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hotwings0203 · 3 years

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Gilded Cage

A/N: It’s embarrassing how long this took but oh well, happy new year to everyone and I hope you enjoy scummy yandere hawks!

Warnings: dubcon, kidnapping, abuse, toxic relationships, degradation, yandere themes

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At first she welcomed the bright flashing lights like a breath of fresh air, but in due time it made her throat close up like the rest of the situation.

He had agreed to let her out if she behaved, and that meant no biting, scratching, screaming, flinching, temper tantrums, and worst of all, no silent treatment.

And she would take it like a champ if it meant seeing any other person in 6 months.

He had kept her here like a flightless bird in this cage of theirs, and oh how ironic it was that she was succumbed to be the prey of this ruthless hawk, with him able to soar amongst the people and buildings while Y/n stayed perched in the house, her ever-growing wings mentally becoming too much for her to control and stay silent about.

She needed space, she wanted to leave, but she didn’t dare voicing any of her wants, especially when Keigo made it so clear how her meager wants were of no match for his needs.

And his needs, as he’s made so clear thus far, include her being a pliant, quiet, yet loving little birdie who cooks, cleans, and lays with him day and night without complaint.

God forbid she speaks up about her...living conditions, as he liked to so generously supply to her the first and last time she ever had this conversation with him. She tried telling him how she originally had loved their relationship of a couple of months, and sure it might have been weird for him to push her into moving in with him only after 3 months, but it was because of how much he loved her or so he said at least, when he bashed her head repeatedly on the ground when she told him it “wasn’t normal to rush into things so fast”.

Sure, he had a big spacious penthouse lent to him by the Hero Commission so being physically cramped was never a problem, and yes okay he showered her with gifts and little trinkets, just like birds did with their mates even more so after a big fight that usually left her black and blue, with swollen lips, ripped up knees and big red welts on her wrists while the hero himself was left with not even a feather out of place.

But there were days where their movie nights and cuddling sessions didn’t cut it for her anymore. There were nights when she couldn’t take his suffocating arms around her a second longer, only to be replaced by an even heavier and darker presence when she tried turning on her side away from him.

Sometimes it would be a chain reaction caused by the smallest of catalysts, however. It would be on a day where he left the restraints on a little too tightly, and Y/n was forced to use toothpaste on her wrists instead of the salve Keigo always kept in the medicine closet. Other times it would happen when he would keep feeling up her sides and pressing into her after a long day of her cooking in hopes that the plentiful food would be enough to keep him occupied away from her, even if it was for an hour or two.

It never was, though. He always wanted her, whether it was her scent, her presence, or her clothes that he kept in his pockets on his missions.

On those days, the days where she felt too much Keigo, too many feathers and too much Hawks was when she snapped.

Down would go the plates, the expensive wine glasses, the vases filled with flowers sent by hundreds of fangirls who knew nothing about the monster that he actually was. She’d tear out her mussed hair, red-faced with tears that ruined her makeup the makeup that she liked to wear on these types of days just to piss him off, knowing that he thought “excess makeup is for whores and catfishes. I already know you’re a whore, well, my whore, but you’re not even good enough at applying makeup to be deemed a catfish so don’t even try it hummingbird” while screaming in his face to let go, for the love of god Hawks PLEASE let me go I want to go home I don’t want this anymore I don’t want YOU anymore this isn’t working out I don’t love you-

And crack would be the sound of his palm across her face, knocking her to the floor. On these types of days he wouldn’t even think she deserved a change in facial expression, staring down at her pathetic trembling body while his lips were set in a subtle casual smile, his hands stuffed in his pockets as if he never raised an arm a second ago, and his eyes remained golden and neutral, the only indication of him processing her tantrum was the black glint in his pupils that dilated every time she gasped and sobbed on the floor.

To ensure that his precious, oh-so fragile lovebird wouldn’t hurt herself any further with her stupidity, he’d crouch down inches away from her face and cock his head slightly as a real bird would do. He’d reach out and lift her chin to face him while his other hand would snake up her thigh to try and console her which only succeeded in making her shake and breath unevenly.

Leaning forward to ghost his lips over the shell of her ear, he’d relish in the way her mouth would part in terror as he would lovingly whisper every threat of what he’d do to her the next time she wanted to be like a brat, because god help her if she thought he couldn’t tame a brat after dealing with a lifetime of villains.

It was almost laughable, how easy she was to silence. He didn’t even need to use feathers to pull her to her feet when he would tell her to go to the bed and get on all fours like the bitch she was.

She had to earn her way back into being his good, obedient little dove, on days like these.

But after these days would pass and she would indeed realign with his expectations, he would reward her greatly.

Never like this, though.

Y/n is brought to the present again as another flash of light from the paparazzi snaps her out of her daze. As the spots begin to fade from her vision, she sees Keigo in front of her adorning his trademark “for the fans-only” grin, although Y/n would call it a sleazy smile, the same smile he would give her before he signaled his feathers to cut deep into her feet so she’d stop kicking at him as he dragged her on the floor and feels him squeeze her hand a little too tightly to be dubbed as endearing.

“Stop zoning out on me, you look like a ditz”, he hisses through his teeth, his grin now resembling more of a bared-teeth look.

She tries to try to fix her face and pull the corners of her mouth up, attempting to also brighten her eyes and looking interested at the blond interviewer who was now conversing with Hawks about his recent team-up with Endeavor. It takes every ounce of self-restraint to not shove past the phony smiles and flashy attire enveloping her and waltz down the red carpet to the doors of the gala. She thinks if she hears him utter another word about how he’s so incredibly blessed to have the love and support of my fans, family, and most importantly, my girlfriend who has stuck by my side through thick and thin, she’ll puke on the bedazzled yellow dress the interviewer has on.

As if. He’d probably whisk her off to the nearest bathroom and pummel her on the floor right then and there just for being distracted, but not before fucking her as well.

She feels Hawks nudge her side, and on cue she darts her head up and really plasters on a blinding smile as she focuses on the question that was just asked to her.

“Sorry, what was that? I think I got distracted by your outfit, you look lovely tonight, an absolute catch.” She winks for good measure, just to salvage the damage of ignoring the conversation and Keigo’s tight-lipped smile, which was beginning to soften.

Bingo.

“Oh you’re so sweet! I can see why Mr. Number Two here swooped in to take such a cutie like yourself.” The interviewer giggled, twirling a golden lock around her finger. “But no worries, I was just saying you should come make a public appearance more often! I mean, the media barely gets to see you with Hawks intimately, it would be a great excuse to get all glammed-up as well...I mean, if Hawks here hasn’t got his talons sunk too deep into you.” She laughs shrilly and doesn’t notice how both Y/n and Keigo tense up at her insinuation.

Yeah lady, you’re not too far from the truth. The last time I tried to look nice and go outside, I was bedridden for a week and a half while nursing frozen peas over 7 different parts of my body, inside and out.

But if Keigo can bullshit more than he can tell the truth, then so could she.

She laughs warmly and places her hand on his shoulder lightly, just to sell the “supportive girlfriend” look.

“Well, I really would love to come out and show my support for him more often, but we’ve both agreed that with all the publicity anyways, it’s just too much pressure for me to deal with. I’d rather just stick with what I know and keep it hush between him and I.” She turns her gaze to Keigo now, superficially giving him a puppy-in-love look but discreetly seeking his approval if what she said was the correct thing or not.

He merely gave her an amused smile, as if to say damn, wasn’t expecting that answer but I guess it’s fine. Yeah. Two can play at that game.

Pleased with her answer, the blond bimbo turns on her heel and sashays away, leaving the couple by themselves.

Keigo gives Y/n a side eye and cautiously holds out his elbow for her to take. A peace offering for the meantime, just to reward her for the quick save.

Don’t fuck this up for me, or you’ll regret it tenfold when we get back home.

“Shall we?” He waits for her to oblige, and of course she does.

Arm-in arm, they gracefully walk down the red carpet towards the gold plated doors. Upon entering, Y/n’s breath is taken away at the grand hall, with red banners hanging from the balconies that had navy blue and gold words of praise for the heroes engraved in the silk. Hundreds of pro heroes filled the room, much more than what she was used to from only interacting with her captor for months.

Guiding her over to the long granite bar, Keigo squeezes her arm before lightly dropping it. Before she can move, he stands directly in front of her and his vermillion wings unfurl and slightly surround the two of them, creating their own little space. To others, it might’ve just looked like two lovers embracing each other and having their own little moment. Y/N knew better, however, and suspected he had ulterior motives.

She was right.

“I’m gonna leave you here for a few minutes, ‘kay? I don’t want you moving from here,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, and she had to suppress a shudder at his unwanted proximity. “The feather stays on, and I better not see or hear anything funny while I’m away.”

She nodded and touched her necklace that was indeed laced with one of his feathers, remembering the deal he made when he agreed to let you out for the day.

Ah yes, the dreaded feather.

When she had approached him on shaking legs two days prior, Hawks was brushing his hair in the bathroom, keen on meticulously keeping it styled and ruffed up in the morning. It was one of the things that Y/N would begrudgingly say was one of his finest features, along with his natural eyeliner-shaped markings and rugged yet handsome facial features.

On good days, she liked to lightly trace her fingers and across his sharp jawline and feel the stubble growing on his blushed face. She’d try to stop immediately however, when he’d open his eyes and catch her hand, moving it across his body much to her chagrin and down to his-

She had stood outside the door, fumbling with the hem of her thin nightie and desperately trying to pull the short material past her bare thighs as she mustered up the courage to bring up her proposition.

Keigo slowly ceased his brushing when he saw the meek little thing quivering outside his door, and he quirked up an amused eyebrow. He braced both arms on either side of the sink, and let out a light exhale, before addressing her.

“Something wrong hummingbird?”

She dragged her eyes from the floor up to his dilated golden irises, and blurted out what she had been rehearsing in her head for the past couple of days:

“DoyouthinkIcouldcomewithyoutothegala?”

“Huh?” he snickered, thoroughly bewildered by what incomprehensible nonsense she had stuttered out.

Y/N bit her lip and took in a shaky breath, strike one, she fumbled her first try.

“Haw- uh, Keigo,” she corrected quickly. He preferred her using his first name, his real name. He claimed it made things more intimate between them as if carving his name on her back hadn't been enough to seal their “intimacy’-she didn’t need to be told twice what to call him by after that day “I was wondering...if I’m good and I don’t give you a hard time, can I come with you to the hero's gala?”

Keigo’s brow furrowed slightly, and he cocked his head to the side like a real bird. He seemed to be contemplating it.

“Alright,” he conceded after a couple seconds. “If, and I mean if you listen to me and don’t try any funny business while we’re there I’ll let you tag along.”

Y/N darted her eyes up to him, hope swimming in her heart.

“But you have to wear the feather.”

She immediately blanched.

A major inconvenience that she had come to terms with in the duration of her stay with him had been his stupid fucking feathers that layed oh-so-casually around the floor where she walked and coincidentally clinging to her clothes wherever she went out of Keigo’s eyesight, even though she was trapped on the same floor with him.

They had special properties; they could detect any movement, sense any vibration whenever he called for it. This made for a perfect tracker for Y/N in terms of whenever he wanted an update on her heartbeat, her mood, her whereabouts, and anything in between.

Yes, it was suffocating. But she would much rather it only be a suffocating feeling rather than him actually directing hundreds of feathers to surround her and hold her down on the bed or floor to do whatever he wanted with her in any position he pleased.

She didn’t dare complain to his face, however. She’d grit her teeth, grin and bear it, listen to every whim he demanded of her if it meant one night of superficial normalcy.

And so she put on her best behavior on the days leading up to the main event. She made dozens of dishes that circulated around chicken (his favorite binge food), she let them have “cuddle time”, with no complaints whatsoever when he insisted on bathing her and dressing her up in stupid pink frilly skirts, and she even gave him little subtle looks with a batting of her eyelashes when he looked down fondly at her good mannerisms and praised her for being such a sweet little birdie.

Eventually, her acting paid off and on the morning of the gala she was merited with a silk red dress that stopped at her upper thigh, ornamented with gold earrings and a 12K necklace to really sell off the look-which was of course wrapped around one of his feathers. Hawks had even hired a makeup artist who was instructed to not ask or say anything to Y/N save for questions about the products, much to her pleasant surprise.

She was still reminded of how much she had to grovel for him every time he rewarded her that afternoon.

“You look stunning, chickadee,” Keigo leaned against the dresser with his arms crossed, and smiled warmly at Y/N. “You’re making her look like a real model, maybe she should take over my job instead. Or, actually, maybe you could stop by my agency and make me all pretty for my next photoshoot.” He directed this last tease at the makeup artist and winked, causing the oblivious employee to giggle and blush.

Ugh, barf. He’s even a sleaze when I’m right here.

Y/N feigned a roll of her eyes, which didn’t go unnoticed by the hero. She could feel his dilated eyes boring into her the rest of the 15 minutes of touch-ups. Eventually everything was done, and Hawks left praise after shameless praise fall from his lips and onto the poor fangirl’s heart as he guided her out the door, a hand on her lower back as he did so.

She took the opportunity to get up and walk to the full-length mirror, admiring how she looked for the first time in ages. Gone were the multi-colored marks that decorated her body as if she were nothing more than a mere canvas for her painter to use. Her eyes seemed a little brighter too, and it wasn’t just the makeup that caused it. She stood a little straighter and squared her shoulders, her chin tilted up more than before while she stared at her reflection. She didn’t recognize the woman in the mirror, and she liked it for once.

It was ridiculous, she knew it was to feel so vain but she couldn’t help but bask in her potential freedom for just one night. She looked gorgeous, she felt confident, and she had earned it all on her own.

Cocking her head to the side, she tried to practice a couple smiles to be camera-ready for when the time came. She turned the corners of her lips up, then showed her teeth, and even tried fluffing her hair up sensually. Biting her lip slightly, she threw her head back, causing her curled locks to bounce and lowered her eyelids to look sexy. She giggled at her own stupidity and poses, completely unaware that a certain winged-man had entered the room and leaned against the door for the past couple of minutes, simply watching the little show she put on.

“That's quite a look you’ve got there hun, why don’t you make those faces more often with me?”

She immediately froze, her breath hitching. She didn’t dare look at him in the eye from the mirror.

“I mean, I’m the only one who should be seeing such a slutty expression anyways, right?” He said ever-so casually, hands in his pockets as he slowly strolled up behind her, and she couldn’t help but think as her eyes darted up to meet him in the mirror that the sadistic shit-eating grin on his face didn’t suit so well with his god-like features.

She visibly wilted, her shoulders hunched and head down in contrast to the tall, powerful woman she had felt like mere seconds ago. Her breath quickened as he leaned over her shoulder, grazing his teeth over the sensitive part under her ear, and she bit her lip harshly to stop the squeak that threatened to escape her trembling lips.

“If I had known that a pretty dress and some makeup would make you act like a wanton little whore, I would’ve done this wayyy sooner. I guess you really are just another dumb bimbo bitch who does anything she’s told if she gets to feel important for a night.” He whispered in her ear, resting his head on her shoulder and looking up at her with innocent eyes, ones that imitated the mocking tone of voice he used.

It seemed like he wanted her to feel disgusting, to wilt under his cruel words that he used like knives-knives that were sharpened with his tone and body language, knives that were so intimately and carefully chosen. They worded so that they were used to their full extent to cut and carve through her heart.

“Is that what you are my little songbird, hmm? You wanna be a pretty baby and have everyone’s attention on you? I’m hurt, here I was thinking I was enough for you.” He pouted, and with every word he spoke the grip his hands had around her waist tightened.

She tried to protest but he plowed through her pitiful attempts.

“Hell, if you want some attention so bad and whore yourself out, I should call over some friends! Yeah, we can skip tonight’s gala, would you like that songbird? For me to share you with my friends so they can satiate your whorish needs?” And at his he shook her lightly, his grip around her middle choking her and cutting off her circulation. “N-no, Hawks,” she wheezed out. “I just... liked my makeup, that’s it. I only want you, I promise. I won’t cause any trouble tonight, please don’t call any friends over.”

She looked up at him in the mirror with eyes the size of saucers, blinking away tears and trying her best to show how apologetic she was at her audacity to feel good about herself.

He loosened his arms and straightened up, peering down at her disgustedly. He had absolutely no regrets about the way she sucked in air immediately when he relented, or about the way she frantically brushed the tears from her eyes, trying to preserve her mascara from running. (not that he would’ve minded). She needed to learn her lesson; he controlled her highs and lows. Only he had the permission of holding her fragile emotions in the palm of his hand, and if she didn't want that palm turning into a fist and breaking her, she would do well not to piss him off and treading carefully about flaunting what was meant for his eyes only.

She wanted to lock herself in the bathroom and cry out to her heart's content from being embarrassed and degraded like this. She kept absolutely still however, when she felt his hands lightly tracing the feather on her collarbones. It was an unspoken threat, and when their eyes met once again in the mirror, the way he sized her up confirmed it.

The feather stayed on.

Which brought her back to the present.

Y/N had already downed 3 glasses of champagne while reminiscing about earlier today, something Hawks would’ve surely tutted at. Finding herself bored, she meandered around the bar, keeping close to where he left her.

She scanned the room for her ‘lover’ and found him laughing with a group of his friends, his head thrown back and the charming sound of his deep yet lilted voice carrying through the hall, entrapping anyone who was around.

He certainly had presence, no sense in denying it.

Any girl would’ve been crazy to deny him, and Y/N wished that Hawks had fallen for a girl that didn’t want to deny him out of his hundreds of fangirls a point that was set in stone in Y/N’s mind when she saw a tall brunette clinging to his arm while she shrieked with laughter at whatever stupid story Hawks was telling.

Said fangirl seemed to also have been put under his contagious spell, from the way she so obviously threw herself on his arm and pushed her chest against his side under the pretense of shaking with laughter. Various other parts of her body seemed to be shaking against him too, but he didn’t seem to mind based on the smirk he quickly looked down at her with.

For the second time that night, Y/N wanted to throw up.

Was it jealousy? Negative. Rather, it was frustration that he literally had girls throwing themselves at him, tits hanging out and all but yet he wanted what he knew he couldn’t have. She assumed that it was this mentality of his that landed him at being Number 2, chasing after the seemingly impossible until it was tangible.

It was easier on some days to try to understand his point of view. It was much better than getting lost in the hours pondering what kind of bad karma she inherited from a past life to go through this hell. But on some mornings when she felt stone-cold sober, she remembered that she was a person, not some objective or conquest that he had rightfully won. Deciding to try and take her mind off from the trainwreck that was unfolding in front of her, Y/N aimlessly wandered to the side of the bar and down a grand hallway that was less crowded and had less Hawks.

On either side of the hall, giant bronze frames held the portraits of past heroes and had little scriptures of their accomplishments. Hawks had always talked about how he wanted his name up there, and how one day he was going to do something incredible to have his own face up on the hall of fame. His idol, Endeavor, already has taken place on the wall right next to All Might’s frame, and Y/N looks up and ponders at both of their pictures.

And how befitting is it, that Hawk’s idol is also accused of a sinister and tumultuous family past.

Maybe he doesn’t need to work too hard to follow in the footsteps of the number one hero.

“Quite the hero, Endeavor is. Even though there is controversy about the nature of his past and his redemption efforts, he set many precedents as to how a true hero should act.” Y/N’s head snaps to the right where Edgeshot had just joined her. He wore a navy blue tux with red seams, his trademark mask covering the lower half of his face.

“Yeah, you’d think his admirers would try to follow in the footsteps of changing themselves too,” she muttered bitterly. “I’ve noticed his biggest fans seem to take after his more...old brutish traits rather than the better person he’s trying to be now.”

The masked hero laughed softly, and Y/N looked at him suspiciously.

“What, you don’t think heroes have their own fair share of flaws?” She challenged.

“No no, don’t get me wrong of course. I would be on an inappropriate level of naivety to assume that, considering I’m a part of the whole corrupt system itself. I think, however, that change within a person comes after an extended time of self-reflection. You have to look within yourself and accept that you were wrong in the first place, if you want to change.”

Y/N was quiet for a moment.

“Do you think the villains are ever right? About society brushing the flipside of heroism under the carpet, I mean. It doesn’t matter if the heroes are trying to save people because it's expected of them, if they aren’t actually compassionate about their cause then is there really a point?” She asked desperately, hoping he could understand her.

Edgeshot hesitated for a moment before answering.

“In my years of experience,” he said quietly, still looking up at Endeavor’s painting, “the ones who have at heart a solid reason for acting the way they do are most always justified. It may not always be a good reason, but a foundation always gives way to a justification that can be argued for.”

All of a sudden, Y/N gasped as white hot pain sliced through her sternum. She looked down and saw the red feather on her necklace quivering as a fine line of red sprouted from the cut it made.

“Are you alright?” Edgeshot asked, looking fairly alarmed, his hand reaching for her shoulder.

“Yes, of course! My necklace is just a little sharp, a little edge just nicked me that's all.” She said shrilly, already backing away from the concerned hero. Turning on her heel, she picked up the hem of her dress and tottered out of the hall, not paying any mind to the vermillion plumage that drifted down her chest, past her waist and eventually clinging onto her leg, making little nips and stabs here and there.

Blood was pounding through her head as she navigated the way back to where Hawks had left her to be. Her palms were sweaty and she was sure her hair was becoming messy as she whipped her head around, attempting to look past tall heads and bodies that blocked her way to the bar.

Shitshitshitshit god please don’t let him be there already please please please-

But it seemed as though god wasn’t in a merciful mood, because lo and behold, the raptor was leaning against the long granite island with a glass in his hand.

He seemed to be casually grinning, swirling a maroon substance in his cup and choking it down leisurely, but as Y/N drew closer she knew-as expected- he seemed off.

The smell of alcohol was nauseating around him, he must have been drinking something strong. His wings, although lightly flapping behind him, were pointed at the edges and shaking lightly. His eyes were completely dilated, and were shifting around the room until they settled on her meek figure rushing up to him.

“Hey there birdy, long time no see. Did you have a good chat with Edgeshot? I’m sure you both enjoyed talking shit about me behind my back.” Y/N winced at how charismatic and booming his laugh was after his ominous remark. It was too carefree, a complete cover-up of how she knew he was actually feeling, and that scared her the most.

“Hawks I-”

“Keigo, sweetheart, did you forget my name already after talking with just one person? Damn, I’m hurt, guess keeping you locked up at home was the right decision after all if you’re acting like such a stone-cold bitch now.”

She stared up at him, openmouthed and thoroughly panicked now. He was talking too much, he was going to expose himself and her-

Wait. Why is she covering for him? Wouldn’t it be better if he blabbed everything else so people could realize what he’s doing? Maybe someone would intervene and save her!

But it seemed like he was three steps ahead of her and had already figured that out, because his face flushed slightly and his eyes darkened and narrowed, with lips set in a flat line. When Y/N saw this change, she tried to back away but he quickly grabbed her hand and yanked her out the room and through the exit doors. It was all happening so fast, she could hear various people call out to Hawks but he plowed through them so fast that she didn’t have time to even process that they were out of the building and in the air.

She screamed as he soared to an even higher altitude, clinging onto his neck for dear life. The wind whipped past her face, stinging her cheeks with the frigid cold and water particles that embedded on her lashes. Hawks was laughing hysterically the entire time he gained height, his talons ripping through her dress and piercing her skin, even overlapping the previous cuts his feather had made earlier.

“S-stop, what’re you doing, are you fucking crazy?” She shrieked, her words losing volume as the air was ripped out of her lungs.

“KEIGO, its KEIGO you stupid fucking cunt!” he screamed in her face. His arms loosened around her waist, and suddenly Y/N was falling, falling, falling straight for the asphalt.

She couldn’t even turn her head as her limp body plummeted down for imminent death. Her lungs begged for oxygen, fear settling like lead in her stomach, but the second she closed her eyes for what she thought was the last time, (Hawks) Keigo swooped down and yanked her back into his sinister embrace by her hair.

Ignoring the ripping strands she felt in her skull, she flailed around in midair trying to grab onto something-she reached up to grab his foot but he noticed and kicked her square in the face. Y/N had never before felt such terror and pain, mentally or physically.

Damn her pride, she wants to live for god's sake.

“Keigo,” she sobbed, remembering just in time to use his real name lest he smash her teeth in again, “please put me down, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I talked to Edgeshot but I swear it wasn’t anything bad or about you.” The warm blood streaming down her nose began to harden on her upper lip from the chilly altitude they had reached.

Abruptly, he shifted his grip and pulled her up by her hair (she winced at that painful adjustment) so that he could hold her around her waist now.

They had to have been at least 200 or so feet in the air. The pair had cleared their way through some clouds and could clearly see the full moon right in front of them. It was deathly quiet except for Y/N’s labored breathing through her fractured nose, and her fear racked even further as she looked up at Hawks and realized that he was simply staring down at her with completely dilated eyes that narrowed and gleamed at her expression. He truly looked like a bird of prey right now, a predator that was forcing her to play the part of his prey, a point that solidified when he suddenly wrapped one hand around her throat to feel her heartbeat that thumped like a rabbits’.

The light from the moon reflected off his back, causing his front to be completely shadowed so that the contours of his sharp face seemed ever more looming and dangerous. Both of them stayed suspended in the air for a minute or two like that, Y/N not daring to speak unless he granted her a sign to repent.

After a long, painstakingly suspenseful minute of studying her face, he finally growled “We’re going home.”

It seemed to take only a mere couple of minutes for the Number Two hero to travel halfway across the city. Y/N barely had time to try and drink in the beautiful colors that accented the winding streets and buildings below her, knowing that it would most probably be a long time before she saw anything else that resembled freedom again.

He finally began to descend rapidly, forcing her to cling onto his jacket and shove her face into the crook of his neck to avoid getting whiplash. Peeking through her lashes, she recognized the balcony floor of his penthouse rushing underneath their feet. Dread and anxiety surged through her veins as he finally landed and postiviley threw her off of him and onto the wooden floor. She slid a good couple of feet and skinned her legs in the process, unable to stop her momentum as she slammed back into a lamp.

Dazed, she saw stars as she rubbed her aching head. Unfortunately she didn’t see him, rushing over to her the second she landed.

He grabbed her jaw tight and wrenched her bleary eyes to look up at him.

What he saw was beautiful.

A trembling mess beneath him, makeup runny and complemented with blood that flowed from her nose like an eternal stream. He couldn’t keep his eyes off the way she kept flinching any time he shifted; it made his pants tighten and caused his teeth to grit in what he measured to be the absolute last bits of self restraint he had for the night. He had truly ruined her, and he internally patted himself on the back at his work.

Was he mad? Yes, wholly and completely at her betrayal of his orders.

Did he regret losing his temper? Absolutely not. In fact, if you ask him, he should get mad at her more often like this. If it merited her pliant and vulnerable being, then who was he to deny such pleasure? Fuck he should’ve done this from the start- blowing up at mild disobediance instead of acting like a doting, patient boyfriend.

“You alive?” he roughly shook her head and her teeth chattered inside her skull while he did so.

“Yes,” she whispered, mouth popped open by his gloved fingers as he shoved a digit inside her warm and wet cavern. It was embarrassing how drool seeped through her lips and dribbled down her chin, but humility was the least concerning factor in her environment at the moment.

“Good. After acting like such a tramp you better fucking be. I told you one thing,” and he slapped her for added emphasis to his frustration, “can you repeat what I told you? Or are you so braindead that you can’t remember the one order I gave you when I trusted you to sit still and look pretty like a good little bitch?”

“Nnngh, no I rem-I remember.” Y/N panted out, attempting to talk through puckered lips and drool. “You told me to stay at the bar and not to move.”

“Exactly. So what part of that was so hard to understand, huh?” He hissed through his teeth, looking deranged.

“I just got bored, that’s all. I wanted to talk to another person…” Even though she didn’t finish her sentence, Hawks understood her perfectly.

I wanted to talk to another person apart from you.

He let out a mocking laugh, stretching his arms over his head to hide his shaking fists. Rage swept through his body like wildfire, licking up his throat and cheeks. His face was flushed and unreadable to Y/N as he sauntered around the couch and plopped down on it, spreading his legs to seem as uncouth as possible.

She sat shivering on the floor, unsure of if he wanted her to follow him or wither away on the floor like a mutt.

As he sighed loudly however, her body immediately tensed as though bracing for another painful impact. She daringly peeked over her shoulder and saw the back of his head protruding from the black and red leather couch. Lazily flicking his wrist up to a height where she could see, he vaguely beckoned her over without saying a word.

Immediately she scampered over to him and situated herself at his feet (where she belonged). Her eyes were downcast, and he begrudgingly accepted it as a form of submission on her part. No sense in beating the disobedience out of her now if she already knows what she did wrong.

Hawks heaved out another heavy sigh and let his head fall backwards. On one hand, he was slightly drunk and his head was killing him-he just wanted to go to sleep and forget today ever happened. However, there was a problem that was contributing to his growing migraine, and that problem was sitting right in front of him, practically kneeling at his feet for mercy. More than sleep, he wanted to take care of said issue and call it a night, so he decided to skip the sweet talk and warm up.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen, kid. I’m gonna close my eyes and by the time I open them you better have already thought of a way to make tonight up to me, and you better have already put that plan in action. Then, we’re going to bed and when you wake up you’ll regret the day you even thought of talking to anyone apart from me, since you seem to have forgotten who’s been coddling your ass all this time.” He sneered, relishing at the way Y/N’s face went pale.

True to his word, he closed his eyes, glad to see his last view as the pathetic bitch who was about to service him. The feel of slight fumbling on his zipper made him feel even more drunk and giddy as it was pulled down. Maybe the entire evening wasn’t a complete wash after all.

Yeah, he should take her out a lot more.

#yandere hawks #yandere x y/n #bnha yandere #mha x reader #bnha #hawks x reader #hawks smut #hawks x y/n #bnha hawks #mha hawks #kidnapping #tw dubcon #mha #yandere #yandere hawks x reader

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improvidence318 · 4 years

Text

i said screw it so here it is

howdy howdy, this is the anon with the 20’s lingo sheet. i don’t have a tumblr (though i wish i do tbh) and realized that i don’t know how to work shit on tumblr, so i’m just sending in the sheet through a text post. i am highly aware of the amount of power i’m bestowing upon you and honestly couldn’t give a damn

ab-so-lute-ly: affirmative all wet: incorrect And how!: I strongly agree! ankle: to walk, i.e.. “Let’s ankle!” apple sauce: flattery, nonsense, i.e.. “Aw, applesauce!” Attaboy!: well done!; also, Attagirl!

baby: sweetheart. Also denotes something of high value or respect. baby grand: heavily built man baby vamp: an attractive or popular female, student. balled up: confused, messed up. baloney: Nonsense! Bank’s closed.: no kissing or making out ie. “Sorry, mac, bank’s closed.” bearcat: a hot-blooded or fiery girl beat it: scram, get lost. beat one’s gums: idle chatter bee’s knee’s: terrific; a fad expression. Dozens of “animal anatomy” variations existed: elephant’s eyebrows, gnat’s whistle, eel’s hips, etc. beef: a complaint or to complain. beeswax: business, i.e. “None of your beeswax.” Student. bell bottom: a sailor bent: drunk berries: (1) perfect (2) money big cheese: important person big six: a strong man; from auto advertising, for the new and powerful six cylinder engines. bimbo: a tough guy bird: general term for a man or woman, sometimes meaning “odd,” i.e. “What a funny old bird.” blotto (1930 at the latest): drunk, especially to an extreme bootleg: illeagal liquor breezer (1925): a convertable car bug-eyed Betty (1927): an unattractive girl, student. bull: (1) a policeman or law-enforcement official, including FBI. (2) nonesense (3) to chat idly, to exaggerate bump off: to kill bum’s rush, the: ejection by force from an establishment bunny (1925): a term of endearment applied to the lost, confused, etc. Often coupled with “poor little.” bus: any old or worn out car.

cake-eater: a lady’s man caper: a criminal act or robbery. cat’s meow: great, also “cat’s pajamas” and “cat’s whiskers” cash: a kiss Cash or check?: Do we kiss now or later? cast a kitten: to have a fit. Used in both humorous and serious situations. i.e. “Stop tickling me or I’ll cast a kitten!” Also, “have kittens.” cheaters: eye glasses check: Kiss me later. chewing gum: double-speak, or ambiguous talk. choice bit of calico: attractive female, student. chopper: a Thompson Sub-Machine Gun, due to the damage its heavy .45 caliber rounds did to the human body. chunk of lead: an unnattractive female, student. clam: a dollar coffin varnish: bootleg liquor, often poisonous. copacetic: excellent crasher: a person who attends a party uninvited crush: infatuation cuddler: one who likes to make out

daddy: a young woman’s boyfriend or lover, especially if he’s rich. daddy-o: a term of address dame: a female. Did not gain widespread use until the 1930’s. dapper: a Flapper’s dad darb: a great person or thing. “That movie was darb.” dead soldier: an empty beer bottle. deb: a debutant. dewdropper: a young man who sleeps all day and doesn’t have a job. dogs: feet doll: an attractive woman. dolled up: dressed up don’t know from nothing: doesn’t have any information don’t take any wooden nickels: don’t do anything stupid. doublecross: to cheat, stab in the back. dough: money drugstore cowboy: A well-dressed man who loiters in public areas trying to pick up women. dry up: shut up, get lost ducky: very good dumb Dora: an absolute idiot, a dumbbell, especially a woman; flapper.

earful: enough egg: a person who lives the big life

face stretcher: an old woman trying to look young fella: fellow. As common in its day as “man,” “dude,” or “guy” is today. “That John sure is a swell fella.” fire extinguisher: a chaperone fish: (1) a college freshman (2) a first timer in prison flat tire: a bore flivver: a Model T; after 1928, also could mean any broken down car. floorflusher: an insatiable dancer flour lover: a girl with too much face powder fly boy: a glamorous term for an aviator For crying out loud!: same usage as today four-flusher: a person who feigns wealth while mooching off others.

gams (1930): legs gatecrasher: see “crasher” get-up (1930): an outfit. get a wiggle on: get a move on, get going get in a lather: get worked up, angry giggle water: booze gimp: cripple; one who walks with a limp. Gangster Dion O’Bannion was called Gimpy due to his noticeable limp. gin mill: a seller of hard liquor; a cheap speakeasy glad rags: “going out on the town” clothes go chase yourself: get lost, scram. gold-digger (1925): a woman who pursues men for their money. goods, the: (1) the right material, or a person who has it (2) the facts, the truth, i.e. “Make sure the cops don’t get the goods on you.” goof: (1) a stupid or bumbling person, (2) a boyfriend, flapper. goofy: in love grummy: depressed grungy: envious

handcuff: engagement ring hard-boiled: tough, as in, a tough guy, ie: “he sure is hard-boiled!” hayburner: (1) a gas guzzling car (2) a horse one loses money on heavy sugar (1929): a lot of money heebie-jeebies (1926): “the shakes,” named after a hit song. heeler: a poor dancer high hat: a snob. hip to the jive: cool, trendy hit on all sixes: to perform 100 per cent; as “hitting on all six cylinders”; perhaps a more common variation in these days of four cylinder engines was “hit on all fours”. See “big six”. hood (late 20s): hoodlum hooey: nonsense. Very popular from 1925 to 1930, used somewhat thereafter. hop: a teen party or dance Hot dawg!: Great!; also: “Hot socks!" Rarely spelled as shown outside of flapper circles until popularized by 1940s comic strips. hot sketch: a card or cut-up

"I have to go see a man about a dog.”: “I’ve got to leave now,” often meaning to go buy whiskey. icy mitt: rejection insured: engaged iron (1925): a motorcycle, among motorcycle enthusiasts iron one’s shoelaces: to go to the restroom ish kabibble (1925): a retort meaning “I should care." Was the name of a musician in the Kay Kayser Orchestra of the 1930s.

jack: money Jake: great, ie. "Everything’s Jake.” Jalopy: a dumpy old car Jane: any female java: coffee jeepers creepers: a term of exclamation jitney: a car employed as a private bus. Fare was usually five-cents; also called a “nickel.” joe: coffee Joe Brooks: a perfectly dressed person; student. john: a toilet joint: establishment juice joint: a speakeasy

kale: money keen: appealing killjoy: a solemn person knock up: to make pregnant know one’s onions: to know one’s business or what one is talking about

lay off: cut the crap left holding the bag: (1) to be cheated out of one’s fair share (2) to be blamed for something let George do it: a work evading phrase level with me: be honest limey: a British soldier or citizen, from World War I line: a false story, as in “to feed one a line.” live wire: a lively person lollapalooza (1930): a humdinger lollygagger: (1) a young man who enjoys making out (2) an idle person

manacle: wedding ring mazuma: money milquetoast (1924): a very timid person; from the comic book character Casper mind your potatoes: mind your own business. mooch: to leave moonshine: homemade whiskey mop: a handkerchief munitions: face powder

neck: to kiss passionately necker: a girl who wraps her arms around her boyfriend’s neck. nifty: great, excellent noodle juice: tea Not so good!: I personally disapprove. “Now you’re on the trolley!”: Now you’ve got it, now you’re right.

off one’s nuts: crazy Oh yeah!: I doubt it! old boy: a male term of address, used in conversation with other males. Denoted acceptance in a social environment. Also “old man” “old fruit.” “How’s everything old boy?” Oliver Twist: a skilled dancer on a toot: a drinking binge on the lam: fleeing from police on the level: legitimate, honest on the up and up: on the level orchid: an expensive item ossified: drunk owl: a person who’s out late

palooka: (1) a below-average or average boxer (2) a social outsider, from the comic strip character Joe Palooka, who came from humble ethnic roots panic: to produce a big reaction from one’s audience percolate: (1) to boil over (2) As of 1925, to run smoothly; “perk” pet: necking, only more; making out petting pantry: movie theater piffle: baloney piker: (1) a cheapskate (2) a coward pill: (1) a teacher (2) an unlikable person pinch: to arrest. Pinched: to be arrested. pinko: liberal pipe down: stop talking prom-trotter: a student who attends all school social functions pos-i-lute-ly: affirmative, also “pos-i-tive-ly” punch the bag: small talk putting on the ritz: after the Ritz Hotel in Paris (and its namesake Caesar Ritz); doing something in high style. Also “ritzy.”

rag-a-muffin: a dirty or disheveled individual rain pitchforks: a downpour razz: to make fun of Real McCoy: a genuine item regular: normal, typical, average; “Regular fella.” Reuben: an unsophisticated country bumpkin. Also “rube” Rhatz!: How disappointing! rub: a student dance party rubes: money or dollars rummy: a drunken bum

sap: a fool, an idiot. Very common term in the 20s. says you: a reaction of disbelief scratch: money screaming meemies: the shakes screw: get lost, get out, etc. Occasionally, in pre 1930 talkies (such as The Broadway Melody) screw is used to tell a character to leave. One film features the line “Go on, go on – screw!" screwy: crazy; "You’re screwy!” sheba: one’s girlfriend sheik: one’s boyfriend simolean: a dollar sinker: a doughnut sitting pretty: in a prime position skirt: an attractive female smarty: a cute flapper smudger: a close dancer sockdollager: an action having a great impact so’s your old man: a reply of irritation speakeasy: a bar selling illeagal liquor spill: to talk spoon: to neck, or at least talk of love static: (1) empty talk (2) conflicting opinion stilts: legs struggle: modern dance stuck on: in love, student. sugar daddy: older boyfriend who showers girlfriend with gifts swanky: (1) good (2) elegant swell: (1) good (2) a high class person

take someone for a ride: to take someone to a deserted location and murder them. tasty: appealing teenager: not a common term until 1930; before then, the term was “young adults.” tell it to Sweeney: tell it to someone who’ll believe it. tight: attractive Tin Pan Alley: the music industry in New York, located between 48th and 52nd Streets tomato: a “ripe” female torpedo: a hired thug or hitman

unreal: special upchuck: to vomit upstage: snobby

vamp: (1) a seducer of men, an aggressive flirt (2) to seduce voot: money

water-proof: a face that doesn’t require make-up wet blanket: see Killjoy wife: dorm roomate, student. What’s eating you?: What’s wrong? whoopee: wild fun Woof! Woof!: ridicule

You slay me!: That’s funny!

zozzled: drunk

have fun.

#it's the 20s slang list #thanks dude #submission

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bee-kathony · 4 years

Photo

Blue Christmas | Jamie & Claire one shot

a/n: Merry Christmas! I wrote this a few weeks ago, so I thought I’d finally post it. Comes in at a whopping 13,154 words so you’ll need to brew a cup of hot chocolate and settle in for this one! Now... this will probably be my last fic for awhile, possibly ever, we’ll see how I feel after everything has settled. I hope you enjoy and Merry Christmas! xx and thank you @julesbeauchamp for the moodboard!

December 23rd, 2019

Oxford, England

The wine glass in her hand was becoming dangerously low. Dangerous, because without the warm liquid filling Claire’s belly, she’d remember just exactly why she was drinking alone.

Christmas was a time of celebration and joy. A time for families to come together, laugh and exchange presents. Everyone would gather around the fireplace and tell stories or watch a classic Christmas film.

Claire was celebrating in her own way two days before Christmas. Her divorce had been finalized this morning, which was a good thing, but not exactly something that would lift the spirits.

Her ex-husband, Frank Randall had been a kind man, emphasis on had. They’d been married a short five years, and during that time, Frank hadn’t been faithful — at all. When Claire found out about one woman, it led to another and another… and another. Frank seemed to have a string of women lined up all around the city. It made Claire feel like a fool for trusting him and believing that he truly loved her.

So, with her divorce final, Claire was celebrating Christmas alone for the first time in her life. The first several years of her life she barely remembered, and until she had married Frank, she had spent every Christmas with her aunt and uncle in London.

Uncle Lamb insisted she come and join them this year, but the thought of having to pretend she was okay was mind-numbing. Being around her family would be nice, but seeing all the cheer and jovial faces wasn’t something she could handle.

A quiet meow came from her left, and Claire looked over to see her cat Adso licking his feet. Well, she wasn’t quite alone, at least she had her cat.

“I’m becoming a crazy cat lady at the ripe age of twenty-seven,” Claire said wistfully, petting Adso on the head, making him purr gently. “Just you and me now.”

There wasn’t even a Christmas movie that Claire could watch because they usually all ended with two people falling in love, and love was not something Claire wanted to think about. It killed her to know that Frank was probably screwing some blonde university bimbo right now, while she sat alone in the dark, not a decoration in sight.

Thankfully, she had the next two weeks off to wallow in self-pity. Claire worked at the local library, where she was able to read to her heart’s content. Her best friend Geillis also worked with her, although she didn’t read all that much, which always made Claire laugh. Why take a position at a library if one didn’t like to read?

Gathering enough energy to get off the sofa, Claire set her now empty glass down in search of a new bottle. If she had to spend this Christmas alone, she certainly wouldn’t be spending it sober.

As Claire grabbed a new bottle, she passed by the fridge, which was still littered with the odd bits and pictures of her and Frank’s life. A yellow post-it note caught her attention. It read, “I’ll be out late, eat without me!”

She yanked it off, crumpling it into a small paper ball before tossing it in the trash can. “You bastard,” she said to the post-it and to Frank.

Sooner or later, she would need to get rid of all his things. The process had begun two months ago when she’d found out about his affairs. Claire had gathered up as many clothes of his that she could carry in her two arms and tossed them out the second-story window, much to Frank’s complaints.

Laughing at this memory, Claire grabbed a packet of biscuits before plopping back down on the sofa.

“Another glass for the woman who’s destined to be alone,” Claire said to herself, watching the dark liquid fill her cup.

Just as she picked it up, a loud knock came from the door, making her spill it all over her pajama pants. “Shit!” Claire stood up quickly, checking to see if any had got on her couch, and thankfully (or not so thankfully) it had all landed on her.

Another knock came from the door, “Open up!”

“Geillis?” Claire raced to the door, patting at her pants. “What on earth are you doing here?”

Her friend held up a bottle of wine and a box of pizza. “Solidarity? I wasn’t going to let you spend tonight alone. I canna be wi’ ye on Christmas, so I thought tonight would suffice.”

“Get in here,” Claire grinned, hugging her friend as she passed. “I should make you buy me a new pair of pajama bottoms! Spilled half my glass of wine all over them when you knocked.”

Geillis looked her over, wincing as she saw the dark red stain. “Och, Christ, Claire. I’m verra sorry about that.”

“You should be,” Claire crossed her arms as she leaned on the counter, the smell of the pizza making her mouth water. “But you brought sustenance so all is forgiven!”

“Go make yourself at home, I’ll just go change out of these,” Claire rolled her eyes, laughing as she went to her room. It should’ve been hard to be in the bedroom that Frank and she had shared, but he was barely home towards the end. The reason for that was clear now. They had moved into this house only two years ago after Frank accepted the teaching position at Oxford. Most of the memories Claire had made here, had been on her own.

Returning with a freshly washed pair of fuzzy bottoms, Claire sat down next to Geillis who was already on her second slice.

“So ye really didna decorate for Christmas, huh?”

It was true. The room was dark with the lack of twinkling lights and not a bauble in sight. “I didn’t feel like decorating just for myself. Not this year at least.”

“I get it,” Geillis nodded. “But I wish ye wouldn’t spend the whole holidays wallowing in self-pity. Ye should put on a fancy dress and go get yerself laid,” she winked. “Now, that will lift yer spirits, ye ken?”

“I ken,” Claire smirked. “But I don’t think anyone would want to get with this sorry lump of coal.”

“Excuse me?” Geillis nearly spit out her wine. “If yer a lump of coal, then what am I?!”

“Oh, you’re gold darling, absolute gold,” Claire laughed. “I appreciate the encouragement, but I’d rather not wake up in a strange bed with a strange man.”

“But that’s often the best kind,” Geillis nudged her in the side. “Well, if ye willna go get laid, please dinna stay here in this miserable depressing house. Go see yer uncle or go take a trip somewhere. Ye’ve earned it, Beauchamp.”

That hit her like a gut punch. Beauchamp. Her maiden name. “Guess I’ll have to get used to saying that again. A trip you say?” She sipped her wine. “But it’s two days before Christmas, where on earth could I go that would have availability?”

“Try Scotland, my homeland,” Geillis grinned and ran her finger gently down Adso’s back. “Tis just a quick hop on a plane, gets ye out of England at least.”

“I’ve never been to Scotland,” Claire said. “Do I just find a bed and breakfast in some quaint village?”

“Aye,” Geillis nodded and then whipped out her phone. “Or ye can search for a cute holiday spot in Scotland. Let’s say the highlands somewhere.”

As Claire let Geillis search for a place for her to go, she looked around at her house. While she could wallow, the idea of sitting in the dark wasn’t exactly appealing. She had the next two weeks off, and she might as well try and enjoy herself a bit. After all, she should be celebrating the fact that she’s no longer married to Frank who took every opportunity to cheat on her.

“How long do ye want to stay?” Geillis asked.

“Umm, I don’t know. Maybe four days? Five? I’ll have to find somewhere for Adso to stay,” Claire smiled as her cat purred beneath her hand.

“Oh, I’ll watch the wee cheetie,” Geillis mumbled. “So, in the highlands… with availability.”

“Oh and make sure it’s not some romantic getaway destination,” Claire added.

“Lassie,” Geillis laughed. “It’s Scotland. The whole damn country is a romantic destination! But dinna fash, I’ll find ye a good spot.”

“While you do that, I’m going to turn on the fireplace,” Claire said as she stood up. She flicked a switch that turned on the gas and immediate heat came to life. Claire stood in front of the fireplace, trying to get warm.

There was something rather exciting about traveling to a country she’d never been before. Claire fancied herself as a bit of a gypsy — her home was wherever she was. And Scotland was a place she’d always wanted to visit, it seemed like now was as good a time as any.

“Oh, I think I found it,” Geillis stood up from the sofa to show her the phone. “Tis called Fraser’s Ridge. A collection of cabins of all sizes up in the Highlands.”

“Fraser’s Ridge,” Claire repeated and began to flick through the pictures. The cabins looked very cozy and inviting. “They have availability?”

“That’s what their website says,” Geillis said. “Want me to book it? It’ll be my Christmas present to ye… since I may have forgotten to buy ye a gift,” she winced.

“You don’t have to do that, Geillis!”

“I do! Ye need to take time for yerself,” Geillis slid her arm around Claire’s waist, squeezing tight. “Ye’ve had a rough year, and now ye can go up to a cute wee cabin and relax.”

Claire looked through the pictures again, noting how charming they looked. “It says here that each cabin was hand-built by the owner and his father.”

“Oooh, the crafty type,” Geillis winked. “Ye should make sure ye get a good look at the owner then. If he’s good wi’ his hands…” she made a lewd hand motion.

“Geillis Duncan!” Claire laughed, nudging her friend in the ribs. “There will be nothing of the sort. I bet he’s in his 60’s, overweight and balding.”

“Are ye picky then?”

Claire shot her friend a look, then laughed and moved back to the sofa. “Fine, if you want to book it, then go for it. It’ll be better than me and Adso rotting away like Miss Havisham while I sit in my wedding dress.”

“Ye should give that away or somethin’,” Geillis said as she typed Claire’s details into her phone to book the holiday. “I mean, I ken it’s full of memories and such, but surely those have all been tainted.”

“I guess you’re right,” Claire sighed, leaning her head back on the sofa. “I could give it to charity. Or you. Would you like a used wedding dress, Geillis?”

“Not a chance,” Geillis smirked. “Okay, I’ve put yer name as Claire Beauchamp. It’s five days, and you leave tomorrow.”

“Christmas Eve,” Claire ran her hand through her curls. “Guess I’d better pack!”

“Will ye promise me ye’ll bring somethin’ sexy to wear? Just in case the owner turns out to be a mysterious highland hunk?”

“God, you’re insufferable,” Claire chuckled and tossed a pillow at her friend who narrowly dodged it. “For you, I’ll pack it, but it will get no use.”

“We’ll see,” Geillis smirked, forwarding Claire the confirmation email.

++++++

After Geillis went home that night, Claire went into her closet and packed a travel bag full of everything she thought she’d need. The owner said he would have a car come and pick her up at the airport, and then to get some groceries if she needed them. Besides that, she wouldn’t even need to leave the cabin. Cozy sweaters and loungewear were all that she intended to wear, but she did pack a sexy silky pajama set she had yet to wear just so when Geillis asked her about it later, she could say she brought it.

She felt nuts to be boarding a plane on Christmas Eve, but she wasn’t alone. The airport was packed with other holiday travelers flying all over the world. Claire loved to people watch — coming up with stories for people.

There was a little girl Claire had been watching for the last several minutes while she waited for the plane to take off. She sat two rows in front of Claire and kept popping her head over the seat to look back at her.

“Hi,” Claire waved. The little girl ducked back down with a shy smile before popping her head up again. This pattern went on several times before the girl’s mother told her to sit still.

The flight was a short one, but Claire always got motion sickness on flights or in cars and so she took a Dramamine to help ease the nausea she was already feeling. She was also slightly nervous to be going to a place she’d never been on her own. Every vacation in the past had been with Frank, so now she was venturing out, and so far things were going well.

Nearly two hours later, Claire woke up to the sound of the pilot telling them that they would be landing shortly. Her head felt foggy, and she stretched in her seat the best she could.

“Couldn’t have sprung for first-class, Geillis?” Claire chuckled to herself.

She only had a carry-on duffel and a large purse that held her laptop and a few books for the trip.

The email said that one of their employees would be picking her up and would have her name on a sign. So it wasn’t a surprise whenever she walked out of the gate to find a tall bearded man, holding a sign that read, “C. Beauchamp.”

“Hi,” Claire smiled at the man. “Are you from Fraser’s Ridge?”

“Aye,” he nodded. “I’m Murtagh FitzGibbons. I take it ye are C. Beauchamp?”

“That’s me. I don’t have to wait for a bag so I’m ready when you are,” Claire said.

The man made a Scottish sound in the back of his throat and then took her duffel. A slight panic crept in as she followed this stranger out to the car. She was a woman traveling alone on one of the busiest holidays. This would be the time that she could be taken advantage of, perhaps taken to some remote place and murdered.

“Christ, Beauchamp,” she shook that murderous thought out of her head and told herself everything would be fine.

“Do ye need to stop at the grocer’s for any food for yer stay?” Murtagh asked as he started the car.

“Um, yes please, if there’s one on the way,” she replied.

“Aye, there is. The Ridge is about an hour away from here, so best get comfortable,” Murtagh smiled at her as he turned on her seat heater. Fraser’s Ridge did have five-star reviews, and so far, she knew why.

Murtagh drove her to the grocery store where she picked up snacks and food she could easily prepare. Wine of course, and a bottle of whisky… two bottles of whisky. The rest of the drive was silent, as Claire took in the beautiful Scottish landscape. The rolling green hills, covered in snow as they drove further north.

By the time they reached Fraser’s Ridge, the sun was beginning to go down, even though it was just the afternoon. The air was crisp and cold, making Claire shiver as she stepped out of the warm embrace of the heated car.

“The owner, Jamie, my godson, is out tonight and tomorrow to be wi’ his sister and her family. But, I’ll help ye check-in and then see ye safe to yer cabin. Jamie will probably stop by to welcome ye properly when he gets back,” Murtagh said as he picked up her bag again.

“You’re his godfather?” Claire asked. “Why aren’t you spending Christmas with them, if you don’t mind me asking?”

He grunted, “Och, well, I’m no’ much of a holiday man. And someone had to see to the place over the holidays. Jamie did it last year and I kent he wanted to spend time wi’ his sister, Jenny.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Claire smiled warmly. “I look forward to meeting this Jamie whenever he comes back. This place is absolutely beautiful.”

“Aye, lass,” Murtagh smiled as he walked up a trail towards a small building that must be their offices.

“There’s a wee book that tells ye a bit about the place,” Murtagh said as he wrote her name down. “It also has information about wifi, if that’s somethin’ yer interested in.” He opened a drawer and pulled out a gold key. “Cabin 2,” he handed it to her. “If ye’ll just follow me.”

They walked back outside, and it was beginning to snow lightly. On the way up here, Claire noticed that they really were in a remote part of the highlands. Although, it seemed most of the highlands was remote compared to the busy streets of Oxford or London.

“Are there other people here? Or is it just me being a complete and utter loser on Christmas?” Claire chuckled sadly.

“There are a few other folks,” Murtagh looked back at her. “A few families that like to spend the holidays up here. We have ten cabins in total, and this season only three are vacant.”

“Wow,” Claire was impressed. It was an ideal location, but most people stay at home with their family’s at Christmas time. “Well, it’s really lovely.”

Her cabin was just a short walk from the office, with its own trail that led to the door. Claire could tell that it was built with skill and precision. Everything looked so intentional and yet still had that rustic element that all cabins had. Murtagh walked up to the door, waiting for her to unlock it.

She turned the key, opening the door to a dark room. Murtagh flicked on the switch and Claire gasped.

“Pretty, ain’t it?” Murtagh smirked and then set her bag down. “Jamie insisted on decorating every cabin for Christmas. I told him ‘twas a bit much, but,” the man shrugged.

There were lights strung around the room, making it sparkle. A large tree stood in the corner, fully decorated, with cranberry and popcorn and every bauble to go with it. The fireplace had greenery on top, fit with knitted stockings. It wasn’t cheesy or tacky. Claire wasn’t trying to escape Christmas, just her depressing home she had shared with her ex-husband. This… this was perfect.

“Well, I’ll leave ye to it,” Murtagh said. “Our office number is listed in the book as well if ye need anythin’. Enjoy your stay, Miss Beauchamp.”

“Thank you,” Claire smiled as Murtagh shut the door, leaving her on her own. The first order of business was to get the fireplace going, and upon first inspection, it wasn’t a gas one like Claire’s.

There was wood already set up, as well as kindling and a box of matches on top of the mantle. “Here goes nothing,” Claire muttered as she struck the match. At first, nothing happened, but soon the kindling caught the flame and began to fan out to the logs.

“First try,” she clapped her hands together.

There was a small kitchen connected to the living room, stocked with all the appliances one could need. The master bedroom was spacious, with a cozy king-sized bed that Claire was very much looking forward to getting into later. A bathroom connected to the bedroom, with a shower and clawfoot tub.

“The pictures don’t do this place justice,” Claire sighed as she walked back into the living room which was warming up nicely. There was a ladder that led up to a small loft area with plush seating. A cute little reading nook for later.

Claire continued her curious look around as she opened up the back door. There was a fire pit outside, with logs set up around it for seating. She managed to get the inside fire lit but wasn’t counting on her skills with an outdoor pit.

Before she settled onto the comfy looking sofa, Claire took her bag into the room and unpacked it. Then she put her groceries away, grabbing a packet of crisps and a plaid before snuggling in for the night.

The remote was on the coffee table and when she turned it on, The Holiday was playing.

“I can’t turn this off, now can I?” She rolled her eyes but smiled as Jude Law’s character put on his glasses.

After the movie ended, and Claire had eaten her weight in crisps, she groggily made her way to the bedroom. Not bothering with pajamas, she flopped down onto the bed face first and within moments fell fast asleep.

++++++

On Christmas morning, Claire treated herself to a cup of coffee and store bought croissants. There were no presents under the tree to open, and no one would call. Maybe her uncle Lamb, but later once his own children had opened their gifts.

“Another day of movies and crisps,” Claire sighed as she took up the corner spot on the sofa.

Hours passed in that order. One movie would end, and another would begin. She had given up on trying to avoid cheesy Christmas movies, as that seemed to be the only thing playing on virtually every station.

Claire felt herself drifting off to sleep during Elf, but was startled when a loud knock came from the front door. “What the bloody hell,” she yawned and jumped off the sofa. Grabbing the plaid, she wrapped it around her body as she shuffled to the door.

A very tall, very large, red headed man stood on the front porch. He had an axe in one hand, and a bag in the other.

“Um, are you going to murder me?” Claire glanced at the axe.

The man followed her gaze and burst into a laugh. “Oh, Christ! It does look like that. No, God no. I came to see if ye needed any wood cut for the place.”

“Perhaps,” Claire said, eyeing the man. She had to admit that he was very attractive, and his accent had that deep burr of someone who had lived in the highlands all his life, the r’s rolling off his tongue.

“Yer probably wonderin’ who this strange man is on yer front steps,” the man said as he took off his gloves and stuck out his hand. “I’m Jamie Fraser. Of Fraser’s Ridge.”

“Ah,” Claire smiled and shook his hand. “That makes a lot of sense,” she laughed. “I’m Claire Beauchamp. I just got in last night. Your godfather, Murtagh, was it? He said that you wouldn’t be around today.”

Jamie put his gloves back on his large hands. “Well, I wasna supposed to be, but then my sister Jenny’s daughter Maggie got sick after the festivities and so I was freed. Thought I’d just come back to check on everyone and to wish them a Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” Claire grinned. “I must say, this place is wonderful. Did you really build every one?”

“Aye,” Jamie’s cheeks blushed. “With my Da before he passed a few years back. We ran this place together. It was a way to show the beauty of Scotland, and remind everyone to take time for themselves. What brought ye here?”

“Oh,” Claire paused, not sure how much of her personal life to disclose to a near stranger. “Just needed a break from my life back in England.”

“I kent ye were a Sassenach,” Jamie smiled warmly.

“Sassenach?”

“English person,” he replied. “More or less.”

There was still snow falling, and Claire began to shiver in the doorway. “Would you like to come in Mr. Fraser? It’s bloody freezing out there!”

“Och,” he shook his head. “I’ll just go and chop the wood for ye and bring it back. I wouldna want to impose on ye.”

“It wouldn’t be an imposition,” Claire said, and realized that she really wouldn’t mind spending more time with this man. He had a kindness to him, one that instantly drew her to him.

“I willna be long,” Jamie turned to leave. “And call me Jamie please, Sassenach.”

She waited until he had fully gone to shut the door. He would be back.

Racing to her bedroom, she tossed the plaid on the bed and began to root around in the drawers for something more suitable to wear. Of bloody course she had only brought oversized sweaters and lounge wear. “Didn’t think you’d be meeting a handsome Scot, now would you? Didn’t listen to Geillis,” she mumbled.

Pulling out a green sweater, Claire thought it was the most presentable option and replaced it with the old t-shirt she had been wearing. She only felt a little foolish to be primping herself for his return. Licking her fingers, she tried to assemble the bird’s nest called her curly hair into order.

She was not certain how long it would take him to chop down fresh wood. An image of the man Jamie holding the axe in his hands, droplets of sweat on his brow as he struck down with force on the wood filled her mind. Claire let her eyes closed as she pictured how he would grunt with every strike, again and again. He was clearly well built, so his muscles would flex.

“Christ, Beauchamp,” she shook her head, looking back at herself in the mirror. “Would you get a bloody grip?!”

She knew she shouldn’t have changed her appearance for a man. There was nothing that would come of this, so why did she want to look good for him? After Frank, Claire thought it would take her a long time to be open to any kind of relationship, let alone whatever she was imagining with Fraser.

He said he was going to chop down wood for everyone that needed some, so it could take awhile. The sofa called to her, and Claire sat down, grabbing a book off the coffee table. Her ear was tuned to any slight sound outside, waiting for Jamie’s return.

It took several tries for Claire to focus on the pages before her. She must have read the same paragraph nearly ten times, as her mind was picturing running her fingers through Jamie’s red curls.

“My God woman,” Claire muttered, feeling herself growing flushed. “This is not a cheesy Christmas movie. You’re not going to get laid by the owner of the place who kindly brings you wood.”

If Geillis were here, she would tell Claire to be open and take risks. But Claire had exchanged a few words with the man, and while she assumed he didn’t have a wife or family of his own, there was no way of knowing he wasn’t promised to some other woman.

Soon, Claire’s attention was hooked by her book, and as the minutes turned into hours, she had nearly forgotten about Jamie coming back. One look out the window showed her that it was still snowing, nearly a blizzard too. It was also growing dark outside, and she knew enough to know that chopping wood in the dark was a recipe for disaster.

Her curiosity sparked, Claire rose from the sofa and went to find her boots. Her gut told her that she should at least check that he was okay, if she could even find him out there. Once her shoes were tied, Claire grabbed her coat off the hook near the door. The fresh cold air hit her face, making her gasp as it took her breath away.

The steps were icy as she descended slowly. Obviously, she should look in the woods behind the cabin first. What would she do if she couldn’t find him? Go to the offices, demanding to know where he was? She would look insane and probably desperate. However, he did say he would come back and it’d been nearly four hours.

As she turned the corner round the back of the house, a flash of red caught her eye and she made her way carefully over.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!”

She wouldn’t have to venture out into the icy woods after all. Jamie was lying in the snow, clearly stuck and unconscious. His axe lay nearby as did a pile of wood. He didn’t have any signs of bleeding, so he must have slipped on the ice and passed out.

Claire bent next to his body, her fingers instantly checking for his pulse at his neck. His skin was chilled, but she felt a steady thrum under her fingers, echoing her own. Jamie’s lips were a light shade of blue — he must have been out for hours. And all this time, she sat warm and inside, none the wiser.

“Jamie,” she rubbed her hand over his cheek. He didn’t stir. There was snow covering his body and she began to wipe it off. If he didn’t wake, she wasn’t sure she could lift him into the cabin to warm him up. “Jamie, please wake up!”

Rubbing her hands together for warmth, she then placed them on his cheeks to warm them up. She had no idea what else to do save strip naked and put her body next to his. Things hadn’t gotten to that point she thought sadly.

“Jamie,” she said again loudly. “Mr. Fraser, you’ve got to wake up.”

Finally, she saw a twitch near his lip, and soon his eyes slowly opened, snowflakes falling down his cheeks. “Sassenach?” He said with a dry voice.

“Oh thank God,” Claire sighed, leaning her head briefly on his chest. “You must have slipped on ice and passed out. I think you’ve been out here for hours, and the snow has really picked up.”

“Have I?” He blinked rapidly. “Aye, I can barely feel my fingers so I must have.”

“Do you think you can stand?” Claire asked, “I might be able to help get you inside.”

“Let me try,” his mouth quirked up into a smile. It seems even freezing temperatures couldn’t dampen his spirit. Jamie sat up stiffly, flexing his gloved fingers out in front of him. Rising to her feet, Claire offered him both her hands to pull him up. It took all the strength she had to lift him up. And when she did, he nearly toppled them both over again.

“Okay, let’s try walking,” Claire wrapped one arm around his waist to steady him. They took slow steps and thankfully they were very close to the cabin. The steps took a little bit longer, but with the promise of warmth inside, Jamie managed to make it.

“Och, Christ, I’m freezin’,” Jamie shivered as Claire shut the door behind them.

“Come and sit by the fire,” Claire led him over. “I’ll get you a blanket.”

She walked quickly to her bedroom to grab the plaid she’d tossed there earlier. When she came back to the living room, Jamie was standing in nothing but his trousers. His chest was gleaming, with a tuft of auburn curls, and Claire froze in her tracks as she stared at him.

“Um,” she said, her eyes greedily taking him in.

“I need to get out of these cold wet clothes,” Jamie blushed, bringing color back to his cheeks. “I’m sorry to appear so indecent before ye, but…”

She waved him away and moved closer, holding out the blanket. “No, it’s fine. You’re right, anyways. You can’t be sitting in those clothes.”

Jamie held the blanket in his hands gingerly, staring back at her. “Would ye perhaps look away for a bit just so I can get my trousers off? I swear I willna flash ye or anythin’,” he chuckled.”

“Oh, that’s fine!” Claire blurted, wondering if she meant it would be fine if he flashed her. Feeling heat creep up her chest, she turned and walked to the kitchen to heat up a cup of tea for him.

Jamie’s clothes made up a wet pile near the door, and he now sat by the fire, presumably naked.

“I’ll hang these up in the bathroom so they can dry out a bit,” Claire set his cup of steaming tea before him.

She now had a nearly naked Scotsman in her living room, clothed in a plaid with no dry clothes. What had she gotten herself into?

As Claire returned to him, she was pleased to see that his color was already returning, his skin no longer showing a startling sign of blue. “You really scared me out there,” she said as she sat down across from him on the carpeted floor.

“Who knows what would have become of me had ye not found me,” Jamie sipped the tea. “Were ye comin’ to find me or was there another reason ye were out in the blizzard?”

“I was worried,” Claire admitted freely. “It’d been nearly four hours and you hadn’t returned.”

“Tracking the time, eh?” He teased her, clearly loving to watch her squirm. “I’m glad ye did.”

“I suppose I’ll have to go back later and fetch the wood,” Claire pointed back outside. “I don’t want you to go outside until you’re fully warm and your lips are no longer blue!”

“Are they?” He touched them with his fingertips. “Christ, my balls are blue too,” he laughed.

Claire couldn’t help but laugh, and tried her hardest not to let her eyes wander down to that part of his anatomy. She had heard that old joke about how Scotsmen don’t wear anything under their kilts and she wondered…

“What’s yer story, Claire Beauchamp,” Jamie said a moment later, startling her out of her thoughts.

“My story?” Claire grabbed another plaid from the chair nearby, wrapping it around her shoulders. “I’m quite plain really, there isn’t much to say.”

“Och,” Jamie scoffed. “I dinna believe that. A beautiful English woman such as yerself is far from plain, and besides, everyone has got a story.”

“Then what’s your story, Jamie Fraser,” Claire asked, feeling completely at ease.

“Agh, that’s not fair! I asked ye first,” he laughed.

“I’ll tell you once you tell me yours,” she nudged his bare foot with her fuzzy sock clad one.

Jamie eyed her suspiciously, and Claire noticed for the first time how strikingly blue his eyes were. A stark contrast to her own dark amber ones. Everything about his was a stark contrast to her — his flaming red hair to her dull brown, his tanned skin to her pale, and his largeness to her smaller frame.

He set the cup of tea on the coffee table, careful not to let the plaid slip. “Well, ye ken about how I built this place wi’ my Da. I mentioned he passed a few years ago, and my Mam passed a few years before him.”

“I’m so sorry, Jamie,” Claire said.

“Tis hard sometimes,” he shrugged, giving her a warm smile. “Not always, as most days ye think of them randomly and wi’ a happy memory. Holidays are hard, especially this time of year for me.”

He began to tell her about his life. How he had lived in Scotland all his life, but gone to university in Paris, and earned his degree in business. He had one older sister, Jenny, who was married to his childhood best friend Ian and they had three children. As Jamie talked about his family and his childhood home, Lallybroch, Claire could picture it in her mind. His knack for telling stories was unmatched, and she figured that would be the Scottish-ness of him. Geillis was quite good at telling stories of her own.

“I’m a simple man, who only needs a few things,” Jamie continued. “I remember when we first found this land. I’ve always thought that I needed a mountain to live on, a space to call my own and this is it.”

“You live here on the property then?”

“Aye, just a five-minute drive down the road though,” he nodded, pulling the plaid tight around him. “My Da and I built that first to see if we could even build anythin’,” he laughed.

“But it was somethin’ special once we finally finished it. The first night there was everything I thought and more,” he said dreamily. “There’s somethin’ about building yer own house wi’ yer own two hands. It makes ye appreciate the walls around ye that keep ye warm and safe.”

“It’s amazing what you’ve created here, Jamie,” Claire reached out and placed her hand on his. “I’m sure if your father were here, he’d be proud of all the success.”

“I’d like to think so,” Jamie moved his fingers over hers, squeezing lightly. “Ye said that ye were plain,” he sniffed. “I feel my story is quite plain and boring.”

“It’s not,” Claire shook her head slowly. “It’s yours and that’s what matters.”

He cocked a brow at her, and she rolled her eyes playfully. “Alright, I get it. My story is important too. Although once I tell it to you, you’ll find it’s rather depressing.”

“Well, spit it out, Sassenach,” he rubbed his thumb over her fingers, still clinging on. “Dinna leave me in suspense.”

Claire took a deep breath, deciding that she would be truthful with him — after all, he had told her all about his life, it was the least she could do.

“For starters, I should tell you the real reason I’m here… alone, on Christmas,” Claire began. “I just recently got divorced, and quite frankly, I didn’t want to spend another second in my house that wasn’t decorated and that reminded me of my ex.”

“Who was daft enough to let a lass like ye go?” Jamie smirked, not making her feel pitiful like she usually did when she told people.

“Frank Randall,” Claire groaned. “That’s who. He cheated on me with nearly half the population of Oxford. I was the fool who found out five years into our marriage. I really thought he loved me, and that he was different, but I guess all men are the same deep down.”

Jamie cleared his throat at this, causing her to look up.

“Perhaps not all men,” she corrected. “But the Frank’s of the world are all cut of the same cloth. It’s a relief to not be married to him anymore, but I never thought I would be a divorced woman at the age of twenty-seven.”

“Frank Randall is an idiot,” Jamie said sternly. “He had a wonderful wife, and he clearly didna pay any attention to her. A wife is someone that should be cherished, kissed every day and respected.”

“Are you married?” Claire gulped as she asked. She had seen no ring on his finger, even now as he gripped her hand.

“No, no I havena been so lucky,” he smiled sadly. “But I watched how my parents were. I saw the love between them, the partnership they shared, and I ken that one day I want to have a love like theirs.”

Claire could see that he loved his parents very much, and was sad for him that he had lost them both. “I lost my parents when I was about five,” she said. “I don’t remember what their marriage was like, but my uncle whom I lived with told me they loved each other deeply.”

“There’s hope for ye yet, Sassenach,” Jamie grinned. “Ye’ll find a man who will treat ye as ye deserve, I ken it.”

With stories exchanged, a hush fell upon the room. Claire’s hand was still held between Jamie’s fingers, and she had no intention of letting go. She looked out the window to see that the snow was still falling, adding to the already high pile of fluff.

“It looks like you may be here for the night,” Claire said and he followed her gaze to the window. “The roads are probably covered with the stuff, and you’re still shivering.”

Jamie’s teeth chattered, proving her right. “You should take the bedroom, you’ll be much warmer in a cozy bed than on the sofa. I don’t want to be held responsible for the owner of Fraser’s Ridge losing all his toes!”

“Nah, Claire,” he shook his head. “I canna take yer room. Ye paid for it, and I wouldna feel right puttin’ ye out. I’ll sleep by the fire if I must.”

“No,” Claire stood up and held out her hand to him. “You were passed out in the snow for hours, Jamie! You’re obviously still cold, and there’s a small fireplace in their too. You would know after all.”

He seemed to be weighing his options. While the sofa was comfortable, it was nothing compared to a pocket of warmth one found in a big bed. Jamie was a large man, and Claire bet that his feet would hang off the sofa.

“If you feel so guilty, then you can comp me the night for putting me out of the room,” Claire smirked, her hand still stretched out for him to take.

With a deep grunt, Jamie took her hand and stood up, keeping the plaid wrapped tightly over his body. Claire wanted to slip her hands inside to touch him but pulled her hand away as soon as he was stable.

“There’s also a hot water bottle under the bathroom sink,” Jamie sniffed. “Would ye mind fixin’ it up for me? It seems I still canna feel the tips of my wee fingers,” he wiggled them in front of her.

“Of course,” Claire grinned. “And I’ll bring you another cup of tea once you’re settled. Who knew I would be tucking a very large scot into bed on Christmas night?!”

“Certainly no’ me,” Jamie chuckled. He turned then to go to the bedroom, leaving Claire alone to fix up a fresh cuppa.

There was no way she could fall asleep tonight knowing that he was sleeping in her bed. As she waited for the water to boil, her thoughts turned to his long limbs under the sheets — his freckled arms reaching out to pull her close while she curled into his chest. Claire had never particularly been one for physical touch, but even now, her fingers missed his touch, and it was as if her body was longing to be next to his.

Claire went into the bedroom quietly, seeing that Jamie was already in bed, his eyes closed, but she knew he wasn’t asleep. She found the hot water bottle exactly where he said it’d be, and returned to the kitchen to fill it with the hot water. With that in hand, as well as the cup of tea, she went to him.

“Delivery from Santa’s elf,” Claire whispered, and his eyes popped open, a grin on his lips. “This ought to warm you up.”

Jamie took the tea from her, his hands curling around the cup. The covers were tucked under the bed and Claire pulled them up to tuck the hot water bottle at his feet, making sure it didn’t burn him. She had to admit that it looked awfully cozy in there, and she wanted to hop in next to him.

“Ye ken tis no’ that late,” Jamie said as he sipped. “There’s a TV in here as well, we could put on a Christmas movie?”

“You mean… get into the bed with you?”

He blinked, owl-like up at her. “Aye, yer no’ goin’ to sit on the floor while I have the whole bed to myself, Sassenach,” he gave a loud pat to the spot next to him. “We’re hardly strangers, since ye saved my life, ye ken.”

She probably should have hesitated far longer than she did, but with a shrug, Claire walked around to the other side and climbed in, still quite far away from him as it was a rather large bed. The remote was on her side, and she pressed the power button, bringing It’s a Wonderful Life to the screen.

“Och, this is one of my favorites,” Jamie grinned and wiggled deeper under the covers. Claire laughed at that, and he glanced over at her with a matching smirk. “I love the old black and white ones, don’t ye?”

“Oh yes,” Claire sighed happily, and pulled up the covers. “There’s something so nostalgic about them.”

Geillis would be happy to know that Claire did, in fact, have a man in her bed. It wasn’t exactly what she had in mind, but Geillis didn’t need to know all the details.

The two of them laughed at the funny parts, and were silent as George Bailey went along with Clarence the angel. The heat from the fireplace was comforting, and the bed was soft beneath her tired body. Claire’s eyes were fluttering shut, and while her brain knew she shouldn’t fall asleep next to him, the rest of her body didn’t seem to respond. Sleep washed over her, and she heard the distant ringing of bells as she fell into a deep sleep.

When she woke a little while later, she was surprised to find it was still dark outside. She must have drifted off for only a few hours. Claire was also surprised to feel a heavy weight — Jamie’s arm — wrapped around her stomach. As Claire’s senses came back to her, she realized that her body was curved with his, and his face was nuzzled into her neck.

There was no way she could get out of his embrace without waking him, and she knew he needed to sleep. No wonder she’d woken up, his body was radiating heat now and she was now covered in a thin layer of sweat. His breathing was deep and heavy, his arm tight around her, so she went limp and tried to relax herself into going back to sleep.

But her senses were on high alert now. Her imagination running wild as she felt with her mind his body against hers. With her knees bent, he had his legs pressed against hers. They were spooning. She was the little spoon of course. It was such an intimate position to be in with someone she’d only just met that day. Although, Claire had never slept like this with Frank. He was always on the other side of the bed, with only a kiss on the cheek before he fell fast asleep.

Perhaps, Claire had been craving someone’s touch all her life, and had never found it. Jamie lightly snored and the vibration ran throughout her body. Shifting to get more comfortable, Claire froze and gasped.

Her bottom was pressed snugly against his crotch, and there was no mistaking the hardness she now felt. Claire couldn’t suppress the laughter nor the arousal she felt. Any warm-blooded male would surely get turned on with a woman’s arse wedged between his thighs.

If it was anyone but Jamie, she would have been disgusted and jumped out of the bed. But she felt safe here in his arms, and the idea that she could turn him on even while he slept was erotic.

With that part of his anatomy reminding her just what she wanted to do to him, she gave up on sleep, and simply enjoyed being in his arms, as this would most likely not be a repeat occurrence.

“Sassenach,” he mumbled sleepily, startling her. Her body was now tight as a bowstring, waiting for him to realize what position they were in.

“Oh,” his arm around her stomach slipped away, allowing her to turn and face him.

“You know what they say about body heat,” she grinned, her face barely visible in the dim glow of the dying fire. “It’s the best way to get warm. Don’t worry about it, Jamie.”

“I dinna want ye to think I was takin’ advantage of ye,” he rubbed his hand over his eyes to better see her. “I must have drifted over to ye in my sleep w’out knowin’ it.”

“Jamie,” Claire laughed softly. “We’re still on your side of the bed. If anyone drifted, it was me.”

“I do feel much warmer now,” Jamie observed as he stretched his legs. “I can go out to the sofa now so ye can sleep.”

He made to move, flipping the covers back, and without thinking, Claire grabbed his arm to pull him back.

“I want you to stay,” she whispered, as her heart hammered in her chest.

Answering her plea, Jamie fell back into the bed and turned on his side to face her. He moved his hand to settle on her waist, waiting to see if it was okay. With a slight nod from her, Jamie pulled her closer until she fit against his chest. She looked up at him, meeting his blue eyes only inches from hers. There was no going back now.

“I dinna have any mistletoe,” Jamie said softly, his arms cradling her body.

“What?” Claire laughed, not expecting him to say that.

“Mistletoe,” he said again. “The wee green stuff ye hang over yer head at Christmas so ye can kiss someone.”

Claire buried her head against his chest, laughing. “I think we can manage without the mistletoe, don’t you think?”

“Aye,” one hand came to brush back the curls from her face. Their bodies were pressed so close that kissing didn’t even seem like an intimate idea.

They found each other in the dark. Jamie cupped her cheek reverently as he pressed his lips to hers. His jaw and neck were covered with scruff that itched pleasantly against her skin, and Claire wanted to purr like a kitten as he kissed her deeper.

Guiding her hands into his curly locks, she held on tight as she parted his lips with her tongue. The heat seeped from his body to hers, but a shiver went over her body as his hand snaked down to grip her arse, squeezing lightly.

“Mmmm,” she moaned, pressing her hips against his.

Claire was not entirely certain this wasn’t just a dream, and that she would wake up alone in bed. But for the moment, Jamie felt very real and his flesh under her hands seemed to yield to her touch.

They broke apart, only so that they could push the covers out of the way before coming back together. Jamie pulled Claire on top of him, his hands finding her hips and anchoring her against him. Sadly, she found out that he had not been naked the entire evening as her fingers skimmed the edge of his boxer briefs.

Her hips moved seductively, rolling against his groin. He was hard again, and with every snap of her hips a small sound left Jamie’s throat. His hands moved from her hips to her arse to push her closer. The kiss was so deep that she could hardly breathe.

“God, Sassenach,” Jamie sighed. “I’ve never wanted anyone so badly in all my life!”

Claire peppered kisses over his neck and chest, not wanting to part with the low lusty sounds he was making.

“Jesus, lass,” he muttered between breaths as he realized what she was doing. Claire shimmied down his body, leaving a trail of kisses in her wake. “Ye dinna have to…”

Looking up at him through long thick lashes, she smirked. “I appreciate the choice, but I’m willing, that is if you are?”

He cocked a brow at her, almost as a challenge. “As long as I can return the favor,” he said smugly.

Heat flashed over her body as he stared at her. She had to tear her gaze away from him to settle to the task before her. His body was sculpted to perfection. She ran her fingers over the grooves of his abs, swirling around the wiry hairs at his belly button. His breath hitched as her hands rested on the tops of his boxers.

Claire held his gaze as she pulled them slowly down his legs. His cock sprang free as the material was removed. Her belly quivered at the sight of his impressive thick length jutting upwards towards his stomach. Reflexively, Jamie’s legs widened and she slid down further to fit herself between them.

“Sassenach,” Jamie said with a hoarse voice. “I dinna feel that ‘tis fair that I’m the one naked and yer still covered up.”

“Oh,” Claire glanced down at herself. “I didn’t even realize.” She reached for the hem of her sweater, but two hands stopped her. Jamie pulled her to straddle him again. Now his hands crept up her sweater, his skin warm on her flesh. His fingers tickled her stomach before finally pulling up the material and tossing it over the side. She saw his tongue snake out and wet his lips as he looked at her breasts, covered only now by her black bra. With his skilled fingers, he unhooked it in seconds, tossing it to join the pile of growing clothes.

“May I?” His hands drummed a tattoo against her hips as he held her body over his.

“Yes, please,” Claire blushed and threaded one hand through his hair, following his movements as he leaned down and took one of her pink nipples into his mouth. His pull was insistent, and he began to suck, his cheeks hollowing. Claire’s head fell back as he pressed her against his mouth, sucking harder. A deep cry left her throat as he flicked his tongue back and forth over the sensitive nub.

“Aye, that’s it, Sassenach,” Jamie kissed the underside of her breast. “Make those wee noises for me!”

His mouth moved to the other breast, repeating the same process. His tongue was warm and he swirled the tip around her nipple, and they puffed up, now engorged and swollen from his lips. Before she could move back down his body, Jamie’s hands found her tights and began to pull them off as well as her panties.

“I wish I could see ye in the light,” Jamie said quietly as she pulled the material off her foot, letting it fall to the floor.

“No you don’t,” Claire snorted unflatteringly. “This is enough light so you don’t see all my bumps and squiggles.”

“Bumps and squiggles,” Jamie laughed adorably and pressed his lips against her stomach. “Claire, yer so beautiful. I feel I dinna deserve to be here wi’ ye, holdin’ ye in my arms.”

“You’re one to talk,” Claire ran her finger lightly down the slope of his straight nose. “It’s like making love to a god.”

“Tcha!” Jamie rubbed his hands slowly up and down her sides. She began to rock her hips against him, feeling his length grow between her thighs.

“I’ve never felt like this, Jamie,” Claire admitted. “With anyone.”

He picked up her hand and entwined their fingers, bringing their joint hands to rest over his heart. “Neither have I, Sassenach. I think ye are my Christmas wish come true.”

At that, she shyly buried her head against his neck, her body still gently rocking against his, the friction building. Her arms wrapped around his neck, as his arms settled on her hips. Claire gasped as the tip of his cock brushed against her clit.

She felt his hand move between their bodies as he took hold of himself. Jamie pumped his cock once before sliding it along her wet center. Claire shivered, biting down gently on the padded flesh of his shoulder. He was teasing her entrance with his cock, and just the tip entered her and she clutched his hair tightly.

Her body was shaking with the need to sink down on him, and she pulled back to look into his eyes. One hand came to rest on her lower back, his other still between their bodies. From just the tip, she knew that he was huge, and would fill her completely. Her stomach tightened in anticipation, and she couldn’t help but roll her hips, hearing the sound of the wetness their bodies made.

“I must take ye, Claire,” Jamie said as his grip tightened on her. “I must or I’ll die!”

Claire felt the same, as her heart pounded fast and hard in her chest. She wanted to explode, and as she sank down on his cock, she thought she just might. Their moans mingled together in the air as he filled her.

“Christ,” he whispered. The hand that had been holding his cock found her hand and he gripped it tightly as she began to rock her hips. Claire had never felt so close to someone, not just physically but emotionally. No one had ever looked her in the eyes as they bared their soul with her. There was nothing left unsaid as they gave over to one another.

Claire kept up the slow and steady rhythm of her hips, and overcome with emotions, she pressed her face into his neck, feeling tears spring to her eyes. Jamie held her close, his other hand rubbing slowly up and down her back. He thrust upwards, hitting a spot so deep inside of her, that Claire didn’t know such pleasure existed.

“Oh God,” she panted.

“Oh Claire,” Jamie breathed heavily.

She was close, and she began to grind down faster and harder, feeling his body begin to tremble. Quickly, she pulled back so that she could watch him fall apart. His length throbbed inside of her, and his mouth opened and closed, as the words failed to come out.

With a sharp snap of her hips, Claire felt her own orgasm coming, as she clenched around his cock. Jamie’s hands squeezed her hips, helping her ride him. His eyes flicked back and forth from her bouncing breasts to her face as she came.

Jamie cried out, “Claire!” before spilling inside of her, his body spasming. Tingles shot down her spine, and she held onto him for dear life. Carefully, Claire adjusted her position so she could wrap her legs around his waist and she clung to him, almost like a monkey.

His hands were soothing on her back, lightly stroking. He stayed rooted inside of her, reluctant to leave her body.

“I didn’t know it could be like that,” Claire said softly against his chest.

“I didna either,” Jamie echoed. “Perhaps it depends on who yer wi’.”

Claire chuckled, but sighed happily at this. Whatever it was between them… it wasn’t usual.

After time passed and they both were sated, Jamie shifted and then moved Claire to lay in his arms, her head comfortably against his chest as she looked up at him.

“When I first met ye, all those hours ago,” he snorted. “I felt a… a sort of draw to ye, Sassenach. Like I just had to be close to ye. To hear yer voice, touch yer skin. I thought I’d do anythin’ to be near to ye.”

“Really?” Claire ran her fingers lightly over his stubbled chin.

“Aye,” he smiled. “Twas the strangest thing. While I was out chopping the wood, I found myself thinking about ye, and I’d known ye all of five minutes!”

“I felt the same,” Claire smiled, pleased that she hadn’t been crazy. “I was waiting for you to come back with the wood. I even changed my clothes,” she laughed quietly. “When you didn’t come back, I grew impatient and that’s when I decided to look for you. I just knew I had to see you again.”

“I dinna wish my niece any ill tidings,” Jamie stroked her cheek. “But I’m verra glad that she got sick after lunch and I came back here. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than here wi’ ye in my arms. Ye see, Claire, and this may sound hasty, but I talk to you as I talk to my own soul," he said, turning her face to him. He reached down and cupped her cheek, fingers light on her temple.

"And, Sassenach," he whispered, "your face is my heart.”

Claire closed her eyes as he kissed her, feeling like something opened up inside of her at his words.

“I certainly didn’t expect this,” she said. “I thought I would never be able to recover after my divorce. That my heart was used and not able to be loved again. But, with you, Jamie… I feel things I’ve never felt. A closeness to you, as if I could tell you anything and nothing would surprise or scare you.”

He pressed their lips together once again. “I feel as if our souls have belonged to each other far longer than our bodies have.”

“I don’t think I can part from you, Jamie,” Claire said sleepily, yawning.

“Shhh,” Jamie kissed her forehead and slid further into bed, pulling the covers around her. “Sleep, a nighean donn. When ye wake, I’ll be here.”

“Mmmm,” Claire nuzzled against him, and fell asleep to him muttering something in a language she recognized as Gaelic.

++++++

When Claire opened her eyes, she did wake in his arms. The sun filled the room, and she wasn’t shocked to see that the snow still fell outside. The fire had gone out long ago, but Jamie’s body heat kept her warm. In her sleep, she had shifted to lie curled against his body, and she placed a soft kiss to his neck, rousing him.

“Good morning, sleepy head,” she kissed his jaw.

“Yer insatiable,” Jamie groaned, all while keeping his eyes shut. His hands were locked around her back, and they slid down to rest over her arse.

“The same could be said about you,” she poked him playfully in the chest.

Before the morning could unfold like the previous night, however, a loud gurgle came from Claire’s stomach, making Jamie’s eyes pop open.

“I guess all that activity made me hungry,” she nipped at his bottom lip.

Jamie laughed and then rolled her body on top of his. “First we shall eat, and then I plan to devour ye,” he nibbled on her ear lobe, making her squirm.

Another loud gurgle sounded in the room and this time from Jamie.

A cold breeze drifted across her naked body as Jamie pushed off the covers. She rolled off his body and stood up, grabbing the plaid to wrap around her. Jamie opted for his boxers, tugging them on as he yawned.

They ventured out into the kitchen, sitting on two stools. Claire placed a bowl in front of Jamie and poured cereal into it.

“Tell me when to stop,” Claire said as she poured the milk.

“That’s good,” he smiled. “Breakfast of champions.”

“If I knew I would have company, I’d have bought proper breakfast,” Claire said as she sat down at the counter next to him.

“I dinna think this will be our last breakfast together,” Jamie’s foot nudged hers, making her grin sheepishly.

“No, I dare say it won’t.”

They ate quickly, impatient to return to each other’s arms. Food was necessary to continue making love, but Claire was shoveling the cereal down her throat as fast as she could, with only one strange look from Jamie.

“Dinna choke, Sassenach,” Jamie laughed as Claire wiped the milk from her lips. “I canna make love to ye if yer dead.”

“Sorry,” she blushed.

Jamie pushed his bowl aside, and grabbed her hand. “Dinna apologize, ’tis charming for some reason. But now that yer belly is full, I can have my way wi’ ye!”

He stood up, spinning her on the stool until she faced him. Jamie’s arms wrapped around her stomach and he lifted her into the air, plaid and all. She landed over his shoulder, and her bum was given a nice firm pat, making her giggle.

“You better not drop me, Fraser!”

“Not a chance,” he chuckled, bouncing his knees as if he was dropping her. Claire shrieked, but laughed, letting her arms dangle over his back. She slid her hands over his arse, giving it a firm squeeze.

“Enough of that,” he smirked, walking into the bathroom where he set her on her feet. His hands reached for the plaid around her shoulders and pushed it off of her. Claire returned the favor by removing his boxers, enjoying the sight of his erect cock on her way back up to kiss him.

“Just what are we doing in here?” She hooked both arms around his neck.

“I’ve fed ye,” Jamie kissed her nose, “and now I need to wash ye.”

“Do I stink?” Claire blushed, self conscious as she put her arms down.

“No,” he shook his head. “But ever since I set eyes on that curly wig of yers, I’ve wanted to get my hands into it. If that doesna sound too weird,” he bit his bottom lip.

“Oh,” she said. The shower was certainly big enough for the two of them, and she moved out of his grasp to turn on the hot water, watching as the room began to steam up.

Claire grabbed his fingers, pulling him into the shower after her. They stood under the water, letting it drench them. Once her hair was wet, Jamie grabbed the shampoo and drizzled a fair amount into the palms of his hands, lathering until suds formed.

Spinning until she faced the shower wall, Claire sighed as his hands massaged her scalp. He had large strong fingers — fingers that had explored her body the night before. Fingers that made Claire moan as she imagined them inside of her.

“Feel good?”

“Hmmm?”

Jamie laughed, still rubbing the shampoo into her hair. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Feeling like she was floating, Claire allowed Jamie to move her under the water to rinse out the shampoo. He then pushed her back against the wall, his mouth landing on her neck. The water poured down his back, cascading down his skin.

Claire’s eyes sprang open from her dreamy state as she felt his lips nibble on her breast briefly before moving south.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ,” Claire muttered as she looked down to find Jamie on his knees looking up at her. His hands settled on her waist, making sure that she didn’t fall down on top of him.

“I told ye I would devour ye, Sassenach,” he growled before licking slowly up her center. Claire’s legs buckled, but his hands squeezed her hips. The tip of his tongue flicked out against her clit before two of his fingers spread her lips. His tongue darted inside of her, and Claire’s head fell back against the wall.

Her hands found his head, holding on tight to his hair as he began to bop his head. Like a kitten lapping at milk, Jamie began to lick and suck her folds.

“Oh God,” Claire sighed. Jamie lifted her right leg to rest over her shoulder and he adjusted the angle, now able to insert a finger inside of her. Her thighs involuntarily clenched around his head. Jamie chuckled against her skin, sending shivers over her body.

Glancing down, she could see that his cock was hard and throbbing. His other hand left her waist to take hold of himself, the thumb moving slowly up and down his cock. Watching his head move between her thighs as well as his hand pump himself made Claire’s orgasm come quickly, her body trembling under the water.

Jamie lapped up her juices, his mouth greedy for her taste. Peppering her thighs with kisses, he stood up, watching as she swayed slowly, her body still given over to pleasure.

“I could do that all day,” Jamie kissed her gently and she tasted herself on his lips.

“And I want you to,” Claire kissed him harder. “But not before I return the favor.”

Before he could say anything, she was already sliding down onto her knees. His cock was still hard, resting against his stomach. Finally able to see all of him in the light, Claire gasped. He was bloody huge and she was impressed that he managed to fit inside her so snugly the night before.

“Like what ye see, then?” He was watching her, grinning at her fascination with his member.

“I’m just trying to work out if you really are a god,” Claire said and kissed the tip of his cock, watching his thighs clench.

“Jesus,” Jamie grunted, placing one hand against the wall to steady himself. “Ye sure ken how to flatter a man.”

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” Claire smirked, running one finger down his cock. Her thumb rubbed slowly over the head, pulling back the foreskin. Moisture dripped down and she moved her lips around the tip, tasting him.

Jamie’s buttocks clenched, and moans left his lips as Claire took more of him in. Her fingers were skating lightly down the backs of his thighs. She enjoyed the shivers that ran down his body at her touch. With one hand she cupped his heavy balls, squeezing them firmly as her other hand pumped his cock.

Her tongue snaked out, flicking quickly over the head. Jamie’s eyes were shut, but they opened, dark blue and he watched her take him in her mouth. Her cheeks hollowed, and as he hit the back of her throat, she gagged, but was too eager to please him to stop. Claire bopped her head, moaning as his hand found her hair, not pushing or forcing her, but just moving with her motions.

She felt his balls draw up close to his body, and looked up, seeing how he was breathing quickly. Claire pulled him out of her mouth, now only sucking on the tip of his cock. His head bent down to watch her again, and as she flattened her tongue against his shaft, he came in long hard spasms. She milked him, her eyes focused on his face as he spilled into her hand and she licked the head clean.

Claire stood up, her body gliding along his. She placed her hands under the water, washing his seed off.

“I could do that all day,” she smirked, returning his sentiment from moments before.

“I guess if ye bed a vixen,” Jamie leaned his forehead against hers. “Ye have to expect to get bit.”

Claire laughed as he kissed her. They finished showering with wandering hands. They simply couldn’t get enough of each other.

Not bothering with clothes, Jamie and Claire dried off and stumbled towards the living room. Claire laid down near the fireplace as Jamie lit it. The twinkling lights shined above them. Jamie rolled against her as he laid next to her.

“How much longer is yer stay?” He asked, sighing contentedly against her neck, his breath warm.

“Three days,” Claire said, her fingers brushing through his curls at the nape of his neck.

“Hmm, three days. Would ye really leave before New Year’s Eve?” Jamie smirked.

“Only if I had a good reason not to leave,” Claire looked at him.

“Do ye?”

Did she? Jamie was certainly not someone she expected to fall for, but she had. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since they met, but already her heart belonged to him. This Christmas would be one she would remember forever, always thinking back to the day she met the love of her life.

“Yes,” she kissed him. “I do. Is that a date?”

“Aye,” Jamie grinned. “I can show ye what a proper Hogmanay is like, Sassenach!”

“I thought this would be a blue Christmas, but the only thing that was blue was your frostbitten skin,” Claire laughed.

“And my balls,” he added, laughing.

“And those,” Claire snickered. “I’m glad you fell down in the snow.”

“So am I,” Jamie rolled his body on top of hers. “What were those lyrics again… I’ll have a blue Christmas without you. I’ll be so blue just thinkin’ about you…”

There on Fraser’s Ridge, two strangers met, and fell in love on Christmas Day. They laughed as they never had before, loved with a passion they didn’t know existed, and had a very very merry Christmas.

Five days later, after spending day and night in each other’s arms and getting to know everything there was to know about the other, Claire packed up her things and said goodbye to Fraser’s Ridge.

She wasn’t headed home just yet, however, as Jamie was eager to take her to his childhood home, Lallybroch, for a Hogmanay celebration.

“Is your sister going to be very shocked at my being there?” Claire asked as they drove. She’d called Geillis a couple of days ago to ask if she could keep watching Ados. Of course, Geillis had given her hundred questions to answer, but Claire told her she’d give her all the juicy details when she got back to Oxford in a few days.

“Probably,” Jamie chuckled, one hand on the steering wheel, the other on Claire’s thigh. “I havena brought a lass home, so she’ll want to interrogate me. The good thing,” he smiled over at her, “is that we’ll be arriving shortly before the rest of the guests do, so she willna have time to do that!”

“Ahhh,” Claire laughed. “All part of your master plan, I see. So that’s why we didn’t arrive there yesterday or the day before.”

Jamie squeezed her leg. “Tis no’ that I dinna want her to meet ye, but I still want to keep ye all to myself. Plus, I dinna want to subject ye to a million questions that she’ll ask ye. There’s no need to rush this.”

“My lad,” Claire sighed happily. “I think it’s a bit late for that.”

Jamie smiled in agreement, and they drove on. Lallybroch wasn’t too far away, and within the hour, they were pulling up to the large stone estate. Jamie was right, as there were other cars pulling up at the same time as them.

“This place is not at all what I imagined,” Claire said in awe as Jamie turned off the car.

“Tis quite charming,” Jamie smiled. “Lallybroch means lazy tower, ye ken? I suppose it does lean a bit.”

Claire tilted her head to the side, admiring the house. She left her bag in his car, they would come out later to get that to stay the night in Jamie’s old room. Sliding his fingers through hers, Jamie pulled her close and together they walked up to the house.

People were milling about inside, and the atmosphere was electric with the air of celebration. The room smelled of meats and pies and Claire’s stomach growled with the need to be filled.

“Jamie!” Came a loud voice from their left. A short, raven haired woman came running towards them and Jamie let go of Claire’s hand to embrace her. “Ye finally made it ye numptie.”

“Aye, sorry we’re late,” Jamie said, giving his sister a kiss on the cheek.

“We?” Jenny craned her neck to look behind Jamie at Claire. Her eyes went wide, and her brows shot up to her forehead. “Hello, there.”

“Janet,” Jamie eyed his sister as he wrapped an arm protectively around Claire’s waist. “This is Claire Beauchamp.”

Claire noted how he didn’t explain where or when they’d met, and she though it best to keep it that way for now. She offered Jenny her hand, and waited awkwardly before his sister wrapped her arms lovingly around Claire.

“I’ll yell at ye later for no’ tellin’ me ye were bringin’ a lass,” Jenny said to Jamie as she hugged Claire. “But I’m happy that ye did. ’Tis nice to meet ye Claire. Sadly I dinna have much time to talk wi’ ye, but we’ll have plenty of time for that tomorrow. Ye are stayin’ the night?” She directed this question at Jamie who nodded.

“Good,” Jenny squeezed Claire’s hand. “Ian is around here somewhere with the bairns. He’ll love to see ye.”

“Oh aye,” Jamie took Claire’s hand again, pulling her out of Jenny’s grasp. Jenny smirked at her brother before leaving them alone, off to fulfill her hostess duties.

“Well, that went better than expected,” Jamie sighed. “Ye must give a good first impression, Sassenach.”

“I’ve never been told I give a bad one,” Claire tapped his nose. “Now that that is out of the way, can we please get something to eat?”

“Aye,” Jamie grinned. “And to drink!”

They found the table of food easily, and filled their plates high with mountains of savories and sweets. While Claire carried their bounty, Jamie grabbed two full glasses of cider and they made their way outside into the chilly air to get away from the noise.

The sound of laughter and music could still be heard outside as they sat down on a wooden bench.

“This is lovely, Jamie,” Claire took a bite of a mince pie. “Thank you for bringing me.”

“I’m glad ye are enjoyin’ it,” Jamie grinned over his cup. “It’ll get rowdy as the night wages on. Swords dances and the like.”

“Sword dances?” Claire questioned.

“Aye,” gulped. “Ye place two swords crossed over the other, and ye dance atop them. Highlanders used to do these types of dances for celebration or before a battle to predict the outcome. It’s a tradition now.”

“Will you be partaking in these sword dances?”

Jamie’s cheeks turned bright red. “I do every year,” he took a bite of haggis. “But this year I’ll have ye to cheer me on.”

They kept eating until their stomachs were full, and while Claire wanted more of the delicious food, she felt ready to pop.

The music was drawing them back inside, but Claire took Jamie’s hand, rubbing her fingers lightly over his, not wanting to leave their peaceful cocoon.

“I didn’t expect to feel this way about someone I met only a week ago,” Claire said softly. “I came to Scotland to get away from my old life, and to make myself forget the pain.”

Jamie was silent, but his eyes were focused on her as she spoke.

“I came to escape my old life, but I found something new,” Claire grinned. “Something worth holding onto.”

One of his large hands came up to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing off a bit of snow on her skin. “Something worth holdin’ onto,” he repeated. “Yer worth getting frostbite for, Sassenach. Yer worth shiverin’ until I canna feel anythin’.”

Claire smiled, “I know that you live here, and I live back in England, but I hope this won’t be the end.”

“Nah,” he leaned in close, resting his forehead against hers. “’Tis no’ the end, Claire. I reckon… it’s just the beginning.”

Snow began to fall harder, forcing them to move inside. They danced hand in hand, sang loudly and rang in the new year with a kiss, sealing their fate forever.

#blue christmas #without youuuuuu #jamie x claire #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #jamie fraser #claire fraser #fraser's ridge #one shot #christmas

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The Purge Night-

Demented

- Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

- Genre: The Purge!AU, smut, gore, violence

- Warnings/Tags: Knife play, murder, gun mention & use, light spanking, revenge killing, unprotected sex, fucking in a dead girls house, dom!Yoongi, rough sex, sexual tension, explicit language, girl biting her own tongue off, alcohol mention, sadistic thoughts

- Word Count: 4,304

- Summary: Tonight is the purge; you and Yoongi have a lot of built up anger with a side of being apathetic when it comes to other people. Throwing on some masks and taking anger out on the innocent may ease your guys’ psychotic frustrations.

|| Masterlist ||

The air is still on the morning of March 21st. The small hours are not filled with birds chirping to wake you up nor the sound of your alarm screeching in your ears. You and Yoongi took off this day of work because it held such a place in your guys’ hearts.

Not a lot of people necessarily liked you and Yoongi —especially the fact you guys spent every moment together. In fact, you guys were the only two that could really stand each other’s company given that’s why you and him had such a strong relationship. Lots of people talk about relationships they know nothing about. You and Yoongi learned how to deal with people talking bullshit on your guys’ relationship by writing what they say down, but not only what they say, who said it as well. Sometimes it would surprise you how many laughable words shortsighted people had to say about you and Yoongi.

March 20th, 2019

“I can’t help but feel disgusted when seeing those two together. All they do is rub all up on each other as if none of us are here. It’s called privacy and they need it!”

Kayla Rush

You pushed a little air out of your nostrils as a smile crept on your face while reading the words one of your coworkers said about you two yesterday. People have a hard time looking away and minding their own business when it comes to those kinds of things. Kissing, being close, resting your head on his shoulder, and flirting are some of the things people constantly complain about when it comes to you two together. Not to mention the people that make fun of you both.

January 30th, 2019

“Is it just me or does anyone else notice how fat (y/n) is getting? Let’s hope it’s comfort weight and not a baby bump. I would never want to see how ugly their baby would be.”

Nicole Thorton

Thumbing through more pages of your little complaint journal you couldn’t help but feel a little annoyed about how nosey people can be. You always thought the backstabbing and the gossip would stop after high school but you couldn’t have never been farther from the truth. The constant talk turned you cold. Being forced to work around people that you hear talk about you all the time was excruciating. You and Yoongi wait for today to stop the torment you guys feel daily and that’s why it was so special.

You didn’t realize Yoongi was awake beside you until he grabbed the book from your hands to set it on the table behind him.

“Fuck what they say; today is our day,” his voice is slightly muffled from the blanket pulled to his face. He reaches his hand out to rest on top of one of yours. “How about we eat some breakfast and then go shopping for the necessities for tonight?” His smirk is visible from one eye wrinkled slightly.

“Sounds like a plan,” you both step out of bed and waddle your way to the kitchen. The overly sugary bowl of cereal coats your mouth in a lingering sweet taste. A commercial for LED masks on the television grabs yours and Yoongi’s attention. “We have to get them Yoongi. People were wearing them last year and I was always so jealous of how cool they looked!” You speak with a whine, making Yoongi smile with a mouth full of cereal. He swallows the rest of the food in his mouth.

“Say no more.”

After throwing on some clothes, your fingers clasp around Yoongi’s on the way to the car. It was time to go shopping for the supplies tonight. Once arriving at Party City for the masks, you saw Kayla looking at costumes as well. Kayla definitely seemed like one of the people to stay inside of their house like a pussy, so you couldn’t help but feel a bit confounded. You slide up next to her and pretended to look at a cheap ghost bride costume.

“Oh hey, (y/n)! What are you doing here? Plans for tonight?” She beams— clearly forged from how she talks to people she’s actually interested in.

“Yoongi and I were looking at masks over here, but I couldn’t help but peak a look at their costumes— never know what you could find here. And yes, as a matter of fact, we do have some plans to take care of tonight,” You peel a smile to make yourself sound not so bloodthirsty for what is coming tonight. “Anyways, enough about me! What about you? I’m assuming you aren’t dressing up as a sexy nurse to stay inside all night!” The conversation breaks with a fake laughter.

“No, you’re correct. Every year I usually stay inside for The Annual Purge-“

I knew it, You bite your cheek to keep the thought to yourself.

“-but this year I wanted to see for myself if the release everyone keeps talking about is worth it!” She rambles. The conversation drags on about work and life up till you cut the conversation and you both part ways.

“Well I’ll leave you alone so you can shop in peace. Maybe we’ll run into each other tonight. I’ll keep an eye out for a nurse roaming the streets,” You crack a laugh out of her. You retreat back to Yoongi and find that he has both of the masks in his hands.

“You done talking to that bimbo over there?” He scoffs. Not only did Kayla have her fair share of speaking her opinions on your relationship; she also tried breaking you two up when she tried sleeping with Yoongi. When she got denied, she made up a story about how he tried to sleep with her and spread the false information across the whole office. You and Yoongi were the only ones who were willing to tell the truth about how desperate she really was.

“Yeah, I just needed to find out where she was going. She’s going to be out and about, so we may not be able to see her tonight,” you mutter disappointingly. You guys make your way to check out the items and back home to get changed.

When at home, it is already 2:00 pm. Now that the outfits were sorted out: a green LED mask with a black hoodie and pants for Yoongi, and a red LED mask and a slim black dress for you. It was time to sort out the weapons. There were so many weapons that have been collected from previous years that it was time to reuse some from the past. You both choose to take machetes, handheld machine guns, and you take your trusty dagger. After years of spending purge night together, you both have your own favorite weapons to use. You have your own dagger and Yoongi uses brass knuckles that contain spikes on each knuckle. Granted you can only use the favorite weapons when someone was close enough; it made the fight intimate when you were able to watch the life spill from them face to face. Maybe that’s why they’re your guys’ favorite weapons.

5:00 pm. Dinner time. Yoongi made spaghetti with some red wine. You are both now dressed in everything but the masks. He sets a plate of noodles in front of you and pours a little wine in your glass.

“We may have to find a place to stop for a bit tonight because I don’t think I will be able to fall asleep tonight if I haven’t fucked you in that dress,” His pupils were dilating and his eyes drift up and down your figure.

You bite your lip slightly at the thought of him ripping this dress off of you right now, but you wanted it to be more tonight. You lift the glass up to your lips and take a sip while looking up at him. You could tell how much he wanted to take you right here too, but he understood what you wanted. Danger. You glide your foot up and down the inside of one of his legs during dinner. The way his breath grew sharper the closer you got to his cock made your dress dampen under you. You guys finish the dinner full of tantalizing eventually and begin the finishing touches for the night. The masks were on, guns slung around your backs, machetes in one hand, while the brass knuckles were in the other for Yoongi and your dagger was placed in a leather case around your thigh.

The sound of the alarm rang through your house when it hit 7:00 pm. It brought joyous goosebumps to your body as if you were listening to your favorite song.

“This is not a test, this is your Emergency Broadcast System. Announcing the commencement of the annual purge sanctioned by the U.S. Government. Weapons of class four and lower have been authorized for use during the purge. All other weapons are restricted. Government officials of ranking 10 have been granted immunity and shall not be harmed. Commencing at the siren, any and all crime (including murder) will be legal for 12 continuous hours. Police, fire, and Emergency Medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning at 7:00 a.m. When the purge concludes. Blessed be our new founding fathers and America... A nation reborn. May God be with you all.”

You and Yoongi look at each other and give each other one hungry and hot kiss before disconnecting to talk. “Let’s go have some fun” You giggle, bringing one out from Yoongi as well. The first step out of the door and into the world that has become a temporary anarchy always sent lightning bolts of adrenaline through your body. The feeling was addictive and every year you craved the feeling of danger more than the next. The roads were empty on the streets you lived on— they always were. They knew what you guys did every year and they were terrified of you both. You and Yoongi stop on the curb outside of your house. He takes the little journal out of his pocket and flicks through the pages.

“Who’s our first stop?” You skip up and down a line in front of him. You swing your arms around with ease— not phased by the fact that one of your hands was occupied with holding the machete.

“Let’s see what Nicole is up to at this hour today, shall we? I saw how bothered you were when rereading what she said about you this morning,” he watches you stop skipping around. He steps down from the curb and stuffs the journal back into his pocket. “What do you say? Should Nicole be our first stop tonight?”

“I couldn’t think of anyone better. Maybe we’ll see Kayla on the way,” You agree and step forward in the direction of Nicole’s house. Everyone that was written in the journal was from work because those are the people you see everyday. Before leaving work yesterday, Yoongi made sure to glance at our target’s records to know our directions for tonight. He pulls out his phone to look at the pictures of addresses he took: 8300 Main Street. The area was not hard to get around given it was a small town. Usually on purge night, walking was the method of getting around town. Roaming people were a bonus to see and it was simply more fun that way. Usually you guys wouldn’t see people that you knew, but tonight Kayla was a target.

It wasn’t long before you and Yoongi were standing in front of Nicole’s house. It was a nice house with a weak security system. It was known in the office that she was single and lived alone, meaning no one will be in there but her. Perfect. Just in case she had weapons on the inside, you both inch your way up to her window which was elevated low enough for you guys to climb in. You were about to swing the butt of your gun at the corner of the window, but Yoongi’s hand stopped the gun mid-swing. He held up his finger to signal that there was something he noticed. His fingers claw under the window and slow push it up. It was unlocked.

“What a dumb ass,” He whispers. He lifted you in first before he pulled himself in. The house was dark except for a light reaching around a hallway corner. You slowly make your way and notice that Nicole is sitting there watching TV completely unbothered and not aware of the strangers in her house. You tilt your head while viewing her. She was gorgeous, it is such a shame when beautiful people have rotten personalities. You tap your machete on the wall next to you in an attempt to get her attention.

“What the-What the fuck?!” She jumps to her feet and scrambles to get farther away. Due to the high kick of adrenaline and fear, she trips over the coffee table behind her and lands to the ground with a hard thud. She shuffled back until she hit a wall, her eyes wet and her chest heaving. You begin to recite the disrespectful words she once spoke of you in hopes to freshen her mind of the day. “What are you saying? Who are you guys?!” She cries aggressively.

“Stop acting dumb or I’ll lose my patience,” You inch towards her with a slow strut. The sound of the machete dragging on the floor behind you made her body tremble. Yoongi follows beside you until you both stand over her. You bring the machete under her chin and lift her soaking wet face up. Her eyes meet your LED X’s and she jerks away. “No, no, no. Look at me. Tell me you remember,” You hiss.

“Remember what?” She desperately tries to get a grasp at what the actual fuck was happening right now and why. She would have never thought that someone would be planning to kill her tonight. She didn’t think of herself as someone that deserved to die.

“Babe, do you think you can handle her for a minute? I need to go check my weight. I think I’m gaining a little weight...wait maybe it’s a baby bump? Oh god, oh god! We wouldn’t want to have that, Nicole would find our baby hideous!” You watch the realization of who you two are hit her face.

“I-I-I didn’t mean any of that! You know how people can get in the heat of the moment when people are gossiping! You are stunning a-and not even close to fat! Your guys’ babies will be so far from ugly,” The words spill from her mouth so quickly that it was almost impossible to understand. You both laugh in her face and you firmly place the machete back under her chin. She starts sobbing loudly. “Please...don’t hurt me.”

“Shut the fuck up and stop crying. Your tears are going to stain my weapon,” You spit coldly. She begins to choke back the tears and snot back into her throat.

“What are you going to do with me?” Her voice quiet, defeated, and shaky. You look over at Yoongi and he gives you a slow nod. You both look back at her slowly and Yoongi bends down to her level.

“Count yourself uninvited to the baby shower,” Yoongi pats her head and stands back up. You take the machete from under her and wind back. You use both of your hands to crack into her skull downwards as hard as you can. After the first hit, her body slammed into itself and jerked against the force of the blade. Gurgles of blood spit from her mouth and a blood vessel in her eye burst from the impact. You lift it up, hitting her two more times until her body was completely limp and it felt as if the blade was hitting mush. Her blood is sprinkled over your arms and legs and a puddle is formed under the machete dripping to the ground.

“Damn, I forgot how tiring it is to do that,” You set down the machete to stretch out your arms. “You know, this is a nice place...” You take off both of your guys’ masks while he pulls you close and grips your ass tightly.

“I was thinking the same thing while you were dealing with her. Let’s find a bed before I bend you over this table,” He winks before you both split to see who finds the bedroom first. You, being the winner, call Yoongi over to join you. When he steps in the room, your bloody hands grip his shirt and pull him close to meet your lips. He groans into your mouth and bites your bottom lip as he pulls away. You fall back on the bed and squirm around from him looking at you. “God, look at you...” He slips out the dagger from your leg and lightly brushes it down your clothed body.

“That tickles,” you giggle and arch your back towards the blade. You spread your legs, helping the dress bunch at the top of your thighs. Yoongi pulls the dagger up to your throat, bringing a playful smile to your face.

“You are so sexy and all mine. Isn’t that right?” He continues to hold the dagger to one side of your neck while licking and sucking the other. You moan and stretch your neck to give him more access. “All mine,” He whispers between his wet kisses. You can feel how tight his jeans were getting between your legs, so you wrap your legs around him to pull him even closer. He growls and throws the dagger across the room. He pulls himself up and flips you around. He shoves the dress over your ass making it completely visible. “No underwear,” He breathes. He pulls his shirt off and kneels on the ground. His face now resting at your back entrance, you wiggle closer to him. The feeling of his hot breath so close to your already soaked pussy made you impatient. His tongue lightly traveled from your clit all the way to your ass. He took off his brass knuckles so he was able to spread you out to give him better view and access. His tongue pushed into your clit and flicked around. You screwed your eyes shut and curled your feet at the sudden pleasure. He smacked your ass, pushing a whine out from your lips. He flips you over to suck on your clit. You pull his face into you as much as you possibly can. He slips in two fingers under him to stimulate both areas at the same time. While he sucked and kissed, he curled his fingers and pulled them in and out quickly. Your thighs begin to tighten around his head and your eyes screw shut. The room is filled with your high pitched moans, but all of a sudden he stops. He leaves kisses around the inside of your thighs and you whimper at the loss of touch.

He begins to pull down his pants, so you scoot farther into the bed to give him space. His hard cock bounces out of his underwear before he crawls in front of you. He sits on his knees and jerks himself off while looking at your body ready for him.

“You’re so eager for me, baby. Just the sight of you makes me want to bust all over you right now,” He slides up between your legs. Face to face with the tip resting at your entrance. He grabs both of your legs and pushes them up next to you, giving him easy entrance. He guides his length into you and doesn’t hesitate to start thrusting with force. He looks down at you and rubs circles around your swollen clit. Your head snaps back and you scream his name. As a response he thrusts harder, smacking his hips to the backs of your thighs. “My pretty baby. Who would think you would be such a killer? Hmm?” He grunts at the feeling of your walls tightening around him. His breaths become heavy and his thrusts become shorter and quicker. You dig your nails into the back of his neck and pull him close. The feeling of the friction rubbing you every time he pulls himself into you makes your eyes roll back. “Let go, babygirl,” his breath hot next to your ear. Your moans become louder and your grip around him becomes tighter until you come undone on his cock. He goes back to his kneeling position and fucks you harder than ever before. He throws his head back and lets out a guttural moan before cumming inside of you. He pulls out and picks you up so you’re side is facing him. He smacks your ass, leaving a mark.

“I wish I could fuck you all night, but we have work to do,” he gets up to put his clothes back on. You follow his lead and place the dagger back into the little holster on your leg. When you both are dressed, you continue on your purge journey to hopefully run across Kayla.

Time was spent frolicking the streets with an occasional dead body and kicking people’s eyeballs around like rocks. Random body parts were detached and scattered around the pavement. It was magnificent. The amount of people that fulfilled their purge duties was inspiring. It wasn’t common to find homeless people in the small town you both lived in, but it happened every once in awhile. You and Yoongi were lucky enough to encounter one shaking on the side of the road, terrified and covered in blood. His eyes bulged out of his head and his pupils followed you both inch by inch. You guys follow his stare with your LED eyes while walking across him, giving him a little playful wave and a giggle. His gaze follows until you both find a grocery store with shattered windows and rummaged aisles. Yoongi races up and down the aisles with you in a shopping cart. Manic screaming and the sounds of crashing cans fill the store and the street. You both take swigs of hard liquor before completely smashing and shattering them on the floor. Yoongi made madness have beauty.

It wasn’t long after that when you both decided to go home and call it a night. There was no sign of Kayla around town and you guys decided to wait until next year if someone didn’t get to her before you.

“Let me check the back door to make sure it’s closed and if no one is back there. You cover up here,” He gives your arm a slight squeeze before you both split. You unlock the front door and hear the click sound of someone cocking a gun. You see shadows cascading across a feminine figure but can’t make out the face.

“Finally, I’ve been waiting all goddamn night.” Kayla. Her hand was shaking and her stance was wide to keep herself together. She was visibly nervous and you could tell even though it was dark in the room. You stay silent and don’t drop any of your weapons. You just stare and wait. “Well?! Are you going to just stand there and stare like the fucking freak you are?!” She uses her other arm to steady her aim.

“Says the one in the nurse costume,” You snort, unbothered. You knew Yoongi wouldn’t let anything happen to you, but even if something did, it’s just dying. Why be scared of something that’ll happen eventually?

“You’re really going to make fun of the person who has a gun pointed to you? Th-“ Her sentence is stopped short from Yoongi uppercutting under her chin with his spiked brass knuckles. Her jaw smacks closed so abruptly that her tongue is cut in half. The other half drops to the floor and blood instantly fills her mouth along with the hole under her mouth when Yoongi ripped his knuckles out. She desperately tried to hold the blood from spilling everywhere, only making a mess in her hands. The lack of tongue within her mouth made her trying to talk sound incomprehensible.

“What, cats got your tongue?” Yoongi throws her up against the wall. “Maybe it should’ve been when you wanted to go around spreading lies about me and talking shit about us.” He pushes his knuckles under her rib cage and pushes her up the wall. You wrap your arms around him from behind and rest your head on his shoulder to watch. Her limbs fidget and try to fight before loosely dangling and her head hanging down. The blood pours all over Yoongi’s body and he tears out his hand to let her body fall to the ground. He glides off the brass knuckles from his slimy hands and drops them on the floor. He turns to you and cups your face, not being shy to brush your cheeks with his bloody thumbs. You lean into his touch and a grimace creeps onto both of your faces.

“Happy Purge,” He says before kissing your nose. You wrap your arms around his shoulders to deepen the kiss. It was a successful purge night. You both released yourselves and were happy and ready to start work tomorrow morning with no problems.

#bangtan seonyeondan #bts #bts smut #bts fluff #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts imagines #min yoongi #yoongi #suga #jeon jungkook #jungkook #min yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader

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hakkais-hoe · 2 years

Note

I want a bimbo reader x tenjiku fluff where the reader is just adorably stupid yet somewhat makes everyone love them :) idk why I'm so into bimbo nowadays💀

um yes those men would obsess over a little bimbo reader even platonically!! n who tf doesn't love a bimbo

So bimbo!r is more cute and stupid in this rather than overly seductive, ofc she still likes her tiny skirts n very cleavage showin tops 😩

age warning:16+

warnings: female reader!! pure sweet fluff, lots of bimbo use, slightly dumb n oblievious reader, simping men, swearing, poly, separate how they feel scenarios, reader sits and decorates their hair with random clips and bobbles, boobs are mentioned a lot!, light mentions of violence n fighting.

Characters: Izana, Haitani's, Mucho, Kakucho, Shion.

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Look as a whole they absolutely adore their little bimbo to the point of obsession

Izana is pretty subtle about it until he hears someone saying shit about you then he goes full blown feral

Ran litterally fawns over you 24/7, kinda eggs on the dumb part of you so he can baby you

Rindou is kind of like a feral guard dog, will stand over your shoulder and shout at anyone who bothers you

Kaku is so sweet about it, will explain things to you or just simply spoil you rotten with affection

Mucho is pretty silent still, really likes when you wear pretty clothes and flaunt them to him. Also buys you lost of outfits. Lives for when you plonk yourself down in his lap mindlessly

Shion and you are literally the same. He’s just as much of a bimbo but he’s a loud dumb blonde bimbo. Needs things explaining to him too

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—

“Zana! Kaku! Look what me an Shi got!!” Your bubbly loud voice has all of your other partners turning to glance at the two loud bubbly bimbos practically skipping their way. Proud looks are plastered on the two of yous faces, on your right is your dumb blond boyfriend holding up two matching shopping bags.

Grins and knowing smiles form on the other five men’s faces, Ran elbows Mucho and tilts his head in the direction of two men that followed the two of you in, taking note of the two. Instead of saying anything they turn back to the two of you to see what is in the two bags.

“Okay, okay what ya got pretties? Is it food? I’m starving now.” Ran hums waltzing forwards to meet the rest of the group at the place Izana and Kakucho are stood.

“Noooo babyyyy don’t guess just wait for yous to show you~” You coo wrapping your arms around Muchos neck to hang off the hulking figure. He effortlessly supports your weight with one arm while he ruffles Shions messsy hair with the other. Shion sports a sweet smile before he grins back at the bags cockily looking back at you.

When everyone is stood around the bags you and Shion move to open them. Bright silly grins rest on your faces.

“C’mon love just show us! Rans made me fuckin hungry now… dickhead.” Rindou grumbles from the corner before smacking his brother in the head grumpily. You pout at the impatient men before pulling out the new mochi and random assortment of hair ties and fun clips/accessories you found.

“Lookkkkk!!! How cute are these!? We wanna sit nd do everyone’s hair so you look cute!!” You’re ditzy glee filled grin sends all of them reeling into simp central.

“That’s not food… we should order food while they do our hair…” Rindou mutters already taking a seat before yoru seating hands, his head resting just below the swell of your tits.

“Heyyy! No fair I wanted y/n to do mine first it’ll take the longest!” Ran protests in a loud whine already trying to move his brother and failing, instead he settles for resting his chin on your shoulder where he can easily sneak glances at the bright pink bra you have poking out of the plunge neckline shirt.

Grumbles and complaints are thrown from the others before they set about either letting Shion do their hair or going out to get food for the others.

•————————•—————————•

Izana

Wholeheartedly adores when you do stupid shit like this

Will never show it tho

Sits facing you when you get around to his hair

Shamelessly rests his head between your tits without a warning

Will kill anyone who upsets you :)

Gets pissed off when anyone other than the other 5 look at you too long

Loves your scent

Acts unbothered by everting cute that you do or your random stupid questions but inside he’s like dying n screaming

Kakucho

Very patient and acts like a gentleman

Doesn’t stick his head in ya cleavage like most of the others

Blushes n sweats like a sinner in church when you’re boobs bounce in his eyeline

Scary dog privilege when he’s around

Once out a guy in hospital for catcalling you

Always walks you places because you somehow always attract the wrong attention

Answers your dumb questions honestly even if it’s a really obvious answer

Is flushed every time he catches a glimpse of ur underwear or bra

Mucho

Openly dotes on you

Best believe it was his money you and shion spent on those clips

Let’s you stick one or two in his hair

Insists on you standing between his legs throughout

Holds your waist so gently

Rich boy spends so much money on you and loves it

You saw a cute tiny dress in a window, it’s wrapped in a pretty box with a bow just waiting for you a day later

Glares at people over your shoulder

Violent intent 24/7

Very calm about everything apart form you

Can and will snap anyone’s bones when they comment on your clothes

Spoils you rotten like any thing you want it’s yours

Shion

Look this bitch is 100% a bimbo too

He’s like a male carbon copy of you in the way he acts only he’s highly aggressive

Like a chihuahua

Helps with everyone’s hair then sits bouncing in his chair so you can do his

Another guy that rests his head on your tits

Tends to bite tho

Adores you so much, likes to brag about how pretty his baby is

Probably tries to fight anyone who even glances your way even if they weren’t looking at you

Likes to play with your hair too

Ran

Menace to society ♡

Best believe if you plan to touch his beloved hair you better be prepared for him to use you as a pillow

Makes you sit on a couch so he can lay on your lap so he can sleep while you do his hair

Loves the feeling of sleeping on your thighs

Falls asleep so fast if you massage his head or gently brush your fingers through his hair

You hen to re braid it after tho

Wants all of your attention if he’s on your lap

Can and will gaslight anyone who speaks to you

Whips his batton out at the slightest inconvenience

Only lets you and rin touch his hair

Absolutely indulges in your oblivious and slightly dumb questions

Teases you to no end till your pouting and tearing up before he brakes and apologises

Could not live without you now

Rindou

10000% tsundere

Acts like he kind of doesn’t like you but is the first to go along with your weird things

Either acts like he doesn’t care or acts tired 24/7

When he’s tired he’ll just go along with it anyway without a word

Another scary dog privilege but only cos he’s a bit feral

Acts really cold untill you utter anything about being insulted or upset then he’s worried af

Will hunt down anyone who upset you and dislocate all their limbs violently

Gets sweeter the longer your there

Enjoys just holding your hand and playing with your fingers or acrylic nails

Dies for the way false/acrylic nails feel against his scalp

All in all these men are all the “wear what you want I can fight” type of boyfriends ♡

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Not sure how I feel bout this one but it is what it is :|

Taglist: @coldcoffeeholic @honeybachira @loonashadow @reiners-milkbiddies @sunahyejin @soushswag @bontensbabygirl @wakasagurl @haitink

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honeyedhoseok · 6 years

Text

What Am I To You? |02|

genre: angst // slight smut

word count: 6.6K

summary: Two years later, Namjoon is still trying to pick up the pieces of himself that you shattered with your sudden departure. With everyone pressuring him to get “closure”, he caves after a chance meeting with you at a coffee shop.

a/n: hey, so after not updating this in a year an a half, here’s another part to WAITY. i thought that i would just write the second part out in one gigantic final chapter, but it will now be a multi-chaptered fic so i feel less pressured. enjoy!

|01|

Namjoon looked up from the swirling contents in the glass in his hand, catching the eye of his roommate Seokjin, who was coming back from the bar with a beer clutched tightly in one hand and a cosmopolitan in the other.

“Tiffany should be here in a minute,” he explained, sliding into the booth across from Namjoon and sitting the fruity drink beside him. He leaned back, taking a sip of his beer and looking out at the crowd of people dancing to the pulsating rhythm of the music that was blasting from all corners of the club.

“She finally agreed to come out, huh?” Namjoon teased, chuckling at the way Seokjin’s eyes narrowed immediately at his comment.

“Shut up,” Seojkin laughed. “I actually asked her to bring her single friend with her, but I guess if you wanna be like that—“

Namjoon groaned. “Oh come on. Not this—are you really trying to set me up with someone again?”

“I believe it’s time for you to venture back out into the world of dating, my friend.”

“Don’t start.”

While Namjoon knew the good in Seokjin’s intentions, he just didn’t understand that Namjoon wasn’t interested in girls much after what had happened. Relationships just didn’t seem worth it anymore to him. Besides, he really didn’t have time—he was getting into the harder stages of his majors’ coursework, and was spending more time in library than he was in his shared apartment with Seokjin under the weight of his never-ending string of assignments.

“Just try to get to know her tonight! What can it hurt? And then if you don’t like her, you probably won’t ever have to see her again,” Seokjin offered, raising his eyebrows in questioning at his friend as he waited for an answer.

“Fine—okay? Fine,” Namjoon complied, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the smile that bloomed across Seokjin’s face.

“Good, because here they come.”

Namjoon looked up to see Tiffany making her way towards the booth, her usual semi-sour expression adorning her face as she took in the looks of the place around her. Her friend followed in tow, a more pleasant look that graced her features and made Namjoon relax. If Tiffany’s friend was anything like herself in personality, Namjoon was going to be miserable all night—he didn’t see how Seokjin put up with her for so long with her endless list of complaints and constant dissatisfied attitude.

“Seokjin, I thought you said this place was nice?” Tiffany whined, sliding into the booth beside him and throwing her purse into his lap. “You should have come to where we were instead.”

By the way her lids were slightly drooped, Namjoon could tell she’d had a few drinks before agreeing to meet. Seokjin cleared his throat at Namjoon, his eyes flickering to Tiffany’s friend who was still standing up beside the booth on Namjoon’s side. He jumped into action, immediately apologizing and sliding over so that she could join him. “Sorry about that. I’m Namjoon, by the way.”

“This is Eunji,” Tiffany quickly chimed in, her words slurring a little as she talked. “Isn’t she pretty, Joonie?”

Namjoon’s eyes flickered nervously to Tiffany at the mention of his nickname, but he nodded nonetheless, gracing Eunji with a small smile that she returned. Upon everyone getting seated, Tiffany immediately launched into a dramatic story, capturing Seokjin’s undivided attention and leaving Namjoon and Eunji to either listen intently or talk about something amongst themselves.

Namjoon chose the second option, definitely not interested in Tiffany’s gossip—he didn’t understand how Seokjin put up with that, either—and turned to Eunji. “So, are you in school?”

“I am, I’m a digital arts major,” she smiled, tilting her head in interest at Namjoon. “What about you?”

“Chemistry,” he answered. “What year?”

“I’m a sophomore. You’re in your third, right? Tiffany mentioned that.”

Namjoon nodded, taking a small sip of his drink. He studied Eunji’s face as she talked, taking in the delicate features, the wisps of hair that fell into her view that she constantly tucked behind her small ears as she talked, the redness of her lips. She definitely wasn’t a bad looking girl, and Namjoon found himself leaning closer to her as she talked, trying to hear her over the pounding music of the club.

“How do you and Tiffany know each other?”

At this question, Eunji’s eyebrows lifted. “Oh, Tiffany? We’re in the same major.”

Seokjin picked up on this comment, stopping Tiffany’s rant about why she’d picked to wear heels instead of wedges tonight and exclaiming, “Wait, you changed your major again?”

“Seokjinnie,” she whined immediately in return, jutting out her lower lip to him as she leaned closer. “Don’t you want me to find something I like and be happy?”

Before Seokjin could answer, Namjoon butted in, furrowing his eyebrows at her. “If it’s beneficial, sure. But you’re in your third year and still don’t know what you want to do. Don’t you think you should stick to something before it’s too late?”

Seokjin shot Namjoon a look across the table that he ignored. He knew of Namjoon’s dislike for Tiffany but for some reason he hated it whenever he tried to talk some sense into her. “It’s not worth it man, she doesn’t listen to anyone,” he’d say, waving the subject off as if it didn’t matter a bit to him.

“Why is it any of your business?”

“I’m just curious is all. You’ve got to get it together someday, you know,” Namjoon said casually, taking another sip of his drink as he watched Tiffany’s already flushed face burn darker with embarrassment. He wasn’t normally this harsh with her, but her presence was especially annoying to him tonight, and he couldn’t stop the biting remarks rolling off of his tongue.

“Why are you always fucking downing me?” Tiffany demanded, narrowing her eyes at Namjoon. “Sorry everyone didn’t have a plan as soon as they started high school about exactly what they wanted to do with their lives.”

Namjoon started to reply with a sarcastic remark of his own but Tiffany was already scooting out of the booth, snatching her purse away from Seokjin’s leg and slinging it over her shoulder as she sneered her final blow, “Sorry that you’re dead inside while some of us are still living.”

“Why don’t we go get a drink, Tiffany?” Eunji interjected, chuckling nervously and sliding out of the booth quickly after her. She murmured an apology to Namjoon before grabbing Tiffany’s arm and linking it with her own. “I think you could use one right now, yeah?”

The two girls walked away and Seokjin turned his annoyed expression back on Namjoon as soon as they were out of earshot. “Why?”

“Don’t why me!” Namjoon shook his head, pursing his lips. “Why are you entertaining that bimbo, Seokjin? She has no future, no plans, no path, no hope—hell, I can’t believe she even made it this far in college—“

“You know why I don’t care about her future, Namjoon?” Seokjin interrupted, placing his hand on the table forcefully, “Because it doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Namjoon echoed in disbelief. “You’re kidding, right?”

“It doesn’t matter because we don’t have a future together. Everything about our relationship is as temporary as Tiffany’s digital arts major—you think I spend my time thinking about what Tiffany and I are gonna do after college? I graduate in eight months, Namjoon. I’m just having fun.”

Namjoon shook his head at the explanation, dismissing it because he knew what was coming next before Seokjin could say it.

“You haven’t been the same since her, man, and we both know it.”

“Don’t—“ Namjoon started but Seokjin placed his hands defensively in front of him, holding up a finger. “Just hear me out! It’s okay to let go sometimes, you know? You don’t have to be so uptight about girls—not all of them are gonna break your heart. If you don’t let yourself get attached, there’s nothing to break.”

“Why does everything turn into a talk about her?”

“Because she’s the reason you are like this!” Seokjin exclaimed. “I remember what you were like in high school, Namjoon, and it was far, far different from how you are now. Why are you still holding on to that?”

“I’m not holding on to anything,” Namjoon spat, but his gaze avoided Seokjin’s. “I don’t do things just for fun, and I never have. She has nothing to do with that.”

“Yeah? Well maybe you should. Maybe it would be good for you to let go, just once,” Seokjin said, shrugging and finishing off his beer. “Being like this isn’t getting you anywhere—can you honestly say you’ve had fun in college?”

Namjoon shrugged, but by the way he avoided his friend’s eyes, they both knew he’d struck a chord. Nothing else was said between the two as Tiffany came back to the table, her eyes glazed with the amount of shots she’d taken that night as she reached for Seokjin’s hand. “Come dance with me!”

Seokjin slid out of the booth easily, placing both hands on Tiffany’s waist and looking back at Namjoon expectantly before his eyes flickered to Eunji’s as if to say do something.

“Fine,” he grumbled to himself, but Seokjin saw the word form on his lips nonetheless. “Let’s dance, Eunji.”

Just one dance, he thought to himself as he grabbed Eunji’s small hand in his own, leading her behind him as he followed Seokjin and Tiffany onto the floor, I’ll dance with her to get Seokjin off my back and then I’m going home.

But one dance turned into two, two turned into three, and miraculously thanks to Seokjin, Namjoon found himself downing more drinks throughout the night, too. Eunji was much more exciting once she got used to being around Namjoon—her voice full of laughter as she turned around to wrap her hands around Namjoon’s neck, yelling something about her feet being tired from all the dancing.

Namjoon nodded, pulling her hand to take her back to the booth they were seated at before. As he was making his way through the crowds of people packed into such a small space, he looked up, happening to lock eyes with someone across the room on accident. The breath disappeared from his lungs immediately.

It was a sick fate to see you at one of the many nightclubs in the city on this certain night, but good luck had never really tended to play out in Namjoon’s favor.

The thing that made his chest hurt, made it feel like the blood in his veins was running cold, made it feel as if time was standing still for just a few seconds, was the arm that was slung around your waist, the face of the man beside you that had his body pressed against you so that anyone and everyone in the club would know you were his. The sight had Namjoon stopping his tracks for a moment, making Eunji bump into his back at the sudden stillness and letting out a oof behind him.

Your connected gazes were broken just as soon as they’d begun as you turned around, wrapping a hand around the guy’s neck to bring his tall frame down to your level so that you could speak into his ear. Namjoon didn’t give himself time to be hurt even more by the gesture, turning around to Eunji and murmuring to her about getting out of there instead of going to sit down. His heart was beating dangerously fast in his chest, and he hoped that the shakiness in his voice would be covered up by the pounding beats still coming through the club’s sound system.

As soon as she agreed, Namjoon was heading towards the club entrance—away from you, away from the hurt that he knew was hidden deep down inside, but threatened to bubble to the surface with each moment he spent thinking about the images of you in his head.

He distracted himself with Eunji’s lips in the back of the taxi, shoving his tongue mercilessly into her mouth, exploring every inch of it while his hands left fiery hot trails up her legs and between her thighs. She giggled, the sound a soft exhale as she pushed Namjoon’s eager hands away and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, murmuring against them, “Let’s wait until we get there.”

Thankfully the car ride didn’t last much longer after that, and Namjoon was slapping some bills into the hand of the taxi driver before helping Eunji out and onto the sidewalk while he fumbled in his pockets for the keys to his apartment. Without bothering to turn the lights on, he pulled Eunji to him after opening the door, locking his lips with hers hungrily and slamming the door shut only to walk her backwards into his room.

His body hovered over hers on the mattress as she let herself sink into it, shoving off Namjoon’s jacket and working quickly on the belt that kept his black skinny jeans situated at his waist. Namjoon went to work on Eunji’s neck, sucking purple that blossomed on her skin like violas as his hand traveled to situate itself in her hair, moving her head this way and that so that he could get better access.

Namjoon wasn’t sure what he was thinking—he definitely didn’t go to the club planning to get anyone tonight—this wasn’t him and he wanted to pretend he didn’t know where the sudden urge to rip Eunji’s clothes off and feel her underneath him was coming from. But he couldn’t.

Seeing you at the club around someone else, even after all this time, was devastating to him. He’d thought you’d moved away to go to school, so what were you doing in a bar in his college town? Why did he have to see you? What had you been doing during those years while he was trying to get you out of his memories—were you living life like normal with no remembrance, or were your times together sitting deep in your chest and eating away at you like they were Namjoon?

The questions were overflowing his brain so he tried to push them away, focusing on pulling Eunji’s shirt over her head after she had ridded him of his pants so that he could kick them off behind him.

Seokjin was right—he needed this.

He needed to remember what it was like to touch someone, to dominate them if even for a moment, to get momentary satisfaction from being with another person. Namjoon felt nothing for Eunji besides his need for her body, and although the thought of that threatened to make guilt overtake him, he pushed that down, too.

Clothes were shed one after another until bare skin was against bare skin, rubbing, touching, sliding against one another until finally, they were connected.

Drunken sighs and moans filled Namjoon’s bedroom along with the creaking of his mattress and bedframe—a cacophony of noises that were unnatural to the walls of the room that Namjoon spent so much time in alone. He dotted kisses against Eunji’s shoulders and neck as he thrusted, an act that would have seemed affectionate in any other situation, but coming from Namjoon in that moment, it was far, far from that.

Eunji knew this too, because as the two laid beside each other in the dark in the aftermath of what had just happened, she felt the cold, stiffness of Namjoon’s demeanor—the way he moved away from her immediately afterwards, the space he left between them in the mattress in the least subtle way possible, the way he turned over on his side so he wouldn’t have to look at her face—it was all too obvious. She wasn’t stupid, and she knew for certain that Namjoon wasn’t either after what Tiffany had told her about him before they went to the bar. She knew there was nothing between them, but it didn’t stop it from hurting.

“You don’t have to be that way, you know,” she murmured into the dark. “I didn’t make you sleep with me.”

Namjoon stayed quiet, breathing in and out a few breaths before he decided to answer. “Sorry.”

The answer didn’t satisfy Eunji in the least bit, and instead made her angry if she wasn’t already before. Namjoon knew that his voice coated the word with no meaning, but he couldn’t say it any other way. After seeing you tonight and deciding on a whim to take Eunji home, he was emotionless once again. He’d used up all he had for the day.

“It’s because of her, isn’t it?”

The air in the room seemed to stop flowing, the darkness that was usually comforting to him seemed to sweep in on Namjoon at Eunji’s words, trying to smother him and keep him from ever surfacing. He hated Eunji for bringing you up, hated her for even knowing who you were, hated Tiffany for ever talking about his past with people who never even deserved to know a single thing about him—

“It’s because of her that you feel like this, right? I’m not Y/N, so I’m not good enough for you.” Eunji’s voice came out with a sad softness to it, but it didn’t comfort Namjoon in the least. He breathed out a harsh breath before launching himself up and off the bed, snatching up his clothes and pulling them on before he grabbed a pillow from beside Eunji’s shocked figure.

“Namjoon, wait, I’m sorry—“

“How dare you bring her up,” Namjoon snapped, the venom in his voice making Eunji flinch but he couldn’t control it, couldn’t reign in the anger that was overwhelming him. All anyone ever wanted to talk about was you, you, you—couldn’t they see that was the last thing Namjoon wanted to talk about in the world with anyone else? He could barely stand thinking about you to himself, much less talking about you to a stranger.

“I’m sleeping in the living room. You can stay here until you decide to go home. Goodnight.”

He didn’t give her time to say anything else before he walked out, shutting his bedroom door hard behind him and leaving Eunji in the darkness. He didn’t care that his actions might have hurt her feelings at this point because he was hurt, too.

He felt overwhelmed, like his breathing was coming out too fast for his lungs to catch the movements, too fast to keep up and fill his empty, aching chest at the thought that other people could see right through him.

How many people knew how he felt about you, after all these years?

How many people had talked behind his back about it, felt sympathetic to him, watched him sadly because they felt like he was a poor, tragic soul suffering from unrequited love?

The thoughts were maddening to Namjoon, making him grab his blanket with both fists, yanking it over his head and leaving him lying in the darkness on the living room couch. He couldn’t do this again—not tonight. He didn’t want to lie awake thinking of you right now, he wanted all the thoughts in his head to disappear and leave him with silence. Enough silence to lull him into a deep sleep.

When he woke up the next morning, Eunji was gone. He hadn’t heard her leave, and he was thankful she hadn’t woken him up in the process—it would have been an awkward and unpleasant goodbye.

Seokjin was back, making noises in the kitchen as he shuffled pots and pans around for breakfast. When Namjoon yawned loudly, he peeked his head around the corner, disappointment coating his tone as he asked, “Did you really have to yell at her?”

Namjoon scoffed, flipping him the bird as he gathered his blanket and pillow from the couch and put them back on the bed in his room. Faint traces of Eunji’s perfume and the sight of the ruffled sheets from the night before had him closing the door as quickly as he could, returning to the kitchen and leaving his thoughts behind. Seokjin wasn’t ready to let the matter go, though, and immediately brought it back up as soon as Namjoon sat down at the table.

“Tell me what happened, because I have Tiffany ready to rip you into pieces this morning,” Seokjin said, sliding a mug of coffee in front of Namjoon’s weary face before sitting across from him. He sipped at his own mug, eyes flickering back and forth to the frying pan that was sizzling on the stove.

“I don’t know,” Namjoon replied blandly, avoiding Seokjin’s eyes and looking down into the dark liquid that filled the cup before him. He could see his reflection in its murky surface, his face and eyes looking just as tired and droopy as he felt inside. He wasn’t getting much sleep these days—both factors of overthinking and late nights with Seokjin—and it was really starting to wear on his appearance. It made him feel worse to look up into the face of his roommate, full of similar lines of worry over his friend he didn’t even know where to begin to make feel better.

Namjoon knew he needed to stop thinking about you. But he couldn’t—especially not after he’d seen you so close after so long, yet so far away and into the arms of another man. What were you thinking last night? Did you even notice him, or was he stretching the thought that maybe for just a moment in time, your eyes had grazed his, full of surprise and wonderment at seeing him, before you turned around like nothing happened.

“Don’t give me that shit, Namjoon,” Seokjin sighed, getting up to go tend to his food. Namjoon hadn’t realized how long the silence had stretched over the table with Seokjin just waiting for him to continue and maybe tell him more. “I know I told you to loosen up, but you did it the wrong way, man.”

“Oh, so there’s a right way?” Namjoon scoffed in between sips. “Well my fucking bad.”

“Yes, there is a right way. One step towards that would have been not kicking her out of the house. Another step would have been to not make her sleep by herself.”

“Whoa, I didn’t kick her out!” Namjoon exclaimed, his eyes widening. “She let herself out.”

Seokjin paused in cooking his eggs, turning a side gaze to Namjoon. “Okay, so maybe Tiffany exaggerated a little.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes. “And Eunji wouldn’t have slept by herself if she didn’t mention her.”

“Her?” Seokjin prompted, but he already knew the answer. Namjoon never said your name out loud.

“Yeah. She. Her. It,” Namjoon spat, feeling his anger rising. “Eunji shouldn’t have brought any of that up. It’s none of her business, first of all, and even if it might have something to do with why I’m like this, she doesn’t have to fucking bring it up after we just had—“

Namjoon paused mid-sentence, realizing that he was talking too quickly, his breath coming out faster as talking about you built up inside of him, the wave about to crash too fast over him and make him unable to breathe whatsoever.

Seokjin said nothing of what was happening, always cautious of pushing his friend too far, and slid some eggs onto a plate before sitting them down in front of Namjoon. He’d just confessed without realizing it, but Seokjin wouldn’t dare point that out right now. “Okay, you’re right.”

“I’m right?” Namjoon blinked, the hard lines on his face softening.

“Yeah, you’re right, man. She shouldn’t have brought it up, especially not at that point. I understand that it’s hard for you.”

Namjoon raised an eyebrow, wondering what could have possibly caused Seokjin to suddenly back down but he didn’t question it, falling into their normal comfortable silence as they continued to eat their breakfast.

The beginning of the semester brought along its own trials and tribulations, leaving Namjoon under a flurry of stress from his classes. He was finding it hard to get adjusted to his tougher schedule this year, and for the first month or so he barely left the apartment with Seokjin for fear of getting behind on assignments.

Seokjin didn’t try to set him up with another one of Tiffany’s friends, and Eunji never called him up again—which he was mildly thankful for. Though he felt he should apologize to her, he also felt righted in the fact that his explosion only happened because of what she said.

Namjoon studied hard, watching from the library windows as the green leaves blowing on the trees slowly turned darker until they were crunchy, falling off to litter the ground below. Life was passing him by as he continued to be stuck on you. He knew this, but he couldn’t bring himself out of the rut he was in, nor did he want to at that point. He just wanted to go to school and be left alone—but life was never that fair, and Namjoon knew that more than he would have liked to admit.

The next time Namjoon sees you it’s in a café right outside the school campus. He was ordering his usual—a chai latte, hot—when a familiar jacket caught his eye and made him pause in swiping his card for the cashier. You’re sitting alone, flipping through a magazine as you sip casually from your drink, the sun shining in from the café window throwing golden beams down onto your hair and encasing you in light.

The cashier cleared his throat in annoyance, bringing Namjoon back to reality and making him mumble an apology, embarrassed, before he finished paying and took his ticket to wait for his drink. He threw multiple glances at you as he waited in line, bringing his phone out of his pocket in order to make his blatant staring somewhat less obvious. He was nervous—what would he do if you looked up at him, noticed him? Would he say hello—is that what exes did when meeting after a long while? Would you even want him to say hello to you?

His head was swimming with questions—so much that the barista had to call his name three times before he heard her—handing him his coffee over the counter with a tight-lipped smile before handing him a drink cozy to shield his fingers from the scalding liquid as he held it.

He shoved his phone in his pocket, picking up his drink and heading for the door with his head ducked, but it was to no avail.

“Namjoon?”

He froze, a few steps from the door, slowly swinging his gaze over to where you were sitting, still basked in sunlight like God himself was trying to keep you warm on such a wintry day. His heart beat a mile a minute in his chest, his eyes racking over your face, retracing all the planes that he’d memorized years before. They’d aged, matured, but they were still the same, despite how much he wished they weren’t so it didn’t remind him of so much with just a single glance in your direction.

“Do you—um—are you—“

“I was just—“

You both interrupt each other and an embarrassed smile settles over your face, one that made Namjoon’s insides turn. He wanted desperately to get out of the little café—to crawl, walk, run, fly, whatever could get him out of there fastest—away from this moment he was so not prepared for.

You cleared your throat, trying once more. “Do you want to sit?”

His mouth seemed filled with glue as he choked out an affirmation, stiffly walking over to the table and taking a seat in front of you. An awkward silence filled the table for a few moments, until Namjoon realized he should say something, anything, that would let you know that he hadn’t developed into a mute over the years.

“What are you—uh—what are you reading?” he asked, focusing on the magazine in your hands rather than your eyes.

“It’s an art magazine my college puts out. I was interviewed for a piece on next month’s theatre production, so I was just seeing how it turned out.”

“Oh, are you starring in the play or something?”

“I wrote it,” you replied, beaming. Namjoon couldn’t stop the smile that settled over his face at the news as well, surprised that you’d followed through with going to school for something you were passionate about, despite the fact that your father was so adamant about you doing something better with your time.

“How have you been?”

“I’ve been—“ Namjoon stopped himself, unsure of how to answer the question. How had he been? Truthfully, during the years that had followed and at the moment, life had been hell. He didn’t sleep. He didn’t feel. He didn’t want to be around anyone. Even though it had been two years, he still wasn’t okay inside and he wasn’t sure if he was ever going to be—

Your phone cut off his inner monologue, and you smiled awkwardly, about to silence it but Namjoon motioned for you to go ahead and take it. He took a long sip of his drink, relishing in the way it scalded his mouth and throat, hopefully incinerating all the dumb things he could possibly say along with it.

“Hello? Yeah, I was just getting a coffee at the shop…Oh, you’re nearby? No, that’s okay, I’ll come meet you instead, don’t come here—okay, bye.”

Namjoon was already gathering his things in his hands, straightening his jacket and standing up. You obviously had better things to be doing, so there was no need to take up any more of your time.

“Sorry, my friend is—“

“Its fine,” Namjoon said coldly, avoiding your eyes. “I have somewhere to be. I’ll see you around.”

He was out of the door in no time, hearing the bell jingle behind him as it shut. Namjoon felt like he could finally breathe once he was out of that suffocatingly-warm café, taking in a few deep inhales and exhales of the wintry air that brought him back to his senses. He started the walk back to his apartment before he heard another jingle of the bell, followed by hurried footsteps.

“Namjoon, wait—“ you called out, and he turned around, taking in your flustered face and appearance, having thrown your bag over your shoulder and grabbed your drink in a hurry in order to catch him before he got too far. “I’m—god, I don’t even know what to say to you. I’m just—I’m so—”

You were speechless? Namjoon could think of a thousand things to say to you.

“Namjoon,” you tried again, “I’m really sor—"

“Please, don’t,” he said, holding up a hand. It was the dreaded words he was scared of hearing about to come out of your mouth and he couldn’t handle it, not right now. He wanted an apology from you days, months, years, ago—not now. “Don’t say that to me.”

You bit your lip, nodding and lowering your eyes. “Okay, I won’t. But I don’t—this isn’t how I wanted this to go. I didn’t expect to see you today. I always have so much to say but I’m somehow speechless around you. I just—“

You were tumbling over your words, and it filled Namjoon with an odd sense of satisfaction to see you squirm in his presence.

“I want to talk—if that’s okay with you. Whenever you feel like it, and if you don’t, that’s okay too, I’m completely understand—“

Namjoon felt cold, and it wasn’t just from the wind that was whipping past his ears, chaffing his cheeks and making his eyes water. He’d thought that all this time, he would be a stuttering, sputtering mess when he saw you, or that he would have so much to say and get off his chest he would just go off on a rant, but it was all the opposite of that. He had nothing to say to you at the moment. He was empty.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” he said simply. “Like I said, I’ll see you around, okay?”

And with a turn of his heel he was off in the direction of his apartment, a lump building bigger and bigger in his throat with each step he took away from you.

“You saw her? And you said no?” Seokjin asked in disbelief, his eyes wide. “Are you serious? Dude, who are you?”

Namjoon grunted a response, turning his eyes back to his notes as he leaned over his bowl of cereal. He knew he probably shouldn’t haven mentioned his run-in with you to Seokjin, but he wanted to tell someone. If he was being honest, he was surprised at his own actions, as well.

“Are you sure this is what you want?”

Namjoon’s head snapped up, looking at his roommate with scrutinizing eyes. “What?”

Seokjin scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, leaning against the counter. “I don’t know—I’m just thinking—“

“That’s always dangerous,” Namjoon muttered.

“Shut up. I’m just saying. What if, maybe, you need a little—closure?”

Namjoon caught himself before he flinched at the word. Closure meant the end. Closure meant tying everything up in a neat little bow and putting it away in the back of his mind. Closure meant he was over everything that happened between you two and that he was ready to move on. None of that was what he wanted in the slightest.

“Really? The word closure is coming from the same mouth that has been telling me for god knows how long to move on, forget about it and get back out there, hang out with other girls!” Namjoon fought hard to keep his tone from giving away how irritated he was. “A little hypocritical, don’t you think?”

Seokjin sat down in front of him at the table, clasping his hands together pleadingly. “Listen, I just want what’s best for you. And at this point, after all this time, what’s best for you might be talking to her.” Namjoon scoffed again and Seokjin gave him a pointed look. “I think that maybe I was wrong. You aren’t the type to put things in the back of that big ass head of yours and forget about it. They’re always at the front, and that’s why your forehead is so fucking massive instead.”

Namjoon lunged at Seokjin across the table, nearly knocking over his cereal bowl in the process of trying to wrap his hands around his friend’s neck.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Seokjin said, dancing out of his way and scurrying over to the refrigerator where he deemed it was safe from Namjoon’s grasp. He leaned against the surface, crossing his arms in the way he always did when he was trying to get his point across. “Think about it.”

“I’m so tired of thinking!” Namjoon groaned, grabbing his bowl and rinsing it out in the sink. “I don’t want to anymore. I’m going to take a nap.”

“While you’re dreaming, keep in mind what I said!” Seokjin called at his back. Namjoon rolled his eyes as he shut the door to his bedroom, flopping onto his bed with a groan. He buried his face in his pillows, the cotton case blocking the air from his nostrils for a few moments. He let it, let his air cut off just until he felt uncomfortable, his restricted lungs burning a little from the lack of oxygen intake.

He realized this was how he felt earlier today when he saw you, that what he was experiencing right now was all-too familiar to him. He rolled over with a huff, taking in a few deep breaths to calm his racing heart.

He didn’t want to see you today.

He wasn’t ready, no matter how much he’d contemplated over the years about what he would do if he saw you again, it didn’t matter once you stepped into his line of eyesight. Everything that he was capable of saying was replaced but an inextinguishable anger that bubbled up in his chest and made him unable to take solid breaths.

Despite all of this, despite the angry unbelievable things he wanted to scream at your face when he saw you—he couldn’t help but think about how you looked with the sun shining on your hair and face. How beautiful you’d gotten over the years. How much you still looked like yourself, but also looked like a mature woman now. How much he wished that things between you two weren’t so rocky.

He couldn’t forget, but perhaps over time, he might be able to forgive you for what you’d done. He needed answers, but only when he was ready to hear them.

If he could forgive you, maybe you two could go back to at least being friends. And that was much better than whatever you were now.

Namjoon jumped out of his bed in a rush, flinging the door open to his room as he marched into the kitchen where Seokjin stood stirring the contents of a pot on the stove. He jumped when Namjoon rounded the corner on him in a hurry, clutching at his heart in anguish. “Ah, really! You scared the shit out of me!”

“I’ll talk to her.”

Seokjin’s eyebrows raised in shock but his mouth twitched in amusement. Namjoon knew that he knew that Namjoon was ultimately going to decide to speak to you, but quite frankly, he didn’t give a shit at the moment.

“That was a quick decision.”

Namjoon waved him off, his chest heaving a little from the excited breaths he was taking. “I know. But I figured…there’s a lot I have to say. And the only way to say it, possibly, is to—”

“—talk to her?” Seokjin finished, crossing his arms in triumph. “Well, no shit.”

“Yeah—yeah,” Namjoon was at a loss for words for a moment as he struggled to come to terms with what he was saying. “H-how am I gonna get in contact with her?”

“Didn’t you say you saw her at that coffee shop? Go there again.”

“Yeah…” Namjoon trailed off, lost in thought. “Yeah, good idea.”

Seokjin turned back to his pot on the stove as Namjoon stood for a few more minutes in the kitchen, thinking about made-up future encounters with you in his head—and what he would wear, what he would say, what you would look like. Because Seokjin’s back was to Namjoon, he couldn’t see the satisfied smile that curve his mouth, tilting the corners up in happiness at his long-time friend taking the first steps to recovery.

Seokjin just hoped that for once in your life, you would shut up and let Namjoon do more of the talking. He had two years’ worth of things to say to you, and it was your turn to sit back and listen.

#namjoon x reader #namjoon scenario #bts x reader #helloblamebts #namjoon angst #kim namjoon #bts rap monster #bts rm #bts rm scenario #what am i to you

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