#there was a year long gap between writing these and producing them but still-
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Mic Check, Please! track #8: "it started here"
After 10 months (oops), the FINAL track is here!! Fun fact, this was actually the first song I wrote for this back in 2020, before I planned on writing any other ones. It was also the first full song I had written in at least 3 years at the time!
Song Art by @watermelonmountaindew <3
Mixing by my brother Alec Ferris (check out his music!)
Lyrics under the cut!
(Verse 1)
When I was younger
All I wanted was the crown
My father wore atop his head
I swore I’d never let him down
But look at me now
(Chorus 1)
Cause every dragon that I slayed
Was another pill to take
And every smile he shot my way
It wasn’t enough, it was never enough
Maybe I was never enough
(Verse 2)
Expectations
It was all part of the game
That I loved with all my heart
Still it broke me all the same
They only loved me for my name
(Chorus 2)
All those walls that I built up
Just to keep from crashing down
No one tried to break me out
They didn’t care, no they didn’t care
to show me how
Until you came around
(Bridge)
A rocky start when it began
I thought I couldn’t let you in
You saw right through the mask I wore
You changed my world, you unlocked the door
You ended my own inner war
(Chorus 3)
Was punished for all that I’d done
For all the wars I could’ve won
And all those ways that I’d fucked up
But you didn’t care, no you didn’t care
You showed me love
(Ending verse)
I was waiting for my life to start
After all that I’d gone through
But now I know straight from the heart
It started here, it started with you
It started with you.
#omgcp#omgcheckplease#zimbits#music#mic check please!#IT'S DONE!!!!!!#can't believe it took 2 years...almost 3#there was a year long gap between writing these and producing them but still-#will be making a post with all the songs in order soon!#also let me know if there's any interest in another stream where I play the whole EP from start to finish this time???#oh also if putting these on Bandcamp is a good idea-#SoundCloud
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A bit of publishing stuff (if you get my newsletter you've already seen this)
So by now you lovely people have all seen the announcement about what books I have coming up next. Ragpicker King is coming March 4, 2025, and The Last King of Faerie is coming early 2026.
I know a lot of you were hoping for LKOF to come earlier. It’s going to be a big gap between the last Shadowhunter book and the next — three years. Previously the longest gap between Shadowhunter books was two years, between Mortal Instruments and the Dark Artifices.
I announced last year that I was taking time off — six months. It was the first time I’d taken any real time off since 2005. The pandemic had just happened and I was wiped out physically and mentally. I also needed to take stock of where I was in my publishing journey and really think about what I wanted — it had been years since I’d had time to consider whether I was happy, because I always had another deadline and that was always more important.
When I came to the end of The Last Hours, I was “out of contract” — meaning I didn’t have any further Shadowhunter books that were owned by or owed to a publisher. it was the first time that had happened since, again, 2005. Being out of contract is your one chance to change anything you want to change about your career, and I knew I was going to leave my longtime US publisher of the Shadowhunter books and move to Random House, who published Sword Catcher.
This isn’t a small decision for any writer to make. It sometimes happens when a writer has been at a publisher for a very long time that the nature of the publisher changes. Maybe all the people you worked with when you first came to that publisher have gone elsewhere, so your team has inherited you rather than having chosen you. Maybe your publisher has been sold to another company whose vision for that publisher doesn’t fit with yours. Maybe your publisher isn’t interested in your genre anymore.
I spent a lot of time agonizing over the decision—I certainly could have stayed where I was, but I knew that was no longer the best decision for the books. So those of you who pay attention to these kinds of details will note that where the other Shadowhunter books have all been published by McElderry Books, these next ones will be published by Knopf. (Who are an amazing imprint. They make great books.)
Normally a writer wouldn’t really address switching publishers — it happens a lot, and most readers don’t care who publishes a book. I��m talking about it now because I know there will be a lot of people who are angry and don’t understand why Ragpicker King is coming out before Last King of Faerie. The short answer is: Ragpicker King has been under contract since it was sold along with Sword Catcher, years ago now, and I’m obligated to get it done when I said I was going to. The books of The Wicked Powers are only just now securely under contract enough to be announced, as you just saw! So Ragpicker King is planned to be turned in in a couple of months, and after that I will be able to focus entirely on The Last King of Faerie (which I already began, but since it was only sold to Knopf last October, I was only able to get started after that).
And it takes a a year at least to write a book and another good year or so to publish it, and that gets us to the pub dates we’ve got. I would love if I could get it to you earlier, but multiple factors have brought us to this point, and in the end, not rushing through them is the best thing for the books, and will produce the best version of those books. I always want to get you my best work — that’s what is important to me above all things.
In terms of other publishers in other countries — I’m staying with all my longterm Shadowhunter publishers. Nothing’s going to change for y’all — Walker Books is still publishing Shadowhunters in the UK, even though a different publisher is going to publish In Fire Foretold there (due to spiciness.) ;)
For those of you who backed the Kickstarter, that will mean you do get new Shadowhunter content between now and early 2026* — which was part of the reason I did it! I’m also talking to my new publisher about bringing Better in Black out — with at least a six month gap for the Kickstarter backers to have it to themselves — so fingers crossed. There’s also Black Volume of the Dead, the final Eldest Curses book, which is still planned and which I am still excited to write, but since it is set after Last King of Faerie, it hasn’t been scheduled yet. More news on that as it develops—for now, I wanted to talk directly about the schedule in the next couple of years, since I feel confident it is set and will reliably happen this way, something I can’t yet say about 2027 and beyond. The point is, I’m really excited to bring you Wicked Powers just as soon as it is ready, and I know enough about it to say it’s going to be quite a ride!
And also an early look at In Fire Foretold.
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Happy Valentines!
A little thing for @athanasius-symposium-of-writings It's about time I return the favor and write something for you!! I'm sorry it's not longer, but I hope you like it all the same, friend!
The lights were dim. Remnants of your dinner were strewn about the coffee table, along with your half-empty wine glasses and the entirely empty wine bottle. Like-authored books lay strewn about the floor, laying open and dog-eared from excerpt readings. Bouquets of roses spotted the other available surfaces, and the distinct aroma of them mingled with the scent of spiced tobacco. The smoke of it still hung in the air, twisting tantalizing patterns all the way back to the man who held the pipe. The man whose knee your chin rested on, admiring from your seat on the soft rug.
Orpheus blew another stream of smoke into the air, idly ghosting his fingers along your hair line, almost petting. Your eyes met, and with the faintest of smirks his fingers shifted along your face, to your ear, and traced the sculpted shape of it.
“You look tired,” he mused. “Have the wine and reading made you drowsy?”
“Just relaxed,” you assured. “I’m plenty awake.” That was a bit of a lie. You were a bit tired—you were full, buzzed, and wooed, but you weren’t ready for the night to end. It was hard to get the undivided attention of a man like Orpheus for such a long period. You weren’t even sure how he’d managed to convince or bribe everyone in the manor to stay out of the smoke room tonight, but you wouldn’t dare complain. Your first proper Valentines in however many years into this eternity, and it was better than you could have ever hoped.
“Good. I have a few more things for us,” he said, and reached for the drawer of the table beside his leather chair. You watched him produce a decorative box, painted with textured oils. Edgar’s work, no doubt. He balanced it on his opposite knee, holding his pipe between his teeth, and flipped it open delicately. Arranged inside were six chocolate covered strawberries.
He looked them over with great consideration, plucked one from its paper with ungloved fingers, and then brought it delicately to your lips. His eyes held yours with an unspoken order for you to do the same, and so you opened your mouth a bit slowly from the treat while gazing into dark amber. A drop of red juice rolled down your chin and slipped into the white of his dress pants.
“Very good,” Orpheus whispered once you’d swallowed. Returning the favor, he bit from the strawberry as well, subtly licking at the marks left by your teeth in the red flesh, and then retuned the final bit of the fruit for you to finish. “Another?”
“Save them,” you said, licking your lips. The motion of your tongue was what finally broke his eyes from yours, if only for a split second. “We can make them last. What other ‘things’ do you have for us?” You had an idea already, and the way he smiled when you rubbed his shin further cemented it. A shiver slipped up your spine. He set the box of strawberries aside, then occupied his hand instead by capturing your jaw with a careful but firm vice.
Orpheus took one final drag from his pipe—looking all too angelic in the low light as he closes his eyes and breathes in fumes—and leaned forward to kiss your captive mouth. The sweet, spiced pipe smoke slipped through the little gaps of your melding lips, dancing tongues. It coiled up around your faces like a curtain, filled your nose, fogged your squinting peripheral vision. You managed to inhale a bit of it too, and the airy burn it left at the back of your throat, you decided, suited Orpheus’s intensity perfectly.
Any remaining thoughts scrambled after that; Orpheus slipped down from his chair, graceful as a swan, and joined you on the rug, where you could roll together in a sea of his words.
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Can you tell us a bit about what the current climate is like for screenwriters in regards to the WGA strike?
ISSUES FOR WRITERS THAT ARE DRIVING THE WGA STRIKE:
I wrote about this when I ran for the WGA board, so this is mostly a cut and paste from my candidate statement. That said, some of the most pressing issues as I see them:
DECREASES IN WEEKLY PAY
Many TV writers are suffering financially due to shorter episodic orders. Twenty years ago, show orders were for 22, 24, or even 26 episodes per season. For producer level writers paid by the episode, this guaranteed a comfortable wage. Now season orders, especially on streaming, can be for as few as 6 episodes and are commonly for 8 or 10 episodes. Yet writers are still employed to work on these shows for months at a time. As a result of pro-rating episodic rates for a reduced number of episodes over a significant span of time, many mid-level writers now earn a fraction of the wages they would have gotten 10 or 20 years ago. In other words, per-episode pay rates have become outmoded and disadvantageous to writers.
STAFF WRITER SCIPT PAYMENTS
Little known fact: Staff Writers (the lowest ranking writers on a tv show) don't get paid extra for their scripts, which are charged against their overall pay. With shorter orders, Staff Writers often get hired for many less weeks, and sometimes they have to repeat Staff Writer multiple times before getting promoted. Staff Writers need to get paid script fees to shore up their salaries.
LOW STREAMING RESIDUALS
Streaming services currently pay much lower residuals than networks or traditional syndication, both on features and television episodes. This practice undermines the financial stability of writers and also reduces payments to our pension and health funds. When I started in this business, writing several episodes of a successful show, or writing a successful movie, guaranteed years of future income, helping plug the gaps between jobs. Streaming has greatly reduced this income source.
The Guild is fighting for significantly higher streaming residuals, to bring them closer to parity with traditional network reruns.
LACK OF PRACTICAL EXPERIENCE FOR NEW WRITERS
Twenty years ago, a lower level writer might work on several scripts a year, supervising and rewriting freelancers in addition to writing or co-writing episodes of their own. Today, lower levels on streaming shows are lucky to write a single script a season. Often this script is shared with a senior writer. As a result, these writers are missing out on valuable writing experience as they rise through the ranks.
Unfortunately, this lack of opportunity extends to all aspects of production. In streaming, lower level and mid-level writers are often no longer with the project by the time prep begins. This means they get no experience in vital aspects of production, including rewriting for production and working in post. As a result, up-and-coming writers are often underprepared when they reach upper levels or sell their own shows. Compound this with a rise in “director driven” streaming shows, and the power and authority of television writers is under significant threat.
The Guild made several proposals to ensure that the future generations of writers get the skills they need to thrive, steer their own creations, and continue our success as a union. The studios rejected them all.
PROLIFERATION OF FREE WORK
This has long been an issue for screenwriters, and it’s increasingly becoming a concern for television writers as well, especially in streaming. More and more, producers secure established intellectual property as source material, then engage in protracted audition processes during which dozens of writers are asked to pitch their takes on I.P. they do not control, often over the course of multiple meetings for months on end.
Even for the winner of a pitch sweepstakes, actual payment can be months or even years away, and it’s almost always contingent on a network sale or securing financing and distribution. Which requires more pitching and more unpaid work. In short, writers are spending enormous amounts of time developing pitches, often paying for visual materials out of their own pockets, all just to secure if/come deals, many of which never bear fruit.
Finally, writers that do win sweepstakes pitches are often only paid for a single draft, while having to execute multiple unpaid "producer drafts. This is driving down writer wages in features and development.
MINIROOMS
Over the past few years, the companies have institute a practice called "mini-rooms" wherein they hire a handful of writers to start working on a show before it's greenlit or picked up for another season. Mini-rooms only pay scale, meaning a pay cut for most writers, and they come with no guarantee of future employment. The WGA wants the studios to pay a higher rate for mini-rooms.
TEXT GENERATING PROGRAMS
Falsely labelled "A.I." Text-Generators like ChatGPT could become a fundamental threat to human writers. These programs are essentially plagiarism machines. They are programed on our writing, then chop it up and spew it back out in a kind of algorithm driven version of the proverbial infinite monkeys with typewriters. We need to restrict the use of Text Generators and to protect human writers.
Hope that helps! Please note I am not a WGA board member and am not part of the negotiations. These are the issues as I see them. Opinions expressed are solely my own.
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Why Peter Parker Was Not 15 When He Was Bit: A Treatise
This was originally a twitter thread but in an effort to save the one thing I actually care about having posted there from whatever the fuck is going on, here we go!
While early on there aren't any outright 100% indisputable references to Peter's age (i.e. himself or Aunt May just saying it outright on the page), from the very beginning of publishing, there have been enough references that give a firm grounding to Peter being a senior in high school throughout the first 28 issues of Amazing Spider-Man.
ASM 8 (Jan 1964)
Right off the bat in Amazing Spider-Man 8 (a tribute to teenagers xoxo you will always be famous) we get our first definitive mention that Peter and his classmates are in their senior year of high-school at the very least from this point on in the narrative.
ASM 14 (Jul 1964); ASM Annual 1 (Oct 1964)
Peter himself states this 6 issues later trying to wheedle Aunt May into letting him go to Hollywood on assignment from JJJ to cover Spider-Man's cinematic debut in a film role offered to him by the Green Goblin (in his first comic appearance. When I say I love the Silver Age.) ASM Annual 1 confirms that the gang is in their senior year yet again.
This is already stupid long so the rest goes behind the cut!
This isn't something that's just dropped in the Silver Age and then forgotten. 26 years after those first mentions, Web of Spider-Man Annual 4 makes a call back to Amazing Spider-Man 3 and places that moment in Peter's senior year of high-school:
Left: WOS Annual 4 (Oct 1988); Right: ASM 3 (Jul 1963)
While on tour to promote the Bugle-produced book of his Spider-Man photography, WEBS, Peter states on a TV interview that a photo of his first encounter with Doc Ock was taken while he was a senior in high school.
"But Mabs," I hear you say, "so what if he's in his senior year in ASM! Even if that's true, that doesn't mean he was in his senior year in Amazing Fantasy 15, and that still doesn't establish an age! He's a super mega genius so like....he probably skipped grades, prodigy that he is! And there was a time gap btw AF15 and ASM1, right?"
Alright let's go through this. As mentioned earlier, yeah, references to Pete's age are very few and far between and are a bit wobbly but let's put them together. The first age ref we get is in ASM 16:
ASM 16 (Sep 1964)
Here our favorite public defender is "rescued" from a mugging by the webslinger. After Peter fucks off, Matt gives us the above rundown of Spidey's characteristics: about 17, 5'10" and in excellent health. So "about 17" which, granted, doesn't have to mean exactly 17 but since we've established that at this point Peter is def in senior year, based on NYS age matriculation dates, Matt's probably spot on.
New York State matriculates students based on the age they are on December 1st of a school year. A 1976 edition of school regulations lays out the process: "[a] child who attains the age of 5 by December 1 of the current school year must be admitted to the kindergarten if a district operates such a program". So this means that within the same kindergarten class, kids born from the beginning of the school year to November 30th would be turning 5, while kids born from December 1 through the end of the school year would turn 6 during the school year, and kids born over the summer would also turn 6 but wouldn't celebrate during the school year.
Following that, Sept through Nov babies would be 16-going-on-17 in the beginning of their senior year, Dec - June would be 17-going-on-18 during senior year, June - Aug would turn 18 after graduation.
Peter being 17 or 18 during the high-school run of ASM just makes sense and there's nothing in the writing up until this point to push against that! In fact, when you first start seeing the de-aging of Peter creep in, AF15 literally had to be changed to make a younger age fit!
AF 15 (Aug 1962)
ASM Annual 23 (Sep 1989)
The very first time we see 15 floated as an age when Peter becomes Spider-Man is in the Amazing Spider-Man annual 23 of 1989. The annual is trying to present itself as Peter scientifically studying his own origin story, so the direct parallels to AF15 make it really clear when it's retconning the original to make sense with the younger age.
The panel where ASMAnn23 states Peter is 15 is otherwise a near word-for-word quote of AF15. Then later, the cognate panel of Peter in science class changes AF15's "you're sure to rate a scholarship when you graduate" to "in a couple of years when you graduate, you're sure to rate a scholarship." (Gerry Conway back at it again). This is the first time there's ever a hint at his story not being centered around his senior year, and that was made explicit in this issue by changing the original dialogue in order to justify stating he was a 15 year old in this recollection of AF15!
This is also an argument against the 'skipped grades' premise. Conway could have easily just left the text of AF15 as it was which would hint that Peter was obviously very young for being a senior in high school, but instead he tried to push AF15 back in time to fit a usual high-school timeline for a 15 year old (who would be at the earliest a December baby in their freshman year and the latest a Sept-Nov baby in sophomore year, and would be 'a couple of years' away from graduating).
Plus, fr if you're gonna argue that he skipped grades, it's on you to prove that. There are literally zero references to that throughout 616 continuity so like, why tf should it be taken as given? Please.
Anyway. And so are sown the seeds for torturing the already stretched timeline to make Peter an uwu baby infant. They didn't take right away. References to age go away after this and only resurface in 1994 (as far as I could see), where we see him aged back up:
ASM 395 (Nov 1994)
'I can't believe I was only sixteen when that spider bit me' actually makes sense with all of ASM being established as fully in Peter's senior year, Matt gauging him at 'about 17' in ASM 14, the age matriculation cut off for NYS schools, and the timeframe established between AF15 and ASM Annual 1 from 1964:
ASM Annual 1 (Oct 1964)
ASM Annual 1 (which I mentioned earlier as yet another point establishing Peter as being in his senior year) also has this little timestamp. Peter is watching Aunt May mourn for Uncle Ben and mentions that Ben's death was 'months ago'. Granted, that's in no way specific but I feel like it establishes at least a rough timeframe for the intended time gap between AF15 and ASM -- and it's not years.
And to be honest, there's really only one space in the narrative that allows for a time gap at all (Stan is really attached to his 'a few minutes later!' 'later that day!' pacing let me tell you!)
AF 15 (Aug 1962) page 9, panel 1
While the narration box says 'In the days that follow' it seems like we can take that colloquially considering the stream of newspaper headlines. For all of that to take place, I feel like it's not a massive stretch to allow this panel at the very least a month or so, which gives a bit of breathing room between when Peter lets the burglar run away and when Uncle Ben is murdered. (Which if you think about it a delayed dropping of the other shoe actually makes it worse! So how about that!). But between this and ASMAnn1, I don't think you can argue for years taking place in this gap which would have to be the case for a 15-year-old bite timeframe.
So if Peter's bit his senior year, for him to be 16 when he's bit he has to be born between the beginning of the school year and November 30th (because school has to be in session when he's bit). Which fits with the official New York City 2012 declaration of his birthday being October 14:
If he's 16 when bit in his junior year (again, school has to be in sesh), you've got to decide when from December of his junior year to the end of the school year makes sense for him to be bit with the rest of the time markers and how long you're gonna give to the time skip in AF15 for it all to qualify as just 'months' up to ASMAnn1. Which definitely can be done, especially if you AF15 pages 1-8 near the end of his jr year, put the time skip over the summer between junior and senior year, and rest of pages 9-11 in his senior year. In some ways this option makes a bit more sense, to be honest!
The way I personally like to square it is to go with all of AF15 and ASM1-28 happening in Peter's senior year (which he reaches without skipping grades) interpreting the 'when you graduate' in the AF15 panel referring to the same school year. If he's 16, the bite happens sometime before his birthday which has to be before Nov. 30th and, sure, why not Oct 14 -- it fits. A month or so passes between when he gets bit and starts his show-biz stint, and when Ben gets murdered. That means the last 3 pages of AF15 (bar the first panel on pg 9) to ASM28 spans from some time in December of his senior year to the end of the school year.
(If you don't care if he was 16 or 17 when he was bit, AF15 - ASM28 can take place any time from the second half-ish of his junior year to the end of his senior year, you can decide how many 'months' the time skip is in AF15, pick his birthday out of a hat, and Matt's "about 17" could mean 18, too. Have a ball.)
But in any case whichever way you choose to spin it, this shit is dumb and wrong:
Civil War 2 (Aug 2006)
and especially deserves to be memory holed for the ridiculous de-aging of Peter Parker that has subsequently been pushed into popular memory and continues throughout current Marvel 'brand synergy'. Sad and bad!
#proportionate thoughts of a spider#spider-man#peter parker#this is so unnecessarily long lmao i probably should have just left it on twitter tbh#then i'm forcibly shut the fuck up#and like say what you want about jjj but man's not sending a 15 year old out to do crime scene photography#like i just don't think he's *that* unhinged#anyway i'm sure someone will find a logical flaw here but consider this#no you didn't#descriptions in alt text#yes all of them
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Forbidden (part 2)
Pairing: Doctor!Strange x Fem!Reader
Synopsis: When Stephen finds out that Y/n is performing at a certain nightclub he decides to go and see her which ends up being the best thing he could have done that night.
Warnings: Mentions of alcohol and person being drugged, but basically just fluffy.
Word Count: 4,4k
A/N: Guys, sorry for taking so long to post this chapter, but I'm sure it will be worth the wait.
You were trying to concentrate on your studies, but your mind kept wandering to anything other than the authors you needed to read in order to write your dissertation. If your lack of inspiration wasn't enough, you still had to deal with the fact that even after a month you still hadn't received any responses about your PhD course and your final year of college was about to start.
You sighed frustrated leaning over the book you were trying to read without success and faced the city of New York through the window. The day was cloudy and a thin, insistent rain persisted throughout the morning. You closed your eyes surrendering to boredom and mental fatigue and when you realized there he was, glorious in his blue robes and red cloak smiling that sideways smile.
Since the day of the party you haven't seen him again and it had been nearly two weeks. You were resisting the idea of calling America and coming up with a reason to go there, but even for a teenager that would seem weird and besides, what good would it do? You didn't want to see him from a distance, you didn't want to just exchange a few words with him, you wanted everything and although you felt that there was tension between you, all that flirting seemed so fruitless and frustrating.
You understood that there was a huge age gap between you and the fact that he met you when you were 15 and then bleeped for 5 years didn't help much. You've aged and matured, but he still seems to see you as a teenager and maybe that's all you'll ever be for him, after all you've spent the last year trying to get him to notice you, but the attention you get never seems genuine enough.
Nat said you should forget about him and try looking for someone your own age, you knew Mike had a crush on you and at 25 he was a more reasonable option than the sorcerer doctor from Bleecker Street. Yet how could you even try? There was no comparison, neither Mike nor any other man would ever match Stephen Strange and he was everywhere, invading your mind at the most inopportune moments.
The best thing to do would be to try to forget him and get over that absurd crush, but how do you abandon hope after he called you sweetheart and kissed you goodnight?
You were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard a knock on the door.
"Come in" You said sitting up straight and going back to pretending you were reading.
Tony poked his head inside "Too busy? I can come back later." You shook your head smiling at him "No, come in. I can't study today" You pouted.
He came in and sat at the foot of your bed. You turned to look at him.
"Still no response from NYU? You know I could call them..."
You sighed "I know, but for once I wanted to get something for myself"
He nodded making an exaggerated face "By the way, I got you a meeting with a record company"
You shook your head "Ah Tony, this is not how I wanted things to happen!"
He held up his hands in surrender "I didn't do anything, I swear. The producers who were here got impressed with your music, that's it. Besides, it's just a conversation."
"And who brought the producers here?" You accused. You weren't really mad at him, you were just frustrated because deep down you knew this was going to happen and it wasn't even a bad thing. You shouldn't be complaining at all.
"The meeting will be on Monday, I suggested that Pepper go with you if you agree of course."
You nodded "Thank you" He tapped the mattress calling you to sit next to him and you obeyed, he put his arm around your shoulders and pressed you against his chest resting his chin on your head "You know I want the best for you. I know your father would kick my ass if I didn't take care of you right."
You chuckled "I'm not a kid, Tony." He shrugged "It doesn't change anything for me, I'll still keep taking care of you"
You nodded in silence and he didn't say anything either. You enjoyed spending time with Tony, it was rare because he was always so busy, but when you could you enjoyed the moment. There was no discomfort in the silence, you didn't need to fill it with any futility just so the situation wouldn't be awkward. You were happy with each other's presence.
"I'm going out on a mission tonight and I don't think I'll be back before the start of the week, I want to make sure you're okay before I go."
You looked up in surprise "Is Strange coming with you?" You regretted asking the question the moment the words came out of your mouth. "I mean... I always worry when he's involved because I know the situation is more serious or you wouldn't need a sorcerer's help."
He nodded "Fortunately it's nothing Rhodes and I can't handle on our own, no need to worry."
You agreed "I'll be fine, you don't have to worry. Just promise me you'll be careful, I can't lose you too"
He nodded "You won't lose me, ever. I'll always be here for you."
He patted you on the shoulder and got up "Now enough of that. Happy told me you have a show tonight at a weird night club, his words not mine, and I asked him to come with you, just to put my mind at ease."
You looked at him in surprise and didn't even try to hide your irritation "Tony I don't need a babysitter" He crossed his arms passing a hand over his face "Do this for me, I'll be more relaxed if you let Happy go with you"
You reluctantly agreed and watched him leave. Your cell phone vibrated with messages from America and you smiled to yourself.
…
America entered the Sanctum through the portal along with Wong and Stephen and threw herself on the sofa in the main room. She kicked off her sneakers and lay down, crossing her legs and answering her cell phone messages.
"Need I remind you that you have homework to finish?" Stephen asked as he walked past her and up the stairs with the typical bad mood of when he was tired. She shrugged "No need but you just did."
He didn't answer and she heard the sound of a door slamming upstairs.
Wong approached, picking up her sneakers and placing them beside the sofa and then extended his hand demanding that she hand over her cell phone.
"Ten more minutes please, I'm just answering my friends messages." Wong sighed "Ten minutes and then go finish the homework" She grimaced "I can't finish my philosophy homework right now, its very complex, I don’t know what to do."
Wong put his hand on his hip like he did when he was thinking "Why don't you ask y/n for help?" America smiled pointing the phone "What do you think I'm doing?"
"Procrastinating" Came Stephen's authoritative voice, he was coming down the stairs carrying a pile of books "She's perfectly capable of finishing it by herself, she's just procrastinating."
America stuck her tongue out at him and continued typing quickly on her cell phone and then celebrated when she got a quick reply "Y/n promised she'll help me, but she can't come today. She said she'll come tomorrow."
Wong nodded "Fine, then you finish the others and save this one for tomorrow." He left the room and Stephen placed the books he was carrying carefully on the book shelf. "Did she say why she can't come today?" He asked and America shrugged "Looks like she has a show tonight and is also studying for her college dissertation." Stephen hummed turning his attention to the books.
…
Stephen spent the whole day mentally discussing the pros and cons of going to the night club y/n was performing at. It wasn't the kind of place he would frequent, to be quite honest Stephen didn't frequent anywhere, his life in the last few years had been reduced to work on the Kamar Taj and the Sanctum and a few sporadic missions with the Avengers. However, the idea of seeing her again was always something that excited him.
He could wait and see her at the Sanctum the next day since she'd promised America she'd help her with her homework, but a part of him yearned to see her away from there, away from Wong's watchful eyes, to enjoy her presence for a few minutes as if it wasn't wrong or forbidden what he knew it was.
He still clearly remembered when she had America's age and then he turned to dust for 5 years and when he came back she was a woman. He knew she had a crush on him but that was the problem, he could never tell if she really liked him or if it was just innocent flirting. The only thing he was sure of was that there was nothing innocent about the way he looked and thought of her and he felt extremely guilty about all the lewd things that crossed his mind at the most inopportune moments. If only she weren't practically Tony Stark's daughter! No, still. He was twice her age, more than that, for God's sake, what was he thinking? He could be her father!
He sighed heavily as he stared at the change of clothes he'd placed on the bed and before he could change his mind he snapped his fingers and the clothes materialized on his body: a pair of dark jeans, a gray shirt and a suit jacket of a darker shade of gray. He had shaved and trimmed his goatee and his hair was combed neatly to one side. He took one last look in the mirror and Cloaky flew towards him ready to cling on his shoulders.
"Not tonight, buddy" He held it in his hand and shook it once making it shrink in size and then he folded it like a pocket handkerchief and put it in his inside pocket.
He intended to slip through the door unnoticed, but America and Wong were sprawled out on the couch sharing a bowl of popcorn and watching some stupid horror movie. "Where are you going?" America asked curiously turning to face him.
He stopped at the foot of the stair "Out"
She looked at him with elevator eyes "You're going on a date"
Wong just chuckled and Stephen felt slightly offended but decided anything he said would only compromise him further "Don't wait for me"
…
You were getting ready for your show under Happy's watchful eyes which was making not only you but all your friends uncomfortable.
"Does he really need to stand there staring at us like that?" Susanne, your drummer and also co-founder of the band, asked.
"It's a little scary" complained Mike and you sighed. "I'll talk to him."
You finished your makeup and walked over to Happy who had been standing with his arms crossed immobile for over an hour. "Happy you're scaring my friends" He raised an eyebrow "I'm doing my job."
You sighed "Why don't you take a walk and see if everything is okay out there? It's time to clear the entrance and you can take the opportunity to take a good look at the people who are arriving. You have a great eye for analyzing people ."
He looked undecided. "Mr. Stark asked me not to take my eyes off you." You put your hands on your hips, controlling yourself so as not to lose your temper "He's assigned you to work for me tonight and I need you to go outside and do what I asked." He hesitated a bit, but he did as you said.
Mike, who was lying on the sofa in the small room where you were getting ready strumming the guitar, whistled teasingly "You look beautiful when you get all bossy like that, did you know?"
You rolled your eyes and Susanne laughed "Give up dude."
…
When Stephen approached the entrance of the night club, he noticed a line of people waiting for the gates to open and decided to stay away to avoid being recognized. Inside in the darker environment with flashing lights it was easier for him to go unnoticed. However, it didn't take long for him to see Tony Stark's head of security, Happy Logan standing in front of the gate watching every person who entered. On one hand he was relieved to know that Stark had bothered to send someone to take care of you, on the other hand it was a huge problem because all he didn't want was Stark to find out that he went to a night club clearly to see you.
He seriously thought about turning around and walking away, but knowing you were there so close to him was too much of a temptation for him to give up now. He made a gesture with his fingers using magic to hide his identity. It was a simple spell really and one he used far too often even though he hated to admit it. The spell distorted his appearance enough that no one recognized him and was only detectable by another magic user.
When he finally entered the club, the halls were already crowded with people with colored hair, tattoos and piercings dressed in leather clothes, buckles and spikes. He particularly liked the nostalgic vibe of the music they played, a mix of post punk and 80's new wave fronted by bands like Joy Division and The Cure, but he also listened Bauhaus, Type O Negative and Siouxsie Sioux among others he didn't know.
He entered the hall where you would perform and sat at a farther table waving to a passing waitress. He ordered a whiskey and waited looking around and at the clock every minute anxious to finally see you and when you got onstage he mentally berated himself for the way his body reacted to you, the least of the problems being the ridiculous erection resulting from the sight of you dressed beautifully in a black leather dress with ripped stockings and combat boots, the worst was the heart racing in his chest and ringing loudly in his ears as he was sucked into a million possibilities of what he would do if he could put his hands on you. Even though there was no one he knew there, and even if there was, no one would recognize him, let alone be able to read his mind, Stephen couldn't help but feel guilty for all his nasty thoughts.
When you came down from the stage with your friends from the band to interact with the people waiting to greet you, Stephen decided not to go there and talk to you. Throughout the night he watched you go from table to table and stop to chat with everyone, laughing that beautiful laugh he so often heard echoing through the Sanctum.
He had enough time to think about it and he had already decided that it would be best to leave without you knowing he was there. Yet when you sat down at the bar and a man approached you, clearly flirting with you, he couldn't help but feel a nagging twinge of jealousy. Besides, even though the man was apparently younger than he was, he was clearly much older than you and that made the blood boil in Stephen's veins.
He scanned the room for Happy Logan but the security guard appeared to have been abducted. Stephen hadn't seen Happy during your entire show and he wondered if something had happened. His instincts were on alert anyway and he didn't even know why.
He watched as you walked away from the bar and headed towards the bathroom and even though he felt bad about it he followed you, watching you from a distance but now with a different purpose, he wanted to make sure you were safe.
You didn't take long to come back accompanied by other girls talking and laughing and to increase his irritation you stopped again at the bar sitting next to the guy who offered you a drink. He sat back watching you tip your head back laughing at whatever stupid joke the guy told you. He knew all that irritation was jealousy. He wanted to be the man talking to you and making you laugh like that. Plus he hated how that guy was touching you, his hand going down your back deliberately as you accepted a second drink from him. Shit, Stephen never touched you like that and there was nothing he wanted more than...
"May I join you?" Stephen looked surprised at the blonde woman with a ponytail dressed in a black velvet dress and combat boots who was smiling at him. He gestured for her to sit down.
"Sorry, I feel like I know you from somewhere." She said smiling
He smirked "Hardly. It's the first time I've been here." She smiles "You can tell by the way you're dressed."
He frowned, pouring the rest of the whiskey from the glass still without taking his eyes off you. "What's wrong with my clothes?" The woman chuckled "They aren't black to begin with." He resisted the temptation to use magic to refill the glass, but instead he stopped the passing waiter and ordered another whiskey and then faced the woman politely "Can I buy you a drink?" She smiles "I'll take what you're drinking. I'm Mary, by the way." He smiles "Stephen" He replied frowning watching you bring your hand to your forehead as if something bothered you.
Mary stared in the same direction he was looking "Ah, Tony Stark's protégé"
Stephen raised an eyebrow at the playful way she said the word. "Do you know y/n?"
She sighed "Everyone knows y/n, she's kind of a star here in NY besides being Stark's goddaughter, but no, I don't know her personally. Do you know her?"
He accepted the drinks the waiter brought and took a long gulp of the whiskey "Yes, I do."
"Then why don't you go talk to her instead of admiring her from a distance? You clearly like her"
He laughs nervously "It's complicated."
Stephen watched you falling from the bench you were sitting on, the way the man wrapped his arms around you and looked around as if he made sure no one was looking was enough for Stephen to understand that something was wrong.
"...she's clearly too privileged to know what she's talking about in her songs..."
Stephen got up grabbing his wallet and taking out some notes and throwing them on the table "Excuse me" He said moving away and walking quickly in time to prevent the man, who had already wrapped his arm around your neck and practically dragged you away from the bar, succeed. He quickly looked around and there was no sign of Happy Logan or any of your friends.
"Hey" Stephen grabbed the man's shoulder and when he turned around, Stephen punched him as hard as he could. His hand hurt, but in that moment he didn't care. The man fell to the ground and you slumped to the side clearly unable to stay on your feet and Stephen wrapped his arms around you slapping your face to try to keep you awake "Hey, are you okay? Talk to me, what are you feeling?"
You stared at him in confusion, your head spinning too fast to see his face. Stephen moved his fingers quickly when the man tried to get up keeping him on the ground. A group of security guards approached and Stephen moved his fingers again, disappearing with his disguise. Some people who were crowding around to see the scene turned on their cameras to photograph him the moment they recognized him.
"Stephen... is that you?" You asked confused, he didn't answer.
"That man drugged her" Stephen said to security. One of them picked the man off the ground and carried him away. The head of security approached "Doctor Strange"
Stephen greeted him with a nod "Keep that man locked up, I'm sure Tony Stark will want to talk to him"
The head of security nodded "I'll call an ambulance"
Stephen held you tight in his arms, shaking his head "It won't be necessary, I'll take care of her." The security guard nodded and then spoke to the people watching the scene "The show is over guys"
"Stephen... what's going on?" You asked confused, your legs giving out. Stephen took his sling ring out of his pocket and opened a portal to the Sanctum. He took you in his arms and walked through the portal ignoring the amazed wows from the people watching the scene.
…
You woke up feeling a strange pain in your head and when you opened your eyes everything was spinning. "Fuck" you complained putting your hand on your forehead.
"Believe me, it could have been worse" came a baritone voice from your right. You stared at Stephen sitting in an armchair in the distance.
"What… what happened?"
He got up and walked over to the bed sitting beside you, he placed his hand on your forehead and then cupped your wrist and took your pulse. "You were drugged. If I wasn't there..." He shook his head irritably "I saw Happy Logan there, he was supposed to be taking care of you."
You looked around trying to figure out where you were. Apparently it was one of the Sanctum's many rooms. You sat up still feeling dizzy.
"Slowly, I managed to neutralize some of the substance in your body with a healing spell, but it will take a few hours for all of it to completely leave your system." Stephen sighed "You have no idea the risk you took tonight. If I hadn't been there..." He repeated and then fell silent.
You shook your head still confused "Why...why were you there?"
"I went to see you" He looked at you almost sheepishly like someone who's been caught doing something they shouldn't be doing. "America told me you would perform tonight"
Your heart skipped a beat "Thank you... for saving me."
He nodded "Please be more careful next time."
You frowned "Careful?"
He sighed heavily "I'm sure you've been taught not to drink from other people's cups. It's a basic concept really."
Were you understanding that right? He was blaming you.
"I didn't drink from his cup, he bought me a drink." You replied offended.
"And then had enough time to put whatever it was in your drink when you innocently walked away to go to the bathroom." He stopped, realizing how weird that sounded.
"You... you were stalking me" You accused "And why didn't you go talk to me like a normal person?"
He rested his thumb and index finger on the bridge of his nose "Because I shouldn't have been there in the first place."
You moved to stand up and he grabbed your arms "Where do you think you're going?"
"Home" You said, but he kept you in place.
"You need to rest now, I'll take you home later." You shook your head no "I need to know what happened to Happy, he wouldn't have left me there alone if something hadn't happened."
Stephen had already thought about that too.
"I'll find out what happened, but you need to rest now, please."
You sighed surrendering and stared at your hands without having the courage to look at him. You stayed quite for a few minutes til you had courage to speak again "So... you wanted to see me"
He placed his hand on top of yours "Yes"
You nodded "I am glad that you were there."
He chuckled "Yeah you are welcome"
You shook your head "No I'm not talking about what happened, of course I'm grateful you were there to save me but what I really want to say is I'm glad you came to see me in the first place ."
He smiled and it did not go unnoticed that he still had his hand in yours.
"I was missing you." He confessed and you stared at him in surprise, a dreamy smile playing on your lips and you didn't bother trying to hide it.
"I could have waited to see you tomorrow" He glanced at his watch "Well, today, since you promised you'd help America with her homework, but I couldn't." He exhaled heavily "Now I'm torn between being grateful to be there for you and at the same time I'm in trouble because Stark is going to find out I was there and I don't know how to explain it."
You moved your hand under his and he reached out waiting for you to place your palm over his. Palm to palm.
His hand was so big compared to yours, it was warm and shaking, the rough skin where scars cut into flesh contrasting with your soft, delicate skin.
"Explain it to me then" You asked, your voice barely a whisper.
He touched your face with his other hand, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. You felt your whole body tremble with that touch and you were sure it didn't go unnoticed by him.
"I like you, y/n"
You swallowed, "You...like me. What does that mean?"
He smirked tracing your lips with his thumb "It’s the most basic way to explain it, sweetheart"
You nodded "I like you too" Was all you could think to say.
He smiled that beautiful sideways smile, but then he sighed heavily as if the spell was broken, he pulled his hand from yours cleaning his throat and stood up "I'm going to let you sleep now. I'm will call Stark and tell him what happened. "
You shook your head "Tony is out on a mission with Rhodes"
Stephen nodded "I'll call Pottz then."
You nodded, your mind was fuzzy, your head ached and you felt drunk even though you knew that wasn't the case.
"I'll be in the next room, if you need anything just knock." Stephen stated.
You nodded trying to think of something to say so he wouldn't leave but nothing seemed good enough.
"Good night" You said.
Leave a comment if you liked it. Interact! I will love to read all of your comments and opinions. It inspires me to keep writing ;)
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Headcanons about Pedrenzo teammates au please
Hi Anna 👋👋👋👋 thank you so much for this.
This one is tough because it depends a lot on which part of their relationship we are talking about. It's pre-2005? It's 2005? It's between 2008-2010? Or it's 2012 and beyond? (Yes I know I put a gap but there not a lot of info in the 2010-2012 so maybe like pre-2005?, I might or might not have also write about that).
I'll try to give 5 head canons for each period, so it's going to be a long post.
Pre-2005
1- Jorge is stocked when he started to work with Dani because that's the rider he used as a reference. And now he's on the other side of the box. Dani is unimpressed. He's just there to win so no matter whose his teammate it he will destroy it.
2- Jorge tried to be friendly towards Dani because he knew he could learn from him, but he was meet with coldness.
3- They don't talk at all. Not even in the debrief, not even in team strategies. Not even when Jorge needs to understand the difference between the new piece/bike Dani has compared to what Jorge has. It's like there's a wall between them in there
4- When Dani wins the championship in 2003 the team partied a lot. Jorge was there like a puppy following Dani and relishing as he FINALLY have Dani's attention
2005
1- Part of Jorge is happy that Dani is his teammate because he knows how good he is. At the same time he knows he's the rider that needs to always beat on track. It's a hard expectation to manage. Dani is just slightly annoyed because he needs to keep his barriers always up. Plus Puig is always telling him to be careful and beat Jorge.
2- Team meetings are a fucking mess. Amatriaín and Puig are always at each other's throats accusing the other of interference/sabotage. They have to split the team meetings in team Dani and Team Jorge and just a few people are in both. to avoid conflict.
3- With each new battle and Jorge crashes the media is all over the team/managers/riders. They are always speculation from sabotage or foult play. Some rivals (De Angelis) might say the team used Jorge as a weapon to make sure Dani won the 250cc Championship the second time in a row.
4- Afer the 2005 Japanese GP Dani is asked to come to the stewards room and discuss Jorge's behavior the team asked Dani to play nice, so he does it. Jorge doesn't get a race ban but he still messed with Dani and De Angelis in the next race and gets it anyways.
5- When Dani wins the tittle that year (Australia), he goes to Jorge's room in the house the team rents in there and rubs his championship. Dani is totally wasted so they might get into a fight and might or might not hate kissed each other.
Between 2008-2010
1- Team tried to brush off the past bad relationship, but after Qatar and the Spanish GP incidents it was clear that they can't. Team is just always doing damage control with them.
2- Team meetings are always separated and Dani demands no data is shared between them.
3- Jorge is always telling the media what's going on, so it's like the media is always at the garage with them. Dani prefers to do the talking on the track., which not always works well as Jorge likes to paint him as the bad guy. Team let them because they are producing results.
4- They bet on results and the winner makes the other do something humiliating.
5- Team doesn't let hem be together in events or do videos for social media due to reasons... Meaning Jorge was shading Dani all the time and Dani always left the place angry. Rumors said the physically fight each other at the back of a garage and might or might not be true.
2012-Beyond
1- Both are hesitant, not sure how they stands they are cordial at each others (if it's post-2015 Dani might be the one to start the first conversation asking about Jorge's collarbone).
2- They split the developing job well. Dani sits there listening Jorge dissect the Yamaha and trying to understand where the Honda is stronger and how to improve the weakness. Jorge sits there looking at Dani when he talks to the engineers for hours about the differences.
Also Dani is happy that for once he has a teammate that can actually feel the difference between 2 bikes or different parts (Thanks Marc and Casey for make Dani feel like he's imagining things).
3- They go out for dinners and events and Jorge is always sharing it on social media. They might even train together from time to time in Switzerland.
4- Their media videos are just them talking about 2 stroke bikes, with Dani smiling and Jorge watching Dani.
(If it's post 2012 they make reference to the 'And maybe in 2-3 years we get married a lot).
And that's all I can came up at the moment. Sorry
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1, 2, 7, 15, 18 from this ask game
1. What was the first fandom and/or pairing that you wrote fic for?
Like, ever??? When I was in 6th grade I wrote (and published on the ancient ff.net) Warrior Cats fanfiction 😭 in Year of our Lord 2011. It has since been erased. When I got back into writing as an adult, Nimona/Goldenheart was the first fandom and ship I published for. I'd been writing disconnected drabbles for various fandoms before that, though.
2.Do you participate in any writing events or challenges throughout the year? If so, what do you like about them?
I am participating in the Nimona Big Bang and I participated in Nimona Week! I may also be participating in Goldenheart Week once I check out the prompts!
What I really liked about Nimona Week was seeing different people's take on the prompts. For a lot of them I really assumed everyone would have the same idea but they really didn't! It was great to see so many interpretations and to see stories/art made that otherwise probably wouldn't have been :)
7. What do you struggle with when writing?
I have a really hard time writing action sequences. I think they usually come out okay, I just find them boring to write. This even happens with smut sometimes, if the characters are just DOING and not TALKING or ruminating, I get bored lmfao. I also find it hard for characters to communicate emotions to one another without using "therapy speak" which I see writers get made fun of for a lot but like, I'm neurodivergent. So are most people I love. I'm used to explaining how I feel and having others do the same, everything else is foreign to me. I don't quite understand how to write characters unintentionally miscommunicating their own emotions because like, I don't even know how to do that irl lmfao.
15. A Hollywood producer tells you that they want to film just one of your fics. Which fic would you want it to be?
This one is hard bc it means it would have to be both good, adaptable to film, and capable of standing without the source material. I think Ballister Has Brain Trauma and Ambrosius Wants to Beat the Ever-Loving Shit out of Todd Sureblade would be the best to adapt into that medium because it's more of a Things Happen than a People Talk fic like most of my others. As a sidenote what the fuck was July Yrrt thinking with that title? Lmao
18. What is a line/scene you’re really proud of? Give us the DVD commentary for that scene.
It's super hard to say, because I can't remember half of what I write 😭 I think I really like the scene from What Still is Yours where Ballister looks at the portrait of Ambrosius hanging in the Champion's Mansion.
"The person in the portrait was beautiful, as Ambrosius was, but he did not have the mischievous lilt in his smile that was somehow always there, even when his intentions were completely genuine. He didn't have the same eager softness in his blue eyes that bored into your soul and screamed "Here I am, love me, love me, love me." His teeth were perfectly straight and didn't have the little gap from sucking his thumb too much as a child that years of orthodontics hadn't been able to fix."
I just thought it was super sad and sweet and spoke to how well Ballister still knew Ambrosius and how much he still loved him even after all that had happened. One of the main things I notice about loving someone is their face becomes sort of etched into your mind, I experience face blindness so someone has to be pretty close to me for a long time before they become recognizable, and I thought this was a nice contrast between the Institution's image of Ambrosius versus how Ballister saw him / how he really was.
Ty for the ask!!! Please feel free to keep asking 💕
Questions Post
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Hello,
Since you've published a book I was wondering if I may ask a couple question?
Does it feel different from writing fanfictions?
Do you find your self relating to GRRM's pace of writing like the long years between books?
How did you like your covers for your original works? Did it take long to pick out?
This is just crack question but any chance there's a minor red headed character with her dark haired partner? You know as a little Easter egg jk. But in all seriousness we always knew you could sell your works and I'm glad you took the chance!
Hello!
Wow, I'm flattered that you want to know this stuff so thank you for asking! I'll happily answer each one below the cut :)
Does it feel different from writing fanfictions?
Yes. The joy of writing is still very much with me but there's some major differences and things I've had to adapt to when looking to sell books as an unknown author versus writing fanfic for a pairing that people are seeking out. The biggest is the wait for validation. Can't post a chapter of an idea, see how people respond and start crafting a story from there. You write the whole damn novel with little to no input from anyone else and then put it out there for critique before publishing.
It may sound weird but I've found more freedom writing original works in some ways and more restrictions in others.
The restrictions involve more planning, outlining and plotting. I have to stay on track instead of indulging in Side-Character B's backstory or a secondary romance, etc. Also, I would hop from genre to genre with my AUs and, while there are authors doing that I'm sure, it's not a safe bet for a newbie looking to make money. So, I found a niche in contemporary romance that I enjoy reading and writing and I dove in. I'll probably tackle another niche with a new pen once I've got ten or so books under my belt with the current pen name to try it out.
The freedoms involve making my characters whoever they tell me they are. No one will scream 'that's OCC!' because these are my characters. There's no trappings of canon or expectations in that sense either although romance readers tend to have favored tropes, etc and they expect you to stick to the 'formula of romance.' Also, I miss talking fic with other writers and fans of my Jonsa works as there's more distance between me as an author and people who read my books. Don't get me wrong, I love interacting with some of them who have reached out but the gap is there and it can feel lonelier.
Do you find yourself relating to GRRM's pace of writing like the long years between books?
No, lol. This is a side hustle for me but a romance writer would starve going at his pace unless you had that miracle hit right off the bat (which is soooooo rare) and even then you need to keep producing product to keep from becoming obsolete. I started my first novel February 1st last year. I will have FIVE completed by February 1st of this year. I'm shooting to average a book every 3 months this year at least. It takes me roughly six to eight weeks to write it and the remaining time goes into editing, formatting and submitting for ARC reviews. Quality AND quantity are the name of the game to earn money. In GRRM's defense though, my books average 75k words and one of those five was a novella at 40k words. And my books are romance centering on two individuals which are far less complicated to tell than his enormous fantasy opus with a cast of hundreds.
How did you like your covers for your original works? Did it take long to pick out?
Yes, I love them! The cover of your book is the single most important part of your passive marketing and you want your book to be as to-market as possible to attract readers in your genre and niche. My niche involves hot guys in suits on the covers and my dear friend made them for me except one which I paid a graphic artist $75 to do an illustrated cover for. Anyway, we would tinker and talk about the color or font, the placement of the title, etc. but, for me at least, this was a simple process. Some self-published folks spend far more time working on theirs or might pay hundreds of dollars on them but mine seem to draw eyes just fine. Maybe once I'm making bank more steadily I'll consider farming this out to a pro.
Any chance there's a minor red headed character with her dark haired partner?
Absolutely!! In fact, my first book includes a pairing that looks suspiciously like Jonsa (I changed the eye color for her and gave him Kit's brown eyes though). Partly, that's because the original idea for the book was going to be a Jonsa story until I decided to switch gears. My third book has a guy that fits Jon's description and my novella includes elements of Sansa's love of songs and such in the female lead. It's fun to have bits of the characters I love in my books even when they're my own creations.
Thanks so much for this delicious ask! Lots of fun to answer <3
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Wildest Dreams Chapter 14 - Shake It Off
Chapter summary: Bee was invited to test the W09 in for FP1 at the Hungaroring. She contends with her rising notoriety, and finally gets a small grasp on her Formula 1 dreams.
Content warning: N/A
Chapter word count: 3,590
Author’s notes: When I originally wrote this chapter, I didn't know how FP1 drivers were allocated car numbers, so I had Bee pick her own. However, I have since come to find out that teams are allocated temporary numbers for FP1 drivers to use, so I had to make a few tweaks.
I also did a lot of research because I don't know the exact mechanics of driving an F1 car. I can drive something with a manual transmission so it was tricky to write about driving the car without knowing how it works.
Anyway, here's the sources I used for this chapter:
Logan Sargeant, Oscar Piastri, and Pato O'Ward talking about their experiences testing F1 cars in Abu Dhabi 2021
Daniel Ricciardo completing the FIA jump test
Emergency Driver extraction (this is what they did to Bee in Chapter 5). You could imagine why the self-extraction is preferable.
All of the tyre compounds they used in 2018. A bit ridiculous, kind of glad they simplified it.
Previous Chapter
Brackley, Northampton, England, United Kingdom
Mid July, 2018
There was a two-week gap between Silverstone and Hungary, and Bee couldn’t ever remember having a busier time between races. The British GP was part of a doubleheader that year, so she went to the German GP in Hockenheim as well, despite there not being an F2 race. But she’d at least have a chance to spend a few days at home that way.
Mercedes had announced that she would be participating in an FP1 test at the Hungaroring, and she was immediately inundated with requests for interviews from all over the world, but especially Germany and the United States.
She worked with the Mercedes PR team to develop a press kit with canned quotes and publicity photos, which helped take some of the load off, but it was still a lot to deal with all at once. She still couldn’t do everything - a popular morning TV show in America wanted to fly her out to New York City for a live appearance, but she had to decline and did one via Skype instead. “It’s just too much to fly out now with such an important race coming up for me, I’m sorry.” she told the producers. It felt strange - when was the last time that anyone in the US cared about Formula 1?
“I think that Netflix show is helping with the US audience,” Toto said. Bee had forgotten about it for the most part, because Mercedes had opted to not participate, and she never really watched anything on Netflix - she just didn’t have time. She’d seen the cameras and crew around the paddock but there were always so many other camera crews around it didn’t really register.
She also found out that Nick had officially been released from his team following his two-race suspension. It made her angry, though, that his team didn’t release him because of his actions at Silverstone and throughout the season, but for non-payment of expenses and fees by one of his sponsors. To make matters worse, Trident, his team, posted on Twitter about Nick, decrying his actions at Silverstone and earlier races, saying that Bee had their full support.
It took everything Bee had to not respond, to ask them why they didn’t do something sooner, but in the end, it wouldn’t help. Nick was out of the series and Bee wouldn’t have to worry about him, and that’s what was important.
In addition to Bee’s schedule being busy, her anxiety had reached a level she had not felt in a long time. She wondered if George had felt like this before Silverstone. He’d at least had the advantage of doing previous FP1 tests for other teams. He’d gotten a test with Force India when they were in GP3, and had done a test with Williams as well. Bee hadn’t been upset or jealous, because George was absurdly talented, even in a way Bee wasn’t.
She made sure she had an appointment with Natalie before she went, because when she was stressed and busy like this, being able to have someone untangle the twisted threads of her mind was always helpful. Plus, Bee had a gift to bring her.
“Before we start, I got you something, to say thank you for help at Silverstone. I think if you weren’t there to calm me down, well… I don’t know what would have happened, but you and Susie both were amazing, even if I was an absolute terror.”
Bee pulled a small gift bag from her backpack and handed it to Natalie.
“Oh!” Natalie said, looking inside. “What’s -” There were three small boxes inside, two were in Mercedes team packaging, and the other plain white.
The two Mercedes boxes were signed mini-helmets, one Valtteri’s, the other Lewis’s.
“Oh! Oh my goodness! Thank you! These are amazing! You know, I got plenty of Mercedes merch during my time there, but I never had anything signed.”
“I managed to hunt both of them down at the factory to sign these for you, but I made the last thing.” Bee said.
The third box was a little larger. Natalie opened it to see a pile of pale white shortbread sandwich cookies, covered in coconut flakes with a stripe of carmel-colored filling between them.
“You made me alfajores?”
Bee nodded. “I'm a horrible cook, but I can bake just fine - the instructions are generally clearer. I wanted to get you something that was from Argentina, but it’s kind of hard to find Argentinian food in Northants, as I’m sure you’re aware, so I looked up how to make these. I’d never heard of them, but I think I did okay. I liked them, at least.” Natalie took a bite of one while Bee watched her nervously. She smiled as she chewed it.
“Well, they’re not my abuela’s, but… they’re still really, really good. I haven’t had alfajores in forever. I missed them.” She closed the box and set it aside. “That’s so nice of you. Thank you for thinking of me, you really shouldn’t have.”
“I had to,” Bee said. “I’m so embarrassed by how I acted, and you weren’t even there to work but you still had to, in a way, so this was the least I could do.”
Before Hungary, Bee also had a meeting with Peter Bonnington, who would be her engineer for her FP1 test. They needed to go over the run plan for her test - discussing the kinds of things they would be having her do during the test, and the setup changes they would make in the course of the 45 minutes they had of the hour and a half test session. Bee was a little bit nervous - Bono was a legend, as much as an engineer could be. He’d been in Formula 1 since Bee was a toddler, and with the Mercedes team before they were even owned by Mercedes. He and Lewis had an amazing rapport, and his ability to keep Lewis calm while delivering crucial information was second-to-none. Bee suspected Lewis would not be nearly as successful as he was if not for Bono, which Lewis had said himself on a few occasions.
Bee stepped into the conference room to see that he was already at the table, a neat pile of notes in front of him.
“All right, Phoebe? He said with a smile as she sat down. “I have to say, I’m glad they tapped me to do your test. I’m excited to work with you.”
They discussed the things she would be doing for her test - simulated starts and qualifying runs, power levels, engine maps and profiles, adjustments they would be making to the car’s configuration as the test progressed. By the end of it, Bee’s head felt overloaded, even though she was doing her best to follow it all. Even driving race cars for a few years couldn’t teach you everything an engineer knew.
“My dad is going to love meeting you.” she said as they were wrapping things up.
“Oh, that’s right, he’s an engineer, isn’t he? Well, he can sit next to me at the engineering desk if he wants. I’m assuming your parents got paddock passes like George’s did for his test.”
“Yup. And he’s gonna love that.”
As they were getting ready to leave the conference room, Bee asked Bono a question she’d been thinking about for a long time.
“Will I get to pick the number I use?”
“Hm?”
“Well, I didn’t think I’d be able to drive it with Lewis’ number on it, and I wasn’t really sure how FP1 drivers pick them.”
“Oh. Well, the FIA has a few temporary numbers they issue teams. We have numbers 19 and 21, so you'd get one of the two. But, out of curiosity, if you could pick - and if you do get to choose someday, which number would you pick?”
Her driver number had always been assigned to her. Teams in lower formulae typically had far more mid-season turnover with drivers, so the number was generally assigned to a car and not a driver. In Formula 2, they were also assigned based on the teams’ standings in the previous season. Her current number was number 2 - Russian Time had won the teams’ championship last year, they were given the numbers 1 and 2, and Artem had seniority on the team, so he was number 1. She didn’t have a favorite number, or a “lucky number” like some people had.
When she thought about it, there was a number that came to mind. She had already checked to make sure it wasn’t already assigned, and hadn’t been retired by F1. Luckily, it seemed that it hadn’t ever been used before.
When she was younger, she always remembered her grandfather saying this sing-songy phrase, one that he’d made up himself. She never understood why he did it. He was always whistling, tapping on things, singing, drumming his fingers - it was all just a collection of nervous habits, so it was just one of those weird Grandpa things, and it always got stuck in Bee’s head after she spent time with him.
“Daniel Leo, class of fif-tee-oh.”
Always in the same rhythm and cadence. The little song referred to the fact that he, Daniel Leo Stallard, had graduated from high school in the year 1950.
After all, without her grandfather’s love of motorcycles and racing them in fallow hay fields with his friends, her father might not have ever developed his fascination with machinery as a kid from watching his father work on his Harley-Davidson in the garage. Then he might not have ever gotten into engineering or racing, and she wouldn’t have watched racing with him as a kid, fostering a desire to race herself. It was a legacy of sorts, and look where it had led? She was about to drive a Formula One car during a race weekend. So that was it. She would be the number 50.
“Oh. Well, if and when I ever get to pick, I’d probably go with the number 50.”
“That’s a good one,” Bono said. “A nice round number. I don’t think that one’s ever been used since drivers could choose their own, come to that.”
“Hopefully there’s not some decades-old racing curse attached to it.” Bee said.
Bono laughed. “Not that I know of.”
The Hungaroring, Mogyoród, Pest County, Hungary
July 27th, 2018
The day of Bee’s test arrived. She felt like she didn’t sleep at all the night before. She was too excited. During the week, she felt like she’d had too much to do and it wouldn’t ever get done - making sure her suit fit and was updated with all of the current sponsors, having a new helmet painted, having a seat fitted and made, passing an FIA-mandated jump test to make sure she could get out of the car quickly in case of emergency (she much preferred self-extraction, having experienced the other option before), making sure her racing license was cleared for FP1 testing as she didn’t have her Super License quite yet - there was a lot of little pieces that needed to come together before someone can even put one foot into a Formula One car, even if only part of a single 90-minute test session.
Her parents flew out to Hungary on Thursday morning (once again, Bee paid for their flight and accommodations, which still felt good. It probably would never not feel good). The Stallards and the Wolffs all went out for dinner on Thursday night, and Bee went to bed as early as possible, not that it helped. It would be an ungodly busy day - she had F2 practice straight after her F1 session, so she wouldn’t be running the entire session, then qualifying, and then maybe a press conference if she was lucky.
She also had to do press before FP1 - she wasn’t sure why, but it was likely something to do with the situation she found herself in as the first woman to participate in an F1 weekend in a while, something that was clarified when Will Buxton interviewed her for the Formula 1 channels.
“So, Phoebe -” he said, “You’re about to supplant Susie Wolff as the most recent woman to take part in a Grand Prix weekend in four years. She’s been a mentor to you for many years now, even before you switched from Red Bull’s junior program to Mercedes’ two years ago. How does that make you feel? Have the two of you talked about this?”
Bee wasn’t surprised by the question. It had come up a bit in the press, they were trying to push some “student surpasses the master” narrative between her and Susie, but it just wasn’t the reality of their relationship. Whatever made for more compelling articles, though.
“We have talked about it quite a bit. I don’t think she ever really wanted the honor of being the last one in such a long period of time, or the first. I don’t, either. I know I’m about to be the most recent woman to complete an F1 session, but I’ll be thrilled when the next one comes along, just like Susie is thrilled for me. I hope it doesn’t take four more years. I think it’s a shame that there hasn’t been a woman to complete any session between her time with Williams as a development driver and my time with Mercedes as one, but for both of us, I think, we’re trying to be as visible as possible as women in motorsport, so girls can see that they can have a future in racing if they want to. That way, someday, there might be a time where being a woman participating as an F1 driver isn’t something newsworthy.”
“And about the incident that occured at Silverstone - were you surprised that Nick Bonacchi was released from his team?”
Bee had to be delicate, she definitely could not say what she actually had wanted to. That would give the Mercedes PR team a lot of extra work over the weekend.
“I understand that he was let go due to contractual issues between his sponsor and his team, rather than the crash. I… wish they had been able to take some earlier action, but there may have been some inter-team issues that prevented that, I’m not sure. But, I appreciate their message of support for me on their social media channels.”
What she had wanted to say was, hell no, I’m not surprised, it was a long time coming and if the FIA and his team were worth a damn, they’d have done something a lot sooner. She wasn’t at the stage of her career yet where she could be quite so candid. Maybe one day.
She left the media pen to go back to the garage and get ready. It wouldn’t be long now.
She got changed into her Mercedes suit. It felt strange, looking down and seeing herself in the white fireproofs and overalls. She’d worn it for sim testing, but it still felt different. She stepped out of the room they let her use to change in, out into the garage, where everyone seated at the back engineering station - Susie, Toto, her parents, and Bono - all looked up at her.
“Well? What do you think?” Bee said, not sure of what else to say.
Her mom looked like she was about to cry, but immediately demanded pictures, like most moms would. She got one with Toto, one with Susie, one with her dad, and one with both of her parents that Toto took for them. George had come into the garage during all this, and Josephine insisted on getting a picture of him and Phoebe, too.
“I remember when you two were in Formula Renault and Formula 3 together! You’re so much taller now, but you were such a cute kid.” she said to George. Phoebe wanted to die of embarrassment on the spot, but George took it with good humor. His parents had said hello to her and chatted with her a bit in Silverstone; she didn’t end up in the family pictures.
Soon enough, Bono told her it was time. She gave her parents, Toto, and Susie one last hug.
“Listen,” Susie said, her hands on both of Bee’s shoulders after they embraced. Her head was close to Bee’s, and she was speaking quietly, so only Bee could hear her. “I’m so proud of you. I knew this day would come, and this is just your first step. You’re going to be incredible. You’ve worked so hard for this, and it’s paying off. Just remember, take deep breaths and visualize the racing line all the way around the track before you take off.”
“I couldn’t have done it without you. This is all for you.” Bee said to her before turning towards where Bono was waiting.
She put her headset in her ears, pulled on her balaclava and gloves, and put on her helmet. She stepped up onto the stepstool, then down into the car, hanging from the halo a little bit as she folded her legs into the nose. The mechanics did some adjustments around her seat and put her harness on her, making sure it was snug all the way around. It was strange having so many mechanics buzzing around the car at once, her team at RT only really had four of them.
“Radio check, Phoebe.” Bono’s voice said in her ear.
“Loud and clear.” Phoebe said.
“Okay, excellent. We’re going to get going here in just a second and give you a reconnaissance lap to get a handle on things. Don’t worry about full speed or power right away, just go at a pace you’re comfortable with, we’ll go through our run plan after that. Just treat it like it’s another day in the sim.”
“Bit higher stakes than the sim, though.” Bee said. She was trying not to envision herself doing something like mixing up the brake and throttle or spinning out and hitting the pitlane wall as soon as she pulled out of the garage.
“You’ll be fine. I’ll be with you the whole way.”
Finally, she was ready. She held her breath as she launched the car from the garage into the pit lane. She took the length of the pitlane to find the balance of the throttle and shifting. Even as she went out on the reconnaissance lap, she found that George was not kidding. She wasn’t even running at full power and it was already a completely different feel to her F2 car. It was nothing like she ever felt.
“Okay, Phoebe, let’s go ahead and get started with the run plan once you come over the line.” Bono said.
She got started putting the car through its paces, increasing the power gradually. It was definitely more of a physical experience. As she got into the corners, she definitely felt it in her neck. Accelerating in the straights, she felt the gravity right in her chest. Compared to her F2 car, she felt like she could absolutely whip the car around the corners and it would not budge - it was so responsive and grippy. It was everything she expected and more. She did another few laps, her times were dropping.
“Okay, Phoebe, box, box for softs.” Bono said, telling her to come into the pits so they could change her tires to a softer rubber compound. Softer tires were stickier, and gave the car more grip as they adhered to the track more.
Oh boy. They’d sent her out on medium compound tires. They probably didn’t dare send her out on the ultrasofts they’d brought for the weekend, but that was fine - she thought that would be too much.
“Copy.”
She headed into the pits, afraid she would miss the mark and run over the jackman, but she managed fine. A 3-second pit stop and she was off again, trying to drop her lap times more. The soft tires made a huge difference. Her neck was getting noticeably sore, but she wasn’t going to let it stop her.
“Power, power, power, apex, brake, brake, brake, power, power, slower through the chicane...” she thought to herself, almost like a mantra.
Finally, they had her run a simulated start launch and some simulated qualifying runs.
By the time she pulled back into the garage, she was a mess. She was drenched with sweat, but giddy and breathless. She was on top of the world. Her lap times were respectable - not amazing, but respectable, and she didn’t turn Lewis Hamilton’s car into a multimillion dollar trash heap, which was really her main goal for the session.
Once the car was parked and turned off, she released her wheel and harness and climbed back out of the car as she peeled off her helmet and balaclava and took her earphones out. Without her helmet and earphones, she could hear that the garage had exploded with cheers. There were a ton of cameras, more than she’d expected. Someone in the viewing gallery was holding up a poster board that said “Go Super Bee” with a cartoon bumble bee on it that had braided pigtails. Someone else had an American flag. It was so bizarre. It felt like she’d stepped out of the car and into a dream.
She got hugs from seemingly everyone in the garage. Her mom was crying. Susie was even crying a little, which was something she’d thought she’d never see. She started crying. Her dad looked so proud of her. It was a lot. The environment was absolutely electric. It was, so far, the best day of her life.
Next Chapter
#f1 fanfic#f1 oc fanfic#formula 1 fanfic#original character#female oc#female f1 driver#toto wolff#george russell#my fanfic#series: wildest dreams#will buxton#peter bonnington
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Oooohhhhh ROYALTY AU, please tell!
YAY I'm so happy you asked about this one @witchygirl99 and @liz8080!! Thank you! ❤️ ❤️
This is one of those stories that all started with one scene. It randomly popped into my brain while listening to a dark enemies-to-lovers/“falling in love with the villian” playlist on YouTube. Then I started to build a world and story around that.
Kagome is a princess with spiritual power, and her family/kingdom has guarded the Sacred Jewel for centuries.
After her father (the king) died a couple of years ago, her mother takes on the stress of making sure there will be a successor to guard the jewel. Kagome and her cousin Kikyo are the only ones left in the family who have spiritual powers, and neither have any interest in marrying/producing heirs.
Inuyasha is sort of a prince, but also a bastard, and his parents were tortured and killed during a mysterious attack on their castle when he was young. He now is (unwillingly) a knight in Naraku’s kingdom, because he took in the survivors after the attack (there’s a lot more to this whole dynamic where Naraku has an element of control over Inuyasha, but I don’t want to spoil too much!)
I still haven’t figured out the exact catalyst for bringing Inuyahsa and Kagome together (can’t decide if I want it to be an arranged courting/marriage prospect type of situation yet), but the eventual idea is that Kagome believes Inuyasha to be an enemy (or at least questions it) after they’ve already built up some feelings for each other. But shit eventually goes down and she decides to trust him and they work together to bring down evil/fall in love along the way
I still have some large gaps to figure out, and I haven't actually written much for this yet, but below the cut is a (still pretty rough writing-wise) snippet of the scene that inspired it all!
Full list of WIPs here
“Dammit, Kagome, I’m not your fucking enemy!” Inuyasha growled, taking a large step closer to her without breaking eye contact. She didn’t so much as flinch, even lowered her bow and arrow to her side, but the anger and wariness remained etched into her expression.
He couldn’t fucking stand it.
He was used to not being trusted. Most people automatically regarded him as a threat, especially those who believed the rumors about Naraku. Not that he could blame them. How were they supposed to know that he had no real choice over the despicable company he kept?
But it had always been that way for him, long before Naraku came along. Being the bastard half-breed child of a mighty king had marked him as an outcast from birth. Even his own half-brother had despised him. Every bad thing that happened in his vicinity was always blamed on him, no one ever believed his side of the story, and even those who didn’t outright look down on him still kept a healthy distance.
He may have been used to it…but something about Kagome seeing him in that light just didn’t sit well with him. Worse than that, it tore him apart from the inside, and he was overcome with a desperate need to let her in on his true intentions, to show her his truest self. He had never met someone who seemed to genuinely care for him the way she did, who let their guard down around him, who even shed tears for his sake.
The fact that he had come to crave her company so much was absolutely terrifying, but in that moment he was finally able to admit it to himself. For the first time, outside of revenge, he truly wanted something.
He wanted her.
“Well, then, what are you?!” Kagome finally asked with a twinge of exasperation. “Because I —”
Throwing all caution to the wind, Inuyasha closed the distance between them, grasped her cheeks between his palms, and kissed her.
The pressure of his lips was firm, but his grip on her jaw was feather-light, leaving her the opportunity to step away if she wanted to. After hearing her surprised gasp and feeling her go still with shock, he was convinced that she was about to do just that. But to his surprise, she reciprocated only a moment later, and with a clatter that echoed throughout the jewel room, her bow fell to the floor as her arms wrapped around his back to pull him closer.
And just like that, a fire erupted inside of him unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Right and wrong no longer held meaning, because he hadn’t known what right truly felt like before Kagome’s lips had pressed against his own.
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Who's That Voice?
Technology is an ever-present and highly integrated part of normal living. Through advancements in technology, everyday activities have been made simpler, easier, faster, and, for some people, functional. Personal assistants make lists and set reminders that you would otherwise forget to complete. People are able to connect with one another regardless of the distance between them. Communication between people has been made considerably easier with language apps teaching or translating words into various tongues. People can talk to computers and their phones to help write messages when typing is not convenient or possible, but what happens when you try to make a computer talk?
Text-to-Speech software has a long history of attempting to reproduce the human voice, with the first computer-based program being traced back as early as the 1950s. These early computer programs would sound incredibly robotic as human speech is very complicated. There are a lot of different and variable factors that come into play during speech. Rithesh Kumar, who leads Overdub Research at Descript, explains that “every human has a unique voice texture, words and sentences can be spoken in countless ways, and audio is fundamentally noisy and unstructured” (Hamer, 2022). Despite early difficulties, speech synthesis has been able to grow incredibly accurate with the help of artificial intelligence. Conversion software analyzes the input text to determine pitch, tone, and pronunciation. Complex algorithms look at sentences and consider the context, syntax, and punctuation before creating the sound waves to play back as speech. These programs have been expanded to include being able to produce speech in multiple languages, especially helpful for businesses looking to expand services across the globe. Despite occasional inaccuracies in speech replication, this technology is still incredibly useful because of its multitude of uses, including fostering accessibility. “It can be used for virtual assistants, chatbots for customer service, audiobooks, and podcasts. People who have trouble seeing or reading can use TTS technology to listen to text read by a natural voice” (Besa, 2023). Technology to provide accessibility attempts to bridge the gap between an individual and the environment that is created by disability. The most thought of scenario regarding accessibility and individuals that are vision impaired is including alternative text on images. This text allows screen readers to describe the images and help the blind and low vision navigate through digital experiences.
When the digital experience is made reality, transformations are made in the creation of art and music. In the digital music industry, voice synthesizing software was forever changed by Vocaloid. This technology recreates the action of singing by using voicebanks, which are saved voice recordings that are blended to form words and syllables. In order to create a song using this technology, lyrics and an instrumental melody are input into a computer. The vocals can be adjusted to sound however is best for the project. The technology became commercially available in 2004 but poor marketing, design, presentation, and the robotic sounding voices led them to perform poorly. Even being taken over by another company and upgrades in the software did not help the technology appeal to consumers. Then three years later in 2007, with the release of Hatsune Miku, Vocaloid began to rise in popularity.
Hatsune Miku is the character created for the voicebank containing the Japanese phonetic syllabary voiced by voice actress Saki Fujita. Miku’s voicebank contained smoother and clearer vocals than previous Vocaloids because the phonetic changes in Japanese pronunciation are predictable. She is depicted as a young girl with long blue pigtails, but her personality can be shaped however the customer wants. Miku’s versatile personality and pitch allows music producers to place her vocals on different tracks and change the vocal range to better capture the mood of the songs. The record-breaking popularity of Hatsune Miku has inspired the creation of other Vocaloids and the use of Vocaloid songs in games, animations, and art. These virtual pop stars also sing and perform their music on stage in front of live audiences as holograms. Despite being a technological breakthrough, Vocoloids and Hatsune Miku have had a positive influence in the lives of countless fans. Voice synthesis technology allows musicians to express their deepest emotions, telling meaningful stories that encompass all experiences in life from love and accomplishment to darker moments wrapped in pain.
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Send a word or the name of a place, and the mun will write out a scene from their muse’s memories of that word or place.
𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 - @𝐄𝐔𝐃𝐀𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐥𝟒
📁: 2022年
💁🏻♀️: @𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐳
TW: death & car accident ( flashback )
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a whole year has passed since natsuki had stepped foot into their family house, the last time dating back in 2021 after she had met a gruesome fate on christmas eve the prior year and had to live within the confinements of where she once endured a suffocating life. it was still fresh in her memory how much of a scum people are and how jealousy and greed could drive them to a point of no return by going out of their morals to inflict pain and trauma on innocent lives just to pose a threat or seek revenge. an involuntary shudder coursed through as her mind produced flashbacks of skidding cars, her trustworthy driver throwing himself on her like a shield as tinted glasses lost their purpose and shattered into countless pieces that drew out an endless pool of rouge and left with just only one breathing survivor.
natsuki.
haeun must have sensed the shift in natsuki’s aura, the warm and assuring hand squeeze pulled her out of stupor. she turned to face her best friend and mustered a weak smile, pair of chocolate brown eyes communicating that she will be okay. the other lady did not seem convinced but thankfully, haeun dropped the issue for now. something natsuki was grateful for. her best friend had been a constant support in her life which propelled her to disclose all that it was about her, how she was raised and what type of life she had before seoul happened. their early summer trip to japan proving to not just be a bonding experience filled with dainty cafés, scrumptious local food, and trips to nurture their inner child but to also rekindle and strengthen the ties that were once tested through time.
back then, she deemed it disrespectful to believe how a tragic car accident had been a blessing in disguise. how the despondent aftermath at the cost of takahashi’s death managed to still bear fruit for natsuki and her parents to reconcile with a string of apologies and regrets on how their family never got the opportunity to be real. such dawning realization opened up to second chances of starting all over.
better late than never, as they would say. the late takahashi would have said the same.
i hope you are in a much happier and safer place now, taka-san! i hope that our current situation is making you happy up there, too. you had always wanted all of us to get along, didn’t you? it is still a bit awkward because well …yeah … but, we are getting there. i promise.
natsuki glanced up at the sky, the nervousness that wrapped around her earlier slowly fading into the wind. heaun’s gentle caresses on her back spoke of reassurance and natsuki could not help but to melt under her touch, tensed shoulders loosening up and her features drawing up a look of nostalgia and yearning. it will be fine. they will all be fine. life is a learning process and even if past mistakes could never be undone, accepting one’s faults and striving to fix them as they venture forward is what matters more. she turned to haeun who simply flashed her a smile, one that spoke ‘i will be here for you’, her head jerking to the side to encourage natsuki to finally ring the bell.
the door opened and surprise splashed across natsuki’s face when it was her mother who came all the way to the entrance to greet them and her father trailed a few steps behind. both wore a smile on their lips, their eyes glistened in warmth, a feeling that used to be something so foreign to her but now had instantly engulfed her with love.
“お帰り (welcome back), natsuki.”
their voices which held violence a long time ago were now as soft and endearing as a feather, hinted with the same amount of nervousness natsuki felt earlier.
a tender push on her back and she carefully stepped forward to bridge the gap between two worlds. haeun remained on her spot, watching over them in anticipation. natsuki’s lips began to quiver and transparent pearls formed at the corners of her eyes.
“ただいま！(i’m home).”
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The Garden Thief (M)
Pairing: Jungkook x Reader
Word Count: 9.3K
Genre: Hybrid AU, romance/drama/comedy, enemies to lovers
Warnings: Unprotected sex, oral sex (fem. rec.), they get down and dirty outside but no one else is there to see them, cum play? (just a little), there’s also a bit of mud (sorry, but also not sorry, they’re outside what do you want from me?!?!), referenced hybrid neglect and oppression (hybrids are wrongfully deemed as pets by law and the majority of society).
Summary: Your beloved vegetable patch has once again been victimized by a hungry thief in the night. The prime suspect? Jeon Jungkook, your neighbour's rabbit hybrid. But when you finally confront him, he pleads innocent, and proposes a plan to clear his name.
A/N: I wrote this fic’s premise and opening scene for the ‘A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words Game’ that I played oh so long ago and now I’ve finally finished the tale!
...
“Oh for fuck’s sake, not again!” You swear upon seeing the leafy green remains of several carrots lying in your garden, inches from where they used to be buried. This maddening mystery of the vanishing vegetables has been playing out all summer. You’ve set out deterrents for every possible garden pest, rolling out chicken wire and spraying natural remedies to repel anything from bugs to small rodents. Yet you still wake to find that your garden has been robbed in the night. The only possible suspect you haven’t been able to protect against resides just next door, in fact—
You squint up at the boarded fence, spotting a pair of long dark ears peeking out over the posts. “Jungkook, is that you?”
The ears immediately disappear, ducking down behind the barrier. The sound of his hurried footsteps trailing away are followed only by the slamming of a door.
You rush into and through your own house carrying the wilted carrot greens. Exiting out the front, and over to the house next to yours, where you repeatedly press the bell.
The entry whips open on the fourth ring to reveal Jungkook. His face is flushed, beads of sweat racing down his brow, and a shirt that one would normally use to cover their chest, is instead thrown over his shoulder. “Something wrong neighbour?” He asks with a carrot stick in hand. Bringing it to his mouth, he taunts you with a bite and crooked grin.
“Is-is your caretaker home?” You stutter trying your best to swallow your nerves. Concentrating hard on his face, you plead with your eyes not to wander down. That’s exactly what he wants, a reason to put you off your mission, to make you so flustered that you have to walk away. He’s always trying to use his allure against you, and you hate how often he succeeds doing just that...
“No, he’s at work.”
“When will he be back?”
“Not sure, maybe a week, or two? He’s on a business trip.”
Your gaze falters in it’s determination for a brief second as a drop of sweat descends from his neck to his chest. Holding your breath you watch it’s path, tracing the valleys between his muscles. When Jungkook finally wipes it away your brain catches up and scolds you for your weakness. “And he left you here, alone?” You ask, while trying to recollect your dignity, reminding yourself of how much grief he has put you through.
“Of course.” Jungkook’s smile grows. “I’m not just some common pet. I know how to behave myself.”
The statement makes your brow twitch, enraging you enough to overcome his tactics. “I know you haven’t been here long, but you should know, people typically don’t like it when someone steals from their yard.” You lecture him, waving the carrot tops in front of his face. “So stop treating my garden like your own personal snack bar!”
“Now why would I take from you? I have plenty of food here, even got another delivery this morning.” The hybrid kicks at a box next him filled with a vibrant collection of fresh produce and grains.
“I don’t know why. I just know it was you.”
“Prove it.” He prods, while taking the last bite of the vegetable from his hand.
The loud crunching gnaws on your composure, stripping you of any patience you may have had for the hybrid. “This all started when you moved in, and I’ve ruled everything else out!” You shout, but as good as it might feel to finally vent your anger, you feel as though you’re somehow playing into his hand.
“That doesn’t seem like very good evidence. It’s circumstantial at best. If you want to find out who the real culprit is you should have a stake out.”
“A stake out?”
“Yeah, you know, watch over the garden for the night, catch the criminal in the act. I could even help if you’d like.”
You scoff at the ridiculous notion. “You really think I should invite you over to guard my crops?”
“I do, so I’ll come over tonight? Say around seven?” You open your mouth to object, but the rabbit hybrid jumps from one statement to the next casually inviting himself into your own home. “Perfect. See you then.”
“I didn’t-no wait, that was sar-” The door closes between you before you can finish. Leaving you baffled and alone on the doorstep. You ready to knock but stop just before your knuckles hit the wood. Trying again right now is a lost cause, it’ll just play into his game. So why waste your breath when you know it’ll just end the same way? Tonight then, as he suggested, that’s when you’ll be ready to hit him with some hard evidence that he won’t be able to refute.
Admitting defeat for now, you retreat back to your garden to pick the surviving vegetables and contemplate the encounter. You wish your could have just spoken to Jungkook’s caretaker—fuck what was his name again? You’ve only seen the man a couple times since they took the house, but at least he doesn't give you a nervous knot in your stomach, or leave you confused and speechless like his hybrid does.
It’s been three months since they moved in. You were excited at first, to have new neighbours in your almost vacant cul-de-sac. Buyers don’t seem to be interested in the old houses with large lots in your area. Too much work to maintain, and not enough good job prospects to go around. So when you saw the sold sign go up you were beyond thrilled. Greeting the new residents with a fruit basket and a smile.
The rabbit hybrid you now know as Jungkook appeared rather shy at first, you did your best to welcome him. Always greeting him when he was outside, trying to engage him in small chat, but the first time you caught him during his workout everything changed. Until that point you had not considered him as anything but a prospective friend. You were stunned to see him in such a confident state, throwing around his weights like they were nothing. In that moment, with you too nervous to admit that you found him attractive, you became the anxious and blubbering fool in his presence, and he, unfortunately, took note. The once quiet and cute rabbit, became a flirtatious and bratty bunny.
And since then, whenever you would work in your garden he’d be on the other side of the fence grunting and panting. Staying close to the gap in the divider, a missing panel you had yet to replace. On days like today you would often look up from your radishes and accidentally lock eyes with the hybrid, drenched in sweat and showing off his skills.
Out of respect and self preservation you tried your best to not to pay attention, to keep your nose buried in your garden, but as the weeks went by the vegetables under your care started to disappear. The ample crops you tended to in the evening, lessened by morning, with only the refuse remaining to indicate it’s former presence. You didn’t want to point fingers immediately, but today was the final straw, and tonight no matter how hard he tries to distract you, you will find him guilty.
After harvesting the choice crops for the day and watering the rest. You dust yourself off, settling inside and in front of your computer; opening the visitors page for your place of work, the city's greenhouse conservatory. To help promote the centre in the community the staff all take turns writing articles revolving around their own projects or home gardens, and you’re up next in the rotation. You stare at the blank document for several minutes trying your best to concentrate on the task, but you are unable to think of anything other than the mischievous hybrid next door.
Embracing the topic of your aggravation, you start the post off with a title sure to catch the eye of any reader, ‘Garden Thieves.’
‘We’ve all been there, finding a tomato just about to reach its peak ripeness. We give it another day to grow into perfection, only to find it missing later on. In your absence something else has taken it into its own clutches. I myself have been dealing with a vegetable thief for several weeks, so if you are struggling like I am, here are a few things that might help. ’
You proceed to outline several garden pests uploading photos of their damage, along with quick remedies to deter their presence. Netting to block the sparrows, raised beds and fences to keep out most rodents or mammals, and a caffeine solution to stave off slugs.
‘I hope this may help you all in your efforts to keep your plants safe, but I must add a disclaimer. Unfortunately nothing here is completely foolproof. Even if you do follow all of these steps you still might lose some of your crops to a crafty critter. But I wish you the best of luck on all of your backyard battles. I myself plan to face off with my own long-eared menace tonight.’
You finish your post with a smile. Sending it off to your coworker Namjoon to get his approval before you make it public.
He calls a few minutes later, his laughter carrying through the speaker. “That was easily the best article you’ve written all year. You should definitely post it.”
“Thanks.” You chuckle, hitting the submit button. At the very least feeling a bit relieved to have one less task weighing on your mind. “I really appreciate it.”
“No problem. I take it you’re still having trouble with that hybrid neighbour of yours?”
“Yeah,” you groan. You’ve complained to Namjoon about the issue several times in the past month. It must have been all too easy for him to read between the lines and see what set you off to create this specific entry. “But he refuses to admit it was him. It’s like he’s trying to make me question my skills as a gardener and I hate it! I went over to talk to his caretaker but he’s away on business for a couple weeks.”
“He left him alone for that long? What about food?”
“He’s been getting deliveries. By the looks of it, he has a healthier diet than I do.”
Namjoon pauses on the line giving you only a simple, “Huh...” in a long break.
“What?”
“Well it’s just-” A loud buzzing sound erupts through the phone line cutting off his answer. A noise you know to indicate someone is at the back door. “That’s weird. I didn’t think we were supposed to get anything delivered today. No one else is here.... did you have anything scheduled to come in?”
“No.” You double check the calendar sitting on your desk. “I shouldn’t have anything until next Monday.”
Namjoon puts you on hold while he checks on the reason for the interruption, returning only a minute later. “It’s a delivery all right, but are you sure these aren’t yours? I’m seeing a lot of tropical species on the invoice. Combretum rotundifolium, Heliconia angusta, Myrciaria dubia-”
You mouth a swear as Namjoon carries on with his list. It’s obvious they are indeed the specimens of your expected batch. You're in the process of redesigning one of the tropical habitats. The lead director was adamant that the conservatory host a butterfly exhibition in the next coming year, and in order to support the grandiose endeavour you are required to introduce a vast amount of new flowering species over the next few months. “How many in total?”
“About two dozen. Looking pretty rough from the journey too.”
You’re not surprised by their current state. This summer is already one of the hottest and driest on record, and all the stock you had received this season was excessively wilted and near death because of it. “Do we have any holding houses with humidifiers available?”
“Not at the moment,” There’s a clatter in the background as Namjoon sorts through what must be the slack of clipboards. “But I’ve got the inspection chart here and your last delivery did just finish it’s quarantine. No signs of pests or illness, so they’re clear to plant. That should free up some space for you.”
“That’ll have to do. Thanks for checking.” Standing up from your desk with a sorrowful sigh. You mourn the loss or your afternoon off as you start to dress for a day of hard labour. Throwing on your work-issued overalls over your t-shirt and shorts. Unfortunately you can’t just leave the new stock to sit out under the beating sun. With little humidity outside and no protection they’ll be burnt to a crisp if you delay too long. But the worst part is that your planting staff isn’t scheduled until later in the week, and that volume of work will put you well into the middle of the night before you complete it. “I’ll be in soon to deal with it.”
“That’s a lot of planting to do on your own. I can help if you-”
“I can’t take you away from your trees, isn’t there a bonsai exhibition next week you have to prepare them for?” He’s been agonizing over this showcase for so long you couldn’t possibly inconvenience him now with your own troubles. “It’s fine, really. I’ll call to see if anyone else is willing to come in today.” You hang up letting Namjoon return to his tasks, and work your way down the contacts for the gardening staff as you prepare yourself to leave. Though as expected, all of those who answer have prior commitments and won’t be able to assist.
Grabbing your badge and plans for the updates to the garden you slip back out into the noon-day sun, so strong it’s turned your car into an oven on wheels. You’re just about to pull it into reverse when you spot the blinds shift in your neighbour’s window. Prompting you to recall the plans he had made for tonight.
With all the work you have, it’s doubtful you’ll be back home for seven. You return to Jungkook’s door to give him the news. He has it open before you can even knock, his usual smirk crawling across his face as he greets you.
“About tonight... something has come up at work and I really don’t know how late I’ll be.”
His ears perk up. “You’re going into the conservatory?”
“Yeah,” you respond, somewhat shocked that he remembered where you work. It’s been a couple months since you mentioned it while introducing yourself to him and his caretaker. “An order came in earlier than expected. I’ll likely be planting all day and night.”
“I can help,” he offers, already stepping out to join you, and locking the door behind him.
“You want to help?”
“Of course, isn’t that the neighbourly thing to do?”
“Yes, but I wouldn’t want it or expect it from someone who terrorizes my own garden.”
“Allegedly,” Jungkook corrects. “And wouldn’t you rather have me with you, under your supervision, than here, all alone with only a measly fence between me and your impressive bell pepper harvest?”
“Stay away from my peppers!” You scold, pointing your finger at him. “Even if I wanted to take you, what about your caretaker? Don’t you need his permission to leave and work?”
“He’s never paid attention to my whereabouts before, and it’s not work if you don’t pay me. I’ll just be a volunteer. You have people volunteer all the time right?”
“Yes but-”
“I’ll be on my best behaviour.”
“Alright, fine.” You finally agree though with a heavy dose of reluctance. Namjoon often brings his own hybrid in so it shouldn’t be a problem. “But if I see you nibble on even a single leaf, you’re coming straight back here.”
“Deal.” He rushes past you straight to your passenger seat and buckles himself in. Practically bouncing with excitement beside you as you pull out and head towards the conservatory.
The minutes pass and you try your best to focus on the road but you’ve never been so close to Jungkook in such a small space. And with his built frame taking up most of the car, he’s hard for you to ignore. His ears folded against the roof and his shoulders so wide they brush repeatedly against yours.
“Ever been to the conservatory before?” You ask, trying to divert your mind from the battle which builds inside you. A wavering war between frustration and attraction, with the former trying it’s best to pin down the latter, a move which only arouses the latter more...
“No, I’ve wanted to go ever since you mentioned it but my caretaker hasn’t had the time.”
“Oh.” A sense of pity joins the ranks of your emotions, nudging at you as you pull into the lot. “Sorry, I didn’t-”
“Why are you sorry?” Jungkook asks in a low whisper, snapping back to his flirtatious behaviours. His mouth turns up at the corner as he leans into you, so close that his drooping ears graze the top of your head. “Would you have taken me earlier if I had mentioned it?”
“N-no,” you choke out. Placing your hand on his solid chest, you push him back and away. As tempting as his advance might be to accept, you know his forwardness to be nothing more than an act to make a fool of you. Why else would he try to both seduce you, and steal from right under your nose? “You’re only here today because I am in desperate need of help, and I can’t trust you to be alone.”
...
You lead him through the unoccupied greenhouses. The conservation is closed to the public today (as it is every Monday and Tuesday); which usually allows for some time off, but at least now it’ll give you a chance to work unimpeded by visitors. Your own curated section is located in the most humid of all the houses, set in such a way to mimic the tropical environment you are attempting to represent.
The first stop is the holding house where the carts of new stock wait just outside. Grabbing an empty trolly you enter and start to load up those that are ready to plant. Jungkook following your actions does the same, easily lifting the heavy planters that you yourself struggle with. “Thanks,” you whisper as he relieves you of a particularly burdensome tree. To which he smiles in return.
After making the switch, by placing the recent delivery in the house for it’s quarantine, you lead him to the supply closet. Where you collect a couple shovels, trowels, and two pairs of gloves. As you continue to scan for anything else you might require, Jungkook pops in behind looking at the shelves with a sense of curiosity. He reaches up and over you to a spray bottle labeled ‘slug repellent.’
“We won’t need that, it’s for the outdoor gardens,” You explain. “It’s just a mixture of ca-”
“Caffeine and water?”
You snap your gaze to him. “How do you know that?”
He bites his lip as a snicker starts to escape. “Just a bit of morning reading. I found an interesting article with that particular tidbit. One which also happened to reference the exploits of a long-eared menace.”
“Y-you read the conservatory blog? You read my post? No one reads that, there can’t have been more than ten views!”
“Which is such a shame.” He goads you. “I’ve found your work to be both informative and comical. You really have me rooting for you in your quest to catch your thief.”
You groan in utter fury. “Why must you be so-so-”
“Handsome? Funny? Caring?”
“Antagonizing!”
“Because you seem to take more notice when I am.” Jungkook answers, with a turn of his heel, his tail poking out from under his shirt as he starts to walk away with the cart. “And I like seeing that perplexed look of yours. Your nose is cute when you scrunch it up like that.”
You remain in the shed, your traitorous heart beating erratically over the fact that he called a part of you cute. While your more sensible side grabs your nose and smooths out the wrinkles he referenced.
“Should we get to work?” He calls out after you. “The sooner we finish, the sooner we can go home and expose that bandit of yours.”
You roll your eyes and follow him out, before taking the lead to your tropical glasshouse. The air sticks to your skin the moment you enter. Jungkook lets out a long exhale behind you tugging on the collar of his shirt. “Is it always like this in here?”
“It’s a bit warmer today, but not by much. Are you already regretting your decision to help?” You tease him.
“Nope,” he answers, slinging a shovel over his shoulder. “Show me where to dig, and I’ll get to it.”
Pulling out your plans for the new exhibit arrangement, you select a couple species placing them on the empty plots of garden as directed, careful to allow for future growth. Jungkook follows behind digging out their new homes faster than at least three of your staff members combined.
You stare at him for a second, unable to believe the pace at which he’s going. “Something wrong?” He asks, pausing to lock eyes with you.
“No, I just didn’t think you’d be so quick at digging.”
“I’m part rabbit, what did you expect?” Jungkook boasts with a chuckle and a raised brow. “I share their strengths. Especially when it comes to burrowing and fu-”
His words are cut short when a fresh breeze from the outside washes over the both of you, a sure sign that someone must have entered the greenhouse. Your neighbour goes rigid, his nose lifts into the air and his ears fall back flat against his head. “Jungkook what’s-” Leaping up he closes the gap and grabs you. Tucking you into him with his chin resting on your head, where a warm and earthy scent envelopes you. His breaths are quick and deep, causing his chest to rapidly rise and fall against your back.
Namjoon’s voice calls out to you. “... are you in here?”
“Over here!” You yell out in reply, before turning back to the hybrid who still has you locked in his clutches. “What the hell Jungkook? Let me go! Now’s not the time for your games.” Sure it might feel nice to be wrapped in his arms, to get lost amidst his aroma. At any other time you might even consider taking a moment before chastising his boldness. But here? Now? And with Namjoon coming to greet you? No, this is too much.
You try to push him away like you have before, but this time it’s as if he’s set in stone, and not registering you at all. He focuses only on the direction your coworker's voice hailed from. “That scent, he smells like-”
“There you are.” Namjoon interrupts stepping around a flowering bush and into view, looking surprised by your guest. “Oh, hello there.”
The point of Jungkook's chin rubs against your head as he grips you even tighter. Embarrassed and confused by the hybrids embrace. “Jungkook, this is Namjoon.” You introduce your coworker while delivering an elbow to Jungkook’s gut. He finally snaps out of his trace and lets you go though he continues to hover behind. “He works with the bonsai of the conservatory.”
“You must be the neighbour I’ve heard so much about, it’s nice to finally meet you.” Namjoon extends his hand to the hybrid, but Jungkook ignores the gesture, choosing to glare instead, with his nostrils flared and his ears pinned back.
“Jungkook?” You whisper trying to chase him from his mood.
Namjoon gives him a nervous smile. “You probably smell my hybrid, on me don’t you?”
“A hybrid?” Jungkook confirms, his eyes narrowed at Namjoon.
“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t intend to scare you. I’m sure the scent of a predator, especially a tiger, is a bit of a shock. He’s harmless, I promise.”
“Is Taehyung here?” You ask, hoping to see his affectionate part-feline companion.
“Nah, he’s with a friend today. I needed to get some work done and he’d be more of a distraction than a help... but it would seem that didn’t stop him from scenting my shirt before I left.” Namjoon explains, and then turns to your neighbour again. “Jungkook would you mind if I borrow her for a second? I need help with one of my tropical species.”
Jungkook gives a solemn nod. For the first time since you’ve known him, he looks frightened, and somewhat hesitant to release you over to your coworker.
Worried by his current disposition, you reassure him with a squeeze on his arm. “Just keep digging where I’ve placed those pots and I’ll be right back.”
Namjoon leads you into the adjacent greenhouse where you can continue to keep watch of Jungkook through the pains of glass. But the instant the doors close between you, Namjoon starts bombarding you with questions. “Why didn’t you tell me? How long has it been going on? ”
You take a step back having been caught off guard. “Tell you what?”
“About you and Jungkook! Is the feuding neighbours just a cover story?” Namjoon’s eyes are wide and hopeful as he carries on, not letting you fit a single word in. “Don’t worry, I won’t inform anyone you're together. I know it’s not easy having a human-hybrid relationship out in the open. But I think you should be careful about going out into public because he’s far too obvious about it.”
“We’re not- we’re not a couple. Why would you think such a thing?”
“Because the way held you, he looked like he was marking you with his own scent. That’s what rabbits do isn’t it? They rub their chins on what they want to claim as their own.”
“They do what?” You ask, stunned by the possibility, before the realism settles back in. It must just be Jungkook’s idea of a joke. “No, that’s not what he’s doing, our connection is nothing remotely like that. Don’t get me wrong he’s very attractive, and he knows it.” You mutter the last part under your breath. “But-”
“But you really are having trouble with him. It's not a cover?”
“You think I would keep something like that from you?” Namjoon over the years has come to be your closest confidant. A good friend and coworker, you would never dream of hiding something like that from him.
“I suppose not.”
“Is that why you brought me back here, to question my relationship status?”
“Not entirely.” Namjoon shakes his head with a small dimpled smile and changes the subject. “I do actually want to get your help with one of my new acquisitions.” He points out an unusual tree on his work bench, much too big for the pot it’s currently situated in. It’s extensive roots spill out over the top and threaten to swallow the pot whole. “A Ficus microcarpa, far from the most sought after species when it comes to reputable bonsai, but I couldn’t pass this one up. It has such good character.”
“What made it grow in such a way?” You examine the plant and it’s container with care, prying between the roots and taking note of cracks starting to form in the terracotta.
“The last owner neglected it for far too long. It sat hidden in the back of a commercial greenhouse, still under the watering and fertilizing system, but since it was confined to such a small space it tried to root it’s way out. If I were to guess, it probably hasn’t seen a new pot for at least five years.”
“It’s a miracle it survived.” You nod impressed by the tree’s determination. “What’s your plan for it?”
“Give it what it wants, let it leach out. I doubt I would be able to pry it out entirely without causing significant damage to the roots that are gripping the sides, so instead I want to put another bellow to catch it and give it the fresh soil and room it needs.” Namjoon lays the tree and pot down on the table, and asks you to hold and support the trunk, while he taps and pokes at the bottom of the vessel with a metal trowel. Enlarging the cracks, but not breaking the pot fully. It’s a tedious process. The small chunks of clay are removed piece by piece, giving him access to see and free some of the tightly bound roots inside.
While your coworker continues his task, your eyes are free to wonder. You check on Jungkook through the glass, as he kneels in front of the garden bed digging even faster than before.
Namjoon appears to notice your distracted state. “How's he doing?”
“Fine I guess.” You whisper. “He’s acting stranger than usual today though. He stole from my garden again. Invited himself over to my house, then here, and you saw what he did back there.”
“Huh...” Namjoon mutters, trailing off the same way he did on the phone.
“What is this ‘huh’ you keep giving me? You know I don’t like games Namjoon. If you have something you want to say, say it.”
“It’s about what you said earlier, how his caretaker leaves for extended periods of time. Usually if an animal is alone for too long they look for ways to stimulate themselves and resort to their natural instincts, scavenging and such. But he’s a hybrid and therefore part human, so if you were isolated and restricted to your house what would you do?”
“Probably look for the closest person I could find. So he’s acting out in my garden and teasing me, because he’s lonely?”
“I think so.” Namjoon responds as he extracts another root, freeing it from its confines.
“But why?” You ask, worried for the answer to come. “Why wouldn’t he just say something?”
“There could be a number of reasons. He might not understand what he’s doing on a conscious level, or he might be afraid to show any sign of weakness to you or anyone else. Jungkook is part prey animal, and humans are all too often predators.”
“If that’s the case...” You curse yourself for not realizing it sooner. The fury you held for him slowly fades away as you replay every encounter in your mind. He was literally jumping at the chance to spend time with you, to help you with your work, and you were to blind to see it. Your anger over your missing vegetables is so trivial in comparison to what he must have been going through. The loneliness he must have felt, and the inability to admit it, you can’t imagine how he suffered through it alone. “What can I do to help him? I have no legal claim to him Namjoon. What can I do within such limitations?”
He looks down at his work in progress. “The way I see it you and he, like this small tree, have three options. You could maintain the status quo, leave him be, but how long will he be able to survive like he is? Creeping over the edge but grasping on to nothingness?”
You shake your head vehemently rejecting the idea while Namjoon continues.
“You could report his caretaker for neglect, breaking the container entirely, but that too could be very damaging to him, tearing him away entirely could put him in a state of shock, and in a home that is no better for him, while the legal battle is decided. Or...” Namjoon grabs another container, slightly wider than the one in which the plant is seated. Filling it with substrate he takes the tree clinging to it’s partial pot and places it on top. Pressing the newly freed roots down into the soil.
“You could support him, give him a better home just outside of his own where he can be himself and access what he needs. I personally think it’s your safest option for now.” Namjoon leads over inspecting the bonsai and lowers his voice to an almost inaudible whisper. “Until the day, when it is possible to fully cast the pot aside.”
You nod, though now left to grapple with what you could possibly have to offer the hybrid. “I’m not sure I would be the best person to care for him.”
“I think Jungkook would disagree. He was already trying to scent you. That to me, implies his desire for something more in the realm of an intimate relationship.” You choke on your breath as Namjoon comes to an additional conclusion. Upon seeing your distress he makes a suggestion. “Of course you could keep it strictly to friendship between the two of you and I’m sure that will improve his situation, but his other needs will need to be met for him to feel completely at home...”
“His other needs? You think he wants to be with me? Intimately?! No! Surely he would have acted differently if that was his intent! He’s done nothing but tease me when he catches me even remotely looking in his direction.”
“So you have been looking at him!” Namjoon taunts you with a massive grin. Apologizing a second later when you proceed to glare at him. “But to answer your question, no, not necessarily. You have to remember most of society deems him a lesser being. He could be feeling a lot of guilt and pressure not to engage with you in that way. Though he might not outright say it, I bet his instincts will continue to shine through. I’ll even prove it to you.” Namjoon takes off a glove and rubs your head. “I bet this rabbit of yours will take less than a minute before he tries to replace the smell of my hand with his own again... trust me.”
You shake your head in disbelief. “I should probably get back to him.” You are just about to step away when your thoughts return to the long neglected plant. “Where do you plan to house that when you’re finished? Ficuses naturally belong in a more tropical location don’t they?”
“They do, especially if I want to give it a better chance. It’s going to need a place far more humid than this space.”
“Was this all your calculated way of guilting me to store it in my greenhouse too?”
“The thought might have crossed my mind.” Namjoon gives you a sly grin. “But my logic is still sound in regards to Jungkook. He needs someone, he needs a better home... and it would seem he’s chosen you.”
...
You wander back to your greenhouse, still full of doubt. Finding Jungkook to have finished most of the required digging.
“Sorry for leaving you.”
“You-you okay?” He asks, upon seeing the dazed look on your face and then scowling in the direction that Namjoon led you.
“Fine, he just needed help with one of his plants. Sorry about earlier, I didn’t think you’d be affected by the scent of his hybrid, Taehyung is rather sweet though, you’d like him.”
“You trust him then?” Jungkook grumbles as he pierces his shovel into the ground. “You trust Namjoon and his hybrid?”
“Of course, why shouldn’t I?”
“Because it wasn’t just a tiger that I smelled. He’s been around a lot of hybrids. Every scent on him told me to run, all of them put there by dangerous predators.”
“Oh,” you shoot back in surprise. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Taehyung is rather popular, he has a lot of friends and Namjoon often caters them at his place. You don’t need to worry, you're safe here.”
“It’s not myself I’m worried about.”
Jungkook inches closer as you crouch to place the plants in the holes he dug. His nose twitches as he takes a deep breath, his eyes watching while you bury the root ball in the warm soil, firmly securing the trunk of the young tree.
While you are leaning down, Jungkook reaches across to the other side of you. Grabbing the trowel to your right despite the fact that the same tool can be found on his left. The bottom of his chin grazes the top of your head and lingers for a spell. Your heart stops in that moment while questioning his motives. Though Namjoon said he’d do just this, you still can’t be entirely sure that it proves him correct; Jungkook might just not have seen the other option available to him, and he’s never bothered about invading your space. This could be nothing, though there’s a small growing part of you that wants it more and more to be something.
“He’s a good guy,” you promise, returning to the conversation so as to not dwell on his actions. “He even suggested that I should bring you along more often, if you’re interested in spending some of your days here.”
“He did?”
You nod. A small white lie, but not entirely incorrect, and if it gets him to accept Namjoon easier you’ll all be better for it. “I wouldn’t expect you to work, but you're more than welcome to just hang around. The staff here could always use some company and I’m sure it would beat staying at home alone all day.”
“I would like that. I would like that a lot, but would you want me to keep you company too?”
“If that’s what you want to do.”
“No, I need to know if that’s what you want.” He looks over to you pinning you down in his line of sight.
“I suppose I would....” You answer and turn your head, unable to bear the nerves that his gaze brings. The both of you fall quiet. Knowing what you know now, being free of your anger for him leaves you vulnerable, open to his persuasion, and now you are no longer certain of how to act. So you start to rely on what has made him comfortable in the past, and interject with a new condition to bring an end to the awkward silence. “As long as you treat this garden better than mine back home.”
Jungkook lets out a long laugh. “I have nothing but the highest respect for your garden.”
...
When planting is finished your clothes are entirely saturated in sweat and your muscles aching from use. It’s hard to believe how much you’ve both done in such a short amount of time. While carting up the supplies, Jungkook’s eyes catch on something behind you. You look around spotting the newly potted bonsai on a back table. Namjoon must have dropped it off while you both were busy.
Looking at it now you can’t help but notice how even the shape of its leaves remind you of the hybrid’s ears, long, pointed, and reaching up to the sky. You consider your friend's words one more time and while Jungkook leans over to inspect the tree. Reaching out to his back, your hand shakes with hesitation before setting down on a spot just below his shoulder. He softens under your touch, a low hum leaving his lips. His attention turns from the plant to you. With your hand still in place, your arm is now wrapped around him, leaving only an inch between the two of you. You stand there fixed and unmoving, but content in the knowledge, that you seem to have left him speechless this time. His eyes darting away from yours, to your lips, your neck, and finally the hand you place upon his chest.
Only to have the moment broken when you can hear and feel the rumble from his stomach. His nervous laugh follows as he reaches up to scratch behind his ear.
“Hungry?”
He nods in response, his eyes wide as he remains unusually silent.
“Come on, I’ll buy you dinner.” You offer as you turn him around to head to the car.
...
You both settle on a take out spot, and return home to wash up and eat.
After finishing your meal and tearing off your overalls, you both settle down on the hammock in your yard. With Jungkook’s legs long enough to touch the ground, he slowly rocks the seat back and forth. He’s been near silent since that close moment together. He’s never had a problem with banter and flirtation, but now you’ve come to notice that any attention which can’t be passed off as a joke causes him to flounder.
Laying back in the hammock, both full and content, your eyes threaten to close after the long day as Jungkook continues to sit beside you. The sound of crickets lulling you to sleep. “Keep an eye out for that thief of mine will you?” You may not like games but if it makes him comfortable, and keeps him talking, you’ll continue to play this ruse with him.
“You trust me to keep watch without your supervision?”
“Are you suggesting I shouldn’t?”
“No, it’s just a lot more credit than you usually give me.”
“I think you’ve earned it.” You whisper as you finally drift off.
It feels like only a few minutes of rest before the sun sets and the air turns cool. Jungkook’s chin comes to rest on the top of your head like it did back in the greenhouse. He shifts his weight, burrowing his arms around and behind to cover you as he takes deep breaths. You lean into him seeking the warmth of his chest. No longer restricted by your childish anger to enjoy his company is a welcome relief, you only wish you could relinquish him of any of his own troubles and doubts. And then, you feel it, a drop of cold rain hitting your neck. The hammock moves again as he adjusts, the back of his fingers running across the damp spot. Another finds your cheek and he wipes that away too, your skin shivering in response.
But when a speck lands your mouth he stops. You wait, a second, then two. Your anticipation grows with face heating up and your chest tightening as you continue to crave his touch. You want him to wipe it away, to touch you, to act on whatever desires he might be keeping. You part your lips with the desperate hope that he will take the hint. Rejoicing when the warm pad of his thumb spreads the drop across the delicate skin.
He comes down on to you, his mouth catching any and all remains of the droplet as he encases your lips. Jungkook places a hand on your neck while the other grabs the ropes of the hammock, his legs straddle your hips. The scattered rain turns to a downpour as he remains fixed to your mouth, even his form isn’t enough to shield you from the current washing down from the sky.
As your hands reach up to his own damp and curling locks entwining your fingers in the strands he moans and nips. But as quickly as it started, so too does it end. When Jungkook snaps up as though jolted from a dream. His ears point back as an apology flows from him. “I-I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Jungkook,” you call out to him but he ignores you as he tries to detangle himself. When one foot hits the ground. You grab his waist and try again. “Jungkook, you don’t have to be sorry.” But instead of stopping he merely pulls you off and along with him, sending you both to the muddy ground, but this time with you on top of him.
“Are you okay?” He asks the loud pouring of the rain forcing him to raise the volume of his voice.
You chuckle at his concern considering he’s the one flat on his back. “I think I should be asking you that question instead.” You pause as he mirrors your grin. “Why did you stop? Did I do something wrong?”
“No.” He looks up at you, his brow furrowing. “You did nothing wrong. It was me. I was the one acting on my instincts. I shouldn’t have done that when I know how much you hate me.”
“I don’t hate you...” You explain, trying your best not to be drowned out by the water cascading down. “The things you did might have annoyed me, but I get it now. I’m just sorry it took me so long to notice.”
“Notice what?”
“How fucked up your situation is. For not realizing how alone you must have been. How caged you must have felt. I’ve been so focused on my own little world that I didn’t realize what was happening or why you were acting the way you were. I like you, a lot, but I was too wrapped up in my frustration to say how I felt...”
“It’s not your fault.”
You shake your head. “I am not innocent in this. I should have been paying more attention.”
“Then pay attention to me now.” He begs with his round eyes shining up at you.
“But in what way? As a neighbour, as a friend, or maybe something more?" Your voice cracks in desperation, trying to find his needs while also hoping they are the same as yours. “Is that why you were always teasing me the way you did? You wanted something more?”
“You really want to know?” Jungkook’s tone is low as it grips on to his every word. “I did it because it was the only thing that could distract me from my incessant need for you. Seeing your reactions and having your attention kept me in check. I’m very different from you and I’m aware it could cause a problem. I wasn’t sure if you could ever fully want me because of that.” He reaches to rub around the base of his ears. “But every day that I looked over I wanted to hold you, to claim you, to take you right here on this very spot. So often I dreamed of jumping the fence and coming for you instead of...”
You smile down at him, noting his near admission. “Instead of?”
“Instead of watching from a distance.” He smirks, catching and narrowly fixing his statement. Pleading guilty only to his longing for you.
“Then do it.” You demand of him.
He groans from his position beneath you. “Don’t tease me like that.”
“I’m not. You weren’t the only one peeking through the fence Jungkook.” Reaching up to your collar you tug off your shirt. He follows your lead with his own to reveal his sculpted chest he’s taunted you with so many times. “I don’t care if we’re different from each other. I don’t care if it causes a problem.” You shift back on his body traveling from your seat near his stomach down to his hips, his clothed dick firm and pressing against you. A moan escapes his lips, confirming that you’ve made your point. “There’s no one else nearby, so if you want me so much that you’re willing to fuck me out here, in the rain and mud-”
His hands come to grip your waist, and in one swift motion, he lifts you off, maneuvering out from underneath, to fall into place behind you. From there he pushes you down to your hands and knees, his body bent over yours. “You have no idea how much I want to.” He whispers with a kiss to your bare shoulder damp from the rain that continues to pour.
He takes off your bra before his face moves down your back, nose trailing against your skin and pausing at your shorts. Unfastening the button he pulls them down, freeing you of your underwear too before they are both cast aside. “I want to smell you, and taste you.” Jungkook takes in a deep breath, wrapping an arm around your legs, and barring your thighs. He buries his face between your legs, his tongue reaching out to deliver a long lick to your folds pausing after every lap.
Your palms dig into the ground, the cool mud coming to the surface to meet them. You buck against his tongue but the forearm holding you remains firm, sending your squirming downward to bury your elbows in the soggy grass too.
Jungkook chuckles as you inadvertently give him a better angle. From behind you can hear the zipper of his own shorts. Rubbing the head of his cock against your damp folds, he covers it with the slick of your slit, and with a long groan he eases it inside. He’s slow at first, letting you savor the girth and warmth of him. So you start to edge back and forward on his cock. Taking the time to enjoy every inch, along with the sounds that leave him. But when he returns to take control, the first thrust is so powerful, his thighs hit your ass with a loud clap, and every jolt of his hips after, drives you further down each time.
A stuttering groan escapes him as he fills you. Thinking he’s finished you lean forwards and until his cock pulls out, but in response he grabs your waist. Turning you over, back to the ground on top of the discarded clothes and facing him.
He lowers himself pressing his chest against yours. His fingers reach to grab your chin and take a kiss. His cock, despite having come only moments before, is hard once more and poised to enter once again.
“How are you-” You manage to squeeze a few words in the gaps between his kisses as he draws breath. “Ready for more-” Another pass of his tongue. “Already?”
“You have my hybrid traits to thank for that.” He moves to nibble on the side of your throat. “I have more to give you, if you want it.”
You nod unable to emit any noise other than a gasp as his mouth finds a sensitive spot on your neck. His dick forges in again, your slick and his cum dripping out of you as he fills you with himself instead.
You’ve avoided touching him with your own hands as they are patched with mud, but as his thrusts grow more powerful than even before, you’re forced to grab on his arms and chest. Leaving behind streaks of dirt which display the path of your grip. Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind though, in fact looks rather encouraged by your touch, and the marks you leave him.
“What a dirty woman you are, and getting me all messy too.” He scoffs while admiring your handiwork. “Can I return the favour?”
“Help me come first and you can do whatever the fuck you want.” You gasp on the brink of your climax.
His ears perk up and a grin streaks across his face. “Close are you?” He grabs your calf and wraps your leg around his back, the other follows suit and his hand comes to rest on your lower back pushing you up and into him effectively grinding your mount against him.
You gasp and flinch with the sudden pressure, but he holds you firm as your back arches to meet him.
His hips beat on at a rapid pace, a small whimper escapes him as you reach the peak, tipping you over the edge. The chilling rain can in no way can douse the searing heat that spreads through you. You're still gasping when his jaw clamps down hard, his teeth poised upon your skin. The first pulse of his cock comes inside, but on the second he pulls out to splatter your chest and stomach with the rest. His hand comes to clutch his shaft, spilling more out and on to you with each stroke.
After every remaining drop has been cast on you he smiles, dragging his fingers across the rain drenched mess of mud and cum on your skin. “Never thought I’d ever see you so thoroughly soiled.”
You giggle at his remarks through your deep breaths. “And now that you do, what do you think?”
“I think it suits you, the dirt, the rain, and me...” He lowers himself down onto you, with his head now resting upon your shoulder. “It’s too bad though. Now I just want more, but we’re both far too filthy to carry on like this.”
You turn to whisper at the base of his ear. “Who says we can’t continue in the shower...”
...
You wake early the next morning with the sun spilling into the room, lighting up your bed, and the hybrid sleeping next to you. His ears and nose twitching as he continues to rest. Slipping out from the covers, and into a set of clean gardening clothes, you exit the room with as little sound as possible.
On the tile floor of your hall, muddy footprints trail from your backdoor to your bathroom. A smile pulls at your lips as you recall the events which brought them there. Jungkook had been so excited to keep going he picked you up and rushed you inside.
The feeling from the warm water and hands in contrast to the cool rain was enough to bring back the waves of pleasure. He was so thorough in washing you down, you might have to ask him to join you for another this morning and repay the favour.
Outside in the garden you find all your harvest from the day before present and untouched. You’re pleased by this new development, but it’s not the fact that your crops are intact which makes you happy, it’s the comfort in knowing that Jungkook didn’t feel the need to take them.
A few minutes later the hybrid in question comes up behind you wrapping his arms around your waist pulling with him a blanket he took from the bed to cover the both of you. “Morning.” He mumbles, as his nose finds the crook of your neck where he exhales with a deep and relaxed sigh.
“Morning.” You respond, enjoying the tickle of his breath before you turn around to better see him. “It seems the thief didn’t strike last night. ”
“I guess they found a new garden to plunder and devour?” Jungkook suggests, giving you a sly grin, before he opens his mouth again. It’s easy to see that he’s getting ready to confess, his face shifts to a stern expression as he looks down at the ground, the guilt weighing heavily upon his brow. Placing your index to his lips you stop him. No longer needing to hear those words of admission, you offer a new proposal instead.
“Maybe, but that was just one night. The thief might still come back. So if it’s alright with you I would like you to stay here. Until we can be sure they won’t return.”
Jungkook lets out a satisfied chuckle, pushing aside your finger and pulling you tighter into his warm embrace. “You’re right, I suppose it would be safer if I stayed.” His lips plant a kiss on the top of your head where he then rests his chin. “A temptation as enticing as this, shouldn’t be left alone and unattended.”
...
#jungkook smut#hybrid jungkook#bts hybrid au#bts fluff#bts fanfic#bts fanfiction#bts the garden thief#bts smut#jungkook x reader
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.:Time And Time Again:. (Marauders Era x Reader) Ch 1
Old habits die hard— and so do feelings, apparently. Relive moments high and low from your life with the Marauders and co. as you tell your godson, Harry, about all the mischief you got up to back in your school days. Takes place mainly in the Marauders era but also has content congruent with the Order of the Phoenix timeline, with some cannon divergence, of course~
- Main pairings: Sirius Black x Reader, Severus Snape x Reader, James Potter x Reader, Remus Lupin x Reader, slight Regulus Black x Reader, and a bunch of friendships! Gender neutral pronouns :)
LINKS: CH 1 CH 2 CH 3 CH 4 CH 5 CH 6 CH 7 CH 8
____________________________________________________________
Ch 1 .:Memories And First Meetings:.
12 Grimmauld Place was cold.
Not in the temperature sense of the word, especially in the heat of London summer, but something about it felt distant. Perhaps it was the cookie cutter exterior, dreadfully drab, although you knew its true nature was anything but. Despite its grandeur, the interior was as ornate as it was dull and unsaturated, like a black and white photograph in all its monochromatic glory. Maybe it was the fact that you knew what had happened here in the past, or the fact that you knew who was waiting here for you in the present.
You felt the strange sensation of stepping through the thick blanket of protection charms surrounding the house, as if your body were moving through molasses for a fraction of a second. The moment you were fully inside, you began to hear the hushed bits of a conversation echoing through the entrance hall from the dining room whose door was slightly ajar. The words became clearer as you neared the door.
“Harry's not ready! Have you gone completely mad?”
You found yourself grinning at the first voice, Molly Weasley's stern tone unmistakable.
“He's not a child, Molly.”
You froze as you heard the second one; you'd know it anywhere.
A heavy wave of emotion surged through you as you got near enough to the entrance to see the face of Sirius Black through the gap in the door. His time in Azkaban had taken a toll on him, you could tell. Heavy bags hung from his face, his cheeks hollow; although his gray eyes still held that spark in them. His hair was longer, somehow even more wild and unruly than before, but it suited him.
“Well he's not an adult either! He's not James.”
You caught a flash of ginger as Molly crossed the room, using her wand to aggressively clear away the plates on the table as she made her point.
“I know he isn't, but he can handle himself,” Sirius said, “and I'll be there to protect him.”
“How touching, Black. Perhaps the boy will grow up to be a felon just like his godfather.”
Your stomach dropped at the third voice. Shit.
Your presence remained unannounced, but as you peaked your head around the corner of the door frame you were met with Severus' stoic face, an imperceptible crease of distaste in his brow as he regarded Sirius. As your view widened you saw that Lupin sat to his left, a human wall between the two former foes.
You stilled at the door, taking a deep breath in an attempt to settle your irrationally rioting nerves. It's not as if you didn't know they would be there, but it had been so long since you'd seen any of them. So much has changed. . .
“You stay out of this, Snivelus. I don't care what Dumbledore has to say about your supposed reformation, but I know better.”
“Don't you have to go play fetch elsewhere?”
“Oh come on, you two,” Remus sighed.
Well, maybe not much has changed after all.
“Still resorting to playground bickering, are we?”
Several heads snapped in your direction at your words, and you were met with various reactions. Molly's face immediately split into a smile and she rushed around to table to greet you.
“(Y/n), dear! So nice to see you again,” she pulled you into a surprisingly strong hug and you couldn't help but join in her laughter.
“It's good to be back,” you admitted, “Charlie says hello, by the way.”
“Oh, I'm going to give give that boy a talking to,” Molly huffed, “you aren't his owl, dear. The least he could do is write home and say so himself.”
“Romanian mountain ranges keep a wizard busy,” you grinned, “He says he tries to keep in touch.”
“Sending home a bag of petrified dragon scales with a note that says 'look at this!!' is hardly keeping in touch,” she retorted, fussing about with your jacket's collar that had become wrinkled from her embrace.
Even from across the table you could feel Sirius' eyes on you, grateful that you had Molly's whirlwind greeting as a scapegoat for your flushed face.
“(Y/n). . .” he said softly, getting up from his seat.
“Hey,” you smiled, fighting the lump in your throat as he wrapped his arms around you. He was so warm, still wearing that damn leather jacket he'd somehow been reunited with after his imprisonment.
“What are you doing here? They told me you were out working in America,” Sirius said, eyes twinkling as he held you at arm's length.
“Well, I suppose I'm sort of working everywhere these days,” you said. As his words registered in your brain you turned to Molly with narrowed eyes. “You didn't tell him I was coming?”
“I thought it would be a nice surprise,” she said coyly.
You shook your head, turning back to Sirius.
“I'm so sorry, Molly said I could stay here so I thought she already ran it by you—”
“No, no, of course you can stay!” he said enthusiastically, “I'm glad you're here.”
He seemed gentler than he was before, certainly more mellow than in his youth, but that energy that was so quintessentially him remained buzzing beneath his skin, and Merlin, you'd missed it.
After realizing how long the two of you had spent practically holding each other you coughed awkwardly, slowly drifting apart. As you looked around the table your eyes caught Severus' and you thought your heart stopped for a moment. To the untrained eye he probably seemed just as uninterested as ever, but the look of shock in his eyes was so blatantly apparent to you that it threw you off guard. You managed to cast a small smile in his direction, but his expression remained unchanged while yours dropped. You felt your stomach twist up in knots as you thought about what had happened the last time you saw each other.
Lupin looked between the pair of you before getting up from his own seat and coming to your rescue. He extended his arms with a kind smile, and you happily shifted your attention to him.
“It's about time London had its best auror back in town,” he said.
“Flattery will get you nowhere, Moony,” you said playfully, hugging him tight, “It's good to see you too.”
“Are you hungry?” Molly asked, pulling a chair out for you.
“Oh no, I had something on the way here,” you said, taking a seat, “thank you, though.”
It felt surreal to be back here, where it all started. The faces were different—some new, some missing—but the same determined feeling remained.
“Now, where were we,” Sirius said, his confidence returning to his shoulders as he addressed the table.
“We were just talking about how Harry isn't ready to be tangled up in all this,” Molly said sternly.
“I think he should decide that for himself,” Sirius said adamantly.
“Well of course the boy would say he wants to fight, he's—”
“Listening in right now,” you pointed out, jutting your head in the direction of the open door where Harry stood, half obscured by the shadow of the stairway.
The boy flushed, backing away slightly as he was caught. But his eyes lit up as they landed on you, and you felt a tug at your heart as you saw your best friend in their bright green hues.
“(Y/n), you're back,” he said in disbelief.
“And here to stay for a bit, apparently,” you said with a smile.
Molly looked between the two of you before letting out a sigh.
“You know what, we should stop for the night anyways,” she said with a wave of her hand, “We've kept the children up long enough with our chatter, and (Y/n) ought to get some rest as well. Off to bed, the lot of you.”
Some of the other adults exchanged some knowing smiles as she shooed them out of the room. People slowly trickled out through the doorway, goodbyes exchanged, and before long it was just you and your godson left.
You had been lucky enough to meet Harry at the end of his third year, and he'd broken the news about Sirius' innocence to you. You so badly wanted to be there for Harry sooner, but between your strained relationship with the Ministry and cleaning up the mess with MACUSA in the States, you always seemed to be called away from the boy. You wanted nothing more than to take him away from that horrid house—you knew how nasty Petunia could be firsthand. Nonetheless, he seemed to be doing well, and you were happy that you'd grown closer over the last few years even if you couldn't be there in person all the time.
“I've got another little souvenir for you, by the way,” you said, having migrated to the living room.
Harry seemed to perk up at that. Since your visits had been so sparse, you began to make it a tradition to bring him back something magical from whatever part of the world you'd been working in.
“You mentioned you were struggling in Potions the last time we spoke,” you said, rummaging through your bag, eventually producing a small, gold-rimmed vial full of a deep maroon liquid. Small black clouds seemed to tumble in a miniature cyclone inside the glass.
“Dragon's breath essence,” you grinned, “nicked it off of Charlie before I left Romania. Put a few drops of this in your salamander blood the next time you brew a Wiggenweld potion and you're set to pass with flying colors.”
“Brilliant!” Harry said, eyes wide, “that's on our O.W.L.S. this year.”
“I know,” you said cheekily, “you didn't hear it from me. Personally, I think an Outstanding in Potions as a requirement to become an auror is utter rubbish. Don't get me wrong, it's important to know your way around a cauldron, but to hold someone back who excels at Defense Against the Dark Arts and Charms just because they can't cook up a sleeping draught? I don't know, it doesn't sit right with me. And I've heard Severus is hard enough on you guys as it is.”
Harry seemed surprised at your casual address of his professor but shook it off quickly.
“But you're ace at Potions, and it seems like you really like it,” he said.
“Yeah, well I—” you faltered a bit, “I learned from the best. . .”
“Professor Slughorn, you mean?” Harry questioned.
Your eyes widened at that.
“Yeah,” you lied, recovering fast, “Well, Slughorn was a great teacher but terrible at throwing parties. He had this thing called the Slug Club and the dinners were just awful. Your mother was the first of us to join and she ended up roping me into it, and before we knew it we were all standing around in these ridiculous outfits taking swigs of the firewhiskey your dad snuck in just to get through the night.”
You smiled fondly at the memory, and you could see Harry living vicariously through the emotions on your face. You were grateful for this moment; this was the longest you'd actually gotten to sit down and talk together in a long time.
“Were you always friends?” Harry asked, “with my parents, I mean.”
You had to laugh at that question.
“With your mum, yes. Your father, well, not exactly. . .”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 1971 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Your body swayed gently with the movement of the Hogwarts Express as you walked up and down the isles, looking for someplace to sit. Most of the carriages were packed tight with large groups made up of upperclassmen not exactly looking to expand their circle.
As you approached the back of the train a mostly empty car caught your eye, occupied only by two children your age, or at least that's what you guessed from their black ties and basic robes that marked them as unsorted first-years like yourself.
One of them was a brooding looking boy with messy, shoulder length black hair and shockingly pale skin, leaning against the wall of the train and halfway through a book that seemed well beyond his years. Sitting across from him was a pretty red-headed girl who was admiring the rapidly passing scenery through the window.
“Excuse me, do you mind if I sit with you?” you asked, sliding the screen door open.
The boy's brow furrowed, clearly about refuse when the young girl beat him to it.
“Of course not!” she beamed, her smile infectious. You didn't miss the sharp look she shot over to the boy who simply rolled his eyes in response. After you muttered a small 'thanks' she scooted over closer to the window so you could sit next to her.
“My name is Lily,” she said, extending a hand, “Lily Evans.”
“Nice to meet you,” you smiled, “I'm (Y/n) (L/n).”
The boy quirked a brow at your last name, his expression shifting to something unreadable as he blatantly studied you over the spine of his book. After letting this go on for some time, you glanced over at Lily.
“Does he speak?”
“Perfectly well, thank you,” the boy said coldly.
Lily sent a disappointed look his way and his heart fell slightly, but he didn't need to be friends with anyone else, and he certainly didn't want other people becoming friends with Lily either. An irrational thought, he knew, but it was how his stubborn little brain worked at the time. They didn't need anyone but each other. Wasn't that enough?
In any case, he expected his behavior would be enough to scare you off (it usually worked on other people), but to his complete and utter surprise, you began to laugh. It started off as a light giggle, soon growing into full on laughter. He stared at you in open confusion as you were nearly brought to tears from your fit.
“You're funny,” you stated honestly, managing to speak through your chortles.
The boy was taken completely aback by your candor, actually at a loss for words. Lily joined in the laughter at your simple remark.
“So you do talk, I guess you must have a name too, then,” you said teasingly.
He blinked once. Twice.
“. . . Severus Snape.”
“That's a cool name.”
The heat that crept onto the boy's face surprised no one more than himself, and he buried himself in his book quickly to hide it. Another surprisingly frank statement from you, and not one he'd ever heard before.
If he thought you were full of surprises then, he had no idea what was coming to him.
_____________________________________________________________
The minute the Sorting Hat was placed on your head, it was immediately intrigued.
“Now here's an odd one,” it chuckled, “loyal, compassionate, empathetic, and yet a razor wit. A calculating, ambitious mind, and yet a relentless sense of adventure. All this, and with your bloodline to take into account as well. Your family has quite the history here, (L/n).”
Hushed whispers fell across the Great Hall among the older students and even some of the faculty at the hat's words, and you shifted uncomfortably in your seat.
“Though, I sense a different sort of mentality in you,” the hat continued, “you desire to challenge the old ways,” it paused for some time before going on, “do you truly have no preference, child?”
You were surprised at the question. You knew your family's reputation— it had been ingrained in you from a young age— but that didn't sway you, nor did it scare you. When you really thought about what house you wanted to be in, you truly couldn't think of an answer. It wouldn't change who you were, after all. Whether you donned red, yellow, blue, or green, you stood firmly in the knowledge that you would always be (Y/n) (L/n). Having made up your mind, you shook your head at the hat's question, and although its face was obscured from your view, you could almost sense its grin as it knew you were telling the truth.
“Well then,” it chuckled, “It is truly rare that I get an opportunity such as this. Let's make it interesting, then, shall we? Better be. . . Slytherin!”
Snape sat, slack-jawed, as you bounded over to the applauding Slytherin table and plopped down next to him. You rested your chin atop your folded hands, looking largely unbothered, a glint in your (e/c) eyes. He chuckled under his breath despite himself.
Full of surprises indeed.
___________________________________________________________
Your first encounter with James Potter was of a different sort.
It was the very beginning of your third year when you'd first met him properly. You had a few classes together, and Lily would rant about him constantly pestering her; occasionally you'd see the Gryffindor, along with another unfamiliar boy in his house, sprinting through the corridors, Professor McGonagall not far behind and demanding them to stop. But other than that, you'd never really interacted with him.
Ever since you'd met on the train you and Lily started to hang out more and more, with Snape “begrudgingly” tagging along. The Slytherin had been slow to warm up to you, but you were relentlessly kind and infuriatingly persistent, and eventually he found himself enjoying your little quips and comparatively sunny disposition. By the end of your first year, the three of you were nearly inseparable, and your bond only strengthened throughout your second. But third year is when things started changing.
Snape sat in the shade among the thick, overgrown roots of the old oak tree by the Black Lake, nose deep in an advanced Potions textbook he'd swiped from a fifth year as he waited for you and Lily to return from Transfiguration, the only class you didn't have together. This became your usual spot, with Lily sitting in the grass beside him and you on the branch above him, legs swinging as you absentmindedly sketched in your notebook. A comfortable silence would settle between you, something you'd all grown to enjoy; there was no need for constant conversation, it was enough sometimes to just enjoy each others' presence.
The silence he was reveling in alone, however, was promptly interrupted as rowdy laughter reached Snape's ears. Sure enough, a few figures emerged from the curve of the hill, revealing none other than James Potter, flanked by the curly haired boy he'd been seen running around with earlier along with two other Gryffindors: a short-statured boy with dirty blonde hair and another, taller and leaner, with long scars that ran along his face.
Snape didn't pay them much mind until he realized that they were heading straight for the tree— straight for him. Snape had noticed right away how the Potter boy had tried to befriend Lily as soon as she was sorted into Gryffindor, and it was safe to say he was less than fond of him despite having never really spoken to him before.
“You've got to be joking,” James snickered as he walked up to the tree, looking Snape up and down, “This is the guy Evans has been ditching us to see?”
Severus' eyes narrowed. So now he had a reason not to like him.
“Get lost,” he said, turning back to his book.
“What, you think you're too good to talk to us, huh?” James scoffed at him, clearly miffed.
As if on cue, the curly haired boy snatched the book out of Snape's hands, holding it out of his reach as he fumbled to get it back.
“Toss it, Sirius!” James called out. The boy, who he now knew as Sirius, threw the textbook like a frisbee, and Potter caught it easily.
As Snape angrily rose from his seat to get it back, the two boys continued to throw it between themselves so he couldn't grab it. Fed up, the Slytherin drew his wand but was quickly outmatched.
“Expelliarmus!”
Snape's wand flew out of his hands and straight into Sirius', who held it above his head. Just as the black haired boy jumped up for it, another spell flew towards him, this time from James.
“Winguardium Leviosa!”
Snape grit his teeth, staring helplessly at his wand as it hovered higher and higher out of his reach.
“James, come on, I think that's enough,” the taller boy near the back said.
“Don't be a bore, Remus, we're just having some fun.”
“I-I think he's right, guys.”
“Shut up, Peter.”
While his gaze was trained on his wand a harsh shove threw Snape to the ground, tears of frustration welling up in his eyes.
“No way, is he really crying?” James taunted.
“He is,” Sirius goaded on, “just look at him snivel.”
“You're right, maybe we should call him Snivelus, it suits him better.”
“Nice one, James.”
Snape winced as he was harshly pulled to his feet by James who sneered at him.
“Come on then, Snivelous. What are you gonna do?”
“Relashio!”
James' eyes widened as he suddenly felt himself repulsed back by some invisible force, his grip on Snape's robes forced to loosen as he was flung backwards. You stared the shocked Gryffindors down, wand at the ready for another spell as you ran to stand between Severus and them.
“Accio!” another voice called out, Snape's book and wand whizzing past their faces and into Lily's hands.
James staggered to his feet, trying to look unbothered by the fact that he'd just been knocked down, and by a spell that he hadn't even heard of yet.
“Look at that, boys,” he said, feigning confidence, “guess Snivelus needs a couple of girls to come to his rescue. You should ditch this loser, Evans.”
Before Lily could lash back, you stepped between them.
“What's that supposed to mean?” you scoffed.
“I'm sorry, who are you?”
You felt your forehead twitch, itching to smack that smug grin off his face.
It was Sirius who spoke next, recognition filling his gaze.
“Wait, you're the (L/n) kid, aren't you? Well that's just perfect, you two freaks can go study the Unforgivable Curses together.”
That struck a nerve in you.
“You don't know anything,” you said, not lowering your wand, “now get out of here before I knock you down too.”
“Aw, I don't know, Sirius, they're kind of cute all flustered like this,” James smirked.
You felt anger flare up in your chest, and it was Lily's turn to step in for you.
“Leave us alone, James,” she ordered.
When none of them moved you exhaled sharply, taking another step forward.
“Or I can just turn you into a flobberworm instead,” you said, “might be more fitting.”
Sirius laughed off your threat, but you could have sworn you saw a twinge of concern in his eyes as he looked over to the rest of his friends for backup.
“Let's just go, James. Come on,” the one named Remus said, trying to be the voice of reason.
The bespectacled boy frowned, shoving his wand back in his robes.
“Fine,” he said, “they aren't worth it anyways.”
He turned promptly on his heels, Sirius right behind him and Peter scampering after. Remus stayed behind for a moment, regarding you three.
“I'm sorry about them,” he said, “really.”
Your brow creased in suspicion, but you nodded, not quite smiling but offering up a neutral expression at least before he turned to catch up with the rest of his group.
“You were kidding about (L/n) being cute, right?” Sirius said as they headed back to the common room. When he was met with silence instead of a clear 'of course I was' he nearly had a stroke.
“Are you kidding, James?” Sirius said incredulously, “They're a Slytherin! They're just another dark arts dabbler who doesn't care about anything but their blood status.”
James only shrugged.
“Normally I'd agree, but they seem different,” he said. When he turned to see Sirius' unwavering expression he sighed, “I was just saying that to get a rise out of 'em. Don't worry, this won't be the last time we mess with them and Snivelus.”
Meanwhile, you were still out sitting by the tree, brushing the grass out of Severus' hair.
“That was amazing, (Y/n),” Lily said, wide-eyed, “How did you manage to learn that spell? And you already learned the worm-morphing jinx too?”
“Sev isn't the only one who's been learning ahead,” you said, “but that worm thing was a total bluff.”
“I didn't need your help,” Snape muttered.
You blinked down at him, shaking your head and unable to fight the smirk that crept onto your face.
“Sure you didn't,” you huffed, helping him up to his feet despite his protests, “don't be so dramatic, we won't tell anyone if that's what you're so worried about. Now come on, we're gonna be late for dinner. If Wilkes hogs all the Yorkshire puddings I'm blaming you entirely.”
Severus said nothing, only taking his book and wand back from Lily before you three walked back to the castle arm in arm, the smallest hint of a smile playing on his lips.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“It seems like so long ago,” you said, reminiscing, “Although I suppose it was, but I don't want to think about that too hard— I'll start to feel old, Merlin forbid.”
Harry's eyes were full of disbelief at your story.
“So you, my mum, and. . . Snape were friends?”
“Believe it or not,” you grinned, “unlikely trio as we were, it just sort of worked somehow.”
Until it didn't, you thought grimly, but forced the thought aside. You could tell by how quiet Harry had gotten that something was bothering him.
“My dad really did that?” he asked quietly.
Your gaze softened and you turned to fully face him.
“He was dumb and immature at the time,” you said, “we all were. There's not much else to be when you're thirteen. Each of us made plenty of mistakes, too many to count. And your mum. . . she was good for him. He always told me that she made him want to be a better person. People can change. In my opinion, there are few things someone can do that makes them truly irredeemable, and your father never came close to doing any of those things.”
You thought it better to mention that Snape probably didn't feel the same way.
“In any case, we should be getting to bed,” you said, getting up from the couch, “if you ever want to hear any other stories about your parents, I've got plenty of them.”
“Yeah,” Harry said, smile brightening his whole face, “yeah, definitely. Thank you.”
As Harry walked off to his room you sighed, making your way as quietly as you could up the creaky stairs. Just as you were about to retreat into your own guest room, your eyes snagged on the slightly ajar door at the top of the stairwell.
You stalled in front of it for a moment, wondering if you were out of your mind or not. When you had unapologetically settled on 'yes', you moved to knock on the door when it suddenly swung open. You practically leaped back at the proximity as you were met with Sirius standing in the doorway, stormy eyes wide. He'd shed his leather jacket for the night, leaving him in a dark maroon button up with the top few undone. Your senses were draped with the heady scent of his cologne, and you found yourself grasping at words to say.
When Sirius got over his initial shock he laughed sheepishly, running a hand through his curls out of habit.
“I was about to see if you were awake,” he admitted with a small grin, “Seems we both had the same idea.”
Read chapter 2 here !
#harry potter#the marauders#marauders x reader#sirius black x reader#james potter x reader#remus lupin x reader#regulus black x reader#sirius black#james potter#remus lupin#regulus black#harry potter x reader#marauders era#severus snape#snape x reader#severus snape x reader#multi chapter#harry potter fanfiction#marauders fanfiction
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dirty little secret ~ knj
❆ summary: one fateful night in december, you come to acquire santa's naughty or nice list by accident. together with your neighbour and best friend namjoon you uncover the dirty secrets of your neighbours plunging everything into chaos. bringing mischief about is all fun games, until your own little secret appears on the naughty and nice list.
❆ pairing: namjoon x female reader (minor appearance of other idols)
❆ word count: 10,4k
❆ genre: humor, romance, fluff, smut
❆ fic warnings: oral sex (f. receiving), language
❆ rating: 18+
❆ notes from the author: this fic is part of a hoeliday well spent from the christmas in july collab hosted by @kookdiaries, @kithtaehyung and @xiaokoo and is loosely based on the hallmark channel-movie ‘naughty or nice’ (2012). i had a lot of fun writing this!
big thank you again to @kookdiaries for creating this incredible banner and for @minigum for being the most wonderful beta reader <3
❆ tag list: @shameless-army @writtenwhalien @shrimpmsg @moonchild1
In the dark of the night, snow was falling softly and covered the street in peaceful quietness. Christmas decorations and flickering candles adorned the lit windows and lights were beautifully draped around snow-covered bushes. Sparkling reindeers pulled Santa’s carriage and inflated snowmen waved happily at cars driving by. Christmas time had just begun.
A few lamps illuminated the street with their yellow dimmed light as a dark, giant shadow slipped past. Quiet footsteps could be heard in the stillness of the cold winter night, wading through ankle-deep snow in heavy black boots. They were on their way to the sturdy apartment building on the left side of the desolate street, determined to fulfil their quest. They took another look around before they slipped through the glass door, the red fabric of their clothes gleamed under the flickering light of the broken lamp of the entrance lobby. Then, the night was quiet again.
You had been out with your best friend and next-door neighbour Namjoon whom you knew a few years by now. From the first day you had set foot in the small apartment building, he had been a helping hand, mainly through helping you carry a myriad of small boxes and things all the way up to the 6th floor where the both of you lived. The elevator had, of course, been out of order on that day. But he hadn’t complained at all! And because he had gone way out of his way even though he had only met you that same day, you had invited him to a take-away pizza and a bottle of cheap wine from the supermarket right around the corner. You had not expected your first night in your new home to be like this, to be so much fun. He had stayed until the morning, the two of you talking about anything and everything until the birds had chirped good morning outside. And the bond between the two of you had only grown from there on out.
You had visited a local Christmas market together, drinking a whole lot of eggnog and relishing in the joyful spirit of Christmas. You had never been someone to celebrate Christmas before you had met Namjoon. In your first year, he had basically dragged you to the market and filled you up with all kinds of different Christmassy drinks and snacks, bought you several gingerbread hearts, and even got you to ride one of the many attractions with him. The next day had been awful, the hot chocolate with rum had come out the same way that it had gone in. Still, it had been the most joyous Christmas time you had ever had.
Ever since then, he always did something new with you every Christmas. Buying a tree, seeing a Santa Claus show in the city centre, or writing letters with long wish lists to Santa. But it had never come down to actually spending Christmas eve and morning together, to your disappointment. He usually drove to his parents, a three-hour ride from where you lived, leaving you on your own to sulk in loneliness until he came back for New Year’s Eve.
Well, this year he had bugged you until you had agreed to go décor shopping for your apartment with him. It had made him sad to see your living space so empty during a cheery time like this. He got you all the basic things: fairy lights, cute little snowmen that had the friendliest smiles, a whole lot of candlesticks with red candles that smelled like gingerbread and cinnamon, hell, even glitter balls and bows for the small tree he also had gotten you.
After putting all the decorations up and “to celebrate your joyful shopping spree”, as Namjoon had called it, he had once again persuaded you to go to the Christmas market, letting no feeble excuses count. He had been in too good of a mood anyway for you to turn him down. You found it cute when he was all excited and giddy like this.
He had ordered eggnog after eggnog. His infectious enthusiasm had only gone up, not down a tad as you had hoped. But after the third eggnog, you hadn’t minded anymore anyway. Namjoon had entertained you all through the evening, making you laugh and enjoy yourself after a long week of studying and learning. Even though it had just snowed the other day, the eggnog had held you warm through and through, your cheeks feeling hot. Maybe it had also been a little bit because of Namjoon and how he had scooted closer and closer to you throughout the evening, ‘to keep each other warm’ as he had stated.
You had stayed until the booth had closed and the owner had hushed you to finally head home. Given both of your inebriated states, getting home had taken twice as long as it did when you’d left from home to go out.
As you had reached the door, waving a last goodbye to Namjoon who had stumbled clumsily into his own apartment, it had taken you a few minutes until you finally had gotten the key into the hole. You hadn’t even bothered to brush your teeth, only changing into comfy pyjamas – which had been quite the task – and slipping into bed. Dreamland hadn’t waited long to come, and you had fallen sound asleep.
So, to no one’s surprise, you didn’t hear when soft but heavy footsteps approached your apartment in the middle of the night. Didn’t spot the broad shadow that could be seen through the small gap under your door where the light fell in. Didn’t notice when a thick package wrapped with packing paper was pushed through the letter slot of your apartment door.
The package fell to the ground with a gentle thud. The towering figure hummed a merry tune before taking off again. You only turned around in your sleep, mumbling, “No more eggnog, Namjoon”, before it was quiet once more.
The rest of the night went uneventfully, and the package laid peacefully on your door mat until morning came.
A pounding headache. That was what had woken you up. The eggnog hadn’t been a good idea from the start, and you had told Namjoon several times. But even though he had listened to you, he had ignored your reasonable request. He hadn’t really given you a choice to begin with. And you hadn’t wanted to complain. At least he had paid and that was all that had been needed to convince you.
While Namjoon was already producing his own music, you were still a university student majoring in Art. You got by fine with the money your parents sent you and what you earned from your part-time job at the library, but you were still glad for every penny you could keep and save for after university. You dreamed of opening your own business and, heck, you needed a lot of money for that.
When Namjoon had heard of your ideas, he had been in immediately, supporting you in every way possible. Even if it meant paying for your drinks or your museum visits on the weekend. As long as he got to spend time with you, it was worth all his money.
You desperately grabbled for the nightstand. Luckily, you had prepared pain meds and water in advance, even a small piece of toast. Your nights out with Namjoon usually ended like this, so you are accustomed to it.
Sitting up a little, you popped the pills into your mouth first before chucking the water into your throat as if your life depended on it. Once you’d dealt with that, you reached towards the toast, munching on it until it was no more.
You felt better immediately as the medicine worked its way through your system and the toast soaked up the remaining alcohol in your stomach. Slowly the turns in your stomach lessened and until there was one thing overtaking your needs. It was time for coffee.
Slowly, you got up, swaying a little back onto the bed but overall, it was not as bad as you’d had expected. Sure, the eggnog had made your stomach a little weak, but you felt certain it could handle the coffee. Otherwise, you couldn’t make it through the day. Coffee was vital right now.
On the way out of your bedroom, you snatched your long silk gown, putting it on. You headed straight to the coffee machine, pushing the little blinking button so it started grinding the black beans. The soft smell of freshly ground coffee filled the air as you grabbed a big mug from the sink. You sighed and leaned one hip on the counter.
As you waited for the coffee you looked around and your gaze fell onto an exceptionally cheery snowman on your coffee table. You had never been keen on Christmas decorations. They were too bright, too colourful, and too cheesy.
Well, jokes on you. All the things the two of you had bought, the fairy lights, red candles, a few reindeers and snowmen, and some green fir branches, were now spread around your apartment, the small tree chilling next to your TV in the corner. It was hard to say ‘No’ to Namjoon’s puppy eyes. He usually got his way with you.
It had also been his idea to not only put the lights on the curtain rods but to wind them around them, too.
He had held you safely by your waist as you had stood on the ladder to reach up there. His long, slender hands had felt so warm through your clothes that your heart had stuttered for a second and you had gotten the job done rather quickly to get away from this weird feeling that had erupted in your chest. Because you couldn’t admit it to yourself. You couldn’t admit that Namjoon had become more than a best friend to you over the last few years.
But you had to confess; the lights were very very pretty. You even thought about keeping them up there after Christmas. They brought a soft glow around the room that made it feel unbelievably cosy and romantic.
As you absentmindedly grabbed for your finished cup of coffee you couldn’t help but remember the way Namjoon’s skin had glowed in these lights. How mesmerizing he had looked. How hard you had had to keep yourself from putting a hand up to one of his cheeks and caressing his soft skin.
You lost yourself in the memory for a second before you noticed something very peculiar from the corner of your eye. Something very square and brown. It was a package. On your doormat. ‘What in god’s name,’ you thought to yourself as you eyed it in curious suspicion. The post usually never came that early. Especially not on a Saturday. And why had no one rang the bell? It was odd, to say the least.
You left your coffee on the counter, steam still rising in puffy clouds from the cup. Cautiously, you made your way over to the mysterious package that read your full address, but no sender. It was quite big, now that you had gotten closer, and it had you wondering how it had fit through the narrow letter slot. Maybe Namjoon was pulling a prank on you?
Before you picked up the package, you opened the door and checked the hallway, frantically looking left and right. But no one was there, not even Namjoon to cheekily grin at you.
Closing the door behind you, you took the brown package and laid it down on the counter next to your coffee. You eyed it once more while taking a long sip from the beverage. Should you open it? What if there was something… bad or deadly inside? You had heard of such packages before on the news. People sent them to get revenge on ex-partners or enemies. Well, you had no such things… and Namjoon seemed to be out of the picture as well.
After some more staring, curiosity finally got the best of you, and you carefully ripped open the brown packing paper. It revealed a heavy book that was edged in red velvety fabric that had golden ornaments engraved. Imprinted on it was the lettering “Naughty or Nice”. Wait- what?!
Snorting laughter erupted from your chest. This had to be a prank, right? ‘Namjoon’s good,’ you thought to yourself. ‘Keeps hiding until I actually look at the book. Not a very good prank, but alright…’
As you were about to open it, you could hear a key jingling in front of your door and some mumbled curses. ‘Speaking of the devil.’ Namjoon strode through the door in his pyjama and a long gown, his hair looking dishevelled and eyes still half-closed. He had your spare keys which gave him the possibility to let himself in whenever and you didn’t mind. At this point, it had become commonplace.
You watched with an amused grin as he immediately scuffed over to the coffee machine, grabbing another cup from the sink, and turning it on once more. He inhaled the smell just like you did before he turned around to face you.
“Morning, Y/N,” he hummed, and a lop-sided grin adorned his lips. Hell, how did this sleepy look fit him so well? “How is your stomach?”
You crossed your arms and leant back on the counter. “Better than I thought. You?”
“Same, same. I just really craved your coffee. This machine is a literal angel!” He turned back around to grab his coffee and take a big gulp before letting out a satisfied sigh.
“Very funny, by the way.” You pointed at the book behind you, still laying unopened on your counter. “You never have Christmas-pranked me before so that’s a first. But it isn’t one of your best ideas, if I can be honest with you.”
There was a moment of silence. You had expected him to laugh at you or make a clever remark about how he had gotten you to open it. But… nothing. He just blankly stared at you. “What?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Making this book look like Santa’s Naughty or Nice list? Very funny, Namjoon, very funny!” You chuckled a little at him pretending not to know what you were talking about.
He spied over your shoulder, reading the lettering. And shook his head. “Y/N. I… didn’t prank you. This–“ He pointed to the book. “–is nothing I came up with. Though I must say, I think it’s a pretty good idea!” He snickered a little and took another sip of his coffee.
“But–“ You turned around to the book. “–who sent it to me then? I don’t know who else would try and prank me…” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, taking another look at the packing paper. Still nothing but your address.
“Have you opened it yet?”
“No, I was just about to when you came through the door.” You put a hand on the binding. The velvet fabric felt soft under your fingertips and the golden lettering glittered in the glim of the fairy lights. It looked so… real.
Carefully, you opened it, coming face to face with a blank page. Maybe the others? You browsed to the next page. And the next. And the next. But they were all blank, not even a tiny little bit of ink to be seen. ‘Weird…’
Skimming through the rest of the book, you looked for anything peculiar. Nothing. “It’s empty,” you told Namjoon, while going back to the first page and leaving it open.
You heard shuffling on the floor and suddenly Namjoon leaned over your shoulder to look at the book. He stretched out his hand to skim through it as well. He was so close. You could feel the heat radiating off his body and his breath on your neck as he let out a confused huff.
When he stepped back from you after inspecting the book, you wished him back closer behind you. ‘Stop that,’ you scolded yourself in your head. ‘He is your best friend!’
“Well, it actually looks like someone pulled a prank on you,” Namjoon stated while making himself another cup of coffee. He usually runs on three. On a good day. That you knew his coffee consumption so well said a lot about how regularly he came over in the morning to use your coffee machine.
“Apparently…”
Loud bass suddenly disrupted the morning, booming through the wall to your left. ‘No, not again!’ It was your other neighbour… Jungkook. He kept it down on most days. But he always pulled this on a Saturday morning, and you were sure he was doing it on purpose just to annoy you. You had banged on the wall a few times before. On some days he even turned the music down after your knocking complaint. But today, it was on a whole other level. As if he knew you had been out late and had a mild hangover.
“Ugh, I’ll swear I’ll punch him some day,” you mumbled while pinching your eyebrows in frustration.
Namjoon knew you weren’t kidding. Jungkook had been getting on your nerves ever since he had moved in next door. Before him, there lived a nice and quiet lady who occasionally baked chocolate cookies for the two of you and had always put something nice in front of your door during Christmas time. Now, there was Jungkook. Student, party animal, and the type to listen to music so loud you couldn’t hear your own thoughts.
“I wouldn’t mind,” Namjoon said. “But I also don’t want to have to visit you in prison during Christmas time.” He chuckled lightly, running a hand through his hair before chucking down his coffee.
Suddenly, you heard a rustling noise of paper coming from the counter. The book! It was turning its pages on its own. “Holy-“
You stepped in front of the counter, Namjoon following closely, eyes as wide as the moon. “How is that possible?” he whispered while peering over your shoulder again.
A golden light bloomed from the Naughty or Nice book and the two of you just stared at in great awe as sparkles danced around the room. “I’m usually not one to believe in magic,” Namjoon muttered under his breath. “But this is a whole new thing…”
The turning stopped and the pages gently dropped down. Beautiful, curved letters emerged, writing your neighbour’s name. They shone golden in the light. “What is happening?” you hissed while intently watching the book. Namjoon just shrugged his shoulders, speechless.
Jeon Jungkook: always leaves his trash in front of Mrs. Kim’s apartment door
Underneath was a moving picture, showing Jungkook looking around frantically before putting his trash bag on Mrs. Kim’s doormat and a more detailed description of what was going on. You gasped out in disbelief. “Mrs. Kim is always so nice! How dare he!?”
Namjoon let out an angry huff. “You’ve got a good point but-“ His forehead crinkled in confusion and scepticism. “How does it do that?”
You shrugged, turning the page to see if it had a built-in display. But… there was nothing. It was just a normal page like any other. You turned back to the picture of Jungkook where he had gotten caught in the act. By whom? You didn’t know, could only guess… But no, this was not possible. Santa didn’t exist. But… an idea came to your head.
“Hmm, let’s put this to a test,” you said as the pounding bass continued to boom through the wall. You left the book open, the image of Jungkook engraved in your head, as you turned on your heels and made your way over to the door.
“You actually gonna go over there?” Namjoon trailed behind you, not sure if this was the right thing to do. You definitely had a reason to be angry at Jungkook. But what if this was all just a scam? Well, it felt far too real for that, but Namjoon wasn’t yet ready to call his beliefs into question. This was insane.
You nodded and opened the door. “He has been getting on my nerves for a few weeks now. It’s time to put this to a stop.” You gave him one last determined book before stepping out into the hallway.
Namjoon shook his head in amusement at your vendetta and stopped at your doorstep, leaning against the frame watching you. This was your fight. He wouldn’t get between the frontlines. He knew your anger all too well.
You rapped viciously on the door; quite sure Jungkook wouldn’t hear any of it. And of course, the door didn’t open and the music blared on. So, you resorted to a more effective method. You pressed the button of the bell and held it down. ‘I will have you answer your door even if it takes the whole freaking day.’
It took a few seconds, but you heard the music fading and someone swearing behind the door. It worked. A malicious smirk adorned your lips. You weren’t even nervous, more excited to try the spicy information you had acquired about him. The keys jingled in the keyhole and an annoyed face appeared in the ajar door. “What is it?”
You crossed your arms and put on your most intimidating look. The secret from the book gave you a hell of a confident boost. “Jungkook,” you started, “I’ve told you many many times to quiet it down.”
He rolled his eyes and huffed. “I know. I’m sorry but-“
You cut him off immediately. “No buts. You’re either gonna tone it down from now on or…”
“Or what? You’re trying to threaten me?” He laughed and threw his head back. “That’s new. Well, you’ve got nothing on me, Y/N.”
You squinted your eyes at him, and a smile grew on your face. “You sure?”
Jungkook leaned against the door frame while looking bored. The arrogant look on his face gave you the rest of the encouragement you needed. “Well,” you swirled one of your hair strands around your finger, “I know you’re putting your trash bags on Mrs. Kim’s doormat, so you don’t have to take it out yourself…”
It took a moment for Jungkook to realise what you just said. But when he finally did, his jaw almost dropped down to his knees. “How-“
“The poor woman. I think she deserves to know…” You turned around, feeling the power pulsating in your hands. It was electrifying! You slowly strode over to your apartment.
“Y/N!” Jungkook called out after you, desperation apparent in his voice. “I-“ He dropped his head in defeat, all pride and arrogance had left his body. “If you don’t tell her, I promise I’m gonna tone it down from now on,” he caved in.
“You better,” you just answered and walked away, leaving a speechless Jungkook by his door.
Namjoon snickered as you entered your apartment again, finding the whole situation very amusing. “Have you seen his face? He was so stunned!” Both of you burst out into a fit of laughter, needing a few seconds to calm yourselves down again.
You went back to the still open book. “So it tells the truth…” you stated while tracing the letters with your fingers when they suddenly started to disappear. “Oh! They’re vanishing!”
“Probably because you called him out on that,” Namjoon assumed, looking at the now empty page and then at you. “You know what that means… right?”
You turned it over in your head for a few seconds before you answered Namjoon’s gaze with a mischievous smile. “Let’s discover some secrets this Christmas!”
And so, the two of you went on to discover the hidden secrets and misdeeds of all of your neighbours. The book was never wrong. Not when it told you that Mrs. Kim had a secret fling with Mr. Sung from floor 5 and they were acting like giddy teenagers, that Mrs. Lee let her dog pee on Mrs. Park’s door mat once in a while because they couldn’t stand each other, that Soonyoung from second floor liked to bathe in pure milk occasionally, that Yeji from first floor stole Mr. Chew’s newspaper now and then because he was rude to basically everyone in the building, that Taehyung from fourth floor had sang Christmas carols in the middle of the night for Yeji because he had been out to drink, and many many more.
Some of them you used for your amusement, but most of them were kept between the both of you. You felt closer to Namjoon than ever before. Sharing and keeping secrets about your neighbours bound you together. And Christmas time was a blast, for the both of you! You went out once in a while to the Christmas market again but usually you kept your noses in the Naughty or Nice book, awaiting the next secret to appear. So, Christmas time went by in a happy blur.
After coming home from another one of your merry adventures, you began to realise that this might all be over soon. Actually, Christmas evening was tomorrow already and Namjoon would probably be off to his parents. You didn’t want to stop discovering all these secrets with Namjoon. You had spent a lot of time together; it had been so much fun. And you liked being around him, you knew that. You weren’t ready to admit it, but you had fallen in love with him even more by now. Even after all these years, his way of living and his wisdom still amazed you to no end.
Your thoughts were suddenly disrupted by Namjoon as the both of you reached your apartment door. “Y/N?”
“Yes,” you answered, shaking yourself out of your thoughts. Namjoon stood in front of you, nervously wrenching his hands. You had never seen him skittish before. Had something happened?
He took a deep breath before he began to speak. “I was… wondering if you wanted to spent Christmas together?” Namjoon nervously scratched his head. “I-“ he stumbled over his own words for a moment. “I don’t want you to be alone for Christmas. And my parents won’t be at home anyway. So, I was wondering- I mean-“ He rambled on and gestured wildly between the both of you.
To stop him, you gently put your hand on his arm. “Yes,” you answered simply and smiled at him happily, not able to contain your excitement at his request. Your heart was beating in your chest. Spending Christmas with Namjoon was a dream come true.
“I... would love to.” You rubbed your arm awkwardly while not being able to meet his eyes. You were sure he would be able to read your confused feelings for him right there.
He let out a small huff of relief. “Good, good… We can go grocery shopping together tomorrow if you want. So we can pick something to eat that we both like.”
“That sounds like a great idea. Meet in the morning as usual?” you asked, fidgeting with your jacket sleeve.
Namjoon nodded. “I will cook of course. You will be my guest! Also, your cooking skills might be a little insufficient for Christmas…” Mischievousness gleamed in his eyes and you just shook your head, laughing a little.
“I think my cooking skills are fine as they are. It’s not my fault you don’t like the food that I cook!” you exclaimed and hit his shoulder playfully. “Also, your food might taste better than mine. But you’re definitely more chaotic than I am!”
“Okay, okay,” he put his hands up in defeat. “You’ve got a point. I’m still cooking though.” He took off his beanie to run a hand through his hair. He stretched his arms out, motioning for you to give him a goodbye-hug.
Your skin tingled as you obliged. His hands rested on your back as he tugged you close. “Good night, Y/N,” he whispered into your ear, eliciting a shiver running down your back. Gosh, his voice and his soft lips were hovering right next to your ear. It created images in your head you shouldn’t be thinking about in the proximity of your best friend, but you couldn’t help yourself.
You swallowed a big lump in your throat. “Good night to you too,” you whispered back with a hoarse voice, heart still fluttering. He could hear the rapid beating for sure.
Both of you stayed in the hug longer than necessary, thinking about what would become of your adventures once Christmas was over. You were sure the book would disappear, that its owner would come to get it.
You sighed before stepping away from Namjoon, giving him a small smile before pulling out your keys. He went over to his door, a jingling noise reaching your ears. You looked over your shoulder before entering your apartment.
“Sweet dreams, Y/N,” Namjoon called over in a hushed voice before he disappeared behind his own door. Little did you and he know what effect these last few words would have on you…
Wanton sounds escaped your mouth as your hands grasped fiercely for your sheets. Waves of pleasure rolled through your body as you felt a desperate mouth latching onto your clit, tongue poking out to gratify your little bundle of nerves. Your eyes rolled back into your head. It felt… overwhelming.
You couldn’t hold in a lewd moan as the tongue worked magic on you. “Please–“ You couldn’t form a whole sentence without being interrupted by your own moans.
You felt a hand softly caressing your thigh. “Y/N,” a familiar voice reached your ear, making you perk up. Was this… real? You lifted yourself on your elbows to see if you were right with your guess.
Looking up from between your legs was a tousled Namjoon, cheeks red and lips glistening in the light of your fairy lights. He looked like an angel with his skin glowing golden and his hair illuminated.
It felt like a dream come true…
It wasn’t the morning light waking you up nor the loud traffic noise from the street in front of your apartment building. No. What woke you up was the growing wetness between your legs. Your heart beat loudly in your chest, a light film of sweat covered your forehead. Well, that had been… hot.
You had had dreams of Namjoon before. Funny ones, sad ones, even ones where the two of you had been dating. But with things like this, you had only been daydreaming about thus far. It had you all riled up, a little embarrassed, but first and foremost horny.
His head between your legs and his tongue on your clit had felt so real. Oh, what you’d give to actually get to feel that. But you were sure that it would remain something that stayed in your daydreams, when you had to release some friction behind your bedroom doors.
You sighed, pushing the thick blanket to the side. You had to take care of the mess between your legs and there was only one place that always helped: the shower. You had to get this dream out of your head before Namjoon would come over. Otherwise you wouldn’t be able to look into his eyes without thinking of the sinful scene that repeated itself again and again in your head.
‘Let’s get this over with,’ you pushed yourself to get out of bed and into the shower. As if you didn’t enjoy this…
As you sat down by the book again with a big cup of fresh coffee, you were actually wondering if you’d ever appear on the list. Or Namjoon. And which secret of yours it would be. So far, it hadn’t spilled any of yours. But it would be merely a matter of time until the pages would reveal what you had kept from one another. Even though there were barely any secrets between the two of you. Only this… this was kind of a major one.
Absent-mindedly, you browsed through the book again. What secret would reveal itself today? Maybe about this dude all up on floor 7 that was always wearing a beanie and sunglasses or that girl from over the street that was walking her dog up and down the street.
Someone was entering the apartment. Namjoon rounded the corner and came into your view. He was also still in his morning clothes, his feet hidden beneath two slippers. Your gazes met shortly, a quick nod exchanged and gentle smiles, before he made a turn.
“And?” He strolled over to the coffee machine, slippers scratching on the floor. “Anything new?” He nodded towards the book sprawled out in front of you.
“I haven’t really checked yet, give me a second.” You concentrated back on the book, pages sliding through your fingers as you looked for a new secret until you found it. You didn’t really pay any attention at first. But then you read your name in big, curved letters. A quiet gasp slipped past your lips.
Checking to see if Namjoon was still making coffee, you hoped he was not aware of your little slip up. He happily worked away, putting coffee beans into the machine, whistling ‘Jingle Bells Rock’ to the puckering sound of the milk frother.
Then, you turned your attention back to the book. When you read Has naughty dreams of their best friend in small letters, your heart sped up and your breathing got ragged. Underneath it was, like it had always been the case before, a more detailed description of what had happened. And a picture of you writhing and moaning beneath the sheets. No, why today?!
The words in front of you blurred as you tried to fathom the consequences if Namjoon came to read this. Your friendship would be over. He would never speak to you again. Hell, what would he think of you?!
You couldn’t let that happen. He was the only thing in your life that kept you sane. That could not all be thrown away. You quickly closed the book, thinking of something to distract Namjoon.
Unfortunately, the loud thump startled Namjoon. He turned around as he heard the sudden noise. He eyed you for a second and then noticed the closed book under your hands. He put down the coffee spoon he was holding. “Uhm… Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Your eyes are like… this wide.” He put a fair distance between his thumb and his pointer finger.
Quickly shaking your head, you scrambled for words. “It’s nothing. I-I thought I…” Yeah, what did you think? It was hard to lie when Namjoon looked at you like that. Your brain couldn’t come up with anything. Instead, you just gulped heavily.
Namjoon’s coffee was now forgotten, its owner too curious about what you had read and seen. He had, of course, noticed your nervous behaviour, growing suspicious of what you were trying to do. His slippers scraped along the floor again as he casually made his way over to you. With his gaze never leaving your face, he followed your every move.
Clambering for the book, you secured it in your arms before Namjoon could reach for it. He couldn’t find out. Not about the dream. Not about the feelings you held for him. But especially not about the dream. The sinful scenes replayed themselves in your head again and you felt your cheeks heating up once more. “There is nothing in there,” you exclaimed, trying to sound as convincing as possible. But there was a crack in your voice. And you could see it in his eyes. He knew.
Scrambling to sit up right on the couch, you shook your head ‘No’, keeping the book tight in your clutches. Over your dead body would it fall into his hands.
“If there is nothing to see, why are you keeping it from me?” He tried to reason with you, stretching out a hand towards the book that you kept clutched in front of your chest, your arms wrapped around it like it was the most precious treasure you had ever possessed.
Namjoon was not one to accept a ‘No’, you knew that. You could spot the determined look in his eyes already. There was nothing that would keep him from finding out. And that had you scared like hell.
You could only stare at him, not having an answer for his very true and logical question. He would always catch you with his well thought-out reasoning. It made you want to tear your hair out every time. Right now, though, you were paralysed by fear.
“Well, you leave me no choice,” he approached you slowly, trying to read you, trying to calculate which escape route you would take. Because whatever stood in that book, had you all jittery and he had to know why. Though he knew that you would never show him voluntarily.
Panic, your brain screamed. And your body scrambled up from the couch, trying to get away from Namjoon. You still clutched the book in front of your chest with both hands.
“No, no, no!” he lunged forward, reaching for you. “You’re not getting away!” He got your left foot before you could escape safely from the couch. Your body fell back onto the cushions, knocking the breath out of your lungs. But you didn’t let go of the book, no matter the pain it would cost.
In his haste to prevent your escape, he knocked down a few wooden reindeers and snowmen from the coffee table. Luckily, there was no glass there. You had told him right in the store that you would not be buying any glass decorations if he would be around. With his clumsiness, he would knock them down within mere seconds. Hell, he had almost dropped something right then and there in the shop. But you both had other things to worry about right now than your Christmas decorations.
“Namjoon,” you shout out anxiously. “Let go of me!” But his grip on you didn’t ease up.
“Not before you show me the freaking book, Y/N!” And he kept his word, his hands desperately trying to seize the book from your tight grip. But you wouldn’t give up so easily. You once more tried to get away from him, grasping for the armrest and pulling like your life depended on it. But he was just too strong, with one hand grabbling for the book and the other holding down your legs.
While fighting him off, you didn’t notice how he’d crawled up your body, getting in nearer reach of the book. And suddenly he was way too close to your face, hovering above you in such an intimate way he never had before.
There had been moments of course. Where he had caged you in a little at your door, when he had leaned in too close, when he had pulled you into his warm embrace… But that had been something different.
Now he laid on top of you, covering your body with his. His chest heaved against yours as he tried to catch his breath from fighting with you. His grey-dyed hair fell in streaks into his eyes and once more his skin glowed in the warm fuzzy light of the fairy lights that framed his head. For a second, the both of you just... stopped.
He looked deeply into your eyes; his pupils overshadowed with an emotion you couldn’t grasp. Your heart beat even faster and your brain felt like it would explode any minute. Your senses were heightened, and you could feel his skin burning on yours. It was… ravishing. Your body couldn’t get enough of it already.
Suddenly, he snapped the book out of your hand, forcing an evil laughter out of his mouth and the moment was gone. He had shamelessly used your messed up state to his advantage and now the book was in his hands.
He scrambled back up from his position on top of you, quickly getting away from you and taking the book with him so you wouldn’t come up with the idea of snatching it back from him. Well, you had resigned already anyway. There was no way you could stop the inevitable from happening now. You said your last goodbye to your friendship. He took one last look at your dishevelled and defeated state before he plopped down on the armchair.
Thump, thump, thump. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears like the drums of that one Christmas song that they always played on the radio, and your stomach took a heavy leap. No, you couldn’t watch this. It was just too much to handle. You grabbed for the plush Santa Namjoon had gotten you as a joke last year, and hid your face in the red fabric of his cloak. You peeked out anxiously, watching Namjoon.
Pages rustled as Namjoon slowly opened the book. His heart beat just as fast as yours as he searched for the right page. Not because he was anxious, but because of his excitement as to what he would get to read on that page. And then he finally found it.
He was not surprised that it was about you. He had actually predicted that. Why else would you react that way if this didn’t reveal something about you? But the content had him gasping out in astonishment.
To actually believe it, he had to read it more than once. It beat all of his wildest dreams. Not only had you caught feelings for him, but he had of course caught feelings for you as well. And quite some time ago too. He had wanted to confess more than once but he hadn’t had the guts. He was very afraid of losing you as well so this came as a very pleasant surprise to him.
Unable to help it, he read the passage once more and let his gaze on the image of you linger a little longer, feeling arousal crawl up his body. He had caught you staring at him here and there, when going for a swim in the summer or when he read a book, when you didn’t think he would notice. He had never given much thought to it though. He would have never guessed that you had thought about him, dreamed about him.
He needed a few to gather himself, to brace himself for what was to come. He couldn’t let this slide just like that now that he knew that you felt the same for him. Now that he knew what you were craving. And he wanted to give you exactly that. All night if you wanted to. He wanted to give you the pleasure that you deserved, see you writhing underneath his fingers, calling out his name so that everyone could hear what he did to you.
A mischievous grin passed over his face. He would take care of that wish of yours, as a Christmas gift. That he promised to himself and gathered all of his confidence for. His heartbeat was going through the roof but he didn’t want you to know, and tried to keep a calm face.
You peeked out once more as he closed the book. You tried to read his face, but there was nothing to work with. Had your friendship been ruined already? Would he just leave and never say a word to you ever again? You expected the worst, already feeling tears prick in your eyes.
Namjoon slowly got up from the armchair and now you were sure he would leave the apartment. You felt embarrassment, shame, and regret overwhelm you. But there was something in you that fought back. Your eyes grew big, you couldn’t just let him go like this. “Namjoon, I-“
But he cut you off mid-sentence. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N.” He shook his head, putting the book down on the table and shoved it over towards you. Your gaze fell back to the image of you, a moaning mess in the bed. You couldn’t handle looking at it and instead gazed up at Namjoon and being met with an expression that you hadn’t expected at all.
He looked like a boy who had gotten the biggest present for Christmas, but there was also something a lot less innocent in his eyes. Holding your gaze, he came back over to the couch and crouched in front of you.
“You’ve been –“ He swallowed visibly, nervousness getting the best of him for a second, before he proceeded with confidence “–a very naughty girl, Y/N, haven’t you?” He cocked an eyebrow while putting both of his hands next to your legs that rested on the edge of the couch.
A shiver ran down your spine at his words. Never had you imagined that Namjoon would speak like this to you. You could not say much, your throat going dry, and just slowly nodded your head.
“Hmm, thought so,” he answered while letting his gaze wander over your form. “Well, what do we do about that? Naughty girls need to be punished, right?” His eyes drifted back to your face, satisfied he took notice of the effect he had on you. How your legs unconsciously rubbed together at his every movement.
With the heat rising from you, he felt drawn to you.
“But I think you’ve been pretty nice this year. I think we leave the punishment for another day and instead–“ He nodded towards the book, referring to the description of your dream under the picture. “– keep working on this.” He turned back towards you. “What do you think, Y/N?”
His words were music in your ears. This was more than you could wish for. You pinched yourself for a second, making sure it wasn’t another dream of yours, that you hadn’t just fallen asleep again in your bed. But it was as real as it could get. Arousal is already pooling in your panties, Namjoon’s deep voice resounding in your head.
By now, he was drawing small, soft circles on the skin of your thigh, patiently waiting for your answer. He wouldn’t do anything about it as long as you hadn’t given your consent. There was still a little voice inside of him that wasn’t sure if you really felt the same. He had no time to think too much about it though.
You cleared your throat, the effect he had on you clear as day. “I’d… love that.” You shyly answered, carefully putting a hand on Namjoon’s cheek. He leaned into your touch immediately, closing his eyes for a second to enjoy the feeling of the gentle action.
He pushed himself up a little, his face hovering in front of yours. You held your breath, excited for what was to come. He was even closer than before. You could feel puffs of his hot breath gently caressing your lips. His eyes kept yours caged, his pupils blown looking like black holes that swallowed you to take you to another dimension.
With his hand moving up to the side of your neck, it gingerly brushed against the skin and he left it at the nape of your neck. His face inched closer, barely any space left between your lips now. Your thumb grazed over his cheek, the skin underneath warm and tender. You could stay like this forever.
“May… may I kiss you?” Namjoon asked, gaze drifting between your shining eyes and your tempting lips. You took his breath away, making him weak in the knees. Why hadn’t he confessed to you sooner? He could have had it all already. You had both missed out on so much. But there was still so much time to make up for it all.
It took all of your willpower to not kiss him right then and there, but to answer his question first. You looked deep into his eyes, “Yes, I beg you to.”
And that was all that was needed for Namjoon to desperately press his lips against yours without hesitating for even a second. Both of you closed your eyes, relishing in the moment of the first kiss shared between the two of you. It was not at all how you had expected it to feel but so much more. Your heart took a leap at his soft lips that moved so lovingly against yours while his thumb stroked your neck, goosebumps rising on your skin.
Namjoon had to take a break to catch his breath, soft laughter escaping his lips. His hand remained at the back of your neck and so did yours on his cheek. But this break didn’t last long because both of you were already hungry for more. Your other hand went into his hair while your mouth landed back on his.
Tugging a little at the strands, he couldn’t help but let out a quiet moan, his lips opening to the kiss. His tongue darted out, tapping against your lower lip and begging for entrance. You let him stew a little until both of your tongues met in a heated battle.
Slowly, Namjoon could feel himself getting hard. Your sweet lips got the best of him and he couldn’t do anything against it when his mind imagined them wrapped around his cock. He could feel it twitch in his pyjama pants, begging for attention. But Namjoon wanted for you to cum first. The outlook of getting to taste you with his tongue between your folds was too promising.
In fact, he didn’t want to wait any longer. As much as he enjoyed making out with you, he wanted to dig into the real fun. He broke the kiss, pressing his forehead softly against yours. This time you had to catch your breath.
“Are you sure you want to do this, Y/N?” Namjoon whispered softly, asking for your permission to go on.
You pecked his lips adoringly. “I mean I’ve been dreaming about it.” Both of you chuckled lightly, caressing each other’s skin. “I couldn’t wish for more this Christmas.” You had to stifle a laugh. This was the most interesting Christmas you had ever had. And you loved it.
Namjoon made his way over to your ear with featherlight kisses to nibble on your earlobe before he hushed into your ear, making you shiver at the nickname he used for you, “I want you to tell me if you feel uncomfortable, baby girl.”
“I will,” you breathed back, enjoying the shivers that ran down your spine as Namjoon’s breath tickled your skin. You buzzed with excitement, awaiting his treatment.
“Okay, baby girl,” he moved down from your ear to your neck, nipping at the skin and grazing his teeth over your shoulder a little. “I can’t wait to taste you.”
While your breathing got heavier at these few words already, he gently pushed your thighs apart with his hands, his upper body moving in the space in between to have better access to your neck. His hands wandered over your inner thighs, setting your skin on fire and your blood boiling.
Another quiet moan escaped your mouth. It all felt just too heavenly. And it made Namjoon proud to know he was making you feel good. You deserved it and he was ready to give it to you for the rest of your life if it meant he would hear your sweet little moans.
As he nibbled lightly on your neck, his hands crawled up your shirt, pushing it up over your chest. His mouth unlatched to attach itself again to one of your nipples immediately, drawing sloppy circles around it. While one of his hands held up the shirt, the other sweetly caressed your other breast, brushing against the sensitive bud and making it stand up, aroused.
Throwing your head back, you pushed your upper body into Namjoon’s face. The treatment he blessed you with was paradisiac. If it was up to you, he could do that for the rest of eternity. Still, there was one place where you needed him a lot more…
“Joonie.” His nickname left your lips in a faint, breathless hush. He let out a breathy moan against your nipple. God, now his mind would forever replay this moment and your needy plea whenever someone would call him by this nickname. You were his rise and his fall.
He pecked your nipple one last time before looking up from in between your breasts with hooded eyes. “Yes, baby girl?”
“I need you,” you breathed out, hands still playing with his soft hair.
He cocked his head, one of his eyebrows rising. “Need me how?”
You let out a quiet, frustrated sigh. He knew exactly how, teasing you in a vulnerable moment. With your cheeks heating up, you looked away for a second. This was still very unchartered territory to you.
Feeling one of his hands back on your cheek, he tilted your head to look at him. Eyes full of genuity, he softly told you, “You don’t need to be ashamed when you’re with me. You can freely tell me what you want because I want to make you feel good.” He took your hand and pressed a lingering kiss to your temple, softly muttering against your skin, “I want you to feel safe with me.”
It was easy to tell he was being serious and honest. How did you deserve this man? You mouthed a quiet ‘thank you’ to him, feeling more at ease now. And it gave you the confidence to state your desire.
“Joonie… I need your mouth on me and your tongue in me, please,” you begged as you didn’t break off the eye contact. His eyes lit up at your words and he nodded eagerly, pressing one more kiss on your knuckles before he let your hand go.
“If you need something to hold onto, my hair is as good as anything else,” Namjoon told you, winking at you saucily before levelling his head with your clothed core. You held in a breath as he put a featherlight kiss to your inner thigh before nipping on the smooth skin.
His hands wandered over your lower legs towards your waist where they played with the hem of your pyjama shorts, ghosting over your skin. He could smell your wetness and it drove him crazy. He was just as riled up as you were.
He looked up from between your legs, giving you a very similar view as your dream had. You still couldn’t believe that this was all actually happening.
“Baby girl? Could you do me a favor?” His hands slipped back under your shirt for a second, drawing soft circles on your lower back.
You nodded eagerly, willing to do anything as long as he’d continue his exploration down your pants.
“Could you lift your hips for me a little?” He nodded towards your hips. “We need to get these out of the way.”
You obeyed his request, leaning back while lifting up your hips from the couch. All you wanted was his mouth on you.
Namjoon sucked in a breath, preparing himself for the view he was about to get. He had dreamed of that moment many, many times. In the shower when the thoughts of you got over his head, in bed when he had had another vivid dream of you in his arms.
He gently pulled down both your pyjama shorts and your panties, dragging them slowly over your legs to fully enjoy this moment. The clothing items in question hit one of the snowmen in the face as Namjoon carelessly threw them over his shoulder.
You felt the cold air hit your sensitive skin, dragging in a breath as it came in contact with the rough material of the couch. You needed release desperately right now, even little things like these throwing you off. You sank back into the couch a little.
Heartbeat strumming in his ears, Namjoon’s gaze wandered between your legs, laying eyes on your glistening folds for the first time. It was a sight to behold, at least for him. “Fuck, Y/N,” he muttered under his breath, dragging one hand through his hair while lowering back down between your legs.
“Let me make you feel good,” he whispered while pushing his arms under your legs and pulling them up on his shoulders so he could get better access. You relaxed your upper body on the backrest while shifting your hips up to the edge of the couch so that not only you were comfortable, but it would also be easier for Namjoon.
He gave you one last smile before pressing his head between your legs, his hair pleasantly tickling the inner skin of your thighs. You could feel hot puffs of breath hitting your sensitive folds, making you shiver around him. He hummed lightly, pleased at your reaction.
With his hands gently holding down your thighs, he pressed soft kisses around your pussy, nipping at the skin here and there and biting down softly. He closed his eyes, savoring the last moment before he would get to taste you.
With one hand holding you up, you entangled the other back into his hair, threading through the strands. Your soft gasps filled the air, encouraging Namjoon on.
Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore, dropping a sloppy kiss onto your pussy. Tongue darting out between his lips, he took a long lick along your glistening folds. You tasted so good, he was glad that you would be the first meal of his day besides the coffee.
A strangled moan reached his hair and he opened his eyes to watch you throw your head back in pleasure. You looked like a goddess in the dim light of the morning and the fairy lights, the sinful image burned into his mind forever.
One of his hands reached around your leg to spread your folds for him, your clit coming into view. He latched his mouth onto it, sucking it in like a starved man.
Waves of pleasure rolled over you, feet pressing down on Namjoon’s back. If he kept this up, you would be falling apart in mere minutes. Your hands tugged on his hair, urging him to continue his treatment of your pussy. “Don’t stop,” you breathed out.
He replaced his lips with his thumb, caressing your bundle of nerves while his mouth moved further down. His tongue hungrily lapped at your walls, desperate to catch every taste it could get.
Your hips moved on your own as they pressed themselves against his face willingly, desperate for a release. You could feel your orgasm slowly approaching as Namjoon worked his magic on you.
As his tongue found your entrance, he slowly pushed it inside, before swirling it around a little. You gasped for air as you could feel it massaging your walls, back arching up from the couch. After letting you adjust to the feeling of his tongue inside you, he started darting it in and out at a rapid pace, thumb still fumbling your clit.
His nickname fell from your lips like a waterfall, wonderful music to his ears. You begged him not to stop, promises of you being close spurred him on, going down on you even faster. He could feel his rock-hard cock straining against his pyjama pants, begging to be released. But it was not yet the time.
He needed you to cum all over his tongue first and, hell, he would make sure of that. Feeling your walls contracting around his tongue, he put a little more pressure on your clit, circling and rubbing it gently with his fingers, trying to take you over the edge. You were almost there, he could feel it.
“Joonie, fuck, I am-” The sentence got lost between a heavy mess of moans and whimpers as you finally came with one last stroke around Namjoon’s tongue. You closed your eyes, orgasm blazing through your body in pleasurable waves.
Namjoon lapped up everything he could get, guiding you through your orgasm. As the moans and the whimpers lessened, his mouth, albeit grudgingly, detached from your folds, pressing one last kiss to your inner thigh before he looked up about you through his lashes.
As you looked down, you were met with a very vivid image of your last night’s dream as Namjoon’s skin glowed from your juices that were smeared all around his mouth. His hair had fallen into his eyes, not able to hide the playful glint in his eyes. His cheeks were a flushed red, chest heaving for air.
“That was… amazing,” you whispered as you cupped his cheek, thumb caressing the hot skin. You leaned over him, stealing a kiss and tasting yourself on his tongue. “Thank you.”
Namjoon chuckled lightly, taking pride in making you feel so good. He nuzzled his face in your neck, breathing in your delicate scent. “I think we both actually have someone else to thank.” Both of your gazes fell onto the book that still laid open on the coffee table.
You grinned from ear to ear at his words. “Well, thank you, Santa, I guess then? For helping us idiots?” Both of you couldn’t hold in your laughter at the situation. What a naughty Christmas it had been for sure!
Quietness settled over the two of you for a minute as you enjoyed each other’s company. As Namjoon slowly got up from his kneeling position, you noticed his hard manhood through his pants. Licking your lips, you felt yourself getting wet again. Your hunger for Namjoon had only just awakened.
“How about… a shower?” you proposed, cocking a head at Namjoon. “I think it’s time I’ll take care of you.” Pushing yourself up from the couch, you let your hands roam freely over his upper body.
Namjoon snaked a hand around your waist, pulling you against him. “As if I could say no to that.” You could feel his cock through the soft fabric of his pants pressing against your thigh. Namjoon leaned down, his lips against your ear.
“Merry Christmas, Y/N,” he whispered as he softly started kissing you again under the shining lights of the fairy lights and a mistletoe magically grew down from the ceiling. Santa has his way in fulfilling wishes…
© nottodayjjk 2021 - all rights reserved.
#nottodayjjk#xmas in july#christmas in july#a hoeliday well spent#namjoon x reader#namjoon x female reader#namjoon au#namjoon humor#namjoon fluff#namjoon smut#namjoon romance#namjoon fanfic#namjoon oneshot#knj au#knj smut#knj romance#knj fluff#knj#knj humor#knj x reader#thebtswritersclub
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