#every time this shows up on my dash i am delighted all over again
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I found this little draft lying around a couple weeks ago. This was my first smut attempt that eventually led me to write The Night is Ours and Spellbound Desires. They were both inspired by this little thing.
I wanted to write more and turn this into actual smut, but tbh, I think it's good as it is, and I don't feel the need to continue it.
It's suggestive, and they obviously smash afterward, so here's your warning for that. Otherwise, it's just a nice little something. A always, rseader is gender neutral. Enjoy!
Real (Nadia x Reader)
The previous few days have been hectic, to say the least. After defeating the Devil and with the end of the first night of the Masquerade, you retired to the Countess' chambers with Nadia herself. You two were completely exhausted and barely had the energy to take a quick bath and then collapse on Nadia's bed. You fell asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow.
A gentle touch slowly awakens you. You inhale deeply, a seductive floral scent filling your lungs, and the closeness of another person feels warm and soft against your skin. Nadia caresses your face tenderly as you open your eyes.
"My dear," she whispers, her breath tickling you. "I apologize. I did not mean to wake you up." Her voice gave away how sorry she felt for disturbing you. She truly did not mean it.
"Mm," A small sound escapes you, and you press a chaste kiss to her lips. "It's alright. Can't sleep?" In the darkness, you can barely make out her sad smile and the crimson of her eyes. Yet, even like this, she is undeniably beautiful.
"Just..." She paused for a moment, seemingly embarrassed. Feelings are a little difficult for her, but she trusts you with her whole heart. Despite that, you can almost hear the gears turning in her head. "I am afraid that all of this is a dream. That someday I would wake up, and you wouldn't be here. I dreamt about you every night after I awoke from my three-year slumber." She swallowed, gazing into your eyes while her hand moved to rest on your back. "I don't want this to be a dream too."
You smile weakly at her, her pain making your heart ache. "But it is not, Nadia."
"How can you know for certain?" She asks, and her voice trembles with worry. "And even if this is not a dream, what if I fall into a coma again?"
"Then I'll be there to wake you up again. And besides," You said while lightly brushing your fingertips over the Couness' thigh and her hip until you reached her waist and pulled her body closer to yours. "How could a dream ever feel like this?"
Nadia smiles, and the hand that has been resting on your body begins to rub your back. "You, my dear, are a true hero. When the morning comes, I shall put armor on you as you would make quite a dashing knight."
"For you, my Countess, I would be anything." You press your lips against her once more, but you kiss her deeply this time. Her grip on you tightens, and her fingers gently dig into your back, sending a chill down your spine.
All those occasions when you wished Nadia would just ravish you, and all the teasing you've had to endure come down to this moment. You two have been interrupted way too many times, and the ache between your legs has now become unbearable.
Nadia makes a small but delightful sound and pulls away, now looking at you with half-lidded eyes. "You are a wonder, my dear. Truly exceptional." She whispers. "Are you even real?"
Smirking, your hand begins to wander up her side, her arm, her shoulder, fingers trailing a featherlight path up her neck until you reach her cheek and brush a single piece of hair behind her ear, making the Countess melt against your touch. "I am, my love." Then reach lower, putting your hand on her shoulder before you push Nadia onto her back. You get on top of her, straddling her waist while you watch the Countess' eyes widen. "And I intend to show you how real I am."
She then smiles at you, her teeth gently sinking into her bottom lip. "Then show me, my dear magician."
With your heart hammering in your chest and Nadia's hands on your thighs, you slowly leaned down to kiss her.
#nadia satrinava#countess nadia#the arcana nadia#arcana nadia#nadia the arcana#the arcana#nadia arcana#arcana#nadia x mc#nadia x apprentice#nadia x you
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20 Qs for ficcers
I have been tagged by a smorgasbord of wonderful people - @celaestis1, @cha-melodius, @kiwiana-writes and @welcometololaland. One of them even sent me flowers (thanks @clottedcreamfudge, you are a constant delight).
1. How many works do you have on AO3?
12!
2. What’s your total AO3 word count?
101,280 - not too shabby, I like that it's a round number.
3. What fandoms do you write for?
Red, White & Royal Blue, The Thrilling Adventure Hour, Tamora Pierce, *cough* Angels Unlimited...
4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?
Just Like a Dealer (which I am HESITANT about including because, once again, I only wrote the first paragraph)
Henry Fox: All-American Hero
Red, White and Royal Ballet
Alien Magic
Stringbean
5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?
No! I very rarely respond to comments. Right now, it's because I don't have time, but it's also because every comment will be 'aaaah thank you <3' and that feels like artificially inflating my comment count sometimes. Having said that, if people have questions, I tend to answer them.
6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
It was gonna be Ghosted before @clottedcreamfudge talked me out of it. Maybe When a Dancer Dies, because the 'happy ending' is massively open to interpretation.
7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
Either Henry Fox: All-American Hero or Red, White and Royal Ballet. I mean, I'm writing for a novel with a strong romantic element - it's unusual NOT to write happy endings.
8. Do you get hate on fics?
I haven't yet, but hey! I probably will! And when that happens I will specifically write them into my next fics and make them suffer horrible fates!
9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?
I have written explicit stuff before, but not yet for RWRB. However, @dumbpeachjuice left a comment on All-American Hero that has me considering an expansion/missing scene in that world.
10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?
The only crossover I have is Alien Magic, which is two worlds by the same author, Tamora Pierce, and me crossing over characters from one into the universe of the other, but they're aware that the other world exists, it's just on the other side of the globe from them.
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
If I have, I don't know about it! Doubtful, though.
12. Have you ever had a fic translated?
No, but I did receive my first comment in Spanish yesterday which made me very happy.
13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?
YES and I have also co-written a book with my BFF.
14. What’s your all time favourite ship?
Fun fact: my fiance and I almost had 'fictional couples' as the theme for our wedding tables but abandoned it because two bridesmaids (u know who u are) would have wanted to sit at different tables.
Top three: Frank and Sadie Doyle, Mel Beeby and Brice de Winter (thoroughly not canon) and, of course, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor and Alex Claremont-Diaz.
15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?
Henry as a contestant on a pottery show, Alex as the kiln assistant who became a much bigger part in season 2 and has a lot to say.
16. What are your writing strengths?
Punctuality. Does that count? Errr, okay, I can write a banger of a sentence now and then and I'm good at description.
17. What are your writing weaknesses?
Em-dashes, and trying to be funny. The funniness comes in when I'm not trying too hard.
18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?
It's difficult and I haven't done it yet! I'm learning Swedish (445 days in a row so far) and what gets me is sentence structure. Sometimes it's structured like English, sometimes it's structured like Early Modern English, sometimes the structure is specifically foreign and I fuck it up. However, I really liked what Junot Diaz did in Oscar Wao, which is not italicising words in other languages because that's not how the character thinks.
19. First fandom you wrote for?
The very very very first fanfic published somewhere was LoTR. It was about the Entwives and it was dull.
20. Favorite fic you’ve written?
Ghosted. Or Cold Cases, Lost Causes. Sometimes you want to chew on some PLOT, and Ghosted deals with death, and Cold Cases deals with the ethics of podcasts covering true crime. I can't wait to release the last 3 chapters because I'm proud of how I've ended it!
Tagging -- ah shit, it seems that everyone has been tagged. Okay, if you want to do this, do it and say I tagged you. I love you all!
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♘: Cuddling in a blanket fort for Piper and Arue ❤️
thank you! this one was also asked by @silversiren1101, it was a popular choice!
read on ao3
The sun has long since set by the time Piper and Aivu return home, and Piper expects to find the secluded cottage dark and quiet. As Aivu descends from the clouds, however, Piper spies candles burning in the windows, and she quickly guesses that she and Aivu have something of a welcoming committee waiting for them.
She is not disappointed. The moment Piper steps through the door, she’s greeted by a haphazard arrangement of mess and color. A transformation has come over the main room of the cottage, with every surface and scrap of furniture covered in draping blankets and sheets. Piles of pillows stand as makeshift pillars, extending the construction down the hallway and, presumably, to the bedrooms in the back of house.
Piper barely has time to take it all in before a small head pokes out from the canopy of blankets, and a familiar voice chirps in delight, “Mama!”
The child quickly disappears from sight, though the rippling of the blankets betrays her location as she dashes through the quilted maze, until finally she arrives to wrap her arms tightly around Piper’s legs. “You’re back!”
“I am,” Piper agrees, leaning down to return her daughter’s hug. “And what is all this?”
“This is my kingdom,” Iris declares, sweeping her hands out to indicate the blankets. She beams at the announcement of her creation, as proud as any nine-year-old could be. A fond smile comes unbidden to Piper’s lips, and she pulls Iris close to give her a kiss on the top of her head before smoothing down a few flyaway hairs from the girl’s long, dark braid.
“It’s magnificent. Queen Galfrey herself would be jealous.”
“Thanks! Mommy helped me build it. And Laurie, a little, but she didn’t do much.”
“I see. And where is Mommy?”
Arueshalae’s voice sounds out from under one of the blankets, muffled by evident sleepiness in addition to the layers of cloth. “She’s here, trying very hard not to destroy her own hard work.”
Piper crouches down and scoots into the blanket fort herself to find her wife curled against a pile of cushions, arranged carefully and deliberately so that she can sit without disturbing the precarious structure with her large wings. Laurel is curled in her arms, sound asleep, and Arueshalae nods towards the child. “And trying not to wake this one up again.”
Laurel shifts in Arueshalae’s arms, but the younger child has always slept like a log, and even the commotion of Piper’s arrival hasn’t awakened her. That doesn’t stop Arueshalae from cradling her carefully, as Piper leans close enough to give them both a kiss on the cheek. “There you are- I should’ve known I’d find you in the heart of a palace.”
“That’s not the palace, Mama, it’s the enchanted forest,” Iris corrects in an exasperated voice. She points to the knitted tiger positioned at Arueshalae’s feet- a well-loved gift from Seelah. “That’s why Tiger is here.”
“Of course, how silly of me.” Piper says as Arueshalae giggles at Iris’s admonishment. “Now, tell me- is there a kitchen in your kingdom? It’s a long flight from Drezen, and I’m starving.”
Iris perks up once more. “I’ll show you the candy castle!”
She scampers off down the hallways of blankets, and Piper gives Arueshalae a wary glance. “Candy castle?”
“That one was Laurel’s idea,” Arueshalae admits, slightly sheepish. “Our daughter can be very persuasive- she takes after you, after all.”
A distant scuffling noise stirs up near the window, just before Aivu eagerly pokes her head inside. “Did I hear something about a candy castle?”
Candy castle or no, the hour is late, and it’s not long until sleep catches up with everyone. Piper ends the night curled next Arueshalae, with Iris asleep in her arms just as Laurel is nestled in Arueshalae’s. Arueshalae yawns and rests her head against Piper’s shoulder.
“Sorry for the mess,” she murmurs, brushing a long strand of dark hair from Laurel’s face. “You know how restless the girls get. This project kept them entertained for days.”
“Don’t apologize,” Piper says. “Of course they’re antsy, they’re children. I’m sorry I was away for so long.”
“You can’t help it- not with all the ruckus still going on. I know that.”
“…Maybe next time, we’ll all make the trip to Drezen.”
Arueshalae is quiet for a moment. “That might be nice,” she finally says, but Piper can hear the hesitation in her voice. “Do you think they’re ready for all that?”
Iris fidgets in her sleep, reaching up to scratch at the stubby horns growing in at her forehead, and Piper strokes her hair until she calms again. Piper smiles as she looks down at her daughters: Iris with her growing horns and silver skin practically glowing in the dim light, Laurel with her rosy coloring and long tail poking out from beneath her blankets.
Piper and Arueshalae have been careful in giving them both some distance from the legacy of the Crusades. The girls know the basics of the story- it would be impossible to avoid the topic entirely- but there is much of the history that has been softened in the retelling. In the thick of Mendev’s bustling cities, the gory tales of war would be bound to find their way to the girls…and then there’s the fact that it’s Mendev. Piper knows things have come a long way for tieflings, she’s made sure of that…but still.
Out here, there is at least a sense of something close to normalcy. Piper just wonders how long it can hold up.
“We can’t keep them hidden away forever,” she says softly. She looks around at the chaos their daughters have orchestrated through the house, and she can’t fight a smile as she nestles closer to Arueshalae. “Besides, I think the question is whether Drezen is ready for them.”
#thanks for the prompt!#this one is pure fluff <3#post game Piper and Arue are just so domestic i love them#ch: piper#ship: our own elysium
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Apologies to my entire dash but I am shifting into Star Wars mode. My apologies for the number of posts I am about to inflict upon you over the next few days.
Random thoughts about the first two episodes of Obi-Wan Kenobi under the cut. Spoilers galore.
Some things that stood out:
I was expecting them to hit us with the Order 66 feels, and sure enough they did.
Seeing Obi-Wan in hiding and not helping people is just as awful as I thought it would be. Watching him refuse to help a jedi on the run hurt the most, but seeing all the other moments where he refuses to step in was painful too.
Alderaan! So nice to go to a planet that isn’t sand.
THE ORGANAS. Bail is my favorite side character who never got the screentime he deserved, and I’m so happy they decided to include him in this show. Everything about his interactions with Leia is perfect.
I was so looking forward to seeing Obi-Wan and Bail and I was excited about them, but I thought we wouldn’t get more than a glimpse of the kids. The amount of Leia content caught me completely by surprise and I am beyond delighted. That little girl is the embodiment of the Leia we know and love and I am SO IMPRESSED. Carrie Fisher would be proud. Every time she opened her mouth I wanted to cheer.
The toy ship. I don’t even know how to express how much the toy got to me. The fact that Obi-Wan is poor as dirt and still saved up to buy it? That he spent time fixing it? That he knew Luke is interested in flying so he picked out a ship? That it is the toy we see as part of Luke’s introduction in A New Hope? Right in the feels.
Leia’s outfits. They did such a good job of calling out both OT Leia and Padme’s clothes.
The fake jedi. They did so much with this character in so little time -- showing how people are taking advantage of others, but also showing that in spite of the Empire trying to wipe out the memory of the jedi, the galaxy still remembers. They know that the jedi were kind, that the jedi tried helped those in need.
The clone vet broke my heart a little bit.
I hope Lola gets fixed because she is adorable.
It struck the right balance of referencing other pieces of Star Wars and drawing parallels without being too over-the-top about it. This felt new and like it has a story to tell, it’s not just about the nostalgia bait.
I was seriously impressed by the actress playing Reva. In a show where almost every single named character is somebody we know from one of the movies or TV shows and are excited about seeing again, she is playing one of the only characters unknown to us. I was worried she would get lost in the shuffle because of it but I was RIVETED to her every time she was onscreen. Absolutely fabulous job.
I was a bit confused about the Grand Inquisitor. Is he going to survive that fatal-looking wound, or are they going to retcon Rebels?
I was so worried about how this show would go but so far I have no complaints whatsoever. I sustained so much emotional damage tonight and I will be back for more next week.
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What’s it like hanging out with grief?
When my grief first showed up, it was like I suddenly had this companion I didn’t ask for, who never leaves and never stops talking. So I personified it and wrote about what it’s been like hanging out with her, with grief, and how she’s changed as the time goes on.
8 days
It’s dark because I can’t keep my eyes open, but I’m sure that there’s someone else here. She is a wild raging storm, each wave bigger than the last, and she feels like sorrow and fear and shame and comfort all layered together. She says she wants to look at photos of me before she got here, she likes looking at maps of all the places I visited without her. She seems to especially like the small beach town and the squatty building with the green roof where there was fresh fish and frosty mugs of beer. I show her pictures and read her letters for hours and then I sleep just to make her shut up but waking means she’s there to shake me as soon as the lights come on, hysterically crying that we’re in a car that’s about to crash and I tell her it was just a bad dream but I feel it too and I’m trapped there in the car screeching forward with the threat of slamming into a brick wall but it never happens and somehow that’s scarier.
47 days
She’ll talk to anyone, she’ll talk about anything. It’s like a drug to her, like she’s gasping for breath and the first sound of another voice is sweet fresh air. But amongst the debris of small talk and work chit chat and passers by who want to look at my tattoos, she grabs hold of the pieces that stick, the reminders that we’re still alive, like my sisters and I running on the beach and shrieking in delight as the waves knock us about, relishing the few minutes we have in every bubble of humanness before it’s just us again.
54 days
I find something that looks like joy; there are people and food and people throwing food and it feels like a party. It smells of sugar and honey and fake chocolate and sweat. I watch a spoonful of silky white vanilla pudding sail past my head, landing on someone’s face with a satisfying plop. Laughter escapes me; she gently tugs my hand. I ignore her and grab a fistful of bright pink cake and squishing it in my hands before smashing it onto a pair of sunburnt shoulders. The owner of the shoulders laughs, I laugh, I cackle. I feel her let go of my hand and leap swiftly into the air and settle into the middle of my chest like a boulder. I laugh again but it’s harder this time.
79 days
She slept for the first time today, tucked away in my pocket while I ran down a sloping hill, the wind picking up my hair behind my head, cool and soft and real. The wind on my face and the concrete under my new stiff running shoes are the realest things I have felt since she first got here. I can’t wait until tomorrow when I can bound along the hills again like a baby gazelle and lull her to sleep. I take myself to the store and I even manage to hum along to the song playing overhead and then I turn the corner and there’s a wall of stacked yogurt cups and in my pocket she snaps her eyes open and flies out and she wails the loudest she’s wailed all day and I wail with her until I am soaked with tears and I say “yogurt? really? why?” and she says does it matter? It doesn’t.
105 days
She is wild. She is like a feral teenager, rebelling for the sake of rebellion, dashing out into the world in front of moving traffic just to see what happens.
We leave in the middle of the night to meet strangers. We dance with them, shirtless, sweaty, in leather harnesses and spiked collars, under flashing lights and forming tight circles together so we can dance into each other and hold each other tight until there’s barely room for air between us.
She says we’ve never been to church. Let’s try that. We go to church. Someone wants to pray for me and I agree mostly so she can hear another voice and feel the hand on my shoulder and get her fix, but in the end it’s like everything else, a small bandage over an endless black hole and I worry if they get too close they’ll find her and they’ll never pray for me again.
118 days
I slip her into my pocket to sleep like I did when I ran and I go outside with friends and the grass is soft and there’s sweet frozen margaritas and loud laughter and some of it is mine and today it doesn’t hurt to laugh until someone points to the tuft of grey clouds peeking out of my pocket and they ask what’s that? I reach in slowly and pull her out and I cry and apologize for bringing her there and my shame and guilt and embarrassment cover me, and with soft words and downcast eyes they reach into their own pockets and they pull out their own storms, their broken hearts, and they hand them to me and for once she and I are not alone.
140 days
Each place I visit she tells me she can see a still silhouette frozen in time, two shadows hung over that table in the corner, clasping hands and sitting nose to nose, and the shadows reach out and grasp her until she can’t breathe. I watch her pack my life up, frantically half filling bent up cardboard boxes and preparing to take me somewhere where it will just be me and her and a city full of palm trees and faces who don’t know who I am and can’t see my shame or the storm that follows in step beside me.
She puts me on a long stretch of road, I don’t know what’s on the path but I know at the end of it, the air is salty and the sun is unbearable and the water always smells faintly of sewage, the roads are flat and the summers are forever and there are no frozen shadows, the car veers back on track and isn’t doomed to crash anymore and she shrinks, from a swirling hurricane to a slow rolling wave, breaking on the shore, lapping at my feet instead of pulling me into the storm.
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" EMMMUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!! " Tsukasa's voice boomed across the courtyard. A blond, energetic blur dashed across the general city greenery before skidding to a loud, almost cartoonish halt in front of the small pinkette. A big, proud grin greeted her eyes. He seemed to be holding onto something, though it was hard to tell exactly what -- Tsukasa seemed to be partially hiding it behind his back, with only half of it peeking out to the side. If anyone would have to guess, though, considering the day and time of year . . . well, it was pretty obvious he seemed to be forgoing any sort of subtlety. Then again, secret - keeping wasn't really his strong suit either ; it was as likely he was trying as much as he wasn't. Didn't really matter either way.
" emu!! there you are!! i see you're still present. a ha ha ha ha!!! my timing couldn't be more perfect then! i was worried you would have sped off back to Kamiyama if i wasn't fast enough, but my speed seems to have grown to preternatural levels! such a sprint though was no sweat for a star such as myself! but, enough about that! emu! do you know what day it is today?! "
Tsukasa was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, his smile widening by the second. " why, it's the 14th of February! which means! it is Valentine's Day!! of course, i know you will probably have a surprise for us in the coming near future, but i couldn't let you have all the glory! i have come to give you a surprise myself, and i am sure you will be most pleased! are you ready?! "
He allowed her a moment to respond before pushing out a simple, but elegant - looking box of Valentine sweets into her hands. The gift in and of itself didn't seem much to look at -- it was very clearly he had gotten a variety pack of chocolates from one of the nearby stores in the area -- but it wasn't the chocolates that were the gifts. Rather, it was what was he put inside the box to surprise her with he was looking most forward to -- a beautifully drawn hand - made ticket to a special event for that evening at the Tenma household. It was to a certain show put on by a certain star for a certain guest of honor, the beholder of the ticket herself! Free of not only admission, but participation too. That would mean his show could go any which way, totally unplanned, but a star had to be ready for any contingencies! And he knew a show wouldn't be as fun if it were just him to perform it, after all.
" happy valentine's day, emu!!! " he yelled with far too much enthusiasm.
"uweh?!"
if this were any normal person, they would surely be taken over by tsukasa's overwhelming energy. it's the sort of thing he's best at, drawing a chorus of turned heads and overshadowing each and every one who looks.
and yet! yet! this is no normal person!
the initial confusion quickly melts away on her face as emu practically leaps from her preplanned path with an arms-wide, "WON-WON-WONDERHOY, TSUKASA-KUUUN!"
she nearly went into a spiel about how she wishes it was later already, as that's the only time she can give her gifts, but tsukasa's on a warpath, and before long, emu finds herself mirroring his bouncing and smiling too.
"uoh? uoh?! UOH?!"
and the gift...!
she's honestly just as excited to see the cheap chocolates as she is the ticket. both earn an almost ear-piercing squeal of delight—stars in her eyes, mouth agape in wondrous joy.
emu is so excited, in fact, that the lid goes back on. because she backs up to all-but-tackle tsukasa.
"IT'S APPET-AZING, TSUKASA-KUN!" she yells, clinging onto him like a koala. "heheh! happy-dappy valentine's day! ♡ but watch out, watch out!! i got a gift for you, and everyone that's JUST as woah-woah-wAWEsome!! hehehe! i wonder what role we'll all play! should i bring my gift to your house?!"
#ic.emu: wonderhoy!#☆ summon the huntsman! ( answered asks )#☾ starwonderz / tsukasa and emu ☽ a never ending merry go round#HEEHEEEEEEE
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you asked me once why i wore so much makeup whenever i delivered you from your domestic hell. i think, now, i finally have an answer.
it's a defense mechanism. which, sure, that much was obvious, stillborn adolescents like us are open books, but there's a little more there, more than just accumulated hate and fear and disgust brushed away by the shape of the foundation slowly slipping off my face. it's a spiked collar with a plush inset.
it's a deterrent on the outside - a deterrent for those macabre thoughts that spill out of us whenever we're alone and know no one's judging us but ourselves, a deterrent for the creeps and the weirdos we're too scared to interact with out of fantasy and the law of cycles inexorably dragging us kicking and screaming into the same moldy hell our parents' shambling corpses scream and urge i at least get sometimes and hope you never do to see what my skin looks like from the other side if it's going to keep acting like it was born the wrong way round-
but it's also a comfort. a port in a storm, a familiar lighthouse piercing through the fog, worn warm delights wafting through my loathsome skull like one of those cheap half-broken air fresheners you got me to buy when i told you how much i'd let the mold overtake me. meant to bless, consecrate my form with every brush of that dried blood against my lips, meant to console me the same way you always have as i smear it above my eyes, pass it over my skin, baring myself to be the me you always tell me i am.
and sure, it only works half the time, and sure, i still can't figure out how to get it working, but it's an effort, and more importantly it's a reminder. it's a stilt, propping me up when my legs have gone, and on its own it's not enough to move on but with something else maybe it'll help drag me out of this static mud.
it builds me up into something i can find palatable externally. beautiful instead of handsome, adorable instead of dashing, feminine instead of not, a shield keeping me from reckoning with the sharp edges and bobbing apple that hang off my malformed skull like a gargoyle on a church. and it tears me down into someone who can let down her guard enough to acknowledge there's a her to let down at all, soften me with a million dollar smile and a billion dollar frown, sweet raspberry scent i've never told you i've burned into my memory of you scattering my worries like fireflies.
so i am trying to make myself seem bigger than i seem sitting on that stupid stoop your parents spent more time fussing over than they did you, in the end. displaying my feathers like a peacock and hoping nobody but you's knowledgeable enough to match the spectacle with the invariably male form underneath. i am everyone i've told you i hate. i cake myself in muck every day and distance myself from the imperfect woman underneath. i show up at your house unannounced in a dress looking like midnight and expecting you to not feel insufficient in a hoodie and slacks. i'm changing the goalposts so much i might as well be cutting them apart and sailing them down the river.
but i think secretly i just sort of want to become like you in the end.
because when i behold your face in the doorway to the home that's frozen you into stasis, ask someone broken time and time again by their familial prison if they "wanna get out of here" like it's as simple as up and walking away, i see you, o lady of broken dreams, and bare of any of the crutches i wield you look more beautiful than any poet could ever dream, twinkling eyes and full lips and clear, rosy cheeks free of the muck i'd spent thirty minutes painstakingly etching into myself on a bathroom mirror and more transient than ever you'll believe yourself to be. an enchantress just the way you are.
an aphrodite in repose.
#raving in the candlelight while the neighbors at the rave next to me have significantly more fun#having very heterosexual thoughts this fine november eve#come to think of it why isn't november like a staple month for gay culture#it's literally two of the same number holding each other in their arms for an entire thirty day span#just nonstop wall-to-wall spooning and/or fornicating in our datelines for the whole month#really makes you think#and by ‟think‟ i mean fantasize about the touch of a woman#kicking it in the asylum
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my only wish - knj | m
“ santa can you hear me? i have been so good this year. and all i want is one thing. please tell me my true love is here ” - my only wish (this year), britney spears
✹ summary- There are few things you hate most in this world. Hornets, unnecessary fruit pieces in otherwise perfectly good jello, certain shades of orange… But nothing takes the cake more than two simple things. Christmas. And Kim Namjoon. So why did you agree to pretend to be Kim Namjoon’s girlfriend at his family Christmas party? Bah-Humbug.
✹ rating- explicit/18+/nsfw
✹ pairing- kim namjoon x reader
✹ word count- 15.1k OOF
✹ genre- smut, fluff, tiny tiny angst if you squint, enemies to lovers, fake dating au, idiots to lovers, brief mention of YoonMin
✹ warnings- penetrative sex, unprotected sex (dont do it), daddy kink lolol, namjoon has a big dick, oral sex (m/f receiving), cum swallowing, light cum play, dirty talk, light degradation (very light tbh), praise kink, lots of mentions of joon being a beefy boy, masturbation,
✹ a/n- its here!! finally! my contribution to rockin around the christmas tropes. big big big shout out to @ladyartemesia @xjoonchildx @untaemedqueen @underthejoon @yeojaa @snackhobi for being my co collaborators. and a warm shout out to @wwilloww and @hobi-gif for being some very lovely betas. thank you thank you! i hope you enjoy!
There are few things you hate most in this world.
Hornets, unnecessary fruit pieces in otherwise perfectly good jello, certain shades of orange…
But nothing takes the cake more than two simple things:
Christmas.
And Kim Namjoon.
Christmas, in your opinion, is nothing more than a consumerist holiday, anchored on ensuring you’re guilted enough from November 1st to the 25th of December to spend your hard earned money on shit your friends and loved ones won’t even use. It’s a time for people to pretend they love giving and caring, while shoving you out of lines in stores, buying up all the groceries as if it’s the end times, and forcing party after mindless party for “celebration” that ends in seeing your boss drunk and pants-less by the punchbowl.
And don’t even start on Kim Namjoon.
On paper, he’s your colleague, to put the terms friendly. In reality, he’s your opponent, your adversary. He’s annoying, rude, stuck up, and not to mention a douchebag heartbreaker. He’s everything you hate wrapped in one disgustingly handsome face.
The man never misses a chance to steal a case from underneath your nose, rub the praise he receives from your bosses in your face, and look ridiculously delectable in his tight suits that he insists he wears around the office. He absolutely infuriates you.
And now, as you sit in the company-wide meeting, your heart sinks as you realize the worst thing about Namjoon—he’s about to get the promotion you’ve been vying for your entire career.
That position was as good as yours—at least, you had thought.
That was until lead counsel, Seokjin, stands in front of all the attorneys present and calls out Namjoon’s name, commending him on winning his latest case—the case that you had done the bulk of the work for. Seokjin even tells the rest of the lawyers in the room that Namjoon is “someone to watch” with a glint of pride in his eyes.
The smug smile Namjoon sends in your direction as he teasingly nibbles on a pen with his sultry mouth is enough to make you want to tear his eyes out and use them as olives in the martini you sorely needed.
Namjoon smirks as he walks past you once the meeting ends.
“Make sure you watch me, baby,” he whispers into your ear.
His hand rests on your lower back and you hate how much he aggravates you, and hate even more so that he frustrates you sexually as much as he does intellectually.
Unfortunately, your body can’t keep up with your mind’s distaste for the elder lawyer. His presence around you makes your blood vessels tighten and your head feel light—nipples prickling against your bra when he winks at you.
“Asshole,” you whisper under your breath as you pack up your notebook.
“Oh, ___!” Seokjin calls out just as you’re about to leave the all-glass meeting room.
Your head suddenly screeches to a very frustrated, sexual halt when you turn to face the lead counsel of your company.
“Yes, Mr. Kim?”
“I’ve got a case for you.”
The smile on his face makes you relax. Maybe he sees your potential. Maybe he’s testing you just as much as he’s testing Namjoon. Maybe you’ll be the “one to watch” and you can rub that right in Namjoon’s perfect, stunning face.
A thick manila folder slides across the oak table towards you from Seokjin’s hands. The impressive volume of the dossier makes you giddy with anticipation.
“I know you won’t let me down.”
You nod, nibbling at your lips, before bowing to your superior and dashing out of the room as fast as your Louboutins can handle.
It’s not until you sit at your desk, a cramped little cubicle next to Park Jimin, your best friend and paralegal assistant, that you open the folder.
Your heart sinks as your eyes hurriedly rush over the title page.
Personal Injury Suit.
A dejected sigh leaves you as you throw the folder onto your desk and slouch back in your ergonomic office chair.
“What’s up, pussycat?” Jimin smiles as he rolls his chair over to your side of the cubicle. “Namjoon got you worked up again?”
You groan as you take off your reading glasses, setting them aside to rub at the burgeoning headache building at your temples. You had momentarily forgotten all about Namjoon in the hurried hope that you’d land a case of significance, something you could finally use to prove yourself.
Instead, you gained yet another in-and-out, settle outside of court case. Likely some elderly geriatric suing a corporation for too-slippery floors.
“Another fucking personal injury suit,” you whine as you thrust the folder into the lithe paralegal’s hands.
He looks over the documents and sucks his teeth.
“Man, Seokjin really has it out for you.”
You level a look at your best friend, before nodding and holding your head in your hands.
“Namjoon is getting all the good cases! He gets the media attention, the litigation deals, everything! It’s like I’m not even given a chance to show what kind of lawyer I can be when I’m stuck with all the nursing home and car accident suits!”
Jimin bows dutifully, nodding his head as you express your woes.
“I can do more than just personal injury litigation… and Seokjin knows that! It’s just that Namjoon keeps getting all the air-time!”
“I know, babe. I know.”
With one last sigh of disbelief, you take the folder out of Jimin’s hands and sit upright at your desk.
“Well, I guess if I’m going to be a personal injury lawyer, I’m going to be the best fucking one yet. Let’s get to work.”
“Yeah! Fighting!” Jimin cheers.
Namjoon sighs as he listens to his mother blabber on and on through his phone. He leans back in his chair and surveys the wide expanse of his corner office.
Seokjin gave him this space, an upgrade from the desolate cubicles when he won his last big case, Kim Taehyung, artist v. the city of New York. He can’t help but smirk as he glimpses you from his window, pouring over a case file. He notes the curve of your back in the silk blouse you’re wearing and the way it tucks into your pencil skirt. He wishes he could see the outline of your ass and watch as it sways back and forth when you walk.
“I just don’t understand why you can’t ever bring anyone home for the holidays!”
His mother breaks him from his silent reverie of detailing every aspect of your backside.
“You know your grandmother will not be alive much longer! And all she wants is her only grandson to be happy and in love! And a few grandchildren won’t hurt!”
“I am her grandchild, Mom.”
She’s silent for a moment.
“Well, I wouldn’t mind some grandchildren either.”
He groans again and presses his fingers to his forehead, a headache bubbling up behind his eyes.
“Don’t you act like that, young man! You have a big empty house, big car, big life, and no one to share it with. I just want you to be happy.”
She continues on and Namjoon can’t help but let her words sink in.
He has it all. Expensive luxury apartment, enormous bed, gorgeous kitchen, money to spend on traveling and enjoying life. Yet he spends most of his time here, stuck in his office. He’s utterly alone, regardless of how many social guests he tries to entertain, horrid dates he attempts to go on. He’s always left alone, and he feels it deep at the very bottom of his heart—the loneliness and desire for a companion.
“Mom! Mom!” He interrupts her diatribe on the futility of his adult life. “Stop!”
“Namjoon, I’m just conce-”
“I’ll bring home my girlfriend for the holidays, okay?”
There’s a stunned silence on the other end.
“A girlfriend?” she asks, tentatively. “Really?”
“Yeah,” he breathes, wincing already at the lie he’s spoon-feeding his poor mother—all in the name of getting her off his back. “She’s kind of shy, so I didn’t want to tell you about her yet, but now seems like the best time. I’m... I’m even thinking of proposing.”
The words come out of Namjoon’s mouth before he can stop them. His mom bursts into screams of delight, and he can tell she’s running to his beloved grandmother to tell her the news.
“Oh, Namjoon! This is all we’ve ever wanted for you. I’m so proud of you! I can’t wait to meet her! Oh, goodness, I can’t want to tell your father. Goodbye, son! I’ll see you two soon!”
She hangs up before Namjoon has a chance to even breathe.
“Fuck.”
He drops his phone to his wooden desk and grimaces.
How the hell is he going to find a fiance in the next 3 days before the holiday break?
There’s Jennie, his ex.
He thinks about it for a moment, before quickly dismissing it. No, much too clingy and possessive. She’d take it to be real, and he’d be stuck with her.
His last hookup, Jihoo?
No, too aloof. His mom would never buy that they were a love-sick couple on the brink of engagement.
A crash outside his office startles Namjoon, making him stand and exit the large corner suite.
The commotion is coming from your cubicle, where he can see you’re struggling to use the decrepit computer. The crash must have been from you slamming the keyboard to the desk, causing the individual keys to pop off the board.
“Shit! Jimin, help me put this keyboard back together!”
You shimmy out of your chair and onto your knees, an excellent sight for Namjoon if he wasn’t so concerned about your well-being.
The paralegal is standing above you, watching as you kneel to gather the pieces of the obliterated keyboard.
“Oh no, honey. It’s against my personal constitution to be on my knees unless it’s for a handsome man.”
“God, Jimin, come on.”
“Hey, it’s not my fault you hulk-smashed the life out of that poor keyboard.”
Namjoon smirks, turning back into his office and sliding into his desk. He easily opens his MacBook and emails Yoongi in IT, requesting a brand new computer for your desk—no holds barred. He wants the top of the line for you.
He suddenly has just the person in mind to be his fake fiancée.
A brand new, gorgeous computer is at your desk the next day you arrive. You nearly spill your hot peppermint mocha when you see the sleek machine atop your old plastic desk instead of the broken clunker that was there the day before.
“What the hell?” You ask Jimin as you set your coffee down gently as if any movement might scare the new computer away. “Did you order this?”
“I love you, but I would never order you something this nice.”
You can’t help but roll your eyes as you sit down to marvel at the modern machinery. At least Jimin is honest.
“Maybe I’ll call Yoongi and ask him where it came from,” you wonder aloud, hand hovering over your phone.
“YOONGI?” Jimin screeches, eyes suddenly wide and crazed.
“Yeah? The IT guy?”
“I know who Yoongi is, you dumbass! Here, let me call him! I’m your assistant!”
He scrambles to grab the phone out of your hand.
“You literally refuse to do anything I ask.”
Jimin smiles cherubically, completely ignoring your confusion. He’s suddenly the picture of a model employee.
“Don’t you worry! I’ll be right on it!”
He hops from your desk with your cell phone gripped tight, and saunters away to a secluded area out of your eyesight.
“What the fuck is going on today?” You ask out loud, settling into your chair and unloading your bag of files.
“How's the new computer?”
The sudden intruder makes you jump, nearly spilling your coffee, yet again.
“Fuck!” You shriek as you attempt to right yourself and the dangerously hot liquid sloshing in the paper cup. “You scared me!”
The chuckle that comes from behind you makes your stomach flip. You know that laugh. You could recognize that laugh a hundred miles away, in a hurricane, with headphones on.
That laugh is the sultry demon himself, Kim Namjoon.
“I—How did you know about my computer?”
Namjoon takes a knee, bringing his face to your level in your chair. He’s close to you, so dangerously close. You can smell the Giorgio Armani cologne applied to his pressure points—the heat of his skin warming the scent and mingling with his own subtleties. Your eyes nearly roll back in your head. He smells so comforting—like a home you never knew you were missing until he arrived.
“I saw it when I walked in this morning.”
He breaks you from your daydreaming of warm, firm hands caressing your body and you’re thrown headfirst back into reality—the reality where you can’t stand the man mere inches from you.
You push back from where you are and stand, eager to get away from Namjoon’s sudden interest in close proximity. He smirks and rises from his spot, pocketing his hands in his tight cream suit.
“Care to join me in my office for some coffee?” He asks.
His office. The one he scored after he won the Kim Taehyung case. The bitter betrayal still lingers in your mouth.
For the longest time, you had been equal in every sense; both living in the dingy cubicles with the computers long-destined for retirement. Then, Seokjin awarded him with the corner office, the one with the view of the entire city. You’d never forgiven either of them.
“I have my own coffee.”
Namjoon smirks as he eyes your paper cup, clearly a quick grab from the 7-Eleven around the corner.
“Looks fancy.”
You purse your lips and clutch your coffee even closer.
“Please,” he asks again. “I need to talk to you. It’s important.”
Namjoon’s face loses its snark, and you’re curious about what could cause the man to become so serious.
“Fine.”
You motion with your arm towards his office, encouraging him to walk ahead. He smirks again, ah—there’s that smirk, before he turns and heads into the gorgeous corner room.
He lingers by the door as you enter, waiting until you’ve crossed the threshold to close the door behind you. It surprises you. Something about being in a closed room with Namjoon sets you on edge. You can nearly imagine the man bending you over that fine oak desk, hiking your skirt up and spanking your ass until it’s red.
“Coffee?” He asks as he moves towards the in-office espresso machine.
“Are you fucking kidding me? You have a Nespresso in your office?”
All desperate and wanton thoughts of Namjoon sliding into you leave once you see the stainless steel contraption in the room's corner. Of course he has a $500 coffee machine in his office. He has everything you want.
“You like it?” His question is cocky. He already knows the answer.
“Fuck off.”
Namjoon grins and turns the machine on, pulling out two mugs while you sip your now lukewarm coffee. It suddenly tastes disgusting.
“So, what’s the deal, Namjoon?” You ask as he rests against the wall and waits for the coffee to brew. “You said it was important.”
Namjoon nods, a more reserved look taking the place of his usual cocky grin on his face. His gaze turns down to his shiny dress shoes.
“I need a favor.”
“No.” Your answer is quick.
Namjoon looks up at you in surprise.
“You haven’t even heard it yet!”
“Yeah, well…,” you huff. “I’m not interested in helping you.”
Namjoon leaves his post by his elaborate coffee maker, forgetting about the piping-hot liquid drizzling into white mugs, as he stands in front of you. There’s that fucking cologne again. Why does he have to smell so good?
“You’ve got to help me. Please.”
His sudden closeness to you sets your brain off—your steely resolve begins to crumble.
“Fine, I’ll bite. What is it?”
His face lights up again. God, he has such a handsome mouth.
“I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend for my family Christmas party.”
If you hadn’t had such a good grip on the convenience store cup of coffee, it’d surely drop from your clutch and splatter on the expensive carpet of Namjoon’s office.
Your eyes widen, and your mouth falls agape.
“You—You what?!”
Namjoon sighs and lowers his voice.
“Look, I…” he struggles. “I told my mom I have a girlfriend, so she’d get off my back about it.”
“And why am I suddenly your best option for that?!”
You step away from the man, determined to clear your mind as the scenario weaves its way through your head.
Namjoon’s girlfriend. He wants you to be his girlfriend.
Well, his fake girlfriend.
He would hold your hand. He would kiss you. He would touch your body in ways you convince yourself you don’t think of often.
“You’re the only girl I know who’s got a good enough poker face to go along with it. And honestly… you’re the only girl I really know well enough.”
His last admission shocks you. Namjoon seems like the womanizing type—one to bring a different girl home every night.
“That doesn’t explain why the fuck I would want to help you.”
Namjoon steps back and moves towards the coffee machine again.
“If you help me, I’ll take all your shitty cases that Jin is giving you.”
Your eyes narrow at the tall man. It seems too good to be true.
“How d'you know about them?”
Namjoon shrugs and grabs a mug full of freshly brewed expensive coffee.
“I can hear you complain to Jimin about it every day.”
You grumble under your breath, sucking on your teeth as you try to process the terms of Namjoon’s deal.
“So you want me to be your fake girlfriend for your family…” you muse.
“Yes,” he agrees. “And I’ll do all your worst cases for the next 2 months. I’ll even give you my next big one. I know you want that.”
God, he’s right. That’s all you want. A chance to prove yourself to Seokjin, to the company.
With an aggravated sigh, you relent.
“Fine! But it better be a good fucking case. And, I’m using your coffee maker every morning.”
Namjoon can’t help but chuckle, loving the fire in your voice.
“Deal?” He murmurs.
He holds out his hand to shake on it, and it takes you by surprise how warm and soft his large hands are once you slide your own into his grip.
“Deal.”
Jimin is not going to let you live this one down.
Jimin doesn’t let you live it down.
He’s sitting on your couch, legs crossed underneath him as he hoists his wine glass filled to the brim. He holds it away from his body as he shakes with laughter.
“You’re telling me,” he wheezes. “That you agreed to be Namjoon’s fake Christmas girlfriend? You hate that man!”
Flopping into the couch beside him, you sigh.
“Yeah, well, it was my only option. He made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”
“Okay, Godfather,” Jimin snickers. “Lord knows you still want to bone that man, anyway.”
“Jimin!” You admonish. “I do not! And that wasn’t the deal!”
He sips at his red wine with an impish smile. You hate it when Jimin looks at you like that, like he can see behind the lie you’ve so carefully crafted of your hatred for Namjoon.
“Then tell me, what was the deal?”
You fiddle with the stem of your own wine glass, sighing.
“He’s offered to take all our shitty personal injury suits for the next two months. And he’s giving me his next big case.”
Jimin actually looks surprised—as if he didn’t expect Namjoon to provide a deal so worth the cost.
“Wow,” he breathes.
You nod in reply, taking a large gulp of the pinot grigio in your glass.
“You’re still going to fuck him though, I know it,” Jimin adds.
You splutter your wine from your mouth, hand reaching over to gently slap Jimin on his taut abdomen.
“Shut up!” You cry.
Jimin looks proud of himself, sipping his red wine gleefully while he settles further into your couch. Wine nights with Jimin is the highlight of your weeks. Together, you bitch over cases, coworkers, dating struggles, and eat too much cheese and cured meats and nurse a hangover the following day with brunch.
“Hey,” you say to Jimin as you set your wine down on the coffee table. “Did you ever talk to Yoongi?”
Jimin’s cheeks immediately turn a shade of rouge.
“Yoongi? Yoongi who?”
“Oh my god,” you groan. “Yoongi from IT. You stole my phone to call him today? To ask about my new computer?”
Jimin swallows a large swig of his wine.
“Oh. Yes, I did.”
“And?” You encourage the blonde to answer further.
“And he’s doing well,” Jimin replies demurely.
“Jimin!” You huff. “The computer?!”
Jimin makes an ‘O’ shape with his mouth and bites his lip.
“I… might have forgotten to ask.”
Your mouth drops open.
“You literally stole my phone out of my hands to call him! What did you talk about?!”
There’s his blush again. The shade of pink on Jimin’s cheeks would be adorable if you weren’t so flabbergasted by his answers.
“I have a date tomorrow night.” He takes another sip as you let the reply sink in.
“Oh. My. God.” You gasp, a smile now overtaking your features. “You have a crush on Min Yoongi!”
Jimin sets his wine glass down next to yours and turns to you.
“I had no idea if he was into me! But when I called, I totally forgot why I was calling him and we sort of just… started talking and next thing I know, he’s asking me out to dinner tomorrow night.”
You playfully slap at Jimin’s thigh.
“You little slut—using my phone to get yourself a date. On company time!”
Jimin sticks his tongue out at you, before grabbing a pillow and slapping you with the overstuffed cushion.
“At least I didn’t agree to be his fake girlfriend!”
It’s the sound of your phone ringing at 7:32 am that wakes you from your spot on the couch, wine glass still clutched in your hand.
“What the fuck?” You grumble, eyes blearily seeking the offending object disturbing your sleep.
Jimin grumbles next to you, kicking at your foot as if it will stop the phone from ringing.
“Stop,” he whines and cuddles into his fetal position. “Turn it ooooff.”
You locate your cell phone and groan as you recognize the name on the caller ID. Namjoon. What the fuck could he possibly be calling for? And why did he have to call at seven in the goddamn morning?
“What do you want?” You snap as you hold the phone to your cheek and throw yourself back onto the couch.
“Well, good morning to you, sunshine.”
Namjoon’s voice, as sexy and sultry as it sounds, still aggravates you.
“Why are you calling me? It’s Saturday. Its seven am.”
Namjoon chuckles and you fight the shiver that works through your spine at the sound.
“I tend to keep human hours on the weekend.”
You can’t hold back the sarcastic guffaw that escapes you.
“Okay, Mr. Perfect,” you sigh. “That doesn’t explain calling me.”
Jimin kicks at your foot again.
“Stop talking,” he grumbles.
God, Jimin is such a diva when he’s hungover.
“Meet me at the cafe on First Street,” Namjoon says casually. “I’ll tell you when you get here.”
“Right now?!” You ask, incredulous.
“I’m literally already here. Hurry before your coffee gets cold.”
You let out a whine that could rival a 5-year-old’s temper tantrum.
“Fuck you. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
There’s no care about your phone when you end the call and throw it to the floor. Jimin grumbles and rubs at his eyes.
“Why the fuck are you having phone sex with Namjoon so early in the morning?” He asks.
“Jimin, I swear to God.”
He wraps himself in the throw blanket and buries his face back into the couch while you stand and retreat to your bedroom to throw on some semblance of appropriate clothing for the occasion.
“Fucking Namjoon,” you grumble under your breath as you change into jeans and a sweater. “Fuck him and his stupid, sexy face. And his unbelievable ass. And his stupid, probably enormous penis. Man, I hate him.”
As you’re re-entering the living room and grabbing your important items (keys, wallet, lip gloss just in-case), Jimin pops his head out of his blanket cave.
“Where are you going?” He asks, suddenly less annoyed and more pathetic. “You’re leaving me?”
“I have to go meet Namjoon for coffee. I don’t know why, so don’t ask.”
“You’re really going to let me suffer here? Alone? With no coffee?”
You spin around to face your best friend, who’s giving you an absolutely soul-crushing pout and puppy eyes.
“Yes. Call Yoongi.”
His precious pout is wiped away, and a devious smirk takes its place.
“Great idea!” He says as he digs around for his phone. “Be careful out there! It’s icy! Wouldn’t want you to slip and fall on Namjoon’s dick.”
Your only reply is one singular middle finger in Jimin’s direction as you exit your apartment.
Namjoon can’t help but smile as he sips his warm coffee. The cafe is warm and bright, despite the chill outside.
Things feel peaceful. Tender flakes of snow trickle down outside and frost up the shop’s window. There’s something about this time of year that strikes him down to the core. Something cozy, something warm.
It’s odd to think this will be his first year not celebrating the holiday alone.
Even if it is... well, fake.
The bell over the door chimes an arrival, and Namjoon can tell by the grumbles and grunts and stomps of snowy boots that it’s you.
“Over here!” He calls, raising a hand and turning to face you.
Wow, he thinks. You look gorgeous, even without trying.
You hurry your way over to the booth and plop yourself on the opposite side, immediately lunging for the obvious mug of coffee waiting for you on the table. You don’t waste a minute gulping the liquid down your throat, then spluttering when you realize it’s still hot.
“I thought you said it was getting cold!” You cry, airing out your burnt tongue. Namjoon can’t help but imagine that tongue sliding up and down his cock.
Not now. Wrong time and place to get a boner.
Namjoon smiles as he sips his cappuccino.
“I got you a fresh one.”
You make a face, but your features soften. As if you’re pleased with the idea that Namjoon cared to freshen up your cup.
“Oh, well--”, you manage. “Thank you.”
Namjoon doesn’t reply, but merely tips his head. The silence is thick enough to cut with a knife. Normally, you’re both normally so wound up in aggravating the other that a moment of calm is strange, but not unwelcome.
“So, why the early morning wake up?” You finally ask, fiddling with the handle of the mug.
Namjoon settles his cup down.
“We need to get to know each other. Deep shit, you know. The shit that lovers would know about each other.”
He notices you, watches as you nibble at your lip. You try hard to hide it behind the mug you lift to your lips, but Namjoon notices.
“I’m hoping maybe we could spend the day together,” he adds. “I need to get some Christmas gifts for my family and… well, it’s rather lonely doing it on my own.”
There’s a slight smile at the ends of your lips.
“And you needed me at seven thirty in the morning to do that?”
He stifles a laugh.
“Like I said, I operate at regular human hours. Even on weekends,” he replies.
With a dramatic sigh, you agree.
“Fine,” you say. “I’m an open book. Ask me anything.”
He watches as you settle into the seat of the booth, hands gripping the warm mug like it’s a personal heater. He notices you’re only wearing jeans and a sweater--no properly warm clothing for the snow storm ahead. He’ll have to fix that, and soon.
“What are you doing for Christmas?” He asks.
You level a look.
“Spending it pretending to be in love with you.”
Namjoon can’t help but snort a laugh.
“I meant after that.”
You shrug as you settle back into the seat.
“I don’t like Christmas. I don’t do much other than force Jimin to kiss me under the mistletoe and watch shitty movies with a gallon of boxed wine.”
“Hmm,” he hums. “You’re sort of a Grinch.”
A scowl comes over your face.
“I am not! I just don’t buy into this whole ‘prove how much you love me by buying me things’ shit. It’s a big scheme, I tell you! Capitalist propaganda! They encourage you to spend all your money, and if you don’t, they shame and guilt you by telling you you don’t love your family enough.”
Namjoon can’t help but laugh as you rant. It’s what makes you such a talented lawyer—your ability to feel a passion so deep within you you’re able to convince a stone-faced jury of your side.
“Don’t laugh at me!” You cry. “I’m serious! My family doesn’t celebrate, I don’t celebrate. I’d rather just buy gifts for my loved ones when I see something they’d like. Why do we have to put a time of year on it?”
He shrugs and scooches his mug around the carbonate table.
“I suppose that makes sense,” he muses. “But you’re still a Grinch. And a Scrooge. You’ll definitely get visited by some Ghosts at midnight.”
“Ha ha,” you snark sarcastically. “Hilarious, Namjoon. Don’t tell me you’re a big festive guy.”
“Somewhat. It’s my Mom’s favorite holiday. It’s why she’s so bent out of shape about me having a girlfriend. Something about family and love and shit.”
You nod, understanding him completely. Your own mother, despite her reservations towards the holiday, still makes a fuss over your single status. There must be some Mom code to obsess over your children’s woeful dating life.
“Well, I say let’s get on with it then. Ready to hit the shops?” He asks.
You’re mid-sip of your finally cooled coffee and you send a desperate look to the man in front of you.
“Already?!”
“We’re burning daylight, baby.”
Namjoon stands and you can’t help but feel a roar of flames in your belly at the pet-name. Your cheeks are surely flaming up and you admonish yourself for getting so peaked about such a trivial name.
“Please don’t tell me we’re walking,” you murmur as you sneak a peek outside.
The snow is falling down harder now, and you’re dreadfully underdressed for the weather.
Namjoon tsks at your lack of outerwear, but then shakes his head.
“No, we’ll take my Range Rover.”
You roll your eyes and grimace.
“Of course. You have a fucking Nespresso machine and a Range Rover. Asshole.”
Namjoon doesn’t even think about it as he grabs your hand and laces his fingers in between yours. If anyone asked, he’d say it’s practice—to familiarize himself with the way your fingers slot between his own so it’s not such a foreign concept when he does it in front of his family.
“Yeah, but I’m your asshole now, princess.”
Christmas shopping with Namjoon is mostly painless.
Normally, you dread the lines and the crowds and the confusion and the expense.
But with Namjoon, you relax and banter away with the tall lawyer. You’re completely at ease as you walk through crowded aisles and sort through racks of cashmere sweaters and stacks of fuzzy blankets.
“Mom will love this, don’t you think?” Namjoon asks, holding up a thick, exquisite looking blanket.
You’re about to answer with an affirmative when you catch yourself. You don’t even know his mom. You’ve never met the woman. Why does it feel as if Namjoon is someone you’ve known your entire life?
Why do things feel so easy with him?
“Sure, Namjoon,” you reply. “Seems like something most mother’s would be into.”
He smiles at you. It’s a genuine smile too, one that nearly knocks you on your ass. Your body is sent into overdrive constantly. He holds your hand, he places his hand at the small of your back to guide you through a thick crowd. He calls you baby and princess and doll.
It’s confusing.
It’s amazing.
You can’t tell if you love it or hate it.
Namjoon pushes the shopping cart and walks beside you, chatting easily about his various aunts and uncles names that you likely must remember at some point but you just can’t think about anything but Namjoon, Namjoon, Namjoon.
You hate him. He stole that corner office from you. He’s going to take the promotion you want from right under your nose. He has a goddamn Nespresso in his office and a Range Rover.
And yet, you can’t help but fall in place next to him and listen to him tell stories of his childhood, weaving tales of uncles who snuck him his first sips of alcohol and aunts who spoil him rotten. He’s easy to listen to, a natural story-teller. Your body feels warm, as if you’re sitting on a large hearth by a roaring fire. He’s comforting.
It’s infuriating and wonderful all at once.
“And that’s when my cousin Jungkook got caught smoking cigarettes. My grandma beat our ass so bad I couldn’t sit for a day.”
Namjoon finishes his story and turns to look at you. You’ve been staring at the man for nearly a minute straight now.
“Hey,” his voice is soft. “You listening?”
You shake out of the trance Namjoon’s deep voice sends you into.
“Yeah!” You reply with a smirk. “Sounds like this Jungkook is a guy I’d like to meet.”
Namjoon sucks his teeth and nudges you.
“Hey, you’re my girlfriend, remember.”
You stick your tongue out at him playfully.
“Fake girlfriend. I’m still a single, desirable lady at the end of the day.”
Namjoon hesitates before answering. He wants to reply something snarky, something sarcastic and witty. But he takes a moment to pause, allows himself to fully immerse himself in you. Even hungover, in yesterday’s jeans and an old sweater, you’re still an absolute catch. You’re the definition of desirable and Namjoon can’t help but allow himself to desire.
“Hmm, is that what you call it?” He asks, now allowing the sarcasm to permeate his words. “I was thinking you’re more of the spinster, cat-lady type.”
“Hey!” You pout as you slap at his arm. “I’m allergic to cats!”
“But you don’t deny being a spinster.”
“Fuck you, Namjoon.”
He grins and pushes the carts towards the candle aisle, a sure-fire gift for his aunties.
“In due time, my love.”
By the time Christmas Eve arrives, you’ve spent nearly every day with Namjoon. At work, he brings you fresh coffee from his Nespresso and buys you lunch. You’ve even landed his big case, an incredibly complex lawsuit that will showcase your skills. Namjoon gives you pointers and space to talk through the case with him.
Namjoon is, in fact, simply being kind. And it unsettles you.
Your heart and brain are at war with each other constantly. You should hate him, loathe him. He’s going to nail that promotion regardless of what you prove to Seokjin.
But your heart tells you he deserves it. He’s an incredible attorney and has earned every ounce of respect. You want Namjoon to get that promotion just to see that smile on his face. He’d do incredible things as Seokjin’s protege to take over the firm.
You hate to admit it, but Namjoon has melted the ice around your heart. And you’re dreading the day after all this is over, because it will be the day Namjoon stops holding you close and pressing soft kisses to your temple. It will be the day he stops pretending this is all real.
It’s Christmas Eve and you’re sitting in Namjoon’s expensive Range Rover, plush leather seat toasty from the built-in seat warmer. You can’t help but marvel at the way the oncoming headlights brighten up Namjoon’s features as he drives you down a snowy mountain lane. They always hold the Kim family holiday party at Namjoon’s late grandfather’s cabin in the mountains, a quiet getaway for the family to gather and spend the night together to wake up on Christmas morning and gather around for presents and food.
Which means waking up to Kim Namjoon.
It’s something you’ve dreamt of often, but denied yourself any actual possibility of it. Namjoon was always out of reach, and it was easier to hate him for his success he rightfully deserved than it was to admit the feelings that were always inside.
And now, although it’s artificial, you can’t bear to think of not spending your time with Namjoon anymore.
You steal a glance again at him, and smile as you hear his faint humming. He loves Christmas music. You learned that early in the week during another early morning coffee and ‘get to know you’ before work. Namjoon couldn’t stop singing Mariah Carey’s classic pop song under his breath as it played over the speakers in the cafe.
“It’s so pretty up here,” you muse as you force your vision away from Namjoon’s gorgeous face to the snowy scenery outside.
The snow is falling gently, not enough to cause a blizzard but enough to make it seem like you’re trapped in a picturesque snow-globe. Leaving the city and entering the magical forest stirs an emotion inside you you hadn’t felt in some time.
It’s Christmas Eve and there’s just something magical.
Ugh. Unbelievable.
Namjoon has even made you actually enjoy Christmas.
He nods. “Yeah, it’s my favorite place in the world, I think.”
“I can see why,” you sigh. “It looks like a painting.”
Namjoon glances over at you peering through the window. His heart hammers in his chest hard as your glittering eyes bounce around from tree to tree, a pretty smile on your face. The diamond ring in his pocket feels like it weighs a literal ton and he nibbles at his lip.
He bought it for the showmanship of it all, initially. It was his first purchase he made when he set up this whole rouse.
But now, it feels real. It feels like he’s really about to get on one knee and ask you, the girl he’s absolutely head over heels for, to marry him.
And then it will be over.
He’ll make up some story to tell his mom about how it didn’t work out and you’ll go back to being his coworker, and nothing more.
Namjoon can’t fight the sinking feeling in his stomach.
Nothing more.
He pulls into the driveway before you even have time to realize you’re there. He puts the car in park and smiles over at you.
He looks so cute in his puffy winter coat, hair pushed to the side and a smile that’s all dimples and cheeks.
Fuck.
“We’re here,” he whispers. “You ready?”
Suddenly, the nerves of meeting your fake boyfriend’s entire family slap you right in the face. You hope that you’re a good enough actress to get Namjoon through the night and into the morning.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
He nods and squeezes your hand, an unspoken comforting ‘I got you’.
Namjoon gathers his wrapped gifts and stacks them all in his arms, ignoring your pleas and giggles to help carry them in.
“No, no,” he assures. “I have to make sure my mom sees me being manly and helpful.”
As if on cue, the front door opens and Mrs. Kim is bursting out into the snowy night.
“Namjoon!” She shrieks, completely overjoyed. The rest of the family is standing by the door, eyeing you carefully with smiles and whispers. You pray to whatever Christmas God that’s listening that you can do this.
Namjoon sets the pile of gifts down just in time to wrap his delicate and tiny mother in his arms, hugging her tightly while she gleefully buries her face into her tall son’s chest.
“Oh, my son, I’ve missed you.”
Namjoon kisses the crown of her head and smiles.
“Missed you too, eomma.”
The scene has you misty-eyed and you swipe at your eyes to stop the tears. There’s no way you’re ruining the fantastic makeup you did for the occasion, but the reunion of Namjoon and his mother is heart-warming. He clearly cares for his mother more than he would outwardly admit.
Namjoon and his mother unwrap from each other and Namjoon turns towards you.
“Everyone, this is ____,” he breathes. “My girlfriend.”
His mother’s gleeful squeals now turn to you, and within an instant she’s gathering you up in just as tight of a hug as she did to her son.
“Oh, darling, we are so happy to meet you,” she beams.
The excitement in her voice makes you feel bad—like you’re conning an old woman out of her retirement. You’re instilling a sense of hope in the kind woman, and you can’t help but send Namjoon a look as you wrap your arms around her and return the embrace. His eyes sparkle with something you can’t read.
“I’m happy to meet you too,” you smile as you pull apart. “Thank you for letting me come.”
“No thanks necessary,” she admonishes with a wink. “We had to beg Namjoon to bring you. It seems he wants to keep you all to himself.”
“Eomma!” Namjoon snaps. “Be appropriate!”
She nudges you with her elbow knowingly, which makes your cheeks flame hot, before she leads the way back into the house.
“Come in, come in! Let’s get out of this snow.”
Namjoon encourages you to step inside with a gentle hand at the small of your back—a touch that makes your body light up brighter than a Christmas tree.
“Thank you,” he whispers in your ear from behind. You can feel the warmth of his lips and your body reacts.
How is it that any simple act makes you desperately horny for the man? You pray for some respite from your sexual frustration over the next day. How are you going to last over 24 hours?
Namjoon deposits his massive haul of gifts under the tree and returns to your side, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to bring you close. He introduces you to uncles and aunts and cousins. He even introduces you to his infamous cousin, Jungkook, who smirks at you in a way that makes Namjoon pull you in closer to his body.
“Are you doing okay?” Namjoon finally asks after the rush of relatives greeting you dies down. He turns you towards him, to face him directly with his hands on either of your shoulders. “You’re killing it.”
You can’t help but smile. Namjoon’s family is all incredibly kind and funny. They welcome you into the family with ease and it chips away a little more each time at your heart.
Because this is all fake.
One day, Namjoon really will have a girlfriend to bring to Christmas and to show off to his relatives and it won’t be you. You’ll be back at your apartment, watching shitty TV re-runs and binging on Chinese takeout, as you do every year. It’s a jab at your heart each time the bitter truth rears its ugly head.
“Yeah,” you nod. “I’m great.”
“Look!” Jungkook shouts. “They’re standing under the mistletoe!”
Namjoon blushes a shade of red that likely matches a blush on your own cheeks. Sure enough, the green branches of the mistletoe taunt you from above.
You’ve never kissed Namjoon before. In all the skinship and closeness of the last week, you’ve still yet to close the gap to kissing the man.
“Oh, come on Kook, that’s a stupid tradition,” Namjoon murmurs awkwardly, rubbing at the back of his neck.
Jungkook smirks as he steps up next to you.
“Well, if you’re not going to do it, I’d be more than happy to take your place.”
Jungkook wraps a loose arm around you and gives you a charming smile. He must be very popular with the ladies, you think. That’s a charming smile.
“Hey!” Namjoon grabs for your hand and tugs you out of Jungkook’s predatory gaze. “She’s my girlfriend.”
Namjoon looks at you for a moment, assessing your comfort level with everything about to take place. His lips look so inviting, so plush and warm. Now that you’re thinking about kissing him, you can’t help but focus on the way his lips pucker so gently and naturally.
And then it happens. Namjoon lowers his face towards you and it feels as if the world is in slow-motion. It’s happening.
The first press of his lips is soft and conservative. You take a split second to register, but instinctively you press against his lips with determination and wrap your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss.
He groans softly as you trail your tongue out to seek purchase in his mouth, and he opens for you without hesitation. His hands grip at your waist and bring your body flush against his. You can feel his cock twitching and rising from the kiss that’s gone from innocent and playful to passionate and deep. It feels like the world around you has stopped and the only thing that matters is Namjoon, his mouth, his body against your own. He tastes like hot chocolate and peppermint, and you want more, more.
“Oh my god, stop,” Jungkook’s voice shatters your illusion of being all alone with Namjoon. “Now you’re just showing off.”
Namjoon pulls away from you, eyes dazed as he tries to right himself.
“You two are just so perfect for each other,” Namjoon’s mother says, who’s suddenly appeared in Jungkook’s place. “Let me show you your bedroom.”
“Oh, we’re sharing?” You ask without thought. It’s a large house, with ample bedrooms surely for you to have your own space.
Namjoon nudges you in the ribs gently, eyes widening and mouthing a ‘what the fuck do you mean?’
“Of course dear, don’t be silly,” his mother replies with an eyebrow waggle and a chuckle. “I remember when your father and I were dating. He would sneak into my room after my parents went to bed and keep me up all night long. Your grandfather would ask me if I had terrible dreams that night, because I looked so tired.”
Namjoon makes a face. “Eomma, please,” he begs. “Please don’t talk about my parents like that.”
As his mother guides you down a long hallway, your mind is whirring with too many thoughts of Namjoon, of sharing a bedroom with Namjoon, of seeing his sleeping face and waking up next to him. It’s all too much, too overwhelming. You pray there’s a couch in the room you could sleep on, because you’re far too weak and you’d rather fight the desperation in your body than face the fact that you want nothing more than to curl right into Namjoon’s strong arms and let him hold you all night to sleep.
Fuck.
“Here we are!”
His mother opens the door with grace, and flicks on the light. The room is beautiful in its simplicity. A king sized bed, a fireplace, and a balcony with a view of the sprawling snowy scene outside. It’s cozy and warm and decorated with its own Christmas tree.
“Wow,” is all you can muster.
“Aish, Mom,” Namjoon sighs as he drops his bags. “You didn’t need to do all of this for us.”
Mrs. Kim holds his hand in both of hers. “Well, I know how special this Christmas is going to be,” she winks. “I want you to enjoy your time here. Now, I’ll leave you two alone for a bit. Dinner is in an hour, so ‘freshen up’!”
Another wink, and Namjoon makes another face. She definitely wants grandchildren, that much is for certain.
She closes the door behind her and you’re left standing in the room, overnight bag in hand.
“This is—Wow, this is amazing.”
You’ve never experienced Christmas like this—with decorations and warmth and family. It’s as if the love of the Kim family permeates the very walls of the expansive cabin, like it’s built into the foundation itself. For a moment, you allow yourself to soak it all in. This is all yours. It’s your Christmas and you finally understand why so many make such a fuss over it. The results are nothing short of remarkable.
“Yeah, she really does the most,” Namjoon laughs.
He takes the bag from your hand without your notice and you step towards the balcony to peer into the night. The landscape looks as if everything has been covered in soft marshmallow. The snow is untouched—picture perfect.
“I’ve never had anything like this before.”
Namjoon settles your bag and his on the bed, watching as you soak in your own wonder. The smile on your face is not one he sees often, one of pure joy. Namjoon swallows hard as he realizes he wants to be the one to always put that smile on your face.
“Not such a Scrooge after all, eh?”
You turn from the still-life view outside and back to Namjoon, where he stands at the foot of the bed. He looks so different outside the office. He’s wearing skinny jeans and a flannel shirt, his puffy jacket hanging by the door. No cream suit, no slicked back hair or shoes shiny enough to see your reflection. Just simply Namjoon.
He’s no longer the man who steals the limelight in the office. He’s no longer the man you see as your adversary or your rival.
He’s the man who’s showing you the magic of Christmas, the spirit of love and kindness that embodies the season.
He’s the man you’ve fallen in love with.
And yet, he’s the man who will leave once this is over and return to his proper life, and you to yours. He’ll return to sleeping with models and movie starlets, and you’ll return to binge watching Great British Bake-Off with Jimin and a carton of Chicken Tikka Masala.
And Christmas will never feel as special as it does now.
So, you’re determined to soak in it for a little longer. It’s going to hurt regardless, so why not push that hurt off until tomorrow and allow yourself to pretend you live the lie you’re spinning for Namjoon’s family?
“I think I’ll just freshen up and change into my dinner outfit, then?” You ask out loud, grabbing for your overnight bag and heading towards the ensuite.
Namjoon, who expected a witty retort, takes a moment to reply.
“Oh,” he coughs. “Yeah, sure. I’ll err—, I’ll just get ready out here.”
You quickly escape into the bathroom, closing the door and resting on it as you exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.
The tension in the bedroom with Namjoon was too thick, too powerful, especially after the kiss you just shared. His cock had been there, straining in his jeans as you licked into his mouth. The kiss felt so natural, as if you had always kissed Namjoon like that. Your heart beats loud and hard in your chest just from the thought of it.
You really needed to get a handle over yourself. You still have dinner to get through, and an entire night in a bedroom with Namjoon. A bed with Namjoon.
No, you won’t allow yourself to go that far. You can pretend you’re his girlfriend, but all thoughts of his delectable body doing scintillating things to yours is strictly off-limits. You shake all thoughts of a thick, heavy cock sliding into your mouth and warm hands spreading you open, and set about fixing your makeup and changing into the gorgeous cocktail dress you purchased for the occasion. It wasn’t often you got to get dressed up. The emerald green velvet dress clings to your body and highlights your curves. It’s a sexy dress, definitely, but also appropriate for a formal evening with your boyfriend’s parents.
Well, your fake boyfriend. Right.
After fixing your hair and buckling your heels, you take one last glimpse in the mirror for good luck and exit the room.
Your breath is nearly knocked out of your lungs as you see Namjoon.
You’ve seen him dressed up for court and for TV appearances millions of times, but you’ve never seen him like this.
He wears a blood red button up without a tie, a few buttons open to emphasize the casual look, tucked into the tightest and sexiest slacks you’ve ever seen. They hug his thighs and sit at a spot on his waist that you just know is rippling with cut lines from his work in the gym. His hair is tucked back with a bit of hairspray, and he’s fixing the sleeves of his shirt when he sees you.
His eyes widen and his hands fall to his sides as he soaks in your appearance.
An absolute vision.
He can see the gentle valley between your breasts and the way your dress pushes up your cleavage and displays your collar. The dress follows the delicate curve of your waist and hips and ends at your knee, but teases him with a glimpse of thigh that has him wiping his mouth in case he’s drooling.
“You look incredible,” Namjoon murmurs as you step closer.
“So do you.”
You swallow hard as he continues closer to you, breathing harshly as he stands right in front of you. You could reach out and unbuckle his expensive slacks and fist his cock right there. You’d fall on your knees for him, if he asked.
There’s a moment of silence as Namjoon’s face inches closer and closer to your own, each unable to verbalize just how desperate either of you feel for the other.
“Namjoon, I—,” you start. You want to tell him. You want to tell him everything—that you don’t want this to be fake, that you want this to be real, and you want to be his and his forever.
“Yes?”
You swallow hard, shaken by just how close his lips are to yours. He’s inches away and all you can focus on is the way his plush lips look and how well they fit against your own under the mistletoe.
“I just—, I really um, I’m just very…”
You’re not making sense. Comprehension of language is quickly soaring out the window because the only words you know are ‘Please, for the love of God, kiss me and make me yours’, but you can’t bring yourself to speak them out loud.
Namjoon’s hand cups your cheek, as if he can tell what you’re trying to say.
“Yeah,” he breathes. The inches between you turn to centimeters, to bare millimeters. Your eyes flutter close as you feel his breath dance over your lips and your heart beats so loud you’re sure the entire household can hear it. He’s right there and moves in to close the distance—
“Knock Knock!!”
The forceful, cheery voice of cousin Jungkook forces both of you to jump away from each other as if you’ve touched a burning stove. Your head feels light, like you’ve forgotten to breathe for the last ten minutes and you’ve suddenly taken in too much air.
The wooden door squeaks open and Jungkook pokes his head in, a shit-eating grin on his face.
“Auntie sent me to get you. It’s dinnertime!”
Namjoon rubs his face frustratedly. “Yes, thank you, Jungkook.”
Jungkook doesn’t leave, however. He smiles at you and winks.
“Would you like an escort to dinner, madame? You look tastier than the roast beef downstairs.”
A blush creeps over your cheeks as Namjoon storms to the door where his cousin laughs.
“That’s enough, Kook. We’ll be down in a minute.”
He sends you one more grin, then retreats from the door and closes it behind him.
“Sorry about that,” Namjoon apologizes. You’re not sure what he’s apologizing for—Jungkook, or the moment before.
“It’s alright. Let’s go?”
Namjoon nods and holds out his hand with a smile.
“Let’s go, girlfriend.”
Dinner with the Kim family is as delightful as every other interaction with them has been. They’re polite and funny and ask questions about your life and your family.
They ask how you met Namjoon (at work), what your favorite quality about him is (his smile and his ass), and what your first date together was (coffee at seven in the morning).
You tell stories of Namjoon in the office, of your best friend Park Jimin who’s secretly trying to date the IT manager, of your parents and Christmases past.
By the time dessert is served, Namjoon’s mother looks at you as if you’ve put the very stars in the sky.
Namjoon doesn’t miss that look either. He can see the way his family is falling in love with you and somewhere deep in his stomach, he feels the guilt rising. All of this is a lie. Not only is he going to break his own heart, but every heart of his family member’s too.
“We’re all just so overjoyed that Namjoon has found someone to share his life with,” his mom speaks softly. It’s the first time she’s been thoughtful and quiet. She’s a woman who’s larger than life, you’ve found, so the softness in her tone strikes a chord. “You’re absolutely perfect for him. I’ve never seen him happier.”
Fuck.
“Thank you,” you murmur sincerely to his mother. “I’ve never been happier.”
Namjoon peers up from where he’s been pushing around his uncle’s famous chocolate cake on his plate to watch as you speak.
“Truthfully, I never cared much for Christmas. I thought it was a rubbish holiday and spent it alone every year with a bottle of wine and some takeout. Namjoon really changed that for me,” you smile at the man and place your hand in his lap to hold his free hand. “He showed me more about Christmas in one week than I’ve felt in my entire life.”
Namjoon’s mom wipes away an errant tear and he squeezes your hand under the table.
“I guess the Grinch’s heart has grown 3 sizes, after all.”
Namjoon’s joke lightens the soft mood, and suddenly there’s chatter around as the family members move about to wash dishes and clean up the mess of dinner. Everyone leaves the table except for you and Namjoon.
“That was some good acting,” he whispers with a sad smile.
“Right,” you whisper back, nibbling your lip anxiously. “Acting, of course.”
You should have thought through the bedroom sharing thing more.
Because sharing a bedroom is one thing.
And sharing a bed is another.
And of course, the only pajamas you thought to bring tonight is a very sexy long shirt that says “no coffee, no talking” with a bedazzled pair of shushing lips. That’s it. Just a single shirt. Not even a pair of shorts or pajama pants.
You slip into the bed first, as far onto one side of it as possible. It’s a king sized bed, and it still feels too intimate, too close.
Namjoon exits the bathroom after his shower, rubbing at his wet hair with a towel. He’s shirtless, wearing only a pair of flannel pajamas, leaving his bare chest on display.
Sweet lord in heaven, you nearly cry out loud. He’s absolutely ripped, pecs defined and droplets of water from his hair streaming down. You want to chase each drop with your tongue and circle back again. You shut your eyes tight and clench your teeth. Why, oh why, does he have to look so fucking sexy at a time like this?
Namjoon sees you at the edge of the bed, shutting your eyes closed like you’re a shy schoolgirl afraid to see a naked man’s body. He feels guilty for making you be here. He knows you’ve likely got better things to do than spend time with a man you openly hate.
“I’m sorry,” he apologizes for nothing in particular.
You ignore it. Instead, you’re trying to think of every un-sexy thing in the world you can possibly imagine. Taxes, a bunch of bees, old people, shark attacks.
There’s absolutely nothing that can stop the image of Namjoon’s perfectly sculpted body from bursting into your mind. You’re nearly pleading with yourself to just go to sleep and contemplate how hard you’d need to hit your head to knock yourself out as fast as possible.
“I’ll sleep on the floor,” he says as he grabs a small throw blanket from the closet and throws it to the ground by the fire.
It snaps you from your musings of how best to forget how badly you want to suck Namjoon’s cock through his pajama pants.
“What?” You sit up in the posh bed and finally make eye-contact. “Why? It’s freezing. There’s a literal snowstorm outside.” You motion to the window of the balcony. What was once a gentle snowfall is now a full-on winter storm.
“There’s a fire. I’ll be fine, I sleep hot anyway.” Namjoon’s voice is low and without energy. He almost sounds sad.
God, is being with you that hard for him? You know you’re just the artificial replacement until he has the real thing, but you’d actually hoped Namjoon had found it as comforting and warm as you had.
“Namjoon,” you sigh. “This is a king-sized bed. You don’t need to be waking up with back pain because you gallantly slept on the floor.”
To emphasize your point, you tug back the blankets on the other side, beckoning him to join.
He hesitates for a moment, as if he’s weighing the pro’s and con’s and sliding into bed next to you in his mind, then stands and pads his way on the plush carpet towards the bed and slips in.
There’s an entire football field of distance between you two in the bed, but it feels like he’s right beside you. You imagine sliding in right next to him, wrapping your arms around his taut chest and pressing soft kisses to his stomach.
You squeeze your eyes closed again. Stop it, you horny slut.
“Thank you, again.” Namjoon breaks the silence. “I really appreciate you helping me out.”
“Yeah,” you swallow hard. “Of course. What else was I going to do? Jimin’s probably sucking Yoongi’s dick right now, so I’d be watching baking shows alone.”
Namjoon laughs for a moment, then quiets.
“You know, I don’t even really want that promotion at work.”
You’re surprised by the sudden change in topic, but you turn over to face Namjoon.
“What?! Really?”
Namjoon nods and stares at the ceiling. “I don’t think I’m that good of an attorney to get it, anyway.”
His statement makes you sit up in bed again, staring at the man in disbelief.
“Are you fucking kidding me, Namjoon? You’re the best lawyer in the firm.”
Namjoon says nothing, just turns to stare at you curiously as you continue.
“You’re like… literally better than Seokjin, too. The way you handled the Taehyung case was nothing short of historical. Like, that was an impossible case, and you nailed it. That was your ‘OJ’ case, you know?”
Namjoon barks a laugh.
“My what?”
“Your OJ case!” You use your hands to emphasize the importance of what you’re saying. “Like, they’ll write about you and how impossible the odds were of winning that case. And you won it! Not even Seokjin could have won that case.”
He’s silent again, watching as you speak directly from your heart with all the fire and passion you feel about the things you care about. It’s what makes you such an incredible lawyer, too.
“Wow,” he breathes. “Thank you.”
You settle back down from your excitement, suddenly bashful at how fanatical you became.
“You’re welcome,” you murmur. “You deserve that promotion. And the office.”
Namjoon smirks.
“And the Nespresso?”
Your eyes narrow and send a glare to him he can see even with the faintest of light in the room.
“No, no one deserves the Nespresso, except for me.”
He chuckles and settles down into his pillows.
“Goodnight,” he whispers.
“Goodnight, Namjoon.”
There’s a beat of silence and your eyes flutter shut easily. It’s quiet, and all you can hear is the crackle of the log in the fireplace and the wind blowing past the balcony windows as the storm outside rages.
“Oh,” Namjoon whispers again. “And, Merry Christmas.”
You can’t fight the smile that creeps onto your face.
“Merry Christmas, Joonie.”
“Happy Christmas!” A voice bellows through your bedroom at approximately seven fifteen am.
You groan, immediately grimacing and burying your face into your firm, warm pillow.
“Nooooo,” you whine, trying to hide from the offending noise.
Namjoon shakes awake, and notices Jungkook standing at the bedroom door once again.
“It’s time for presents!” He giddily explains. “And, they gave me the job of waking you two up.”
“Of course,” Namjoon yawns.
“You look a little wrapped up,” Jungkook smirks, eyeing your sleeping body. “I’ll give you two a minute. Don’t get distracted.”
Namjoon rolls his eyes and watches as the door closes, before he turns his attention towards you.
Somehow, in the middle of the night, you’ve scooched yourself to his side of the bed and draped your body around his. Your face is buried in his chest and your legs are haphazardly intertwined in his own.
He bites his lip. His cock is rock solid, not just from his usual morning wood, but from the way he can feel your tits through your shirt, and from the sight of your pink panties. Namjoon wants to take them off with his teeth and bury his face in your delicious cunt, and his cock is nearly screaming at him to get on with it.
“Hey,” he whispers to you, actively ignoring the demon that is his turgid length. “Wake up.”
This causes you to cling harder to his chest, rubbing your sleepy face on him.
“What is it with you and early mornings?” You ask, blearily raising your head to peer at him judgementally.
Namjoon bites his lip, curious about your reaction to the tight embrace you’ve got on him. He doesn’t want to say anything, doesn’t want to break the spell. Frankly, he wants to push your sleep shirt up and stuff you full of his cum.
“Merry Christmas?” He offers shyly.
You take a full minute to recognize what’s happening.
You’re no longer on your edge of the bed. You’re wrapped around the man like a koala, legs strewn over him without care and clinging to him like he’s a lifeline.
“Oh!” You gasp as you jerk out of his grasp.
In your movement, your leg brushes over an obvious tent in Namjoon’s pants, making him groan softly. You shut your eyes, embarrassed at how disgustingly horny you are for the man who’s not even interested in you sexually.
“Christ, I’m so sorry,” your cheeks flame bright red and you scoot further from him.
“No, no, don’t be,” Namjoon wheezes as he tries to fix himself. “It’s fine. It’s more than fine. It’s great. It happens. Don’t worry.”
He continues to stammer out reassurances as he leaves the bed and bolts into the bathroom to fix his unruly tented pants, leaving you sitting atop the bed washed with shame.
“Fucking hell,” you whisper to yourself as you rub at your cheeks. “Get a grip of yourself.”
Inside the bathroom, it only takes Namjoon a few fisted jerks of his cock and the mental image of you beneath him, begging for him, until he’s silently cumming on an expensive towel. He bites his free hand to stifle the moans he makes as his cock pulses.
By the time he arrives back in the bedroom, you’ve changed into a hoodie and yoga leggings that accentuate your ass so delectably that Namjoon thinks about turning right back into the bathroom for a second round.
“I’m sorry!” You nearly shout when he walks into the room. “About the bed. You were warm and I was cold. That’s all.”
Nmajoon simply nods, doesn’t want to have to explain how he wishes he could wake up like that every day. Doesn’t want to describe in vivid detail how he’d wake you up with his tongue buried deep in your cunt.
“Let me grab a shirt and we’ll head out, yeah?”
Your eyes dance over the defined ridges of his body, a little crest-fallen at the idea that this might be the last time you see him shirtless, but you nod anyway.
“Yeah.”
The ring box sits in a deceptively large box beneath the tree. Namjoon wrapped it last night and hide it at the very back. His heartbeat hammers in his ears as his family passes around gifts and opens each with squeals of delight.
His mother gave him new ties for the office, ones that Namjoon prefers. She’s even gifted you with jewelry, which makes your eyes water at the sentiment.
It all begins to be too much. It’s harder and harder to hold back the tears as each of Namjoon’s family members gives you gifts. It doesn’t matter the value, not at all. The fact that they specifically set out to include you in their gift-unwrapping makes your heart snap in two.
This is all too much, it’s too real.
It’s everything you never dreamed you could have. A loving partner who lets you sit in the space of his legs and rubs your arms soothingly. A family who goes out of their way to include you in the abundance of love and company. A cabin so warm and cozy.
The tears don’t stop.
It’s at the end of the gift exchange that you finally allow yourself to breathe.
“There’s one more,” Namjoon whispers as he moves from behind you and fetches a large box from behind the tree. “It’s for you, princess.”
Curiously, and suspiciously, you eye him as he sets the enormous gift in your lap. You had done nearly all his Christmas shopping with him, and can’t remember a single thing he would have gotten for you.
“I hope it’s the Nespresso from your office,” you snark with a smile. His family members all laugh and exchange knowing looks to each other.
Namjoon doesn’t think he can breathe. He watches as you begin to carefully unwrap the large box, which reveals another box, slightly smaller. He can’t help but grin as you continue to unwrap the nesting-doll style gift until you’re down to the smallest one, the one that holds the ring box.
With one last tear of paper, your eyes widen as you recognize the velvet box.
“Oh--,” you breathe as you delicately pry open the gift.
Inside sits a dazzling and gorgeous diamond ring. It catches the light from the fire and sparkles like a firecracker.
“Oh my god,” you whimper as the tears flow again.
He’s proposing.
Namjoon settles himself onto one knee and tucks an errant piece of hair behind your ears.
“You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. I knew from day one that you were always the girl I wanted to marry,”
Namjoon’s speech sends daggers to your heart. He’s so convincing for something so counterfeit.
“I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember, much longer than we’ve been together. You’re who I want to come home to every night, and who I want to wake up with every morning.”
It hurts. It hurts so badly that you’re crying even harder as he continues to speak. His family must think you’re simply overcome with emotion and love that the crying doesn’t give it away, but inside you’re absolutely dying.
There’s no way you can recover from this.
Tomorrow, Namjoon will take the ring back to where he got it from and return to what he had before. He’ll leave you behind, broken and hopelessly in love with a man who faked a relationship so well that you fell for it, hard.
“____, will you marry me?”
You take several large, gulping gasps to reply. You can’t shatter the illusion. Namjoon’s parents are weeping with joy, while his relatives record the moment on their phones and wipe away errant tears. Even Jungkook looks soft, proud of his cousin for taking the next step in his life.
Oh, how you wish this were all real.
“Yes,” you lie with a smile. “Yes, Namjoon, of course!”
Namjoon grins and pulls you to standing, gathering you in his arms as he hugs you tight. His family cheers and hollers in the background, and you sob into his shoulder as you cling to him.
He easily slides the diamond ring out of the box and onto your finger, where it sits and taunts you. The weight is heavy, and you whimper at the realization that this will never be for you. It will sit atop a pretty model’s finger sometime soon, when Namjoon resumes his regular life.
“Oh, my darlings, I am so happy for you!” Namjoon’s mother appears and wraps you both in a hug, weeping and kissing cheeks. “We must discuss planning!”
It’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back. The tears and weeping turn to wracking sobs, which quiets the family as they watch you hold your face in your hands.
“I’m sorry,” you apologize through your grief. “I—I just need a moment.”
Without another word, you turn from the scene and bolt back towards the bedroom.
It’s silent and Namjoon’s heart sinks.
This must be too much for you, too much for you to pretend to love him. He knew it was too much and he should have discussed it with you beforehand.
“She’s just a little err--,” Namjoon tries. “Easily emotional. I’ll go check on her.”
His family understands as Namjoon hurries towards the bedroom and gently opens the door.
You’re sitting over your overnight bag, trying to shove any clothing into it you can, while you sob openly.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I should have told you. I sort of... told my mom I’d be proposing to my girlfriend.”
There’s pain in your eyes as you snap your head up to look at him. It nearly destroys him.
“You should have warned me!” You gasp. “Namjoon, I can’t do this.”
Namjoon lowers his head and shoves his hands into his pockets of his pajama pants.
“I get it. I know you want to go back to your regular life. I can take you home now.”
You’re silent for a moment, standing and moving towards the man.
“Don’t you get it, Namjoon?”
He raises his head to look at you curiously, brow knitted together with confusion.
“I’m in love with you, you asshole!” You cry, pushing at his chest. “I can’t continue to pretend this is real anymore. I love you, I absolutely love you and I can’t go on watching you pretend you love me too. It’s too much for me to handle.”
Namjoon’s world freezes in time as he watches you slide the ring off your finger. He grasps your hand to stop you, his eyes boring into your own.
“I never had to pretend.”
Before you can speak, Namjoon cups your cheek and pulls you in close, mouth sealing over your own in a desperate kiss.
You don’t fight it, not at all. You sink into his grasp and kiss him back with fervor, with all the pent-up emotions you’ve held back all this time.
“I’m in love with you,” he whispers as he pulls away from the kiss. “I meant every single word I said.”
More tears stream down your cheeks, and Namjoon is quick to wipe them away with his thumb.
“I know it’s maybe too soon for us to really be engaged, but I—I want that, with you,” he adds. “I want you to be my girlfriend… for real.”
“Are you being serious right now?” You ask as your hands cling to Namjoon’s waist.
He can’t help but to laugh, nodding in reassurance as he leans down to press his lips to yours in a tender kiss.
“Never been more serious in my life.”
“I can’t believe you’re mine,” Joon murmurs into the nape of your neck.
You were supposed to be driving home to your apartment now, back to real life, but the snowstorm raged on and Namjoon decided it might be best to spend yet another night in the cabin. Together. As a couple. A real couple.
You didn’t put up much of a fight.
He’s pressing soft kisses into your tender skin as he closes the door to the bedroom.
“All mine, all mine.” He chants it like a mantra.
You’re trying to maneuver your way into the dark bedroom, only guided by the light from the fireplace. Namjoon stops you and pulls away from your neck, eyes soaking in every inch of you.
“You have no idea what I’ve been dying to do to you,” he speaks after a moment of appreciating your beauty.
“Hmm, I think I have some idea,” you say, a finger at Namjoon’s chest, directing him towards the bed. “I’ve been dying to suck your cock, Joon,” you whisper in his ear as he makes his way backwards. “Will you let me?”
Namjoon nods in a daze as he sits on the edge of the bed and watches as you kneel. Your eyes are full of hope, full of lust. It makes his cock harden further.
“Please do,” he breathes. “I’ve wondered what you’d look like with your mouth full of my dick.”
You smile as you tug at his flannel pajama pants, pulling them down thick thighs and calves until they’re completely off. Your mouth waters at the sight before you. Namjoon’s cock is thick, head weeping with pre-cum and straining hard against his taut chest. He’s been working out more, you can tell. His arms are full and strong, and his chest is so firm and defined.
He’s an entire three-course meal.
Before you move closer to his cock, Namjoon stops you.
“Take your shirt off.”
You comply easily, already settling well into an obedient role. He discards the shirt to the side and marvels at your breasts. He can’t wait to mark them up, suck them until you’re crying.
“Perfect,” he sighs. “You’re fucking perfect.”
He allows you to resume your work, eyeing the length of his cock before wrapping a hand around it and gently pumping.
“Shit,” he breathes as his head falls back. “I’ve dreamt about how it’d feel having my cock in your hands.”
“What else have you dreamed about?” You ask with a teasing smile, bringing your lips to the tip to paint tiny stripes. He tastes salty, somewhat earthy, and the pre-cum that’s gathered at the top gets swept up by your tongue.
Namjoon can’t believe how lucky he is. Can’t believe how incredible it feels to have you here, licking at his cock like a lollipop. He’s enchanted by the way your delicate tongue swirls around his head, testing and teasing.
“You look so good, princess,” he whispers as he tucks stray hair behind your ears.
You’re encouraged by his sweet-talk and soon descend to take his cock fully in as far as you can go. You’re definitely out of practice, but you steel yourself up to take him completely to the back of your throat. Namjoon’s desperate moans and cursing only encourages you further.
Soon enough, you’ve started a rhythm of bobbing your head and swirling your tongue and pumping your hand down his thick length. The noises leaving your mouth are sinful—slurping and sucking and whining around him. Namjoon’s got a hand on the back of your head, holding your hair in a makeshift ponytail and coaxing your bouncing head further down his cock.
“Oh, shit, baby,” he grits through a tight jaw. “I’m gonna cum baby girl, fuuuuckkk—oh god, yes baby, just like that.”
You slurp and swallow around his cock as much as you can, head bobbing at a frantic pace while you cast your eyes upwards to the man to watch him come apart. He meets your eye contact and loses it at the fire burning in your beautiful eyes.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he gasps as his cock pulses. “Cumming, baby—ohhhh, shit, take it all, baby.”
After slowing your pace completely, you sweetly moan around his length as his salty cum splatters on your tongue. Bringing Namjoon to climax with your mouth is already one of your favorite hobbies, and you’re desperate to do it again.
When he’s completely spent in your mouth, you pop off carefully and present your tongue to your boyfriend, who smiles.
“You gonna swallow my cum, baby girl?” He asks, cupping your cheek sweetly.
You nod in reply, and he groans as he watches you close your mouth and visibly swallow his load.
“Fuck, that was so hot. Fucking kiss me already,” he demands, pulling you up gently by the hand and pressing his mouth to yours. He doesn’t care if he can taste himself still lingering in your mouth. In fact, he thinks your mouth should always taste like him.
Namjoon holds you close as he kisses you, tongue diving around and seeking purchase in your mouth. His hands are roaming your body, cupping your breasts and caressing your curves. He can’t get enough. He doesn’t think there will come a time in his life when he won’t love touching you.
His hand smoothes over the satin of your panties and he smirks into the kiss as he feels how wet they are.
“Oh my,” he tuts as he rubs at your clothed slit. “All this from sucking my cock, princess?”
It’s too late to be ashamed of it. You simply nod and whimper as his thick fingers rub at your core. You’re dying to feel those fingers inside you, scissoring you open to prepare you for his massive cock.
“P-please,” you gasp, needing more of him. “Please, Joon.”
He lets out a breath of contentment, loving the way his name sounds in your breathy moans. In one quick swoop, he flings your panties off and onto the floor and slides down to his knees where you knelt moments before.
“I want to see this pretty pussy up close,” he murmurs as he lays you out at the edge and spreads open your thighs as wide as he can.
You’re gorgeous, absolutely mouth-watering. He licks his lips as he watches your folds drip with arousal and takes a delicate finger to trace the slit gently.
“Fuck,” you gasp as he swirls his finger around your sensitive clit. It’s been so long since someone else has made you orgasm, you’re sure you won’t last a second with the man of your sexual dreams face-first in your cunt.
“This is my pussy now,” he states as he leans in close and licks a fat stripe from your hole to your clit. “I’m going to make you cum every fucking night, baby. Gonna claim this cunt as my own.”
You’re trembling from his words and his actions as he soon buries his face into your pussy and eats as if he’s a man starved. His tongue swirls around your hole before swiping up to your clit, making your back arch and keen off the bed. His lips wrap around your throbbing clit and sucks gently, lewd noises echoing off the walls of the bedroom.
“Namjoon!” You squeal as he slides two of his fingers inside you and slowly pumps. They’re thick and perfect, and they’re better than you could have ever dreamed.
“Cum for me, baby,” he coaxes as he licks at your clit. “I know you want to.”
He’s right. You’re desperate for it and the string inside your belly that tightens with each thrust of his solid fingers has it nearing a snapping point.
Namjoon speeds up, adds a third finger and fucks into you like a man on a mission. He watches your face pinch in agonized delight and is hypnotized by the way your tits bounce with each thrust up. His cock is rock solid again, aching to bury itself deep inside your womb and coat you with his cum.
“That’s it, baby girl,” he breathes as he watches your body quiver. “Cum on my fingers, let daddy see you fall apart.”
He presses his lips to your clit one last time and sucks, and it sends you reeling over the edge into bliss. Namjoon moans as he feels your cunt convulse and squeeze his fingers as if they’re his cock, and he nearly whines at how good it’s going to feel when he’s balls deep inside of you.
“Fuck!” You cry as your back lifts off the bed and your legs shake. “Oh, my god!”
Namjoon kitten licks at your pussy as you come down, cleaning up the juices that coat his fingers. He doesn’t break eye contact with you as he does it, sucking up your essence like it’s an expensive wine he won’t waste a drop of.
“You’re so fucking sexy,” he says as you try to catch your breath. “I can’t wait to fuck you in my office.”
The smile on your face turns lustful as you spread your legs open once again and present yourself to him.
“Why don’t we practice right now?”
Namjoon grips the base of his cock and gives himself a few pumps as he stares at your gorgeous body—laid out and ready for him.
“Merry Christmas to me,” he murmurs as he presses a kiss to your lips and lines himself up.
In one swift motion, he slips inside your juicy channel and buries himself to the hilt. You’re so wet and warm and tight that Namjoon falters and groans out loud.
“Holy shit,” he cries. “Sweetest fucking pussy I’ve ever felt in my life.”
Namjoon filling you up to the brim is something you’ve only ever dreamt of, and now that it’s happening you feel intoxicated. He’s so thick inside you, stretching you past what you thought you could handle, and the burn is so sweet.
“Fuck me, Joon,” you beg as he continues to still inside you. “Please, fuck me, daddy.”
It’s the magic word for Namjoon and instantly he’s snapped back to feral, ready to claim you as his own. He grips your hips tightly as he pumps in and out of you, delighted by the squelching juicy sounds of your cunt as he takes you.
“That’s right, baby girl, I’m your fucking daddy,” he grunts. “Take this fat cock for daddy.”
Your legs quiver with each thrust and Namjoon sucks a nipple into his mouth, nibbling gently on the bud which makes your body thrum with electricity. He’s marking you, claiming you inside and out, you realize. You whine and keen for him to continue, and Namjoon growls as he doubles his pace.
He thrusts into you without abandon, desperately seeking his release that will have him spilling his cum anywhere he possibly can.
“Mmm, look at my pretty princess,” he groans as he stares at your blissed-out face. “Taking daddy’s cock so good, being a perfect little slut.”
His words make your eyes roll back into your head. You’d never had someone speak so nasty to you while being so kind and praise-worthy that you don’t think you can now ever live without it.
“G-gonna cum, daddy!” you cry as you feel your body nearing the edge. “Please let me cum!”
Namjoon gasps for air and drops a thumb to your clit to rub circles on the sensitive bundle.
“Yes, baby girl, cum for daddy. Cum on my cock, princess.”
Namjoon’s unrelenting pace and thumb handily stroking your clit brings you to the end, sending you screaming into orgasmic delight.
Namjoon nearly weeps at how good your cunt feels convulsing around his cock, walls coaxing him and gripping him tight as if your pussy is begging for his own release.
“Cum inside me daddy, please,” you beg as you try to catch your breath.
Namjoon needs no more permission. He gasps as your channel tightens around him impossibly and sends him into his own release. He whimpers as his cock pulses with ferocity, loads of cum splattering your walls.
He doesn’t pull out. Instead, he rests his sweaty forehead on yours as you both try to catch your breath.
“Holy shit,” you gasp as you feel yourself returning to Earth.
Namjoon laughs and presses a kiss to your lips, before nodding.
“Yeah,” is all he can manage.
After a few shuddering breaths, you wrap your arms around your boyfriend’s naked body and hold him close, as close as you can.
“If this is what Christmas is all about, sign me up.”
Namjoon buries his face into your neck and kisses you sweetly, before lifting and giving you a playful smile.
“I guess all Scrooge needed was a good fuck. Dickens got that part all wrong.”
Returning to work after the New Year was easier this year than it had ever been in your career.
Namjoon was given the promotion. He told Seokjin he wanted to keep his corner office near you because he “likes the view”, and that he would give all his top cases to the best lawyer in the office—you.
Jimin won’t stop screaming when he sees the diamond ring on your finger. You haven’t wanted to take it off since the moment you put it on. Maybe it’s not an engagement ring quite yet, maybe it’s just more of a promise. Either way, Jimin is ecstatic and confused as he shakes you down for answers.
He walks with you to your desk, chattering away about his week with Yoongi, while you sip your convenience store coffee.
“What the fuck?” Jimin asks as he notices something on your desk. “What is that?”
As you round the corner, your eyes catch sight of a gleaming silver contraption on your desk, right next to your brand new computer.
A Nespresso.
A smile crosses your lips as you approach the expensive machine and notice a folded up card on top.
Inside, the card is simple.
“To the only girl in the world who deserves a Nespresso. Love, Namjoon.”
taglist - @ardoren @devilion14 @bykookie @rageyoudamnednerd @holynamtiddies @thejooncrew @dee-ehn @yrc1963 @fireheart2003
#bts smut#bts fanfic#kim namjoon smut#rm smut#namjoon smut#ficswithluv#rockin around the christmas tropes#bts imagines#bts reactions#kim namjoon imagines
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i hate you.
| 1940s!bucky x reader | fluff | smut |
requested. greaser!bucky au. enemies(?) to lovers. @fitzfiles and i are shamelessly indulgent
bucky made up his mind, he was going to win you over.
Bucky Barnes was the asshole across the street with the stupid loud motorcycle and white tees and leather jackets. You hated him.
“Hey, doll.”
You heard it every day when you came walking home from school, books in hand. And every day, it irritated you. You would scowl at Bucky, and he would flash his stupid smirk and wink at you.
You’d see him shirtless at night, smoking out on his porch. Once, he caught you staring out the window, and he’d teased you about it the next day on your way off to school.
“Checking me out last night, doll?”
“Don’t call me that. It’s Y/N. And no I wasn’t checking you out. I was watching you die slowly of lung cancer,” you snarked, making him throw his head back with laughter.
“If smoking doesn’t kill you, I will,” you muttered before going inside of your house.
“JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES!” You screamed, throwing your front door open. You were wrapped in a blanket over your thin pajamas, and you were infuriated.
“What?” He called with a stupid amused look on his face.
“It’s five in the fucking morning! Stop revving the engine on your motorcycle! You’re waking up the whole neighbourhood!”
“You’re the one screaming.”
“I hate you,” you seethed.
Without breaking eye contact, he revved the engine again. You were so irritated you could cry, and you resolved yourself to go back inside, refusing to let Bucky get the satisfaction of seeing your reaction to his antagonizing.
This had gone on for months. You were able to ignore him most of the time, but he was persistent. Your friends joked that he was in love with you, but you couldn’t imagine it. Bucky was delighted to get you worked up, and he was proud of himself for it.
“You’ve all lost your bloody minds,” you assured your friends, dragging them inside as Bucky whistled at you from across the street.
“He’s just my annoying neighbor.”
Bucky seemed to be always washing his yellow car in his driveway. You’d come home and see him shirtless, in low-rise jeans that showed off v-lines, bent over the hood of his soapy car. If it wasn’t the car, it was his motorcycle. He always winked at you or blew you a kiss, making you shake your head or roll your eyes.
You hated to see him washing his car, because it made it that much more difficult to deny how incredibly gorgeous he was.
Bucky delighted in getting you worked up. He loved to see your cheeks flush pink and the way your nose scrunched up at his banter. He had a crush on you, ever since he moved in, and he always loved your attention, even if he got it by antagonizing you.
Bucky did intend to get in your good favor, but you had made up your mind that you didn’t like him. Bucky was determined, and loved a challenge.
Bucky decided his opportunity to win you over was when it was pouring down rain. The morning had started out sunny when you’d walked to school, but the weather had turned rapidly mid-morning.
He got in his yellow car, and drove to the college in town, parking outside and going into the lobby with an umbrella. He leaned against a railing, waiting for you to get out of your class, to give you a lift and keep you from getting soaked and ruining your books.
As soon as it started to rain, you’d fretted about getting home. You didn’t have any friends that drove, and you had been debating whether to wait out the rain or just brave it and get wet.
You definitely didn’t expect to see your neighbour leaning against the railing in the front lobby.
“Hey, doll.” He grinned, standing when you approached him. He had ignored the stares of the other girls, everything else disappearing when he saw you.
“Bucky, what are you doing here?” you sighed, blushing at the stares you got, everyone hearing his term of endearment for you.
“I brought my car, I didn’t want you to ruin your books and get wet by walking home in the rain,” he answered honestly, surprising you.
“You drove here to pick me up?”
Bucky nodded, and you fought off a small smile. You didn’t like him, and you were annoyed, but the gesture was thoughtful, and much appreciated. You rationalized the soft feelings by claiming it was basic decency, and it was necessary that you had to take him up on his offer.
“Okay.”
You took his arm and he opened his umbrella, keeping you dry as he helped you into the passenger seat of his yellow car. You set your books on the dash, leaning back against the leather seat. As he drove, the radio played smooth jazz, surprising you a bit, as Bucky didn’t seem like the jazz type.
“Bucky, you’ve missed the turn.” You said, and he only smiled, biting the inside of his cheek. Your heart rate increased as he drove into the city and you whipped your head to look at him.
“Where are you taking me? I thought you were taking me home!”
“I am taking you home, eventually,” Bucky grinned, and you could’ve screamed.
“You can’t just abduct me! Where are we going?! I will throw myself from your moving car!” You snapped, panicking.
“I’m not abducting you! I’m taking you to have some fun, because all you do is study and it’s made you wound tight!”
“You’re kidding me. I’ve got to write a paper!” You cried, and Bucky just laughed, shaking his head.
“Just relax, Y/N.”
You gave him a scathing look, crossing your arms over your chest.
“You’re insufferable.”
“Most say charming.”
You followed Bucky into a roller rink, rolling your eyes but secretly excited about rollerskating. You slipped your feet into white skates, thankful today you had chosen to wear pants.
You stepped onto the rink with Bucky right behind you. It had been a while since you skated, and you were a bit unsteady on your feet. You pushed forward, putting your arms out for balance as you tried to get used to the feeling of the wheels under your feet.
“Careful!” Bucky exclaimed when you nearly fell, catching your waist to steady you. You gasped, your hands going to his arms for balance. A blush spread across your cheeks, butterflies erupting in your stomach at the gentle, caring way he touched you.
“Thanks,” you smiled, pushing off his arms and skating smoothly around. He fell in rhythm beside you, skating to the music.
He tried to show off by skating backwards, but lost his balance and fell, making you shriek. You moved toward him quickly, and held out your hands to help him up.
“Are you alright?” You asked, and he nodded, biting back a smile.
“I’m fine, I’m okay.”
You decided you’d had enough then, and the two of you resorted to eating pizza at a parlor down the street, Bucky insisting on you needing dinner before you went home. You shivered as you stepped into the air-conditioned restaurant, coming out of the warm summer evening. Bucky slipped his black leather jacket from his arms and put it on you when he noticed. You whispered a soft thank-you, pulling it tightly around your smaller body. It smelled faintly of smoke and castile soap, like him.
Bucky couldn’t take his eyes off of the sight of you wearing his clothes, his heart stirring as you hugged it around you.
“Feel better?” Bucky asked as you bit into a slice of pizza.
“I’m not going to let you take credit for loosening me up.”
“Oh, I haven’t even tried to loosen you up yet.” He joked, making you choke on your water. You glared at him for the suggestive comment, and he smirked.
You blushed at the insinuation, images of intimacy with Bucky flashing through your mind. He didn’t take his eyes off of you, and you shifted under his gaze.
“Smartass. You still abducted me.”
“And you’re enjoying it.”
You took another bite of your pizza, finally breaking the intense eye contact.
Even though you had enjoyed the night with Bucky in the city, and you’d gone home full of butterflies, he had quickly managed to get back on your nerves.
Bucky’s friends came over to party, and they were loud, obnoxious, and kept you (and half the neighbourhood) up with their partying the night before you had a presentation at college. You were infuriated when you complained to Bucky, and he told you that you should’ve just come to party with them, since you were up anyways.
Then there was the fact that Bucky kept revving the engine of his damned motorcycle. You hated it, especially early in the morning when you were trying to peacefully trying to pour a cup of coffee.
You couldn’t stand him, and he just made you mad.
You hated his motorcycle, and you hated his arrogance. You hated how everyone dropped to their knees at his every whim. You hated when you’d see him painting his fence or working on his car outside, and he’d pull his shirt off when he saw you looking. You hated that Bucky smoked.
Mostly, you hated how everything Bucky did gave you butterflies.
Bucky adored the way your brow knit together when you glared at him. He adored the blush of your cheeks and the way you huffed in annoyance. He loved to see your eyes glitter with emotion whenever he got under your skin. He adored the way your eyes lingered on him whenever he was shirtless in the yard.
Bucky adored you.
The night was particularly warm. The summer heat had everyone on edge, and you and Bucky were no exception. The moon was the only light in the starless sky, a dark stillness settling over your neighbourhood. It was incredibly late, but you couldn’t sleep like everyone else. You had been enjoying the quiet loneliness of the night when Bucky had gone outside to the sidewalk. He was shirtless as he lit a cigarette, grinning at you.
“Hey, doll.”
“Don’t call me that,” you huffed, feeling like a broken record.
“C’mon, don’t be like that,” he blew smoke into the air, and you stood up off your porch swing. You walked across your small lawn quickly, until you were standing in the street.
“You shouldn’t smoke, it will kill you,” you quipped, making him roll his eyes.
“Don’t stand in the street, a car can come and kill you.” Bucky said back, though there was a tone of seriousness to his voice.
“It’s the middle of the night, no one is going to-”
Bucky suddenly grabbed you and yanked you toward him, making you shriek. Less than half a second later, a car without its headlights on came flying down the street.
Your eyes were wide with fright, unable to process that Bucky had just pulled you from in front of a car. His eyes blazed with emotion, and you tried to shove off of him.
“You almost fucking died! I told you not to stand in the damned street!” Bucky snapped at you, raising his voice.
“Don’t yell at me! I wouldn’t have been in the street if you weren’t such an asshole!” you shouted back, your eyes and throat burning, making your entire body tremble.
“Why are you so fucking difficult?!” Bucky’s fear at seeing you almost get hit by a car in front of him fueled his emotion, and he didn’t mean to yell at you, but the feelings were boiling over.
“Because you make me so mad, and because I love you, you idiot!” You screamed before you could stop yourself. When you said the words out loud, you realized you meant them, more than you meant any of the anger.
There was a deafening silence, and it was too late to take it back.
“Bucky, I-” you stammered, but he cut you off by crashing his lips against yours, pulling you into him.
Passion lit like a fire between you, and you reached up and held his face, kissing him back with force. You parted your lips and he slipped his tongue into your mouth, moving in sync with you, swallowing your small noises. He cradled your jaw as his mouth moved with yours, drawing you even closer.
The heat practically suffocated you, and you were completely lost in Bucky. He tasted like smoke and coffee, and his body was pressed against your own, overwhelming you with need. His hands slid down to squeeze your ass, and you rolled your hips against his as you moaned.
“I love you, Y/N,” he whispered when the two of you finally broke for air. He wasted no time before mouthing along your jaw, pressing kisses down the column of your throat.
Your hands ran down his toned chest, before hooking your fingers in his belt loops and tugging his hips closer against yours, wanting to feel him hardening against you. The heat between your legs was spreading, and you were aching for him.
Bucky groaned against your neck as you ground against him, and he backed you up against his car, needing to ground the two of you. He could hear your small, breathy pants by his ear and you were practically shaking with need.
“Bucky, please touch me,” you begged, months of sexual frustration pouring out all at once. Who was he to deny you? He kissed you deeply, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing him against your front.
Your breath hitched when he slipped his hand into your waistband, cupping your sex. You spread your legs a bit, and he slipped his fingers through your folds, tracing the shape of you.
He hardened at the sound of your soft moans and the feeling of you twitching against his fingertips. Neither of you cared that you were outside, on display for anyone who woke up in the night.
He found your clit, stroking it softly while you made out, swallowing all of your sexy noises. You were overwhelmed by what he could do with just his fingers, and you somehow needed him closer, even though your bodies were pressed against each other. Your body was buzzing with pleasure from his small touches alone, and you were having the same effect on him.
“Fuck, Bucky,” you breathed, lightly biting down on his shoulder to silence yourself as he eased a finger inside of you. He pumped slowly, and you took him in easily with how turned on you were.
“I know, doll, but I gotta warm you up first so I don’t hurt you.” He kissed your jaw, and a short laugh escaped you.
“Cheeky,” you hummed, palming over his crotch, making him push two fingers into you all at once. The air caught in your throat, but you kept feeling him up as he curled his fingers forward into your g-spot.
The way you were moaning his name was driving him wild, and he couldn’t draw out the foreplay anymore. You pulled your shirt over your head, thankful you had forgone a bra. Your shirt was discarded in the driveway, and Bucky tugged your bottoms down easily before lifting your nude body up onto the hood of his car. You leaned forward, undoing the button on his jeans and helping him out of them, your eyes widening when you saw how big he was.
Bucky grinned at you, able to read your mind, your thoughts evident in your startled expression. His ego definitely didn’t need the boost, and you blushed when you realized he was grinning at your observation.
Your tongue nervously darted out over your lips, and he couldn’t take it anymore. He lowered you to lay down on the cool metal, making you shudder when it came into contact with your hot skin.
You exhaled softly as his hands skimmed down your body in an attempt to ease your nerves. He leaned down and kissed you gently, bending your legs up to your chest.
“I’m going to make you feel so good, doll,” Bucky promised, and he meant it. You nodded, your head falling back as he slowly rocked into you.
Your vision focused in on the moon hanging above you in the sky, and you didn’t care about being outside, even as the warm breeze ruffled your hair.
“Bucky... fuck,” you whined, arching your back, pushing yourself further onto him. Your knees went over his shoulders, his hands coming to rest on either side of your head as he rocked his hips against yours.
The slow, deep rhythm had you struggling to breathe, pleasure rolling through your body in thick waves. Bucky was overwhelmed by the feeling of your velvety walls squeezing around him, tight as he fucked into you all the way.
“That’s my girl,” Bucky praised you as you pushed down to meet his powerful thrusts.
Your eyes rolled back at the praise, and you felt pressure building low in your belly as he repeatedly hit the spots inside of you that had you seeing stars. You were moaning his name and writhing below him, the sight making him nearly explode.
“Y/N,” Bucky gasped out, fucking into you roughly, one of his hands rubbing your clit to help you along before he couldn’t fight off his own orgasm any longer.
With the added stimulation, the pressure snapped inside of you, making you squeeze around him and come with a scream, not caring if you stirred the neighbours.
Let them see Bucky taking you on the hood of his car.
Your name fell from Bucky’s lips like worship, the feeling of your orgasm washing over you and forcing you to contract around him pushed him over the edge. He came inside of you, painting you with his release and prolonging your own pleasure.
You looked down at him once the buzzing pleasure started to subside, a sleepy smile on your face. He grinned at you, pulling you up into a sweet kiss.
“Still hate me, doll?”
#1940s!bucky#bucky x reader#bucky barnes#bucky x y/n#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes smut#bucky x reader fluff#Bucky x reader smut#1940s!bucky smut#1940s!bucky fluff#winter soldier#the falcon and the winter soldier#the winter solider fanfiction#the winter soldier#avengers#avengers au#mcu#marvel#bucky barnes au#james buchanan barnes#greaser!bucky#bucky barnes x reader smut#bucky barnes x reader fluff#winter soldier x reader#sebastian stan#earl grey bucky
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Swing to the Stars
this fic swap is for @reidgraygubler ... I really hope you like it, shadow :)
A/N: AAAAH! this is my first fic swap and I’M SO EXCITED!!!!
Summary: Spencer meets someone in his little hiding spot, and desperately hopes to see them again.
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral!Reader
Category: fluff with a dash of angst
Content Warnings: mentions of Maeve & William Reid, talk of a case involving teens, mentions of bullying, mentions of guns and pepper spray (not used)
Masterlist
Word Count: 2.4K
___
The first time I climbed that treacherous hill, dirtying my converse for all to see what my night activities truly consisted of, I was alone. I enjoyed it like that, I came here by myself, and I intended to keep it that way. When I sat on the swing dangling by two dangerously flimsy ropes, I thought how ridiculously large the slap of wood used to make it was. My elbows were bent a little over a 90 degree angle just to reach both sides, but I never thought past it. I had other things on my mind that night.
I thought about my mom. I knew she would have loved a secluded, little space like this. She would’ve probably read to me here, using different voices that held deep emotion to convey each story with a precise amount of dedication and love. Each story to her was special, and I silently thank her every day for passing that trait down to me.
Unfortunately, if I thought about my mom, I thought about my dad. William was never a kind man, and I could pride myself on one thing; I would never be like him. He didn’t deserve to know a place like this. It was too serene, too beautiful to house a man so willing to abandon the two people who should’ve been the most important to him. I was glad he would never get the chance to sit on this swing.
I thought about my family. How Garcia would jump with excitement at the prospect of having a picnic overlooking the city, yet quiet and missing the sounds of cars zooming by or overlapping chatter. I thought about JJ, and how Henry would beg her to push him in the swing, because to a little kid, it was perfect. He didn’t look at the frayed rope and fear that it would snap. I hope he never starts to fear the world like that.
The second time I found myself back at the bottom of the hill, I made it halfway to the top before seeing a couple getting up from the swing they were sitting together on. I realized then why it was so comically large; it was meant for two people. Thankfully when I reached the top only half out of breath, the two were starting their descent to where I came from.
This time when I sat down, I thought about Maeve. I would’ve brought her here, shared the little secret corner of the world I built for myself. She would’ve loved something like this, and I know if life wasn’t so cruel, and I was given the chance to show her, we would’ve talked for hours. So that’s what I did that time; I talked to Maeve. To anyone else, I probably looked like a crazy person talking to himself, but much to my delight, not many people made the trip up the hill to find this place.
Now I go whenever I need a break from my mind, which unfortunately is more times than my schedule allows me to take that leisurely walk. I spend my nights sometimes after a particularly hard case there no matter the time, using the ropes that scratch my hands as my lifeline down to Earth. I watch the stars, screaming and cursing at the world in my head and waiting for the sky to respond. It never did, and the next case always came in the following morning.
This particular time that I found myself at the bottom of the grassy hill waiting to be climbed, the case I just returned from involved kids across the board. A teenage unsub was killing his fellow classmates that have wronged him. Unfortunately, the BAU had to witness his stressor recorded for the whole school to see. It involved vile insults being thrown at the young, defenseless boy only for the bullying to escalate to violence.
It was awful.
As I trudged up the hill with less excitement to look into the vast unknown than usual, I couldn’t stop thinking about the unsub. All he wanted in life was a friend, someone to talk to, laugh with, share memories together. No matter how wrong it was, I saw myself in him. Our souls held the same scars given to us by people who had no right to go digging for such a deep part of ourselves. If I didn’t make it, would I have turned out like him?
When I reached the top, completing my journey once again, I saw them. Sitting there, staring out into the sky, mimicking my thoughts to do the same on the jet ride home. I could only make out half their face lit up by the light casting down from the full moon, but I didn’t need to see more to know they were breathtaking.
I would have turned around to return home to nothing more than books reread thousands of times and stale coffee, but I already made the mistake of stepping on a rather large branch that broke in half. The crunch coming from their right immediately had them on edge, and reaching for their bag that I could only assume had some sort of weapon inside. I hope it was legal.
I felt terrible for breaking them from the trance they were in. They were deep in thought about something that was probably going to become a solution if I hadn't interrupted their musing.
“H-hi, I’m sorry to scare you. I didn’t expect anyone here this late. Not that you being here is a problem! I didn’t mean to disturb you,” I frantically shouted, although there was less distance between us than I originally thought, and probably seemed crazed by my volume level.
They just giggled at first, but upon seeing my distraught expression, their face turned more kind than humorous.
“That’s okay. I’m just glad I didn’t jump so fast to pepper spray you. That would definitely be the worst case scenario.” I let out a breath of relief for some reason. Here I was, in front of a total stranger thankful that their weapon of choice wasn’t a gun. I’ve been on the wrong end of too many during my years.
“Did you know Chemical Mace, more commonly known as pepper spray, was invented in the 1960s by a man named Alan Lee Litman and his wife Doris Litman at the time. Their reason was actually because one of Doris’s female coworkers was attacked and robbed, so they thought to create a nonlethal weapon with easy accessibility and use, considering not everyone is able to use a gun. It wasn’t until 1987 however that the Litman’s sold their creation to Smith and Wesson where it was mass produced and later sold to law enforcement.”
“Wow, I don’t think I did.” They laughed again, but something in my heart told me it wasn’t meant to come with malicious intent. “Do you do that a lot?”
“Do what?” I asked, even though I had some inclination of what they were referencing.
“Spout random facts. I’m not complaining, that was very cool, but I am fully intrigued.” They smiled again at me fondly, the kind of smile that left me a little breathless, even more so than the 45 degree incline I had to climb to find myself in front of them. There was nothing to convince me they weren’t authentic in every word they stated.
“I do it quite often, yes. It gets annoying after a while though.” It was true, I was told on many occasions that my rambling got old very fast. I suppose that’s what happens when you’re close to me for too long. I tend to stop being the awe-striking genius, and become the nagging, walking encyclopedia.
“I don’t see how that could become annoying.” It sounded sad coming from them, like I had insulted their oddity. I would never, and I was really hoping to find out what it was.
I had nothing further to say that would express my shock, and slight fondness over their praise, wary of its honesty even if it did come from them. I hadn’t known them for more than 4 minutes and 36 seconds, but it was enough to figure out that they weren’t a liar. It wasn’t from profiling either.
“You know, there is room for two people here if you wanted to join me. I’m sure you didn’t climb that hill for nothing.” They continued for me. If they noticed my surprise, they said nothing about it.
Usually, I would be skeptical of being in a close proximity with a stranger, but as I approached them carefully, even if their hand was no longer reaching for mace, I felt the passing between our eyes. It was as if we had shared every part of ourselves with eye contact, and as crazy as it sounds, I felt the somber thoughts that lingered from their previous reflections.
So I sat down, grabbing onto only one of the scratchy ropes, and enjoying the way I could rest my elbow against my side now that I was using the swing to its fullest potential. I stopped caring about the probability of the ropes snapping under our combined body weight. The worst that could possibly happen was I bruised my tailbone a little bit, but I wouldn’t care past the initial embarrassment. At least I had someone to show that with.
“Do you ever think about what’s out there?” They asked once I was settled on the wood slab as comfortably as I could muster. Being boney didn’t necessarily help. Before I could answer, they continued. “I can tell you’re a man of science, if the fact dump wasn’t any indicator, but I mean beyond the facts, and the known.”
“No, I don’t think about it.” It was a lie, I think about it every time I’m here, but I wanted nothing more in this moment than to know how they saw the stars.
“I do. Quite frequently, actually. I mean, I’ve read every book there ever was about the stars and space, but there is still no answer to my question.”
“What question?” I had to know.
“What’s exactly written in the stars,” they replied, using their hands to showcase the sky above us. I sat back and thought for a while. Like the books they’ve read, I too didn’t have the response to their question. God, how I wish I did.
I don’t know how long we sat there quietly. One of the perks of total darkness in the dead of night is that the moon couldn’t tell time the way the sun did. We got lost in the cosmos together, contemplating sharing our own troubled thoughts with each other. It would have felt right if we did, but alas, the ringing of my cell phone dropped a pin in our reflections.
“I- I’m sorry, I have to take this,” I rushed out before standing up and accepting the incoming call from Penelope. I knew it was a case before her bubbly voice rang through my celular. I allowed the disappointment to bleed through my tone when I told her I would be back at the BAU shortly, hoping that the small release of the emotion would be enough to ward it off in time to turn back around.
It didn’t.
They were already looking at me expectantly when I made my way back to the swing, bending down to retrieve my satchel I had abandoned on the ground. The amount of guilt on my face must have been enough to tell them I had to leave abruptly, despite the fact that the only thing I wanted to do was stay for even just a second.
“That’s okay,” they spoke softly, giving me a tight lipped smile. “We’ll see each other again.”
“How do you know?” I couldn’t help but be skeptical. Life never did work out in my favor. They looked up at the sky once more before answering.
“Just a feeling.” I let a full grin break out at their response, the first one I’ve had when visiting this place. I turned around to start my journey back to the office where dark, and twisted things lurked behind manilla folders. Before starting my descent however, I spun around quickly, almost losing my footing and taking a tumble.
“Woah there tiger, don’t hurt yourself,” they giggled at me, one that I returned with my own breathy laugh.
“I just don’t know your name.” It baffled me a little bit that I hadn’t thought to ask before this, but they just gave me one last smile, tilting their head in faux contemplation.
“Ask me next time.” I will.
***
It’s been a year since I met them, and I haven’t seen them since. Not for a lack of trying however. After that case, I went there every night until a new one arose, this time taking me to Oregon. They hadn’t been back, and part of me wondered if it was because of me. Did I not try hard enough the first time? Should I have ignored my ringer until my phone had 5 missed calls from Penelope?
But then my eidetic memory swooped in to save me from going down that road, one of the only times it wasn’t the cause of my self destructive thoughts. Because while I replayed the conversation over in my head wondering where it went wrong, I remembered their eyes, and their smile.
I remembered what it felt like to sit with them, and thankfully that was enough to convince myself our meeting wasn’t in vain.
I never was the kind of man to believe in the universe. The whole notion that “everything happens for a reason,” felt like a lie created to somehow blame an external force on the chaos in one’s life. There were so many things in my life that had no reason for happening, and to blame that on anything or anyone but myself would be a cheap excuse of a way out.
But for some odd reason, the universe aside, I believed in them, and strangely enough, I don’t think they would have blamed me for the life I had to live. So, as I sit down tonight on this familiar piece of wood, I choose to stare at the stars instead of the ground, and believe that if I spoke aloud, maybe they would hear me.
And they did, because my efforts to sit on one side of the swing in case they returned to me were not in vain. I didn’t look over, I didn’t have to to know it was them. I had already relaxed once their presence was known in my peripherals.
“Y/N,” they spoke, causing me to change my view on the stars to their side profile. It wasn’t all that different than staring at the constellations spread around us. “My name’s Y/N.”
___
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Take my breath away (Caspian x reader)
MASTERLIST
Paring: Prince Caspian x Reader
Universe: The Chronicles of Narnia
Word Count: 1601
Warnings: mention of sex
Summary: The one at the morning after their wedding
Author’s note: I got next Caspian fic for you! I hope you’ll like it!
I have small request for you. Could you please take a few seconds to leave a comment? It means a lot to me!
In advance, I am sorry about every grammar mistake and misspellings. English is not my first language.
Klaudia xx
Y/N woke up, feeling warm rays of sun on her face. She closed her eyes again with a smile, feeling warmth spread over her cheeks. She bit her bottom lip, when Caspian pulled her closer to his naked body in his sleep. For the first time, she woke up as a married woman. Her mind was full of memories from the day before. She saw in her memory her ladies-in-waiting helping her prepare for the ceremony. She remembered how the lace of her white dress fell against her skin. She wanted to laugh at how nervous she was, walking through the aisle, holding her father's arm. Just one look at Caspian's eyes helped her calm down. He looked so dashing and regal, waiting for her in his uniform. All ceremony was like a dream to her, and the only thing that she could recall was Caspian - how he glanced at her, how he touched her hand, how delicately he put a ring on her finger and how soft his lips felt against hers when they kissed for the first time as a marriage. Later, they made their way to the castle by carriage. All the time they spent there, Caspian held her hand, and they waved to their people. She was so surprised when she saw so many of them on the streets, calling their names, that she shed a few tears.
Reception was amazing. Decorations of the ballroom were beautiful, and the food prepared by cooks was delicious. Part of that night, which became closest to her heart was their first dance as a married couple. She loved dancing with Caspian from the very beginning on the day when they met. When she heard the sound of her favourite Walz, she felt like they were only people in the room, like everybody despaired. Caspian held her close to him, with a big smile on his face and teary-eyed. She felt magic filling her heart when he placed a soft kiss of her lips, not paying attention to the people around them. At the thought of the night, she felt her cheeks becoming hot, and familiar arousal blossoming in her stomach.
After maids helped her change into her nightdress, she waited nervously for Caspian in their chambers. She sat on their bed, playing with the sleeves of her dressing gown. She heard so many stories about the first night of a married couple, and she didn't know what to think anymore. Some women in the court told her that it's painful and unpleasant, on the other hand, some women spoke about how caring their husbands were, and it was a new level of love they could discover together. She touched her new ring softly and smiled. Caspian was an amazing man who already showed her how much he cares about her wellbeing. She didn't have any reason to be worried, but she couldn't soothe your fast-beating heart. She heard the doors opening, and she looked that way. She saw Caspian standing there, glaring at her with amazement. She stood up, biting her bottom lip, watching him coming to her slowly.
"Y/N… I thought that you looked stunning at our ceremony, but now…" she smiled softly, looking at her feet, and he kissed her on the forehead. "You are so beautiful, my darling." He gently touched her hair that he had seen them loose for the first time. She looked up at him and smiled, feeling heat coming to her cheeks. "I… We don't have to do anything if you don't want it. And if anything made you uncomfortable, tell me about it, and I will stop."
"Caspian, I… I want it. I want to know everything that came with married life. I'm just a little nervous. It's the first time when I'm standing before a man only in my nightclothes." She laughed nervously and looked at how he intertwined their hands. "It's the first time when... a man will touch me. I heard some stories. Ladies on the court spoke that this could be unpleasant or painful." She knew that she started to mumble, so she closed her eyes for a second, taking a deep breath. "But it's you. And I know that you won't hurt me. And because it is you, I'm not afraid."
She smiled again, placing her hand upon his heart. He gently lifted her other hand and placed a kiss on her wedding ring.
"It's new for me too… I'm still not sure what I should do. And the thought that I could hurt you, it terrifies me. This night should bring pleasure for both of us, and I will try to do everything it will be a pleasure for you."
"So we need to find our way in this."
Caspian landed down and placed a soft kiss on her lips. Carefully he put his hands on her hips, when she stood on her toes to deepen a kiss. He felt her hands slowly start to unbutton his uniform. He smiled on her lips, slowly taking off her bathrobe. She felt shiver going from her spine, feeling Caspian's hands on her body. They slowly made their way to the bed, taking off his clothes. They both took their time to know their bodies. Their first time was awkward. They both laughed, discovering ways to show their love to each other. Both of them wanted to find a way to bring pleasure to the other person. Happily for them, they had all night for this and had enough time to try this multiple times.
In the morning, she looked at his sleeping form. She couldn't help but smile at the sight of the wedding ring at her finger, her hand laying on his chest. She looked up at his beautiful face, and her heart warmed up when she saw his dreamy smile. She already loved how relaxed he looked when he was asleep. She gently brushed the lock of hair that fell over his forehead and leant down to place a kiss there. Y/N began caressing soft patterns on his muscular chest and abdomen. She was in awe how sailoring and training with the sword kept him in such a good shape. She placed a kiss upon his heart and looked at his face. He still had closed eyes, but she could tell that he wasn't sleeping anymore because of his smile. She bit her lower lip, trying to hide a chuckle at this sight. Slowly, she moved her leg through his abdomen, and her guesses turned out to be true when he placed his hand on her thigh. She left a track of small kisses to his jaw, when she moved her body to sit on his lap. She softly kissed his lips and giggled when he returned the kiss. She raised her head and smiled when she looked in his eyes.
"Good morning, my dearest husband." She whispered, feeling warm spread from her heart. Caspian smiled with delight, moving his hands to her hips and squeezed them softly. He watched how amazing she looked in the light of the morning, with messy hair, swollen lips and naked body not ashamed of anything in front of her husband. When he heard her calling him that way, he could swear that his heart missed a beat. Even before their wedding, he loved the thought of being called a husband of this amazing woman. When she was the one who said that, it was the most enjoyable thing he heard in his life. Just in this one word, he heard all her love for him.
"Good morning, my sweet wife." He found himself grinning when she started to giggle with bright eyes. She kissed him again, taking his face in her hands. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm good. Actually, a lot more than good." He moved some lock of her hair behind her ear, kissing her nose. His lips slowly made way to her collarbone, leaving wet kisses on her soft skin. He smiled, hearing her soft whimper when she tilted her head back and moved her hand to his hairs. He pulled her closer to his chest and bit her skin above her breast. He couldn't help but start chuckles, hearing her squeal. She began to laugh and looked at his eyes.
"How many days are we off?" Y/N asked, still brushing his hairs with her fingers.
"Only this week… I tried to ask the council for more, but advisers want to show the queen for our people." He watched with a smile how their cheeks became darker. He perfectly knew that she was insecure about taking her duties as a queen and was afraid that people would hate her. He hoped that their carriage ride yesterday showed her that most of them already love her.
"I think that it will take some time for me to get used to this title…" she said quietly, biting her lower lip.
"It's possible… But I will be next to you in all the way." He watched how the corners of her lips raised slightly. He gently squeezed her thighs and placed a lingering kiss on her forehead. "But don't worry about this now. We have few beautiful days just only as a husband and wife."
In one soft movement, he made her laid on her back carefully. He moved himself, and he hovered over her, supporting himself on his arms. She laughed softly, and when he kissed her hungrily, she groaned in his lips.
They lost themselves in each other, and together they reached the stars.
#prince caspian x reader#prince caspian imagine#prince caspian x you#prince caspian#king caspian x reader#king caspian imagine#king caspian x you#king caspian#caspian x reader#caspian imagine#caspian#the chronicles of narnia#narnia#ben barnes character fic
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All Things Come to an End
A/N: This is my collab piece for @quirkyseastone 's milestone event!
Enemies to Lovers + Fairy Tale AU + Bakugo
Synopsis: When it is time for the heir to the throne to seek a spouse, one champion a month is chosen to go through a series of challenges. Bakugo is the first champion from his village to be chosen in several years and he will do anything to win. You, the heir to the throne, are terrified of change, and will do anything to keep it from happening.
Word Count: ~3.5k
The buzz of the hall came to an abrupt halt as he came onto the stage; Yagi Toshinori, the previous champion had at long last come to pick from their village.
“Hello, citizens of Eikka! As you know, the royal family is still looking for a worthy partner for the heir. Many of you are gathered here today for a chance to join the family, whether that be for social reasons, for wealth, or just to prove you can. Regardless, only one of you has been chosen.”
“This month’s champion, from the village of Eikka is…”
Amidst the anticipation of the announcement Bakugo balled his fists, hoping no one would take notice of the way his nails dug into the soft flesh of his palms. His eyes darted from person to person, heart racing as they waited.
“Katsuki Bakugo!”
He felt like he couldn’t breathe, had he heard right? Was it actually him? Arms shoved him towards the stage and he stumbled up the stairs. The lights were blinding, he’d waited for this moment for so long, and now it had finally arrived.
“Bakugo, what are you hoping to achieve this month? Not just for yourself but for your village?” Yagi asked, eyes fixated on the young man.
Bakugo blinked, trying to adjust his eyes to the bright spotlights.
“Honestly, I just want to win. I will give this village the honor of having its champion become the first in its history to become a part of the royal family.”
Yagi smiled, nodding at his answer. He then grabbed Bakugo’s arm, thrusting it up towards the sky,
“Citizens, your champion!”
-
You sat leaned back in your chair, feet on the desk as you read the file you were given. You sighed, giving an incredulous look to your first knight, Keigo,
“This is this month’s champion? How boring.” You tossed the file onto the desk with the others from the previous months, “He’ll probably give up within the first week.”
Keigo tutted, “Now now Y/N, I would give him more credit than that. He is ranked number one in his village in all the important areas.”
You scoffed, “Except in diplomacy. How am I supposed to lead beside someone who can’t negotiate his way out of a paper bag without ripping it?”
The corners of Keigo’s mouth twitched, “I’m sure you’ll manage just fine.”
-
Bakugo walked home, chest puffed out and heart soaring. Midoriya, his childhood friend and rival, walked with him, a much shyer figure compared to the newly chosen champion.
“I always knew you could do it.” Midoriya said, eyes sparkling.
Bakugo laughed, “Of course! I always knew I was worthy, now’s my chance to prove it.”
Midoriya paused, shoulders tense, “Aren’t you afraid you might die? The last champion didn’t come home.”
Bakugo stopped in his tracks, causing his friend to nearly stumble.
“Why would I be afraid of a silly thing like death? I’m way too good to die.”
Midoriya straightened, extending a finger and poking him in the chest, hard.
“You better not. I’ll never forgive you if you do.”
-
Bakugo stood at the edge of the forest, heart pounding as he prepared to set off on his journey. This would be it, the fruits of his labor, everything he had been working towards would be decided this month. Everyone in the village had come to see him off, but he had shooed them away, telling them he needed his concentration. Even though it appeared they had left, it still felt as though there were eyes watching him, studying his every move, waiting for him to fail.
He walked, careful to move as silently as possible; oftentimes champions were ambushed in the forests outside their towns, usually by a nameless jealous person who was afraid of their dreams of wealth and fortune being dashed. There was a large crack of wood, and Bakugo spun around, knife clutched tightly in his hand.
“There’s no need for all that, it’s only an old man.”
Bakugo studied the figure before him, it did appear to be an old man, harmless enough, but there was no telling if he had allies in the woods, waiting, watching.
The man laughed, a gravelly sound that grated in Bakugo’s ears. “I brought you an amulet.” As if sensing his inevitable protest, the man continued,
“You may not think you need it, but every little bit of protection helps doesn’t it?”
Bakugo frowned, head cocked to the side as he studied the situation, worst case, he could die, but then again he had a real possibility of doing so in the challenges, or best case, the amulet really would protect him.
He took the amulet from the man’s outstretched hand and put it in his pocket.
“I can’t promise that I’ll wear it, but thank you.”
Bakugo turned on his heel, knife still clutched tightly in his palm, and set off on his journey.
-
“Lame!” You threw a piece of popcorn at the crystal ball you were watching Bakugo through. “You can’t just take the amulet, you have to at least say no first.”
You looked at the papers on your desk, the final preparations for your challenges were made, all it needed was your signature and everything would be complete.
Stealing a glance at the crystal ball showing his progress you smiled, “Ah, I can’t wait to crush another one.”
-
The path to the castle was steep and winding and Bakugo’s legs were aching by the time he reached the gate. A pair of trumpets announced him and the gate opened to reveal you standing there, your first knight just behind your shoulder.
“Greetings champion, I am the royal heir, Y/N.”
Bakugo bowed his head and opened his mouth to introduce himself but you waved him off.
“I know who you are. Katsuki Bakugo, selfish man with an artificially inflated ego who thinks he is better than everyone else.”
His cheeks burned at your words but he held his tongue, there was no way for him to talk back here, you were royalty and despite appearances, Katsuki knew his place.
You smiled, “Congratulations, you just passed your first challenge.”
Katsuki’s head snapped up, “Really?”
Your smile immediately disappeared, “Of course not. You really think winning my hand would be that easy?”
His cheeks reddened, embarrassed that he had fallen for such a petty trick.
Waving your hand in the air, you turned to walk away.
“This will be hell, I’ll make sure of it. Keigo will take you around the grounds and show you to your quarters. I expect you to come to me at 7 sharp in the morning.”
Keigo bowed as you walked away and you were quickly accompanied by several other attendants.
Keigo took a moment to look over Katsuki with his keen eyes, narrowing them, he cleared his throat.
“Y/N is really something, don’t you think?” He said, an almost daring tone in his voice.
Bakugo’s brows furrowed as he studied the older man, “Yeah, something.”
Keigo turned and set a quick pace, enough that Bakugo had to jog to keep up.
“Here are the training grounds, you can use them at your leisure though I can’t say how much good it’ll do you; for most of the challenges you aren’t allowed to use weapons. The castle gardens are that way, the heir can often be found reading there. There is the castle, obviously.”
Bakugo tried to take in as much information as he could in the short span he was given. Keigo led him inside and the pair walked up a long staircase. A simple door lay in front of them, wooden and unimpressive looking.
“Your quarters are here through that door, try to get rest when you can, you’ll need it.”
Keigo pointed down a hallway, “Down there is the tower. You’ll go there to meet with the heir to get your challenges. This is where I leave you, there is a kitchen stocked with food in your quarters, I presume you can make your own meals, yes?”
Bakugo nodded and Keigo nodded in affirmation.
“You shall meet the heir in the morning to receive your first challenge. Get some sleep.”
“Yes sir.”
-
The door to the tower stood large and intimidating; he knocked once and the door opened, revealing a long winding staircase. When he reached the top, he hesitated, thumbing at the amulet that lay under his clothes. This is stupid, how is an amulet going to help me?
The door opened to reveal Keigo, and Bakugo strode in after a quick bow to the heir.
“Greetings Heir.”
You smiled but it lacked warmth, “Good morning Champion. Are you ready to receive your first challenge?”
“Yes I am.”
Your smile widened, “Glad to hear it. Just to refresh your memory, you have 5 challenges to complete, with varying degrees of difficulty.”
“Yes Heir.”
“Your first task will be to retrieve a pearl necklace from the bottom of the nearby lake.”
Bakugo stiffened, it was winter outside, the water would be ice cold.
“Yes Heir.”
-
Bakugo tried to hide how he was shivering, but the erratic fog of his breath gave him away. The knight accompanying him tried to reassure him with a smile.
“There are 85 pearls in a necklace.” The knight said quietly, as Bakugo stood at the edge of the lake.
Bakugo turned to look at him, “Excuse me?”
The knight said nothing further.
-
He could feel the icy water in his veins, in his very soul. It was cold, so very cold, and he had only found 20 pearls so far. He swam to the surface once more, adding a singular pearl to his pile on a tree stump.
Before he dove again, he tapped the amulet, secretly hoping it would bring him strength through this trial. This time when he dove, the water felt warm and when he reached the sandy bottom he found a long strand of pearls.
When he emerged to count them, he was delighted to find that it was a string of 65 pearls, missing 20 to make an even 85.
-
You hissed as he pulled the long string of pearls from the water. How did he get that? I cut those off myself.
There was a knock on the door and it opened to reveal Bakugo, dripping icy water on your floor while holding a complete pearl necklace. He walked towards you and bowed at the desk you sat behind.
“May I put the necklace on you?”
You hummed an affirmative, and he came behind you, shaking hands dripping ice cold water down your back as he tried to clasp the necklace. You hissed from the cold, but the more overwhelming feeling was the heat that seemed to radiate from him. He was so close, for some reason it made your heart beat faster, and that made you seethe with anger.
“Congratulations, you have successfully completed the first task. Go rest and save your strength for the day ahead.”
As soon as he was out of earshot you stood, slamming your hands on the desk.
“Keigo!”
“Yes, my Heir.”
Your head snapped up to meet his gaze, “Was that just a fluke? I cut that necklace myself, there should have been 85 individual pearls and one string with a clasp at the bottom of that lake.”
Keigo’s expression was unreadable, “I don’t know, but I shall endeavor to find out for you.”
He left you sitting at your desk, chewing on your lip in frustration.
-
“Your next task is translating a love poem into the ancient language.”
The paper given to him read as follows,
‘I have loved you since before my first breath and will love you long after my last
You are like the breeze on a hot summer's day, refreshing and just what I need
I will be by your side until the end and beyond it, we are bound by fate forever’
He had spent hours in the library, flipping between pages and pages of books that might give him an answer.
-
You smiled thoughtfully, “Look at him Keigo, so lost in thought. He should be stuck on this one for a while.”
-
As Bakugo pulled book after book off the shelf with no success he absentmindedly thumbed the amulet. He turned the corner to make a pass at a bookshelf he had cleared and there was a single book still left on it. A quick glance showed it was exactly what he needed and he had to restrain himself from running back to his work station.
-
You frowned as you watched him and it deepened as you realized which book he was reading.
“I don’t understand, I removed that book from the library myself.”
Your brows furrowed as you rewound the footage, it was subtle, but you saw Bakugo’s hand briefly go to his chest. There was a flash of silver and you gasped, “It’s that damned amulet, it must be.”
“Keigo!” You called, he appeared at your side at once, “I need you to do something about the amulet that boy is wearing.”
“I shall take care of it at once.”
-
Bakugo examined the manuscript. The poem was somehow more beautiful after you read the translation. He went to the tower with paper in hand, heart hammering at the prospect of reading it to you. The door opened for him immediately and he did the customary bow.
“You were able to translate it?” You asked, an almost imperceptible quiver in your voice.
“Yes, shall I read it to you?”
When you nodded, Bakugo held the paper before him and took a deep breath,
“I love you from my first breath and I love you after my last breath
You are like the wind on a hot summer day, refreshing and exactly what I want
I will be with you until the end, and we will be bound forever”
He hoped you couldn’t hear the shake in his voice as he read it.
You paused, cheeks hot with embarrassment,
“Congratulations Champion, you have successfully completed your second task.”
-
You sat on your balcony watching the moon when Keigo appeared next to you.
“Is it done?” You asked, not bothering to hide the shake in your voice.
“Yes.”
Keigo sat next to you on the lounge chair as you patted for him to sit down. You leaned against him, a silent plea for support.
“Keigo?” You asked after a while.
He hummed in response and you took a shaky breath.
“Is it wrong to be scared? There’s a very real chance he could win.”
Keigo wrapped his arm around you, it’s weight was a welcome comfort.
“Not at all, if he wins, your life will change. But all things must change at some point or another.”
You grabbed his arm with your own, holding it tighter against you.
“But I’m not ready to leave you yet.” You said quietly.
Keigo smiled sadly and kissed the top of your head, “Oh little bird, all things must come to an end. But I will be here always, your faithful knight, nothing more, nothing less.” We were never anything more.
You let the tears flow down your cheeks, Keigo held you as you cried long into the night.
-
The next challenge was to move a pile of boulders to the top of a tall hill without them rolling back down. Bakugo carried boulder after boulder up the hill but no matter what he did they would roll back to the bottom.
One of the boulders split and he got an idea, a sudden spark of innovation.
“Am I allowed to use items for this one?”
The knight nodded and Bakugo jumped up, grabbing an axe and a flour sack. He hacked at the boulders until the sun sank low in the sky and his shoulders were on fire, but when he was finished he had a large sack of pebbles.
He took it easily to the top of the hill and laid it down flat, it wouldn’t roll down the hill.
-
You couldn’t help but marvel at his idea, it required adaptability and working with materials you had that weren’t necessarily suited to the job.
He entered the tower with a bow, and you smiled a genuine smile.
“Congratulations Champion, you have successfully completed your third challenge.”
-
Bakugo couldn’t get your smile out of his head, now that he had seen it for real he never wanted to let it go. He somehow wanted to be the reason you smiled, and he would do anything to see it again.
-
“Your fourth challenge is to save someone in distress. Go to town and see what you can do.”
When Bakugo made it to the town he was surprised to find it remarkably empty for a place that was usually bustling. He wandered the city, and only found a dog with a hurt paw.
He sat down and pulled the medicine kit from his bag, coaxing the dog towards him. He gently cleaned and wrapped the dog’s hurt paw and sent her on her way, with a bit of food first.
-
Bakugo was sent to the gardens instead of the tower to receive his judgement, he arrived a bit early though and stumbled across you tending to your plants as you hummed. His heart clenched, it was a little adorable, seeing the normally closed off you so open while by yourself. There was something remarkably authentic about it, seeing your slumped posture, your genuine smile.
Once you noticed him you straightened your posture and your clothes, expression returning to the neutral one of a ruler.
“That was an interesting loophole you found there. Congratulations Bakugo, you have successfully completed your fourth challenge.”
My name. The Heir said my name.
-
“I think I want him to win, Keigo.” You said softly, voice scarcely above a whisper.
Keigo smiled, “That’s wonderful Y/N, I’m so glad.”
You didn’t notice the sadness as he left, nor the tears brimming above his cheeks.
-
“Your fifth and final challenge is the most difficult. You must bring me back a ruby from a dragon’s horde without weapons.”
Bakugo nodded and went to gather the necessary provisions for the journey.
It took four days to reach the mountain where the dragon lived, now he stood at the mouth of the cave, trying to stifle the nervousness threatening to explode from his chest.
He entered the cave with his hands up to show he was not a threat, all weapons left at the entrance to the cave.
The dragon regarded him curiously, “Who are you mortal? Why have you come to this place?”
“I am no threat to you. I only wish to make the one I love happy.”
The dragon chuckled, pillars of smoke rising from its nostrils, “Oh? You’ve come here for someone else? How selfless of you.”
Bakugo shoved his frustration down in favor of taking a deep breath. “I only wish to make the one I want to be with happy.”
“And how can I help with that? Wouldn’t your lover be happier if you returned alive.”
Bakugo remained steadfast, stilling his rapid heart.
“I only wish for one ruby from your horde.”
The dragon laughed once more, this time emitting sparks, “And what shall I get in return?”
Bakugo somehow stood even taller, “An ally, who will make sure you remain unbothered on your mountain.”
The dragon considered his offer for a moment then nodded.
“Very well, you may have a ruby. Be warned though, if I find anything else missing our agreement will be void and I will attack your kingdom.”
He nodded. “Of course, thank you.”
Bakugo picked up his weapons and prepared for the journey back to the castle.
-
You couldn’t help but run to him as he knelt at the gate with the ruby in his hand. You waved him up with your hand and wrapped him in an embrace.
“Congratulations Katsuki Bakugo, you have successfully completed your fifth and final challenge.”
The king came out, announced by a fanfare of trumpets. “There will be a ball tonight in your honor.”
-
Bakugo took your hand in the empty hallway, wanting to pause before you went into the eyes of the public.
“Remember when you hated me?”
You snorted, “I never hated you Katsuki.”
He turned to you with a raised eyebrow, “Oh really? Then what was the artificially inflated ego comment about?”
You gave him a coy smile, planting a kiss on his cheek. “That was a test.”
You opened the door and stepped into the light, hand in hand, until forever.
-
All things must come to an end, but sometimes the good leaves to make room for something better.
#bakugo x reader#bakugo fluff#enemies to lovers#fairy tale au#katsuki x reader#gender neutral reader#aurora borealis
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Gentry and Gentlemen, Chapter One
Summary: Hermione Granger has just begun a new position of governess at Ottery Manor in the Devon Countryside, a world away from her upbringing in Regency-era London. There she meets a redheaded blacksmith man named Ron Weasley. Sparks may just fly between the middle class city woman and the working-class country man with a genuine and heartfelt charm all his own. (Jane Austen Romione AU)
Tagging: @hillnerd @nagemeikenu @acnelli @aimless-twig @femaledoubleagent @thehufflepuffpixie @adenei @abradystrix
~~~~~~~~~~
Read on FFN. Read on AO3.
~~~~~~~~~~
The Regency period is full of stories about dashing military officers and their lovers, titled men and women, and the romantic misadventures of the landed gentry. Almost always of young ladies of the gentry and their aristocratic suitors. Of money, land, and upper class goings-on. The sort of stories that have become synonymous with high romance, retold countless times since.
This is not one of those stories.
*
The stagecoach trundled along the country lane. It was the middle of April, and the Devon countryside was quickly losing any vestiges of the winter. Trees were growing green, bees were pollinating all manner of plants, and the lane was fast becoming dusty due to the lack of rain.
‘Oh, really, good sir!’ giggled a lady, her aristocratic manner evident in her voice. ‘You are a delight!’
‘My pleasure, good lady,’ replied the gentleman, a large tall man with a similar way of speaking. ‘I find myself inclined to be such when in the company of such an amiable person as yourself.’
There was a loud crack, as one of the stagecoach wheels hit a hole in the lane.
‘My apologies, ladies and gentlemen!’ exclaimed the coachman from above. ‘The roads have not been repaired after the winter rains!’
‘You’d think the locals would have done something about it,’ complained the gentleman to his lady friend. ‘But I suppose that is to be expected of being so far out from respectable society.’
The woman sat across from the couple stared out of the window, a slight frown briefly appearing on her face. Her fellow passengers did not notice this, and had made no attempt at conversation with her for the entire journey from Exeter. But she was somewhat glad of that.
She was a young woman, in her mid-twenties and, unlike the pair sat across from her, was not wearing the latest fashions of aristocratic society. Her dress was well-worn but functional, as befitted her position. Her hat was smart was simple but sturdy. Her face was impassive, yet strong, and her eyes - a dark brown- were piercingly intelligent. A parasol, far from new, was placed sensibly across her lap. Her shoes, polished but faded from use, were the sort worn by practical working women since time immemorial. However, in contrast to all this was her hair; an enormous bushy mane that strained against the many pins she had used to keep it in place. It was the sort of hair that you couldn’t help but notice, and it was perhaps for that reason that the young lady had chosen to keep her hat on in the coach despite the heat.
‘Final stop; Ottery St Catchpole!’
The coach trundled to a halt, and the coachman (whose name was Mr Jones) climbed down, pulling the small set of steps out from under the coach door. The gentleman helped his lady companion down, and the two of them sauntered away with their bags without so much as a thank you to the coachman.
Sighing to himself, the coachman turned.
‘Er… my apologies, Mr Jones,’ came a voice from within the coach. ‘Could you help me down, please?’
‘Of course, miss,’ he said, before helping the young lady down to the ground. ‘Allow me to help you with your bags as well.’
‘Thank you.’
As the coachman pulled her bags out from the luggage racks, the young lady stared down the street. The gentleman and his lady friend were laughing loudly to themselves outside one of the shops.
‘They were awfully rude, weren’t they?’
‘Afraid so, Miss,’ replied Mr Jones. ‘Many from London feel that Devon might as well be on another planet.’
‘I hope you won’t judge me by their behaviour.’
‘Oh, of course not, Miss…er… my apologies, my memory isn’t what it once was…’
‘Granger.’ Hermione Granger said, giving a small curtsy. ‘And thank you for keeping me company on such a pleasant journey, Mr Jones.’
‘My pleasure, Miss Granger,’ Mr Jones said, tipping his cap. ‘I’m surprised that such a pleasant young lady like yourself is travelling all alone, truth be told.’
‘Well, you see, I’m on my way to a new place of employment.’ Hermione said. ‘Ottery Manor; perhaps you know it?’
‘Oh, yeah, Miss. Very prominent local gentry.’
‘I am due to take up the post of governess for the young children,’ Hermione elaborated.
‘A governess, you say?’ Mr Jones said, looking very surprised.
‘Yes, I recently achieved my qualification, you see.’
‘Very impressive, Miss. Er… just a word of warning, if you please?’
‘Whatever for?’
‘Well…’ Mr Jones looked rather uncomfortable. ‘You are… that is…’
Hermione sighed. She had been expecting this.
‘Mr Jones, I am well aware that the colour of my skin is perhaps not what the locals are used to.’
‘Oh, no, miss; that’s not what I meant!’ Mr Jones replied, shaking his head quickly. ‘Good gracious, no! Plymouth isn’t that far away, and we’re used to seeing people from all over the world popping through. It’s just… the gentry round here… aren’t quite so relaxed about it as the ordinary people are.’
Hermione smiled. Mr Jones was a sweet old man who clearly wanted to warn her as best he could, even if he didn’t quite have the terminology correct.
‘Thank you, Mr Jones; you are very kind.’
‘My pleasure, miss.’
‘Could you… point me in the direction of the manor house?’
Mr Jones nodded, pointing along up the narrow winding street of Ottery St Catchpole.
‘You can’t miss it; the big house on the hill.’
‘Thank you.’
As Hermione made her way through the main street, she was aware of just how much of a different world this was to London, where she had lived most of her life. For one thing, people walked far slower and had a relaxed attitude in their comings and goings. One could certainly tell that the pace of life was slower.
Within a few minutes, Hermione had left the village, and headed along the country road up towards the manor house. The lack of rain had meant that dust was virtually inescapable, but Hermione preferred it to the mud she had been concerned about. She wouldn’t have wanted to make a first appearance with her best clothes dirtied. That would be most distressing. She, after all, was being entrusted with the care of the children of the local landed family, and ought to be presentable in a way that acknowledged that responsibility she was being granted.
Her stomach began to squirm, as her nerves became agitated. She had largely avoided thinking too much about it when she was travelling but, now that she was so close to the manor, she couldn’t help worrying. What if she wasn’t qualified for this? What if the other staff members didn’t like her? What if she-
‘NEIIIIIGHHHH!’
Hermione’s thoughts were suddenly interrupted, as a large horse rounded the corner of the lane, galloping as fast as it could, and heading right towards her. It was tall, brown, and looked startled, its eyes wide.
Hermione’s bags slipped from her hands as she stumbled backwards, but the horse was already barely seven feet away. With a cry, Hermione tripped over the uneven ground, her hat flying off her head.
The horse reared up on its hind legs, and Hermione found herself frozen on the ground. Hoofs began to fall.
‘WHOOOAAA!’
Suddenly, the horse was no longer there.
Coming to her senses, Hermione pulled herself to her feet, and collected her bags together.
A man, roughly her age, was stood with the horse a few feet away. The first thing of notice was his height, at least a foot taller than Hermione. His head was framed with short, red hair. Freckles covered every inch of skin that was on show. He was wearing a rough work shirt that was tied up to his elbows, and a pair of trousers that were slightly too short on him. A pair of tough work boots, that had clearly seen better days, completed the ensemble.
‘Sssshhhhh, Tiff….’ He soothed, stroking the horse’s neck slowly. ‘It’s okay, girl… no-one’s going to hurt you…’
‘Good grief!’
Another man had joined him.
‘Good thing you’re such a fast runner, mate!’
‘I try my best,’ replied the redheaded man. ‘Good thing we managed to catch her before she reached the village.’
As the horse was led away by the other man, the redhead turned and, spotting Hermione, ran forward.
‘Miss, are you alright?’ he exclaimed, coming to a stop in front of her. There was a splodge of dirt on his long nose. ‘Tiffany got spooked earlier, and we only just caught up with her. I’m so sorry; are you hurt?’
‘I’m… I’m fine, thank you,’ Hermione said, as a pair of bright blue eyes stared down at her. ‘Although I think my hat must have blown away in the wind.’
The redhead man looked around, and pointed up into the branches of a nearby tree.
‘You mean that one, with the nice bow?’
‘Yes, but-’
The man was up the tree in a flash, and was soon leaping down next to her again, holding her hat.
‘There we go,’ he said, handing it over. ‘Maybe a little dusty, but that’s the heatwave for you.’
‘Thank you,’ Hermione said, placing the hat on top of her bushy hair. The two of them began to walk up the lane. ‘I appreciate your concern, Mr…’
‘Weasley,’ the redhead said, smiling. ‘But there’s enough of the Weasleys around here, so you can just call me Ron. Everyone else does; it’d be confusing otherwise.’
‘I… I don’t think that would be appropriate.’ Hermione said, as she bent down to pick up her bags.
‘Why? We’re all people, aren’t we?’ Mr Weasley replied. ‘Oh, let me help you.’
‘Yes, but I’m…’ Hermione stammered, as her load was lightened considerably. ‘Well, I’m starting at the Manor as the new governess.’
‘Oh, you’re the teacher everyone’s been gossiping about!’ Ron said, cheerily. ‘Miss… Granger, if my memory’s correct?
‘W-why, yes!’ Hermione exclaimed, suddenly feeling rather embarrassed. ‘Er…gossip, you say?’
‘Yes; the scullery-maids have been talking about nothing else for the past week,’ Mr Weasley replied, keenly. ‘Well, that and the summer fete. But, yes; a posh lady governess from up-country coming down to our little neck of the woods! They’ll be delighted to meet you!’
Hermione felt her cheeks flush.
‘I’m not nearly as posh as all that, Mr Weasley,’ she said, primly. ‘So I hope I don’t ruin their expectations when they see me.’
‘Why? You sound posh to me.’
‘No… I… I mean… well, look at me.’
The redhead stared at her in confusion, and Hermione felt she needed to elaborate.
‘Surely they were expecting someone less… exotic?’
Mr Weasley blinked.
‘You are from London, aren’t you? That’s pretty exotic.’
Hermione found herself suddenly laughing. Not the usual polite laughs she had been taught as a girl, but a full, unrestrained laugh, full of accompanying snorts.
‘London… exotic?!’
Mr Weasley grinned at her, his cheeks dimpling under his freckles.
‘If you’re born and raised in Devon, it is,’ he said, cheerfully. ‘Besides, I bet that’s the first time you’ve laughed in a good long while.’
‘Why… yes, it is,’ Hermione replied, smiling. ‘However could you tell?’
‘I hear tell of the aristo’s who take the stagecoach routes down from London. I gather they aren’t much in the way of humorous conversation?’
‘You would be correct about that. But where do you hear that from? Mr Jones the coachman?’
‘Old Jonesey? Oh, yes; lovely old soul. I’m the… well, the blacksmith and the odd-job man for the estate, so I’m in and out of the village a lot.’
Hermione nodded, trying not to notice how well the redheads shirt seemed to fit him. She supposed blacksmiths were all rather… muscley.
Ottery Manor stretched out before them. It was a double-storied building, with fine windows and a pair of thick oak doors. The house was arranged around a central courtyard, so that two wings of the house stretched out in front. A small fountain marked the middle of the courtyard, and the centre of the house was covered in fine ivy. Grounds stretched out around the house in all directions, full of trees and well-trimmed lawns. Hermione could make out some distant greenhouses and vegetable gardens on the periphery.
‘You like the ivy?’ Mr Weasley enquired, pointing at the plant as they walked up the main pathway towards the house. ‘Me and my brother Bill -he works in the gardens- pruned them just last week; rather a nice effect, eh?’
‘Yes,’ Hermione replied. ‘Are all your siblings employed as members of staff here?’
‘No.’ the redhead said. ‘Percy -he’s the intellectual one- he works in Plymouth in an office. Fred and George -they’re the youngest brothers aside from me- work in the post office a few villages over.’
‘Any sisters?’
‘Just Ginny. She’s the youngest. Mum did want her to get a good job as a scullery maid, but Ginny’s always been more outdoorsy. She works in the gardens most of the time, but she sometimes helps me and Charlie in the forge.’
‘Charlie is… the main blacksmith aside from you, then?’
Mr Weasley laughed.
‘Yes, he’s always been good with animals, so he handles the shoe-fitting. I’m a bit of a jack-of-all-trades, myself; that’s why I’m the odd job man as well.’
‘There is nothing wrong with being multi-skilled,’ Hermione said, earnestly. ‘Most men in London would love to have a wide array of talents.’
Mr Weasley laughed again, his cheeks dimpling again.
By this point, they had reached the courtyard but, instead of heading for the front door, Mr Weasley lead her around one wing of the house and into a yard of sorts. Hermione could hear horses neighing nearby, and presumed that the stables weren’t that far away.
‘You’d best come through the servants entrance,’ Mr Weasley said, leading her up the rear side of the wing and stopping before a door, which was left open. ‘Not a good idea to get on the bad side of the footmen on your first day. Especially the head footman; he’s a right killjoy about these things.’
‘Well, I am a servant, technically.’
‘I know,’ Mr Weasley said, sighing. ‘But, if I had my way, we wouldn’t have to worry about separate entrances. We’re the people who actually keep this place going, not the aristo’s using this place like a retreat for when the season ends in London.’
Hermione felt rather shocked at Mr Weasley’s words, but she opted not to say anything. She could certainly understand his frustration, but she had never met someone who was so open about it.
‘The gentry often have friends and relatives down from London, then?’
‘Yes, but you probably won’t have to worry about them,’ Mr Weasley said, encouragingly. ‘They tend to stay away from the children if they can help it. This time of year, most of them are living the high life in London society; they shouldn’t be arriving here for another couple months.’
‘Well, I lived in London most of my life, but I already rather like it here in Devon.’
The redhead turned to look at her.
‘Really? Why?’
‘Well, judging from what I’ve seen so far, it’s quieter, for one thing. The pace of life in the city is far too extreme. Out here, you can hear the birds in the trees, see the bees in the hedgerows, smell the…’
‘Muck on the fields?’
Hermione laughed.
‘You’re very amusing, Mr Weasley.’
‘I try,’ the redhead said, his cheeks dimpling as he smiled. ‘Not very often I get the opportunity to make a woman laugh without making a prat of myself first.’
‘Oh, I-I’m sure all the local girls adore you.’
‘With five older brothers? I barely get a look in,’ Mr Weasley chuckled, his ears going a little pink. ‘But, thank you, miss.’
‘My… my pleasure, Mr Weasley.’
‘Mr Weasley, I trust you haven’t been frightening the new governess.’
A man had stepped out from the servants entrance. Judging by his dress, he was a footman of some description. His hair was surprisingly greasy, and he had a long, hooked nose. His voice gave an indication that he had taken elocution lessons to disguise a midlands accent.
‘Oh, no, sir!’ Hermione exclaimed, as the two of them deposited her bags near the door. ‘Mr Weasley came to my assistance when my hat blew astray on the front drive.’
Mr Weasley grinned at the footman.
‘Wouldn’t be a gentleman if I didn’t do so, sir.’
‘Mr Weasley… you are not a gentleman, and never will be. You are a commoner, and you would do well to remember it,’ the footman said, looking unkindly up at Ron over his long hooked nose. ‘Now, Miss Granger, if you would accompany me this way…’
As Hermione followed the footman, she happened to look back over her shoulder. Mr Weasley caught her eye, and mouthed “what an oily-haired git, eh?”. Hermione bit down on her lower lip to stop herself laughing.
*
On reflection, Hermione was rather embarrassed that she’d been so nervous about her first meeting with her employers. The lord of the manor seemed disinterested the entire time, while his wife asked a few questions about Hermione’s teaching qualification. In fact, Hermione spent most of the meeting nodding politely while the lady discussed the difficulty in finding a good governess in the local area, and that they appreciated that Hermione had come such a long way.
She was then escorted by the head footman back to the servants entrance, all the while wondering if all lords and ladies were so… underwhelming as people.
‘Thank you, but where should I-’
But the footman had already walked away.
Hermione looked around, her nerves building again. She didn’t know her way around, and she hadn’t even been told where her lodgings would be. Maybe she should-
‘All finished?’
Mr Weasley had poked his head through the door.
‘Y-yes,’ Hermione said. ‘But… well, where should I put all my…’
‘Oh, I’ll help you,’ Mr Weasley replied, cheerfully. ‘I can’t go into the women’s quarters, but I can let the scullery maids know that you’ve arrived.’
Turning, he knocked on a door.
‘Parvati? Lavender? The new governess is here; can you help her move her things into the women’s dormitory?’
There was a loud squeal from inside the room.
Rolling his eyes, Mr Weasley opened the door, and poked his head around it.
‘Oy; are you two finished?’
A few moments later, two women appeared from behind the door. Both of them dressed in the same simple uniform, and both roughly the same age as Hermione. They also both seemed to be very giggly.
‘Hello, Miss Granger!’ said one of them, who seemed to be of Indian descent. ‘Nice to meet you; I’m Parvati, and this is Lavender.’
Lavender, a girl with blonde hair that was pulled up under her bonnet, smiled.
‘Sorry we couldn’t meet you at the gates,’ Parvati said. ‘Me and Lav got a bit… distracted.’
There was a snicker from Mr Weasley. Lavender laughed, and slapped him playfully on the arm.
‘Anyway,’ Parvati continued, and Hermione was confused as to why the girl’s face had flushed at Mr Weasley’s comment. ‘We’ll help you take your bags up to the dorm.’
‘I wouldn’t want to cause you any trouble-’
‘Oh, it’s no trouble,’ Lavender said. ‘Besides, we never get to talk to anyone from London; do you know what the most recent styles are?’
‘Er…’ Hermione trailed off, as the two girls hurried along the corridor. She was about to follow, when she realised that the tall redhead was still there. She turned to face him again.
‘Thank you for all your help, Mr Weasley,’ Hermione said, giving a quick curtsy. ‘I am most pleased to make your acquaintance.’
‘As am I to make yours, Miss Granger,’ the redhead replied, his freckled cheeks dimpling once again. ‘Although, like I say, “Ron” is fine. There’s half a dozen Mr Weasleys here, so it just saves time.’
‘In that case, I will call you that,… Ron.’
The redhead grinned, before leaving to run across the wild grass nearby in the direction of the stables. The shirt Ron was wearing was, indeed, rather tight on him, and Hermione couldn’t help but notice how his muscles strained against the fabric as he ran, the sunlight reflecting beautifully off his red hair.
Hermione smiled, as she turned to follow Parvati and Lavender along the corridor. Ottery St Catchpole was shaping up to be a rather wonderful place to live.
~~~~~~~~~~
Thanks for reading, everyone! Hope you liked it! If you want to keep up-to-date with the series, please subscribe on AO3 or FFN, or ask me to add you to the tag list on Tumblr.
#jane austen#jane austen au#romione#ronmione#romione au#alternative universe#ron x hermione#ron/hermione#hermione x ron#hermione/ron#hermione granger#ron weasley#governess!hermione granger#blacksmith!ron weasley#background pavender
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Hi! I love everything that you write and heh I am a fan! 😄 tbh this is my first time requesting something on Tumblr! If you don't mind and if I am not being a bother...can you write about how the guys would react If MC suddenly starts making meme references? I don't know how I got the idea but I am REALLY curious. And love you! :D
Hiya! Tyvm for the kind words, and apologies that this took a while! I hope you have the chance to enjoy it regardless ❤️❤️❤️ Love you too, sweet pea! I promise to get to the next request you’ve sent ASAP~
Aight but this would be hilarious because the range of the reactions is just ungodly. I will be putting this under a cut after Napoleon so I don’t clog up everyone’s dash, but all the suitors are included below otherwise!
Comte is the one that recognizes a few, but didn’t really stay in modern times long enough to be as well-versed as a Gen Z kid might. Regardless he finds the wittiness and absolute chaotic fuckery to be delightful, and will 100% support the harmless nonsense. It never fails to get a laugh out of him
Mozart that first day be like: “Buzz off MC I hate you”
MC, because she likes swinging bats at wasps’ nests: “Well that’s not very cash money of you”
Mozart: ??????????
Comte, giggling in the bg like the secret fae he is
This one’s just because I’m petty, but after the events of Comte rt I just imagine them encountering Vlad again and MC’s just “I lived bitch.” while Comte is flipping him off behind her lkjahgkjhdsg
Comte @ Leo when he finds the latter under his desk: Had it not been for the laws of this land, I would have slaughtered you.
MC: wheezing from the hallway as she’s about to give him his letters
MC: So how was your day, honey?
Comte: Good, good--briefly had to go beastmode upon the punk that pilfered my lint roller
MC, biting her lip to keep from laughing: So does Leo still have his kneecaps?
Comte: for now.
Comte, @ literally anyone upsetting the MC: I won’t hesitate, bitch
Comte: Be careful with my emotional baggage, it’s designer
MC: What if I was evil and ran towards you at very fast speeds
Comte: My arms are strong, I would catch and hug you
Leo and Dazai are the ones that don’t have a single reference point but are filled with so much dumbass chaos energy that they just. Understand immediately???? Nobody knows how or why, but they just catch on so fast--adapt the language in a matter of weeks. Never underestimate the power of combined boredom, depression, and humor
I swear to god I just see MC taking them their Blanc/Rouge and being like “here you go sir, one enslaved moisture” and they just go fucking hog wild from day one. MC starts impersonating Theo when he leaves the room around Dazai, like fake deep voice “you all only hate me because you do not like me and I am mean to you. grow up.” Or like the MC meets a baby on her travels with Leo around town and she holds them and says v seriously and sagely “So you are Baby? I have heard tales of your exploits.” and Leo about loses his shit right there. They both think MC is the funniest person alive--they’ve never been more eager to throw a ring at someone in their entire life.
Also a bonus for my beloved Dazai:
MC, facing even the slightest inconvenience (like dropping her fork) in the most dramtic voice possible: Life is not daijoubu.
Dazai: wheezing
MC, after watching Theo turn down a woman at the bar in the meanest way possible: bro quit letting the darkness consume you u r scaring the hoes
Dazai, literally rolling around on the ground, half-drunk and dying:
MC, walking alongside Dazai and stopping to stare at her reflection in the River Seine. Dazai’s expecting some sad or twisted shit, since people often feel comfortable talking about those things around him, but instead she just: “Oh, it’s you. The source of all my problems.” And he about falls into the river from shock HAHAHA
At this point don’t be surprised if his next book is about an absolute madlad woman similar to MC
Napoleon finds it to be a delightful quirk more than anything? He doesn’t really understand it, but he finds it funny when they change their voice for effect or speak in exaggerated tones. If it’s just comprehensible enough for an outsider to understand--or Sebas gives him context--chances are it’ll send him into a laughing fit
For this one I just imagine MC singing that Ratatouille meme song obnoxiously bad while cooking, and Napoleon and Comte are just so wildly amused by it bc it makes zero sense and it’s only vaguely French at this point
MC @ Napoleon while they’re cooking brunch: Can I offer you a nice egg in these trying times?
MC, conflicted because she’s tired and wanted to sleep in but also got to see Napo’s cute sleeping face for a few hours: For my next stunt, I’ll wake up at 5AM on the day I can sleep in.
Sebas: Early to bed and early to rise makes a person healthy, wealthy, and wise
MC: early to bed and early to rise makes me a massive bitch
Napoleon: laughing in agreement
Isaac is the type to be bewildered and concerned at first (especially when he hears the more nihilistic ones hoOOOoooOO BOY) but eventually begins to understand it’s some bizarre attempt at humor (that hurts Zack baby). While some part of him laments that it reminds him of Dazai and he’s secretly jealous of how she and Dazai bond over it, he will sometimes join in the chaos when the mood strikes him and he’s feeling mischievous
Isaac: How are you feeling?
MC: Oh, I’m not
Isaac: seconds from dialing 911
Isaac: Are you okay?
MC: Oh yeah dw I just suffer from that syndrome where your neutral expression makes you look like you’re an angry serial killer
Isaac: say sike rn
Isaac, tutoring MC and correcting something:
MC, muttering while redoing it: The risk I took was calculated, but man am I bad at math.
Isaac: unable to help a laugh
One time MC was avoiding Isaac for fear of hurting his feelings and he just confronts her like:
Isaac: back by unpopular demand, me! What’s wrong, MC pls
MC was so hecking proud of him
Isaac, telling MC about a recent discovery he learned at uni from another professor: bones typically heal stronger after they’ve been broken--so long as they’re set properly, of course
MC, looking him dead in the eyes: So what you’re saying is that I should break every bone in my body until I become superhumanly powerful?
Isaac: please do not, no
Mozart and Jeanne are just. Totally lost. Why are you talking like that??? Why are you making “crab hands”???? They don’t understand. Maybe never will. They reach a point where they just kind of laugh and shake their heads, endeared by the oddity after they’re used to it and have determined it isn’t a threat/insult.
MC: It’s a cold and it’s a brooooken, Waluigi. Waaaaluigiiiii...waaaahluigi.....
Mozart: surprised, then starts snickering and playing along on the piano
Arthur, asking MC very personal questions out loud because he is an idiot sometimes: Soooo MC, are you a top or a bottom?
MC: I’m a threat. (If he asks a second time, the response will be “Wouldn’t you like to know, weatherboy.”)
Jeanne, fighting a smile:
MC, about to punch an asshole: Your free trial of being alive has ended
Jeanne, seconds from laughing for the first time in 100 years:
Also, because I genuinely can’t help myself. You know that knight meme like “Parry this you fucking casual.” I cannot stress enough that it is literally the personification of Jeanne’s entire character. I’m not even joking.
Arthur and Shakespeare are utterly fascinated by the rapid evolution of wordplay and the sheer hilarity. They will ask all about these so-called “memes” and ask for examples of them if MC can show them (either somehow accessing her phone or drawing them). MC draws Arthur the knife cat meme and he about a s c e n d s at the hilarity of it all, points and yells THEO IS HOLDING THE KNIFE. He is correct. They will be delighted and follow along eagerly, and--god forbid--will make their own based on late 19th century struggles.
Is this where Shakespeare got the idea for “What, you egg? stabs him” and “You are a saucy boy.”? I’m too scared to ask. Don’t even get me started on “The Fool jingled miserably across the floor.” That one is just too on the nose...
I can’t even imagine what would happen to Shakespeare if MC like translated vines and memes into Ye Olde English around him. Imagine she’s at one of those noble balls and hears rumors of these two guys living together and they’re so obviously gay and he says “And those gents w’re roommates.” And in the most false surprised tone ever MC just replies “oh mine own god, those gents w’re roommates.” Imagine having a wife that’s just as hilarious as you are and hits you with all the force of a bag of wet mice every time you speak in retaliation, he’s going into palpitations.
Every time Arthur does smth stupid MC just: “I Pretend I Do Not See It.”
Vincent is tickled pink by MC’s penchant for finding joy and/or amusement in nearly everything they do, and he smiles gently when he sees them muttering and laughing to themselves. He wants to be able to join them in what they love, but he has a harder time following along and understanding the darker humor sometimes. Mostly gets confused??? Please give him the easier ones to mimic and laugh when he tries--or just include him in your jokes MC. He’s babie your honor...
But he also. Will not. Stand any kind of self-deprecation or borderline verbal self-harm. He’s usually very easygoing and calm, but for whatever reason that stuff makes him go deathly quiet and upset.
MC, after something goes horribly wrong, hugging Vincent: Oh Vince, we really in it now
Vincent: giggling a little despite his worries, relaxing
MC: Theo stop simping for Vincent that’s my job
MC, when Theo leaves the room and she gets Vincent all to herself: The evil is defeated.
MC: And this is where I would put my will to live...if I h a d one!
Vincent: ;-;
MC: oh shit, oh fuck, I was only kidding Vincent wait
(MC was subsequently lectured and loved on for many hours)
Theo is conflicted because on the one hand, he loves to see you smiling and having fun. On the other, you’re clowning as hard as Dazai and Arthur and he can only handle so many monkeys in his circus. Most of the time he will roll his eyes and be the straight man of this comedy, but you might find him cracking a smile--or accidentally letting a chuckle slip past his lips now and again.
MC, after meeting Theo: I’m a nice person, but I’m about to start throwing rocks at people.
Theo, those first days: Oh? You’re approaching me? Instead of running away, you’re coming right to me?
MC: I can’t beat the shit out of you without getting closer.
Theo: Every time I ask MC to explain “vibe check” to me she hits me with some kind of improvised weapon
MC, after the “incident” (you know the one): This year, I lost my dear lover Theo
Theo, in the distance: QUIT TELLING EVERYONE I’M DEAD!
MC: ;-; sometimes I can still hear his voice...
Sebastian is last because oh boy. OH BOYYYYY I LOVE HIM. Okay so the way I see this happening with Sebastian is just. So wild. Because at first he’s t r y i n g so hard to be the proper butler man. He does not meme. But then he starts to drift closer to what Niles from The Nanny was, where he’ll quip and joke in private or when the situation is just beyond the amount of absurdity he can handle without making a snarky comment. Everyone in the house can’t fathom how Sebas and MC got so close so fast, but there are points where they’re just “Are they even speaking English anymore???” It’s 11 times funnier than normal because Sebas almost never smiles or laughs when memeing, the deadpan quality of his playing along sends MC every time
Has ABSOLUTELY said “HEY. PANINI HEAD. ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME???” jokingly when MC made a mistake in the kitchen. They laugh about it for y e a r s
MC: I can’t date someone who keeps a lamb as a pet, that’s so weird
Sebas, brushing Lotte in front of MC:
MC:
MC: Okay, I will make an exception because she looks very polite
MC and Sebas, fully aware of the fame some of the men will reach in modern times: We will watch your career with great interest.
(I s2g that’s like half of Sebas’ rt right there I’m crying)
Sebas rt with Lotte be like that 500 dollar Mareep meme: “sometimes a family can be just a boy, his gf, and their 500 dollar two foot tall Lotte”
#ikevamp#ikemen vampire#ikevamp meme#ikevamp headcanons#ikevamp hcs#ikevamp napoleon#ikevamp mozart#ikevamp leo#ikevamp leonardo#ikevamp arthur#ikevamp vincent#ikevamp isaac#ikevamp theo#ikevamp jean#ikevamp jeanne#ikevamp dazai#ikevamp shakespeare#ikevamp comte#ikevamp saint germain#ikevamp sebastian#can you tell I had way too much fun with this aksjhfkhsj#i am a degenerate memer I saw this ask and straight up went It's My T i m e.#though i hope this was a fun response for you love! i did my very best <333#tyty for the ask~#rambles#not incorrect quotes#mild profanity
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Goodbye in C Minor
Luke Patterson was dating this incredible girl, Y/N, until he died along with Alex and Reggie. Now that he’s been stuck in the present day, he doesn’t know how to move on from the girl he left behind in the 90s.
masterlist
A girl leans against an open doorway. She takes in the band playing around her, the black and white Sunset Curve banners streaked with color. Her eyes flash over all members of the band in turn, but they tend to linger on the lead singer, a boy with a shock of brown hair and enough passion for an entire band of his own.
In fact, he doesn’t even notice that the girl has arrived until the song ends and he looks up, finally snapped out of his reverie. Instantly, a smile shoots across his face and he jogs over to her, unslinging his guitar strap from around his shoulders and setting the instrument down on a nearby stand. He picks her up and twirls her around in the air. The girl laughs, and her eyes meet his again once her feet touch back down on the ground.
One of the boys from the band shouts something to her from across the studio, his voice hopeful. “Did you bring us lunch?” The girl turns to face them, attention finally diverted from her boyfriend. She holds up a plastic bag full of boxed containers. “I did! Takeout, hope you don’t mind. And yes, Bobby, some are vegetarian.” A light-haired boy, Alex, does a silent fist pump. “You’re the best, Y/N. Honestly.”
Y/N hands the bag of food over to the hungry bandmates, and all except one hurriedly dig in. Luke stays, interlacing his fingers with Y/N’s. “You didn’t have to do that, you know.” Y/N waves his concern away. “I absolutely did. You’ve gotten me into the Orpheum for your upcoming show, the least I can do is make sure you’re all properly fed. If I can’t help with music, I can at least help with this.”
Luke grins. “Trust me, I think the food is the best thing ever. By the way, Reggie wants me to tell you that we’ll invite you to every show on the planet if it means he keeps getting free lunch. Although technically you don’t have to worry about that- I want you by my side every step of the way, lunch or no lunch.” Y/N laughs. “That’s one of the most romantic things I’ve heard all week. Maybe you should put that into a new song. ‘I’ll love you even if you don’t bring me takeout.’”
Luke pouts, and Y/N giggles at his mock sadness. “I’m kidding. Mostly.” Luke leans forward to kiss Y/N. “You had better be.” From across the room, Alex yells something at them. “If you guys keep making out in the middle of practice we’re going to ban you from the studio.” Y/N waves her hand at him. “I brought you food, you can’t ban me! I’m too important to the future of the band.” Reggie shrugs. “She’s right, you know. We might starve.” Alex swats him on the shoulder, and Y/N turns back to Luke with a slight smile.
“I can’t believe you’re playing at the Orpheum in a week. That’s so exciting!” Luke nods fervently. “Sometimes it doesn’t even feel real. Like I’ll wake up and find out we were actually booked to some other place, not the actual Orpheum.” Y/N smiles at him. “You’re going to do great, and that’s final. I can’t wait to see you guys perform.” Luke absentmindedly runs his fingers over Y/N’s knuckles, tapping out the beats of half-written songs. “I know we’ll do great. I’ve got my muse. All of my songs are about you, you know that.” Y/N raises an eyebrow. “Even ‘My Name is Luke?’” Luke groans. “Okay, maybe not that one. Almost all of my songs are about you. How about that?” Y/N beams at her boyfriend. “That sounds perfect.”
Luke jolts back to reality. He’s still standing in that same studio, but he’s back to the present day. He’s not in the 90s anymore, and it’s been decades since he was writing songs with Sunset Curve, preparing to take on the Orpheum for the first time. He’s standing in the exact same place as that one memory, when he’d been talking to her. They’d both been so happy, so exhilarated at the prospect of Sunset Curve’s Orpheum performance. Neither of them had known that Luke, Alex, and Reggie would die that night, permanently taking Luke away from everything he knew best. Away from her.
There’s a slight motion next to him, and Luke freezes before remembering that he’s not alone in the studio. Alex has just walked up beside him, although his friend’s gaze softens when he sees the troubled look on Luke’s face. “You’re thinking about her, aren’t you? You’re thinking about Y/N.” Luke sighs. “Yeah. I just- I can’t believe that all this time had passed. She isn’t here with us, and she didn’t eat those street dogs, so she must not have died. That means she grew up and she’s probably older now. I don’t know what to think about that.”
Alex nods slowly, placing his hand on Luke’s shoulder in a show of comfort. “We left so much behind that it’s hard to think about. If you ever want anyone to talk to, you know we’re all here. Julie too, although that might be more of a difficult conversation.” Luke blows out a slow breath. “That’s the problem. Things are going so well with Julie and the new band and everything that I feel like I should be happier, and I am, and then-” His voice trails off. Alex finishes the sentence for him. “And then you remember what life used to be like.”
Luke walks over to a photo tacked onto the wall. Julie had found some old snapshots of Sunset Curve and set them out in the studio. They were nice to see, but sometimes they tended to hurt instead of inspiring fond memories. One in particular catches his eye- the band and a couple of friends, mere hours before the Sunset Curve show at the Orpheum. It’s a faded Polaroid, showing a group of beaming teenagers pointing up at the Orpheum’s sign glowing in neon lights above them. Look what we’re about to do, they seem to say, look what we never got to finish.
Luke’s eye strays on the far right corner. He’s standing there, arm wrapped around a girl. Y/N. They’re both smiling, although in this shot neither of them are looking at the camera. Instead, they’re both turned towards each other, as if delighted by the simple fact that both of them are together. Luke remembers the details of that night in perfect clarity. They’d all arrived at the Orpheum and taken the photo, and then the boys had headed back to begin their sound checks. Y/N had watched them perform, making friends with a girl who worked at the venue. Rose, who Luke now knows is Julie’s mother.
Y/N always had this easy way of making friends. One smile, a few words, and it was like she’d known a stranger all their life. She and Rose had both cheered when Sunset Curve had finished their warmups, and then looked down at her watch in surprise. She’d said something about how she had to run and do some final checks with the venue staff, and she’d be right back. Y/N had kissed Luke quickly before dashing out the door with a promise that she’d be back in a second. Luke, Alex, and Reggie had disappeared down the block to get some street dogs. By the time Y/N had gotten back, papers and signatures held triumphantly in her hand, it was too late.
Luke doesn’t know what happened after that. He’s not positive that Y/N was there when he died, maybe arriving a few minutes after the fact. He’s not sure if that makes it better or not- although she’d be furious with herself for not being there to save him, Luke knows there was nothing she could have done. Would it have hurt more to be next to him, unable to do anything but watch as he breathed his last, or to have missed the entire thing? He supposes Y/N has had years to think the issue over.
Luke turns away from the photograph. His legs are itching to take him away, his heart racing to find something to do. The band doesn’t have practice today, so there’s nothing to distract him from the awful loneliness beating against his chest. He has to do something to get away from all of this, from the memories and the photographs and the knowledge that he had left the girl he loved behind and there was nothing to do to get her back. Luke mumbles something to Alex about how he’s going to take a walk, then poofs out of the studio, no clear destination in mind.
Luke reappears in the middle of a path. At first, he’s not quite sure where he is. There’s a line of pavement under his feet, leading away in front of him. Spring green boughs wave overhead, framing the way before him. The trees eventually clear out to form a clearing, and only then does Luke realize where he is. It’s the local cemetery, the place where all of Luke’s family have been buried. The place where surely he, too, lies at rest. His head must have some twisted sense of humor to bring him here.
Luke wavers one last moment, then decides to take off down the path. He’s never actually visited his own grave, as it seemed too morbid an activity to actually set out and do, but if he’s already here he might as well see it. There’s some sort of curiosity affixed to seeing your own headstone, weird as that may be, and at least now he can glance at it once and forget about it.
Luke passes between the long lines of gravestones, reading through the names. It’s late afternoon, and there’s almost nobody here at all. At least, there isn’t anybody here except one woman, who’s crouching before a headstone in the middle of the cemetery. On second thought, she appears to be around the place where Luke’s family is buried. As he walks over, he realizes that this woman is actually next to his grave.
She’s speaking quietly. “Nothing much happened today, but it’s a Saturday, so I had to drop by anyway.” Her head drops. “You’ve been gone for 25 years. Can you believe that? 25. I miss you still.” A bittersweet smile cracks her lips, and Luke’s heart twists at the pain in her voice. “I have children now. They’re just beginning to enter double digits. At some point, they’ll be older than you. I wish you could have met them, Luke. I think you’d like them a lot.”
Luke’s head flies up when she says his name. The way she said it sounded so familiar, like he’s heard this woman before. Like he knows her, and knows her very well. The woman freezes slightly- she must have seen his small motion out of the corner of her eye. But that doesn’t make sense, because lifers aren’t supposed to see ghosts like Luke. Yet the woman still stands, lightly brushing dirt off of her legs. “Sorry, I’ll get out of your way. Didn’t see you there.”
The woman turns to face Luke, and her eyes widen. She stands for a moment, staring, and then her voice comes again, faltering and weak. “Luke?” She looks away from him, studying her own hands as if expecting them to be ghostly and translucent. “But you’re dead. How can you be here- Am I dead?” Luke shakes his head. “No, you’re not dead. I mean, I am, but I’m a, uh, ghost. You’re not a ghost. At least I don’t think so.” Luke’s voice trails off when the woman looks at him again. When she’s finally turned towards him, her face seems so familiar. It takes him a moment, and then he realizes who she is. “Y/N.”
It has to be her. There’s no way around it. Indeed, the second her name passes through his lips he knows it’s true. The Y/N standing before him is far older now, maybe in her late thirties or early forties. That would make sense, wouldn’t it? They were teenagers when he died, and if it’s been 25 years since then, she would have to be older. A slight lump forms in Luke’s throat. What would it have been like if he hadn’t died? Would he have been like this too? Would they have grown old together?
Y/N rubs a hand over her face as if in shock. “This makes no sense. I mean, you sound just like yourself and everything but-” Luke laughs quietly. “But ghosts aren’t real.” Y/N gestures loosely with her hand. “Exactly.” Her eyes flicker over him again, taking in every detail of his face as if committing it to memory. This small action itself is so strange to see- Luke remembers Y/N doing this at shows and practices, and it doesn’t feel right to see this similarity in a version of Y/N that is so much older, especially when Luke himself is still a teenager.
Luke’s voice is quiet. “Do you always visit my grave?” Y/N nods. “Every other Saturday. I think your mom and dad come all the time too. I try to give them some space.” She looks back at him, as if she can understand what he’s thinking. “We haven’t moved on so easily. There was a time right after you died when I thought we never would. I didn’t see how the earth could keep turning without my boys. And then the years kept passing by, and although the pain never got any easier we learned how to be happy too, how to keep the grief but remember you with brighter memories instead.”
She smiles, although her eyes are tinged with pain. “I’m married now.” She holds up her hand, and Luke’s gaze is drawn to the ring on her finger. “I think you’d like him a lot. We have two children, a boy and a girl. They know your parents well, we get together all the time. They supported me when I was in over my head, they pulled me out of a well when I was drowning in grief. I check in on them, and they check in on me. We were trying to do right by you.”
Luke feels like his legs are about to collapse underneath him. To see Y/N like this, so much older and calmer, feels like an earthquake tearing him apart. He doesn’t know why, but some part of him had almost assumed that she wouldn’t grow old either, that if he looked hard enough he could find her and they could be the same again. He knows now that he was wrong, although the sight of Y/N is still so reflexively exhilarating that he doesn’t know what to do with himself.
Luke forces himself to speak. “Are you- are you happy? Now, with your family?” Y/N nods, a radiant smile breaking out across her face. “I’m incredibly happy. Things are good now, and they’re going to keep being good for a very long time.” She looks at him, seeing the questions he’s too afraid to ask. “I’m sorry that things happened the way they did. I would have liked nothing more than to see you shine on that stage and have your star career the way that we always planned. I have a feeling that you’ve got a new chance now, a way to move on. I’d take it. You’ve always been able to stay on your feet and keep running forward. Don’t let that go.”
Luke nods. “Thank you, Y/N.” They exchange their goodbyes and then Luke disappears back into the trees. After a moment or two of walking, he poofs back into the studio. Luke walks on leaden limbs towards his songwriting notebook, flinging it open and reaching for a pencil. He turns to one page in particular, a song he’d begun writing for Y/N a few days before their performance at the Orpheum. He changes some lines, adds new chords, transposes the song from a major to a minor key. He doesn’t know how long he sits there, but when he looks up at last, the song is finished.
The title sits at the top, a blurry gray after recent erasings. ‘Goodbye in C Minor.’ The beautiful start to a love he never got to see through.
#luke patterson#luke patterson imagine#luke patterson x reader#luke patterson imagines#jatp#jatp imagine#jatp x reader#jatp imagines#jatp oneshot#luke patterson oneshot#jatp luke#jatp luke imagine#jatp luke x reader#jatp luke imagines#jatp luke oneshot
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Surprises (one shot)
Harry Potter AU
Request: Hey I was wondering if you could do a one shot with regulus black and the reader gets pregnant and it’s just like really fluffy
Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader
Rating: T
_________
Positive
You stared at the fourth muggle pregnancy with wide eyes. There was no way denying what this meant. Apparently, Regulus and yourself weren't as careful as the two of you believed. You sat stunned looking at the small pile of positive tests in front of you.
Oh boy, we’ve done it now.
You thought as there was a knock on the other side of the door. Sirius’ voice came from the other side.
“Hey, it's me...again. You’ve been in there a really long time, Y/n. You haven’t fallen in have you?”
Your eyes rolled to the door.
“No, I’m fine. Go away.”
Sirius groaned.
“But I need to go.”
“Go find a bush!”
You snapped. Sirius whined before going back to the kitchen where Remus sat reading the morning newspaper.
“She’s still in there and told me to go away. Can you believe that?”
Remus didn’t look up at his own lover before smirking.
“You have been pestering her every five minutes since she went in there. Sorry, but you get what you get.”
Sirius grumbled about no one liking him at 9 am in the morning as he walked to the refrigerator to look for a snack.
“I hope my brother gets home soon. Y/n is nice to him. He gets that sassy side under control. Maybe he can get her to come out of the bathroom.”
“Why is she in the bathroom?”
Sirius spun around as Regulus put his coat down. Regulus had been out on a job for the past week and a half.
“I don’t know but I need to go and she won’t get out of there. Go fix your girlfriend. She’s been mean to me and I have been nothing but delightful.”
Regulus rolled his eyes. He knew all about Sirius’ version of “delightful.” That means “I’m going to drive you nuts until you want to murder me.” If Sirius annoyed you, the most patient and kind person that Regulus knew, then he had done something stupid to deserve it.
“I’m sure that you have.”
Regulus replied before going upstairs. He gently knocked on the door.
“Get lost, Sirius!”
You immediately snapped. Regulus grinned. You were about to change your tune really quick when he spoke.
“Not Sirius but if you want me to leave again…”
You were silent for a moment before Regulus heard a bunch of things being moved around in the bathroom before the door opened.
“Reggie!”
You squealed his name before making a mad dash for him. Regulus wrapped his arms around you and pressed a kiss to your forehead. You looked exhausted and definitely a bit out of character. For it being almost noon, you were still in your pajamas.
“Are you okay, love? You look a bit peaky.”
Regulus commented as he took your face in his hands to try to figure out if you were getting ill. You seemed fine the previous evening when he spoke to you.
You sighed, knowing that you needed to tell him. Regulus was going to figure it out sooner or later anyway. There was only so long that you could hide this particular secret.
“I need to talk to you...alone.”
You wrapped your hand around Regulus’ wrist and tugged him into your bedroom as Sirius made a wide-open path to the bathroom.
“Thank Merlin!”
Regulus rolled his eyes at his older brother before closing the bedroom door behind him. He internally thought about how difficult it was living with Sirius again and wondered how he handled growing up with the other man.
Turning his attention back to you, Regulus titled his head as you started pacing the room.
“So are you going to tell me what is wrong or do I need to start guessing?”
You stopped pacing and thought about how to break the “happy news” to your very unsuspecting boyfriend. The two of you hadn’t discussed having a child in the slightest. Was Regulus going to be angry? What if he decided that he didn’t want anything to do with having a child?
Come on, Y/n. That isn’t the type of man that Regulus is.
You chided yourself before taking a breath and placing all four tests in Regulus’ hand. He looked a bit confused as he gazed at the sticks. You automatically shook your head realizing that he had no idea what the hell you had given him.
“Positive? What’s positive?”
Regulus questioned as his dark eyes rolled up to you for an answer. You couldn’t help but wonder if your baby-to-be would have his father’s eyes? A better question was how were you so 100% the baby was a boy?
“Y/n?”
Regulus’ soft voice pulled you from your now pleasant thoughts. You were surprised that you were so suddenly thrilled with the idea of what was happening to you.
“Those are muggle pregnancy tests.”
Regulus blinked a few times as he looked back down.
“Oh...OH! Oh?”
You couldn’t help but smile as his mouth dropped.
“Yes.”
You had hoped that you would be able to say more but you suddenly couldn’t speak as Regulus started looking at the multiple tests again.
“We’re having a baby?”
Regulus questioned softy. He knew this was getting a bit redundant but he wanted to make sure that he was hearing everything correctly.
“Yes...are you upset? I know that it isn’t a good time with this war and all...I suppose the pills that I was taking just didn’t do their job…”
Regulus tossed the tests on the dresser before pulling you back against him. He snuggled his face against yours breathing in the scent of your perfume. This was the last thing that Regulus was expecting.
In all actuality, Regulus never considered the thought of having a child. He never thought that he would be “good enough.” Clearly, his own father was no pristine example of what a father should be. Orion Black left everything to Walburga. If Sirius or Regulus made the slightest peep of noise when Orion was home, they were getting screamed at or hit over the head with a hex. There was no bonding whatsoever.
His idea of being a father was showing Regulus and Sirius off at family or business functions. He didn’t think that it was important to turn up to any of his son’s events or their births, for the record. If he even knew what his son’s names were or anything about them then it would be a shock for everyone.
Maybe, deep down, Regulus had a fear of being like his father if he had children of his own. What if he didn’t know what to do with the kid or found the child annoying? It wasn’t like he could just “send the kid back.”
My baby will be different...this baby will be half Y/n. Everything about her is wonderful so this baby must be wonderful too...I’m not my father. I’m not my father.
Regulus thought before finally being able to speak. He stood up enough to smile down at you.
“I’m happy! Beyond words, happy! It doesn’t matter if it's a bad time...it's a good time. You know that I’ll take care of both of you.”
You smiled. Normally you would have made some sassy comment that you were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. You would just need his help when it came to caring for the child. Today, however, Regulus’ soft comment of promising to take care of you struck a new place that even you were surprised that you had.
“I like the sound of that.”
Regulus tucked your head under his chin and enjoyed the quiet closeness of the moment. You wrapped your arms around his back, tightening your grasp on his body. For the first time that day, you were finally starting to feel better. After being queasy the past few days, you were relieved to not want to throw your guts up for once.
It was all nerves. You were only afraid to see how Regulus would react. Now everything will be fine.
You thought as Regulus gently tugged you toward the bed. He barely laid down before nestling back against you. Regulus gently stroked a hand over your stomach.
“So is the baby like the size of a bean or something?”
You shrugged.
“I’m not sure. I suppose we will find out when I have an appointment with a healer.”
“How are you feeling? I noticed that you were pale when you stepped out of the bathroom.”
You laid your head on his shoulder wanting to preserve the closeness. Suddenly you were very sleepy for the first time in a few days.
“Just a little queasy.”
Regulus wrapped an arm around you feeling more peaceful than he had in a long time. Even if the situation at hand was going to be a rough one, he knew that it would be okay since it was with you.
“I guess my pullout game isn’t as good as I thought.”
You rolled your eyes before snuggling closer.
“I guess not.”
_____
@amelie-black @truly-insatiable @fandomsxxregulus @realgaytrash @spiderxalmighty @lucasfilms77 @whymyparentscheckmyphone @teletubiswszpilkach @hazncalsgal @quuenofblacks @acciosiriusblack @fific7 @bennyberry @jessyballet @knreidy1 @rubyroscoe1 @criminalyetminimal @exhsle @brokencasbutt67-writer @authoressskr @fandom-trash-worth-it @hankypranky @summer-novak @shaylybaby2032 @emiwrites3reads @li0nh34rt @tas898 @marichromatic @untoldshortsofthefandoms @sprnaturallover @stuckinsaudi1 @shitfaceddaniel @shitfaceddaniel @shadows-and-padlocked-hearts @knight-of-gleefulness @deanwherescas @wontlookaway
#Regulus Black#Regulus Black x Reader#Sirius Black#Remus Lupin#request fic#Regulus Black request fic#timothee chalamet as regulus black#ben barnes as sirius black#andrew garfield as remus lupin#regulus x reader#reader x regulus#harry potter au#annon request#regulus arcturus black#sirius orion black#the ancient and noble house of black#Surprises#one shot#update
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