#leave december alone she already has so much to do with holidays

[lyxchen]

People put all their stuff in december. Christmas is in december. That's all I can handle!! Why is everything else Also in december????

#i am going to two concerts #also bttmw 4 is in december #and i want to go there but i would need a weekend with nothing happening before or after to be emotionally ready for that #and i don't have that #and then also Everyone's birthday is in december for some reason?? #leave december alone she already has so much to do with holidays #also it's in winter #everything is cold and gray and nhhgrhh #do you think Anyone wants to stand outside the place where your concert is in line ik the freezing cold for probably Hours?? #No #no they don't #(same goes for sumemr btw why do you think it's smart to have your event in july??) #you know what would be a good time for events and concerts and stuff? #spring #spring is lovely #people are all happy because it's getting warmer but not too warm and the winter depression leaves and there's no big holidays that take up #all of my brain space and it's generally just really nice #so #less things in winter (specifically december) and more things in spring please <3 #lea's random thoughts

[steddielations]

Of course Steve’s birthday is on Christmas.

It’s like the universe aligned perfectly for his parents to ignore his existence. Sure, he got enough presents to cover both when he was younger, when his parents wanted a perfect family holiday card to send out, but it was never about Steve.

When he got older, it was so easy for them to wrap it all up in one, mail him a check from whatever city, until the cards stopped saying happy birthday at all. Steve started wrapping it all up in one too. If his parents were going to leave him alone on Christmas and forget his birthday, it’s better at the same time, one less day of the year to be disappointed.

He hates December. He hates winter. He hates being surrounded by all those pretty lights taunting him for being alone in the dark.

He sort of forgets he has a birthday, until the last couple of years with Robin and the kids. He always tells them his Christmas present can double as his birthday present. Robin never goes for that though, she only gets him a birthday present.

Now comes Eddie. He doesn’t know about the wrap it up in one deal. He doesn’t know that Steve gets all broody around the subject. He’s just sitting next to Steve on the couch, going on about the fishing trip he’s taking Wayne on for his upcoming birthday.

It sounds nice. It’s only one weekend. Steve shouldn’t feel a pit in his stomach that already misses Eddie. They’re just friends, they can’t spend every weekend together, as much as Steve likes tagging along with whatever Eddie’s doing, he has to give him space.

“Yeah so it’s nothing compared to a big Harrington bash,” Eddie teases, passing Steve the joint, “Say, am I cool enough now to be invited to your birthday rager this year? When is it anyway?”

And that’s a simple question, but Steve doesn’t know what it is about Eddie that just draws the truth out of him, that makes him give the not simple answer. He blows out smoke and all the years of forgotten birthdays wrapped in one check and a Christmas card with it.

It’s too much, he’s too much and he starts to apologize, but Eddie cuts him off with a certain intensity he gets sometimes.

“Well, starting right now, fuck that. When do you want your birthday to be?”

Steve chuckles, tries to brush it off, “What? Eddie, c’mon. It’s not a big deal, dude.”

“No, seriously. When do you want your birthday to be, Steve?”

It’s so stupid. It’s so silly sitting in Eddie Munson’s living room trying to decide which day he’d prefer for his birthday, when he’s barely holding back saying how he sort of wishes he didn’t have one at all. He thinks Eddie knows anyway, without him having to say it, so he makes it easier. Eddie always makes it easier.

It takes a couple of tries, a couple cups full of torn pieces of paper with scribbled numbers randomly chosen, but Steve Harrington gets a new birthday that night.

“Yeah, you look like more of a summer baby anyway,” Eddie says and Steve wishes he wouldn’t, it’s so hard not to love him when he does.

Steve gets to tag along on Wayne’s birthday fishing trip, or rather, he was invited, as Eddie keeps correcting.

It’s nice, it’s May, it’s quiet by the river and it gets just cool enough at night to build a campfire. Eddie pulls out his guitar, a pretty acoustic one, and he playfully strums out the chords to happy birthday for Wayne. Steve watches across the fire, he feels warm down to his bones, melting away all those cold lonely Decembers frozen inside them.

Wayne spends his birthday teaching Steve to fish. He catches the biggest one, and he hopes the Polaroid that Eddie snaps doesn’t pick up the tears in his eyes.

Eddie sidles up next to him, pretending not to notice Steve wiping his eyes. He rubs his back, whispers congratulations, “Look at you, summer baby.”

He feels the sun rising in his cheeks, bright and burning. It’s impossible not to love Eddie, not when this is the best birthday Steve’s ever had and it’s not even his own.

Steve forgets all about the new date he chose to come into the world, and as the weeks pass in a warm haze, he stops trying not to love Eddie.

It’s too late to catch himself. He’s already falling as they lie on the trailer roof, talking about everything and nothing while sunset colors melt over them, as he rides along while Eddie deals and calls Steve his summer baby in the passenger seat.

Steve’s so in love with Eddie that it burns, makes him golden inside, even the places in him that have never known anything bright.

He doesn’t want to lose that, so he tells himself he can settle for just this.

And it’s true for a while, until that date comes along, the one he forgot about, but Eddie didn’t.

Robin has a spare key to his house, she helped Eddie plan all this, that’s the only explanation for what Steve sees in his backyard when he gets off work on a Friday in July.

All the kids are there, Dustin Henderson is in the pool that Steve hasn’t used since ‘83, with El Hopper on his shoulders, Mike Wheeler is doing the same holding up Will Byers, Lucas Sinclair and Max Mayfield are wrestling inside a bounce house, Nancy Wheeler is manning the grill Steve’s dad bought for show, Robin Buckley is grinning ear to ear with a bright glass of lemonade, and Eddie Munson’s at the center of it all.

Everyone that Steve loves is there yelling, “Surprise! Happy birthday!”

He can’t describe the feeling that bursts through him.

The July sun isn't in the sky anymore, it’s rising inside Steve’s chest. It’s too big and too bright. This body of his that grew up alone in the dead of winter wasn’t made to feel such warmth, bringing hot tears to his eyes.

He’s hurrying back inside the house before he knows it. He feels bad, rushing out like that, away from his party, but he just needs a second. He has to lean against the kitchen counter, run his hands over his face and through his hair, trying to stop all these feelings from melting out of him.

He hears someone come in behind him, assumes it’s Robin, but he feels a hand on his back, hears a low, reassuring voice next to him that belongs to Eddie.

“Sorry, fuck, I’m sorry, Steve. I should’ve asked if you were okay with this. I shouldn’t have sprung it on you like that.”

Steve blinks hard, brushing away the tears, “No it’s— It's fine, Eds, really.”

Eddie doesn’t look convinced, brown eyes deep with concern, he holds Steve’s elbows, “Okay well, Robin said you weren’t really a fan of your pool but that’s okay, if that’s what you’re worried about. No one expects you to get in, Stevie.”

He’s perfect. He’s everything Steve wants and needs. The light that’s been missing inside him, Eddie struck a match to it. Steve never knew his heart was so flammable and he doesn’t know how Eddie can’t see that he’s burning for him.

“No, thats— that’s not it, Eddie.”

“Is it the kiddy theme? Listen, I had trouble picking it, so I just thought maybe since it was mostly gonna be kids here and you never had a kids' birthday party then, y’know, summer, pool, bounce house, games— okay it sounds dumb now, I’ll just get everyone to leave—”

Steve reaches out when Eddie starts to pull back, hands catching his shoulders and the ends of his hair, “No, no, please don’t. This is— it’s perfect, Eddie. I can’t believe you did this for me.”

“Then why do you look so sad?”

“Because I—” Steve can’t hold it in anymore, it’s too hot, summer beneath his skin, he has to let it out, “Because I want to kiss you so bad right now and I can’t.”

He expects Eddie to pull back, or worse, let him down gently, like the quick press of fingertips to the flame of a candle, snuff the feeling out just like that.

Instead, Steve’s breath catches when Eddie’s hands cup his face, thumbs brushing away the stray tears Steve missed.

“Who says you can’t?” Eddie asks and part of Steve wishes he wouldn’t, because it’s so easy to love Eddie with every piece of him when he does, and Steve’s going to fall apart trying to stop.

“I shouldn’t have said that, sorry. I just don’t want to lose you as a friend, you don’t have to feel the same, but that’s what it is,” Steve lets it out, let’s it catch fire between them and just hopes it doesn’t turn them to ashes, “I want to kiss you for doing this for me, for being you. I want to kiss you all the fucking time and especially right now, Eddie, but I can’t.”

He waits for it, to be left out in the cold, for frost to cover his bones again, but Eddie’s hands stay warm on his face.

A smile lights on Eddie’s lips, the kind that Steve can feel radiating between them. He doesn’t know why Eddie’s smiling when he should be leaving, but Steve wants to keep that feeling forever.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you, Stevie? You can do whatever you want when it’s your birthday.”

Eddie’s eyes fall to Steve’s lips and back up again, setting off a surprised flare in his chest.

“Whatever I want?” Steve repeats in disbelief, searching Eddie’s eyes.

“Whatever you want.”

“You want that too?”

“I want you, too,” Eddie grins like it’s the easiest thing in the world to want Steve, then leans in.

Their mouths connect and it’s like something fiercely cosmic, a solar flare at the touch of their lips.

Eddie’s been sipping lemonade, Steve can taste it on his tongue. Citrusy and warm, Eddie tastes like pure fucking sunshine, all golden in Steve’s mouth.

Kissing Eddie feels like he’s at the center of the universe. He makes Steve feel like the sun, like the brightest thing in the goddamn sky is Steve Harrington.

No pretty light could compare.

Steve chases the heat of Eddie’s mouth, letting it light a fire inside him. His hands have a mind of their own, making Eddie’s messy hair even messier, then falling to his waist to pull him close and hold him while he just kisses and kisses and kisses Eddie.

They have to break for air, foreheads resting together, Steve misses Eddie’s lips already.

Their panting breaths fuse, gazes locked for a few delirious moments, half-lidded and close.

Eddie breaks the silence, laughing breathlessly, giving Steve’s lips one final peck before pulling back, brushing Steve’s hair out of his eyes for him.

“You good?”

Steve laughs then too, a rush of breath, relieved and light, “Never been better.”

Eddie smiles, taking Steve’s hands in the warmth of his, “C’mon then, summer baby. Don’t wanna miss your birthday party.”

They go back outside and Eddie stays close by Steve with a pretty flush high on his cheeks. Steve’s face feels sun-kissed too, and judging by the look he gets from Robin, it shows.

It should be stupid, having a birthday party with a bounce house and a bunch of screaming kids. Maybe it is a little, but it’s still the best birthday Steve’s ever had, and it’s actually his own this time.

He spends the better part of it trying not to cry, especially when he opens the few presents they got him. He’s not used to everything being about him, but Eddie’s arm stays around him, giving him encouraging squeezes, bursts of warmth that keep him going.

Steve’s not forgotten in the shadow of something bigger, wrapped up in one so it’s easier to forget he exists. No, it’s like nothing’s more important than him that day. He doesn’t need it, and it’s hard to let himself have it, but it’s nice to get a day that’s his.

When Christmas comes later that year, Robin still gets Steve a birthday present, there’s no arguing with her. Then Eddie tries to pull the same thing, and Steve’s not having it.

They’re both in their flannels on the couch, Eddie throwing his legs over Steve’s lap and trying to push the extra gift into Steve’s hands.

“C’mon, Stevie, I swear it’s not a birthday present. It's just because.”

“Uh huh, sure. Just because what?”

Eddie shrugs, rests his arm around Steve’s shoulders and presses the words against his cheek, “Just ’cause I love you,” he says like it’s the easiest thing in the world to love Steve.

Steve thinks he knows what to call that feeling now. The one that makes December easier because he’s got his own summer sun pumping warmth through his veins now.

It's love.

Eddie loves him.

Not just on his birthday, or on Christmas, or only on occasion, but everyday. Eddie loves him everyday.

ao3 link

#when you love someone so much you just gotta give them an extra birthday #not a christmas fic i swear #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie fic #steve x eddie #stranger things #eddie x steve #my fics #rueswriting #steddie ficlet #steveddie #fluff #mp #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington headcanons

[dirtyvulture]

Dear Diary

*Set in the Darkest Knight AU*

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Mutant!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk

Word count: 4459

Summary: Natasha embraces her new life as an X-Men.

AN: I'm back with a little one shot. :) Enjoy!

December 6, 2023

Dear Diary,

Is that an appropriate way to start one of these? I’ve never kept a diary or a journal before. But Marie gave me this cute little notebook and said writing stuff down helps clear her mind, so I don’t think there’s any harm in giving it a shot. They would never let us have something like this in the Red Room. Too much evidence lying around for someone to stumble upon. Should I put a lock on this? Y/N wouldn’t snoop around to read this, would she? Well, I guess if she is–leave my diary alone, you big dummy!

The professor said the Red Room soldiers and Widows are coming tomorrow. This is all my fault. I’ve put these good people and innocent children in danger. Earlier, we went to help the kids pack their bags and board the buses. I’m not sure if Y/N has any kids of her own (or ever did at all), but I can tell she really cares about them. Although she was not happy with some of the excessive luggage some of them were bringing. No one would tell me where they’re sending the kids, but I overheard Ororo mention something about a private resort they had to buy out.

I still don’t quite understand why these people are willing to sacrifice so much for me. I’m basically a stranger to them. I have nothing to give them in return if they ask. Maybe they’ll finally throw me out when they realize how worthless I am. That’s what I really deserve. Not these warm clothes, the home-cooked meals, and this roof over my head. And I definitely don’t deserve the kindness and care Y/N has shown me. I really like her, but I’m afraid she’ll leave me when she realizes how boring and inexperienced I am. 

Oh, I think she’s coming out of the shower now. I’ll continue this later.

Love,

Nat

***********************************************************************

December 15, 2023

Dear Diary,

It’s weird how life goes back to normal so fast here. The Red Room soldiers and Widows were here not even a week ago, tearing down doors and blasting out windows, and everything is already repaired and the students are back at it like nothing happened.

A lot of them are excited to go back to their homes and families for the holiday. But a lot of them will also be staying at the mansion, because their families won’t accept them or they just don’t have any home to go back to. The professor asked Y/N to help plan some holiday games so the kids staying don’t get too bored or lonely. She’s acting like it’s the dumbest assignment he’s ever given her, but I’ve seen her spending all her free time ordering presents and decorations (with the professor’s credit card, of course), so I know she takes it very seriously and the kids are going to love whatever she comes up with.

I’m really glad I get to spend Christmas here. It’s been a long time since I’ve actually been able to celebrate it with people I love. I feel so welcomed here and no one looks at me like I’m any different, when I come from a past where there’s red all over my ledger. Sometimes I’m surprised anyone even lets me be around these kids alone, but some of them have powers that even make Y/N nervous, and I think they know they can trust me.

It’ll take some more time before I can be fully comfortable here, but it’s really starting to grow on me and I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

Love,

Nat

***********************************************************************

December 25, 2023

Natasha wakes up alone. She looks around the bedroom, in case you might be on the floor doing push-ups or in the bathroom showering, but the room is completely empty. Her heartbeat picks up as she jumps out of bed, afraid that you’ve left her, when she notices a note on the desk.

Downstairs making breakfast. Come join when you’re up - Y/N

She relaxes immediately, touched how you made sure to let her know in advance where you would be. She quickly washes up and puts on a robe, then hurries downstairs to a chaotic mess of torn gift wrapping, screaming children, and flashing new toys. She steps into the kitchen, where you are wearing a flowered apron and are threatening Marie with a spatula.

“Stop, those aren’t ready–Marie!” You swat at her hands as she swipes for a pancake.

“Merry Christmas, Miss Nat!” Marie says, moving your attention away from her as your girlfriend appears.

“Merry Christmas, Marie.” Natasha gives the girl a hug, not missing the folded pancake in her hand. 

“Merry Christmas, darling,” you say next, waiting for her to come over. “I made a special plate for you. It’s over here so the kids don’t get into it.” You point to a foil-covered plate off to the side of the stove. Natasha goes to investigate, peeling back the foil to find the plate fully-loaded with two different types of pancakes, one next to a little container of jam and honey, and the other still steaming and garnished with flecks of green onion. There’s even a bowl of grainy buckwheat porridge. Her heart soars at the sight of her favorite native breakfast. With a delighted squeal, she throws herself into your arms.

“Thankyou thankyou thankyou,” she choruses, squeezing you tightly as you rub her back.

“You’re welcome, darling.” 

At this point, you shoo everyone out of the kitchen to finish the preparations. Natasha joins Marie in the dining hall, helping set up the plates and silverware. She watches with great curiosity as Kitty tries getting Peter to step under the mistletoe she hung above the doorway, and then is distracted when Jean and Scott come down for breakfast.

“Y/N cooks Christmas breakfast for us every year,” Jean explains to Natasha. “The kids always look forward to it.”

“Hey, Y/N!” Scott yells into the kitchen. “Keep the walnuts away from my food, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Natasha hears you dismissively respond.

“Scott’s allergic,” Jean whispers to her. “Now there’s no proof how, but he ended up with a plateful of them last year and I almost had to take him to the hospital. Needless to say, it was an eventful Christmas.”

Natasha giggles to herself, already having a feeling she knows exactly how those walnuts got on Scott’s plate.

Everyone finds a seat at the table, the empty one next to Natasha reserved for you. You finally emerge from the kitchen, no longer in the flowered apron but one of your classic checkerboard flannels. You’re carrying an impressive tower of pancakes in one hand and a pan filled half and half with bacon and sausage in the other. The students break out in appreciation and applause as Bobby scoots aside some dishes to make room for the last trays.

“Don’t take more than you can finish,” you remind the kids, going around the table to sit next to Natasha and presenting her with her special plate. “And uh, Merry Christmas, happy holidays, and all that other stuff.” You raise your apple cider in a toast and everyone follows your lead.

“Thanks for breakfast, Y/N,” Ororo says, clinking her glass to yours. The students erupt with more thanks before they start reaching for the food, passing around the mountainous plate of pancakes, scooping whole fried eggs onto each other’s plates.

“Thanks again, babe,” Natasha says, putting her hand on your thigh as she leans over to kiss you on the cheek.

“You should try it first before thanking me,” you tease, still not used to all the praise. You were just trying to be a good partner, and it was somewhat of a Christmas tradition for you to cook breakfast for all the students who stayed at the mansion over break. You didn’t mind it at all, in fact you really did enjoy spending time in the kitchen and it made you feel good to take care of others.

Natasha leaves her hand on your knee as she eats, and eventually you put your hand on top of hers comfortingly. Neither of you engage much in conversation as you eat and listen, happy with the company. Once all of the food has been finished, Ororo rounds up the students to help clean everything before they can continue opening presents. 

Kitty gets you a Johnny Cash vinyl record. Marie and Bobby got you a variety pack of exotic flavors of jerky, including alligator, ostrich, and buffalo. Storm gives you and Natasha tickets to a weekend getaway at a Canadian resort. Jean and Scott also throw in a joint gift of a new set of winter bedsheets. You are very thankful for the presents and pile them neatly by your feet, when Natasha pulls out a box and puts it on your lap. Inside is a familiar-looking flannel shirt.

“It’s a brand new one,” Natasha says. “To replace all the ones I steal from your closet,” Natasha says.

“Thanks,” you say, putting your arm around her to pull her closer so you can kiss her cheek. “This one is from me.” You hand her a very small box.

Natasha opens it delicately and gasps when she sees what you’ve given her. It’s a wooden ring, carved a little roughly around the edges  with little turquoise-colored gems pressed into the outside.

“Did you make this?” Natasha asks, running her finger over the gems.

“Uh, yeah.” You’re suddenly nervous that she doesn’t like it. Woodworking was not your finest hobby, despite your decades to fine-tune the skill, but you preferred to build vast structures and furniture. Tiny little pieces of jewelry were extremely difficult to handle, but hopefully it was worth the numerous cuts and splinters you gave yourself. 

Natasha slips it on her right ring finger–a perfect fit. Maybe you needed to give yourself more credit for your handiwork.

“It’s beautiful,” she says, holding her hand up to admire the ring. “I love it. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.” 

Natasha snuggles closer to you and rests her head on your shoulder while you sit back and watch everyone else finish opening their gifts.

***********************************************************************

The rest of the day is busy but productive. Natasha has never felt happier watching the students competitively decorate gingerbread houses, then go outside and play in the snow. You don’t join in anymore, preferring to watch from the side. You’re already wearing the flannel Natasha got for you and Natasha gazes at you adoringly from afar. Despite the differences the two of you had from time to time, she hasn’t loved another person the way she loves you. But sometimes she worries that you don’t feel the same way. 

You still don’t talk very much, hardly opening up about your past the way Natasha has spilled about hers. Although you seem mostly content at the mansion, Natasha can tell you’re still adjusting to being around so many people. The life of solitude in the cabin in the woods had clearly been more your style, and she feels guilty for dragging you away from that. But as much as she would love to spend all day with you cozied up in a cabin you built with your own hands, it wasn’t a realistic option. Not with all the threats and dangers that could come her way.

Which is why it was so important to Natasha that the Red Room be dealt with, as soon as possible.

She didn’t like how dismissive you got every time she brought it up, but she understood why. You had found your domestic bliss and didn’t want to let it go anytime soon. She wasn’t going to blame you. But she wished you would actually listen to her instead of shutting her down all the time. She would figure out how to broach the topic with you eventually, but today was not that day.

After a quiet dinner, which is basically just warmed up leftovers from breakfast, Natasha finds you sitting by yourself on the couch in front of a dying fire. Most of the students had retired to their rooms, exhausted by the day’s festivities. Natasha sits next to you, leaning her shoulder against yours.

“Hey,” she whispers.

“Hi.” You offer her your hand and she clasps onto it, threading her fingers with yours. You smile when you see the wooden ring on her finger. It looks perfect on her. “Did you have fun today?” you ask. 

“It was the best Christmas I ever had,” she replies. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Of course.”

Natasha is tired, but there’s still one more thing she wants to do with you. She rests her hand on your thigh, subtly at first, then she slowly starts to stroke your leg, her fingers barely perceptible through your jeans. You ignore her and her movements become bolder, creeping towards the inside of your thigh now and squeezing it lightly.

“Can I help you with something?” you finally ask. Natasha has always been a little more shy when it comes to asking for intimacy with you. But you were patient with her and never pressured her, and that encouraged her to have the confidence to ask if you were in the mood–even if she didn’t always do it with words. 

“Do you want to go upstairs?” she says, leaning forward until her lips almost touch yours. “I still have one more present to give you.”

“Oh, do you now?” you ask, trying to kiss her but she pulls away.

“You have to come upstairs,” she repeats, offering you her hand as she stands up.

“All right, all right.” Your knees creak as you push off the couch, taking Natasha’s hand and following her upstairs. You can hear her heartbeat pounding with excitement or maybe that’s…yours? You hope everyone else has gone to sleep by now, otherwise they wouldn’t be falling asleep anytime soon.

Back in the privacy of the bedroom, you let Natasha lead you to the bed and you sit down on the edge with her climbing onto your lap. 

“Is this okay?” she asks, her hands locking around the back of your neck.

“Of course,” you whisper, leaning in until your foreheads touch. Your arms circle her waist to hold her securely in place. Her breath fans over your face and her heartbeat pumps at an almost alarmingly quick rate. 

“I want you,” she says, rocking her hips against your thighs. “I want you to take me.”

“How do you want me?” you ask, before she presses her lips roughly to yours, her fingers digging into your neck. Her arousal spikes and so does yours. You open your mouth when she licks your lips to deepen the kiss. She tastes like vanilla and cookies and you instinctively pull her closer to you, wanting to devour her until the morning.

Natasha grabs the collar of your flannel, pulling apart the top buttons and running her hands down your chest and abs. Your skin burns where she touches you and you nip lightly on her bottom lip when she rests her hands on the buckle of your belt.

“I want to taste you,” you pant, hoping your request doesn’t come across as too greedy. Natasha has to fight down her thrill of excitement at your suggestion, wondering how you knew exactly what she wanted. She doesn’t even take the time to agree with you, instead hurriedly stripping off her clothes to show you how eager she is. You take off the flannel, setting it aside with reverence, then removing your undershirt and jeans. Natasha tackles you back on the bed, your thigh fitting between her legs and you feel the heat from her center rubbing against you.

“You’re so wet for me,” you say, holding her hips again and guiding her up until she’s hovering over your chest. “My good girl.”

“Your good girl,” Natasha reiterates, grabbing onto the headboard for support before she positions herself over your face. The scent of her arousal is almost overwhelming to you, and you waste no time bringing your arms over her thighs to pull her down. Natasha whines when your mouth makes contact with her slick center, your tongue slipping into her and coating with her juices. 

Natasha moans, grinding down so you can enter her deeper. Your arms tighten to prevent her from moving too much; you want to do things at your own pace. Her taste is so intoxicating and addictive, you could lie here forever eating her out. Natasha grips the headboard tighter, struggling to rock against your face for more friction, but you won’t let her. She whines in desperation, the noises music to your ears. Your tongue dips into her again before tracing up to her clit, flicking against it and Natasha grinds down harder on your chin, gasping and moaning. 

“Y/N,” she begs. “Y/N, please.”

You stop, pulling away from her far enough to say, “What do you want, baby?”

“I want you,” she repeats, her voice breaking. “I need you.”

“I know, baby. I got you.” As much as you love teasing her, this is not the time. You knew Natasha could sometimes be insecure about your relationship with her. But you had no regrets in choosing to be with her and loved her so much. You would never miss an opportunity to show her, either.

You loosen your arms around her so she has some freedom to move and Natasha quickly adjusts herself until she’s comfortable. When she settles back down on your face again, you find her clit and wrap your lips around it, rewarded with a long, drawn-out moan. Natasha rolls her hips to help you find a good rhythm. You feel her thighs tremble and more of her slick spills onto your tongue. 

“Oh, god. Oh fuck, Y/N,” she whimpers, the headboard flexing dangerously from how hard she’s holding onto it. 

Your stomach practically burns from how aroused you are with Natasha riding your face, and you’re hoping she’ll help you relieve some of the tension once you make her finish. You’ve held out as long as you could, and you can tell Natasha is ready to fall over the edge. Your tongue rests on her clit again, swiping upwards in a straight line, then dragging down at a diagonal angle, then going back up.

N.

Your tongue moves in an inverted V next, drawing an imaginary bar between them.

A.

You lick down her clit once more, then swipe perpendicular.

T.

Natasha is panting and shaking, completely unaware that you’re trying to spell her name on her with your tongue. One of her hands has left the headboard and is holding tightly onto your hair in an attempt to guide you, but your own plan is already in action.

She doesn’t make it the next A, her back arching and thighs clamping around your head as she finally cums. You don’t let a drop of it go to waste, lapping at her sensitive folds until she’s whimpering and trying to pull your head away. Natasha lifts herself off your face with a contented sigh, turning herself away from the headboard now, but you’re not quite done with her yet.

You pull her back down on your face and she falls forward with her hands on your chest. 

“Did I say you could go anywhere?” you grumble playfully. 

“Y/N,” Natasha giggles. 

“Can I have one more, darling?” you ask, and she responds by sitting back on your face. But now Natasha is the one with other ideas, as she eyes the veins on your flexing abdomen that disappear behind the band of your underwear. You feel her hands run across your stomach and your breath hitches when she tugs down your underwear.

“Nat, what are you–oh, shit.” Now it’s your turn to gasp and moan when Natasha leans over and places her mouth on your dripping center. You completely lose focus of what you were doing, instinctively spreading your legs open further to give her better access. “Fuck baby, oh fuck,” you whine, your head dropping back on the pillow.

“Did I say you could stop?” Natasha teases, turning your own words back against you. It takes a monumental effort, but you calm yourself enough to put your mouth to work again. Natasha almost soaks herself when she realizes how turned on you’ve gotten just from eating her out. Now she has only one mission in mind: make you cum before she does a second time. But you’re refusing to make it easy for her, and Natasha is already dangerously close despite having finished mere minutes ago. She knows she has to hurry, but judging from the tremble in your thighs, you’re closer than you’re letting on.

Natasha’s tongue circles your clit and she can feel you panting against her, your own efforts faltering in their rhythm. She pushes back against your face to remind you of what you promised her. Your fingers dig into the curve of her ass and you feel her breasts rubbing against your abs. Her mouth is so hot and wet and perfect on you, making you lose your breath every time her tongue touches you.

“Fuck, Nat,” you whimper, feeling like you’re losing control of yourself. You’re not even sure if what you’re doing to her anymore is working because all you can think about is the throbbing in your lower stomach that begs to be released. Your back arches off the bed when her tongue lashes at your clit and she struggles and fails to push down on your thighs to keep you grounded. “Nat, I can’t,” you warn, a little embarrassed at how fast you’re ready to release. 

“It’s okay,” you hear Natasha say, “Cum for me, baby.” 

White floods your vision and all the muscles in your body tighten as you spill into her mouth, a moan catching in your throat. Your head spins in a rush of endorphins and you’re practically convulsing underneath Natasha when you finally come down from your high. She purrs in delight at her success, gently squeezing at your thighs. And as much as you want to flip her around and press her head against your chest, you still do owe her.

Natasha’s second orgasm is a little more subdued but just as pleasurable. She bites the inside of your thigh to quiet the noise of her moan and you almost cum again. But once she finds the strength to move, Natasha crawls back up to you, nuzzling the side of your head and kissing you. Normally, you could go several rounds without even stopping for a break, but you’re unusually exhausted today. Maybe it was from waking up at four o’clock to work on breakfast for everyone or making sure that the Christmas activities throughout the day ran smoothly. 

Natasha rests her head on your chest, listening to your steady heartbeat and you rub her shoulder, tilting your head down to breathe in the faded scent of her shampoo. 

“Merry Christmas, Y/N,” she whispers.

“Merry Christmas, darling.”

***********************************************************************

January 2, 2024

Dear Diary,

Professor Xavier called me personally to his office today. I was really nervous that I was in trouble for something. I’m still not sure how I feel about his mind-reading thing. I try to keep my thoughts in check when he’s around, but I think that makes it seem like I’m hiding something. But other than that, he’s only ever been polite and respectful to me, and I can tell Y/N really looks up to him as a mentor and father figure.

He told me he has a lead on where the Red Room could be and asked if I still want to pursue them. Of course I do, but I know Y/N isn’t happy about it. I thought she would understand more. I know she’s got her own past that she hasn’t told me the entirety of yet (not that she’s required to), but she’s told a few stories so I know her situation is similar enough to mine. I wish she was more supportive instead of trying to talk me out of it, but I know she’s worried too. She doesn’t want me rushing back into danger and I totally get that. But I just…I can’t stay here and be cared for and protected and loved when there are so many of my sisters still being held against their will and forced into doing horrible things.

Luckily, the professor seems more understanding of things. But I don’t want him or anyone else here risking their lives for me. If I have to go alone, I will. I don’t know if I can do it alone, though. I’m sure Y/N will insist on tagging along no matter what. I just hope she doesn’t get too grumpy about the whole thing.

Love,

Nat

***********************************************************************

January 4, 2024

Dear Diary,

I still haven’t told Y/N what the professor told me 2 days ago (assuming she hasn’t already gone through my diary and read about it here). I tried to mention it after dinner, but I could tell as soon as I let the “R” word slip she was not paying attention to the conversation anymore. I don’t want my frustration to build up, so I’ll probably have to be straightforward about it, which isn’t easy.

I know the professor can hear all of my thoughts, so I wonder if he’s going to get tired of them and just talk to Y/N himself. But probably not. This is my problem to handle. I’ll find the courage somehow to deal with it. 

I just hope it doesn’t cause Y/N to look down on me for this. I’m already nervous that I’m constantly annoying her, and if she gets fed up enough and kicks me out I will literally have nowhere to go and at that point, I’d welcome back the Red Room with open arms. That probably seems a little dramatic, but I really don’t want to risk losing the best person that ever came into my life. I have Y/N to thank for everything I have here, and I think most people in my position would call me crazy for trying to make any changes to my situation. 

But I’m not like most people. And I have to do what I think is right, even if others try to stop me. 

I’ll bring it up to Y/N later again. Maybe if I catch her in a good mood she’ll be more receptive to the idea. Wishing luck to my future self.

Love,

Nat

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

AN: Please leave likes, comments, and reblog! Follow for more content. 🥰

Multipart sequel in the works!

#natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x female reader

[writinginthetwilight]

It started on the stairs - Part 3.

Eddie Munson x Awkward! Neighbour! Reader

Chapter warnings: strong language, shit parents, idiots in love, pining, fem reader, awkwardness, fluff, slight angst.

Author note: Thank you so much for love on the last chapter it means the world, this is the last part and I really wanted to get it out on Christmas but it wasn't meant to be. I hope you all had a lovely day celebrating if you do and a lovely day in general if you don't. Enjoy.

Part 1 Part 2 Masterlist

As December crawls in your anxiety around Eddie has dimmed to a low murmur, used to the flirty quips by now or the way he would pull your feet into his lap as you watched TV. It still makes your body heat and butterflies erupt inside you but it was just Eddie. Touchy feely and flirty Eddie.

You had been so sure that something was going to happen at least a dozen times, but it never did, like when he came back after Thanksgiving.

Spotting you on the street outside your building he'd dropped his duffle bag and crushed you in a hug so tight that it made you let out a squeak into his chest as he laughed into your hair. It had turned silent as neither of you seemingly wanted to let go only for him to break it first apologising and hiding behind his hair before quickly saying he needed to get unpacked. Leaving you wide eyed and breathless.

So you shoved down the longing, kept it tidied away in the centre of your chest for when you were alone and watching romcoms or twisted in your sheets at night.

As Christmas hurtled towards you, you'd felt an odd sense of relief as you made plans to head home. Something to get excited about, people who you hadn't seen in almost a year, something familiar. That's not to say most of the lead up was spent without the metal head.

Eddie's feelings towards Christmas were made readily apparent as December wore on. He didn't hate the holidays he had stressed, just the whole ‘bullshit fake happy commercial aspect of it’.

Spiralling off into a rant as you looked down at him from the top of a ladder while he passed you gaudy foil streamers for you to hang, you nodded along pausing once you were finished to take in the tinsel and glittery lights that adorned every corner. Holding back laughter as he looked at you fumbling his words, he didn't begrudge anyone else's joy, he just wouldn't be participating.

But days later as you stared out over the city, kaleidoscopic lights glittering in windows and over rooftops, silent tears ran down your face and you weren't sure you would be participating in that joy either.

You weren't going home.

Your mom had called just a half hour earlier, excitedly explaining they were going to Hawaii, and told you to book a flight, like you didn't work for minimum wage barely managing to scrape by. You'd spluttered and explained that you couldn't, you had already spent a relatively small fortune on presents and only had enough left to make the drive home. Besides Christmas was in two weeks, indignation rising you'd asked when they were going to tell you.

All syrupy sweet faux sincerity she reminded you it was you who had chosen to move so far away. You could hear your dad arguing in the background asking to speak to you as your mother hissed about how they weren't buying your ticket. You didn't want to hear it. Told them it was fine you'd had so many offers anyway, that it would save you the gas bill. To have a great time.

And thats how Eddie found you, knocking on your door joint and snacks ready bouncing on the balls of his feet. Feeling the air leave him as you open the door.

“There she is.” he breathes as you silently throw out an arm to let him in. Your room smells of candles and clean washing, it makes him heady, he doesn't notice the lack of decorations lining the walls or the missing shades your string lights would be casting around the room.

“So I got jerky.” He says walking into your small narrow kitchen and unloading snacks “Before you say it, I'll sit on the floor when I eat it so you don't have to gag and make a scene” he turns and you give him a smile that doesn't reach your eyes and a bite of panic immediately spreads through him.

“Hey you okay?” you dip your head but he can see the puffiness around your eyes and you scrunch your nose turning away from him.

“ I'm fine”, he notices then your naked Christmas tree in the corner and the string lights that have been unplugged and he rounds you quickly, you won't look at him.

“y/n?” he leans into you trying to catch your eye and you curl in slightly. You hadn't moved away from him like that in months before he had learnt that he was clearly a little much for you. He takes a step back, eyes darting over you.

Your shoulders sag and his heart aches when you finally look up at him, sighing heavily as you walk your way over to the couch, curling your knees up by your chin.

“I'm not going home for Christmas, it’s stupid. Barely anyone's there anymore but I don't know.”

He sits down gingerly next to you, arm over the back of the sofa head laying heavy on it, watching your profile as you sit glassy eyed. He wants to pull you into him, reach out and run his hand over your cheek. But he doesn't, instead he concentrates on the way his knee is pressing into the meat of your thigh close enough without scaring you.

“Not stupid, you could still head back?”

You pick at the hole in your sweats and shrug, “I told them I had plans, made a big deal of it”

“Do you?”

You give him a deadpan stare and he can't help the way it makes his lip quirk up, you lean over and take the joint sticking out from behind his ear, lighting it and letting out a plume of smoke as you let your head slump back

“It will be fine, I'll drink wine and watch TV” You look over to him and he gives you a grimace. The throw pillow hits him square in the face, and he collapses back dramatically in an attempt to see you smile. When he peeks back up you're still just staring up.

Just say it, just say it come on Munson just fucking say it.

“Well, I mean, I'll be here” he sways forward and your head tips lazily towards him.

“I thought you were heading back?”

He adjusts sitting a little closer to you, plucking the joint from your fingers and taking a hit, smoke sneaking out the edges of his mouth as he talks “Get a bonus if I work at the shop Christmas Eve and the day after, can't really pass it up.” it's not a lie, he just hadn't wanted to see that sad face you'd pull if he told you he was spending it alone.

“Whatya say? Won't be a three course meal or anything, but fancy slumming it with me?”

The grin you give him makes all the air leave his lungs and fuck hell never go back to Hawkins again if it will keep you looking at him like that.

You spend the night talking over plans, food, drink, films and old traditions you could try. Reminiscing on the rose-tinted memories that only childhood can provide. Calling it a night when those stories of nostalgia fade into heavier ones that have stuck to your adult bones.

The following two weeks go past in a blur, long shifts tending to increasingly stressed out customers and nights spent pouring over Eddie's present sitting on your living room floor surrounded by craft materials.

Your schedules had fallen out of sync, as you picked up extra shifts and he worked late into the evening. The one night he'd come over to hang out you'd turned to find him crashed out on the couch before you could even ask if he wanted to order food. Waking him as gently as you could, that tidy place in your chest yawned open as he lazily blinked at you with a sleepy smile on his face and you reluctantly cut the night short.

You missed him.

So as your Christmas Eve shift ends you practically sprint home, spending the evening elbow deep in pie mix and sugar cookie dough, putting the finishing touches to his present before finally crawling into bed. Flour in your hair and sugar cookie dough stuck under your nails as you drift unconscious, bone tired.

It meant you woke on Christmas day a little later than you planned, flustered you spent an inordinate amount of time getting ready. Wriggling in and then out of pantyhose and tops that show a lot more cleavage than your usual movie night attire, until every surface in your room is covered in rejected items. You finally relent, pulling out the soft cream jumper adorned with snowflakes you had been living in for the past few weeks, leggings and a cheap felt santa hat that barely squeezes over your head.

At his door, balancing a pie and a tray of cookies in your hands, with bags that clink hanging around your wrists you're relieved at your choice as he opens the door. Dressed in red plaid pyjama bottoms and a blue cable knit sweater he looks like he could be on a Christmas card besides the halo of dark hair, and you both laugh at the sight of each other. He flicks the bell on the end of your hat before grabbing the bags from you and leading you inside.

You stop within a few steps, awe struck by the sight of multicoloured lights and plastic foliage lining the walls, you walk without a word towards them, a mixture of nails, hooks and scotch tape holding them up and your eyes prickle at the sight of the small tree sparsely decorated with mismatched baubles on the kitchen counter.

“What's this?” You say spinning to face him, he just shrugs from his place in the kitchenette, rocking from foot to foot. “You took yours down.”

You stride up to him wrapping your arms around his neck, and you feel his arms squeeze around you. “It's not much, my friend Robin dropped in and helped.”

“ Thank you.”

There's that pause again, and your the one to break it this time, rubbing at your eyes and peeling off the saran wrap off a plate of cookies, “As requested vanilla and the tiny silver balls that hurt your teeth”

You spend the day eating dessert, and the best mac and cheese you've had in your life, drinking homemade Irish cream with too much whiskey all in front of the TV. It’s cosy, slowly drifting closer together to the centre of the couch with every bathroom break or refill, eventually, he sits and drops a present in your lap. Shiny gold paper and so much tape you struggle to open it, Eddie eventually getting impatient and going to retrieve a pair of scissors in the end.

“No!?” You say as you finally see the cover, it's leather bound with indentations of characters and trees ‘Grimms fairy tales’, you laugh, grinning like a fool remembering your rant about their stories relevance to modern horror, on that first Halloween night you'd spent together.

“I love it. Thank you,” You lean over to hug him, the couch dipping as gravity presses you into him. He smells of that spiced aftershave and coconut shampoo, it makes your tipsy brain dizzy.

“Okay my turn” you say shake evident in your voice as you hand over the neatly wrapped present, he takes his time unwrapping and as it appears you can see the confusion on his face until he finally sees the hellfire logo, looking at you quickly before hastily ripping the rest of the wrapping away.

You had painted it with silvers and blacks to look like a wrought iron gate with the helfire logo at the centre and almost lost your mind papermarcheing it to make the details raised, the fact that you ever had the patience for this as a child is mind-boggling.

He looks up as you sit chewing your thumb.

“Is this?” He unlatched the buckle which closes it, opening the DM screen fully, pockets clips and appearing.

“Do you like it?”

“Do I like it? Did you make this?”

“Yeah, I mean it's just, paper mache” you laugh “There's that place you like with the paint for your models and I went to look and thought maybe I could buy something but nothing seemed” You shook your head, swallowing the lump in your throat at the way you were about to gush about him.

“This is fucking awesome”

“Yeah?” You grin, popping a flap so a felt box unfolds. “I thought you could roll here", you can feel him watching you as you explain each pouch and flap, his eyes never leaving your face.

“I feel bad about the book now, shit” he's so close you can feel the breath on your face.

“Shut up.” your hand runs down the embossed cover. “It's perfect.”

When you look at him he looks like he's about to say something but instead reaches for the pile of movies holding up Scrooged “Fancy a bit of Bill Murrey?”

The day dwindles into the night, food and drink runs dry and you can feel your eyes getting heavy as 1 am approaches.

When you say you need to leave it's a slow-moving departure, the silence loud as you collect your things.

“Thank you for today.”

He waves you off, “I just threw up some plastic and made” he glances up and suddenly looks flustered “Pasta, you did most of the work” his words are quick and he's moving you through the door before you can see what it is.

“Oh okay, I'll see you Tuesday?”He nods and you lean in for a hug when something hits you in the face. You jump apart squealing and brushing yourself down scared whatever it was is still on you.

Eddie's eyes are cartoonishly wide as he stares at the offending item which now lies limply on the floor, you lean down to see a small sprig of plastic mistletoe lying there and pick it up, when you look at him he's still staring at it in your hand, face rapidly turning pink before looking at you.

“Huh, shit yeah that's, my friend Robin. You've met Robin. She helped me decorate, I said that right? And we got a shit tonne of stuff and it was in the bag and its meant to hang somewhere I said it was creepy but she said it wasn't, but the only other door was the bathroom and that's fucking weird so I put up here and it was the end of the tape with that weird cardboard bit on and it obviously didn't hold.”

He's red in the face gesticulating wildly, throwing his arm out and you can't help the amusement in your face as you touch it against his chest, halting his rambling, a long exhale leaving him.

He squeezes his eyes closed, taking it with a nod.

You watch him look down to the mistletoe, an angry little frown on his stupidly pretty face, and you were moving before you gave yourself a chance to back out.

Hand on his cheek moving his head and catching his lips softly. Your heart pounds in your chest, palms clammy against the slight stubble of his cheek and, he's not kissing you back. Reality slows for a beat too long so you pull away. His eyes are wide and he's just looking at you. You feel sick and are fumbling away to grab your bags as quickly as you can.

“I'm sorry, that was, the mistletoe and I just thought, it was stupid, not that kissing you would be. But I. ”

You don't see his chest heaving, fist closed so hard around the mistletoe it's leaving an indent in his palms because you're quite literally running away from him down the dark red hallway, heartbeat pounding in your ears, tears stinging your eyes and blurring your vision as you reach the stairs and, your pulled back.

Stumbling, large hands turn you around and he's there, cupping your face as he kisses you. Eyes scrunched closed and teeth knocking, noses pressed awkwardly together and you gasp clinging to his shirt.

You find your balance again and rearrange, the puzzle pieces finding the nooks where they fit as you kiss him back, lips moving quickly against each other as you find your rhythm. His arm drops around you to pull you in and you feel like you're about to burst and be carried away through the air vents.

When your hands come up to grip his hair he lets out a strangled sound from his throat and pulls away panting. It's silent as you look at each other's faces, breath mingling from kiss swollen lips as his thumb traces your cheekbone, you're sure your knees are going to give out at any moment.

You jump as a loud cough comes from behind you, both turning your heads to see an irritated man standing on the steps below. You step out of the way, Eddie's hand still firm between your shoulder blades keeping you pressed to his side as he throws an arm out to wave the man past.

His face comes down to yours again before the man has even cleared the hall.

“Can I keep kissing you?” it's almost urgent the way he says it and you nod quickly. “Thank fuck.” his mouth captures yours again softer and slower this time and you smile into it.

“Shit” he murmurs against your lips and you can't help the laugh that bubbles out of your chest breaking you apart again “Merry Christmas Eddie”, he bites his lip before kissing you firmly once leaving you giggling “Merry Christmas sweetheart.”

#my writing #eddie munson x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fem!reader #Fluff #awkward reader #stranger things #fan fiction #christmas fic

[copperbadge]

Let us end on cats!

First off, high five to everyone who participated in NaClYoHo, regardless of how much you got done or how quickly. Everything you did made your life better! (At least I hope. If it didn’t, you should spend December investigating whether or not you are cursed.) Thanks for playing along with me like always -- and let’s raise a silent toast to the inventer of Barkeeper’s Friend. 

Normally I would spend the last day of NaClYoHo trimming the Christmas tree and decorating, but I’m going to be gone for a couple of days beginning tomorrow afternoon and I don’t want to leave the cats alone for days on end with a brand new Shiny Thing To Explore. So I’ll get out the holiday decoration boxes when I get home on Sunday, and instead today I did the traditional Cleaning For The Catsitter. Which was in its own way a good way to end the month, because it was a general tidying-up and taking-stock. 

The place looks good! There’s a new electric blanket on the sofa and a new end-table at the end of it. All of my baking supplies now have their own home in the kitchen, which has been reorganized (somewhat) and scrubbed down (already filthy again but that’s kitchens for you). The craft supplies are all organized and stored. The bathroom is clean and has shiny new rugs and mats on the floor, the bedroom closet has been Kondo’d, and all the storage bins in the bedroom have been sorted through. All of the stuff to donate is in boxes in stacks next to the printer so that I can print labels and mail them off, one by one. The front hallway is almost completely clear of junk that’s been there for a year, and the hall closet has new storage bags in it to hold seasonal clothes, so they aren’t inaccessibly shoved under the bed anymore. There’s still a corner of the condo that’s just full of stuff to sort through but the corner is out of the way, and the stuff is not time-sensitive, I’ll get to it soon. Everything the moths got into has either been thrown out or washed thoroughly, and the moths have not been in evidence for at least two weeks. 

I have run the dishwasher every single day this month. If I don’t have food to last through the winter at this point it’s not my fault. 

And my fancy Christmas present from my folks, a new. compact, not-smelly and very quiet dehydrator, arrived today and has been cleaned and put away. Next farm share box arrives next Wednesday and I am gonna dehydrate the fuck out of at least some of what’s in it, whatever that may be. 

[ID: A photograph of my cats, Polk the tabby and Dearborn the tortie, lying on my duvet; for once they do not look super purple. Polk is stretched out in a sphinx-like position, front paws out in front of her, gazing suspiciously at the camera. Next to her, Dearborn is curled up in a ball, back to the camera, but her legs are also stretched out in front of her as if she just flopped down into a curl.]

#dearborn and polk #naclyoho #salty pirates #cleaning

[elocinnicole]

Mistletoe

Pairing: Daveed Diggs x Black!Reader [Lauren Taylor] (College AU) Rating: 18+ MINORS DNI smut (phone sex, mutual masturbation, fingering, oral f receiving, unprotected sex, overstimulation) Summary: Daveed offers his girlfriend some relief as she prepares for finals. AN: Hey! How y’all doing, ya girl is back! I had so much fun writing this I hope everyone enjoys! This is for DJ’sAllIWant4KChristmas22. So why not return with a Daveed Diggs smut? I hope everyone had a great Holiday and Happy New Year to Everyone!!!

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Word Count: 2.4K Prompt used: 13 "You didn’t think I’d let you spend Christmas alone, did you?”

December 2003

Lauren sat in her dorm, Erykah Badu playing on her iHome speaker, studying at her desk. She has Fall Semester finals approaching, and she feels like she’s at her breaking point. She’s in her senior year as an Architectural Studies Major and counting down the days until graduation. Her concentration was broken by her phone ringing. She quickly ignored the call as she diligently continued her sketch for the first part of her final project. Lauren was determined to finish her sketch despite the busy day she had. Not only did she do her work study, but she also had gymnastics practice today, to say she was tired would be an understatement. Her phone rang again, and she instantly hit decline. Whoever was calling her would have to wait.

When she was about to put the finishing touches on her sketch, her phone rang again. Frustrated she slammed her pencil down and answered the phone.

“Hello?” She greeted her voice laced with venom.

“Damn, you ain't check your caller ID?” Lauren tried to hold back the smile that was trying to form but she couldn’t help herself.

“You know you wanna smile, Lo.” Lauren’s boyfriend Daveed said through the phone.

“Hey, babe. I’m sorry I’m just trying to get this to work.” She responded not taking her eyes off the blueprint she was working on. She placed her phone on speaker and returned to working on the blueprint.

“You working on that blueprint still?”

“Yeah, I want it to be perfect.”

“Don’t stress yourself out, you already sent me a picture. It looks amazing.” Daveed insisted, his voice heavy and low

“What you doin’ you sound tired?”

“I’m good, are you alone?” Lauren raised her eyebrow at the question.

“Um, yeah, Jamila and Kaitlyn are at the library and Alyssa left Monday. Fucking English major.” She lamented

“So that means you by yourself?”

“Yeah, you already asked me that. What’s going on?”

“I want you to stop working on your blueprint.”

“What? Babe, no I told you before I need to get this done I have gymnastics practice tomorrow.”

“Lauren.”

The tone of his voice made her stop, she rubbed her thighs together in anticipation and arousal.

“Yeah,” she breathed

“Get on the bed for me.” Lauren quickly grabbed her phone and climbed onto her bed. “You in bed?” Lauren nodded forgetting for a split second that he couldn’t see her, she heard him chuckle and mentally slapped her forehead

“Can you use your words, babe?”

“Yeah,”

“Where’s your vibrator?” Lauren rolled her eyes at her boyfriend’s question

“It’s not a vibrator, it’s a massager.” She stressed

“Then why you keep it under your pillow?”

“For when my leg cramps up at night.”

“Oh aight” Daveed replied unconvinced “What you wearin’ right now?”

“My blue shorts, the ones you like, and your Track shirt. Do you want me to take it off?”

“No, leave it on. I’ve been missing you, Lo.” Daveed breathed into the phone

“I miss you too D,” Lauren moaned into the phone, while she caressed her breasts

“Whatchu doin Lo?” Daveed asked her but they fell on deaf ears as she started to pinch and pull on her nipples “I didn’t say you could touch yourself, Lo.” Lauren sighed before reluctantly removing her hands from her breast.

“D,”

“I got you, Lo, take off your shirt for me. Play with your nipples Lo.” Daveed chuckled at the shuffling he heard over the phone. Lauren groaned as she did what she was told, she heard Daveed curse into the hone. “Fuck, babe I wish I could see you right now. Tell me how you feel?”

“It feels good…but fuck, I wish it was you.”

“I know Lauren me too,”

“Shit, Daveed.”

“Go head and see who wet you are,” Daveed said huskily

Lauren didn’t hesitate and immediately began to rub her clit, her hips began to move on their own, whimpering at how good it made her feel. She pressed two fingers inside moaning and gasping aloud.

“Daveed, I want you so bad right now.” She could hear his breath becoming heavier it was clear he was touching himself as well. Just then the door to the dorm swung open. In record time, Lauren pulled her blanket over her body to shield her bare chest.

“Lauren! Guess what the fuck happened—” one of Lauren’s other roommates Jamila called out

“You good?” She questioned eyeing Lauren,

“Uh, yeah I’m just talking to Daveed.”

“Oh, hey Daveed!” She greeted, seemingly clueless as to what was happening before she walked into the room.

“Hey Jamila,” Lauren took Daveed off speaker and held the phone to her ear.

“I’ll talk to you later,”

“Okay, when do you come home?”

“I’m staying through break, I’m taking a winter class and I have practice so I’ll be spending Christmas here.” Lauren deadpanned

“Damn, Lo. I thought we could spend some time together.”

“Me too, but we have Olympic trials coming up and I’m on the shortlist.”

“I understand, stop working on your project and get some rest.”

“Since when do you tell me what to do?” Lauren teased

“Do I need to remind you who’s in charge?”

“Maybe, I think I forgot,” She flirted back causing Jamaica to gag dramatically, Lauren rolled her eyes at her roommate

“Bye Daveed, love you.”

“Love you too.”

“Alright, guys I have to go soon. I’ll be home after New Year,” Lauren said to her parents over the phone

“Okay, sweetie. Merry Christmas!” Overlapping Holiday greetings rang over the phone from various family members.

“Merry Christmas Mom and Dad, I love you!” Lauren ended the phone call, tears threatening to fall. This is her favorite time of the year and not spending it with her family or Daveed, was hitting her hard this year. She disliked the one person who could make her feel better, hoping to get rid of his feeling.

Lauren frowned when she was sent to voicemail after one ring. She dialed his number again and the same thing, straight to voicemail. He’s never ignored her call unless he’s texted her that he was doing work or at practice. Wanting to shrug off the feeling she went back to working on her final project for class. Maybe she’ll call him later.

She was about to call him back again when there was a knock at her door. Lauren glanced at the cooktop that was still plugged in from breakfast, she cursed under her breath. Someone must’ve snitched to the RA.

“Hold on!” she called out, she haphazardly put stored the cooktop elsewhere before walking over to her door she swung it open only to be surprised by the person standing on the other side of the door.

“You didn’t think I’d let you spend Christmas alone, did you?” Lauren jumped into Daveed’s arms, wrapping her arms and legs around him. Lauren finally unwrapped here self from her boyfriend so that he could come into her room.

“What about your family?” Daveed shrugged his shoulders

“I wanted to be with you more,” Daveed grabbed her chin and tilted her head until their lips met in a kiss.

“I have some things for you,” He said against her lips before kissing her once more.

“Oh really?”

“But first,” Daveed smirked before picking up his girlfriend and effortlessly carrying her to her bed. He leaned down to kiss her when Lauren put up her hand to stop him

“I’m still working on my project, give me like five minutes,” Daveed sighed dramatically

“You can get yourself settled then I promise you’ll have my attention.” Lauren kissed his nose before hopping off her bed and going to her work.

Daveed told Lauren he had to step out for a bit to get something he left behind and to pick them up something to eat. She didn’t realize how long he was gone until she saw the time on her phone. Just as she was about to text him, her door opened and Daveed walked in with some Target bags and takeout food.

“Sorry I took so long, I was looking for something.”

“What were you trying to find, Lauren Sid not taking her eyes off the laptop in front of her.”

“This,” Lauren turned around and chuckled when she saw Daveed holding a mistletoe

“You’re so adorable,” Daveed frowned slightly

“Adorable?” Lauren playfully rolled her eyes a she walked up to Daveed

“How does sexy sound?”

“Much better, I think you owe me a kiss.” Daveed cradled the back of Lauren's head and brought their lips together in a kiss. Tier lips still attached, Daveed forgot the mistletoe toe and picked up Lauren, not that it was hard picking her up. He walked them to her bed until they fell back. Lauren was the first to pull back.

Lauren looked up at Daveed, she shuddered at the feel of his hands gliding up the back of her legs until his hands were just below her ass. He pulled her so that she was properly straddling him

“No one’s here right”? He asked

“Yeah,” Lauren breathed suddenly feeling hot

“Good, because I want to hear you.” Lauren put both of her hands on his face and pulled him towards her. She whimpered not the kiss before seeping it. Daveed moaned into the kiss, gently biting her lip before sweeping it with his tongue. His hands moved from caressing her back to expertly undoing her bra and tossing it aside. Daveed moved from her mouth and continued down until he reached her neck and found the spot that made her pull his hair.

“Daveed” Lauren whined. In a flash, Daveed flipped them over so that he was on top. He pulled off his shirt before taking off Lauren’s. His large hand roughly palmed her breast while he sucked and nibbled the other purposely avoiding her nipple making Lauren groan

“What do you want Lo?” He asked smugly before going back to mouthing at her chest.

“Daveed please?” She wrapped her leg around him, wanting to feel him even closer

“This what you want?” Daveed put his whole mouth on her breast, sucking and biting on her nipple

“Fuck, Daveed! Ahh!” She wailed

“You sound so pretty baby,” Daveed whispered before giving her other breast the same treatment. Just as Lauren was about to find out if one could actually cum just from nipple play, Daveed stopped and pulled away.

“Fuck, you look so beautiful,” Daveed said huskily before he started kissing down her body until they reached her shorts, she lifted up so that Daveed could take them off and raised an eyebrow

“No panties, were expecting someone?” He teased

“I don’t know, maybe I was.” She teased back, Daveed smiled darkly before parting her lips and diving in using his tongue to lick up and down.

“Mmm Daveed,” Lauren eyes rolled to the back of her head when his tongue flicked over that small bundle of nerves, not that it took him long to find it. He pushed her legs so that her knees were pressing into her chest, keeping her open for him. His lips still attached to her clit, he pressed two fingers deep into her

Lauren chanting his name was much to his ears, her pussy clenched down on his fingers. He looked up at Lauren and he could’ve um right there, the way her face contorted in pleasure, the way her hands were gripping onto his hair. He finally pulled away from her clit to reach up and sloppily kiss her. Lauren moaned, tasting herself on Daveed’s lips

“You close Lo?”

“Yes, D, baby I’m so close. I wanna come,” Just as she was about one, Daveed stopped his ministrations.

“I want you to come around my dick,” Daveed sat up so that he could take off his pants and boxers. He reached over to his bag and quickly searched it before letting out a sigh

“Damn it,”

“What?”

“I can’t find the condom,”

“I’m on the pill," Lauren said quickly

“Since when?”

“Last month. Merry Christmas,” Daveed grabbed Lauren’s neck and pulled in for another kiss, Lauren pulled him back down to her, she reached down grabbing Daveed’s flick to rub hit against her, Daveed started to slowly ease in, and he pushed until he was all the way in, he waited for Lauren to nod before he pulled out and pushed back in. Lauren cried into his neck, wrapping her arms around him tightly, every thrust making her whimper for more.

“D, harder,” Daveed happily obliged, putting more force behind each thrust. He reached down and hooked his arms under her knees, and with renewed vigor, he slammed into Lauren “Ahh, fuck!”

“Babe, you taking me so well, fuck I missed you.” He grunted

“Daveed, I’m coming, I’m coming!” Lauren hit her climax, shuddering as Daveed continued to fuck her, starting to feel sensitive, she tried to back away but Daveed held her closer

“Un uh, this my pussy, take this dick,” Daveed said chasing his orgasm and wanting to push Lauren over the edge.

“I can’t Daveed,”

“Give me one more, Lo,” Daveed’s rhythm faltered before he stilled as his own climax overtook him, Lauren climaxing shortly after. They laud there shaking and trembling in the arms of each other. Daveed slowly pulled out and lay next to Lauren pulling her close to him. They sat there in silence for a while, just holding each other. The food is long forgotten sitting on Lauren’s desk. “Thank you for spending Christmas with me, it was really sweet of you to drive here.”

“I know how much you love the holidays and I didn’t want you to spend it alone. I love you, Lo, like it or not you’re stuck with me,” he joked

“I guess you’re alright.” Lauren teased

“Alright, I wasn’t alright this minutes ago, ‘Daveed, don’t stop! Daveed,” Daveed mocked with his best imitation

“Keep it up, that’ll be the last time you hear it.”

“You know I’m just playing,”

“Mhmm, you got jokes huh.”

“How can I make it up to you?”

“Hmmm, we can watch my favorite movie while we eat.”

“Lethal Weapon?”

“It’s a Christmas Movie,”

“There’s like two scenes that reference Christmas time, it’s not the premise of the movie.”

“And?”

“Fine, I can straighten up in here while you heat up the food?”

“Deal.” Their lips met in a haste kiss. As much as Lauren missed her family this year for the Holidays, there’s no one else she’d rather be with at this moment than Daveed.

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Life Is Short So Make It Sweet

Chapter Twelve: When It All Feels Like Home

Summary-8.4k Curtis x Plus!Sized Reader. The beginning of December brings on the cold, snowy temperatures that are associated with holidays in Michigan. It also means Curtis is working in the craziness that comes with the outdoor elements. The biggest difference now is that his house is becoming a welcoming home after those long exhausting days.

Warnings- smut, because I love to give these two good times. Also discussion of co-parenting and upcoming holiday

A/N- so there will be a couple chapters right in a row as I want to release my holiday chapters near the week of the 25th. Thank you so much everyone for rooting for these two so much and embracing the growth happening. Special thank you to @what-is-your-plan-today for undertaking the editing of this project and making time among everything you are doing yourself, as well as the text message pictures to add to this chapter. Dividers made by @firefly-graphics

Chapter Eleven / Masterlist

December came and it seemed that winter did too in full force. It made for long days at the freight yard for Curtis and his crew. The cold froze up the engines, the moving parts of the train seizing up, which meant parts would snap and kill the trains right on the tracks. So in the bitter cold, the crew worked until they had to take breaks in the office to warm back up when it became too much. 

Tanya was always prepared for these days it seemed. Using the company's allowance, she stocked up on hot drinks and plenty of snacks. Every morning she made rounds at the local bakery for freshly made donuts and croissants, feeling the crew deserved only the best. 

Curtis was particularly grateful that Friday when he burst into the office with the wind blowing at his back, seeming to penetrate right through his layers to chill him to the bone. Yanking off his gloves to shove them in his jacket pockets, he huffed in his palms, breathing in relief. Tanya looked up from the counter where she was processing incoming orders with a sympathetic look. “I just put a pot on. Be done in a minute.” 

“Thanks Tanya.” Curtis said gratefully while right behind him Edgar and Grey followed as well seeking warmth. “She got coffee and hot water on, go warm up guys.” Curtis encouraged them, and they didn’t waste any time darting into the heated break room. Curtis leaned against the counter, still rubbing his hands warm. “How did we get so lucky to have you?” 

Tanya glanced up from the computer screen. “Nam pays pretty fucking good and has excellent benefits for Timmy and me. Also, everyone but you guys leave me alone.” She deadpanned. 

“Well, there is no arguing with that.” Curtis laughed and Tanya shooed him out of the lobby. 

“Git, I got phone calls to make and you got trains to fix.” 

Still chuckling to himself, he wandered into the break room to see the guys hovered over steaming cups and donuts that they were picking at. Curtis flipped open the box to grab a flakey croissant for himself and poured a cup of black coffee to sit across from them. 

He took this moment to check his phone, seeing your typical good morning text along with a picture of your cup of honeyed tea that you were sipping from. Curtis could tell from your background that you were already in your classroom, the periodic table as your background from the large poster you had hanging behind your desk. 

Curtis wasn’t expecting anything right away but you were quick. Your incoming text was just a picture of your cleavage peeking out the top of your shirt and he snorted in amusement at your following sentence. 

Curtis couldn't hide that bit of a grin as he texted his own goodbye. When he put his phone away and went to take a sip of his coffee, he glanced up to see both Grey and Edgar staring at him with matching smirks. “What?” He scowled at them. 

“Y/N send you a fun text?” Grey dunked his donut before taking a bite, Edgar next to him wiggling his brows. 

“From the way Curtis actually looks like he is enjoying using the phone, I would say so.” 

Curtis flipped them off but was a bit smug since they were right and it felt so good. 

Things never seem to work out the way they are planned, and today proved no exception. Curtis had really wanted to leave on time today after a whole week of staying late to arrive home to an empty house. However, each night there had been a small something to look forward to, as you had started to leave him something in the fridge ready to be warmed up. These were usually accompanied by a post it note containing the reheating directions and a little pick me up joke, you also ensured that when his six-pack of favorite beer seemed to be running down mid-week, you’d restocked that too.

So life wasn’t all bad, but as he’d told you in his message earlier that day, he was looking forward to his Friday night, more so taking you out and then you spending the night. It was the thing that he’d focussed on all week, what was keeping him going and sane through the demanding schedule and workload. 

But Gilliam then asked for one more thing to be done before the weekend, and that one last thing turned into a project and a half for him since Edgar and Grey left, not knowing Curtis was sticking behind. He didn’t tell them, knowing they were just as tired as he was. Finally, he finished and was making his way to his truck with a sense of relief the day had ended. And it was then that Tanya came rushing over, trying to keep warm with numerous layers of clothing on. He urgently rolled down the window to check in with her.

“Curtis, the car won’t start.” 

He had her get into the cab of the truck to keep warm while he jump started her battery. Giving it a few minutes, Curtis had it charged once more and it had started snowing heavily at this point. Pulling away his battery cables he paused at Tanya’s car as she worked on getting it to warm up. “I’m gonna follow you, home. Just make sure the car doesn’t give you any more trouble.” 

“You don’t have to-”

“Well, I wasn’t asking Tanya.” He pushed off her door and went back to his own truck. That killed another half hour, maneuvering the roads now that the snow decided to start piling up. Once he was sure she was safe back home, he went to message you that he would be home soon, but circumstances would have it his phone was dead.

“You got to be fucking kidding me.” He muttered as he shoved it back in his pocket. 

Luck was not on his side. 

It had been a while since he had been this thankful to get home, but relief filled him when he pulled up to his house, the lights twinkling in various rooms and the garage light lit up for him. Your car was stuck off to the side, which he made a mental note to go get your keys so he could pull it into the garage for the night. 

Fuck, shit, fuck…

His eyes fell to his dashboard clock. It was so late already and he had promised you date night. He knew just how much you had been looking forward to it since he had been so busy all week that you two hadn’t been able to do anything together. He was going to have to make it up to you and just hope that you wouldn’t be mad. 

That said, it was possible for him to still salvage some of the night; it was Friday so Paulie’s would be open till at least two in the morning, he thought to himself a bit grimly as he gathered his stuff to make the dash from the warm truck to inside. Steeling himself, he made a quick jog along the edge of the house and stomped his boots on the steps to get rid of the loose snow before stepping inside. 

Inside was so warm, it hit him in the face at first before he sunk into all the sensations it brought. It smelled like you had something cooking, the warm yeasty smell of bread greeted him as well as a thick rich brothy aroma. He set everything he had down on the door side table. 

“Y/N?” He called out while pulling off his boots and shrugging out of his jacket. “I’m sorry Honey, work was crazy. Gilliam needed this last thing done and then Tanya’s piece of shit car died from the cold. My phone died or I would have called…” He went on, not entirely sure where you were but you padded out of the living room and he paused, taking in the very domestic scene you presented. 

In your hand was a book, still open to the page you left off at, your reading glasses perched at the end of your nose and you were bundled in fuzzy PJs and a tank top with the couches crochet lap blanket wrapped around your shoulders. You didn't say anything for a second, just blinking at him and he muttered. “I promise… I will make it up to you Honey.” 

“Curtis.” You finally broke the silence as you were sure to tuck a slip of paper in your book and set it down. He felt his heart hammering suddenly in his chest, not wanting you to be disappointed when you gave him a smile as you approached him. “Welcome home and I already know, Tanya called me to let me know what happened.” You went to your tiptoes to pluck off his beanie and you cupped the back of his neck to give him a proper kiss. “I have dinner on the stove, hot might I add. What about you go take a shower and get comfy?” 

“Y/N, I promised to take you out tonight.” He mentioned, his brow furrowing at you as he pointed out the facts that he did indeed assure you that tonight would be your night. “We can still make it to Paulie’s if you wanted.” His hands fell to your waist, pulling you in closer like he craved, but keeping you well enough away because his work clothes he still had on were indeed grimy as well as his face from where he half crawled into an engine today fixing parts on it. 

For you it was incredibly sexy, easily recalling your last reaction to when he came in from the garage after working on the Camaro. You also didn't miss the tired drawn look he had or the worry lines as well as his eyes taking on that worried expression. “I mean… if you really want to we can go out, but I’m pretty comfy right now with my book and thought maybe we can go get breakfast instead tomorrow?” You plucked at his shirt, missing his necklace that you knew was tucked away for now. 

“Breakfast…” He pondered on it, his fingers flexing against your fluffy PJ bottoms till he slipped his chilly hands up further, seemingly craving the bare skin under your shirt. It sent a shiver through you but you kept quiet, waiting on him to make a choice. “You are really okay with that?” 

“Absolutely, if I don’t have to redress and go out in that mess, I’m all for that.” 

“You are the best.” He finally sagged a bit, letting himself finally relax now that he wasn’t worried. You grinned cheekily up at him and winked. 

“I know. Do you want dinner first or a shower?” 

His head lifted curiously to glance towards the kitchen and then his stomach gave off a growl that could rival just about anyone. “I am starving, Y/N, what do you have? It smells friggin amazing.” 

You laughed while tugging him towards the kitchen and pushed him gently into the kitchen chair. “Chill, I got this. Do you like beef stew? I made it right after work today so its had time to simmer for a few hours.” Your eyes flitted up to the clock hanging to take note of the late hour. 

“Love it, I would love anything you gave me.” He admitted as you scooped out a full bowl for him, then added a dash of pepper and salt.

“Bread? You can even have the best piece.” You teased as you cut off a thick slice of crust, the steam still rolling off it. 

“The crust? With butter?” He said almost wistfully and you glanced over to see him all wide eyed and looking like he was ready to pounce on either you or the bread, you couldn't quite tell. But it still made you giggle seeing him look like you were his personal saving grace right now. 

“Of course Curtis.” You dunk a spoon in the thick stew and brought it over to sit on the table, taking some pleasure at just how grateful he looked, one arm going around you in a loose hug and his face pressed to your breasts in a comforting move.

“Fuck I’m the luckiest man right now.” He muttered and you ran a hand over his short hair. When he let you go, Curtis eagerly ate his food while you made some for yourself, sitting across the table from him. 

It was quiet, there wasn’t a need to share in conversation right now. You were happy enough to see him enjoying his food while messaging a check-in with Tanya and letting Edgar know that they wouldn't be coming for the traditional Friday night game from his phone he had plugged in while you were getting the food. You had picked up your book, reading a few more pages when he chuckled across the table.

“Ella sent me this, I guess Sophia is loving the snow.” Handing over his phone for you to watch the video, he gathered his dirty dishes to rinse at the sink. 

“I know I just met her… but I want to get Sophia something for Christmas.” You chuckled at the video of the toddler jumping in the snow piles. “What does she like?” 

Curtis started to take care of food after asking if you wanted more. “Dollhouse stuff, Grey’s father is making her one, baby dolls, stuffies, she seems to be into dressing up now.” 

You perked up. “Really? I have some stuff for the drama department that we are not gonna use. Ella or Grey wouldn’t care if it's slightly used?” 

“Nah, that wouldn’t bother them. Sophia would be thrilled with something like that.” 

You took the last bite of your stew and swiped your bread through your bowl. “Ella and Grey, they are great at co parenting.” 

“They are, as soon as they found out Ella was pregnant, they just worked it all out, a few bumps now and then. There was never an actual relationship there, just a drunken night on both their parts. But I think that's why it works out. No anger or hurt feelings of having been in a relationship before? I don’t know but they have always been good friends and Sophia just cemented that part for them. They are both adamant though that they don’t want to be together.” Curtis shrugged at the situation as he washed a few of the dirty dishes built up in the sink. “The day I found out, Ella came over and said “So I have twenty bucks on Grey kicking your ass but guess what, your bestie knocked me up, you are gonna be an uncle!” 

You snorted out laughing and Curtis joined in with a hearty laugh at the memory, taking your dirty dishes to wash up quickly as well. “Sounds… very on point for your cousin.” You admitted and he nodded. 

“Yes, I’m gonna head up and shower now. Wanna watch a movie in bed instead of down here?” 

“Sure, I will be up in a bit.” You gathered your stuff and while Curtis went up the stairs, you finished cleaning up the kitchen as well as went to bump the heat up enough so that the bathroom upstairs would warm up for him. You made the rounds around the house to make sure everything was closed up so Curtis wouldn't have to and then made your way upstairs with your book firmly tucked under your arm. 

The bathroom door was ajar and you could hear the water running as well as the warm billow of steam escaping now and then. You flicked on the tv while crawling into the large bed after you pulled down the blankets to settle under them. You heard the water cut off and then the light dimmed, knowing he had left a nightlight going to use in the middle of the night.

“Did you find something?” He asked and you screwed up your face while going through the guide. 

“No, are you interested in anything?” 

He had a pair of sweatpants slung low on his waist as he padded around the bedroom, getting himself ready. “No, I’m going to be honest, I will probably fall asleep pretty quick tonight now that you fed me and I got that hot shower in.” 

You watched him pick up his dirty clothes, his bare back flexing with his movements, and every time he twisted around to face you once more, his silver chain would bounce against his chest. Your eyes roved over the light hair dusted tattoos, then your gaze fell down to the line of hair traveling his softer belly to disappear in his grey comfy sweat pants, fuck. You knew he wore them just because they were comfortable, but they had your libido growing fangs, like always. However, you could see that he was tired and you shoved the blankets on his side down while you settled back into the pillows. “I have a better idea. Instead of watching television.” You set the remote aside after turning off the bedroom tv while he finally came to settle on his side of the bed. 

“What's that?” His arm circled around your hips while he let his head rest against your breasts, pressing his face into the curves to nip the plump tops your sports bra made before he properly laid down, settling finally with a sigh. 

“I’m not in the mood for tv and you're just wanting to sleep. I will read to you.” You plucked your book from the nightstand and put on your glasses. His gaze lifted from under heavy black lashes to flash with interest. 

“You want to read to me looking like a sexy teacher in your glasses and expect me to sleep.” His hand squeezed your hip.

“Yes, if you close your eyes and listen, Curtis.” You smirked at him, your nails scratching lightly over his scalp and the back of his neck. “If I can resist the sweatpants and chain…” You looped a finger in his chain and moved it enough to rub against the back of his neck before scratching your nails lightly down his bare back. Soon heated red streaks started to color his pale skin. “You can resist the glasses.” 

Curtis groaned and he pushed his face in the softness of your belly, resettling himself comfortably. “Point taken, If I wasn't whipped I would remedy that though.” 

“Tomorrow.” You hummed as you flipped your book open. 

It didn't take long, between the steady hum of your voice and the warmth of being against your soft body, Curtis was soon out. His snores were rougher and more frequent than usual, he was still hugging around you and when you would stop moving your hand against his upper back, he would groan in his sleep seeking out that touch once more, but he was out. When you finally tired yourself a couple hours later and eased out from under him, he never woke up. You were quiet as you went to brush your teeth and slip into something a bit more comfortable. 

When you eased back in, on Curtis’s side of the bed since he was sprawled out in the side you slept in, you pulled up to his back and hugged around his waist while you kissed a bare shoulder, sure that you two were covered comfortably as the wind howled louder outside and snowflakes softly beat against the window’s pane. 

“Night Curtis.” You whispered, not expecting anything from him but he gave a sleepy sounding reply.

“Night Honey.” 

Curtis woke the next morning feeling refreshed. The morning sun was just seeping through the snow covered window and with a quick glance to check on you, he eased from bed to go look out the window to see the damage. 

It was enough to warrant him shoveling. But, that wasn’t so bad since he had most of the day to get it done. Going to use the bathroom real quick, he eased back into bed and hugged around your waist, pulling up behind you. You sighed in your sleep, and pressed your ass back into him for warmth. But you were still very much asleep. 

He was careful to press kisses against the back of your neck while his hand inched over your belly. Softness, you were soft and giving all over and he loved feeling your warmth. He wished he could tell you how much in a way that you would accept it and one day he would. 

You were so inviting, when his hand went into your sleep shorts and stroked along your inner thighs, you spread your legs apart, little noises starting to escape you as he dragged you from wherever your dreams took you.

Curtis knew he should let you continue sleeping, but he was being selfish, wanting to feel you around him.  

The scuff of his beard against the sensitive area behind your ear had you tilting to find it again and escape it at once. His fingers teased, giving strokes to your slit till you were shifting to meet his touch. His thumb did a barely there little twirl against your clit all while Curtis rubbed himself against you from behind, his groin pressing firmly against your ass. You hid your face into a pillow while his arm wedged underneath you, cupping your breast through your nightshirt and giving firm pushes and pulls.

“Mornin’” He whispered in your ear as you whined into the pillow. You wanted more, your hand shooting between your thighs to grasp his wrist and move him against your pussy in the way that made you cuss into the pillow. 

“Fuck, need you.” 

More kisses and lashes of tongue covered your neck and shoulder while he groaned in your ear. “Lift your hips up.” He pulled his hand out of your sleep shorts and you whined at the loss of contact but did as he said. It was enough for him to hook his fingers at the elastic band and drag your sleep shorts down. You kicked them off while his bare chest brushed against your back and his hand pushed his sweats down enough to be able to ease his cock out. A thigh pressed behind yours while he hissed against your pulse point. “Open up for me Honey.” 

You were still in a hazy sleepiness that had you moving slow, so much that Curtis grasped your knee and lifted your leg enough to hook it over his, his cock pressing between your folds to glide easily in your slick. You gave another impatient whine that made him chuckle roughly while he tilted his hips and his cock pressed into you to stretch you open for him. “Shit Y/N, like you were made for me, I swear.” He teased a nipple through your sleep tank, making them perky and sensitive against the fabric. 

“Yeah…” You agreed with him while velvet warmth squeezed his cock nestled deep inside of you. You wanted him to move, almost ready to beg him for it when he folded your leg up to press against your belly and he pushed himself harder against you. The move tightened you, making you gasp at the sensation of his thick cock pulsing in you, every drag pushing and pulling into you, you could feel the way his cock filled you, dragging thickly against your sensitive walls and eased your slick from you to coat the back of your thighs. 

“Squeezing so hard, fuck Pretty Girl.” He grunted as he fucked into you faster, holding your back against his chest. His hand flexed against the back of your thigh, somehow folding you tighter. You both were rocking hard enough for the bed to thump against the wall, the bed frame creaking from motion. 

But he didn’t notice, all he could feel was how giving you were, arching back into him with these soft little pleas and cries. Your head tilted to find him and he pushed himself over you enough to give a sloppy kiss, huffing against your mouth when his hips started snapping harshly against your ass, skin slapping and the wet squelch of your pussy filling the quiet space of the bedroom.

“Curtis… fuck you are so deep.” Whining against his mouth and pushing your hand between your thighs to spread your fingers around his cock pulling out, adding to the sensations of you gripping around him. 

“Jesus Honey.” He bit at the back of your shoulder as he rutted his cock deep inside of you, making you cry out in just the way he wanted. “Good girl…” He pressed the praises right in your skin, scratching beard flaring your skin while he pounded into you just like that till you couldn't hold out any longer. You gave a shuddering cry as you let go. “Fuck Honey… You’re just too sweet.” He groaned as you felt him jerk himself in you, warmth spread through you and you both sagged against each other. 

You pried his hand off the back of your thigh and let your leg drop with a quivering motion. “Shit…” he muttered, his cock softening in you but made no move to pull out just yet. His arm circled your waist and kissed all over your shoulder. “Morning Honey. You still with me?” 

You grasped his hand pressed against your belly, weaving your fingers through his. “No, no I’m not. I don't know when I will recover.” You retorted, feeling him laugh behind you and he spooned up behind you further, smirking as his lips pressed against your neck. 

“I’m a patient man.” 

You two laid like that for a while but then Curtis eased from you, in which you twisted to face him, seeming to study him while you reached to twist your fingers in his chain, giving him an almost shy smile. “Morning, you look like you got some much needed rest.” 

His leg pressed through yours and he hooked your leg over his while he cupped your face and pulled in to kiss you deeply, drawing you into him till you were tucked in closer while looking all wide eyed. “I did, thank you for taking care of me.” Then there was that little bashful smile he was growing accustomed to. 

“It was nothing.” You tried brushing it off as no big deal but Curtis hugged you against him. 

“Not to me Honey.” 

Later after you got ready for the day, Curtis insisted you two go to breakfast like you had suggested the night before. Together you both bundled up and brushed off the vehicles of last night's snowfall. You might have gotten a few well-tossed snowballs at Curtis’s back which had gone down the collar of his jacket and made him sputter while shaking his shirt to get it to fall out. In return Curtis scooped up a handful of snow to toss back at you, making you yelp. 

“All’s fair in love and war Sweetheart.” Curtis helped you wipe off the snow crystals, but not before he ducked you flicking more at him. 

Taking you to the Wayside, you cringed at all the booths lining the wall, but Curtis reassuringly led you towards the back next to a small little stove that proved to be just the nice quiet setting you weren't expecting. “No one comes back here so they miss this nice little feature.” Curtis hangs both your coats near the pellet stove to dry from when you two were goofing off earlier. 

Settling at the little table, as soon as you two had your orders placed and drinks brought to you, the conversation turned to the upcoming holiday. 

“Are you sticking around here for Christmas?” 

You squeezed the packet of honey into your mug and ducked your tea bag a few times. “I was face timing Mom last night before you got home about what they are planning on doing this year. I guess Jade wasn’t coming up from Florida. Frank’s Mom was flying in from Boston to spend it with Mary and she didn’t want to disrupt their plans since her grandmother doesn’t come very often.” 

Curtis let his fingers wander up and down your thigh, listening intently as he always did with you. He had probably been the only boyfriend you have had that actually focused entirely on you when you spoke. “Too bad they didn’t plan that a bit better, considering your parents and Evelyn are not too far away.” 

“Right, like a three hour drive.” You shrugged and shook your head. “They probably didn't even think of that. But I will probably plan to fly home around when the kids take spring break at this point.” Curtis took all that into account, filing it away. “How about you Curtis?” 

“Well, the past couple of years I have gone to Ella’s in the morning for Sophia and have lunch with them. Then they head off to Grey’s parents. I don’t really know what is happening this year. I guess Grey’s folks have rented this big cabin to do this huge family Christmas. So right now, not entirely sure.” Curtis didn’t want to push but he did throw it out there for you to ponder about. “If you want to do something at your place, I’m open to it. But only if it's something you want to consider.”

You sipped from your mug, flashing him a smile and nod. “Never know, how about we play it by ear for now? I hate to make you feel like you gotta come see me if Sophia wants her Uncle Curtis to open presents with.” 

“I think that my time can include all the important people in my life Honey.” Curtis assured you with a grip on your chin and pull you in close enough to press a sticky maple syrup kiss to your lips, making your cheeks heat up while licking off the sweet taste. 

Shortly after the Christmas convo, you both were finished with breakfast with a push of your plates that still had bites of syrupy french toast and hash browns with groans complaining of being too full. After settling the bill, Curtis and you took a brief walk down the main street, window shopping for ideas for friends and family. You made a couple purchases for your sister and niece in a second-hand vintage clothing store as well you went into a local goods store that had walls lined with jams, pickles, and the most golden honey that you simply couldn't pass up. Bundling up some jams, a golden rich looking jar of clover honey, and several dripping slices of honeycomb, Curtis then suggested heading home as the wind off the lake was picking up, making everything drop well below freezing. 

Once back to the house, Curtis had you go inside while he snagged your car keys to pull your car into the garage, something he had originally planned on doing the night before. Once indoors, you filled the ancient looking tea kettle on the stove to start heating water and you unraveled your newest treasures. 

You had started accumulating teas and cocoas you enjoyed in Curtis's cupboards for when you were staying over and now you had the perfect sweetener to pair off with it. The jar went right into the cupboard above the stove, but the honeycomb was too much of a temptation. 

You heard Curtis come in from the garage as you were prying off the mason jar top to dip a spoon into the comb, pushing it to break off a chunk that was laden with honey. You scooped the nibble into your mouth, chewing the wax slowly to savor it when Curtis came up behind you to hug around your waist, something that you associated as a comfort thing for him. 

“I was hoping you would be opening it right away. I wanna taste.” He informed you. You had to smile to yourself hearing him, he had made sure to word it just so you wouldn't feel guilty about opening the sweet treat. You went to push the spoon back into the dish to give him a taste when Curtis eased you around. “No Honey, I want a proper taste.” 

He caught you by surprise with the kiss, his lips pressing heatedly to yours and a sweep of his tongue collecting the sweetness that coated your lips till you opened for him, giving him room for a more thorough kiss. Exploring the warmth you provided, his hands pressed past the clothing you were wearing, emitting a impatient groan at the way he had to tug and pull your clothing out of the way till he found your silky softness underneath it all, his fingers grasping your curves till he had a sturdy grasp and lifted you to the kitchen counter. 

It still caught you by surprise, giving a gasp against his mouth that made him smirk momentarily before claiming your honey dipped tongue once more. If only he could always be with you like this, a natural sweetness just enhancing the moment, he knew Honey was so fitting a name for you. You always tasted of wildflower sunshine. 

Your hand slid up his chest to his shoulder, digging in to hold on. Curtis could overwhelm you in all the best ways. Any doubts that might have snuck in suddenly didn't exist as this blue-eyed man just kept exploring and dragging out soft moans and gentle yet urgent desires from your body. What were you even doing, you forgot as he pulled away, studying your dazed expression before easing you back from your high, less urgent, and gentler hands cupping your face, sweeping gentle patterns along your jawline as he said something to you.  

“Hmm?” you hummed, still processing the tingle in your lips or the wonderful way your body felt heavy, wanting that hard press of him against you. 

“The kettle Y/N, its whistling.” The corner of his swollen kissed lip tilted up in amusement at your daze and you blinked at him before it registered. 

It was indeed screaming at you, a glance over showed steam pushing from the top and you reached over to turn it off, slipping the kettle to the other burner before turning back to your menace. 

“I don’t know where you learned to kiss like that Curtis, but give a girl a warning.” 

He scoffed as he smoothed his hands along your thighs, shaking his head. “No way, it's way too much fun to get you to give me that look.” 

“What look?” You slipped down from the counter when he stepped back, cutting out a chunk of comb to put into your cup. ‘Do you want one?” 

“No, I rather taste it on you.” He took the kettle to pour it into your mug while you gave the neediest whine at his words, feeling your face heat up at just the implication he just dropped. 

“That dazed look where you look like you seemed to have forgotten where you were at.”

Reaching over you while you stirred your cup to melt some of the honey in it, he took a chance at picking from your tea selection and handed you a lemon zinger, which you happily accepted. 

You blinked wide eyed at him while taking a cautious sip from your steaming mug. “Like we just did?” 

Curtis popped a shoulder, smirking as he could see you squirming like you were and trying not to be obvious. He reached over to brush his thumb over your lip, collecting wet droplets from it and sucking on the bad of his thumb. “Among other ways. All those soft curves…” He let his gaze lower, so bluntly checking you out that you felt yourself stop breathing. “Well I can think of plenty of ways to use that sweetness on you Honey.” 

You gave a squeak unlike anything he had ever heard from you and you stuttered, like your brain short circuited. “I-I gotta go do that thing. Yes, that thing. They need that thing done.” You suddenly turned on your heel and stomped from the kitchen towards the living room where you were working on the drama club's costumes. Curtis could hear you sputtering to yourself. “I’m never gonna survive him, how am I supposed to respond? ‘Yes Curtis, eat me up’ Oh god Y/N.” 

Curtis laughed softly to himself, calling out. “What are you doing Honey?” 

“THE THING CURTIS. THE DRAMA THING.” Came your distressed tone and he decided to give you a moment's reprieve, escaping to the garage, a bit smug with himself for getting you flustered. He was definitely going to have to see how willing you would be to let him use the honey on you. 

At his workbench, he settled down to pull his papers closer while looking over the repair plans on the Camaro that he still had to do, including the cost of getting these parts either online or by some sheer luck at one of the few junkyards in the area. They all had his number on file, but it wasn't often a vintage Camaro came through that he could salvage parts from. He might get the call a few times in the summer typically. 

His pet project had been something he worked on since a teenager with his grandfather and as much as he hated that it's taken this long to finish, he knew that Wilford would have been proud. Sometimes he swore he felt him in here, puffing away at one of the cigars that he enjoyed once in a while, the hint of smoke coming up to tickle his senses. 

Even now Curtis didn’t feel quite alone in the garage, it wasn't a bad feeling, but comforting. Like knowing you were just on the other side of the garage door in the living room working on your costumes while sipping the hot tea you just made. It made him feel almost complete for the first time in a long while. His grandparents did what they could when he was suddenly an orphan, but he always felt a little out of place. Maybe because they had already raised their children, and yet Curtis came to them going from a happy carefree child to one who didn’t understand why the world would be so cruel. 

It was a rocky few years for him to accept. Losing someone scared him all that much more now. Why he never had a serious relationship with someone, until now. 

His mind drifted as he twiddled his pencil on the spreadsheet, thinking about what this meant for him. It had been so easy to just let you into these private parts of his life. He didn’t even think twice about bringing you to his home or letting you know the stories of his life. Everyone before, well, he always kept that door shut to them, rarely bringing women here to his home. He’d certainly never had any of them meet his cousin or her daughter, including them in things like holidays. Now look at him, Christmas was around the corner trying to figure out how to include you and already he had celebrated one holiday he never expected to again because it meant so much to you. Then there was Thanksgiving where you had embraced his friends who are essentially his family. 

And you were such a softness in his hard life, it was one of his favorite things. Every time he got to be in the same room as you, you just made it better. Getting to touch you or hold you, you just fit so well with him, and hated letting you go. Curtis wasn't afraid that his size ever intimidated you, you seemed eager for him every time. The times you closed up on him, letting past insecurities get in the way, you struggled to meet him on the other side, willing to go halfway and work on what was going on. He didn’t have the whole story yet, but he was determined to continue showing you that he loved every inch of you that you would let him. 

The man was certainly falling hard for you. You made it feel like he was home. 

While he was contemplating exactly how much of an impact you'd already made in his life in the short time you had been in it, his phone buzzed in his pocket, bringing him out of his thoughts. Giving it a glance, he noticed a text from Edgar inviting the two of you to Paulie’s for a game night. Curtis pushed up from his workbench to wander into the house.

“Y/N?” He called out, poking his head into the living room to see you curled up in an easy chair, the costume stretched across your lap as you pinned lace along a collar to sew on. You flashed him a look, wary about what he had to say. 

“Coming to get me all flustered again Curtis?” 

He grinned at the earlier teasing, wiggling his brows. “Just wait Honey, I’m gonna bring it up when you least expect it. No this is an invite from Edgar, wanted to know if we wanted to go over this evening to have a few beers and a few games?” 

You glanced at your phone to look at the time. “Sure, that sounds good. Catch a light dinner at the diner next door or I can reheat that stew?” 

“Let's grab some dinner out, and treat ourselves this weekend.” Curtis said and you moved to get up, straightening the costume out to press it against yourself for Curtis to check out. 

“What do you think? Do I look dashing in this?” You swayed a bit to make the bottom of the dress sway a bit, over exaggerating batting your lashes at Curtis. He tilted his head with a smirk. 

“My my my, what a lovely ankle you have my lady, how scandalous for you to show off in such a way.” He made grabby hands at you, making you squeal in a laugh as you dodged him, swatting at him to get away from you. “Makes me feel all… worked up inside.” 

“What a way for a gentleman to woo a lady.” You scoffed as you went to your sewing machine and promptly sat down, sticking your tongue out at him. 

“Who ever said I was a gentleman?” He informed you before turning to his phone to answer Edgar. 

Later you two went out again and went to the same burger joint that he had taken you to on your first date out in the field, this time the winter chill drove you two to eat in the little restaurant. You two once more picked at each others fries, Curtis still claiming he didn’t like the sweet potato fries but was more than happy to steal some for himself. 

By the time you two left to make your way to Paulie’s, it was dark and the bar was starting to get busier. You bundled inside out of the cold to shake the snow off your jacket before Curtis took them, loping them over his arm. “You see Edgar?” He asked while looking in the regular area they hung out at near the dart boards, but no one from there regular group could be seen.

“Paulie, where’s Edgar?” Curtis asked when you two reached the bar and Paulie hooked his thumb over his shoulder. 

“Back, beyond the storage room.” 

Taking your hand, Curtis led you around the bar and through the swaying door to bypass through the kitchen that was busier then you thought it was going to be. He greeted a few people in passing before leading you two through another door, and then through one more that was in a storage extension with concrete flooring and swaying overhead lights. “Edgar?” Curtis called out and at the other end was a ‘over here’ from the man of the hour. 

Approaching the spot where you two had heard Edgar, there was a table with a scattering of food and drinks, Grey and Claude balanced on some bar stools. Another table with what looked like various hatchets and Edgar stood at a white painted line, aiming for what looked like an over sized bullseye. “What all this?” Curtis set your jackets among a pile of the others. 

You wandered over to where Claude was, giving her a hopeful questioning look that earned you a wink to confirm your suspicions. Her and Grey were indeed on a date. 

“Told you Paul wanted to set this up. He is giving us first crack at it to see if it's a good time.” Edgar stated as he heaved the hatchet to spin through the air before hitting the wooden bullseye. Far off the mark, but the weapon didn't bounce off. “Better than I was doing.” 

“Let me try.” Claude bounced off her barstool with a brush of her hands to clear them of crumbs. Grey took an interest in what she was doing, trailing along behind her. “Help me throw?” She asked him and the man was more than eager to. Curtis came up alongside of you with a brush of his hand against your back, looking at the setup with interest. 

“I didn’t think he was going to do it inside.” 

Edgar came up to the table now that Grey and Claude were at the throwing line. “Nah, he is thinking this summer out back.” He reached for a nacho and scooped an extra topping on it. 

“This indoor one is only for the regulars to come use he said. You know… We could do a tournament this summer.” 

“What are we going to call ourselves this time?” 

“Hmmm, Freight Yard Pounders?” Edgar threw out there and Curtis busted into a laugh, his hand tightening on your waist as he slapped his chest, head thrown back in a real genuine hard laugh. 

“You can call yourselves the Tail Enders. Knocking out all the competition on the way to the top.” You offered while watching the others take their turn. “And I want on the team if you make one.” 

Edgar looked shocked and Curtis didn’t seem too surprised as he helped himself to some of the snacks. 

“You do? I mean, of course! The more the better.” 

“Sure. You’ve seen me play darts, I’m pretty good at getting close to the bullseye. Once I get the hang of this, I’m sure I can kick ass.” You winked at the guys as you went to the table, checking out the hatchets, trying to find one that felt right for you. Curtis smirked to himself while watching you, saying loud enough for Edgar to hear him. 

“Fuck she is hot.” He grabbed a beer and took a swig. “Okay, I wanna throw, come on you two.” He motioned for Grey and Claude to hurry up while joining you at the table. Curtis ended up choosing a large heavy set, with short handles but a good size head that added weight to it. Yours was far more slender and looked like it would move fast when given a toss. Claude and Grey cleared out of the area, most of the hatchets they threw were littered on the board, a few scattered around the base. You set yours down near your feet, plucking up that first one and dropping your hand till about halfway down. “What do you think?” You questioned Curtis. 

He chose to move in close behind you, knocking your feet a bit wider with a tap of his boot and sliding his hands up your arms, looking over your shoulder at the target. 

“I think this is a good position. Put some real power into that throw, use your upper body to give some swing momentum.” He instructed before stepping back.

You took his tips to heart, lifting the hatchet up higher, when you swung it, you put your whole upper body into it, pushing hard in your throw till that thing went whizzing through the air and landed with a thunk close to Edgar’s, closer to the first inside ring of the bullseye. It wobbled a bit, seeming it was going to fall, but it didn't and you gave a cheering fist pump in the air. Curtis grinned next to you, checking it out. “Fucking hell Honey, good first throw.” 

“It’s gonna take some time to build up the upper arm strength, but I’m pleased. Alright, let’s see what you got.” You stepped aside so he could position himself. 

Curtis always went into this frame of mind where he got quiet, very concentrated. Even now you saw him zone out everything around him as if it was just him and the target. His features went from laid back and joking with everyone to serious. His brow furrowed and mouth thinned as he gripped the wooden handle, shifting his hands where it would give his throw the most power. Under his flannel shirt, you could see the way his biceps bunched in preparation and his forearms flexed with power as he lifted the heavier hatchet up, and then with a grunt, he swung it to fly through the air and landed with a heavy thud, the hatchets head half buried in the soft pine wood. 

You gave an audible aroused gasp at the show of power and immediately felt your body heat up, your thighs tightening and your hands twisting in your sweater to keep from rubbing against your suddenly overheated sensitive body. Butterflies exploded in the lower part of your belly. 

This might be worse than the gray sweatpants for you and you knew that you were screwed at how turned on this one display of power had you. Curtis took one look at you with your blown pupils and hooked a forefinger under your chin and dragged the pad of his thumb against your suddenly quivering lip. “Breathe Honey.” He whispered to you, chuckling deeply when you took a drag of air in your aching lungs and tilted his head to press his lips to yours. You melted into it, completely lost in the moment. “Fuck you’re always so sweet, Y/N.” 

“Hey, you two taking more throws, or are you going to move so the rest of us can go?” Edgar whined and Curtis flipped him off while you tossed your arms around Curtis’s neck to give him one real lip-smacking kiss, not caring that there was an audience hooting and cheering for the display of affection that you never would have dared to give before.

#life is short so make it sweet #curtis x reader #curtis x you #curtis everett x you #curtis everett x reader #curtis everett x plus sized reader #curtis reader and plus sized reader #curtis everett and honey #curtis everett x honey #curtis everett au #curtis everett fanfiction #snowpiercer au #chris evans characters #amber writes #sweater writes

[aritamargarita]

GOLDEN || 006

you thought it was attitude but ITS GOLDEN

trying to make up for being so behind. really been enjoying these chapters. we are pulling all the grandpas and dilfs yes we are. MALEWIFING THEM ONE AT A TIME. AND WE CANT FORGET ABOUT THE LADIESSSSS!!!! HEY LADIES!!!!HEY LADIES!!!!!!! consider this chapter a bit of a timeskip, we’re goin to the intergender match yes yes. it’s not gonna be what you think y’all have to listen to the plan. i have to put the pieces in place….

scrambling events here the way i would like them to go, so this is like at the end of the year, it’s november / december 1997,,,,idk. it’s a vibe im hungry as fuck. splitting the chapters because well? yeah. i have things that happen post match

sorry triple h for cropping you out but it’s chyna foreva and always..im just one of her sassy shootas!!!

YOU ARE VERY happy you have something to do tonight. You’re thrilled, even. All you want to do is showcase your wrestling skill. But things don’t always go the way you want it to..

BACKSTAGE // 7:01 PM

After Shawn told you about the upcoming intergender match last show, you decided to go head to the hotel for the night and rest up. You also make a mental note to issue an apology for Bret for not showing up…

But this was pretty important. It’s the week of Christmas, so you’re sure that the company has a lot of plans for the holiday..

You’re in DX’s dressing room, sitting on the floor and doing stretches. You had a reputation among your peers in previous companies for turning up to the events early. They didn’t know whether to envy it or love it. You’re always ready to go.

The door opening startled you from the floor, Chyna being the first to walk in with two duffel bags. She doesn’t greet you at first, but you watch as she sets her things down.

“Hi!” You chime.

And at the sound of your voice, she jumps too. You don’t think she noticed you at first. “Hey. You scared me.”

“You scared me too.” You smile, standing up. “What’s up?”

“Nothing in particular.” She responds. “You’re here early.”

“Oh, I always get here early. I like to be ready, you know?” You start to feel nervous in her presence, which you’re already hitting yourself mentally for. Somehow, you feel like you be trying to impress her. “You’re here early.”

Immediately, the tone in her voice changes into irritation. “Hunter was taking too long. I left without him. Shawn’s probably going to get him now.”

“You snooze, you lose.” You say, completely understanding. Truth be told, it kinda reminded you of Raven. Sometimes, you’d travel with him by car. Stevie would tag along at times too, but you’d much rather just ride with him alone if Raven’s gonna take forever.

Raven would come out 10 minutes late and it would mess with your schedule. He started doing a little better after you chewed him out about it, but the principal…

Just was you considered leaving him in the dust, he’d come outside, suitcase and all. There’s a tiny part of you that misses traveling with them, but, yeesh.

There was a moment you got fed up once and for all. Seeing some girl hastily leave his hotel room really upset you for some reason. You’re not exactly ready to explore why, but it really pissed you off.

You didn’t even care, you just left. Unfortunately, you fell right back into the trap of talking to him when he cornered you during an ECW show to ask what’s the deal….

Now’s not the time to mull over these things, you’re still talking to Chyna.

“Hey, why don’t we travel together next show? I’ll drive!” You offer. “That way we can get here on time and do what we need to do.”

“Fine with me.” It’d probably be better for the both of you, especially since you offered to drive. Chyna just hopes you’re a better driver than Shawn. She’ll never ride with him in a vehicle again.

The last time the three of them rode together, Hunter had been egging Shawn on the entire time, telling him to zig zag through the cars “if he’s not scared”. With the Heartbreak Kid being the show off he is, he did.

Never. Again. They’re lucky they didn’t crash.

“I heard we had an intergender match.” You continue on. You won’t let this conversation end so easily. “Is it me and you…?”

Chyna shakes her head. “No. It’s you and Hunter versus Shawn and I. They wanted to experiment and switch us up.”

Boo…

At least Hunter seemed nice, despite the fact he threw wads of paper at your head the other day. Nothing’s wrong with him at all. In fact, you’ve been meaning to ask him how he keeps up with his hair. It’s so nice.

However, you really wanted to work with Chyna, not against her. Even though you had ring gear, you would’ve changed it if it meant you could match with her.

“Aw man. I wanted to partner with you!” You complain. “We would’ve had so much fun.”

There’s a ghost of a smile on her face, but as soon as you look at her, it goes away. “It would’ve been nice to be partners. But it’s just not happening. Don’t expect me to go easy on you, [Name].”

You give her a thumbs up. “I wouldn’t want you to!” It goes silent for a minute, so you return to the ground to stretch a bit more.

“I have something for you.” Chyna suddenly speaks up, making you look towards her. “Here, take this.” She tosses a rolled up shirt in your direction.

You unroll it, revealing a black shirt that says ‘Chyna Syndrome’. Woah.

“I hope you don’t think it’s selfish or anything. It’s just that Hunter and Shawn are wearing it tonight…” She trails off. You don’t even care if it was selfish or not. She just gave you a gift!

“Not at all, thanks! I’m definitely wearing it tonight.” This has gotta be your new favorite shirt. You’d cut it into a crop top, but you don’t want to ruin it. You may settle for tying it. “I really like this.”

“Good to hear.”

“You, uh, wanna go shopping before the next Raw?” You ask. “I’ve got a really good eye, I think we can find something you’d like!”

Chyna’s never been shopping. Well, she has, but not with another girl in the company. “Sure.”

Yet again, the door opens. Neither of you look up. You’re too distracted with your shirt and Chyna’s sorting through her belongings.

“Ohhh! Look at our lovely ladies congregating!” Shawn loudly says, tossing his bag to the side to come over to you. You’ve started to associate obnoxiously loud noises with him. “Raw’s never looked so good!”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the smile that appears on your face.

“C’mon, do a little twirl for me!” He’s a little too spontaneous. Is this how he always acts? You don’t mind though..

You give him your hand and he immediately spins you around.

“What a sight for sore eyes! You know, that Sergeant Slaughter guy’s been a real pain in the ass. Ever since they let him be Commissioner…”

You really start to tune him out after a while. Hunter’s over there getting his stuff together, and your eyes trail over to him as he walks over to Chyna. He looks frazzled, but you hear him chuckling soon after.

Good, he doesn’t seem too angry. Even if he did, you’d definitely defend Chyna quickly.

“…..And he knows I’m the champion! He’s putting my title on the line, can you believe that?! So you know what we’re gonna do? We’re gonna mess up the match. We’re gonna do it our own way. [Name], I need you to lay down for me.”

Him saying that immediately caught you off guard, looking at him in confusion. “You want me to what?”

You had no clue he was champion. The first time you met him, he wasn’t carrying his belt around.

“I want Chyna and I to win. It’s the least you could do, you know, since she’s letting you win the Miss Slammy awards…”

That was two bombs at once. Goddamn.

“Miss Slammy?” You repeat.

For some reason, you notice Chyna turn away in the corner of your eye. Is she embarrassed? Shawn comments on it. “Hey! Don’t get all shy now. You offered. You see, [Name],” He slings an arm around your waist.

“—there’s this thing called the Slammy’s coming up. Big formal event, it’s like the Emmy’s.” He explains.

“It’s like the Emmy’s??” You question. A wrestling event like the Emmy’s, huh? You feel like you’ve heard of something like that before. The only banquet event you’ve been to lately was Terry Funk’s Lifetime Achievement Banquet. You gave a speech and everything.

“Yup. You know, I’ve heard you’ve got nominated. Don’t tell anyone else, I just heard that down the grapevine.”

The grapevine?

You’re surprised. It’s one thing to be nominated, but another thing because you literally just got hired. “Are you serious? Don’t mess with me.”

“Yup. We were thinking about rigging the votes. Chyna, being the sweetheart she is, said she’d rather you get the win.” He grins.

That really is sweet of her. You’re already turning around to tell her ‘thank you’ one more time.

It’s not fair to the other nominees, whoever they are. You shake your head. “I’d rather win it myself fair and square. You know me and Hunter won’t go easy on you.”

Shawn can only scoff at your words. “That’s boring. You’re really gonna let Marlena win over you? Now personally, if that was me…?”

Marlena’s nominated too?

Well, now you absolutely had to win! You quickly interrupt him. “Um, no way. For sure, I think I’ll be Miss Slammy, but I told you I want to do it the fair way.”

“If you say so. Oh shit, I almost forgot. Listen, [Name], What I really wanted to ask you was…..”

Chyna and Hunter both look over at him curiously, but Shawn shakes his head and waves his hand at you dismissively. “Nevermind.”

“Shouldn’t you be talking with Chyna?” Hunter makes his way over to you two. “That’s my tag team partner now.”

“I’m not worried, Trips.” He says. “Me and Chyna are gonna win, even if [Name] won’t lay down for me.”

“I’m not going to lie.” You speak up, causing everyone to look at you. “I kinda wanted to be in Chyna’s corner. Really bad.”

“Unfortunately, you’re not!” Hunter cuts in, a shit eating grin on his face. “You’re with me. Aren’t you happy??”

You hesitate for a minute to respond. You’re a-ok with teaming with Hunter, but you like how he’s starting to get all sour about it. “Ehh…..”

He’s not too happy with your answer. “That’s not fair. You know, we’re gonna have to bond sometime, new girl..”

Chyna holds her hand up to her mouth, hiding her snicker. With the idiocy bouncing between Shawn and Hunter, you may be her only saving grace.

After that fiasco, you headed out to check out the card for the night. It should’ve been on the wall somewhere. Just before you could study it, one of the staff members called you over.

Before he started speaking to you, he holds down his earpiece. Someone must’ve been talking to him at the same time. He eventually looks up at you. “Evening. I’ve got some papers from Creative for you. You can look through them...”

“Okay. Thanks.” You nod, taking the papers from his hands.

Great, more papers. You thought what Rick Rude put you through was hell, you just hope you don’t have to sign anything else right now.

“Vince McMahon wants to speak with you as well. He’s in the meeting room next to the catering area.”

Oh fuck. The boss wants to speak with you too?? You hope you didn’t do anything wrong yet..

You’re already panicking as you turn away quickly and make your way to the meeting room. It’s strange he wants to see you there instead of the office.

You don’t know why you’re so nervous. You’ve dealt with Bischoff and Heyman. There’s no reason why you couldn’t deal with Vince McMahon.

In your defense, it was a new playground. You haven’t gotten a feel for the work environment or for your coworkers.

The people you’ve met so far have been pretty okay though. Things were off to a nice start, so you’re not entirely worried on that front.

As soon as you got there, you remember to take a breath with your hand on the handle.

Once you swing it open, you already start to feel pretty awkward as all eyes fall on you. There’s only one familiar face in the room and it’s Sable, who looked incredibly bored until you walked in.

“Good evening.” Vince says. “Please take a seat.”

The only open seat there is was one across from Sable. How convenient! This definitely was a set up. You don’t say anything as you quietly take a seat. You don’t forget to wave at Sable.

She just blankly stares at you. You wonder if she’s not in a good mood…

Vince begins this meeting with formally greeting the both of you. “Good evening, ladies. I’m sure you’re both wondering why I’ve called you here.”

You and Sable definitely are. This’ll be interesting.

“In the next couple of weeks, at least by the beginning of the new year, we’d like to put you and Sable into a program. [Name], you will be the heel, Sable, you will be the face.”

First of all, this is the wrong blonde you wanted to be in a storyline with. Marlena’s the one who you had to get revenge on, not Sable. She didn’t even do anything.

Did he get the two mixed up?

No, there’s no way. When you’re the boss, you should be able to tell your own superstars apart. There’s a vast difference when it comes to Marlena and Sable.

You point it out. “What about Marlena? I thought we had a thing going on there.”

“It’ll happen eventually.” Vince reassured. “Just not right now. We want Sable to enter the picture, we’ve got plans to split her up from Marc Mero—“

“Wait, you’re splitting us up?” She’s surprised herself, turning her head over to Vince. “…I’m going solo?” You were sure she wasn’t expecting that either. “I don’t know anything about wrestling.”

“Now’s the time to learn.” Vince says, shuffling papers. “Two of my up and coming female stars, going head to head. This is where the dough is made. This, is what’ll get us some views.”

The way he said it made you a little uneasy. He was almost on the verge of laughter. Something’s definitely not right in his head.

You’re not exactly sure what to do. You’re conflicted, especially since he was mumbling on and on about the amount of money he’d be making. Damn old men these days.

It makes you idly look at the table for a moment. You’re not bored per-say, just concerned. Okay, perhaps just a little scared too.

Sable seems to mirror you, although the frown on her face is more noticeable. It’s silent in the room, save for the occasional chatter you’d hear outside the door.

It’s starting to make you uneasy, so you speak up. “I’m gonna be a heel, huh?”

Vince snaps out of his rant and looks towards you. “Yes. Just be prepared to be booed. The people aren’t going to like you. They’re gonna like Sable. She’ll be over.”

Great! You’re putting her over. You just hope she doesn’t get injured by the end of this, though if she says she doesn’t know how to wrestle, you hope that YOU don’t get injured by the end of this.

“I don’t want to take any bumps.” She says outright, crossing her arms. “Especially hard ones.”

You don’t know how this’ll work then. She doesn’t have a choice. “There’s just no way around it, you know? I’ll go easy on you, okay?”

It didn’t make her feel any better. Sable shakes her head. “No. I don’t want to.”

You turn your attention to her. “…If we have to work together, you’re taking a bump. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

She snaps at you. “Who are you to tell me what I have to do?”

“Someone who’s putting you over, and I don’t HAVE to do that.” You can keep up with her. Something you’ve learned being in the business was to never take shit from anybody. Though, it may have been the result of Terry instilling a lot of courage into you.

Sable stands up from her chair. “I can get over just fine by myself! I don’t need you. Remember where you came from, some company no one even knows about.”

She jabs a finger in your face, but you swipe it away. “Oh yeah, I remember where I came from. And I’m about to use this table and fucking—“

Vince stands up too, clenching his fists. “THIS IS WHAT WE NEED!” He yells, damn near startling the both of you.

…….

He clears his throat, regaining composure. “If you have this much energy in the ring, both of you would be winners. You two need to calm it down immediately. This meeting is adjourned.”

Most of the people in the room leave, frazzled by you and Sable’s bickering.

Sable doesn’t forget to give you a glare before she leaves. You’re stiffing the hell out of her when the time comes.

You’re just about to leave too, probably to storm off and complain to the first person you see. Vince stops you just in time.

“[Name], I’d like you to meet someone,” He says. One of the members stayed behind it seems. Your mood is starting to sour, which doesn’t bode well for anyone in the future. However, you do your best to keep up a front for the boss.

Vince grunts something and motions with his head toward you. The younger man examines you, but at Vince’s movements, seems to take the hint and reaches out his hand for you to shake. “I’m Shane.” He introduced. “His son and the co-owner of the company.”

Interesting! You could see the resemblance as soon as you saw them side by side. Incredibly uncanny. Being face to face with both of your superiors felt strange.

“Hey.” You take his hand and shake it. “[Name], but you probably already know that. Really sorry for my outburst earlier.”

He chuckles. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to mind too much. “It’s fine. Just shows how serious you take the business.”

Vince looks between you two.

For some reason, he can feel the connection already. This will be documented for future reasons, of course. Alas, you’ve got something to do. “[Name], I’m glad you’ve came to this meeting today. Don’t disappoint on your match tonight. I will be watching.”

You’ll try your best.

BACKSTAGE // 7:24 PM

Before you had gone to gorilla, Hunter quickly ran you through how things would go. It’s a simple match. Nothing too fancy. He just requested you to do stupid shit every once in a while.

He had forgotten his water bottle, so he ran back to the locker room really quick. You stand there, using a rubber band to tie part of it into a knot. You have your gear on under it, but you’ve gotta represent.

So true, you indeed have Chyna Syndrome.

“Wow, I can’t believe you’re actually going to wear it..” Chyna’s voice comes as a surprise to you, making you turn around with another smile.

“With pride!” You pose, just as if she was holding a camera. “By the way, are we all coming out separate with our partners or all together?”

“Me first, then Shawn, then you two.” She says. “Don’t forget to put your game face on. Me and you are first to go at it in the ring. The other two take over after.”

Okay, this wasn’t too bad. Shawn wanted all of you to mess with this Sergeant Slaughter guy and you knew Chyna wasn’t going to go easy on you, but there’s gotta be a way to goof around with her in the meanwhile…

Hunter comes back with his water bottle in hand. “Shawn’s not here yet?” He looks around, completely confused.

Chyna just shrugs. “No. I’m not exactly sure what he’s doing.”

“Oooh, we win by default. Hunter, let’s hold the championship together.” You say.

“I’ve got an even better idea.” He says. “You’re gonna lift your shirt up and…” He trails off, glancing over at Chyna. He does not want her to beat him up for saying that to you. “…put the title belt on.”

“Just for me? Sweet.” It flew over your head this time. “I’m not opposed for sure.”

Chyna just shakes her head. Just in time, Shawn comes around with his belt in tow, a smile on his face. His gear was pretty gaudy, with a vest and some….what the hell is he even wearing…? It looks like you could unzip part of the pants, but even so, this shit looks like a fashion disaster.

“You guys ready to wrestle?”

Of course you were.

Chyna and Shawn are first out, just as she said. Then it was you and Hunter. You hadn’t ‘officially’ been given theme music quite yet, so they just allowed you to come out with Hunter to DX’s theme until decided.

All of you settle into the ring. You and Chyna were first up.

You’re ready, unable to fight the smile on your face. Chyna on the other hand, was as doing her best to be stoic as ever. You understood it though, she had to be.

Chyna comes towards you and you immediately fall down to the ground.

The crowd gets a good laugh out of it. You’re “knocked out” cold and she didn’t even hit you. Hell, she didn’t even touch you!

She stares down at you, then grabs your leg to drag you around the canvas a bit. You’re still not moving. She then tries to pin you, but you kick out.

You stand up and shoot her a smile. She can only roll her eyes at you, another smile playing at the corner of her lips. You’ll try and be serious now. The two of you lock up, but Chyna breaks it up and irish whips you into one of the corners.

You try to sell it as hard as you can, but it backfired on you completely. That shit really hurt! For a second, you keel over, your back absolutely killing you.

Using the ropes for some leverage, you jump up and hook your legs around her neck for a rope-aided hurricanrana. That’s one move!

Once you hit the ground, you try and exaggerate. (It still hurt though.) “Ow, ow!” You whine, putting a hand on your back. “OOOOOWWWW!” You try whining a little louder, rolling around.

Shawn’s eager to get himself tagged in, holding his hand out for a slowly recovering Chyna.

She sees it and reluctantly tags him in. She wanted to go a little longer with you, but she couldn’t deny him. He’s chipper as hell.

You use the ropes to stand up, then stagger over to him. The two of you were face to face in the ring.

He can only give you a grin. “Remember when I said you have to lay down for me?”

“Uh, yeah?”

Nothing could prepare you for what he was going to do next. He immediately tackling you down like a football player. “I meant it!” When he gets you down to the ground, the referee had started to count it as a pin.

“OW! What the fuck!” You exclaim.

If he wants to play dirty, then so be it! You don’t even let the referee hit two, you kick out immediately.

“Woahhh! You kicked out!” He was taunting you. As you try to get up, he starts to push you down, grabbing your arms to try and stop you from swiping at him. “Watch the hair!”

You’re getting a little frustrated at how he’s holding you down, so you’re doing your best to get the hell out of it. He’s having a bit of a hard time controlling you.

The crowd is enjoying this very much. Whatever you guys are doing, it’s working in your favor!

Shawn’s decently impressed, you’re much stronger than he thought! Well, of course he thought you were strong, you had twisted his arm in the hallway pretty hard.

Normally, girls would just turn into putty under him, especially if they were play fighting like this.

“Hey, HEY, HEY—“ His voice slightly rises in volume as you start to push him off of you with your legs. He doesn’t let go of your arms, trying to overpower your own attempts of moving away.

It’s not doing him any justice. You’re able to flip over him and roll off. That was incredibly embarrassing. In the middle of the ring, no less.

You jump up to your feet and he does too. What’s next?

You take a few steps back and so does he. Then you take a few steps forward. He does too. Is he copying you?!

You hold you arm up and he follows. Yeah, he definitely was copying you. You slowly lower it and flip him off. He returns the favor. Goddamn it.

You’re not for the bullshit, you’re just not. You back away and tag Hunter in. He hits your hand and you switch places.

Shawn doesn’t tag Chyna in, instead deciding to jump in place. You have a feeling that it’s going to go downhill from here.

Both of them pull on the ropes a bit, warming the ring up. They’re acting like the match is just beginning.

Once they’re all finally all geared up, the two of them lock up…and Hunter quickly throws Shawn right onto the mat. He just lays there.

It was a little too easy, definitely done on purpose. Maybe he was even mocking you a little bit.

Hunter bounces off the ring ropes and just as you think he’s about to do something, he just runs and bounces off, jumping over Shawn every so often.

You can’t help but to laugh. Hunter flops right on top of Shawn and pins him with no issue. Congratulations, you two won! He’s the new champion! …Of whatever the hell the theme was, you guess.

“Your new European Champion, Hunter Hearst Helmsley!”

European champion? Ah, very nice.

Shawn’s in the middle of the ring having a temper tantrum. He slams his hands and balled up fists onto the mat. Once he comes up, you see him crying crocodile tears.

Poor thing. He runs over to Chyna for some comfort, the woman fighting a laugh as hard as she could.

Hunter’s brought to tears of joy, crawling around and throwing his arms up. He crawls over to you and hugs your waist. You pat his back.

The referee hands over the title to you and you slightly drape it over his back, trying to catch his attention. He lets go of you and rises to his feet, taking it away from you and holding it up to the crowd.

“You know…” Shawn, now equipped with a mic, can barely get his words out without dry-heaving. “It’s—it’s—“ He pauses for a minute, choking over his tears. Boohoo!

There’s a man at the front of the stage watching all this chaos go down. Now that you take a look around, this arena is a little different than the usual.

Hunter throws his arm around you for support like he just wrestled a very hard match. Shawn’s still sobbing. He takes a minute to pull it together.

“It’s not easy being defeated for the European tiiittleeee…I’ve been in so many matches…I’ve been in ladder matches, I’ve been in cell matches, I’ve been in marathon matches, but, oh god—never has any match been so….emotionally, physically, and mentally draining as this one..”

Shawn continues wordvomiting something else something akin to “youtwowonfarandsquareaauughhh” but then hands over the mic to Hunter.

“I’d just like to say one thing. Other than my kid being born….I don’t have one, that I know of—,” He pauses, definitely letting that sink in. “This is the greatest moment of my life!! YOU ALL SAW IT! I DID ITTTT!!” He yells.

Hunter doesn’t forget to shout you out. “AND [NAME], MY BEAUTIFUL PARTNER, THAT NONE OF YOU PEOPLE IN THE CROWD WILL NEVER GET THE CHANCE TO BE AROUND! THANK YOU!! Oh god, thank you!”

You feel like this match kinda sucks….

Seems like things were back to normal. Hunter tosses the mic somewhere after coming in for a hug and Shawn starts doing crotch chops. The latter grabs the mic again. “I know ya’ didn’t need any help from us Sarge, but we made an ass outta you anyway! MERRY CHRISTMAS!”

Even with Christmas being just days away, you don’t exactly feel in the spirit….

the night is not over. I REPEAT THE NIGHT IS NOT OVER. yes the match was short and stupid. yes we’re complaining about it next chapter (so are some fans…) DO NOT WORRY,,

mickie actually does the rope-aided hurricanrana, it’s pretty cool, though i just think mickie herself is pretty cool :). im actually gonna make a gif move set list to reference or something like that i dunno.

you know, golden seems much more “mature” than attitude idk maybe it’s just me. that was a fun match to write,,sometimes my worst enemy can be writing too much in one paragraph grrr. anyway i hope you guys enjoyed i liked this kinda sorta. until next time

do you guys remember when dx “invaded” wcw? lol thought it would be funny if reader was there like damn.

#scream if you want it #THE RIZZBREAK KID!! #WHY ARE WE BEEFIN WITH BLONDIES #wwe golden series #shawn michaels x reader #shawn michaels imagine #chyna x reader #chyna imagine #triple h x reader #triple h imagine #wwe imagines #wwe imagine #wwe x reader #wwf x reader #wwf imagine #heard people saying that the chyna syndrome shirt is bad #I don’t really give a fuck IM STILL TRYNA FIND THAT SHIRT. TILL THIS DAY. #IK SOMEBODY GOTTA SELL IT GRRRR

[fostercare-expat]

I’m feeling particularly anxious right now about having Fearless live with me during the week next year. It’s already so much work with the current foster situation, and I was looking forward to getting some down time after that ends in early December. Well, I immediately leave on a 2 week holiday with the kids and my former husband so that won’t be relaxing at all. But then I was excited about just leading a normal life, and getting to spend some non-kid time with my amazing boyfriend. (This man deserves a medal with how willing he is to put up with my insane parenting lifestyle, which he’s a guy who has never wanted kids, but is actually so great with them all. And not only is he great but he has a car which means he spends his Saturdays just driving us all around from here to there. Ok, enough bragging about him, but he honestly deserves it.)

I think one thing that could help me feel less anxious is not drinking a giant coffee an hour ago, because that’s probably 50% of the current emotions. The other thing is speaking with Fearless’ current counselor and the social work agency connected to him, and understanding if they are going to help with getting Fearless a school transfer to a new school half way between his current house and my house. Because otherwise it is a 1 hour commute on public transport each way, and given that part of the reason that Fearless is moving in with me is because he needs greater supervision and structure, and having him alone on public transport 2 hours a day doesn’t seem like a great idea. Unfortunately he can’t go to school with my younger daughter as she is in an all girls school, and anyways any school we would pick near by house would then be a 45 minute commute from his mom’s house. He needs to spend 2 more years at this school and I’m not planning to have him live with me for 2 years, I hope. So we need something reachable from both locations.

The other thing that would help is that I need the agency to commit to weekly therapy for Fearless. I’ve realised that in the 1 month since one of his big behavioural outbursts, his counsellor hasn’t met with him at all. His mom has texted with the counsellor but that’s it. That not working for the high level of needs for this kid. His mom maintains the communication with the counsellor so I’m not in the loop. But clearly we need a higher level of commitment. If we are going to turn this boy around, we need to go full steam ahead on support.

Ok, ranting over for now. Going to drink some calming tea and actually do some real work, like the kind they pay me for.

[beanieman]

Idk if you have already made this but how do you think the YTTD cast spend their Christmas? (does anyone spend it alone, commits dumb stuff or just enjoying a cake with a family)

Idk if this is a good time to ask about that since December is still far, but you could answer it later so ig it wouldn't matter :D

Time is an illusion and I'll post holiday headcanon's anytime.

Sara Chidouin - Sara and her parents have gone ice skating every Christmas since she was little. It's a tradition for sure, but Sara's made a new one in the last few years and that's meeting with Joe and Ryoko in the afternoon to hang out.

Joe Tazuna - Joe volunteer's for Christmas. He visits the local dog shelter, helps the elderly carry the groceries into their house, and goes door to door for charity.

Gin Ibushi - Gin and his family usually watch Christmas movies all day after opening gifts in the morning. They have a very lowkey Christmas but a fun one!

Keiji Shinogi - Keiji goes to see his Mom. The have a small dinner but they spend the most of the day talking about...everything. Keiji's childhood, what they're up to these days, and what tv shows they like to watch. It's always a great day.

Alice Yabusame - Alice listens to Christmas music all day. He doesn't do much else to celebrate, but he really enjoys the songs echoing around his walls.

Reko Yabusame - Reko and a few of her bandmates go caroling! They use it almost as promotion for their band, as most people really like Reko's voice. However, even if they don't check out her band Reko just likes to sing.

Nao Egokoro - A town next to Nao's does a tree lighting ceremony. She always goes to watch because she loves the aesthetic and the feeling of togetherness.

Kazumi Mishima - Mishima usually makes crafts that make him smile, such as cut out snowflake papers, a homemade wreath, and snow globes. He leaves them out until February long after everyone is begging him to take them down.

Q-taro Burgerberg - Q-Taro turns up at the orphanage with a Santa outfit. He's their Kris Kringle for the day and even brings them some gifts.

Kai Satou - Kai makes a nice gingerbread house to display in the Chidouin home. The best one he ever made in his opinion was an exact replica of their home.

Kanna Kizuchi - After opening gifts in the morning Kanna and Kugie go to their local park and play on the swings. They talk about life and joke about silly things that make them laugh. Overall, Kanna just spends her day wit her sister.

Shin Tsukimi - Shin is always sent a ton of gifts by his parents. They spoil him to a large degree, but Shin enjoys having more things to go in his apartment. After opening all their gifts he makes a nice homemade pot of soup as a gift to himself.

Dolls

Ranmaru Kageyama - He has a very average Christmas. Some of his family comes over, some he likes, and some he doesn't, and they all have a big meal. Afterwards everyone leaves and he listens to Christmas music for a bit before bed.

Naomichi Kurumada - Naomichi hangs out at the local ski resort on Christmas. Just because it's the holidays doesn't mean he doesn't find extreme joy in sports.

Anzu Kinashi - It's a tradition in Anzu's family to play board game for Christmas. They usually end with someone rage quitting Monopoly but it's so much fun before that.

Mai Tsurugi - Mai makes Christmas cookies of all kinds! Sugar cookies, chocolate chip, gingerbread, and oatmeal.

Shunsuke Hayasaka - Shunsuke just goes into work. He drives around looking at the decorations later, but other then that he's not a big holiday guy.

Hinako Mishuku - Hinako just takes the opportunity to drink eights cups of hot chocolate without judgment.

#asks #YTTD #Your Turn To Die #sara chidouin #Joe Tazuna #Keiji Shinogi #Kanna Kizuchi #q taro burgerberg #Shin Tsukimi #Reko Yabusame #nao egokoro #Gin Ibushi #Kazumi Mishima #Alice Yabusame #Kai Satou #ranmaru kageyama #naomichi kurumada #ANzu Kinashi #Mai Tsurugi #shunsuke hayasaka #hinako mishuku

[ask-the-good-creeps]

Vigilante Pasta AU Timeline

PART THREE

2002

FEBRUARY: Jonathan's father becomes aware of his son's volunteer activities. He bullies and belittles him, accusing him of being gay like his brother (but in much more hurtful terms). Nothing Jonathan says can change his mind, and his father ends up having him kicked out and shunned completely by the whole family.

JULY: Ben's little sister Rosie is abducted from their front yard. Ben is distraught and upset, but after a week his alcoholic father goes around the house removing all photographs of Rosie and items belonging to her. He stores all these items in a chest in the attic, and Ben is upset that he's decided to pretend she didn't exist like he seems to do with their deceased mother. Ben learned to hate his father that day, and that hate only grew as his sister's abduction became a cold case that the police no longer focused on.

NOVEMBER: The snow starts early in Dina's town, and she is drawn to it; she marvels at its grace and purity as it falls from the sky and find herself disgusted with how dirty and tainted it becomes when it settles on the Earth. Dina has started to show symptoms of bipolar disorder and claims to have been chosen by the sword hanging in her father's study that she is forbidden to touch. The white sword, pure and graceful like the snow before it reaches the ground. An angel's sword.

2003

MARCH: Helen's hair is long again, and he has hardly spoken since he was punished for cutting it. He can't keep a journal, because it isn't safe. The only way he is able to express himself is through art, with heavy symbolism to convey his emotions to protect them from the ridicule and scorn of his parents. He managed to convince his parents to allow him to wear a painter's uniform, with pants, to avoid staining his dresses with paint. They agreed only on the condition that the uniform is light pink.

JUNE: Nathan and his twin are abducted and trafficked. They plan a daring escape which Crys does not survive, and Nathan loses all control after she passes. He gets ahold of a rusty old pipe in the warehouse where they had been hiding, and he kills the traffickers that had attempted to come after them one by one before fleeing the scene. He is delusional and believes Crys is still by his side, often conversing with her as he travels.

DECEMBER: On the 23rd of the month, Lacy's birthday, her cruel mother leaves her locked outside in the snowy yard as a punishment. Lacy succumbs to hypothermia and dies long before dawn. Her vengeful spirit sticks around as a ghoul, and her first target is her abusive parent whom she eats alive.

2004

FEBRUARY: Hobo Heart believes the girl he's obsessed with is his soulmate and that she feels the same for him. In reality, she is afraid of him and what he may do if she tells him to leave her alone. She has been civil him only because she feels it is the only way to keep herself safe, as nobody would believe her about his existence. Hobo Heart has become aware of the human holiday 'Valentine's Day', and decides to give the girl his actual heart as a Valentine. So long as the heart is not harmed, he doesn't need it to stay within his chest to survive. The girl is understandably horrified by this offering and knocks his hands away, which causes the heart to fall into the dirt and be pierced by sharp twigs. In her terror, she tells him that she already has a boyfriend and finally works up the courage to demand he leave her be. With his heart now unusable and emotionally pained, he becomes angry and tears hers out of her chest to replace it. He has no medical supplies and uses her hair to stitch his chest shut, though over time he comes to realize that human hearts cannot sustain his life force for more than a few weeks. So begins his ritual of removing the hearts of humans he sees as betrayers, deserving of death.

APRIL: After Natalie told her parents and started locking the teen out each night, he became even more cruel and vindictive toward her. The trial he was meant to take part in kept getting delayed and rescheduled for various reasons, which had unfortunately extended his stay with the Oulettes. He still wanted to get back at Natalie, and decided to do it by slipping a psychotropic poison into her cocoa one evening while she wasn't paying attention. The poison pushed her into a psychotic episode, during which she beat the boy to death with a baseball bat and stabbed her parents with a kitchen knife when they tried to restrain her. She saw the blood on her face from those she killed in a hallway mirror, and it led her to think her jaw was starting to fall off so she put the stitches in to hold it in place. She wasn't dosed with enough of the poison to kill her, but still felt horribly ill when she woke the next morning. She still can't remember how or why the face and mechanisms of her grandfather's pocket watch ended up in her eye socket, or why that didn't kill her.

JUNE: Ben has become more withdrawn and antisocial as the months went by, and now often rejects reality to instead lose himself in video games – especially ones where he can defeat the bad guy, save the princess, and be a hero. His father forcibly drags him outside to 'spend some time together', but Ben is far from interested. After he insults the drunk, his father throws him in the river where they were fishing and hold him under until he stops breathing. Ben somehow manages to come back as a ghoul, and his first target is his father. Now that he's beat the bad guy, he begins his search for his sister so he can save her and be her hero.

DECEMBER: Kagekao's mother passes, and he decides to go into the world of humans – partially for vengeance against those like the desecrators of the sacred mountain where he grew up, and partially because he had no reason to stay there. An old family friend who visited to pay respects gives Kagekao an enchanted mask to wear, black on one side and white on the other, that would change with his emotions and hide his nature temporarily from those who would harm him for it.

2005

MARCH: Jeff has taken to hunting human traffickers and slaughtering them. On one such mission, he finds not just human victims to free, but also a starving and scarred mutt in a wire kennel that was also abused by his now-dead target. Jeff can relate to the poor dog and begins to pet it, reassuring it that its abuser is gone and can't hurt it anymore. The dog dies in his arms due to its horrid condition, and Jeff gives it a proper burial. Later, he hears something stalking him through the wilderness, and turns to find the ghost of that dog following him around. He names the dog Smile due to their shared facial scars, and they become fast friends.

MAY: Toby is involved in a car crash which ends with his sister Lyra dying. Lyra had been the best older sister anyone could ask for; she served as Toby's friend, therapist, tutor, protector, and more while their mother was too busy and their father was lost in his alcohol. The trauma of losing her causes the medications Toby is on to lose their efficacy, and he withdraws into a numb and paranoid state with very little focus on reality. With everything that's happening, his mother is unable to focus on helping him and Toby begins to slip away.

JUNE: On the 18th of the month, Lazari is born to a mother who was so desperate for a child that she made a deal with Zalgo. Her family are strictly religious, and though they are unaware of demonic involvement in Lazari's birth they frown upon her mother conceiving her with a stranger out of wedlock. Lazari and her mother are forced into a religious cult for reformation, and her mother is brainwashed as a result. Her mother eventually begins to worry about her being a monster and regrets the way she was conceived.

JULY: Nathan has continued to wander while drifting in and out of reality. At one point a slimy predator tries to take him under the guise of helping him with temporary food and shelter, and Nathan goes berserk for the second time and beats him to death. The hallucination of his sister convinces him that this is what he needs to do to protect her and others like her – vigilante justice.

AUGUST: Vinny has started to lose himself and develop a split personality called “Dollmaker”. At one point he sees his reflection in a mirror and the fancy clothes and makeup he's forced to wear cannot stop him from seeing himself as hideous. He mourns the loss of innocence and beauty in his own face.

2006

MARCH: After extensive procedures and physical therapy, Jane has recovered from her burns medically. She takes to wearing a mask and wig, as well as soft black dresses that help her feel elegant and not ugly. She wants Jeff dead for what he did to her and her family and begins her search for him.

JUNE: BEN has had poor luck in locating his missing sister and has heard through the grapevine about Jeff and the latter's reputation for skillfully hunting down traffickers. BEN enlists Jeff's assistance in his search and together they find his sister's killer and her remains. BEN cremates his sister and scatters her ashes over their maternal grandparents' now-deserted farm, and from there he starts to visit and befriend Jeff.

AUGUST: Toby has hardly been eating or sleeping and has been mostly ignored by his parents. Alone in his room, he's become delusional and has begun having episodes where he completely separates from reality much more frequently. He ends up killing his abusive father and setting a large fire on his street to escape police. As he wanders through the wilderness with two hatchets he swiped from the garage of his old home on his way out, he encounters the Slenderman, who decides to take him in as a new proxy after reviewing his memories.

2007

JANUARY: Lazari, still a toddler, begins to show small signs of being inhuman. Her mother tries to hide these signs from others in the cult due to her own shame of having giving birth to a Zalgoid, but others notice and convince her that she will be forgiven if she joins the cult in imprisoning the little demon and beating the evil out of her. Lazari's mother accepts, and Lazari is chained in a cold, windowless room. Nobody interacts with the poor toddler save for the man who comes in to hit her with a cane if she cries.

JULY: After foolishly trying to solve the mysteries behind the Slenderman mythos, Tim and Brian (who had become fast friends in high school and had been taking film courses together in college) end up suffering from 'Slender Sickness' as a result of getting too close to the eldritch entity. Slenderman decides to turn them full proxy, partially to use them toward his new goals of helping humanity by terminating ill-doers, and partially to have other people for young Toby to interact with regularly. They lose all memory of who they were previously and begin going by the aliases 'Masky' and 'Hoodie'.

SEPTEMBER: Toby informs Masky and Hoodie about the existence of the other Slenders. They don't believe him at first, until they meet Trenderman for themselves.

OCTOBER: The man who had abducted and abused Katelynn has been identified by police, and he takes her and flees into the woods to escape the law. He enters the Slenderman's territory and given the circumstances, he becomes a target. Slenderman attempts to start his 8 pages game with the man, but he refuses to play it and keeps dragging Katelynn along. Slenderman tires of him and tries to take just the man to his dimension; he ends up bringing both the man and his victim. Slenderman tears the man apart and returns Katelynn to the mortal world, and she has become strangely attached to the faceless being after watching him tear apart her tormentor. He can see she will not be able to function well in society due to her trauma and offers to have her stay in the cabin with his proxies. Upon seeing said proxies and realizing they are male humans, Katelynn runs away and takes shelter in an abandoned mineshaft. When Slenderman finds her there, she requests that he play the 8 pages game with her. Slenderman is confused by this, but allows it. Kate becomes the first person to collect all 8 pages and throughout the experience psychologically hardens herself and forgets her fears. She decides to live in the mine shaft instead of the cabin still, due to her personal preference.

NOVEMBER: Dina manages to pick the lock on her father's study and sneak in. She attempts to take the sword down from the wall but is caught when her father returns unexpectedly. He hits her and scolds her for being in her while denouncing her as a pitiful demon that shouldn't have been allowed to be born. She rages at him and threatens his life, and he has her locked up in her room in a strait jacket.

#ask the good creeps #creepypasta #Judge angels #Dina #Kate The Chaser #slenderman #ticci toby #Masky #hoodie #TRENDERMAN #lazari #BEN DROWNED #jeff the killer #jane the killer #the dollmaker #nathan the nobody #smile dog #kagekao #clockwork #hobo heart #lacy morgan #bloody painter #puppeteer

[a-smile-dat-spreads-like-buttah]

Aforementioned Mental Health Post

Hey, guys. Sorry. I have been struggling alot lately and haven't known what to do or where to go, I guess. My anxiety has been getting steadily worse, and in December my psychiatrist changed my adhd meds because she (very reasonably, really) thought the meds might be the cause, but it's been about a month now, and things are still getting worse. And on top of that, there has been so much shit happening that I can't keep up with the general anxiety, let alone all the other stuff.

Just to kinda explain the complexity, I guess, here's a little list: (under the read more; tw for family stress, mention of death, gun violence, domestic abuse, suicide, murder, alcoholism... please read cautiously and at your own risk)

-massive ongoing conflict at home leading up to Christmas. I had basically no time off and if I didn't do the Christmas decorating, nobody was going to. I was drowning, but I wasn't doing enough. I will say, tidiness is hard when I'm on a good adhd med, so it had gone berserk, but it was worse because I was drowning and I had no time off. Christmas is one of my actual favorite holidays, and I got tired of it and wanted it over with.

-My sister found out a best friend of hers died while we were hanging out one day. I was at a loss because it's my family job to fix things and she was so heartbroken, obviously, and I couldn't help or do anything. Then she found out that this friend was shot, and either was murdered by her abusive fiancee or comitted suicide.

-The above then caused my mom to relive the trauma of losing HER best friend in a car wreck before we were born. She drinks alot already, but started drinking more, and tries to help by talking about her experiences, which makes things feel like a suffering contest, but my sister is already drowning in her own feelings, so I've been trying to support my sister, but also my mom so she'll stop making things harder for my sister.

-My boss wasn't posting schedules like he's supposed to, and then we find out that WHOOPS BOSS HAS BEEN FORCIBLY EJECTED FROM THE STORE so we now have the fourth new boss that we've had in the one year seven months that I've been here. And old boss' last day was a couple days before New Year's, so it was INSANE.

-I've been struggling with gender, still, and trying to figure things out, especially as I look into going into theatre, where I'm still not sure I have a chance.

-I'm misgendered constantly at work, and if I'm at work, I'm already panicky and overwhelmed but I can't talk to anybody about it. And when I do, they say "oh you only have x amount of time left, then it will be over", but it's never over. It doesn't stop unless I'm asleep.

-At least three of my favorite coworkers (and very good friends) have said that they are considering leaving, ajd one of them, bless her, mentioned dropping evrrything and moving across the country. (I know she has to do what she has to do and all I want is for her to be safe and happy, but I'm so tired of losing friends.)

-And I'm sure there's more, but my break is over. I don't know who to talk to. I DO have a wonderful therapist and a psychiatrist, with whom I have an appointment Monday. I don't feel comfortable (or safe) talking with my parents about things. My sister is drowning in her own problems 45 minutes away and I'm worried as hell about her. And I just feel like I'm bothering everyone.

But I promise I'm trying. And I will keep trying. I'm not going anywhere or anything. But that's what's been going on. Sorry for the length of the post.

#general tw #see tw above cut #personal trauma #ooc:out of crutchies

[humansun]

Written December 14th, 2022 at 12:26AM

Hi. I love being alone and the time I get to myself gives me an asston of energy. I think my mood is frustration on the fact that I have had no solid stool in the past twelve hours and that I haven’t had a chance to be by myself.

The time I have to myself means I get to take a moment to stop time and focus on my existence. It means I can meditate, write, and read. Reading is such a great way to get away, because I’m clearly invested in something and it gives me an excuse to not talk to anyone while entertaining and educating myself on a story.

What I’ve been thinking about today is a fear of not being able to change into the person I want to be. I feel as though the problems I’ve navigating today are problems that I’ve come across in my life before, and it scares me that I am not able to overcome them or address them more productively than in the past.

The truth is though, I don’t think it’s true. I know I am changing for the better and I’ll continue to get better because there are moments in my life where I witness the change and feel gratitude for it. Without meditating each day, it takes effort to recognize my existence and genuinely live in the moment. It’s difficult to, but I am absolutely trying.

Another weird feeling I’m grappling with is my fear that I am not a good creator or artist. That the writing I make does not contribute anything but the same lessons to the world. Just because I’m interested in something it might not mean I am good at it. It scares me because I witness how hard my sister works to make her dreams happen with the amount of talent she has and worry that I will never be as great as her. I’m afraid of not being as brave.

Even the little script I wrote feels like a failure project and that tiny writing piece is already bringing so much disappointment to my life. I think what’s important I hold on to though is that reminder from Benny. The reminder that it is my first short film script and although it’s trash and no one might see it nor like it, that I can still keep writing. I still have 75+ years to write anything I want whether anyone sees it or not and enjoy the craft for myself.

This creative journey is not a race and I shall not treat it as one. The creative journey is forever a process. One that will be vulnerable and difficult. I will not learn it in 3 months while in Vietnam. I will learn it over time and grow more ideas with each experience of my life. I can’t wait to see what’s in store and I’m so grateful to be the growing person I am. I am committed to being the best person I can be.

P.S. We watched Home Alone today and slept most of the day. I love Vietnam so much, and I love Da Nang with my whole heart.

Written December 14th, 2022 at 12:38AM

Here are some last thoughts of the day:

I feel so grateful to have the people I do in my life. I’m happy that they are the people they are as well. For example, Phoebe and all the wisdom and love she brings into my life. I think she and I fit together really well as friends because she is also a words of affirmation goddess. I’m grateful for my family in Vietnam as well, because they all have hearts of gold. They’ll do anything for their family. No matter who it is, I feel so lucky.

FLO is my most recent obsession. They’re just, everything and I love them all so much.

Water is delicious and we should all drink it as often as we can if we are afforded that privilege.

I don’t want to leave for the holidays ever again.

At the end of the day, I love being with Benny.

I’m learning a lot about family history. OMG! We were watching Vietnamese music videos today and so many of them had gay love triangles that gave me life. One of them was based on a historical account with Queen Nam Phuong. I read her whole Wikipedia page and thought she was such an awesome person in history that I wish I knew about earlier. Vietnamese history whether about family or the nation is super interesting.

[intheseautumnhands]

F, G and M for the fanfic ask meme! 🥰

F: Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

“I would also like to continue your therapy sessions,” he continues, so casually that it takes Abigail a second to register what he’s saying.

“Why?” she asks, too sharply, and takes a deep breath, making herself sound calmer when she goes on. “I mean, you weren’t my doctor before or anything. Wouldn’t it be weird for you to take over when I’m… well.” [...]

“It’s unconventional,” Hannibal says, “but as a psychiatrist, I believe you have been through too much to expect you to deal with it on your own. It may even be that I can help you more than your previous doctors. You have no need to keep secrets from me about what you have done. You can speak openly for the first time.”

The idea is as terrifying as it is comforting, and Abigail looks away, fiddling with the edges of her sleeves and fixing her eyes on the trees that blur by. “Maybe I don’t need to talk about it.”

“Talking about the past is often the best path to healing from it.”

(each morning new, each day shot through)

The way it was in my head while writing this, the load-bearing part of this very short missing scene was the discussion between Hannibal and Abigail, even if Abigail’s introspection took up more words, and I’m pretty happy with how it came out. I feel like Hannibal pushes  in a way that reads sinister knowing what’s coming, but in a way that Abigail can miss, and that suits the relationship, especially at this point in time. I also like the more playful part before this -- I can very distinctly hear the two of them doing the “I already know how to cook.”/”Not the way that I cook.” in my head, probably more than anything else -- but this was the part I was a little wary about either going over or under in showing how Hannibal controls things between them, and I feel like it landed pretty well.

G: Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order?

Almost always start to finish! I will very rarely put in a placeholder to come back to, but generally speaking I go straight through. I kind of mean to try not because then if I get stuck, I just stall completely, but I find it hard to skip around for more than jotting down a future line or two.

(The biggest exception I can think of is the Hadestown soulmate fic, which follows two timelines, where I wrote most of the “past” sections and then most of the “present” sections. So chronologically, but not start to finish as published. XD)

M: Got any premises on the back burner that you’d care to share?

I have several lists worth of premises I want to write. XD And most of the stuff I’m currently working on I’ve talked about before (or is exchange fic and I can’t).

Hmm, let’s see -- despite the fact that it’s going to be entirely canon-divergent to S2, let alone S3, watching TUA again has given me new inspiration to start the Luther/Five AU sequel, so there’s that? It’s gonna be Luther post-leaving reconnecting with each of his siblings, navigating living with and having a relationship with Five, and discovering who he is away from the academy. I may try to write and post it for Solstice/winter holidays, since the original is a December challenge fic. XD

( fanfic ask game )

#a new trail every time #by grace and grit

[ppersonna]

my only wish - knj | m

“ santa can you hear me? i have been so good this year. and all i want is one thing. please tell me my true love is here ” - my only wish (this year), britney spears

✹ summary- There are few things you hate most in this world. Hornets, unnecessary fruit pieces in otherwise perfectly good jello, certain shades of orange… But nothing takes the cake more than two simple things. Christmas. And Kim Namjoon. So why did you agree to pretend to be Kim Namjoon’s girlfriend at his family Christmas party? Bah-Humbug.

✹ rating- explicit/18+/nsfw

✹ pairing- kim namjoon x reader

✹ word count- 15.1k OOF

✹ genre- smut, fluff, tiny tiny angst if you squint, enemies to lovers, fake dating au, idiots to lovers, brief mention of YoonMin

✹ warnings- penetrative sex, unprotected sex (dont do it), daddy kink lolol, namjoon has a big dick, oral sex (m/f receiving), cum swallowing, light cum play, dirty talk, light degradation (very light tbh), praise kink, lots of mentions of joon being a beefy boy, masturbation,

✹ a/n- its here!! finally! my contribution to rockin around the christmas tropes. big big big shout out to @ladyartemesia​ @xjoonchildx​ @untaemedqueen​ @underthejoon​ @yeojaa​ @snackhobi​ for being my co collaborators. and a warm shout out to @wwilloww​ and @hobi-gif​ for being some very lovely betas. thank you thank you! i hope you enjoy!

There are few things you hate most in this world. 

 Hornets, unnecessary fruit pieces in otherwise perfectly good jello, certain shades of orange…

 But nothing takes the cake more than two simple things: 

 Christmas. 

 And Kim Namjoon. 

Christmas, in your opinion, is nothing more than a consumerist holiday, anchored on ensuring you’re guilted enough from November 1st to the 25th of December to spend your hard earned money on shit your friends and loved ones won’t even use. It’s a time for people to pretend they love giving and caring, while shoving you out of lines in stores, buying up all the groceries as if it’s the end times, and forcing party after mindless party for “celebration” that ends in seeing your boss drunk and pants-less by the punchbowl. 

 And don’t even start on Kim Namjoon. 

 On paper, he’s your colleague, to put the terms friendly. In reality, he’s your opponent, your adversary. He’s annoying, rude, stuck up, and not to mention a douchebag heartbreaker. He’s everything you hate wrapped in one disgustingly handsome face. 

 The man never misses a chance to steal a case from underneath your nose, rub the praise he receives from your bosses in your face, and look ridiculously delectable in his tight suits that he insists he wears around the office. He absolutely infuriates you. 

 And now, as you sit in the company-wide meeting, your heart sinks as you realize the worst thing about Namjoon—he’s about to get the promotion you’ve been vying for your entire career.

 That position was as good as yours—at least, you had thought.

 That was until lead counsel, Seokjin, stands in front of all the attorneys present and calls out Namjoon’s name, commending him on winning his latest case—the case that you had done the bulk of the work for. Seokjin even tells the rest of the lawyers in the room that Namjoon is “someone to watch” with a glint of pride in his eyes. 

 The smug smile Namjoon sends in your direction as he teasingly nibbles on a pen with his sultry mouth is enough to make you want to tear his eyes out and use them as olives in the martini you sorely needed.

 Namjoon smirks as he walks past you once the meeting ends.

 “Make sure you watch me, baby,” he whispers into your ear. 

 His hand rests on your lower back and you hate how much he aggravates you, and hate even more so that he frustrates you sexually as much as he does intellectually.

 Unfortunately, your body can’t keep up with your mind’s distaste for the elder lawyer. His presence around you makes your blood vessels tighten and your head feel light—nipples prickling against your bra when he winks at you.

 “Asshole,” you whisper under your breath as you pack up your notebook.

 “Oh, ___!” Seokjin calls out just as you’re about to leave the all-glass meeting room.

 Your head suddenly screeches to a very frustrated, sexual halt when you turn to face the lead counsel of your company.

 “Yes, Mr. Kim?”

 “I’ve got a case for you.”

 The smile on his face makes you relax. Maybe he sees your potential. Maybe he’s testing you just as much as he’s testing Namjoon. Maybe you’ll be the “one to watch” and you can rub that right in Namjoon’s perfect, stunning face.

 A thick manila folder slides across the oak table towards you from Seokjin’s hands. The impressive volume of the dossier makes you giddy with anticipation.

 “I know you won’t let me down.”

 You nod, nibbling at your lips, before bowing to your superior and dashing out of the room as fast as your Louboutins can handle.

 It’s not until you sit at your desk, a cramped little cubicle next to Park Jimin, your best friend and paralegal assistant, that you open the folder.

 Your heart sinks as your eyes hurriedly rush over the title page.

 Personal Injury Suit.

 A dejected sigh leaves you as you throw the folder onto your desk and slouch back in your ergonomic office chair.

 “What’s up, pussycat?” Jimin smiles as he rolls his chair over to your side of the cubicle. “Namjoon got you worked up again?”

 You groan as you take off your reading glasses, setting them aside to rub at the burgeoning headache building at your temples. You had momentarily forgotten all about Namjoon in the hurried hope that you’d land a case of significance, something you could finally use to prove yourself.

 Instead, you gained yet another in-and-out, settle outside of court case. Likely some elderly geriatric suing a corporation for too-slippery floors.

 “Another fucking personal injury suit,” you whine as you thrust the folder into the lithe paralegal’s hands.

 He looks over the documents and sucks his teeth.

 “Man, Seokjin really has it out for you.”

 You level a look at your best friend, before nodding and holding your head in your hands.

 “Namjoon is getting all the good cases! He gets the media attention, the litigation deals, everything! It’s like I’m not even given a chance to show what kind of lawyer I can be when I’m stuck with all the nursing home and car accident suits!”

 Jimin bows dutifully, nodding his head as you express your woes.

 “I can do more than just personal injury litigation… and Seokjin knows that! It’s just that Namjoon keeps getting all the air-time!”

 “I know, babe. I know.”

 With one last sigh of disbelief, you take the folder out of Jimin’s hands and sit upright at your desk.

 “Well, I guess if I’m going to be a personal injury lawyer, I’m going to be the best fucking one yet. Let’s get to work.”

 “Yeah! Fighting!” Jimin cheers.

  Namjoon sighs as he listens to his mother blabber on and on through his phone. He leans back in his chair and surveys the wide expanse of his corner office.

 Seokjin gave him this space, an upgrade from the desolate cubicles when he won his last big case, Kim Taehyung, artist v. the city of New York. He can’t help but smirk as he glimpses you from his window, pouring over a case file. He notes the curve of your back in the silk blouse you’re wearing and the way it tucks into your pencil skirt. He wishes he could see the outline of your ass and watch as it sways back and forth when you walk.

 “I just don’t understand why you can’t ever bring anyone home for the holidays!”

 His mother breaks him from his silent reverie of detailing every aspect of your backside.

 “You know your grandmother will not be alive much longer! And all she wants is her only grandson to be happy and in love! And a few grandchildren won’t hurt!”

 “I am her grandchild, Mom.”

 She’s silent for a moment.

 “Well, I wouldn’t mind some grandchildren either.”

 He groans again and presses his fingers to his forehead, a headache bubbling up behind his eyes.

 “Don’t you act like that, young man! You have a big empty house, big car, big life, and no one to share it with. I just want you to be happy.”

 She continues on and Namjoon can’t help but let her words sink in.

 He has it all. Expensive luxury apartment, enormous bed, gorgeous kitchen, money to spend on traveling and enjoying life. Yet he spends most of his time here, stuck in his office. He’s utterly alone, regardless of how many social guests he tries to entertain, horrid dates he attempts to go on. He’s always left alone, and he feels it deep at the very bottom of his heart—the loneliness and desire for a companion.

 “Mom! Mom!” He interrupts her diatribe on the futility of his adult life. “Stop!”

 “Namjoon, I’m just conce-”

 “I’ll bring home my girlfriend for the holidays, okay?”

There’s a stunned silence on the other end.

 “A girlfriend?” she asks, tentatively. “Really?”

 “Yeah,” he breathes, wincing already at the lie he’s spoon-feeding his poor mother—all in the name of getting her off his back. “She’s kind of shy, so I didn’t want to tell you about her yet, but now seems like the best time. I’m... I’m even thinking of proposing.”

 The words come out of Namjoon’s mouth before he can stop them. His mom bursts into screams of delight, and he can tell she’s running to his beloved grandmother to tell her the news.

 “Oh, Namjoon! This is all we’ve ever wanted for you. I’m so proud of you! I can’t wait to meet her! Oh, goodness, I can’t want to tell your father. Goodbye, son! I’ll see you two soon!”

 She hangs up before Namjoon has a chance to even breathe.

 “Fuck.”

 He drops his phone to his wooden desk and grimaces. 

 How the hell is he going to find a fiance in the next 3 days before the holiday break? 

 There’s Jennie, his ex.

 He thinks about it for a moment, before quickly dismissing it. No, much too clingy and possessive. She’d take it to be real, and he’d be stuck with her.

 His last hookup, Jihoo?

 No, too aloof. His mom would never buy that they were a love-sick couple on the brink of engagement.

 A crash outside his office startles Namjoon, making him stand and exit the large corner suite.

 The commotion is coming from your cubicle, where he can see you’re struggling to use the decrepit computer. The crash must have been from you slamming the keyboard to the desk, causing the individual keys to pop off the board.

 “Shit! Jimin, help me put this keyboard back together!” 

 You shimmy out of your chair and onto your knees, an excellent sight for Namjoon if he wasn’t so concerned about your well-being.

 The paralegal is standing above you, watching as you kneel to gather the pieces of the obliterated keyboard.

 “Oh no, honey. It’s against my personal constitution to be on my knees unless it’s for a handsome man.”

 “God, Jimin, come on.”

 “Hey, it’s not my fault you hulk-smashed the life out of that poor keyboard.”

 Namjoon smirks, turning back into his office and sliding into his desk. He easily opens his MacBook and emails Yoongi in IT, requesting a brand new computer for your desk—no holds barred. He wants the top of the line for you.

 He suddenly has just the person in mind to be his fake fiancée. 

  A brand new, gorgeous computer is at your desk the next day you arrive.  You nearly spill your hot peppermint mocha when you see the sleek machine atop your old plastic desk instead of the broken clunker that was there the day before.

 “What the hell?” You ask Jimin as you set your coffee down gently as if any movement might scare the new computer away. “Did you order this?”

 “I love you, but I would never order you something this nice.” 

 You can’t help but roll your eyes as you sit down to marvel at the modern machinery. At least Jimin is honest.

 “Maybe I’ll call Yoongi and ask him where it came from,” you wonder aloud, hand hovering over your phone.

 “YOONGI?” Jimin screeches, eyes suddenly wide and crazed.

 “Yeah? The IT guy?”

 “I know who Yoongi is, you dumbass! Here, let me call him! I’m your assistant!”

 He scrambles to grab the phone out of your hand.

 “You literally refuse to do anything I ask.”

 Jimin smiles cherubically, completely ignoring your confusion. He’s suddenly the picture of a model employee.

 “Don’t you worry! I’ll be right on it!”

 He hops from your desk with your cell phone gripped tight, and saunters away to a secluded area out of your eyesight.

 “What the fuck is going on today?” You ask out loud, settling into your chair and unloading your bag of files.

 “How's the new computer?”

 The sudden intruder makes you jump, nearly spilling your coffee, yet again.

 “Fuck!” You shriek as you attempt to right yourself and the dangerously hot liquid sloshing in the paper cup. “You scared me!”

 The chuckle that comes from behind you makes your stomach flip. You know that laugh. You could recognize that laugh a hundred miles away, in a hurricane, with headphones on.

 That laugh is the sultry demon himself, Kim Namjoon.

 “I—How did you know about my computer?”

 Namjoon takes a knee, bringing his face to your level in your chair. He’s close to you, so dangerously close. You can smell the Giorgio Armani cologne applied to his pressure points—the heat of his skin warming the scent and mingling with his own subtleties. Your eyes nearly roll back in your head. He smells so comforting—like a home you never knew you were missing until he arrived.  

 “I saw it when I walked in this morning.” 

 He breaks you from your daydreaming of warm, firm hands caressing your body and you’re thrown headfirst back into reality—the reality where you can’t stand the man mere inches from you.

 You push back from where you are and stand, eager to get away from Namjoon’s sudden interest in close proximity. He smirks and rises from his spot, pocketing his hands in his tight cream suit.

 “Care to join me in my office for some coffee?” He asks.

 His office. The one he scored after he won the Kim Taehyung case. The bitter betrayal still lingers in your mouth. 

 For the longest time, you had been equal in every sense; both living in the dingy cubicles with the computers long-destined for retirement. Then, Seokjin awarded him with the corner office, the one with the view of the entire city. You’d never forgiven either of them.

 “I have my own coffee.”

 Namjoon smirks as he eyes your paper cup, clearly a quick grab from the 7-Eleven around the corner.

 “Looks fancy.”

 You purse your lips and clutch your coffee even closer.

 “Please,” he asks again. “I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

 Namjoon’s face loses its snark, and you’re curious about what could cause the man to become so serious.

 “Fine.”

 You motion with your arm towards his office, encouraging him to walk ahead. He smirks again, ah—there’s that smirk, before he turns and heads into the gorgeous corner room.

 He lingers by the door as you enter, waiting until you’ve crossed the threshold to close the door behind you. It surprises you. Something about being in a closed room with Namjoon sets you on edge. You can nearly imagine the man bending you over that fine oak desk, hiking your skirt up and spanking your ass until it’s red.

 “Coffee?” He asks as he moves towards the in-office espresso machine.

 “Are you fucking kidding me? You have a Nespresso in your office?” 

 All desperate and wanton thoughts of Namjoon sliding into you leave once you see the stainless steel contraption in the room's corner. Of course he has a $500 coffee machine in his office. He has everything you want.

 “You like it?” His question is cocky. He already knows the answer.

 “Fuck off.”

 Namjoon grins and turns the machine on, pulling out two mugs while you sip your now lukewarm coffee. It suddenly tastes disgusting.

 “So, what’s the deal, Namjoon?” You ask as he rests against the wall and waits for the coffee to brew. “You said it was important.”

 Namjoon nods, a more reserved look taking the place of his usual cocky grin on his face. His gaze turns down to his shiny dress shoes.

 “I need a favor.”

 “No.” Your answer is quick.

 Namjoon looks up at you in surprise.

 “You haven’t even heard it yet!”

 “Yeah, well…,” you huff. “I’m not interested in helping you.”

 Namjoon leaves his post by his elaborate coffee maker, forgetting about the piping-hot liquid drizzling into white mugs, as he stands in front of you. There’s that fucking cologne again. Why does he have to smell so good?

 “You’ve got to help me. Please.”

 His sudden closeness to you sets your brain off—your steely resolve begins to crumble.

 “Fine, I’ll bite. What is it?”

 His face lights up again. God, he has such a handsome mouth.

 “I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend for my family Christmas party.”

 If you hadn’t had such a good grip on the convenience store cup of coffee, it’d surely drop from your clutch and splatter on the expensive carpet of Namjoon’s office.

 Your eyes widen, and your mouth falls agape.

 “You—You what?!”

 Namjoon sighs and lowers his voice.

 “Look, I…” he struggles. “I told my mom I have a girlfriend, so she’d get off my back about it.”

 “And why am I suddenly your best option for that?!” 

 You step away from the man, determined to clear your mind as the scenario weaves its way through your head. 

 Namjoon’s girlfriend. He wants you to be his girlfriend.

 Well, his fake girlfriend.

 He would hold your hand. He would kiss you. He would touch your body in ways you convince yourself you don’t think of often. 

 “You’re the only girl I know who’s got a good enough poker face to go along with it. And honestly… you’re the only girl I really know well enough.”

 His last admission shocks you. Namjoon seems like the womanizing type—one to bring a different girl home every night.

 “That doesn’t explain why the fuck I would want to help you.”

 Namjoon steps back and moves towards the coffee machine again.

 “If you help me, I’ll take all your shitty cases that Jin is giving you.”

 Your eyes narrow at the tall man. It seems too good to be true.

 “How d'you know about them?”

 Namjoon shrugs and grabs a mug full of freshly brewed expensive coffee.

 “I can hear you complain to Jimin about it every day.”

 You grumble under your breath, sucking on your teeth as you try to process the terms of Namjoon’s deal.

 “So you want me to be your fake girlfriend for your family…” you muse.

 “Yes,” he agrees. “And I’ll do all your worst cases for the next 2 months. I’ll even give you my next big one. I know you want that.”

 God, he’s right. That’s all you want. A chance to prove yourself to Seokjin, to the company.

 With an aggravated sigh, you relent. 

 “Fine! But it better be a good fucking case. And, I’m using your coffee maker every morning.”

 Namjoon can’t help but chuckle, loving the fire in your voice. 

 “Deal?” He murmurs.

 He holds out his hand to shake on it, and it takes you by surprise how warm and soft his large hands are once you slide your own into his grip.  

 “Deal.”

 Jimin is not going to let you live this one down.

  Jimin doesn’t let you live it down.

 He’s sitting on your couch, legs crossed underneath him as he hoists his wine glass filled to the brim. He holds it away from his body as he shakes with laughter.

 “You’re telling me,” he wheezes. “That you agreed to be Namjoon’s fake Christmas girlfriend? You hate that man!”

 Flopping into the couch beside him, you sigh.

 “Yeah, well, it was my only option. He made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

 “Okay, Godfather,” Jimin snickers. “Lord knows you still want to bone that man, anyway.”

 “Jimin!” You admonish. “I do not! And that wasn’t the deal!”

 He sips at his red wine with an impish smile. You hate it when Jimin looks at you like that, like he can see behind the lie you’ve so carefully crafted of your hatred for Namjoon.

 “Then tell me, what was the deal?”

 You fiddle with the stem of your own wine glass, sighing.

 “He’s offered to take all our shitty personal injury suits for the next two months. And he’s giving me his next big case.”

 Jimin actually looks surprised—as if he didn’t expect Namjoon to provide a deal so worth the cost.

 “Wow,” he breathes.

 You nod in reply, taking a large gulp of the pinot grigio in your glass.

 “You’re still going to fuck him though, I know it,” Jimin adds.

 You splutter your wine from your mouth, hand reaching over to gently slap Jimin on his taut abdomen.

 “Shut up!” You cry.

 Jimin looks proud of himself, sipping his red wine gleefully while he settles further into your couch. Wine nights with Jimin is the highlight of your weeks. Together, you bitch over cases, coworkers, dating struggles, and eat too much cheese and cured meats and nurse a hangover the following day with brunch.

 “Hey,” you say to Jimin as you set your wine down on the coffee table. “Did you ever talk to Yoongi?”

 Jimin’s cheeks immediately turn a shade of rouge.

 “Yoongi? Yoongi who?”

 “Oh my god,” you groan. “Yoongi from IT. You stole my phone to call him today? To ask about my new computer?”

 Jimin swallows a large swig of his wine.

 “Oh. Yes, I did.”

 “And?” You encourage the blonde to answer further.

 “And he’s doing well,” Jimin replies demurely.

 “Jimin!” You huff. “The computer?!”

 Jimin makes an ‘O’ shape with his mouth and bites his lip.

 “I… might have forgotten to ask.”

 Your mouth drops open.

 “You literally stole my phone out of my hands to call him! What did you talk about?!”

 There’s his blush again. The shade of pink on Jimin’s cheeks would be adorable if you weren’t so flabbergasted by his answers.

 “I have a date tomorrow night.” He takes another sip as you let the reply sink in.

 “Oh. My. God.” You gasp, a smile now overtaking your features. “You have a crush on Min Yoongi!”

 Jimin sets his wine glass down next to yours and turns to you.

 “I had no idea if he was into me! But when I called, I totally forgot why I was calling him and we sort of just… started talking and next thing I know, he’s asking me out to dinner tomorrow night.”

 You playfully slap at Jimin’s thigh.

 “You little slut—using my phone to get yourself a date. On company time!”

 Jimin sticks his tongue out at you, before grabbing a pillow and slapping you with the overstuffed cushion.

 “At least I didn’t agree to be his fake girlfriend!”

  It’s the sound of your phone ringing at 7:32 am that wakes you from your spot on the couch, wine glass still clutched in your hand.

 “What the fuck?” You grumble, eyes blearily seeking the offending object disturbing your sleep.

 Jimin grumbles next to you, kicking at your foot as if it will stop the phone from ringing.  

“Stop,” he whines and cuddles into his fetal position. “Turn it ooooff.”

 You locate your cell phone and groan as you recognize the name on the caller ID. Namjoon. What the fuck could he possibly be calling for? And why did he have to call at seven in the goddamn morning? 

 “What do you want?” You snap as you hold the phone to your cheek and throw yourself back onto the couch.

 “Well, good morning to you, sunshine.”

 Namjoon’s voice, as sexy and sultry as it sounds, still aggravates you.

 “Why are you calling me? It’s Saturday. Its seven am.”

 Namjoon chuckles and you fight the shiver that works through your spine at the sound.

 “I tend to keep human hours on the weekend.”

 You can’t hold back the sarcastic guffaw that escapes you.  

 “Okay, Mr. Perfect,” you sigh. “That doesn’t explain calling me.”

 Jimin kicks at your foot again. 

 “Stop talking,” he grumbles.

 God, Jimin is such a diva when he’s hungover.

 “Meet me at the cafe on First Street,” Namjoon says casually. “I’ll tell you when you get here.”

 “Right now?!” You ask, incredulous.

 “I’m literally already here. Hurry before your coffee gets cold.”

 You let out a whine that could rival a 5-year-old’s temper tantrum.

 “Fuck you. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

 There’s no care about your phone when you end the call and throw it to the floor.  Jimin grumbles and rubs at his eyes.

 “Why the fuck are you having phone sex with Namjoon so early in the morning?” He asks.

 “Jimin, I swear to God.”

 He wraps himself in the throw blanket and buries his face back into the couch while you stand and retreat to your bedroom to throw on some semblance of appropriate clothing for the occasion.

 “Fucking Namjoon,” you grumble under your breath as you change into jeans and a sweater. “Fuck him and his stupid, sexy face. And his unbelievable ass. And his stupid, probably enormous penis. Man, I hate him.”

 As you’re re-entering the living room and grabbing your important items (keys, wallet, lip gloss just in-case), Jimin pops his head out of his blanket cave.

 “Where are you going?” He asks, suddenly less annoyed and more pathetic. “You’re leaving me?”

 “I have to go meet Namjoon for coffee. I don’t know why, so don’t ask.”

 “You’re really going to let me suffer here? Alone? With no coffee?”

 You spin around to face your best friend, who’s giving you an absolutely soul-crushing pout and puppy eyes.

 “Yes. Call Yoongi.”

 His precious pout is wiped away, and a devious smirk takes its place.

 “Great idea!” He says as he digs around for his phone. “Be careful out there! It’s icy! Wouldn’t want you to slip and fall on Namjoon’s dick.”

 Your only reply is one singular middle finger in Jimin’s direction as you exit your apartment.

  Namjoon can’t help but smile as he sips his warm coffee. The cafe is warm and bright, despite the chill outside. 

 Things feel peaceful. Tender flakes of snow trickle down outside and frost up the shop’s window. There’s something about this time of year that strikes him down to the core. Something cozy, something warm.

 It’s odd to think this will be his first year not celebrating the holiday alone.

 Even if it is... well, fake. 

 The bell over the door chimes an arrival, and Namjoon can tell by the grumbles and grunts and stomps of snowy boots that it’s you.

 “Over here!” He calls, raising a hand and turning to face you.

 Wow, he thinks. You look gorgeous, even without trying.

 You hurry your way over to the booth and plop yourself on the opposite side, immediately lunging for the obvious mug of coffee waiting for you on the table. You don’t waste a minute gulping the liquid down your throat, then spluttering when you realize it’s still hot.

 “I thought you said it was getting cold!” You cry, airing out your burnt tongue. Namjoon can’t help but imagine that tongue sliding up and down his cock.

 Not now. Wrong time and place to get a boner.

 Namjoon smiles as he sips his cappuccino. 

 “I got you a fresh one.”

 You make a face, but your features soften. As if you’re pleased with the idea that Namjoon cared to freshen up your cup.

 “Oh, well--”, you manage. “Thank you.”

 Namjoon doesn’t reply, but merely tips his head. The silence is thick enough to cut with a knife. Normally, you’re both normally so wound up in aggravating the other that a moment of calm is strange, but not unwelcome.

 “So, why the early morning wake up?” You finally ask, fiddling with the handle of the mug.

 Namjoon settles his cup down.

 “We need to get to know each other. Deep shit, you know. The shit that lovers would know about each other.”

 He notices you, watches as you nibble at your lip. You try hard to hide it behind the mug you lift to your lips, but Namjoon notices. 

 “I’m hoping maybe we could spend the day together,” he adds. “I need to get some Christmas gifts for my family and… well, it’s rather lonely doing it on my own.”

 There’s a slight smile at the ends of your lips.

 “And you needed me at seven thirty in the morning to do that?”

 He stifles a laugh.

 “Like I said, I operate at regular human hours. Even on weekends,” he replies.

 With a dramatic sigh, you agree.

 “Fine,” you say. “I’m an open book. Ask me anything.”

 He watches as you settle into the seat of the booth, hands gripping the warm mug like it’s a personal heater. He notices you’re only wearing jeans and a sweater--no properly warm clothing for the snow storm ahead. He’ll have to fix that, and soon.  

 “What are you doing for Christmas?” He asks.

 You level a look.

 “Spending it pretending to be in love with you.”

 Namjoon can’t help but snort a laugh.

 “I meant after that.”

 You shrug as you settle back into the seat.

 “I don’t like Christmas. I don’t do much other than force Jimin to kiss me under the mistletoe and watch shitty movies with a gallon of boxed wine.”

 “Hmm,” he hums. “You’re sort of a Grinch.”

 A scowl comes over your face.

 “I am not! I just don’t buy into this whole ‘prove how much you love me by buying me things’ shit. It’s a big scheme, I tell you! Capitalist propaganda! They encourage you to spend all your money, and if you don’t, they shame and guilt you by telling you you don’t love your family enough.”

 Namjoon can’t help but laugh as you rant. It’s what makes you such a talented lawyer—your ability to feel a passion so deep within you you’re able to convince a stone-faced jury of your side.

 “Don’t laugh at me!” You cry. “I’m serious! My family doesn’t celebrate, I don’t celebrate. I’d rather just buy gifts for my loved ones when I see something they’d like. Why do we have to put a time of year on it?”

 He shrugs and scooches his mug around the carbonate table.

 “I suppose that makes sense,” he muses. “But you’re still a Grinch. And a Scrooge. You’ll definitely get visited by some Ghosts at midnight.”

 “Ha ha,” you snark sarcastically. “Hilarious, Namjoon. Don’t tell me you’re a big festive guy.”

 “Somewhat. It’s my Mom’s favorite holiday. It’s why she’s so bent out of shape about me having a girlfriend. Something about family and love and shit.”

 You nod, understanding him completely. Your own mother, despite her reservations towards the holiday, still makes a fuss over your single status. There must be some Mom code to obsess over your children’s woeful dating life.

 “Well, I say let’s get on with it then. Ready to hit the shops?” He asks.

 You’re mid-sip of your finally cooled coffee and you send a desperate look to the man in front of you.

“Already?!”

 “We’re burning daylight, baby.”

 Namjoon stands and you can’t help but feel a roar of flames in your belly at the pet-name. Your cheeks are surely flaming up and you admonish yourself for getting so peaked about such a trivial name.

 “Please don’t tell me we’re walking,” you murmur as you sneak a peek outside.

 The snow is falling down harder now, and you’re dreadfully underdressed for the weather.

 Namjoon tsks at your lack of outerwear, but then shakes his head.

 “No, we’ll take my Range Rover.”

 You roll your eyes and grimace.

 “Of course. You have a fucking Nespresso machine and a Range Rover. Asshole.”

 Namjoon doesn’t even think about it as he grabs your hand and laces his fingers in between yours. If anyone asked, he’d say it’s practice—to familiarize himself with the way your fingers slot between his own so it’s not such a foreign concept when he does it in front of his family.

 “Yeah, but I’m your asshole now, princess.”

 Christmas shopping with Namjoon is mostly painless.

 Normally, you dread the lines and the crowds and the confusion and the expense.

 But with Namjoon, you relax and banter away with the tall lawyer. You’re completely at ease as you walk through crowded aisles and sort through racks of cashmere sweaters and stacks of fuzzy blankets.

 “Mom will love this, don’t you think?” Namjoon asks, holding up a thick, exquisite looking blanket.

 You’re about to answer with an affirmative when you catch yourself. You don’t even know his mom. You’ve never met the woman. Why does it feel as if Namjoon is someone you’ve known your entire life? 

 Why do things feel so easy with him?

 “Sure, Namjoon,” you reply. “Seems like something most mother’s would be into.”

 He smiles at you. It’s a genuine smile too, one that nearly knocks you on your ass. Your body is sent into overdrive constantly. He holds your hand, he places his hand at the small of your back to guide you through a thick crowd. He calls you baby and princess and doll.

 It’s confusing.

 It’s amazing.

 You can’t tell if you love it or hate it.

 Namjoon pushes the shopping cart and walks beside you, chatting easily about his various aunts and uncles names that you likely must remember at some point but you just can’t think about anything but Namjoon, Namjoon, Namjoon.

 You hate him. He stole that corner office from you. He’s going to take the promotion you want from right under your nose. He has a goddamn Nespresso in his office and a Range Rover. 

 And yet, you can’t help but fall in place next to him and listen to him tell stories of his childhood, weaving tales of uncles who snuck him his first sips of alcohol and aunts who spoil him rotten. He’s easy to listen to, a natural story-teller. Your body feels warm, as if you’re sitting on a large hearth by a roaring fire. He’s comforting.

 It’s infuriating and wonderful all at once. 

 “And that’s when my cousin Jungkook got caught smoking cigarettes. My grandma beat our ass so bad I couldn’t sit for a day.”

 Namjoon finishes his story and turns to look at you. You’ve been staring at the man for nearly a minute straight now.

 “Hey,” his voice is soft. “You listening?”

 You shake out of the trance Namjoon’s deep voice sends you into.

 “Yeah!” You reply with a smirk. “Sounds like this Jungkook is a guy I’d like to meet.”

 Namjoon sucks his teeth and nudges you.

 “Hey, you’re my girlfriend, remember.”

 You stick your tongue out at him playfully.

 “Fake girlfriend. I’m still a single, desirable lady at the end of the day.”

 Namjoon hesitates before answering. He wants to reply something snarky, something sarcastic and witty. But he takes a moment to pause, allows himself to fully immerse himself in you. Even hungover, in yesterday’s jeans and an old sweater, you’re still an absolute catch. You’re the definition of desirable and Namjoon can’t help but allow himself to desire.

 “Hmm, is that what you call it?” He asks, now allowing the sarcasm to permeate his words. “I was thinking you’re more of the spinster, cat-lady type.”

 “Hey!” You pout as you slap at his arm. “I’m allergic to cats!”

 “But you don’t deny being a spinster.”

 “Fuck you, Namjoon.”

 He grins and pushes the carts towards the candle aisle, a sure-fire gift for his aunties.

 “In due time, my love.”

  By the time Christmas Eve arrives, you’ve spent nearly every day with Namjoon. At work, he brings you fresh coffee from his Nespresso and buys you lunch. You’ve even landed his big case, an incredibly complex lawsuit that will showcase your skills. Namjoon gives you pointers and space to talk through the case with him.

Namjoon is, in fact, simply being kind. And it unsettles you.

 Your heart and brain are at war with each other constantly. You should hate him, loathe him. He’s going to nail that promotion regardless of what you prove to Seokjin.

 But your heart tells you he deserves it. He’s an incredible attorney and has earned every ounce of respect. You want Namjoon to get that promotion just to see that smile on his face. He’d do incredible things as Seokjin’s protege to take over the firm.

 You hate to admit it, but Namjoon has melted the ice around your heart. And you’re dreading the day after all this is over, because it will be the day Namjoon stops holding you close and pressing soft kisses to your temple. It will be the day he stops pretending this is all real.

 It’s Christmas Eve and you’re sitting in Namjoon’s expensive Range Rover, plush leather seat toasty from the built-in seat warmer. You can’t help but marvel at the way the oncoming headlights brighten up Namjoon’s features as he drives you down a snowy mountain lane. They always hold the Kim family holiday party at Namjoon’s late grandfather’s cabin in the mountains, a quiet getaway for the family to gather and spend the night together to wake up on Christmas morning and gather around for presents and food.

 Which means waking up to Kim Namjoon.

 It’s something you’ve dreamt of often, but denied yourself any actual possibility of it. Namjoon was always out of reach, and it was easier to hate him for his success he rightfully deserved than it was to admit the feelings that were always inside.

 And now, although it’s artificial, you can’t bear to think of not spending your time with Namjoon anymore.

 You steal a glance again at him, and smile as you hear his faint humming. He loves Christmas music. You learned that early in the week during another early morning coffee and ‘get to know you’ before work. Namjoon couldn’t stop singing Mariah Carey’s classic pop song under his breath as it played over the speakers in the cafe. 

 “It’s so pretty up here,” you muse as you force your vision away from Namjoon’s gorgeous face to the snowy scenery outside. 

 The snow is falling gently, not enough to cause a blizzard but enough to make it seem like you’re trapped in a picturesque snow-globe. Leaving the city and entering the magical forest stirs an emotion inside you you hadn’t felt in some time.

 It’s Christmas Eve and there’s just something magical.

 Ugh. Unbelievable.

 Namjoon has even made you actually enjoy Christmas.

 He nods. “Yeah, it’s my favorite place in the world, I think.”

 “I can see why,” you sigh. “It looks like a painting.”

 Namjoon glances over at you peering through the window. His heart hammers in his chest hard as your glittering eyes bounce around from tree to tree, a pretty smile on your face. The diamond ring in his pocket feels like it weighs a literal ton and he nibbles at his lip.

 He bought it for the showmanship of it all, initially. It was his first purchase he made when he set up this whole rouse.

 But now, it feels real. It feels like he’s really about to get on one knee and ask you, the girl he’s absolutely head over heels for, to marry him.

 And then it will be over.

 He’ll make up some story to tell his mom about how it didn’t work out and you’ll go back to being his coworker, and nothing more.

 Namjoon can’t fight the sinking feeling in his stomach.

 Nothing more.

 He pulls into the driveway before you even have time to realize you’re there. He puts the car in park and smiles over at you. 

 He looks so cute in his puffy winter coat, hair pushed to the side and a smile that’s all dimples and cheeks.

 Fuck.

 “We’re here,” he whispers. “You ready?”

 Suddenly, the nerves of meeting your fake boyfriend’s entire family slap you right in the face. You hope that you’re a good enough actress to get Namjoon through the night and into the morning.

 “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

 He nods and squeezes your hand, an unspoken comforting ‘I got you’.

 Namjoon gathers his wrapped gifts and stacks them all in his arms, ignoring your pleas and giggles to help carry them in.

 “No, no,” he assures. “I have to make sure my mom sees me being manly and helpful.”

 As if on cue, the front door opens and Mrs. Kim is bursting out into the snowy night.

 “Namjoon!” She shrieks, completely overjoyed. The rest of the family is standing by the door, eyeing you carefully with smiles and whispers. You pray to whatever Christmas God that’s listening that you can do this.

 Namjoon sets the pile of gifts down just in time to wrap his delicate and tiny mother in his arms, hugging her tightly while she gleefully buries her face into her tall son’s chest.

 “Oh, my son, I’ve missed you.”

 Namjoon kisses the crown of her head and smiles.

 “Missed you too, eomma.”

 The scene has you misty-eyed and you swipe at your eyes to stop the tears. There’s no way you’re ruining the fantastic makeup you did for the occasion, but the reunion of Namjoon and his mother is heart-warming. He clearly cares for his mother more than he would outwardly admit. 

 Namjoon and his mother unwrap from each other and Namjoon turns towards you.

 “Everyone, this is ____,” he breathes. “My girlfriend.”

 His mother’s gleeful squeals now turn to you, and within an instant she’s gathering you up in just as tight of a hug as she did to her son.

 “Oh, darling, we are so happy to meet you,” she beams.

 The excitement in her voice makes you feel bad—like you’re conning an old woman out of her retirement. You’re instilling a sense of hope in the kind woman, and you can’t help but send Namjoon a look as you wrap your arms around her and return the embrace. His eyes sparkle with something you can’t read.

 “I’m happy to meet you too,” you smile as you pull apart. “Thank you for letting me come.”

 “No thanks necessary,” she admonishes with a wink. “We had to beg Namjoon to bring you. It seems he wants to keep you all to himself.”

 “Eomma!” Namjoon snaps. “Be appropriate!”

 She nudges you with her elbow knowingly, which makes your cheeks flame hot, before she leads the way back into the house.

 “Come in, come in! Let’s get out of this snow.”

 Namjoon encourages you to step inside with a gentle hand at the small of your back—a touch that makes your body light up brighter than a Christmas tree.

 “Thank you,” he whispers in your ear from behind. You can feel the warmth of his lips and your body reacts.

How is it that any simple act makes you desperately horny for the man? You pray for some respite from your sexual frustration over the next day. How are you going to last over 24 hours?

 Namjoon deposits his massive haul of gifts under the tree and returns to your side, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to bring you close. He introduces you to uncles and aunts and cousins. He even introduces you to his infamous cousin, Jungkook, who smirks at you in a way that makes Namjoon pull you in closer to his body.

 “Are you doing okay?” Namjoon finally asks after the rush of relatives greeting you dies down. He turns you towards him, to face him directly with his hands on either of your shoulders. “You’re killing it.”

 You can’t help but smile. Namjoon’s family is all incredibly kind and funny. They welcome you into the family with ease and it chips away a little more each time at your heart.

 Because this is all fake. 

 One day, Namjoon really will have a girlfriend to bring to Christmas and to show off to his relatives and it won’t be you. You’ll be back at your apartment, watching shitty TV re-runs and binging on Chinese takeout, as you do every year. It’s a jab at your heart each time the bitter truth rears its ugly head.

 “Yeah,” you nod. “I’m great.”

 “Look!” Jungkook shouts. “They’re standing under the mistletoe!”

 Namjoon blushes a shade of red that likely matches a blush on your own cheeks. Sure enough, the green branches of the mistletoe taunt you from above. 

 You’ve never kissed Namjoon before. In all the skinship and closeness of the last week, you’ve still yet to close the gap to kissing the man. 

 “Oh, come on Kook, that’s a stupid tradition,” Namjoon murmurs awkwardly, rubbing at the back of his neck.

 Jungkook smirks as he steps up next to you.

 “Well, if you’re not going to do it, I’d be more than happy to take your place.”

 Jungkook wraps a loose arm around you and gives you a charming smile. He must be very popular with the ladies, you think. That’s a charming smile.

 “Hey!” Namjoon grabs for your hand and tugs you out of Jungkook’s predatory gaze. “She’s my girlfriend.”

 Namjoon looks at you for a moment, assessing your comfort level with everything about to take place. His lips look so inviting, so plush and warm. Now that you’re thinking about kissing him, you can’t help but focus on the way his lips pucker so gently and naturally.

 And then it happens. Namjoon lowers his face towards you and it feels as if the world is in slow-motion. It’s happening.

 The first press of his lips is soft and conservative. You take a split second to register, but instinctively you press against his lips with determination and wrap your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss.

 He groans softly as you trail your tongue out to seek purchase in his mouth, and he opens for you without hesitation. His hands grip at your waist and bring your body flush against his. You can feel his cock twitching and rising from the kiss that’s gone from innocent and playful to passionate and deep. It feels like the world around you has stopped and the only thing that matters is Namjoon, his mouth, his body against your own. He tastes like hot chocolate and peppermint, and you want more, more.

 “Oh my god, stop,” Jungkook’s voice shatters your illusion of being all alone with Namjoon. “Now you’re just showing off.”

 Namjoon pulls away from you, eyes dazed as he tries to right himself. 

 “You two are just so perfect for each other,” Namjoon’s mother says, who’s suddenly appeared in Jungkook’s place. “Let me show you your bedroom.”

 “Oh, we’re sharing?” You ask without thought. It’s a large house, with ample bedrooms surely for you to have your own space.

 Namjoon nudges you in the ribs gently, eyes widening and mouthing a ‘what the fuck do you mean?’ 

 “Of course dear, don’t be silly,” his mother replies with an eyebrow waggle and a chuckle. “I remember when your father and I were dating. He would sneak into my room after my parents went to bed and keep me up all night long. Your grandfather would ask me if I had terrible dreams that night, because I looked so tired.”

 Namjoon makes a face. “Eomma, please,” he begs. “Please don’t talk about my parents like that.”

 As his mother guides you down a long hallway, your mind is whirring with too many thoughts of Namjoon, of sharing a bedroom with Namjoon, of seeing his sleeping face and waking up next to him. It’s all too much, too overwhelming. You pray there’s a couch in the room you could sleep on, because you’re far too weak and you’d rather fight the desperation in your body than face the fact that you want nothing more than to curl right into Namjoon’s strong arms and let him hold you all night to sleep.

 Fuck.

 “Here we are!” 

 His mother opens the door with grace, and flicks on the light. The room is beautiful in its simplicity. A king sized bed, a fireplace, and a balcony with a view of the sprawling snowy scene outside. It’s cozy and warm and decorated with its own Christmas tree.

 “Wow,” is all you can muster.

 “Aish, Mom,” Namjoon sighs as he drops his bags. “You didn’t need to do all of this for us.”

 Mrs. Kim holds his hand in both of hers. “Well, I know how special this Christmas is going to be,” she winks. “I want you to enjoy your time here. Now, I’ll leave you two alone for a bit. Dinner is in an hour, so ‘freshen up’!”

Another wink, and Namjoon makes another face. She definitely wants grandchildren, that much is for certain.

 She closes the door behind her and you’re left standing in the room, overnight bag in hand.

 “This is—Wow, this is amazing.”

 You’ve never experienced Christmas like this—with decorations and warmth and family. It’s as if the love of the Kim family permeates the very walls of the expansive cabin, like it’s built into the foundation itself. For a moment, you allow yourself to soak it all in. This is all yours. It’s your Christmas and you finally understand why so many make such a fuss over it. The results are nothing short of remarkable.

 “Yeah, she really does the most,” Namjoon laughs. 

 He takes the bag from your hand without your notice and you step towards the balcony to peer into the night. The landscape looks as if everything has been covered in soft marshmallow. The snow is untouched—picture perfect.

 “I’ve never had anything like this before.”

 Namjoon settles your bag and his on the bed, watching as you soak in your own wonder. The smile on your face is not one he sees often, one of pure joy. Namjoon swallows hard as he realizes he wants to be the one to always put that smile on your face.

 “Not such a Scrooge after all, eh?”

 You turn from the still-life view outside and back to Namjoon, where he stands at the foot of the bed. He looks so different outside the office. He’s wearing skinny jeans and a flannel shirt, his puffy jacket hanging by the door. No cream suit, no slicked back hair or shoes shiny enough to see your reflection. Just simply Namjoon.

 He’s no longer the man who steals the limelight in the office. He’s no longer the man you see as your adversary or your rival.

 He’s the man who’s showing you the magic of Christmas, the spirit of love and kindness that embodies the season.

 He’s the man you’ve fallen in love with.

 And yet, he’s the man who will leave once this is over and return to his proper life, and you to yours. He’ll return to sleeping with models and movie starlets, and you’ll return to binge watching Great British Bake-Off with Jimin and a carton of Chicken Tikka Masala.

 And Christmas will never feel as special as it does now. 

 So, you’re determined to soak in it for a little longer. It’s going to hurt regardless, so why not push that hurt off until tomorrow and allow yourself to pretend you live the lie you’re spinning for Namjoon’s family?

 “I think I’ll just freshen up and change into my dinner outfit, then?” You ask out loud, grabbing for your overnight bag and heading towards the ensuite.

 Namjoon, who expected a witty retort, takes a moment to reply.

 “Oh,” he coughs. “Yeah, sure. I’ll err—, I’ll just get ready out here.”

 You quickly escape into the bathroom, closing the door and resting on it as you exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

 The tension in the bedroom with Namjoon was too thick, too powerful, especially after the kiss you just shared. His cock had been there, straining in his jeans as you licked into his mouth. The kiss felt so natural, as if you had always kissed Namjoon like that. Your heart beats loud and hard in your chest just from the thought of it.

 You really needed to get a handle over yourself. You still have dinner to get through, and an entire night in a bedroom with Namjoon. A bed with Namjoon.

 No, you won’t allow yourself to go that far. You can pretend you’re his girlfriend, but all thoughts of his delectable body doing scintillating things to yours is strictly off-limits. You shake all thoughts of a thick, heavy cock sliding into your mouth and warm hands spreading you open, and set about fixing your makeup and changing into the gorgeous cocktail dress you purchased for the occasion. It wasn’t often you got to get dressed up. The emerald green velvet dress clings to your body and highlights your curves. It’s a sexy dress, definitely, but also appropriate for a formal evening with your boyfriend’s parents.

 Well, your fake boyfriend. Right.

 After fixing your hair and buckling your heels, you take one last glimpse in the mirror for good luck and exit the room.

 Your breath is nearly knocked out of your lungs as you see Namjoon. 

You’ve seen him dressed up for court and for TV appearances millions of times, but you’ve never seen him like this.

 He wears a blood red button up without a tie, a few buttons open to emphasize the casual look, tucked into the tightest and sexiest slacks you’ve ever seen. They hug his thighs and sit at a spot on his waist that you just know is rippling with cut lines from his work in the gym. His hair is tucked back with a bit of hairspray, and he’s fixing the sleeves of his shirt when he sees you.

 His eyes widen and his hands fall to his sides as he soaks in your appearance.

 An absolute vision.

 He can see the gentle valley between your breasts and the way your dress pushes up your cleavage and displays your collar.  The dress follows the delicate curve of your waist and hips and ends at your knee, but teases him with a glimpse of thigh that has him wiping his mouth in case he’s drooling. 

 “You look incredible,” Namjoon murmurs as you step closer.

“So do you.”

 You swallow hard as he continues closer to you, breathing harshly as he stands right in front of you. You could reach out and unbuckle his expensive slacks and fist his cock right there. You’d fall on your knees for him, if he asked.

 There’s a moment of silence as Namjoon’s face inches closer and closer to your own, each unable to verbalize just how desperate either of you feel for the other.

 “Namjoon, I—,” you start. You want to tell him. You want to tell him everything—that you don’t want this to be fake, that you want this to be real, and you want to be his and his forever.

 “Yes?”

 You swallow hard, shaken by just how close his lips are to yours. He’s inches away and all you can focus on is the way his plush lips look and how well they fit against your own under the mistletoe.

 “I just—, I really um, I’m just very…” 

 You’re not making sense. Comprehension of language is quickly soaring out the window because the only words you know are ‘Please, for the love of God, kiss me and make me yours’, but you can’t bring yourself to speak them out loud.

 Namjoon’s hand cups your cheek, as if he can tell what you’re trying to say.

 “Yeah,” he breathes. The inches between you turn to centimeters, to bare millimeters. Your eyes flutter close as you feel his breath dance over your lips and your heart beats so loud you’re sure the entire household can hear it. He’s right there and moves in to close the distance—

 “Knock Knock!!”

 The forceful, cheery voice of cousin Jungkook forces both of you to jump away from each other as if you’ve touched a burning stove. Your head feels light, like you’ve forgotten to breathe for the last ten minutes and you’ve suddenly taken in too much air.

 The wooden door squeaks open and Jungkook pokes his head in, a shit-eating grin on his face.

 “Auntie sent me to get you. It’s dinnertime!”

 Namjoon rubs his face frustratedly. “Yes, thank you, Jungkook.”

 Jungkook doesn’t leave, however. He smiles at you and winks. 

“Would you like an escort to dinner, madame? You look tastier than the roast beef downstairs.”

 A blush creeps over your cheeks as Namjoon storms to the door where his cousin laughs.

 “That’s enough, Kook. We’ll be down in a minute.”

 He sends you one more grin, then retreats from the door and closes it behind him.

 “Sorry about that,” Namjoon apologizes. You’re not sure what he’s apologizing for—Jungkook, or the moment before.

 “It’s alright. Let’s go?”

 Namjoon nods and holds out his hand with a smile.

 “Let’s go, girlfriend.”

  Dinner with the Kim family is as delightful as every other interaction with them has been. They’re polite and funny and ask questions about your life and your family.

 They ask how you met Namjoon (at work), what your favorite quality about him is (his smile and his ass), and what your first date together was (coffee at seven in the morning).

 You tell stories of Namjoon in the office, of your best friend Park Jimin who’s secretly trying to date the IT manager, of your parents and Christmases past.

 By the time dessert is served, Namjoon’s mother looks at you as if you’ve put the very stars in the sky.

 Namjoon doesn’t miss that look either. He can see the way his family is falling in love with you and somewhere deep in his stomach, he feels the guilt rising. All of this is a lie. Not only is he going to break his own heart, but every heart of his family member’s too. 

 “We’re all just so overjoyed that Namjoon has found someone to share his life with,” his mom speaks softly. It’s the first time she’s been thoughtful and quiet. She’s a woman who’s larger than life, you’ve found, so the softness in her tone strikes a chord. “You’re absolutely perfect for him. I’ve never seen him happier.”

 Fuck. 

 “Thank you,” you murmur sincerely to his mother. “I’ve never been happier.”

 Namjoon peers up from where he’s been pushing around his uncle’s famous chocolate cake on his plate to watch as you speak.

 “Truthfully, I never cared much for Christmas. I thought it was a rubbish holiday and spent it alone every year with a bottle of wine and some takeout. Namjoon really changed that for me,” you smile at the man and place your hand in his lap to hold his free hand. “He showed me more about Christmas in one week than I’ve felt in my entire life.”

 Namjoon’s mom wipes away an errant tear and he squeezes your hand under the table.

 “I guess the Grinch’s heart has grown 3 sizes, after all.”

 Namjoon’s joke lightens the soft mood, and suddenly there’s chatter around as the family members move about to wash dishes and clean up the mess of dinner. Everyone leaves the table except for you and Namjoon.

 “That was some good acting,” he whispers with a sad smile.

 “Right,” you whisper back, nibbling your lip anxiously. “Acting, of course.”

  You should have thought through the bedroom sharing thing more.

 Because sharing a bedroom is one thing.

 And sharing a bed is another.

 And of course, the only pajamas you thought to bring tonight is a very sexy long shirt that says “no coffee, no talking” with a bedazzled pair of shushing lips. That’s it. Just a single shirt. Not even a pair of shorts or pajama pants.

 You slip into the bed first, as far onto one side of it as possible. It’s a king sized bed, and it still feels too intimate, too close.

 Namjoon exits the bathroom after his shower, rubbing at his wet hair with a towel. He’s shirtless, wearing only a pair of flannel pajamas, leaving his bare chest on display.

 Sweet lord in heaven, you nearly cry out loud. He’s absolutely ripped, pecs defined and droplets of water from his hair streaming down. You want to chase each drop with your tongue and circle back again. You shut your eyes tight and clench your teeth. Why, oh why, does he have to look so fucking sexy at a time like this?

 Namjoon sees you at the edge of the bed, shutting your eyes closed like you’re a shy schoolgirl afraid to see a naked man’s body. He feels guilty for making you be here. He knows you’ve likely got better things to do than spend time with a man you openly hate.

 “I’m sorry,” he apologizes for nothing in particular. 

 You ignore it. Instead, you’re trying to think of every un-sexy thing in the world you can possibly imagine. Taxes, a bunch of bees, old people, shark attacks.

 There’s absolutely nothing that can stop the image of Namjoon’s perfectly sculpted body from bursting into your mind. You’re nearly pleading with yourself to just go to sleep and contemplate how hard you’d need to hit your head to knock yourself out as fast as possible.

 “I’ll sleep on the floor,” he says as he grabs a small throw blanket from the closet and throws it to the ground by the fire.

 It snaps you from your musings of how best to forget how badly you want to suck Namjoon’s cock through his pajama pants.

 “What?” You sit up in the posh bed and finally make eye-contact. “Why? It’s freezing. There’s a literal snowstorm outside.” You motion to the window of the balcony. What was once a gentle snowfall is now a full-on winter storm.

 “There’s a fire. I’ll be fine, I sleep hot anyway.” Namjoon’s voice is low and without energy. He almost sounds sad.

 God, is being with you that hard for him? You know you’re just the artificial replacement until he has the real thing, but you’d actually hoped Namjoon had found it as comforting and warm as you had.

 “Namjoon,” you sigh. “This is a king-sized bed. You don’t need to be waking up with back pain because you gallantly slept on the floor.”

 To emphasize your point, you tug back the blankets on the other side, beckoning him to join.

 He hesitates for a moment, as if he’s weighing the pro’s and con’s and sliding into bed next to you in his mind, then stands and pads his way on the plush carpet towards the bed and slips in.

 There’s an entire football field of distance between you two in the bed, but it feels like he’s right beside you. You imagine sliding in right next to him, wrapping your arms around his taut chest and pressing soft kisses to his stomach.

 You squeeze your eyes closed again. Stop it, you horny slut.

 “Thank you, again.” Namjoon breaks the silence. “I really appreciate you helping me out.”

 “Yeah,” you swallow hard. “Of course. What else was I going to do? Jimin’s probably sucking Yoongi’s dick right now, so I’d be watching baking shows alone.”

 Namjoon laughs for a moment, then quiets.

 “You know, I don’t even really want that promotion at work.”

 You’re surprised by the sudden change in topic, but you turn over to face Namjoon.

“What?! Really?”

 Namjoon nods and stares at the ceiling. “I don’t think I’m that good of an attorney to get it, anyway.”

 His statement makes you sit up in bed again, staring at the man in disbelief.

 “Are you fucking kidding me, Namjoon? You’re the best lawyer in the firm.”

 Namjoon says nothing, just turns to stare at you curiously as you continue.

 “You’re like… literally better than Seokjin, too. The way you handled the Taehyung case was nothing short of historical. Like, that was an impossible case, and you nailed it. That was your ‘OJ’ case, you know?”

 Namjoon barks a laugh.

 “My what?”

 “Your OJ case!” You use your hands to emphasize the importance of what you’re saying. “Like, they’ll write about you and how impossible the odds were of winning that case. And you won it! Not even Seokjin could have won that case.”

 He’s silent again, watching as you speak directly from your heart with all the fire and passion you feel about the things you care about. It’s what makes you such an incredible lawyer, too.

 “Wow,” he breathes. “Thank you.”

 You settle back down from your excitement, suddenly bashful at how fanatical you became.  

 “You’re welcome,” you murmur. “You deserve that promotion. And the office.”

 Namjoon smirks.

 “And the Nespresso?”

 Your eyes narrow and send a glare to him he can see even with the faintest of light in the room.

 “No, no one deserves the Nespresso, except for me.”

 He chuckles and settles down into his pillows.

 “Goodnight,” he whispers.

 “Goodnight, Namjoon.”

 There’s a beat of silence and your eyes flutter shut easily. It’s quiet, and all you can hear is the crackle of the log in the fireplace and the wind blowing past the balcony windows as the storm outside rages.

 “Oh,” Namjoon whispers again. “And, Merry Christmas.”

 You can’t fight the smile that creeps onto your face.

 “Merry Christmas, Joonie.”

  “Happy Christmas!” A voice bellows through your bedroom at approximately seven fifteen am.

 You groan, immediately grimacing and burying your face into your firm, warm pillow.

 “Nooooo,” you whine, trying to hide from the offending noise.

 Namjoon shakes awake, and notices Jungkook standing at the bedroom door once again.

“It’s time for presents!” He giddily explains. “And, they gave me the job of waking you two up.”

 “Of course,” Namjoon yawns.

 “You look a little wrapped up,” Jungkook smirks, eyeing your sleeping body. “I’ll give you two a minute. Don’t get distracted.”

 Namjoon rolls his eyes and watches as the door closes, before he turns his attention towards you.

 Somehow, in the middle of the night, you’ve scooched yourself to his side of the bed and draped your body around his. Your face is buried in his chest and your legs are haphazardly intertwined in his own.

 He bites his lip. His cock is rock solid, not just from his usual morning wood, but from the way he can feel your tits through your shirt, and from the sight of your pink panties. Namjoon wants to take them off with his teeth and bury his face in your delicious cunt, and his cock is nearly screaming at him to get on with it.

 “Hey,” he whispers to you, actively ignoring the demon that is his turgid length. “Wake up.”

 This causes you to cling harder to his chest, rubbing your sleepy face on him.

 “What is it with you and early mornings?” You ask, blearily raising your head to peer at him judgementally.

 Namjoon bites his lip, curious about your reaction to the tight embrace you’ve got on him. He doesn’t want to say anything, doesn’t want to break the spell. Frankly, he wants to push your sleep shirt up and stuff you full of his cum.

 “Merry Christmas?” He offers shyly.

 You take a full minute to recognize what’s happening.

 You’re no longer on your edge of the bed. You’re wrapped around the man like a koala, legs strewn over him without care and clinging to him like he’s a lifeline.

 “Oh!” You gasp as you jerk out of his grasp. 

 In your movement, your leg brushes over an obvious tent in Namjoon’s pants, making him groan softly. You shut your eyes, embarrassed at how disgustingly horny you are for the man who’s not even interested in you sexually.

 “Christ, I’m so sorry,” your cheeks flame bright red and you scoot further from him.

 “No, no, don’t be,” Namjoon wheezes as he tries to fix himself. “It’s fine. It’s more than fine. It’s great. It happens. Don’t worry.”

 He continues to stammer out reassurances as he leaves the bed and bolts into the bathroom to fix his unruly tented pants, leaving you sitting atop the bed washed with shame.

 “Fucking hell,” you whisper to yourself as you rub at your cheeks. “Get a grip of yourself.”

 Inside the bathroom, it only takes Namjoon a few fisted jerks of his cock and the mental image of you beneath him, begging for him, until he’s silently cumming on an expensive towel. He bites his free hand to stifle the moans he makes as his cock pulses.

 By the time he arrives back in the bedroom, you’ve changed into a hoodie and yoga leggings that accentuate your ass so delectably that Namjoon thinks about turning right back into the bathroom for a second round.

 “I’m sorry!” You nearly shout when he walks into the room. “About the bed. You were warm and I was cold. That’s all.”

 Nmajoon simply nods, doesn’t want to have to explain how he wishes he could wake up like that every day. Doesn’t want to describe in vivid detail how he’d wake you up with his tongue buried deep in your cunt.

 “Let me grab a shirt and we’ll head out, yeah?”

 Your eyes dance over the defined ridges of his body, a little crest-fallen at the idea that this might be the last time you see him shirtless, but you nod anyway.

 “Yeah.”

The ring box sits in a deceptively large box beneath the tree. Namjoon wrapped it last night and hide it at the very back. His heartbeat hammers in his ears as his family passes around gifts and opens each with squeals of delight.

 His mother gave him new ties for the office, ones that Namjoon prefers. She’s even gifted you with jewelry, which makes your eyes water at the sentiment.

 It all begins to be too much. It’s harder and harder to hold back the tears as each of Namjoon’s family members gives you gifts. It doesn’t matter the value, not at all. The fact that they specifically set out to include you in their gift-unwrapping makes your heart snap in two.

 This is all too much, it’s too real.

 It’s everything you never dreamed you could have. A loving partner who lets you sit in the space of his legs and rubs your arms soothingly. A family who goes out of their way to include you in the abundance of love and company. A cabin so warm and cozy.

 The tears don’t stop.

 It’s at the end of the gift exchange that you finally allow yourself to breathe. 

 “There’s one more,” Namjoon whispers as he moves from behind you and fetches a large box from behind the tree. “It’s for you, princess.”

 Curiously, and suspiciously, you eye him as he sets the enormous gift in your lap. You had done nearly all his Christmas shopping with him, and can’t remember a single thing he would have gotten for you.

 “I hope it’s the Nespresso from your office,” you snark with a smile. His family members all laugh and exchange knowing looks to each other.

 Namjoon doesn’t think he can breathe. He watches as you begin to carefully unwrap the large box, which reveals another box, slightly smaller. He can’t help but grin as you continue to unwrap the nesting-doll style gift until you’re down to the smallest one, the one that holds the ring box.

 With one last tear of paper, your eyes widen as you recognize the velvet box.

 “Oh--,” you breathe as you delicately pry open the gift.

 Inside sits a dazzling and gorgeous diamond ring. It catches the light from the fire and sparkles like a firecracker.

 “Oh my god,” you whimper as the tears flow again.

 He’s proposing.

 Namjoon settles himself onto one knee and tucks an errant piece of hair behind your ears.

 “You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. I knew from day one that you were always the girl I wanted to marry,”

 Namjoon’s speech sends daggers to your heart. He’s so convincing for something so counterfeit. 

 “I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember, much longer than we’ve been together. You’re who I want to come home to every night, and who I want to wake up with every morning.”

 It hurts. It hurts so badly that you’re crying even harder as he continues to speak. His family must think you’re simply overcome with emotion and love that the crying doesn’t give it away, but inside you’re absolutely dying.

 There’s no way you can recover from this.

 Tomorrow, Namjoon will take the ring back to where he got it from and return to what he had before. He’ll leave you behind, broken and hopelessly in love with a man who faked a relationship so well that you fell for it, hard.

 “____, will you marry me?”

 You take several large, gulping gasps to reply. You can’t shatter the illusion. Namjoon’s parents are weeping with joy, while his relatives record the moment on their phones and wipe away errant tears. Even Jungkook looks soft, proud of his cousin for taking the next step in his life.

 Oh, how you wish this were all real.

 “Yes,” you lie with a smile. “Yes, Namjoon, of course!”

 Namjoon grins and pulls you to standing, gathering you in his arms as he hugs you tight. His family cheers and hollers in the background, and you sob into his shoulder as you cling to him.

 He easily slides the diamond ring out of the box and onto your finger, where it sits and taunts you. The weight is heavy, and you whimper at the realization that this will never be for you. It will sit atop a pretty model’s finger sometime soon, when Namjoon resumes his regular life.

 “Oh, my darlings, I am so happy for you!” Namjoon’s mother appears and wraps you both in a hug, weeping and kissing cheeks. “We must discuss planning!”

 It’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back. The tears and weeping turn to wracking sobs, which quiets the family as they watch you hold your face in your hands.

 “I’m sorry,” you apologize through your grief. “I—I just need a moment.”

 Without another word, you turn from the scene and bolt back towards the bedroom.

 It’s silent and Namjoon’s heart sinks. 

 This must be too much for you, too much for you to pretend to love him. He knew it was too much and he should have discussed it with you beforehand.

 “She’s just a little err--,” Namjoon tries. “Easily emotional. I’ll go check on her.”

 His family understands as Namjoon hurries towards the bedroom and gently opens the door.

 You’re sitting over your overnight bag, trying to shove any clothing into it you can, while you sob openly.

 “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I should have told you. I sort of... told my mom I’d be proposing to my girlfriend.”

 There’s pain in your eyes as you snap your head up to look at him. It nearly destroys him.

 “You should have warned me!” You gasp. “Namjoon, I can’t do this.”

 Namjoon lowers his head and shoves his hands into his pockets of his pajama pants.

 “I get it. I know you want to go back to your regular life. I can take you home now.”

 You’re silent for a moment, standing and moving towards the man.

 “Don’t you get it, Namjoon?”

 He raises his head to look at you curiously, brow knitted together with confusion.

 “I’m in love with you, you asshole!” You cry, pushing at his chest. “I can’t continue to pretend this is real anymore. I love you, I absolutely love you and I can’t go on watching you pretend you love me too. It’s too much for me to handle.”

 Namjoon’s world freezes in time as he watches you slide the ring off your finger. He grasps your hand to stop you, his eyes boring into your own.

 “I never had to pretend.”

 Before you can speak, Namjoon cups your cheek and pulls you in close, mouth sealing over your own in a desperate kiss.

 You don’t fight it, not at all. You sink into his grasp and kiss him back with fervor, with all the pent-up emotions you’ve held back all this time.

 “I’m in love with you,” he whispers as he pulls away from the kiss. “I meant every single word I said.”

 More tears stream down your cheeks, and Namjoon is quick to wipe them away with his thumb.

 “I know it’s maybe too soon for us to really be engaged, but I—I want that, with you,” he adds. “I want you to be my girlfriend… for real.”

 “Are you being serious right now?” You ask as your hands cling to Namjoon’s waist.

 He can’t help but to laugh, nodding in reassurance as he leans down to press his lips to yours in a tender kiss.

 “Never been more serious in my life.”

 “I can’t believe you’re mine,” Joon murmurs into the nape of your neck.

 You were supposed to be driving home to your apartment now, back to real life, but the snowstorm raged on and Namjoon decided it might be best to spend yet another night in the cabin. Together. As a couple. A real couple.

 You didn’t put up much of a fight.

 He’s pressing soft kisses into your tender skin as he closes the door to the bedroom.

  “All mine, all mine.” He chants it like a mantra. 

 You’re trying to maneuver your way into the dark bedroom, only guided by the light from the fireplace. Namjoon stops you and pulls away from your neck, eyes soaking in every inch of you.

 “You have no idea what I’ve been dying to do to you,” he speaks after a moment of appreciating your beauty.

 “Hmm, I think I have some idea,” you say, a finger at Namjoon’s chest, directing him towards the bed. “I’ve been dying to suck your cock, Joon,” you whisper in his ear as he makes his way backwards. “Will you let me?”

 Namjoon nods in a daze as he sits on the edge of the bed and watches as you kneel. Your eyes are full of hope, full of lust. It makes his cock harden further.

 “Please do,” he breathes. “I’ve wondered what you’d look like with your mouth full of my dick.”

 You smile as you tug at his flannel pajama pants, pulling them down thick thighs and calves until they’re completely off. Your mouth waters at the sight before you. Namjoon’s cock is thick, head weeping with pre-cum and straining hard against his taut chest. He’s been working out more, you can tell. His arms are full and strong, and his chest is so firm and defined. 

 He’s an entire three-course meal.

 Before you move closer to his cock, Namjoon stops you.

 “Take your shirt off.”

 You comply easily, already settling well into an obedient role. He discards the shirt to the side and marvels at your breasts. He can’t wait to mark them up, suck them until you’re crying.

 “Perfect,” he sighs. “You’re fucking perfect.”

 He allows you to resume your work, eyeing the length of his cock before wrapping a hand around it and gently pumping.

 “Shit,” he breathes as his head falls back. “I’ve dreamt about how it’d feel having my cock in your hands.”

 “What else have you dreamed about?” You ask with a teasing smile, bringing your lips to the tip to paint tiny stripes. He tastes salty, somewhat earthy, and the pre-cum that’s gathered at the top gets swept up by your tongue. 

 Namjoon can’t believe how lucky he is. Can’t believe how incredible it feels to have you here, licking at his cock like a lollipop. He’s enchanted by the way your delicate tongue swirls around his head, testing and teasing.

 “You look so good, princess,” he whispers as he tucks stray hair behind your ears. 

 You’re encouraged by his sweet-talk and soon descend to take his cock fully in as far as you can go. You’re definitely out of practice, but you steel yourself up to take him completely to the back of your throat. Namjoon’s desperate moans and cursing only encourages you further.

 Soon enough, you’ve started a rhythm of bobbing your head and swirling your tongue and pumping your hand down his thick length. The noises leaving your mouth are sinful—slurping and sucking and whining around him. Namjoon’s got a hand on the back of your head, holding your hair in a makeshift ponytail and coaxing your bouncing head further down his cock.

 “Oh, shit, baby,” he grits through a tight jaw. “I’m gonna cum baby girl, fuuuuckkk—oh god, yes baby, just like that.”

 You slurp and swallow around his cock as much as you can, head bobbing at a frantic pace while you cast your eyes upwards to the man to watch him come apart. He meets your eye contact and loses it at the fire burning in your beautiful eyes.

 “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he gasps as his cock pulses. “Cumming, baby—ohhhh, shit, take it all, baby.”

 After slowing your pace completely, you sweetly moan around his length as his salty cum splatters on your tongue. Bringing Namjoon to climax with your mouth is already one of your favorite hobbies, and you’re desperate to do it again.

 When he’s completely spent in your mouth, you pop off carefully and present your tongue to your boyfriend, who smiles.

 “You gonna swallow my cum, baby girl?” He asks, cupping your cheek sweetly.

 You nod in reply, and he groans as he watches you close your mouth and visibly swallow his load.

 “Fuck, that was so hot. Fucking kiss me already,” he demands, pulling you up gently by the hand and pressing his mouth to yours. He doesn’t care if he can taste himself still lingering in your mouth. In fact, he thinks your mouth should always taste like him.

 Namjoon holds you close as he kisses you, tongue diving around and seeking purchase in your mouth. His hands are roaming your body, cupping your breasts and caressing your curves. He can’t get enough. He doesn’t think there will come a time in his life when he won’t love touching you.

 His hand smoothes over the satin of your panties and he smirks into the kiss as he feels how wet they are.

 “Oh my,” he tuts as he rubs at your clothed slit. “All this from sucking my cock, princess?”

 It’s too late to be ashamed of it. You simply nod and whimper as his thick fingers rub at your core. You’re dying to feel those fingers inside you, scissoring you open to prepare you for his massive cock.

 “P-please,” you gasp, needing more of him. “Please, Joon.”

 He lets out a breath of contentment, loving the way his name sounds in your breathy moans. In one quick swoop, he flings your panties off and onto the floor and slides down to his knees where you knelt moments before.

 “I want to see this pretty pussy up close,” he murmurs as he lays you out at the edge and spreads open your thighs as wide as he can. 

 You’re gorgeous, absolutely mouth-watering. He licks his lips as he watches your folds drip with arousal and takes a delicate finger to trace the slit gently.

 “Fuck,” you gasp as he swirls his finger around your sensitive clit. It’s been so long since someone else has made you orgasm, you’re sure you won’t last a second with the man of your sexual dreams face-first in your cunt.

 “This is my pussy now,” he states as he leans in close and licks a fat stripe from your hole to your clit. “I’m going to make you cum every fucking night, baby. Gonna claim this cunt as my own.”

 You’re trembling from his words and his actions as he soon buries his face into your pussy and eats as if he’s a man starved. His tongue swirls around your hole before swiping up to your clit, making your back arch and keen off the bed. His lips wrap around your throbbing clit and sucks gently, lewd noises echoing off the walls of the bedroom.

 “Namjoon!” You squeal as he slides two of his fingers inside you and slowly pumps. They’re thick and perfect, and they’re better than you could have ever dreamed.

 “Cum for me, baby,” he coaxes as he licks at your clit. “I know you want to.”

 He’s right. You’re desperate for it and the string inside your belly that tightens with each thrust of his solid fingers has it nearing a snapping point.

 Namjoon speeds up, adds a third finger and fucks into you like a man on a mission. He watches your face pinch in agonized delight and is hypnotized by the way your tits bounce with each thrust up. His cock is rock solid again, aching to bury itself deep inside your womb and coat you with his cum.

 “That’s it, baby girl,” he breathes as he watches your body quiver. “Cum on my fingers, let daddy see you fall apart.”

 He presses his lips to your clit one last time and sucks, and it sends you reeling over the edge into bliss. Namjoon moans as he feels your cunt convulse and squeeze his fingers as if they’re his cock, and he nearly whines at how good it’s going to feel when he’s balls deep inside of you.

 “Fuck!” You cry as your back lifts off the bed and your legs shake. “Oh, my god!”

 Namjoon kitten licks at your pussy as you come down, cleaning up the juices that coat his fingers. He doesn’t break eye contact with you as he does it, sucking up your essence like it’s an expensive wine he won’t waste a drop of.

 “You’re so fucking sexy,” he says as you try to catch your breath. “I can’t wait to fuck you in my office.”

 The smile on your face turns lustful as you spread your legs open once again and present yourself to him.

 “Why don’t we practice right now?”

 Namjoon grips the base of his cock and gives himself a few pumps as he stares at your gorgeous body—laid out and ready for him.

 “Merry Christmas to me,” he murmurs as he presses a kiss to your lips and lines himself up.

 In one swift motion, he slips inside your juicy channel and buries himself to the hilt. You’re so wet and warm and tight that Namjoon falters and groans out loud.

 “Holy shit,” he cries. “Sweetest fucking pussy I’ve ever felt in my life.”

 Namjoon filling you up to the brim is something you’ve only ever dreamt of, and now that it’s happening you feel intoxicated. He’s so thick inside you, stretching you past what you thought you could handle, and the burn is so sweet.

 “Fuck me, Joon,” you beg as he continues to still inside you. “Please, fuck me, daddy.”

 It’s the magic word for Namjoon and instantly he’s snapped back to feral, ready to claim you as his own. He grips your hips tightly as he pumps in and out of you, delighted by the squelching juicy sounds of your cunt as he takes you.

 “That’s right, baby girl, I’m your fucking daddy,” he grunts. “Take this fat cock for daddy.”

 Your legs quiver with each thrust and Namjoon sucks a nipple into his mouth, nibbling gently on the bud which makes your body thrum with electricity. He’s marking you, claiming you inside and out, you realize. You whine and keen for him to continue, and Namjoon growls as he doubles his pace. 

 He thrusts into you without abandon, desperately seeking his release that will have him spilling his cum anywhere he possibly can.

 “Mmm, look at my pretty princess,” he groans as he stares at your blissed-out face. “Taking daddy’s cock so good, being a perfect little slut.”

 His words make your eyes roll back into your head. You’d never had someone speak so nasty to you while being so kind and praise-worthy that you don’t think you can now ever live without it.

 “G-gonna cum, daddy!” you cry as you feel your body nearing the edge. “Please let me cum!”

 Namjoon gasps for air and drops a thumb to your clit to rub circles on the sensitive bundle.

 “Yes, baby girl, cum for daddy. Cum on my cock, princess.”

 Namjoon’s unrelenting pace and thumb handily stroking your clit brings you to the end, sending you screaming into orgasmic delight.

 Namjoon nearly weeps at how good your cunt feels convulsing around his cock, walls coaxing him and gripping him tight as if your pussy is begging for his own release. 

 “Cum inside me daddy, please,” you beg as you try to catch your breath. 

 Namjoon needs no more permission. He gasps as your channel tightens around him impossibly and sends him into his own release. He whimpers as his cock pulses with ferocity, loads of cum splattering your walls.

 He doesn’t pull out. Instead, he rests his sweaty forehead on yours as you both try to catch your breath.

 “Holy shit,” you gasp as you feel yourself returning to Earth.

 Namjoon laughs and presses a kiss to your lips, before nodding.

 “Yeah,” is all he can manage.

 After a few shuddering breaths, you wrap your arms around your boyfriend’s naked body and hold him close, as close as you can.

 “If this is what Christmas is all about, sign me up.”

 Namjoon buries his face into your neck and kisses you sweetly, before lifting and giving you a playful smile.

 “I guess all Scrooge needed was a good fuck. Dickens got that part all wrong.”

Returning to work after the New Year was easier this year than it had ever been in your career.

 Namjoon was given the promotion. He told Seokjin he wanted to keep his corner office near you because he “likes the view”, and that he would give all his top cases to the best lawyer in the office—you.

 Jimin won’t stop screaming when he sees the diamond ring on your finger. You haven’t wanted to take it off since the moment you put it on. Maybe it’s not an engagement ring quite yet, maybe it’s just more of a promise. Either way, Jimin is ecstatic and confused as he shakes you down for answers.

 He walks with you to your desk, chattering away about his week with Yoongi, while you sip your convenience store coffee.

 “What the fuck?” Jimin asks as he notices something on your desk. “What is that?”

 As you round the corner, your eyes catch sight of a gleaming silver contraption on your desk, right next to your brand new computer.

 A Nespresso.

 A smile crosses your lips as you approach the expensive machine and notice a folded up card on top.

 Inside, the card is simple.

 “To the only girl in the world who deserves a Nespresso. Love, Namjoon.”

taglist - @ardoren​ @devilion14​ @bykookie​ @rageyoudamnednerd​ @holynamtiddies​ @thejooncrew​ @dee-ehn​ @yrc1963 @fireheart2003​

#bts smut #bts fanfic #kim namjoon smut #rm smut #namjoon smut #ficswithluv #rockin around the christmas tropes #bts imagines #bts reactions #kim namjoon imagines

[kpopfanfictrash]

Raise the Barre (Epilogue)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Creative Contributor: @baebae-goodnight​ for the last Raise the Barre moodboard TT she nailed it

Pairing: Jimin / Reader

Rating: 18+ (Smut)

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Dance Academy!AU

Warnings: sexual content. Dry humping, fingering, hand job, oral (female), breast play, multiple orgasms, Jimin gets turned on by making someone else come, dirty talk. Jimin’s pants are tight.

Word Count: 13,409

Summary: You and Park Jimin have been rivals for as long as you’ve known one another; ever since he tripped you in the front row of your first dance convention. When you graduate from high school and enter Russet Ballet Academy, you tell yourself you’re leaving all past quarrels behind. The main problem with this though, is that your past seems determined not to leave you alone.

Worse still, the obstacles you face while out in the real world might prove more challenging than anything your enemy has to offer.  

“And… more pointe shoes,” you said, opening the box in your lap. “Wow. Thanks, mom and dad.”

Your dad laughed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “You’re welcome, kiddo,” he said, nodding from the couch. “I know Russet gives you some already, but you can never have too many.”

“Out of curiosity.” You glanced at the tree. “Are there any boxes from you which aren’t related to dance?”

“Not related to dance…” Your mom pretended to think. “I don’t understand.”

“Mom!”

She laughed. “I’m kidding! Yes, there are other presents. You just happened to pick all the pointe shoe boxes first.”

Shaking your head, you placed the box aside. You smiled though, warmth in your chest at being home for the holidays. Classes at Russet had ended a week prior and it had been nice for a few days to simply relax. Already though, you found yourself itching to return to the city. It was strange to wake every morning and not head to ballet. It was even stranger to take classes at your old studio, trying to stay in shape before second semester began.

Playing with the string of your sweatpants, you couldn’t help glancing at your phone on the couch. It had been several days since you’d last seen Jimin in person. Oddly enough, the separation had been harder than you’d thought it would be.

Immediately after ending things with Finn, you and Jimin had tried to keep your distance. The pain of your separation had been too fresh to even consider dating someone else but, as time had gone on, you and Jimin had started becoming friends again.

It was hard not to be, with Jimin continuing as your dance partner and classmate. At the end of the semester, you’d had the opportunity to switch partners, but you and Jimin had chosen the status quo. It just made sense this way; you couldn’t think of anyone else you’d trust as much as him.

At first, things between you were strictly professional. You saw him only within the confines of the dance studio but eventually, his presence bled into your normal life. At first, the outings were small. Jimin went to a pregame you also attended. He saw you once at the coffee shop and, instead of running away, he stopped to chat. One time, he walked you back to your dorm.

When the month became December, you found your outlook improving. Most of November had been spent wallowing in your dorm, but the holiday season brought with it endless activities. The very first weekend of the month, a bunch of your Russet friends decided to go ice skating and you’d ended up tagging along.

The biggest problem had been you’d never ice skated before. Noelle had been patient, skating backwards in front of you and dragging you around the rink. Jimin had done the same thing for Hoseok, who was in a similar predicament to yours, and at some point, they swapped partners and left you skating with Jimin.

When he’d taken over for Noelle, your stomach had swooped. Hands touching, he’d led you gently around the edge and the world had seemed to still. It had been the first time you’d felt anything stir outside of your break-up. Whatever hurt and distance had sprung between you, it seemed something had survived between you and Jimin.

Nose red, Jimin had smiled as he skated backwards. “It’s easy,” he’d told you. “You just swivel, Y/N. In and out, in and out. Got it?”

“Um, no!” you’d yelped, nearly crashing to the ice when Jimin let go of your hands.

He’d laughed, catching you easily and skating like that for a while. Eventually, Jimin had helped you off the rink and gotten hot chocolate, which you insisted on buying. Payback, you said, for the impromptu skating lessons.

That day had been a turning point for you both. Throughout the month prior, you’d texted sporadically but after, you seemed to talk every day.

Jimin even offered to drive you home from Russet, given the fact that your hometowns were so close together. After much hemming and hawing, you’d eventually taken him up on the offer. The savings it gave your bleeding bank account were well-worth the potential discomfort.

This had led to both the best and worst twenty-four hours of your life.

Best, because Jimin was an excellent road trip companion. He let you choose the music, laughed at all your dumb jokes, and agreed to play the road trip games you suggested. You’d already made a firm rule not to compare Jimin to any past boyfriends but couldn’t help but note this as an improvement over anyone prior.

The sole reason the twenty-four hours were also painful was because you stopped at a hotel halfway through. It was either this or drive until 3:00 AM, so you chose the smarter option and rested for the night. You and Jimin bought separate bedrooms, but they’d ended up next to one another, so you’d been forced to spend a sleepless night imagining Jimin separated from you only by a thin sheet of plywood.

You had told yourself this was silly. At Russet, Jimin hadn’t been much further away, but something about the closeness in the hotel made you nervous. It was infinitely easier to forget about boundaries when you were separated by only a car console for hours at a time. Infinitely easier to forget the rules when you were outside of Russet, cocooned by his car and the snow.

You couldn’t help but think about the one kiss you’d shared.

That had only been a taste, barely a teaser, but the memory kept you awake for more nights than it probably should have. You couldn’t help but wonder what it’d be like to kiss Jimin again, under different circumstances.

Groaning, you’d covered your face with a pillow that night and tried your best to sleep. It hadn’t really worked, and you’d shown up at the car the next morning with dark shadows beneath your eyes.

Forcing yourself back to the present, you glanced away from your phone and focused on the tree – only to see its screen light up in your peripheral. Grabbing your phone, you realized Jimin had texted. Stifling a smile, you scrolled through the conversation until you found his last message.

Jimin: MERRY CHRISTMAS! [10:23 AM]

Jimin: 

Y/N: oh my god everything’s so... coordinated lol how long did that tree take to set up?  [10:24 AM]

Y/N: and merry Christmas 😊  [10:24 AM]

Jimin: not long at all. I just googled ‘christmas trees’ and that was the first one I found  [10:24 AM]

Y/N: ha ha hilarious  [10:25 AM]

Y/N: so, what are the Park family plans for the day?  [10:25 AM]

Jimin: the usual. Opening presents, going to my grandparents later for dinner. What about you?  [10:25 AM]

Y/N: same, minus the grandparents. We usually have a pretty low-key day  [10:26 AM]

Jimin: sounds nice  [10:26 AM]

Jimin: what’s your favorite present so far  [10:27 AM]

Y/N: 

Jimin: LOL  [10:30 AM]

Jimin: how many of them did you get? I’ve gotten two new dance bags and seven pairs of black leggings. It’s like our parents have forgotten we do anything else  [10:31 AM]

Y/N: no new dance belts? 😈  [10:32 AM]

Jimin: Y/N, I’m shocked  [10:35 AM]

Jimin: mind out of the gutter. Stop thinking about my junk  [10:35 AM]

Y/N: as your dance partner, I have a vested interest in your junk. What if it breaks free in the middle of practice?  [10:38 AM]

Jimin: the more delicate ladies would faint, I imagine  [10:41 AM]

Jimin: and probably Paulo  [10:41 AM]

Y/N: lmao  [10:43 AM]

Y/N: but seriously, I hope you get presents other than dance gear  [10:43 AM]

Jimin: back at you haha  [10:47 AM]

Y/N: I can’t help but notice you didn’t get me, your dance partner, a Christmas gift though  [10:50 AM]

Jimin: was the drive home not enough?  [10:50 AM]

Y/N: oh, shoot. You’re right! You did get me a Christmas gift  [10:51 AM]

Y/N: I’m the one who’s been remiss  [10:51 AM]

Jimin: don’t forget about my housewarming gift, too  [10:52 AM]

You smiled, sitting back on the sofa. Jimin was lucky enough to be moving off campus second semester. He, Hoseok and Alex Wong were moving into an apartment not far from Paulo’s. You and Noelle had decided to stay in Grace Hall, but you’d talked about moving someplace else next year.

Jimin was heading back early to move into his new place, so you’d need a different ride on your return trip to Russet. Still, you were looking forward to Jimin’s apartment hosting parties in the new year.

Y/N: don’t get greedy on me now, Park  [10:54 AM]

“Who’re you texting?”

Jerking your head up from the screen, you nearly dropped your phone. From the couch opposite, your mom gave you a knowing look.

“No one,” you said hastily, setting your phone aside.

“Oh, really?” She glanced with your dad. “No one wouldn’t happen to have dark hair, his own car and excellent table manners, would he?”

Immediately, you felt your face heat.

When Jimin drove you home before Christmas, your parents had insisted on feeding him before he continued to Harleigh Heights. This had led to the weirdest double date of your life – which was, in fact, not a date – including you, Jimin and your parents for dinner. Luckily, your parents had been great and Jimin hadn’t cared, but you’d been endlessly mortified for your first date with Jimin to have included your parents.

Not that you’d called it a date. When Jimin had left that night, you’d brushed it aside and he’d simply gone along with it. After Jimin had left, you’d gone to your room and wondered what the hell you were doing. It was clear you still liked Jimin and wanted to be more than just friends. Still, something continued to hold you back.

You weren’t sure when it was considered appropriate to move on. The line seemed fuzzy, so you hadn’t dared cross it and Jimin hadn’t asked. You got the feeling you needed to be the one to make the first move – which made sense. You’d been the one who asked for more time. You’d told Jimin you’d say when you were ready.

Any next steps would have to come from you.

It had been weird to go home and not see Finn. His house was only fifteen minutes away from yours – you’d driven past it on your way to the grocery store last week. Still, seeing his home hadn’t caused the pain you’d expected. It was strange not to see him, but more like you’d forgotten something you needed to do, as opposed to missing his actual presence.

If you were being honest, Finn had crossed your mind less and less lately. Possibly because you’d been falling out of love with him long before you’d broken up in November.

Still, it would be unfair to jump into something before you were ready. You’d already hurt Jimin once this past fall and were determined not to do so again. No matter how good things had been lately between you, you didn’t want to make the mistake of dating Jimin too soon.

Despite this, things had become flirtier between you as of late. Exhibit A: casual text conversations about Park Jimin’s junk.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said lightly.

Your dad laughed as he stood from the couch. “Alright, then,” he said, grabbing another gift. “How about you open this one next?”

Accepting the thin package he handed over, you frowned. The box wasn’t large and, shaking it slowly, you heard no sliding inside.

“I swear,” you said as you began to undo the bow. “If you wrapped your passport photo again, dad...”

Laughing, he settled back on the couch by your mom. “It’s not that, I promise.”

Grumbling, you opened the box and immediately froze. Staring at the paper inside, you slowly looked up. “Is this… is this what I think it is?”

“It’s a plane flight,” your mom said with a smile. “I know we’re supposed to drive you back on the third, but we thought you might want to celebrate New Year’s with your friends.”

“But…” Speechless, you returned to the box. “We always hang out together on New Year’s Eve.”

“I know,” said your dad. “But maybe it’s time to start some new traditions, kiddo.”

With that, he stood and took his mug to the kitchen. Sensing he wasn’t needed for this conversation any longer, he began washing dishes and to prepare breakfast. Once he was gone, your mom moved to your couch and settled beside you.

“I… this is too much,” you said, immediately backpedaling.

“It’s not.”

“Well…” Hesitant, you considered the possibilities. “I guess Ari will be in the city for New Year’s Eve. Maybe Noelle, too. She mentioned she might go back early.”

Gently, your mom smiled. “That’s great if you want to hang out with them, but… didn’t Jimin mention going back before New Year’s?”

Startled, you glanced up. You were surprised she’d remembered. Jimin had mentioned it briefly at dinner last week – he’d said he was moving off campus, which was why he’d needed to return home to pack.

“I – he might have,” you said cautiously.

“I see.” She paused. “I just… I don’t want you feeling like you need to hold yourself back, honey.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Your mom glanced meaningfully at your phone. “I’m glad you’re taking time to yourself,” she said slowly. “It’s important to know who you are and what you want. But also – don’t feel like you need to follow someone else’s timeline when it comes to moving on.”

“I know, but…” You trailed off. “We only broke up in November.”

She shrugged. “Only you know when you’re ready, honey. I just don’t want you to keep punishing yourself for something that’s over. You’re allowed to be happy, even if you’ve messed up in the past.”

Swallowing, you glanced again at the gift. The plane ticket was for the day before New Year’s Eve. Plucking it from the box, you sat back on the couch.

“But…” you said lowly. “Mom, it’s only been two months.”

“And are you still in love with Finn?”

“No.”

“And did you learn anything from what happened this fall?”

“I… Yes. A lot.”

“Good.” Reaching out, she squeezed your hand. “Learn the lessons you need to learn, and then move on. Self-flagellation isn’t productive, Y/N.”

You nodded, still uncertain about what she was saying. Her words made sense, but everything she was saying uncovered a dormant fear. You were scared. Scared of hurting someone else, scared of being hurt by someone else in return. Your last relationship had ended so badly, it was hard to convince yourself it might be worth it to try again.

Finally, you turned to face her on the couch. “Does it ever get any easier?” you asked. “This fear of being hurt… does it ever go away?”

Something sad passed over her face. “Yes and no,” she said, pulling back her hand. “You’ll never be as innocent as you were in your first love. There’s something special about loving someone and never having been hurt before. Once you’ve gone through that kind of pain, you aren’t the same after. But… it does get easier. And better. You’ll know more about how to support this time, instead of tearing down. How to make a love stronger, instead of hanging on.”

Something about this speech gave you comfort, and you slowly nodded. Again, what she said made sense but if there was one thing you’d learned from the fall, it was no matter how great the advice was, it was impossible to take if you weren’t ready to hear it.

You continued wondering if the risk would be worth it. No matter how much you felt for Jimin, you couldn’t help but remember how you’d felt breaking up with Finn. You hadn’t been in love with him at that point and it had still been so painful. It was terrifying to imagine loving someone again and having things end the same way.

Your mom was right, though. You couldn’t keep punishing yourself for something you couldn’t change. There were several ways you could move on from here. The main question to ask yourself was whether you wanted Jimin in the picture.

“Alright,” you said softly. “Thanks, mom.”

“Anytime.” Smiling, she stood and dusted off her pants. “I’m going to see if your dad needs help making breakfast. Don’t be too long, now!”

You nodded, watching her go, and then glanced at the ticket. Your mom’s words continued to run through your mind and after a moment, you picked up your phone.

Jimin had texted back.

Jimin: I would never!  [10:57 AM]

Y/N: hey, so  [11:01 AM]

Y/N: I did get one non-dance gift this year. A plane flight the day before New Year’s Eve  [11:02 AM]

Jimin: oh, wow! That was really nice of your parents  [11:03 AM]

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes. When you opened them, you found yourself newly determined.

Y/N: when do you get back again?  [11:03 AM]

His ellipses started, then stopped, then started again.

Jimin: December 28th  [11:04 AM] 

Y/N: what are your New Year’s Eve plans?  [11:04 AM]

For a moment, he didn’t respond, and you felt your heart catch. Maybe you’d misread things. Maybe Jimin had moved on and didn’t care about you anymore. Maybe he didn’t want you to tell him you were ready.

Jimin: I’m free 😊  [11:05 AM]

Jimin: want to be my New Year’s Eve date?  [11:05 AM]

Smiling ear to ear, you responded.

Y/N: yes. Please  [11:06 AM]

On the actual day of New Year’s Eve, you found yourself stressed beyond belief. Standing in front of the mirror of your dorm room, you adjusted your dress and worried over the hemline. Jimin had arranged to meet you around 7:00 PM and it was dangerously close to 6:55.

“Is the dress too short?” you asked, turning a little to face Noelle. “It is New Year’s Eve in the city. Should I wear pants, or something? Will I be cold?”

Noelle considered, then shrugged. “Just drink more. Problem solved!”

Snorting, you turned back to the mirror. Nervously, you smoothed down the front of your dress. You’d bought it at an after-Christmas sale and had fallen instantly in love. It had seemed perfect at the time, but now you were having second thoughts about the thin straps and tight bodice.

“Alright, so Y/N.” Noelle changed the subject. “Here’s the plan. Are you listening?”

Hiding a smile, you adjusted an earring. “Listening.”

“Good. Okay, so Ari and I will be at a party uptown. If the date goes badly, just say the word and we’ll call you a cab. You can be ringing in the new year with us within the hour.”

“Perfect,” you said. “It’s good to have a back-up.”

“It is.” Noelle paused. “Not that I think you’ll need this, of course.”

“Well, you never know.”

“Please.” She snorted. “What’s Jimin going to do? Be too charming? Too respectful of boundaries? Wear pants that show off his ass a little too much?”

“Noelle!”

She laughed, coming to a stop alongside you. Noelle wore a sparkly dress which made her skin glow, although this may have been the glitter dusted over her shoulders. Looking at herself in the mirror, she fluffed her hair.

“Seriously,” she said, meeting your gaze. “You’re going to be fine.”

“I know, I know.” Shaking out your arms, you forced yourself to exhale. “I’m just nervous, that’s all. It’s been a long time since I went on a first date.”

Noelle considered. “That’s true. Allow me to give you some dating tips, then.”

Laughing, you turned around and sat on the futon. “By all means.”

“Alright – number one.” Noelle removed lipstick from her purse. “Don’t order anything with garlic. I know, that sucks because garlic is everything, but no one wants to make out while they have garlic breath. Rule number two!”

“Whoa, whoa,” you said. “Who said anything about making out?”

Noelle gave you a pointed look. “Just in case it should happen…”

Shaking your head, you sunk back on the futon, but you knew she was right. Tonight was New Year’s Eve, after all. Ideally, you’d like to do more than kiss Jimin, but this seemed like too much of a jinx to say out loud.

Mentally, you agreed to the ‘no garlic’ rule.

“What else?” you prompted.

“Let’s see.” Noelle began to reapply her lipstick. “Relax.”

“What?”

Glancing at you in the mirror, she raised both brows. “I can see your shoulders tensing from here, babe. Just relax, okay? Tonight will be fine. You’re just hanging out with Jimin. You’ve done that before.”

“I know,” you groaned, lowering your face to your hands. “For some reason though, I’m very aware of the ‘date’ aspect of tonight. I don’t know why.”

When you looked up, Noelle gave you a sympathetic look, but before she could say more there came a knock at the door. Half-standing, you moved to open it, but Noelle shooed you back.

“Rule number three,” she said as she crossed the room. “Never answer the door for your own date.”

“What?” you laughed, although you sat back down on the futon.

Grabbing the handle, Noelle pulled open the door. Blocking you from view, she leaned her shoulder against the frame.

“Password?”

“What?” came Jimin’s voice, sounding confused.

“That’s correct!” Noelle stepped aside.

As you stood, you saw Jimin for the first time. He wore a pea coat over his outfit, his dark hair pushed back from his face in a devastating manner. When he saw you, Jimin froze, and you saw his eyes widen.

Silently, you congratulated yourself on having picked the right outfit. His gaze slowly trailed your body, lingering in places which made your cheeks heat. When he returned to your face, he slowly exhaled.

“Hey,” he said. “You… you look beautiful.”

Smiling back, you found yourself at a loss for words. “So do you.”

Jimin grinned and you stood there, smiling at each other like idiots until Noelle cleared her throat.

“Well,” she said, side-stepping Jimin to grab her coat. “I’m going to head over to Ari’s. You kids be safe, okay?”

“We will,” you laughed.

Noelle left in a flurry of kisses and glitter, waving goodbye as she stepped out the door. Jimin turned to face you once she was gone, offering a smile.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked. “I brought you these.”

From behind his back, he pulled out pink peonies, which made you gasp. They were your favorites, a little limp from the cold, but still beautiful. Taking them gently from him, you turned them over in your hands.

“They’re wonderful,” you said happily. “Thank you.”

Jimin smiled. “I’m glad you like them.”

Glancing around, you found a clean glass near the sink and filled this with water. Arranging the peonies on your desk, you took a step back and cocked your head. You’d always thought the idea of flowers on dates was kind of cheesy, but now that you’d experienced it in person, it seemed unimaginably sweet.

“There,” you said, turning back. “All set.”

Jimin smiled at this, then glanced at your bare arms. “You’re going to be cold without a coat,” he said. “That’d be a bad way to start off the new year.”

“Oh – duh,” you said, hurrying towards your wardrobe.

Pulling a coat out, you slipped this over your dress and buttoned the front. As you left the room, you turned off the lights and shut the door behind you. Jimin walked with you down the hall, continually glancing your way from the corner of his eyes.

You felt oddly shy, despite this being Jimin beside you. Jimin, who you’d known since you were teenagers. Jimin, who’d been both the utter bane of your existence, along with the single person you trusted most in the world. He’d tossed you up in the air and caught you no question and somehow, this felt like the most daring thing you’d ever done.

It was strange to walk beside him, out on a date whose future held a large question mark. Excitement and uncertainty warred in your stomach, which only seemed to exacerbate the situation. You felt as though you stood on the edge of a precipice, staring into a ravine with no discernable bottom.

As you left the building, snowflakes swirled in the sky up above and you looked up in surprise.

“Oh,” you exhaled, breath frosting before you. “I didn’t realize it was snowing!”

“Yeah.” Jimin grinned, tilting back his head. “Snow is my favorite weather, actually.”

“The wet and the cold does it that much for you, huh, Park?”

“That, and the romance of it all.”

Your smile softened a little as you fell into step alongside him. The snow continued to drift as you walked, melting as soon as it touched the pavement.

“So, where are we going?” you wondered, glancing at him. “You said you’d tell me once you picked me up and I’ve got news for you, Jimin. I’m here. I’ve been picked up.”

“Right, sure.” He shoved both hands in his pockets. “I made a reservation at this restaurant around the corner. The food’s really good so I hope you’ll like it.”

“I’m sure I will.”

“Huh.” Jimin paused. “That was easy.”

You shrugged. “I’m just excited for tonight. That’s all.”

His gaze softened a little when he glanced at you. “Me, too.”

Smiling, you continued to walk alongside him. New Year’s Eve in the city was a grand affair. The sidewalks were still lit with holiday lights, people hurrying past in brightly colored coats. Privately, you were glad Jimin had made a reservation at a restaurant instead of trying to brave a club or a bar. You’d heard horror stories from people who paid extravagantly to get into a club, only to spend the entire night waiting in line at the bar.

Turning the corner, you saw the restaurant Jimin had chosen and brightened. It was one you’d walked past several times and always wanted to try but had never found time.

Jimin held open the door as you entered. The inside still had their holiday decorations up, garland strung across every surface with tiny, white fairy lights hung up above. Everyone who was dining wore formal attire, laughing and chatting in the glow of the fireplace. The food smelled amazing and immediately, your mouth watered.

Joining the line at the hostess stand, you waited for the couple before you to leave and then Jimin stepped up.

“Park,” he told her. “Party of two.”

The hostess smiled, nodding as she flipped through her notebook. “One moment, please.” The longer she looked though, the more her face fell. After a moment, she glanced up. “Park, you said?”

“Yes.” Jimin nodded. “P-a-r-k.”

The woman nodded, flipping through her notebook again as though the name might magically appear.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, glancing up again. “There seems to be some kind of mistake. I don’t have you listed as a reservation.”

Jimin’s expression faltered. “Can you look again?” he asked, leaning forward.

The hostess nodded, running her finger down the numbered rows. “I can’t find you anywhere. Do you remember who you spoke with on the phone?”

“Rebecca.”

“Oh.” Her face immediately fell. “Rebecca left the restaurant last week. It seems a few reservations slipped through in the transition. Is there… well, before I do that – let me see what I can do,” she blurted out, turning around to rush into the restaurant.

Jimin watched her disappear and you saw his expression tighten.

Silence fell between you as you adjusted your coat. Jimin looked stressed and you weren’t sure what you should do about it. Frantically, you tried to remember times he’d been stressed during class, but before you could do or say anything, the hostess returned.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, looking harried. “The restaurant is completely booked up. I was trying to see if we could squeeze you in, but there’s just no room. I’m so sorry. Normally, only one person does the reservations, but we’ve been so busy lately...”

“It’s fine,” you said, jumping in. The poor woman looked like she was about to burst into tears. “Please, don’t worry about it. We’ll figure something out.”

Jimin glanced at you, surprised, and then nodded. “Yeah,” he agreed, returning to the hostess. “Thank you so much for your help – I appreciate you trying. We actually have a back-up reservation somewhere else, so don’t worry. We’ll come back another time!”

“Oh, really?” Her entire face brightened. “That’s so good to hear. New Year’s Eve, and all. Thank you for being understanding!”

“Yes, busy night,” Jimin said with a smile. “Take care of yourself!”

The woman nodded, seeming grateful when you stepped out of line. Jimin followed your footsteps, heading towards the door and then came to a stop. Slowly, he exhaled.

“So,” you said, turning to face him. “Where are these back-up reservations?”

Jimin winced and met your gaze. “I have none,” he admitted. “She just looked so sad. I wanted to put her out of her misery.”

“Wait.” Piecing this together, you paused. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” he said miserably. “I only made reservations here and that was super lucky, considering most places in the city have been booked for weeks. I don’t have any back-up plans.”

For a moment, you could only stare. “So, you said all that just so that poor hostess wouldn’t worry about a mistake her restaurant made?”

“I – well, yeah.”

You stared another moment, then started to laugh. It started out small but grew until eventually, you were wiping tears of mirth from your eyes.

Jimin watched you laugh, seeming thoroughly confused. “What’s so funny?”

“It’s just…” Shaking your head, you paused to catch your breath. “You’re unreal. Most people would be super stressed about New Year’s Eve plans falling through, but here you are lying to make a hostess’ night better.”

He blinked, still uncertain. “I’m… sorry about that.”

“Don’t apologize!” you insisted as you straightened. “It’s… wonderful,” you said to him shyly. “I like that about you.”

Slowly, his expression changed. “I really don’t have other plans, though,” he admitted. “I wasn’t lying about that. And I am stressed about my reservation falling through. I wanted this night to be perfect.”

The sweetness of this made your heart start to melt and newly determined, you nodded.

“We can fix this,” you said. “We’ll just go somewhere else.”

“Like where?”

“Like...” You paused. “We could hang out at my dorm. Or at your apartment! One of our kitchens has to be free, right? We could make dinner and hang out, watch the ball drop.”

“We could go to my place,” said Jimin slowly. “Hoseok and Alex are at a New Year’s Eve party uptown. We’d have the kitchen to ourselves.”

“Perfect,” you said. “Let’s go there.”

“I should warn you, though – I can only really cook one thing.”

“Spaghetti-o’s?”

“Okay, two things.”

You laughed. “So, what’s the first thing?”

“A pasta dish they taught us in Senior Foods class. But it’s nothing fancy.”

“Perfect.” You shrugged. “That will go nicely with my contribution of store-bought bread and olive oil.”

Jimin started to grin. “Alright, then, it’s settled. Let’s go to my place.”

You smiled when he opened the door, following him onto the sidewalk. Jimin’s new apartment was a few blocks away, but time passed quickly with him beside you. Oddly enough, the mishap at the restaurant seemed to have cleared some of the lingering awkwardness.

Noelle had been right, you realized – you had nothing to worry about while you were with Jimin.

He talked while you walked, detailing the ongoing fight at his apartment about some posters Hoseok wanted to hang. This segued into the general ridiculousness of New Year’s Eve – a topic you wholeheartedly agreed with.

“It’s stressful,” Jimin complained as you walked. “Everyone’s always asking about your resolution, you need to find someone to kiss at midnight, and there’s that super awkward moment with the countdown and your date…”

You laughed, grabbing a basket as you entered the grocery store. Jimin had suggested you stop by, since he didn’t have much food at his place.

“Doesn’t the countdown make it easier?” you joked. “It really dumbs the whole process down. Fool-proof.”

“Well, sure,” Jimin said. “But then you end up staring awkwardly at someone for ten seconds while you slowly lean forward and wonder when you should blink.”

Laughing, you reached on tiptoe for a loaf of bread. “Alright, you got me there,” you admitted. “I’ve never had a proper New Year’s Eve, anyways. I’ve always been dating someone and then, it’s just kind of assumed you’ll kiss. None of the magic you see in the movies.”

Jimin nodded. “Most of that’s just movie magic, though. You aren’t missing much – trust me.”

“I don’t know,” you said as you turned the next corner. “The anticipation sounds kind of nice. Wondering if someone will kiss you back, if they’re thinking about you the same way you are…”

Jimin made a humming noise, low in his throat.

Coming to a stop, he reached overhead to grab some pasta. Putting this in your basket, Jimin casually brushed your arm as you met his faze. Fighting back a shiver, you tried to remember what you’d been saying.

Giving a smile, Jimin continued forward and kept shopping. You stared after him a moment before your gaze dropped to his ass. Inhaling quickly, you remembered Noelle’s comment about Jimin’s tight pants. She hadn’t been wrong about that. Hurrying along, you quickly caught up.

Grabbing another jar, Jimin placed this in the basket. When he caught your eye again, he grinned, his hair falling forward. The sight made your heart flip-flop in your chest.

As you entered the check-out line, Jimin came to a stop alongside you. His gaze traveled the store, eyes widening when he glanced over your shoulder.

“What’s that?” Jimin gasped.

Startled, you turned. “What’s – hey!” you blurted when he took your basket.

Grinning widely, Jimin placed the food before the cashier. “Too slow.”

“Jimin, come on,” you said, slightly flustered. “I can pay. I –”

“You can pay next time, if you want.”

This shut you up and you stared at him a moment before you stepped forward.

“There’s… going to be a next time?” you said.

Jimin glanced in your direction. “If you want there to be.”

“I do,” you said softly, and he smiled.

Taking another step forward, he pulled out his wallet to pay and you let him – this time, anyways. Outside, it seemed to have grown colder since your arrival and you shivered as you exited the shop. Noticing this, Jimin immediately undid his scarf from around his neck.

“Here,” he said, handing it over. “I don’t need this.”

“But then you’ll be cold,” you pointed out, accepting it anyways.

“I’ll jog in place to keep warm.”

“… With me walking beside you?”

“Yep.”

You laughed, even more so when Jimin began to demonstrate. He jogged for a few steps, then slowed to a walk.

“Changed my mind,” he said with a wince. “I’d rather be cold.”

You laughed, cheeks starting to hurt from both this and the wind. Jimin’s apartment wasn’t far, although it did turn out to be a third-floor walk-up. This left you slightly winded when you arrived at his place, to which Jimin shrugged and said the rent had been cheap.

Opening his front door, he led the way into – boxes. Tons of them, although most of the furniture had been set up around them. Jimin fumbled for a light, flicking this on and setting down the groceries.

“Most of the boxes are Alex’s,” he sighed, looking around. “Hoseok and I have a secret deal we’re going to unpack him ourselves if he doesn’t do it by Monday.”

“That doesn’t sound like much of a detriment to Alex.”

“I never said what we planned on doing with his things once we unpacked.”

You laughed, undoing your coat to set aside. Glancing around, you saw Jimin was right. Most of the boxes were scrawled in the same handwriting. Beyond them, you saw the living room had been mostly set up with a couch and TV.

To your right lay the kitchen, in which Jimin was already unloading the groceries. Beyond him was a hallway, through which you assumed were their bedrooms and bathrooms. Wandering back to Jimin, you realized he was staring.

“What?” you said, coming to a stop. “Did I spill something on my dress in the store?”

“No,” Jimin murmured, shaking his head. “I just… I know I said this before, but you really do look incredible.”

“Oh.”

Looking at him, you felt your face growing hot. Jimin smiled and ducked his head, resumed pulling things out of the bag. Stepping from your shoes to place in the hall, you returned to the kitchen and pulled out a stool.

Sitting down, you propped your chin in your hand. “Aren’t you going to take off your coat?”

Glancing down, Jimin blinked. “Oh,” he laughed, undoing the buttons. “I forgot I was wearing it.”

You smiled, but this quickly disappeared when you saw what he was wearing. Jimin had worn a dark blazer and trousers, paired with a paisley shirt and black boots. He looked ridiculously good and again, Noelle’s comment about his ass came to mind.

She’d been correct – his pants were well-shaped and well-formed.

After removing both coat and shoes, Jimin returned to the kitchen and pushed a hand through his hair. You watched him get to work, leaning forward a bit when he began to dice vegetables. Immediately, your brows raised. It seemed Jimin had undersold his skills in the kitchen.

When you said as much, he laughed.

“Maybe a little,” Jimin said. As he pushed veggies from the cutting board, the pan began to sizzle. “It’s all part of my master plan. Set expectations low, then over-deliver.”

“It’s working,” you said with a laugh. “You seem pretty damn impressive to me.”

Jimin’s cheeks reddened. “You’re just saying that.”

“Why would I lie?”

“I seem to remember some shocking texts about my junk and dancer’s belts. You could just be after my body, Y/N.”

“I – that’s not!”

He looked up and grinned. “Kidding.”

Flustered, you blurted, “That wasn’t nice!”

Jimin laughed. “I’m sorry.”

You huffed, waiting a minute before you continued. “You do look really good right now, though,” you said softly.

He looked up, eyes wide. As much as Jimin said he enjoyed being liked, it seemed to throw him for a loop whenever you said you liked him. It made you pause, mulling over this for a minute.

“You seem surprised,” you said quietly. “Whenever I say things like that, you always look surprised.”

“Well…” Jimin hesitated. “I just think… there’s been a lot of times where I never thought this would happen. It feels kind of unreal have you here. In my kitchen. On a date.”

“Times after November?”

Jimin paused.

Your brow furrowed. “Before then?”

Opening the pasta, Jimin added this to the pot. He stared into the steam, slowly exhaling before he looked up.

“Let’s just say I’ve wanted this for a while,” he admitted.

“What? But you hated me before Russet.”

“I…” Jimin trailed off. “Kind of. It’s complicated.”

When he failed to elaborate and returned to his cooking, your eyebrows shot up.

“Uh, no,” you laughed. “You can’t just say that and not explain what you mean. What are you talking about?”

Jimin winced as he set down his spoon. “Okay,” he said, gripping the counter. “I guess what I’m saying is I never really hated you. Not truly.”

“You didn’t.”

“No.” He spoke flatly.

“But…” Confused, you searched his face. “You’ve hated me ever since we met, Jimin. That first weekend at NUVO dance competition. We were both called out to demonstrate and you tripped me!”

“Well, maybe that’s not exactly what happened.”

“What are you talking about?”

Jimin released a low breath. “Okay, so here’s the thing. That weekend happened a little differently from my perspective.”

“How so?”

“We were both called out to demonstrate,” he said, repeating your words. “But I hadn’t seen you before then. When we both reached center and I turned and saw you – I froze. I couldn’t remember how to act. Every thought I’d ever had just… flew out of my head.”

You stared at him, speechless.

“I didn’t know what to do,” Jimin continued softly. “I’d never felt like that before. When you started to dance, it only got worse. I’d never seen someone dance like you did. That’s why I entered the combination late. That’s why I was in the wrong spot at the wrong time and that’s why I accidentally tripped you. I was… well, I was distracted.”

“By me,” you whispered. “You were distracted by… me?”

“Yeah.”

“So,” you said, breath catching. “This entire time, you haven’t really hated me?”

“Ah, I don’t know about that.” Jimin rubbed the back of his neck. “You could be really infuriating,” he said with a laugh. “There were times when you genuinely pissed me off. I meant it when I said I wanted to win against you. But also… I don’t know. I never really forgot the first time I saw you.”

“Oh,” you whispered, unsure what you were feeling.

It made your head spin to hear this different version of events. Jimin hadn’t hated you – at least, not in the same way you had. He hadn’t been the one to make the first move after all. You had when you’d decided not to listen to his apology.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, burying your face in your hands.

“Hey – what’s wrong?”

Dropping his spoon to the counter, Jimin came around and stood beside you. Keeping your head down, you refused to look up until Jimin touched your arm.

“I just,” you exhaled, turning to face him. “It was my fault. This entire time, I thought you hated me and that’s why I hated you. But instead, I just decided to hate you – and for what?”

Jimin’s upper lip twitched. “I wasn’t entirely blameless, you know. I was such a little shit at that age. I wouldn’t have believed me, either.”

“You tried to apologize, though!”

“Hey.” Gently, he gripped your elbows. “If it makes you feel any better, I did trip people just to get to the front. I was an ass. It’s why that Jungkook guy hates me. I started dancing later in life, so I was really hung up on proving myself.”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t true,” you told him. “You didn’t trip me on purpose, and if I’d only been less stubborn –”

“Whoa, hey.” Jimin smiled. “You weren’t the only stubborn one. Maybe it started off as a misunderstanding, but I didn’t really fight it. You were my competition as much as I was yours.”

“I guess,” you said quietly. “I just… I feel like I wasted so much time hating you. Maybe we could’ve even been friends.”

His gaze sparked. “Just friends?” he asked with a quirk of his brow.

“Jimin,” you groaned, but started to smile.

“Listen.” Expression softening, Jimin moved closer. “Even if I had decided to explain all this in high school, would you have believed me?”

“Probably not.”

“Exactly. I was a dick back then.” He nodded. “Remember that one time I lied and told you the awards ceremony had been pushed back an hour?”

Sitting up straighter, you glared. “Oh, I remember. I showed up after they’d already taken the photo for Top Junior solos.”

Jimin grinned. “Or the time I put an out of order sign on the women's restroom after your solo at BRAVO, so you had to run all the way across the auditorium?”

“That was you!” you blurted out, wide-eyed. “No one would believe me when I said it was! Every girl was so pissed off at you that weekend.”

“Which is exactly why I could never admit it was me!”

In disbelief, you shook your head. “You did all of that just to get back at me?”

Jimin’s smile disappeared. “Hey, you weren’t innocent either,” he argued. “Remember the time you spilled an entire water bottle next to my bag so that when I sat down, my ass got all wet?”

Devious, you smiled. “Honestly, there was kind of an ulterior motive there. As much as I hated you, your ass looks great in damp sweats.”

Jimin’s jaw dropped a little.

Managing to shut this, he took a casual step forward. “Is that what you thought?” he murmured, barely able to conceal the thickness in his voice.

“I… may have noticed a few things about you.”

When he placed a hand next to you on the counter, your breath hitched in response. Jimin repeated this with his other hand, bringing his body a step closer to yours.

Hesitant, his gaze roamed your face. “What else did you notice?”

“I…” you exhaled and glanced at his lips.

The air between you could have been cut with a knife, heated for a different reason than the stove beside you. Which – eyes widening, you glanced over.

“Shit!” you blurted. “Jimin, the pasta!”

Startled, he looked in the same direction as you and realized the water was boiling. Rushing away, Jimin entered the kitchen and turned down the burner. Now that you were separated by a solid counter, you felt somewhat dazed when you glanced up and saw him.

Meeting your gaze, Jimin came to a stop. “Anyways,” he said softly. “Now, you know. I didn’t trip you on purpose. I never really hated you. And I’m incredibly glad you’re here tonight.”

Watching him speak, something warm bloomed in your chest.

“Me, too,” you whispered.

Smiling, Jimin returned to the pasta and you settled back on the stool. Delicious scents soon filled the kitchen and you realized how truly hungry you were. You hadn’t eaten much at lunch in preparation and by now, you were famished.

It wasn’t long before Jimin placed pasta onto plates, adding the bread you’d cut up on the side. He brought these to his table, disappearing briefly to return with two candles.

“Oo,” you said as you took a seat. “Fancy.”

Jimin lit the one closest to you with a flourish. “We aim to please, here at Park Jimin’s Fine Eating and Dining.”

“Is that the name of your restaurant?”

“It is.”

“And you’re set on that decision?”

“I decided on a whim, but I have no regrets,” Jimin said, taking a seat across from you. “Now, eat before you piss off the chef and he takes back your food.”

Laughing, you dug into the pasta before you. It was delicious and, after the very first bite, you sighed in appreciation. Apparently, Jimin had truly set the bar low. Conversation began to flow, any lingering tension disappeared after talk of your past.

It was the oddest thing. You’d heard stories from friends about other first dates. They worried about how to behave, what to wear, or what to say to their date – but none of these worries seemed to exist for you in the moment. You’d been so concerned before the night began, but now that you were here, all these worries seemed to fly out the window.

You’d thought you’d spend the entire night comparing. Comparing Jimin to your last relationship, comparing Jimin as a date to Jimin as a friend, but instead, it felt like natural progression. It wasn’t a matter of comparing Jimin to anyone else, but rather simply enjoying where the night led.

After dinner, you insisted on helping clean because Jimin had cooked and bought the food. Donning rubber gloves over your dress, you stood at the sink and began to wash dishes. Jimin laughed as he joined, pulling on gloves to dry the dishes beside you. Once this was done, he suggested watching a movie before the ball dropped.

Collapsing onto the sofa, you adjusted your dress and scanned the room. The posters Jimin had bemoaned were now hung over the TV – you wondered if Hoseok had managed to somehow sneak them past his roommates. Small touches here and there made you think of Jimin.

A game he’d mentioned was out on the coffee table and a blanket which smelled like him was draped over a chair. Pulling this towards you, you wrapped it around yourself as Jimin left the kitchen.

Holding two glasses of wine, he paused when he saw you.

“What?” you said, glancing down.

“Nothing.” Jimin cleared his throat. “Are you cold?”

“A little,” you admitted, tugged his blanket closer.

“Shoot.” Jimin frowned. “The heat’s been weird since we moved in. I’m not sure how to fix – oh!” Setting the glasses down, he rushed towards the hall. “Do you want a sweatshirt?” he called.

“Yes, please!”

Jimin reappeared moments later, a navy sweatshirt in hand. Handing this over, he settled beside you on the sofa. He’d ditched his blazer and now, Jimin was dressed in only the paisley shirt and slacks.

Pulling his sweatshirt overhead, you somehow managed to get stuck right away. It was hard not to, with your hair and the dress, trying not to flash him while you kept your legs crossed.

After a moment of watching your undignified struggling, Jimin cleared his throat.

“Need help?”

“Yes, please,” you said weakly.

Jimin laughed, helping you free and once the hoodie was settled, you sighed and leaned back. Glancing sideways at Jimin, you found him already looking at you.

“What do you want to watch?” you asked.

Jimin blinked, then glanced at the TV. “Hm,” he mused, grabbing the remote. “We could watch the ball drop and enjoy the fact that we’re sitting inside, not standing in the freezing cold without any bathrooms.”

“I know!” you said with a shudder. “Out of all the stupid traditions, that’s one I’ll never understand.”

“How do so many people have it on their bucket list?”

“Right? That, and the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. Zero out of ten. It’s cold, there’s wind and again, there’s the question of bathrooms.”

Jimin laughed as he scrolled through the channels. “Alright, so no to the ball drop. Want to watch a movie?”

“Sure.”

“What movie?”

“Why’re you making me pick?” you whined, sinking deeper into his cushions. “That’s such a large amount of pressure.”

“Exactly, which is why I don’t want to do it.”

You laughed and after some back and forth, decided to watch About Time. This was a movie about obstacles and falling in love, which seemed more than fitting because of the new year. At first, you and Jimin were watching diligently but eventually, he asked a question and conversation slowly drifted from the movie.

At some point, Jimin lowered the volume to focus solely on you. You curled deeper into the couch beside him, your thighs somehow touching and shoulders inches apart. Jimin’s head leaned against the cushion and he continued to smile in a way which made your heart flip.

“Here’s a question,” you murmured, no longer pretending to watch the movie.

His eyes gleamed in the darkness. “What?”

“Why’d you tell Sabrina you only wanted to be friends?”

Briefly, his eyes widened. “How did… you know about that?”

“She told me.”

“Hm.” Jimin gave you a dubious look but moved past it. Sabrina had begun hanging out with your friends as of late. “But alright, I’ll answer. If I do though, you need to answer one of my questions. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“So, I was single when I came to Russet.” Jimin paused. “It was the first time in a long time, and I may have hooked up with a couple of people.”

“Hm,” you said tightly.

His eyes danced with amusement. “Jealous?”

“Answer the question.”

He laughed. “Anyways, I only hooked up with Sabrina the one time. Afterwards…” Jimin sighed. “I felt kind of weird about her asking me to switch partners. Then I overheard what she said about Ari at weigh-ins and just didn’t feel like anything more... Plus, there was the other reason.”

“And what was the other reason?”

“I was starting to like you,” he said, a bit softer. “The day you said you wanted to be friends was a giant weight from my chest. And the more relaxed you were around me, the more… I don’t know. The more I liked you, I guess. My mom has always called me her hopeless romantic,” Jimin said with a smile. “I don’t know about that, but I can be single-minded when I like someone. That was part of the reason I told Sabrina we shouldn’t hook up anymore.”

“Oh,” you whispered.

His smile turned lopsided. “Does that answer your question?”

“Yeah. I guess it does.”

“My turn, then.” Smile disappearing, his gaze darkened. “Why did you really call me that night at the club?”

“Oh. That. Well, I –”

“And don’t say it was because I had a car,” Jimin interrupted. “There were a lot of people you could’ve called to help. You didn’t, though. You called me. Why?”

You hesitated before you realized there was only one answer. “I wanted to see you,” you said honestly. “I was scared, I was alone and… you were the person I wanted to see.”

Jimin’s gaze had become nearly black, the air between you thick with something unsaid. You were suddenly conscious of all each part of your body pressed to his. When Jimin shifted on the couch, you moved somehow closer.

He hesitated, then glanced at your mouth. “I don’t…” Jimin licked his lips, sounding hoarse. “I don’t want to do anything you’re not ready for.”

“You won’t,” you told him.

Something uncertain passed over his face. “Maybe we should take things slow.”

“Or,” you said slowly. “I could tell you things I like about you, instead.”

“And what would be the point of that?”

Your gaze shifted to his. “You’ve told me a lot tonight about how much you like me,” you said softly. “About how long you’ve liked me. I think it’s time I returned the favor.”

Something in his gaze cracked and he nodded. The TV in the background was quiet, only the noise from the street and the whoosh of the heater breaking the silence.

“First,” you said, glancing down at his lap. “You have really nice hands.”

Jimin’s lips twitched. “My hands? I’ve always thought they were small.”

“Wrong. They’re the perfect size. Never have they dropped me.”

“Mm, that’s a good point.”

“And your smile,” you said.

“What about it?”

“I like your smile,” you told him. “It makes me smile.”

His eyes crinkled in demonstration. “Oh, yeah?”

“And your ears.”

Jimin laughed. “My ears?”

Reaching out, you delicately traced over an edge. “I’ve spent a long time looking at your profile, Park. I know what I’m talking about here.”

As your fingers moved lower, feather-light down his jaw, Jimin’s smile disappeared.

“I like your jaw, too,” you told him.

In the darkness, his gaze glinted, and you felt his jaw tense.

“And your lips,” you added, gaze lowering. “I like those a lot.”

“Y/N…” Jimin’s eyes fluttered shut.

“Yeah?”

He slowly exhaled. “I just don’t want you to regret this.”

“Jimin.”

He opened his eyes.

Your expression was serious. “I told you I wouldn’t jump into something before I was ready,” you said, lifting your other hand. “But I’m not in love with Finn anymore. It doesn’t hurt when I think about what happened last semester. I like you, Jimin. I want you. I don’t want to keep pushing you away. I get if you’re unsure about this, though. If you’re unsure about me.”

Jimin’s gaze roamed your face. “Unsure?”

“I know I hurt you before. I shouldn’t have kissed you and ran away. But I promise this isn’t like that. I’m not running away. I’m the furthest thing from running and I –”

Cutting you off, Jimin pressed his lips to yours.

You shuddered a little, leaning into his kiss before he pulled back. Jimin exhaled, barely a breath before he kissed you again.

Noses brushing, lips lingering, the kiss slowly deepened. Your hands curled into his hair, pulling him forward to bask in his warmth. It was dizzying, how different this felt than last time. Last time you’d been heartbroken, desperately yearning each time your lips had touched.

Now, Jimin felt like air, like sunshine as you drowned in his presence. Hand grasping your waist, Jimin moved you closer so your chest nestled to his. Lifting his fingers, his touch skimmed your jaw, your hairline before he circled the nape of your neck.

Drawing away, he bit down on your lip. With a low sort of moan, Jimin sought your lips again. When his mouth opened yours, his tongue swept forward and you nearly combusted.

This was only to tease, though. Only to taste before he pulled away, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. Thumb skimming your jawline, Jimin tilted your head back to brush a kiss to your throat. Moving higher, he worshiped a slow path up the column of your neck. At your ear, he nipped gently before he returned.

Now, his kisses began to deepen. Mouths opening, your tongues brushed only briefly before he chose to withdraw. You were glad you were kissing on the couch, because suddenly your own legs felt weak underneath you.

Hand re-gripping his waist, Jimin pulled you against him. Eager, your hands found his neck and the blanket dropped to the floor. It wasn’t enough, though – you needed more, wanted to feel him fully beneath you. Rising on your knees, you swung a leg over his lap and settled on top.

Jimin hissed, his head hitting the back of his couch. Your dress had ridden up in the process, exposing your thighs – his thumbs skimmed the surface before he looked up.

“Shit,” Jimin croaked.

Smiling, you bent to kiss him again. Jimin arched upwards, each part of your body electric where you touched. He shifted his hips, granting friction and heat which made you short-circuit. Pressing yourself closer, your thighs sild backwards until they nestled around his waist.

Jimin’s hand found your spine, pulling you closer as his hips pushed upwards. You groaned when you felt him shift underneath you. The kisses grew steadily hotter, this ache in your core increasing with every touch.

“Can I…” Pulling away, Jimin glanced lower. “Can I take off the sweatshirt?”

“Yeah,” you said, a bit dazed.

Jimin didn’t waste time, helping you pull this swiftly overhead. It was tossed on the ground and when your dress was revealed, he inhaled.

Slipping his hands up your bodice, Jimin met your gaze. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he confessed, his voice hoarse.

“Do what?”

Your breath hitched when his hands skimmed your breasts, lingering in all your softest places.

“Touch you,” Jimin said. “It was torture to see you, to look at you and not be able to do this. Not how I wanted, anyways. I’d tell myself not to think about it, but…”

“Jimin.”

He paused and looked up. “Yes?”

“Touch me. Please.”

Without hesitation, Jimin slid his hands lower. Cupping your ass, he pulled you against him and allowed his other hand to drift up your spine. You shivered, closing your eyes as your head tilted back.

His hands slid up your front, over your breasts and under the straps of your dress. Jimin’s thumbs drifted lower, brushing your nipples through the fabric of your bodice. Opening your eyes, you looked down at him and saw his gaze darken.

Reaching higher, Jimin cupped the back of your neck and returned your lips to his.

He kissed you slowly, purposefully as you melted forward. Shifting against him, the kiss began to intensify. Mouths opening, your tongue swept forward in bold strokes against his. Suppressing a whimper, you ground your hips on his lap.

“Is,” you murmured, breaking free. “Is your bedroom unpacked?”

Jimin went still. “I – mostly, yeah.”

“Can I see it?”

“Fuck, yes,” he groaned, releasing your thighs as he stood from the couch.

You laughed, sliding down his front as your feet hit the ground. Tugging your dress down, you followed Jimin when he grabbed your hand. He pulled you down the hall, coming to a stop at the last room on the row. Pushing open the door, he flicked on the light and came to a stop.

Stepping forward, you glanced around Jimin’s room. You recognized some of the items from the two times you’d visited Jimin in the dorms. Photos of his family were carefully hung on the wall and he had the same pillows laid over his queen-sized bed.

Turning around, you took a step backwards and sat on his bed. “It’s nice,” you said, patting the comforter. “I like it here.”

Jimin watched you, his gaze half-lidded from the hall. “I like you here.”

Cheeks heating, you watched him enter and gently shut the door. Leaning back on your elbows, you arched a brow.

“Where’d we leave off?”

Jimin exhaled as he crossed the room. “I think you were on my lap,” he said hoarsely, kneeling beside you.

You nodded, moving to straddle him as he leaned to the wall. Catching your waist with both hands, Jimin pulled you against him, kissing you roughly even before you sat down. Suddenly ravenous, his hands slid to your ass as he rolled you against him. Inhaling sharply, you sucked his lower lip between teeth as he groaned.

Reaching up, Jimin tugged on your hair as you inhaled, throat exposed for him to kiss slowly down your front. When he returned to your lips, you ground your hips impatiently over the bulge in his pants.

Shifting his weight, Jimin’s spine hit the wall. He stared at you, slightly dazed with his kiss-reddened lips. Without looking away, Jimin lifted his fingers and began undoing his shirt. You stilled, watching each inch of skin be revealed. When he reached the last button, you gave in and helped push this aside. Smiling, Jimin sat up as his shirt fell to the floor.

You weren’t sure where to look first. Hands faltering, you slid them up his abs, over his shoulders and down his biceps. He was so perfect, it almost hurt to look at. Jimin’s breath quickened as you touched him and slowly, he lowered you down to the bed.

“Enough,” he said roughly, returning your lips to his.

As you kissed it turned lazy, nothing but grinding and touching. Jimin’s hair was messy beneath the pull of your fingers. He didn’t seem to mind, his own hands digging into the curve of your thigh. Playing with the hem of your dress, he deftly slid upwards.

“Jimin,” you said, breaking free. “Unzip me.”

His gaze darkened. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Jimin nodded, following suit when you sat up beside him. Turning around, you exposed your back and Jimin began to lower the zipper. He moved slowly, taking his time as his fingers brushed skin. Holding the dress up with your hands, you waited until it was fully unzipped before releasing it to the floor.

Turning around, you found Jimin’s jaw slack.

“You…” He roughly inhaled while he scanned your body. “Lace, Y/N? Really?”

“Do you like it?” you asked.

You may have gone overboard preparing for tonight. Although you hadn’t been sure what would happen, you also hadn’t wanted to be caught off your guard. Tonight, your constant need to plan had come in handy. Beneath your dress you’d worn a crimson lace bra and panties – a matching set which Jimin seemed to like, based on his expression.

“You’re going to kill me,” he muttered, lowering his lips to your neck.

Kissing slowly down your chest, he came to a stop where the two halves joined together. Skimming the length of your torso, his hands trembled a little when he brushed the lace.

Jimin looked up. “I’m sorry I keep touching you,” he murmured. “I just – you’re driving me crazy. You’ve been driving me crazy.”

“You said that before,” you whispered.

“I meant it.”

Kissing again up your body, he lingered in places your skin was exposed. Inhaling, your eyes fluttered shut as you grasped his shoulders.

Jimin’s hand slid between your thighs. “Part them,” he murmured, and you obeyed.

Heart racing, you opened your eyes and watched Jimin drag a finger slowly up the center of your panties. Even you could feel how damp the fabric was, how wet and ready you were for him.

Lifting his finger to his lips, Jimin sucked. “You’re soaking,” he breathed, sounding eager. “So good to me.”

Lowering his head, his tongue flicked your breast. Teasing the nipple through fabric, he urged and he sucked until it was fully erect. Moving onto the next one, Jimin grazed with his teeth until it pressed wantonly into the lace cup of your bra. Moaning his name, you arched against him.

Finding your wrists, Jimin pinned you backwards as he continued. Thighs caging your waist, he kept you hostage with his exquisite torture. The lace of your bra was now drenched, Jimin sucking debauchedly through fabric.

“Jimin,” you groaned, twisting on the sheets. “Please.”

His hips rolled lazily against your center. “Not yet,” he insisted before pulling back. “Not until you make a mess of my sheets. Want to ruin these panties.”

Sliding a hand between your thighs, he lightly circled your entrance. Feeling how wet you were, Jimin softly groaned. Sitting back on his heels, he finally relented and pulled your panties down. Tossing these to the floor, he returned to your thighs and spread your legs.

Lightly, Jimin dragged the pads of his thumbs up and down your panty line. “God, you’re so perfect,” he murmured. “Got my sheets fucking soaked.”

Separating two of his fingers, he slowly dragged his digits up and down your folds. You inhaled, feeling needy while you watched him touch you. Each brush of his fingers had you dripping – teasing over your entrance, he refused to give you exactly what you wanted. Feather-light, Jimin circled your swollen clit with his finger.

Hands gripping the sheets, you could only stare while Jimin brought you closer and closer to the edge. He was barely touching you, but it was the most turned on you’d ever been in your life. Jimin’s thumb swiped over your clit, rubbing you gently as you keened in frustration, arching against him.

He continued like this until you were gasping, begging for more and then – only then – did he slide a finger inside you. Legs trembling, you arched on his mattress and stared at him, glassy-eyed. When Jimin began to move in and out, you lost all control.

Lowering his head, he closed his lips over your clit.

“Oh my god,” you whimpered as you broke apart.

Barely did he suck before you were coming undone, pulsing around his fingers. Shuddering with pleasure, you collapsed on the bed as you rode out your high. Gently, Jimin pulled out his finger and returned to your lips.

Reaching behind you, he undid the clasp of your bra and tossed this on the floor. Once you were fully naked, he pulled you against him. You felt limp, thoroughly sated, but familiar excitement began to stir at his front pressed to yours. Tilting your head, he gently kissed you while your fingers wound in his hair.

Jimin moved slow, letting you take the lead. Your core continued to throb with oversensitivity, although this seemed to lessen the longer you kissed him. Before long, your nipples were hardening as you rubbed against him. Fingers digging into your thigh, Jimin pulled this over his hip to watch you lazily grind.

Realizing he still wore pants, you lowered a hand, determined to fix this. Jimin helped, dragging the zipper down to throw both these and his boxers down on the floor.

He bent to kiss you again, but you placed a hand on his chest. “Wait,” you murmured. “I want to see you.”

Jimin exhaled, leaning back so you could take in his body. If you’d thought his chest was unreal, it was nothing compared to his trim hips, sculpted thighs and cock nestled between.

“Oh,” you said, dragging a hand down his front.

Jimin shuddered a little. He was already hard, his cock thick and pretty with a reddened tip. It made your mouth water to look at, wanting to lick up the shaft. Reaching between you, you closed your fist around him and slowly jerked him off.

You watched in fascination as Jimin responded. His jaw tightened, abs tense while you teased over his frenulum. His cock responded instinctively, hardening further the longer you touched him.

After a few minutes of this, Jimin shook his head. “No more,” he said huskily, taking your hand in his. “I’ll come if you keep doing that.”

“Oh?” you murmured, gaze darting lower.

He chuckled, a rough sound in his throat. “I like watching you come,” Jimin confessed, his cock hard between you. “It turns me on. I’m… still trying to recover from your last orgasm.”

“Oh,” you said, in a completely different way.

Jimin exhaled, hair falling forward. “I hope that doesn’t weird you out.”

“Does it… weird me out that you like giving orgasms?”

“Well, when you put it like that.”

“How else would I put it?”

His grin became devious. “You could ask for another.”

Breathless, you nodded and Jimin’s gaze darkened.

He descended your body, not wasting any time as he positioned himself between your legs. Licking slow up your center, you gasped and instinctively drew your legs higher. Jimin didn’t bother easing you into it. No, now he ate you out like he wanted to.

Kissing your folds, he returned to your clit and sucked this into his mouth. Rolling the sensitive bud with his tongue, he teased and released before you knew what was happening. He continued to do this, spreading you underneath him and bringing you close to coming, only to pull back and leave you maddeningly empty.

Spreading your folds, he began licking sweetly over your clit. This was followed by loose, lazy sucking and more tender flicks. You stared dazedly at him between your legs, the sight more erotic than anything you could’ve imagined.

Grinding his cock into the sheets, Jimin thrust his hips while he pleasured you. You could tell he enjoyed this; each grunt from his lips was more affirmation. Moving lower, he circled your cunt with his tongue just to lap up your juices. You gasped at the sensation, having never felt it before. Flicking your clit with his thumb, Jimin fucked your cunt with his tongue before he slowly withdrew.

Spreading you wide, he returned to your clit and you clasped a hand over your lips before a moan could escape. Each curl of his tongue left you gasping, writhing beneath the pleasurable onslaught of his mouth. Pulling away, Jimin pressed a gentle kiss to your thigh before he rose up your body.

At your mouth, he kissed your fingers. “You don’t have to be quiet,” he told you. “I want to hear the noises you make, Y/N. It makes me feel good.”

Removing your hand, you slowly nodded.

Jimin just grinned, dropping between your legs to begin eating you out again. This time, you didn’t hold back. Jimin seemed to appreciate this as you slipped further from control. He was so good with his mouth, making you see stars as your legs started to shudder. When he slid his finger inside you and fingered you again, your hands fisted in the sheets.

“Ji-jimin,” you gasped, writhing beneath him. “Jimin, I – oh.”

He began to move faster, adding a second finger as your insides clenched around him. Everything tightened, hovering at a breaking point while Jimin continued, relentless. His mouth on your clit, his fingers inside you – everything broke apart when you came, gasping his name.

Jimin didn’t move, kissing your sex as you slowly came down. He lapped at your sex, licking up your arousal before withdrawing his fingers. Once your breathing had steadied, Jimin returned to the sheets beside you.

“Good?” he breathed, draping an arm over your waist.

“Oh my god, yes,” you exhaled, burying your face in his chest.

He laughed, pulling you closer. Jimin started to pull away, which made you look up and frown.

“What are you doing?” you said.

He paused. “I’m looking for a tissue.”

“Why?”

“I… I’m kind of at a loss here.”

“No, I mean why now,” you said, baffled. “I can come again, Jimin. I want to come with you inside me.”

Jimin stared at you a moment.

“Unless…” Uncertain, you hesitated. “You don’t want to…?”

“Fuck,” Jimin muttered, sounding hoarse. “No – I want to. I really want to. Are you sure, though?” he said, reaching to open the side drawer of his bed.

You grinned when he pulled out a condom, ripping this open.

“I’m sure,” you murmured, moving closer.

Jimin rolled the condom onto himself, pausing before he went any further. Shifting his weight so he hovered over you, Jimin searched your gaze. Reaching lower, you casually stroked his cock and guided him to your center.

He didn’t enter yet, content to take his time. Instead, Jimin bent and kissed you, dragging a hand down your side. His fingers paused at your breast, tweaking your nipple until it stood fully erect. Moving to your waist, he curved under your ass and lifted your hips to his.

Arching upwards, you felt his cock brush your center. The touch made you pant, wanting him inside you and wanting it now. Rolling over his length, you marveled at the feel of him between your legs. Having him so close and not having him inside you was maddening.

“Jimin,” you whimpered.

“Yeah?” he murmured, continuing to thrust between your thighs.

“Please,” you begged him.

“Alright, baby,” he said and rolled you onto your back.

It was the first time he’d used the endearment, sending a wave of warmth through you as your legs parted. Reaching lower, Jimin positioned himself at your entrance. It took him a moment to work his way in; you were so wet, he needed a second try. With only his tip inside, you immediately clenched and buried your head in his shoulder.

Lightly, Jimin brushed a kiss to your hair. “Relax, baby,” he murmured, making you glance up. “I’ll make you feel good. I promise.”

Slowly, you nodded. “Okay.”

Laying slowly back down, you tried to relax while he worked his way deeper. With slow, shallow thrusts, Jimin finally bottomed out and you stared at him in amazement. His cock was thicker than you were used to and stuffed to the brim like this, you felt so full. Glancing down, you saw his hips nestled snugly to yours.

When you looked up, Jimin met your gaze. “I’m sorry,” he exhaled, hanging his head. “I just – I need a minute.”

“What’s wrong?” you blurted, immediately worried.

A smile passed over his lips. “Nothing’s wrong.” He looked up. “You’re just… fuck. I feel like a damn virgin. You’re so tight and wet, I’m losing my mind.”

Hearing him say this sent a shiver through you. Shifting your hips, you reveled in the sensation of him moving inside you.

Jimin groaned. “No,” he protested. “You can’t do that right now.”

“Do what?”

“Try and make me move,” he murmured. “I know you can’t see yourself, so you can’t see how hot you look. Tits out, pussy spread and dripping all over my cock.”

“Oh,” you breathed.

“Sounding like that.”

“Jimin. If you don’t –”

He suddenly thrust deeper, grinding his pelvis against your core and making you groan. Speechless, you stared as he slowly pulled out. Jimin teased you with his tip, moving a few inches back in before he thrust again.

“Oh,” you groaned, jolted upwards on the bed.

His gaze dropped to your chest. “Fuck,” Jimin said quietly, dropping down to an elbow.

He moved again in earnest, thrusting slowly in and pulling back out. It made your breath catch, needing more but loving the torture. It was torture to feel every inch of him and have Jimin continue to hold back. You knew he could go faster, deeper, but wanted to stay in control.

Dropping his head, Jimin slowly kissed your neck. His cock continued to move, fucking you slowly as your legs opened wider.

“Jimin,” you whimpered.

Your hips chased after his, hoping to coerce him deeper.

He smirked. “Yes, baby?”

“Please,” you said, arching against him. “I want more.”

“You want it harder?”

As he said this, Jimin increased his strength. Keeping the tempo the same, each thrust of his cock had your lips parting with pleasure.

“Yes,” you whimpered, barely hanging on.

“And faster? You want that, too?”

You nodded, slack-jawed as Jimin sped up the pace. His cock began to pound into you, hand fisting in sheets as he gave it to you hard. Arching underneath him, your hands dragged down his back as Jimin fully let go. With each thrust of his hips, his pelvis brushed your clit and yet, it still wasn’t enough.

“More?” he teased, continuing to fuck you.

“More,” you whimpered, sliding your hands up your breasts. Tweaking the nipples, you watched his gaze harden. “I want more, Jimin.”

He immediately moved, as though he’d been waiting for this. Grasping your ankles in one hand, he lifted them high overhead and pulled his cock out. You gasped when he did so, your hands falling to the side while you were put on display. The position pushed your pussy lips together, giving an incredible view of your dripping cunt.

Jimin plunged his cock back inside, nearly making you scream. It felt so deep this way – so deep and hard and deliciously wanton. Jimin fucked you from above, hips slamming into you and making your breasts bounce.

Jimin groaned, his hips never faltering. “Touch them,” he said, lowering your ankles to one shoulder. “Touch your tits for me, baby.”

You obeyed, hands sliding over your breasts to tease your nipples. This sent a shock of pleasure straight to your core and Jimin hammered your g-spot, making you see stars. Jaw slack, you could only lie there and take it while he made you come.

It was too much, the wave of pleasure threatening to overwhelm, but then Jimin leaned forward and you finally snapped. You felt him release into the condom as you fell apart, rope after rope of hot cum inside you.

Eventually, Jimin softened and fell onto his elbow. As he opened his eyes, he sought your gaze and you smiled. His cheeks were flushed, his hair dark and sweaty and you couldn’t help the deep surge of affection within you.

“I don’t know about you,” he murmured. “But that was pretty fucking incredible.”

“Same here,” you whispered. “I’d like to do it again sometime.”

“Three orgasms weren’t enough?”

“Were they enough for you?”

“No.” Jimin laughed. “I could watch you come all night. But we should probably get you cleaned up and all that.”

“Probably,” you agreed, although you made no effort to move.

Eventually Jimin sighed and gently pulled out. Tossing his condom in the trash, he showed you to the bathroom and let you do what you needed to do. When you returned, Jimin was on top of his bed. He’d put back on his boxers and held out his sweatshirt.

“I thought you might want this,” he said, uncertain.

Smiling, you took it and lowered it over your head. Climbing beside him on the bed, you rested your head on his shoulder and cuddled beside him. Listening to his breathing, you concentrated until yours started to match.

Outside, cheers erupted from the street. Scrambling upwards, you fought to look out Jimin’s side window. As you hurried to see what the commotion was about, Jimin groaned when you flashed him your bare ass, but followed suit.

Glancing outside, you realized it must have turned midnight. Fireworks went off over the skyline, people cheered below, and someone had lit a sparkler on the street. Voices drifted higher, wishing each other a happy new year as slowly, you turned around to face Jimin.

He smiled at you, his happiness clear when he pulled you to him. A dizzying rush of what-if’s and excitement went through you and somehow, you knew this would be only the beginning.

“Happy new year,” he murmured.

“Happy new year,” you whispered, tilting your face up to his.

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for reading this series 😊 It’s been a whirlwind, so thank you for sticking with our main characters throughout the journey! I hope you enjoyed and are having a wonderful holiday season :) happy (almost) new year!

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