requested

[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.”

#bts smut #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #kim namjoon #bts x reader #rm #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts christmas au #bts angst #bts fluff #bts wrapped together

[baby-bearie]

the 7 ways he’ll tell you he loves you

(NOT MY GIF ALL CREDIT TO OWNER)

jj maybank x reader

taglist: @snarkystarkey @sunflowermotel @howdyherron @drew-starkey @maraseavey @outerbanqs @yelyahryan @obxwriterfan @avashroom @rewindlr @raekenliar @imsad05 @ceruleanjj @dolanfivsosxox @heyhargrove @lashtonandmalumsbaby @beautyandthebleh @pancahke @outrbank @johnbsflowr @corleigh @poguemacking @maybe-maybanks @katie-avery @5sos-seavey

a/n: this is unedited, so sorry about the mistakes. i saw a lot of trouble going around with plagiarism on wattpad and i did report a lot of books with stolen fics and props to you guys for getting a few actually taken down!! plagiarism and theft of intellectual property is HURTFUL, writers put SO MUCH into their work, and it’s not so you can get some votes on a wattpad page. also, boys using lovely as a nickname is ;alsdjffenve. 

How long is forever supposed to be? Months? Years, decades, lifetimes? Forever was supposed to be you and JJ. 

Forever feels like the 15 minutes that he’s been fighting you for. 

“Y/n, I don’t get why you’re turning this into such a big deal.” 

“Stop doing that. Stop acting like I don’t get to be mad. I do! I am! You know, you always do this JJ.” “I do not.” “You do. I’m sick of it. I’m- I’m sorry, JJ, but I’m done. I don’t wanna do this anymore,” you sniffle. You refuse to cry. Not in front of him. “We’re going in circles, I really think it’s time to, to just call it quits.” You shrug. JJ is silent. You wait, you yourself need to process what just came out of your mouth. 

JJ is on the couch. He leans on his knees with his elbows and his head is hanging low. He nods. Slowly at first, then quicker. 

“Okay,” he sighs, “You’re right. You’re right.” You nod, relieved that he agreed with you. A bigger part of you was upset that he agreed with you. It would’ve been nice if he had put up some kind of a fight. 

“So, uh, I’ll go.” “Yeah.”

You collapsed onto the couch, rubbing a hand over your face. A brightly colored magazine was open on the coffee table in front of you. Cheetah printed bold letters spelled out a headline: 

The 7 Ways He’ll Tell You He Loves You.

Talk about bad timing. You flipped the cover back over it. 

#1: He’ll flat out tell you. 

“You know, you’re one of the dumbest boys I’ve ever met.” “Right back at you.” JJ grinned up at you. “Oh, low blow, dude.” You laughed, tackling him down onto the bed. JJ fell back with a loud oof, the breath knocked out of his stomach. 

“One day, you’ll do that and I won’t get up, you know that? You’re actually going to be the death of me.” “Oh, I hope so. I’m already sick of you.” “This is literally you confessing to my murder.” He laughed, shoving you off him so he could hover over you instead. “They won’t arrest me, I’m too cute.” You gave him a cheesy smile. 

“That you are,” JJ smirked, leaning down to press soft kisses into the skin between your jaw and your neck. You hummed in approval as he pulled away. You fiddled with the necklace which dangled from his neck. “I love you,” he muttered. 

“ ‘Til I murder you?” 

He pecked your lips. “Til you murder me.” 

He couldn’t have fought for you? Put up some sort of argument? This was a stupid battle to pick with yourself. You were the one who instigated the break up.  

Maybe you weren’t expecting him to actually agree with you. You weren’t expecting him to let you end things.

#2: He’ll protect you. 

“Maybank, I swear to god, if you don’t get us down from here right now I will throw your ass off this cliff.” “It’s really not that high up!” “Holy shit!” You yelped and turned to bury your face in JJ’s chest. He instinctively wrapped his arms around you. 

“Hey, you’re okay, alright? You’re okay. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you. I got you. It’s okay, I got you.” JJ assured you, laughing a little through his words at how tightly you were clutching his tank top. 

The next couple of weeks hurt like hell. It’s a sad process, trying to leave behind someone you were rooted to so deeply. You’d see him at parties or even just out on the street sometimes. 

His eyes always followed you. When you were dating, you were amazing at being able to tell when JJ was watching you.  A shiver used to run over your spine, and you’d turn and immediately meet his eyes. He’d smirk and raise his hand to salute you. 

God, how you missed that smirk. 

Apparently, after you stopped dating, your body never forgot what it felt like when his eyes were on you. These days, when you turned to look at him his eyes were intense. He held your eyes for a second. One second when you could forget how you cried and how he left without kissing  you goodbye. 

Then he looked away. 

#3: He thinks of you when you’re not with him. 

“Hey, baby, look at this.” JJ threw the door to the Chateau open and marched over to you. His smile was proud, like a child trying to impress his mom. He stuck out his hand and dropped a small square magnet into yours. You flipped it over to see the front. 

It was brown and painted badly to look wooden. There were two u-shaped magnets painted on as well, and it read, ‘I can’t help but be attracted to you’. You read this out loud and JJ grinned, ecstatic with his choice.

 “Where did you get this?” You snorted. “It was at some cheesy gift shop. It made me think of you so I had to buy it.” “It’s perfect. I love it.” You stood to kiss his cheek and slid the magnet onto the fridge. “You’re very welcome.” 

JJ has always been nearly unreadable. He’s scarily good at hiding his thoughts and feelings from everyone around him, often including his best friends. You knew John B at least had some knowledge of JJ’s emotions, but you doubted the rest of the group did. 

You had at least managed to make a couple cracks in the hard walls he had built up around himself. 

#4: He shows you his emotions. 

You gaped in awe at the bruises littering his torso. You had no idea just how bad it was. You had no idea why he never told you. 

“I can’t take him anymore, Y/n, I can’t take it- can’t do it anymore.” JJ sobbed, his arms tightening around you. You guided his head down to your shoulder. 

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, J. C'mere.” You took a deep breath. You would not cry. Not when he needed you to be strong. “Let it out. You’re okay now.” You locked eyes with John B, terrified.

His tears soaked the skin on your shoulder and the first of many that night fell into his hair. 

But since the breakup, from what you saw of him you couldn’t get anything. His face was expressionless every time you made eye contact with him.You had seen him smile at his friends once or twice, but nothing real. JJ was very good at fake smiles. They looked nearly identical to his real ones. But you loved him for long enough to know what a real one should look like. 

#5: He’ll try and make you laugh. 

“Why are you sad, lovely? Stop it, I hate seeing you sad.” JJ pulled you on his chest, brushing hairs out of your face. You shook your head, tucking your face into his chest. 

“Ok. Fine. You leave me no other choice.” JJ sighed loudly. “What do you call Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson when he tells time?” 

He waited a second for an answer that never came. “Dwayne ‘The Clock’ Johnson.” 

You laughed abruptly, but it came out as a sob. You didn’t lift your head. 

“Alright, you want more, fine. What do you call Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson when he won’t shut up? Dwayne ‘The Talk’ Johnson. What do you call Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson when the doorbell is broken? Dwayne ‘The Knock’ Johnson. What do you call Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson when he wears comfortable, breathable footwear? Dwayne ‘The Croc’ Johnson.” 

Your whole body was shaking with uncontrollable laughter now. You were certain that JJ had been practicing those at some point. 

“No more, no more, please,” You finally lifted your head and JJ wiped away a fallen tear with his thumb. You choked on a laugh. “So how long did it take you to come up with those?” 

JJ frowned. “What do you mean, I came up with those like just now!” He laughed.

“Okay, sure, JJ.” “Don’t test me, I have like, 8 more.” 

You think the worst part about this is being lonely. You’re surrounded by comforting friends who try and take you places and get you to have fun but at the end of the night you go home to an empty bed and you wake up in an empty bed.

And every morning without fail, you’ll wake up and reach for him. And every morning without fail, he won’t be there. 

#6: He’ll make romantic gestures. 

“JJ? Where are you?” You sat up, groggily. He wasn’t in bed, that’s for sure. 

“G’morning, lovely,” JJ strolled into your room, carrying a tray. You propped yourself up on the headboard and took it from him. 

“Aw, JJ, what is all this?” “Breakfast.” “You made breakfast?” 

JJ stole a berry off your plate and popped it in his mouth, nodding. He took a seat near your legs. 

JJ can’t cook for shit. 

“Baby, it’s okay, it’s the thought that counts, I thought it was sweet!” “Nah, dude, that was shitty, I’m sorry. That bread tasted like a frying pan.” “The berries were good.” “That’s because all I did to them was wash them.” 

You hit up another party with your friends. They were the best kind of distraction. You pulled up the green bikini strap that was falling down your shoulders. This was his favorite top. 

“Y/l/n!” You heard a voice shout. “Y/n!” 

You turned to see who was shouting your name and smiled at John B. “Hey, Routledge, good to see you!” “Hey, Y/n. Look, I know you guys aren’t on talking terms- “John B, no,” You interrupted, but he kept talking over you. 

“But, please, Y/n, he won’t talk to anybody and we’re all worried about him.” “I really can’t, I don’t think he- “He’s in the van. Driver’s seat. Thank you!” And then he was gone. You huffed. 

You could see the van from here and you could barely make out a figure sitting in the front seat. 

You stood there for a second before you forced yourself to get over it and you made your way around dancing teenagers to the van. 

You pulled open the door and climbed into the passenger seat. He turned to look at you. 

“Hi,” you forced out. This felt uncomfortably unfamiliar. “Hey, Y/n.” 

“How are you?” He asked. He was being formal. He was never formal with you. 

“Fine, I guess. What about you?” 

He said nothing. “Small talk? Is that what we are now? We have to make small talk?” He laughed, exasperated. 

“I know you hate small talk.” 

“What happened to us?” His eyes are wet, and he doesn’t look at you, just stares straight ahead. “I made a mistake.” You said it out loud. You hadn’t forced yourself to admit it yet. That you were wrong for putting him in this position. 

“What?” He turned to look at you. 

“I shouldn’t have broken up with you. I think some part of me thought you wouldn’t actually let me do it. That you would fight to make us work.” You shrugged. Your eyes watered up. 

“Well, I didn’t want to break up with you.” He spoke quickly. 

“What?” Now it was your turn to be confused. 

“Of course I never wanted to leave you, Y/n. I love you.” “But you said I was right. And you left.” “I thought that was what you wanted. I want you happy. If that means I have to get out of the picture, then I’m gone. I left because I thought you wanted me to go.” 

You scoff. “So, all this time we’ve just been playing ourselves.” 

JJ laughs, a wet one. “You know, nobody told me just how fucking useless I was going to be without you.” He finally really looks at you. 

There’s a half smile on his face and his eyes are full of tears. 

You leap into him, and he meets you halfway. He buries his forehead on your shoulder and his hand is holding the back of your head. “I missed you. I missed you so much, lovely.” He cries into your hair. 

#7: He’ll do anything if it means you’re happy. 

#outer banks imagine #outer banks #outer banks imagines #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj imagines #jj outer banks #jj maybank outer banks #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank angst #jj maybank fic #obx imagine #john b routledge #rudy pankow #outer banks fluff #outer banks angst

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

By Your Doorstep (Part 1)

Summary: When the reader is looking for her teenage sister’s service dog one day, she runs into Dean Winchester who thankfully saw him run past. When she arrives, her sister is fine aside from a sprained ankle but Dean’s decided to follow along and help get her sister home...

Pairing: Doctor/Neighbor!Dean x reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 3,200ish

Warnings: language, minor injury, mention of car accident/death

A/N: Parts of this series are told from two different POV’s. Dean’s POV are written from limited third person. Reader’s POV are second person (like a typical reader insert). Please enjoy this first part! …

_________

“Toast! Toast!” you shouted as you ran down a street. “Toast boy!”

“Uh, you okay?” said a guy walking on the other side of the street. He was raising an eyebrow and you shook your head.

“Toast is a dog,” you said.

“Oh, gotcha. I thought you were nuts for a minute,” he chuckled.

“You haven’t seen a german shepard around have you?” you asked.

“I saw one run down the block a few minutes ago,” he said. You looked the direction he pointed and you started sprinting. “Hey!”

“Sorry! Can’t talk!” you shouted back. You ran down the block and across the street over to the park. You ran over to the basketball court and saw Toast there next to Tessa. She was sat up and holding onto his vest when you jogged over to her. “Tess. Are you okay? Did you have a seizure?”

“No,” she said with a laugh. She was holding her ankle and you saw the swelling. “I think I broke it playing. My phone’s over in my bag. I told Toast to get it but I guess he ran home and got you instead.”

“He barged in through the doggy door, I thought he was just nuts at first,” you said. You heard footsteps behind you and the man from the street was there panting.

“You found your dog,” he said as he caught his breath. 

“Yeah,” you said, the man wincing when he saw Tessa’s ankle. “We’re all set.”

“She needs a doctor,” he said.

“Tessa, you okay here while I run home to get my car?” you asked.

“Yeah I’m fine,” she said. “Toast’ll stay.”

“I can carry her,” said the man. You both stared at him and he shrugged. “Save you a trip.”

“Are you some kind of weirdo?” you asked. 

“Says the woman running through the neighborhood shouting Toast,” he smiled back.

“Alright. Tess if you’re cool with it…” you said, the man nodding.

“Dean Winchester.”

“Dean will carry you back to the house and I’ll drive you to urgent care,” you said. “If you do try anything though Dean, Toast will rip your face and junk off, just to be clear.”

“Got the message,” he said. Tessa climbed on his back and he was careful of her ankle while you grabbed her bag. You walked with Toast by Dean’s side back the few blocks towards home. “I think it’s just a sprain actually. I wouldn’t worry too much.”

“You play basketball?” you asked.

“No. I’m a doctor is all. First glance it doesn’t look too bad.”

“Are you single? Y/N’s single,” she said.

“You’re a little shit, Tessa,” you said. Dean chuckled and Toast bumped his leg. “He wants you to get on the sidewalk.”

“Will do,” he said, Toast giving some space once he’d stepped up off the road. “He’s very intelligent.”

“We’ve only had Toast two years but he’s been very good with us,” you said. “He’s Tessa’s. I just feed him and pick up his poop.”

“I have school, loser.”

“I have work, loser,” you said. 

“You guys must be sisters,” he said. “I’m a big brother. I would know.”

“If your younger brother is single and half as good looking-”

“Keep it in your pants, Tess,” you said. 

“I like you two,” he chuckled. “Sorry Tessa but he’s probably a little too old for you.”

“They always are,” she sighed.

“You’re seventeen. You’re fine,” you said. “Besides college has way more attractive guys and stuff.”

“Oh yeah, Elmdale community college. Known for it’s hotties,” she mumbled.

“Elmdale University has some good choices,” you said.

“I thought it was too expensive,” she said.

“Well I was gonna tell you this at dinner but I applied for a different job awhile ago. I heard back this morning. I accepted. It’s double what I was making before.”

“Really?”

“Yes. With your grades you can get a half-ride and I figure between inheritance and my new salary, you can do your four year out of the gate without loans,” you said.

“Thanks, Y/N,” she said quietly. “Really.”

“You still need your part-time job if you want to get stuff for yourself though. I’m sorry. I can’t make it work if-”

“S’okay,” she said. “I can’t believe I can go to the university.”

“I called up the school earlier and talked to your guidance counselor. We gotta work on your application but we can make it work,” you said.

“Can I get a car? I know I can’t afford room and board but maybe I can get something used so you don’t have to drive me all the time?” she asked.

“Tessa…” you sighed. You knew you couldn’t afford insurance on two cars at the moment and everything else and she wouldn’t make enough part time to cover all the car expenses herself. “I-”

“I can pick up more shifts,” she said.

“Tessa, I want you to enjoy college. I sure did. I’ll give you rides whenever you want. I’ll drop you off in the morning and pick you up at night. That would work, right?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I don’t even care about my ankle. I can get my art degree!” she said.

“Tessa.”

“I’m joking,” she laughed. “Art minor?”

“You can minor in whatever you like but please for my sanity major in something you can get a job in?” you asked.

“Yeah, yeah,” she said. You rounded a corner and started to walk up a driveway, Dean setting Tessa down in the passenger seat of your car. You opened the back and Toast jumped in, Dean smiling when you shut both the doors.

“Thanks,” you said. “For helping us out.”

“Sounds like you two know how to solve problems on your own,” he said. “Happy to help. Here.”

He dug in his back pocket and pulled out a card.

“If you ever need a doctor, I’m two blocks over,” he said. “Or just to talk.”

“Thanks,” you said. “I’ll see you around, Dean.”

It was around nine when you were sitting on the front porch with a glass of whiskey in your hand. You drank slowly, eyes catching a man in a baseball cap and reflective shirt jogging by.

“Do you always run at night?” you called, Dean stopping at your front walkway. “Cause I never see you run at night and I sit out here a lot.”

“Whew well let’s stop that charade cause running is so not my thing,” he said. He breathed hard for a moment as he walked up the steps. You nodded to the other chair and poured him a glass, Dean drinking it down. “Your sister okay?”

“Yeah. Just a sprain,” you said. “Still gotta pay the deductible for the x-ray though.”

“How old are you?”

“How old are you?” you asked.

“Thirty one,” he said.

“Twenty eight.”

“Where are your folks?” he asked.

“They and Tessa were in an accident two years ago. It’s just us two now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m slowly getting used to be a guardian,” you said.

“I raised my little brother. My parents are still around but they fought a lot. I get becoming the parent when you’re not ready.”

“Do you ever get to just be a sibling again?” you asked.

“Yes. But they have to grow up first and you got a few more years ahead of you before it happens,” he said.

“I figured.”

“What does she have? Toast is a service dog I saw.”

“She gets seizures sometimes. It’s from the accident. She hasn’t had one in seven months. Fingers crossed we got her on the right mix of meds finally,” you said.

“So who takes care of you?”

“My buddy Jack Daniels. Sometimes I hang out Jim Bean too.”

“I’m partial to Johnny Walker,” smiled Dean.

“Very nice. I don’t drink much. Too tired most of the time,” you said.

“So nobody takes care of you then.”

“Who takes care of you?”

“Good point,” he said. “But I didn’t have it this rough.”

“We’re getting by. We always do.”

“I have no doubt that you can,” he said. “Take care of yourself every once in a while is all.”

“When she’s done with school I will.”

“She’s got five years left. You won’t last that long,” he said.

“Watch me.”

“Who worked on your sister at the urgent care tonight?”

“Dr. Novak. Why?”

“Cas is a good friend. I’ll see about getting that x-ray test off the bill,” he said as he stood up.

“Dean, you don’t have to do that.”

“It’s no trouble,” he said, heading down the steps. “You want me to leave you alone from now on?”

“...No.”

“You want to go on a date tomorrow?”

“Okay,” you said.

“I’ll pick you up at noon? I’m buying. Nothing too fancy,” he said.

“Okay,” you said. He smiled and nodded, spinning around and sliding right off the last two steps to his bottom. You rushed down them and he groaned, shaking his head. “Are you okay?”

“Yup,” he said, grunting as he stood. “Oh my ass hurts.”

“That’s what she said,” you said, Dean laughing.

“I definitely like you,” he said as you helped him take a few steps. “I’m alright. I’ll swing by tomorrow then.”

“Bye Dean,” you said.

“Bye Dean!” called Tessa from her bedroom window upstairs.

“Oh my God, go to bed!” you shouted back.

“It’s nine and I’m not twelve,” she said.

“Goodnight ladies,” chuckled Dean, waving as he headed back down the path. You gathered up the bottle and glasses, bringing them inside and locking up for the night. A few minutes later you were upstairs in Tessa’s room, frowning as she giggled while looking through her phone.

“Oh come on,” she said as she rolled her eyes at you. “He’s cute, he’s a doctor, he’s single and he’s a dork that just fell on his butt in front of you cause he’s so nervous and trying to play it cool. Like what is wrong with him?”

“Nothing. We have a date tomorrow,” you said, leaning against the doorframe. 

“We used to talk about guys,” she said. 

“I know,” you said. You picked at the wood, Tessa putting her phone down.

“Y/N. You’re not my mom. I know you gotta act like her sometimes but you’re not. Mom and dad would want you to go on dates and stuff. I haven’t seen you do anything fun in years.”

“I barely knew how to be an adult for just me,” you said. “You’re my priority now.”

“I’m not in a hospital bed anymore. My seizures are under control and I got Toast to watch out for me just in case. Dean had a point. You gotta take care of yourself,” she said. “Including me going to community college.”

“Tessa-”

“It’s both our inheritance and you can’t spend all of it on me. I can do two years at community and transfer to the university after.”

“Tess. You don’t have to do that. I did the math and it’ll work out.”

“When’s the last time you bought something for yourself? Seriously when?”

“I bought a new bedspread two weeks ago.”

“You needed one. That doesn’t count. When-”

“Before mom and dad died, Tess. Is that what you want me to say? They made good money but you had medical bills. Do I want a new winter coat? Sure. Do I want to splurge and by myself a nice pair of leggings? Of course. I want things. But I want us to stay in this house. I don’t want us to get shoved in a tiny apartment. I want you to be able to go to college like I did and not worry about this crap. I’m the grown up, not you. I choose how to spend the money.”

“Fine,” she said. She grabbed the crutch by her bed and got up, going to her dresser. She opened her jewelry box and grabbed a wad of cash, holding it out to you. “It’s three hundred. I want you to have it.”

“Tessa, no.”

“I earned it. I get to choose how to spend it,” she said. “You’ve always told me that. Buy a coat and leggings and whatever else you want.”

“Tessa. It’s yours. You were saving up to buy an iphone.”

“I don’t need a fucking phone. I need my sister to stop looking like she cries herself to sleep every night. Just take it,” she said. You shook your head and she shoved the money in your hand. “Y/N, take it.”

“Alright,” you said. 

“Good.” She waited a beat before pulling you into a hug. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you said. “You got plans tomorrow night?”

“I was gonna sleepover Hailey’s house if that’s okay?” she said.

“Yeah. You guys have fun,” you said. “Just be careful on your ankle.”

“Duh,” she said. “Do you want to watch a movie or something?”

“I’m kinda beat. Sunday for sure?” you said. 

“Okay. Night,” she said.

“Night, Tess,” you said. You went next door to your room, opening your desk drawer and opening the envelope inside. You counted the money she’d given you and added it to the front. You definitely had enough for her phone now and her birthday was only a few weeks away. You smiled and put it away, writing out a few bills before you gathered up your pajamas and walked down the hall to the bathroom. You kept going though, down to the shut door. You pushed it open, the room cold and dark. You flipped on a light, a coating of dust on everything again.

“Y/N?” said Tessa from the other end of the hall. You turned off the light and shut the door, Tessa by the bathroom when you walked back. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m gonna shower quick before bed. Shout if you need something.”

“Yeah. Night.”

Dean POV

“Hey, Sammy,” said Dean after he’d gotten out of the shower and was laying in bed. 

“Hey, Dean. What’s up?” asked Sam on the other end of the phone. 

“I think I just went full on weirdo on this girl I met today.”

“Well that’s obvious but what’d you do? You didn’t like stalk her or anything.”

“She lives in the neighborhood. I kinda went jogging past her house tonight and she was sat on the front porch.”

“Okay that’s kinda creepy,” said Sam. Dean ran his hand over his face and sighed. “Did you talk to her?”

“Yeah. I don’t think I gave off creeper vibes but she might have just been polite. I don’t know. We’re going out tomorrow,” said Dean. He was quiet as he shut his eyes. “Which sucks cause I really like her too. I hope she doesn’t think I’m weird.”

“Maybe she’ll have pity on you and let it slide. Where’d you meet her? I thought you swore off women after your last hookup went bad,” he said. Dean didn’t speak and ran his hand over his face again. “De I know something happened that night.”

“Sammy I got tired of hooking up. I’m too old for it. I just want a girl to go home to at the end of the day and laugh with. That’s all there is to it,” said Dean.

“Dean I was still living with you at the time. You were off for days. I know-”

“If you’re gonna bring this shit up again-”

“I’m just saying it’s nice to hear you excited about a girl again...and you can tell me anything. Anything, Dean. I’m not a kid anymore.”

“You’re twenty seven. You’re a kid,” said Dean. He rolled over on the bed and lay on his stomach, putting his hands under his chin. “Some things I just don’t tell you about, Sam.”

“Dean, I asked you to stop raising me awhile ago. You’re not my father anymore.”

“I still gotta protect you from stuff,” said Dean with a shrug.

“I get that. But my mind has gone to the worst case scenario on this more than once. Just promise it wasn’t that,” said Sam.

“Sammy, I called to talk about a girl.”

“You want things to work out with her? Then figure out whatever the hell happened in the past so it doesn’t happen again.”

“You don’t understand,” said Dean. 

“Whatever. Just crack a joke next time you see her,” said Sam. He hung up and Dean looked at his phone, sighing before he jammed his face in the bed. He gripped the sheets tight and felt his heart rate pick up, bile rising up in the back of his throat.

“Stop. It,” he said to himself, forcing himself to sit up. He wiped off his eye and dropped his head to his chest. “It’s just a fucking girl. It’s just a girl, it’s just a date. It’s all it is.”

He saw his phone light up and Sam’s name appear. He swiped and put it on speaker before he faced away from it.

“I’m sorry,” said Sam. 

“It’s okay,” said Dean, freezing when he sniffled. He stared at the phone and Sam cleared his throat.

“You alright?” Dean stared at the phone and shook his head. “De, you there?”

“Are you alone?” he asked.

“Yes…” said Sam. “It’s just me.”

“You repeat a word of this to anybody or you laugh or you tease me or-”

“Hey. I’d rather we not have this conversation over the phone. I can be there in an hour.”

“...Fine but you better bring some pie with you.”

“I’ll see you in an hour, Dean.”

______

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

#spn #supernatural #dean x reader #dean winchester #doctor!dean #au!dean x reader #dean x #spn reader insert #supernatural reader insert #doctor!dean x reader

[slafkovskys]

and ain’t no where that i’d be / t. zegras

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

my masterlist!

title from what’s my name? by rihanna feat. drake

warning! please be advised that there is mature content below the cut

-

you were sitting in your bed when you got the notification. on the upper right corner of your screen, the messages banner popped up and your eyes scan over the words:

i’m picking you up and we’re fucking in the back of my car

it was simple, straight to the point, seemingly leaving no room for an argument. it causes your stomach to twist and your heart rate to increase.

you inhale sharply and stare at the message until it disappears. you weren’t even sure that you blinked. in the few seconds after, your cursor taunts you where it blinks. for most of the day, you’d been working on your schoolwork in an attempt to get ahead, but now, after reading what he had sent, the only words that you could focus on were his.

you didn’t respond because you knew that he knew that you wouldn’t object. you just close your laptop and set it aside before getting out of your bed. you walk over to your drawer to fish out some clothes other than your pajamas. you knew that he didn’t care what you wore and you knew that it wouldn’t be on very long, but you still wanted to try and look half decent. you hadn’t seen him in almost a month and, to be fair, you thought that he was going to break on day three. sure there were pictures sent back and forth and a couple of sessions over the phone, but you knew that would only keep him at bay for so long.

you took a quick shower too, using the body wash you knew he loved. you ran your hands through your hair before you grabbed your clothes. you put on your undergarments (red, lacy, dainty, undeniably his favorite on you) before covering them with a sweater and some soft shorts.

and then you waited.

you knew that he lived twenty minutes away and he did have a tendency to speed at times, but you didn’t know when he planned on leaving. your mind, still reeling from his text, races as you stare out of your window, anxiously watching for his car.

it wouldn’t be the first time you two had done it, sneak out to screw around that is, but now, especially under the circumstances, it just felt a little more nerve-wracking. a little more dangerous. a little more exciting.

it was a few minutes later that your phone lit up with a second message from him. he was down the block and waiting. you took a deep breath before walking over to your window and pushing it open. you slipped out and left it open a crack so you would be able to get back in before maneuvering your way down onto the ground.

your parents wanted you to sneak out, you concluded the first time you had done it. they put you in the room with a tree just outside the window that made it easy to make a break for it. that’s how you would justify it to yourself every time.

you walk around the side of your house and make your way down the driveway and towards where trevor would be parked. you both knew it wouldn’t be very smart for him to pull into your driveway like he usually would. it was way after midnight and you technically weren’t supposed to be going anywhere. plus, your mom would have a fit if she knew what you were doing.

you walk a few houses down before you spot trevor’s car. you slip in the passenger’s side and lean over to press your lips to his. your hand rests on his cheek, touching the skin you hadn’t been able to touch in weeks.

the kiss was hungry, rushed. you were making up for the lost time. he pulls away first and grabs a piece of your hair, wrapping it around his finger as a lazy smile graces his lips, “i missed you.”

“i missed you too, trev,” you smile, pressing your lips to his once more before leaning back in your seat. after you pull your seatbelt across your body, his hand finds yours as he pulls away from the sidewalk.

while he drove, you took your time to analyze him. he hadn’t put much effort into his look either, but he looked good nonetheless. he was wearing a hoodie and sweats and even had his glasses on. the glasses alone were enough to make you clench your legs together (which he, of course, felt you do and chuckled in response) because he always looked so damn good in them.

“where are we going?” you ask as he slows to a flashing red light. he checks to make sure nothing is coming before pulling forward.

“the spot,” he answers simply, providing no further explanation. it wasn’t necessary, you knew exactly where he was talking about. in the place of a verbal answer, you squeeze his hand.

it took some time before you got there. trevor pulled his car off the road and took you where he always did. “the spot” was a long-abandoned, wooded area just outside of town. the grass was tall and easy to sneak off into. it was a popular place for parties and hooking up. you likely weren’t the first two to come out here since lockdown had started and you wouldn’t be the last, but thankfully tonight, you were the only.

he kills the engine and looks at you. instead of giving him time to say anything, you surge forward and press your lips to his. just like when you had gotten in his car, the kiss was hungry. full of want, full of need.

“baby, i need you to get in the backseat,” he mumbles against your lips and you comply with a giggle. when you slip between the seats, you notice he had already put the back row of seats down.

you wait for him to join you in the back before smirking as you straddle his hips, “came prepared, huh?”

“couldn’t wait. needed you as soon as possible so i figured that i would save myself some time,” he says, gripping onto your hips as you rock forward against the prominent tent in his pants. “you’re just a tease aren’t you?”

“do you want me to stop?” you raise an eyebrow as you slip your hands under his hoodie and up his chest. he makes a noise and puts his hand on the back of your neck to pull you down. “didn’t think so.”

“cocky,” he mumbles before pressing his lips to yours. you let him indulge himself for a minute before you pull back and start to trail wet kisses down his neck. you find a spot on his neck and bite down, sucking a bruise into the skin. he grunts and slips his hands fully underneath your shirt. his fingers quickly find the lace of your bralette and he groans, “oh my- lace? jesus fucking-”

“just for you,” you pull back and strip off your shirt, throwing it to the side. his eyes rake over your body, taking you in before he sits up. he pulls you impossibly closer, trailing kisses across your collarbone before moving down. he pushes your strap down and his mouth wraps around your nipple. “trev,” you gasp, gripping onto the back of his neck and rocking forward.

with his mouth still working on your chest, his hand slips up your thigh and under the waistband of your shorts. once again, he groans as he feels the lace of your underwear, but he doesn’t hesitate to slip his hand under them and rub over your clit.

he collects some of your arousal on his fingers before pushing them inside, prepping you. your hand grabs onto his wrist at the shock and he pulls back, looking at you with slight concern, “are you okay baby?”

“yeah, trev. i’m-” you try and get your words out, “i’m good. just kind of got used to mine. keep going please.”

“okay baby. just let me know if you need a break or want to stop okay,” he waits for your verbal confirmation before slipping his fingers back in and crooking them. you whine, burying your head in his neck. “that’s my girl. so responsive. did you miss my fingers?”

“yeah,” you mumble against his neck, mouthing at the skin. “mine aren’t the same, aren’t as long. don’t reach like yours.”

“i know. we won’t be doing that again. can’t let my girl go that long without me,” he assures, adding a third while his thumb works at your clit. “let’s get your shorts off, pretty girl. you think you’re ready?”

“can’t wait anymore. need you,” you respond, helping take your shorts and thong off. you go to unclip your bralette, but trevor stops you, asking you to leave it. you help him push his sweatpants down, giggling at his lack of boxers.

“as i said, needed you as soon as- fuck!” he cuts himself off with a groan as you wrap your hand around his member and start to go up and down. “condom’s- wallet.”

“classy,” you mumble as if you weren’t about to have sex in the middle of the night at a well-known hookup spot.

you find his wallet and pull out the condom. you rip it open and roll it down, hovering on top of him. you raise an eyebrow as his hands settle on your waist, “you good?”

“yeah, you?” he asks breathlessly. you nod and press your lips to his as you sink down, swallowing his moans. you sigh as he settles fully inside, thankful to finally be full. “baby, god, you’re so fucking gorgeous. love you so much.”

“how are you cum dumb if you haven’t even cum yet?” you tease against his lips, clenching around him.

he groans, “because i’ve been jacking off to pictures of your tits for about a month now. sue me.”

“and they say that chivalry is dead,” you sigh, raising up and planting your hands on his chest to help with leverage. you raise up and sink back down, finding your pace. trevor was always noisy in bed and this time was no different even though you weren’t actually in bed. you can’t help but chirp him, “what? does that feel good?”

he’s quick to snap open his eyes. he moves his hand from your hip to wrap around your neck and squeeze. you gasp and clench around him. “what?” he teases, knowing damn well what he was doing, “does that feel good?”

“fucking- hate- you,” he thrusts between each of your words causing them to be broken and barely comprehensible. he chuckles and forces your head down to kiss him as he continues to meet your thrusts. you hook your fingers in his chain to pull him forward to meet you in the middle as your teeth clash against each other. your tongues quickly find each other and you let him win that battle. it wasn’t long before you knew that both of you were closing in on a release. “i’m-”

“i know baby, me too. together yeah?” he asks and you nod, keeping your foreheads pressed together. just as you suspected, it didn’t take long before you were reaching your highs. he emptied into the condom while you spilled around him with a moan. “so good, baby.” his lips press against your shoulder as you continue to rock forward to ride out your high, “you’re so fucking good baby.”

once you calm down, you finally press a soft kiss to his lips, “that was good, trev. thank you.”

“you don’t have to thank me,” he chuckles, helping you off of his lap. he carefully pulls off the condom and ties it off, leaving it to be dealt with later as you both reach around the confined space, collecting your clothes “do you wanna-”

the sound of your phone ringing startles you both. you share a confused look before you reach into the front seat to grab it and answer, “hello?”

“y/n,” your sister’s voice is bored as she speaks, “this is just a courtesy call. mom knows and she’s looking for you.”

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