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ppersonna · 3 years

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my only wish - knj | m

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

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

✹ rating- explicit/18+/nsfw

✹ pairing- kim namjoon x reader

✹ word count- 15.1k OOF

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

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

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

There are few things you hate most in this world.

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

But nothing takes the cake more than two simple things:

Christmas.

And Kim Namjoon.

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

And don’t even start on Kim Namjoon.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, Mr. Kim?”

“I’ve got a case for you.”

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

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

“I know you won’t let me down.”

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

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

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

Personal Injury Suit.

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

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

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

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

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

He looks over the documents and sucks his teeth.

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

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

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

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

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

“I know, babe. I know.”

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

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

“Yeah! Fighting!” Jimin cheers.

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

Seokjin gave him this space, an upgrade from the desolate cubicles when he won his last big case, Kim Taehyung, artist v. the city of New York. He can’t help but smirk as he glimpses you from his window, pouring over a case file. He notes the curve of your back in the silk blouse you’re wearing and the way it tucks into your pencil skirt. He wishes he could see the outline of your ass and watch as it sways back and forth when you walk.

“I just don’t understand why you can’t ever bring anyone home for the holidays!”

His mother breaks him from his silent reverie of detailing every aspect of your backside.

“You know your grandmother will not be alive much longer! And all she wants is her only grandson to be happy and in love! And a few grandchildren won’t hurt!”

“I am her grandchild, Mom.”

She’s silent for a moment.

“Well, I wouldn’t mind some grandchildren either.”

He groans again and presses his fingers to his forehead, a headache bubbling up behind his eyes.

“Don’t you act like that, young man! You have a big empty house, big car, big life, and no one to share it with. I just want you to be happy.”

She continues on and Namjoon can’t help but let her words sink in.

He has it all. Expensive luxury apartment, enormous bed, gorgeous kitchen, money to spend on traveling and enjoying life. Yet he spends most of his time here, stuck in his office. He’s utterly alone, regardless of how many social guests he tries to entertain, horrid dates he attempts to go on. He’s always left alone, and he feels it deep at the very bottom of his heart—the loneliness and desire for a companion.

“Mom! Mom!” He interrupts her diatribe on the futility of his adult life. “Stop!”

“Namjoon, I’m just conce-”

“I’ll bring home my girlfriend for the holidays, okay?”

There’s a stunned silence on the other end.

“A girlfriend?” she asks, tentatively. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he breathes, wincing already at the lie he’s spoon-feeding his poor mother—all in the name of getting her off his back. “She’s kind of shy, so I didn’t want to tell you about her yet, but now seems like the best time. I’m... I’m even thinking of proposing.”

The words come out of Namjoon’s mouth before he can stop them. His mom bursts into screams of delight, and he can tell she’s running to his beloved grandmother to tell her the news.

“Oh, Namjoon! This is all we’ve ever wanted for you. I’m so proud of you! I can’t wait to meet her! Oh, goodness, I can’t want to tell your father. Goodbye, son! I’ll see you two soon!”

She hangs up before Namjoon has a chance to even breathe.

“Fuck.”

He drops his phone to his wooden desk and grimaces.

How the hell is he going to find a fiance in the next 3 days before the holiday break?

There’s Jennie, his ex.

He thinks about it for a moment, before quickly dismissing it. No, much too clingy and possessive. She’d take it to be real, and he’d be stuck with her.

His last hookup, Jihoo?

No, too aloof. His mom would never buy that they were a love-sick couple on the brink of engagement.

A crash outside his office startles Namjoon, making him stand and exit the large corner suite.

The commotion is coming from your cubicle, where he can see you’re struggling to use the decrepit computer. The crash must have been from you slamming the keyboard to the desk, causing the individual keys to pop off the board.

“Shit! Jimin, help me put this keyboard back together!”

You shimmy out of your chair and onto your knees, an excellent sight for Namjoon if he wasn’t so concerned about your well-being.

The paralegal is standing above you, watching as you kneel to gather the pieces of the obliterated keyboard.

“Oh no, honey. It’s against my personal constitution to be on my knees unless it’s for a handsome man.”

“God, Jimin, come on.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault you hulk-smashed the life out of that poor keyboard.”

Namjoon smirks, turning back into his office and sliding into his desk. He easily opens his MacBook and emails Yoongi in IT, requesting a brand new computer for your desk—no holds barred. He wants the top of the line for you.

He suddenly has just the person in mind to be his fake fiancée.

A brand new, gorgeous computer is at your desk the next day you arrive. You nearly spill your hot peppermint mocha when you see the sleek machine atop your old plastic desk instead of the broken clunker that was there the day before.

“What the hell?” You ask Jimin as you set your coffee down gently as if any movement might scare the new computer away. “Did you order this?”

“I love you, but I would never order you something this nice.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes as you sit down to marvel at the modern machinery. At least Jimin is honest.

“Maybe I’ll call Yoongi and ask him where it came from,” you wonder aloud, hand hovering over your phone.

“YOONGI?” Jimin screeches, eyes suddenly wide and crazed.

“Yeah? The IT guy?”

“I know who Yoongi is, you dumbass! Here, let me call him! I’m your assistant!”

He scrambles to grab the phone out of your hand.

“You literally refuse to do anything I ask.”

Jimin smiles cherubically, completely ignoring your confusion. He’s suddenly the picture of a model employee.

“Don’t you worry! I’ll be right on it!”

He hops from your desk with your cell phone gripped tight, and saunters away to a secluded area out of your eyesight.

“What the fuck is going on today?” You ask out loud, settling into your chair and unloading your bag of files.

“How's the new computer?”

The sudden intruder makes you jump, nearly spilling your coffee, yet again.

“Fuck!” You shriek as you attempt to right yourself and the dangerously hot liquid sloshing in the paper cup. “You scared me!”

The chuckle that comes from behind you makes your stomach flip. You know that laugh. You could recognize that laugh a hundred miles away, in a hurricane, with headphones on.

That laugh is the sultry demon himself, Kim Namjoon.

“I—How did you know about my computer?”

Namjoon takes a knee, bringing his face to your level in your chair. He’s close to you, so dangerously close. You can smell the Giorgio Armani cologne applied to his pressure points—the heat of his skin warming the scent and mingling with his own subtleties. Your eyes nearly roll back in your head. He smells so comforting—like a home you never knew you were missing until he arrived.

“I saw it when I walked in this morning.”

He breaks you from your daydreaming of warm, firm hands caressing your body and you’re thrown headfirst back into reality—the reality where you can’t stand the man mere inches from you.

You push back from where you are and stand, eager to get away from Namjoon’s sudden interest in close proximity. He smirks and rises from his spot, pocketing his hands in his tight cream suit.

“Care to join me in my office for some coffee?” He asks.

His office. The one he scored after he won the Kim Taehyung case. The bitter betrayal still lingers in your mouth.

For the longest time, you had been equal in every sense; both living in the dingy cubicles with the computers long-destined for retirement. Then, Seokjin awarded him with the corner office, the one with the view of the entire city. You’d never forgiven either of them.

“I have my own coffee.”

Namjoon smirks as he eyes your paper cup, clearly a quick grab from the 7-Eleven around the corner.

“Looks fancy.”

You purse your lips and clutch your coffee even closer.

“Please,” he asks again. “I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

Namjoon’s face loses its snark, and you’re curious about what could cause the man to become so serious.

“Fine.”

You motion with your arm towards his office, encouraging him to walk ahead. He smirks again, ah—there’s that smirk, before he turns and heads into the gorgeous corner room.

He lingers by the door as you enter, waiting until you’ve crossed the threshold to close the door behind you. It surprises you. Something about being in a closed room with Namjoon sets you on edge. You can nearly imagine the man bending you over that fine oak desk, hiking your skirt up and spanking your ass until it’s red.

“Coffee?” He asks as he moves towards the in-office espresso machine.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You have a Nespresso in your office?”

All desperate and wanton thoughts of Namjoon sliding into you leave once you see the stainless steel contraption in the room's corner. Of course he has a $500 coffee machine in his office. He has everything you want.

“You like it?” His question is cocky. He already knows the answer.

“Fuck off.”

Namjoon grins and turns the machine on, pulling out two mugs while you sip your now lukewarm coffee. It suddenly tastes disgusting.

“So, what’s the deal, Namjoon?” You ask as he rests against the wall and waits for the coffee to brew. “You said it was important.”

Namjoon nods, a more reserved look taking the place of his usual cocky grin on his face. His gaze turns down to his shiny dress shoes.

“I need a favor.”

“No.” Your answer is quick.

Namjoon looks up at you in surprise.

“You haven’t even heard it yet!”

“Yeah, well…,” you huff. “I’m not interested in helping you.”

Namjoon leaves his post by his elaborate coffee maker, forgetting about the piping-hot liquid drizzling into white mugs, as he stands in front of you. There’s that fucking cologne again. Why does he have to smell so good?

“You’ve got to help me. Please.”

His sudden closeness to you sets your brain off—your steely resolve begins to crumble.

“Fine, I’ll bite. What is it?”

His face lights up again. God, he has such a handsome mouth.

“I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend for my family Christmas party.”

If you hadn’t had such a good grip on the convenience store cup of coffee, it’d surely drop from your clutch and splatter on the expensive carpet of Namjoon’s office.

Your eyes widen, and your mouth falls agape.

“You—You what?!”

Namjoon sighs and lowers his voice.

“Look, I…” he struggles. “I told my mom I have a girlfriend, so she’d get off my back about it.”

“And why am I suddenly your best option for that?!”

You step away from the man, determined to clear your mind as the scenario weaves its way through your head.

Namjoon’s girlfriend. He wants you to be his girlfriend.

Well, his fake girlfriend.

He would hold your hand. He would kiss you. He would touch your body in ways you convince yourself you don’t think of often.

“You’re the only girl I know who’s got a good enough poker face to go along with it. And honestly… you’re the only girl I really know well enough.”

His last admission shocks you. Namjoon seems like the womanizing type—one to bring a different girl home every night.

“That doesn’t explain why the fuck I would want to help you.”

Namjoon steps back and moves towards the coffee machine again.

“If you help me, I’ll take all your shitty cases that Jin is giving you.”

Your eyes narrow at the tall man. It seems too good to be true.

“How d'you know about them?”

Namjoon shrugs and grabs a mug full of freshly brewed expensive coffee.

“I can hear you complain to Jimin about it every day.”

You grumble under your breath, sucking on your teeth as you try to process the terms of Namjoon’s deal.

“So you want me to be your fake girlfriend for your family…” you muse.

“Yes,” he agrees. “And I’ll do all your worst cases for the next 2 months. I’ll even give you my next big one. I know you want that.”

God, he’s right. That’s all you want. A chance to prove yourself to Seokjin, to the company.

With an aggravated sigh, you relent.

“Fine! But it better be a good fucking case. And, I’m using your coffee maker every morning.”

Namjoon can’t help but chuckle, loving the fire in your voice.

“Deal?” He murmurs.

He holds out his hand to shake on it, and it takes you by surprise how warm and soft his large hands are once you slide your own into his grip.

“Deal.”

Jimin is not going to let you live this one down.

Jimin doesn’t let you live it down.

He’s sitting on your couch, legs crossed underneath him as he hoists his wine glass filled to the brim. He holds it away from his body as he shakes with laughter.

“You’re telling me,” he wheezes. “That you agreed to be Namjoon’s fake Christmas girlfriend? You hate that man!”

Flopping into the couch beside him, you sigh.

“Yeah, well, it was my only option. He made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

“Okay, Godfather,” Jimin snickers. “Lord knows you still want to bone that man, anyway.”

“Jimin!” You admonish. “I do not! And that wasn’t the deal!”

He sips at his red wine with an impish smile. You hate it when Jimin looks at you like that, like he can see behind the lie you’ve so carefully crafted of your hatred for Namjoon.

“Then tell me, what was the deal?”

You fiddle with the stem of your own wine glass, sighing.

“He’s offered to take all our shitty personal injury suits for the next two months. And he’s giving me his next big case.”

Jimin actually looks surprised—as if he didn’t expect Namjoon to provide a deal so worth the cost.

“Wow,” he breathes.

You nod in reply, taking a large gulp of the pinot grigio in your glass.

“You’re still going to fuck him though, I know it,” Jimin adds.

You splutter your wine from your mouth, hand reaching over to gently slap Jimin on his taut abdomen.

“Shut up!” You cry.

Jimin looks proud of himself, sipping his red wine gleefully while he settles further into your couch. Wine nights with Jimin is the highlight of your weeks. Together, you bitch over cases, coworkers, dating struggles, and eat too much cheese and cured meats and nurse a hangover the following day with brunch.

“Hey,” you say to Jimin as you set your wine down on the coffee table. “Did you ever talk to Yoongi?”

Jimin’s cheeks immediately turn a shade of rouge.

“Yoongi? Yoongi who?”

“Oh my god,” you groan. “Yoongi from IT. You stole my phone to call him today? To ask about my new computer?”

Jimin swallows a large swig of his wine.

“Oh. Yes, I did.”

“And?” You encourage the blonde to answer further.

“And he’s doing well,” Jimin replies demurely.

“Jimin!” You huff. “The computer?!”

Jimin makes an ‘O’ shape with his mouth and bites his lip.

“I… might have forgotten to ask.”

Your mouth drops open.

“You literally stole my phone out of my hands to call him! What did you talk about?!”

There’s his blush again. The shade of pink on Jimin’s cheeks would be adorable if you weren’t so flabbergasted by his answers.

“I have a date tomorrow night.” He takes another sip as you let the reply sink in.

“Oh. My. God.” You gasp, a smile now overtaking your features. “You have a crush on Min Yoongi!”

Jimin sets his wine glass down next to yours and turns to you.

“I had no idea if he was into me! But when I called, I totally forgot why I was calling him and we sort of just… started talking and next thing I know, he’s asking me out to dinner tomorrow night.”

You playfully slap at Jimin’s thigh.

“You little slut—using my phone to get yourself a date. On company time!”

Jimin sticks his tongue out at you, before grabbing a pillow and slapping you with the overstuffed cushion.

“At least I didn’t agree to be his fake girlfriend!”

It’s the sound of your phone ringing at 7:32 am that wakes you from your spot on the couch, wine glass still clutched in your hand.

“What the fuck?” You grumble, eyes blearily seeking the offending object disturbing your sleep.

Jimin grumbles next to you, kicking at your foot as if it will stop the phone from ringing.

“Stop,” he whines and cuddles into his fetal position. “Turn it ooooff.”

You locate your cell phone and groan as you recognize the name on the caller ID. Namjoon. What the fuck could he possibly be calling for? And why did he have to call at seven in the goddamn morning?

“What do you want?” You snap as you hold the phone to your cheek and throw yourself back onto the couch.

“Well, good morning to you, sunshine.”

Namjoon’s voice, as sexy and sultry as it sounds, still aggravates you.

“Why are you calling me? It’s Saturday. Its seven am.”

Namjoon chuckles and you fight the shiver that works through your spine at the sound.

“I tend to keep human hours on the weekend.”

You can’t hold back the sarcastic guffaw that escapes you.

“Okay, Mr. Perfect,” you sigh. “That doesn’t explain calling me.”

Jimin kicks at your foot again.

“Stop talking,” he grumbles.

God, Jimin is such a diva when he’s hungover.

“Meet me at the cafe on First Street,” Namjoon says casually. “I’ll tell you when you get here.”

“Right now?!” You ask, incredulous.

“I’m literally already here. Hurry before your coffee gets cold.”

You let out a whine that could rival a 5-year-old’s temper tantrum.

“Fuck you. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

There’s no care about your phone when you end the call and throw it to the floor. Jimin grumbles and rubs at his eyes.

“Why the fuck are you having phone sex with Namjoon so early in the morning?” He asks.

“Jimin, I swear to God.”

He wraps himself in the throw blanket and buries his face back into the couch while you stand and retreat to your bedroom to throw on some semblance of appropriate clothing for the occasion.

“Fucking Namjoon,” you grumble under your breath as you change into jeans and a sweater. “Fuck him and his stupid, sexy face. And his unbelievable ass. And his stupid, probably enormous penis. Man, I hate him.”

As you’re re-entering the living room and grabbing your important items (keys, wallet, lip gloss just in-case), Jimin pops his head out of his blanket cave.

“Where are you going?” He asks, suddenly less annoyed and more pathetic. “You’re leaving me?”

“I have to go meet Namjoon for coffee. I don’t know why, so don’t ask.”

“You’re really going to let me suffer here? Alone? With no coffee?”

You spin around to face your best friend, who’s giving you an absolutely soul-crushing pout and puppy eyes.

“Yes. Call Yoongi.”

His precious pout is wiped away, and a devious smirk takes its place.

“Great idea!” He says as he digs around for his phone. “Be careful out there! It’s icy! Wouldn’t want you to slip and fall on Namjoon’s dick.”

Your only reply is one singular middle finger in Jimin’s direction as you exit your apartment.

Namjoon can’t help but smile as he sips his warm coffee. The cafe is warm and bright, despite the chill outside.

Things feel peaceful. Tender flakes of snow trickle down outside and frost up the shop’s window. There’s something about this time of year that strikes him down to the core. Something cozy, something warm.

It’s odd to think this will be his first year not celebrating the holiday alone.

Even if it is... well, fake.

The bell over the door chimes an arrival, and Namjoon can tell by the grumbles and grunts and stomps of snowy boots that it’s you.

“Over here!” He calls, raising a hand and turning to face you.

Wow, he thinks. You look gorgeous, even without trying.

You hurry your way over to the booth and plop yourself on the opposite side, immediately lunging for the obvious mug of coffee waiting for you on the table. You don’t waste a minute gulping the liquid down your throat, then spluttering when you realize it’s still hot.

“I thought you said it was getting cold!” You cry, airing out your burnt tongue. Namjoon can’t help but imagine that tongue sliding up and down his cock.

Not now. Wrong time and place to get a boner.

Namjoon smiles as he sips his cappuccino.

“I got you a fresh one.”

You make a face, but your features soften. As if you’re pleased with the idea that Namjoon cared to freshen up your cup.

“Oh, well--”, you manage. “Thank you.”

Namjoon doesn’t reply, but merely tips his head. The silence is thick enough to cut with a knife. Normally, you’re both normally so wound up in aggravating the other that a moment of calm is strange, but not unwelcome.

“So, why the early morning wake up?” You finally ask, fiddling with the handle of the mug.

Namjoon settles his cup down.

“We need to get to know each other. Deep shit, you know. The shit that lovers would know about each other.”

He notices you, watches as you nibble at your lip. You try hard to hide it behind the mug you lift to your lips, but Namjoon notices.

“I’m hoping maybe we could spend the day together,” he adds. “I need to get some Christmas gifts for my family and… well, it’s rather lonely doing it on my own.”

There’s a slight smile at the ends of your lips.

“And you needed me at seven thirty in the morning to do that?”

He stifles a laugh.

“Like I said, I operate at regular human hours. Even on weekends,” he replies.

With a dramatic sigh, you agree.

“Fine,” you say. “I’m an open book. Ask me anything.”

He watches as you settle into the seat of the booth, hands gripping the warm mug like it’s a personal heater. He notices you’re only wearing jeans and a sweater--no properly warm clothing for the snow storm ahead. He’ll have to fix that, and soon.

“What are you doing for Christmas?” He asks.

You level a look.

“Spending it pretending to be in love with you.”

Namjoon can’t help but snort a laugh.

“I meant after that.”

You shrug as you settle back into the seat.

“I don’t like Christmas. I don’t do much other than force Jimin to kiss me under the mistletoe and watch shitty movies with a gallon of boxed wine.”

“Hmm,” he hums. “You’re sort of a Grinch.”

A scowl comes over your face.

“I am not! I just don’t buy into this whole ‘prove how much you love me by buying me things’ shit. It’s a big scheme, I tell you! Capitalist propaganda! They encourage you to spend all your money, and if you don’t, they shame and guilt you by telling you you don’t love your family enough.”

Namjoon can’t help but laugh as you rant. It’s what makes you such a talented lawyer—your ability to feel a passion so deep within you you’re able to convince a stone-faced jury of your side.

“Don’t laugh at me!” You cry. “I’m serious! My family doesn’t celebrate, I don’t celebrate. I’d rather just buy gifts for my loved ones when I see something they’d like. Why do we have to put a time of year on it?”

He shrugs and scooches his mug around the carbonate table.

“I suppose that makes sense,” he muses. “But you’re still a Grinch. And a Scrooge. You’ll definitely get visited by some Ghosts at midnight.”

“Ha ha,” you snark sarcastically. “Hilarious, Namjoon. Don’t tell me you’re a big festive guy.”

“Somewhat. It’s my Mom’s favorite holiday. It’s why she’s so bent out of shape about me having a girlfriend. Something about family and love and shit.”

You nod, understanding him completely. Your own mother, despite her reservations towards the holiday, still makes a fuss over your single status. There must be some Mom code to obsess over your children’s woeful dating life.

“Well, I say let’s get on with it then. Ready to hit the shops?” He asks.

You’re mid-sip of your finally cooled coffee and you send a desperate look to the man in front of you.

“Already?!”

“We’re burning daylight, baby.”

Namjoon stands and you can’t help but feel a roar of flames in your belly at the pet-name. Your cheeks are surely flaming up and you admonish yourself for getting so peaked about such a trivial name.

“Please don’t tell me we’re walking,” you murmur as you sneak a peek outside.

The snow is falling down harder now, and you’re dreadfully underdressed for the weather.

Namjoon tsks at your lack of outerwear, but then shakes his head.

“No, we’ll take my Range Rover.”

You roll your eyes and grimace.

“Of course. You have a fucking Nespresso machine and a Range Rover. Asshole.”

Namjoon doesn’t even think about it as he grabs your hand and laces his fingers in between yours. If anyone asked, he’d say it’s practice—to familiarize himself with the way your fingers slot between his own so it’s not such a foreign concept when he does it in front of his family.

“Yeah, but I’m your asshole now, princess.”

Christmas shopping with Namjoon is mostly painless.

Normally, you dread the lines and the crowds and the confusion and the expense.

But with Namjoon, you relax and banter away with the tall lawyer. You’re completely at ease as you walk through crowded aisles and sort through racks of cashmere sweaters and stacks of fuzzy blankets.

“Mom will love this, don’t you think?” Namjoon asks, holding up a thick, exquisite looking blanket.

You’re about to answer with an affirmative when you catch yourself. You don’t even know his mom. You’ve never met the woman. Why does it feel as if Namjoon is someone you’ve known your entire life?

Why do things feel so easy with him?

“Sure, Namjoon,” you reply. “Seems like something most mother’s would be into.”

He smiles at you. It’s a genuine smile too, one that nearly knocks you on your ass. Your body is sent into overdrive constantly. He holds your hand, he places his hand at the small of your back to guide you through a thick crowd. He calls you baby and princess and doll.

It’s confusing.

It’s amazing.

You can’t tell if you love it or hate it.

Namjoon pushes the shopping cart and walks beside you, chatting easily about his various aunts and uncles names that you likely must remember at some point but you just can’t think about anything but Namjoon, Namjoon, Namjoon.

You hate him. He stole that corner office from you. He’s going to take the promotion you want from right under your nose. He has a goddamn Nespresso in his office and a Range Rover.

And yet, you can’t help but fall in place next to him and listen to him tell stories of his childhood, weaving tales of uncles who snuck him his first sips of alcohol and aunts who spoil him rotten. He’s easy to listen to, a natural story-teller. Your body feels warm, as if you’re sitting on a large hearth by a roaring fire. He’s comforting.

It’s infuriating and wonderful all at once.

“And that’s when my cousin Jungkook got caught smoking cigarettes. My grandma beat our ass so bad I couldn’t sit for a day.”

Namjoon finishes his story and turns to look at you. You’ve been staring at the man for nearly a minute straight now.

“Hey,” his voice is soft. “You listening?”

You shake out of the trance Namjoon’s deep voice sends you into.

“Yeah!” You reply with a smirk. “Sounds like this Jungkook is a guy I’d like to meet.”

Namjoon sucks his teeth and nudges you.

“Hey, you’re my girlfriend, remember.”

You stick your tongue out at him playfully.

“Fake girlfriend. I’m still a single, desirable lady at the end of the day.”

Namjoon hesitates before answering. He wants to reply something snarky, something sarcastic and witty. But he takes a moment to pause, allows himself to fully immerse himself in you. Even hungover, in yesterday’s jeans and an old sweater, you’re still an absolute catch. You’re the definition of desirable and Namjoon can’t help but allow himself to desire.

“Hmm, is that what you call it?” He asks, now allowing the sarcasm to permeate his words. “I was thinking you’re more of the spinster, cat-lady type.”

“Hey!” You pout as you slap at his arm. “I’m allergic to cats!”

“But you don’t deny being a spinster.”

“Fuck you, Namjoon.”

He grins and pushes the carts towards the candle aisle, a sure-fire gift for his aunties.

“In due time, my love.”

By the time Christmas Eve arrives, you’ve spent nearly every day with Namjoon. At work, he brings you fresh coffee from his Nespresso and buys you lunch. You’ve even landed his big case, an incredibly complex lawsuit that will showcase your skills. Namjoon gives you pointers and space to talk through the case with him.

Namjoon is, in fact, simply being kind. And it unsettles you.

Your heart and brain are at war with each other constantly. You should hate him, loathe him. He’s going to nail that promotion regardless of what you prove to Seokjin.

But your heart tells you he deserves it. He’s an incredible attorney and has earned every ounce of respect. You want Namjoon to get that promotion just to see that smile on his face. He’d do incredible things as Seokjin’s protege to take over the firm.

You hate to admit it, but Namjoon has melted the ice around your heart. And you’re dreading the day after all this is over, because it will be the day Namjoon stops holding you close and pressing soft kisses to your temple. It will be the day he stops pretending this is all real.

It’s Christmas Eve and you’re sitting in Namjoon’s expensive Range Rover, plush leather seat toasty from the built-in seat warmer. You can’t help but marvel at the way the oncoming headlights brighten up Namjoon’s features as he drives you down a snowy mountain lane. They always hold the Kim family holiday party at Namjoon’s late grandfather’s cabin in the mountains, a quiet getaway for the family to gather and spend the night together to wake up on Christmas morning and gather around for presents and food.

Which means waking up to Kim Namjoon.

It’s something you’ve dreamt of often, but denied yourself any actual possibility of it. Namjoon was always out of reach, and it was easier to hate him for his success he rightfully deserved than it was to admit the feelings that were always inside.

And now, although it’s artificial, you can’t bear to think of not spending your time with Namjoon anymore.

You steal a glance again at him, and smile as you hear his faint humming. He loves Christmas music. You learned that early in the week during another early morning coffee and ‘get to know you’ before work. Namjoon couldn’t stop singing Mariah Carey’s classic pop song under his breath as it played over the speakers in the cafe.

“It’s so pretty up here,” you muse as you force your vision away from Namjoon’s gorgeous face to the snowy scenery outside.

The snow is falling gently, not enough to cause a blizzard but enough to make it seem like you’re trapped in a picturesque snow-globe. Leaving the city and entering the magical forest stirs an emotion inside you you hadn’t felt in some time.

It’s Christmas Eve and there’s just something magical.

Ugh. Unbelievable.

Namjoon has even made you actually enjoy Christmas.

He nods. “Yeah, it’s my favorite place in the world, I think.”

“I can see why,” you sigh. “It looks like a painting.”

Namjoon glances over at you peering through the window. His heart hammers in his chest hard as your glittering eyes bounce around from tree to tree, a pretty smile on your face. The diamond ring in his pocket feels like it weighs a literal ton and he nibbles at his lip.

He bought it for the showmanship of it all, initially. It was his first purchase he made when he set up this whole rouse.

But now, it feels real. It feels like he’s really about to get on one knee and ask you, the girl he’s absolutely head over heels for, to marry him.

And then it will be over.

He’ll make up some story to tell his mom about how it didn’t work out and you’ll go back to being his coworker, and nothing more.

Namjoon can’t fight the sinking feeling in his stomach.

Nothing more.

He pulls into the driveway before you even have time to realize you’re there. He puts the car in park and smiles over at you.

He looks so cute in his puffy winter coat, hair pushed to the side and a smile that’s all dimples and cheeks.

Fuck.

“We’re here,” he whispers. “You ready?”

Suddenly, the nerves of meeting your fake boyfriend’s entire family slap you right in the face. You hope that you’re a good enough actress to get Namjoon through the night and into the morning.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

He nods and squeezes your hand, an unspoken comforting ‘I got you’.

Namjoon gathers his wrapped gifts and stacks them all in his arms, ignoring your pleas and giggles to help carry them in.

“No, no,” he assures. “I have to make sure my mom sees me being manly and helpful.”

As if on cue, the front door opens and Mrs. Kim is bursting out into the snowy night.

“Namjoon!” She shrieks, completely overjoyed. The rest of the family is standing by the door, eyeing you carefully with smiles and whispers. You pray to whatever Christmas God that’s listening that you can do this.

Namjoon sets the pile of gifts down just in time to wrap his delicate and tiny mother in his arms, hugging her tightly while she gleefully buries her face into her tall son’s chest.

“Oh, my son, I’ve missed you.”

Namjoon kisses the crown of her head and smiles.

“Missed you too, eomma.”

The scene has you misty-eyed and you swipe at your eyes to stop the tears. There’s no way you’re ruining the fantastic makeup you did for the occasion, but the reunion of Namjoon and his mother is heart-warming. He clearly cares for his mother more than he would outwardly admit.

Namjoon and his mother unwrap from each other and Namjoon turns towards you.

“Everyone, this is ____,” he breathes. “My girlfriend.”

His mother’s gleeful squeals now turn to you, and within an instant she’s gathering you up in just as tight of a hug as she did to her son.

“Oh, darling, we are so happy to meet you,” she beams.

The excitement in her voice makes you feel bad—like you’re conning an old woman out of her retirement. You’re instilling a sense of hope in the kind woman, and you can’t help but send Namjoon a look as you wrap your arms around her and return the embrace. His eyes sparkle with something you can’t read.

“I’m happy to meet you too,” you smile as you pull apart. “Thank you for letting me come.”

“No thanks necessary,” she admonishes with a wink. “We had to beg Namjoon to bring you. It seems he wants to keep you all to himself.”

“Eomma!” Namjoon snaps. “Be appropriate!”

She nudges you with her elbow knowingly, which makes your cheeks flame hot, before she leads the way back into the house.

“Come in, come in! Let’s get out of this snow.”

Namjoon encourages you to step inside with a gentle hand at the small of your back—a touch that makes your body light up brighter than a Christmas tree.

“Thank you,” he whispers in your ear from behind. You can feel the warmth of his lips and your body reacts.

How is it that any simple act makes you desperately horny for the man? You pray for some respite from your sexual frustration over the next day. How are you going to last over 24 hours?

Namjoon deposits his massive haul of gifts under the tree and returns to your side, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to bring you close. He introduces you to uncles and aunts and cousins. He even introduces you to his infamous cousin, Jungkook, who smirks at you in a way that makes Namjoon pull you in closer to his body.

“Are you doing okay?” Namjoon finally asks after the rush of relatives greeting you dies down. He turns you towards him, to face him directly with his hands on either of your shoulders. “You’re killing it.”

You can’t help but smile. Namjoon’s family is all incredibly kind and funny. They welcome you into the family with ease and it chips away a little more each time at your heart.

Because this is all fake.

One day, Namjoon really will have a girlfriend to bring to Christmas and to show off to his relatives and it won’t be you. You’ll be back at your apartment, watching shitty TV re-runs and binging on Chinese takeout, as you do every year. It’s a jab at your heart each time the bitter truth rears its ugly head.

“Yeah,” you nod. “I’m great.”

“Look!” Jungkook shouts. “They’re standing under the mistletoe!”

Namjoon blushes a shade of red that likely matches a blush on your own cheeks. Sure enough, the green branches of the mistletoe taunt you from above.

You’ve never kissed Namjoon before. In all the skinship and closeness of the last week, you’ve still yet to close the gap to kissing the man.

“Oh, come on Kook, that’s a stupid tradition,” Namjoon murmurs awkwardly, rubbing at the back of his neck.

Jungkook smirks as he steps up next to you.

“Well, if you’re not going to do it, I’d be more than happy to take your place.”

Jungkook wraps a loose arm around you and gives you a charming smile. He must be very popular with the ladies, you think. That’s a charming smile.

“Hey!” Namjoon grabs for your hand and tugs you out of Jungkook’s predatory gaze. “She’s my girlfriend.”

Namjoon looks at you for a moment, assessing your comfort level with everything about to take place. His lips look so inviting, so plush and warm. Now that you’re thinking about kissing him, you can’t help but focus on the way his lips pucker so gently and naturally.

And then it happens. Namjoon lowers his face towards you and it feels as if the world is in slow-motion. It’s happening.

The first press of his lips is soft and conservative. You take a split second to register, but instinctively you press against his lips with determination and wrap your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss.

He groans softly as you trail your tongue out to seek purchase in his mouth, and he opens for you without hesitation. His hands grip at your waist and bring your body flush against his. You can feel his cock twitching and rising from the kiss that’s gone from innocent and playful to passionate and deep. It feels like the world around you has stopped and the only thing that matters is Namjoon, his mouth, his body against your own. He tastes like hot chocolate and peppermint, and you want more, more.

“Oh my god, stop,” Jungkook’s voice shatters your illusion of being all alone with Namjoon. “Now you’re just showing off.”

Namjoon pulls away from you, eyes dazed as he tries to right himself.

“You two are just so perfect for each other,” Namjoon’s mother says, who’s suddenly appeared in Jungkook’s place. “Let me show you your bedroom.”

“Oh, we’re sharing?” You ask without thought. It’s a large house, with ample bedrooms surely for you to have your own space.

Namjoon nudges you in the ribs gently, eyes widening and mouthing a ‘what the fuck do you mean?’

“Of course dear, don’t be silly,” his mother replies with an eyebrow waggle and a chuckle. “I remember when your father and I were dating. He would sneak into my room after my parents went to bed and keep me up all night long. Your grandfather would ask me if I had terrible dreams that night, because I looked so tired.”

Namjoon makes a face. “Eomma, please,” he begs. “Please don’t talk about my parents like that.”

As his mother guides you down a long hallway, your mind is whirring with too many thoughts of Namjoon, of sharing a bedroom with Namjoon, of seeing his sleeping face and waking up next to him. It’s all too much, too overwhelming. You pray there’s a couch in the room you could sleep on, because you’re far too weak and you’d rather fight the desperation in your body than face the fact that you want nothing more than to curl right into Namjoon’s strong arms and let him hold you all night to sleep.

Fuck.

“Here we are!”

His mother opens the door with grace, and flicks on the light. The room is beautiful in its simplicity. A king sized bed, a fireplace, and a balcony with a view of the sprawling snowy scene outside. It’s cozy and warm and decorated with its own Christmas tree.

“Wow,” is all you can muster.

“Aish, Mom,” Namjoon sighs as he drops his bags. “You didn’t need to do all of this for us.”

Mrs. Kim holds his hand in both of hers. “Well, I know how special this Christmas is going to be,” she winks. “I want you to enjoy your time here. Now, I’ll leave you two alone for a bit. Dinner is in an hour, so ‘freshen up’!”

Another wink, and Namjoon makes another face. She definitely wants grandchildren, that much is for certain.

She closes the door behind her and you’re left standing in the room, overnight bag in hand.

“This is—Wow, this is amazing.”

You’ve never experienced Christmas like this—with decorations and warmth and family. It’s as if the love of the Kim family permeates the very walls of the expansive cabin, like it’s built into the foundation itself. For a moment, you allow yourself to soak it all in. This is all yours. It’s your Christmas and you finally understand why so many make such a fuss over it. The results are nothing short of remarkable.

“Yeah, she really does the most,” Namjoon laughs.

He takes the bag from your hand without your notice and you step towards the balcony to peer into the night. The landscape looks as if everything has been covered in soft marshmallow. The snow is untouched—picture perfect.

“I’ve never had anything like this before.”

Namjoon settles your bag and his on the bed, watching as you soak in your own wonder. The smile on your face is not one he sees often, one of pure joy. Namjoon swallows hard as he realizes he wants to be the one to always put that smile on your face.

“Not such a Scrooge after all, eh?”

You turn from the still-life view outside and back to Namjoon, where he stands at the foot of the bed. He looks so different outside the office. He’s wearing skinny jeans and a flannel shirt, his puffy jacket hanging by the door. No cream suit, no slicked back hair or shoes shiny enough to see your reflection. Just simply Namjoon.

He’s no longer the man who steals the limelight in the office. He’s no longer the man you see as your adversary or your rival.

He’s the man who’s showing you the magic of Christmas, the spirit of love and kindness that embodies the season.

He’s the man you’ve fallen in love with.

And yet, he’s the man who will leave once this is over and return to his proper life, and you to yours. He’ll return to sleeping with models and movie starlets, and you’ll return to binge watching Great British Bake-Off with Jimin and a carton of Chicken Tikka Masala.

And Christmas will never feel as special as it does now.

So, you’re determined to soak in it for a little longer. It’s going to hurt regardless, so why not push that hurt off until tomorrow and allow yourself to pretend you live the lie you’re spinning for Namjoon’s family?

“I think I’ll just freshen up and change into my dinner outfit, then?” You ask out loud, grabbing for your overnight bag and heading towards the ensuite.

Namjoon, who expected a witty retort, takes a moment to reply.

“Oh,” he coughs. “Yeah, sure. I’ll err—, I’ll just get ready out here.”

You quickly escape into the bathroom, closing the door and resting on it as you exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

The tension in the bedroom with Namjoon was too thick, too powerful, especially after the kiss you just shared. His cock had been there, straining in his jeans as you licked into his mouth. The kiss felt so natural, as if you had always kissed Namjoon like that. Your heart beats loud and hard in your chest just from the thought of it.

You really needed to get a handle over yourself. You still have dinner to get through, and an entire night in a bedroom with Namjoon. A bed with Namjoon.

No, you won’t allow yourself to go that far. You can pretend you’re his girlfriend, but all thoughts of his delectable body doing scintillating things to yours is strictly off-limits. You shake all thoughts of a thick, heavy cock sliding into your mouth and warm hands spreading you open, and set about fixing your makeup and changing into the gorgeous cocktail dress you purchased for the occasion. It wasn’t often you got to get dressed up. The emerald green velvet dress clings to your body and highlights your curves. It’s a sexy dress, definitely, but also appropriate for a formal evening with your boyfriend’s parents.

Well, your fake boyfriend. Right.

After fixing your hair and buckling your heels, you take one last glimpse in the mirror for good luck and exit the room.

Your breath is nearly knocked out of your lungs as you see Namjoon.

You’ve seen him dressed up for court and for TV appearances millions of times, but you’ve never seen him like this.

He wears a blood red button up without a tie, a few buttons open to emphasize the casual look, tucked into the tightest and sexiest slacks you’ve ever seen. They hug his thighs and sit at a spot on his waist that you just know is rippling with cut lines from his work in the gym. His hair is tucked back with a bit of hairspray, and he’s fixing the sleeves of his shirt when he sees you.

His eyes widen and his hands fall to his sides as he soaks in your appearance.

An absolute vision.

He can see the gentle valley between your breasts and the way your dress pushes up your cleavage and displays your collar. The dress follows the delicate curve of your waist and hips and ends at your knee, but teases him with a glimpse of thigh that has him wiping his mouth in case he’s drooling.

“You look incredible,” Namjoon murmurs as you step closer.

“So do you.”

You swallow hard as he continues closer to you, breathing harshly as he stands right in front of you. You could reach out and unbuckle his expensive slacks and fist his cock right there. You’d fall on your knees for him, if he asked.

There’s a moment of silence as Namjoon’s face inches closer and closer to your own, each unable to verbalize just how desperate either of you feel for the other.

“Namjoon, I—,” you start. You want to tell him. You want to tell him everything—that you don’t want this to be fake, that you want this to be real, and you want to be his and his forever.

“Yes?”

You swallow hard, shaken by just how close his lips are to yours. He’s inches away and all you can focus on is the way his plush lips look and how well they fit against your own under the mistletoe.

“I just—, I really um, I’m just very…”

You’re not making sense. Comprehension of language is quickly soaring out the window because the only words you know are ‘Please, for the love of God, kiss me and make me yours’, but you can’t bring yourself to speak them out loud.

Namjoon’s hand cups your cheek, as if he can tell what you’re trying to say.

“Yeah,” he breathes. The inches between you turn to centimeters, to bare millimeters. Your eyes flutter close as you feel his breath dance over your lips and your heart beats so loud you’re sure the entire household can hear it. He’s right there and moves in to close the distance—

“Knock Knock!!”

The forceful, cheery voice of cousin Jungkook forces both of you to jump away from each other as if you’ve touched a burning stove. Your head feels light, like you’ve forgotten to breathe for the last ten minutes and you’ve suddenly taken in too much air.

The wooden door squeaks open and Jungkook pokes his head in, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Auntie sent me to get you. It’s dinnertime!”

Namjoon rubs his face frustratedly. “Yes, thank you, Jungkook.”

Jungkook doesn’t leave, however. He smiles at you and winks.

“Would you like an escort to dinner, madame? You look tastier than the roast beef downstairs.”

A blush creeps over your cheeks as Namjoon storms to the door where his cousin laughs.

“That’s enough, Kook. We’ll be down in a minute.”

He sends you one more grin, then retreats from the door and closes it behind him.

“Sorry about that,” Namjoon apologizes. You’re not sure what he’s apologizing for—Jungkook, or the moment before.

“It’s alright. Let’s go?”

Namjoon nods and holds out his hand with a smile.

“Let’s go, girlfriend.”

Dinner with the Kim family is as delightful as every other interaction with them has been. They’re polite and funny and ask questions about your life and your family.

They ask how you met Namjoon (at work), what your favorite quality about him is (his smile and his ass), and what your first date together was (coffee at seven in the morning).

You tell stories of Namjoon in the office, of your best friend Park Jimin who’s secretly trying to date the IT manager, of your parents and Christmases past.

By the time dessert is served, Namjoon’s mother looks at you as if you’ve put the very stars in the sky.

Namjoon doesn’t miss that look either. He can see the way his family is falling in love with you and somewhere deep in his stomach, he feels the guilt rising. All of this is a lie. Not only is he going to break his own heart, but every heart of his family member’s too.

“We’re all just so overjoyed that Namjoon has found someone to share his life with,” his mom speaks softly. It’s the first time she’s been thoughtful and quiet. She’s a woman who’s larger than life, you’ve found, so the softness in her tone strikes a chord. “You’re absolutely perfect for him. I’ve never seen him happier.”

Fuck.

“Thank you,” you murmur sincerely to his mother. “I’ve never been happier.”

Namjoon peers up from where he’s been pushing around his uncle’s famous chocolate cake on his plate to watch as you speak.

“Truthfully, I never cared much for Christmas. I thought it was a rubbish holiday and spent it alone every year with a bottle of wine and some takeout. Namjoon really changed that for me,” you smile at the man and place your hand in his lap to hold his free hand. “He showed me more about Christmas in one week than I’ve felt in my entire life.”

Namjoon’s mom wipes away an errant tear and he squeezes your hand under the table.

“I guess the Grinch’s heart has grown 3 sizes, after all.”

Namjoon’s joke lightens the soft mood, and suddenly there’s chatter around as the family members move about to wash dishes and clean up the mess of dinner. Everyone leaves the table except for you and Namjoon.

“That was some good acting,” he whispers with a sad smile.

“Right,” you whisper back, nibbling your lip anxiously. “Acting, of course.”

You should have thought through the bedroom sharing thing more.

Because sharing a bedroom is one thing.

And sharing a bed is another.

And of course, the only pajamas you thought to bring tonight is a very sexy long shirt that says “no coffee, no talking” with a bedazzled pair of shushing lips. That’s it. Just a single shirt. Not even a pair of shorts or pajama pants.

You slip into the bed first, as far onto one side of it as possible. It’s a king sized bed, and it still feels too intimate, too close.

Namjoon exits the bathroom after his shower, rubbing at his wet hair with a towel. He’s shirtless, wearing only a pair of flannel pajamas, leaving his bare chest on display.

Sweet lord in heaven, you nearly cry out loud. He’s absolutely ripped, pecs defined and droplets of water from his hair streaming down. You want to chase each drop with your tongue and circle back again. You shut your eyes tight and clench your teeth. Why, oh why, does he have to look so fucking sexy at a time like this?

Namjoon sees you at the edge of the bed, shutting your eyes closed like you’re a shy schoolgirl afraid to see a naked man’s body. He feels guilty for making you be here. He knows you’ve likely got better things to do than spend time with a man you openly hate.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes for nothing in particular.

You ignore it. Instead, you’re trying to think of every un-sexy thing in the world you can possibly imagine. Taxes, a bunch of bees, old people, shark attacks.

There’s absolutely nothing that can stop the image of Namjoon’s perfectly sculpted body from bursting into your mind. You’re nearly pleading with yourself to just go to sleep and contemplate how hard you’d need to hit your head to knock yourself out as fast as possible.

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” he says as he grabs a small throw blanket from the closet and throws it to the ground by the fire.

It snaps you from your musings of how best to forget how badly you want to suck Namjoon’s cock through his pajama pants.

“What?” You sit up in the posh bed and finally make eye-contact. “Why? It’s freezing. There’s a literal snowstorm outside.” You motion to the window of the balcony. What was once a gentle snowfall is now a full-on winter storm.

“There’s a fire. I’ll be fine, I sleep hot anyway.” Namjoon’s voice is low and without energy. He almost sounds sad.

God, is being with you that hard for him? You know you’re just the artificial replacement until he has the real thing, but you’d actually hoped Namjoon had found it as comforting and warm as you had.

“Namjoon,” you sigh. “This is a king-sized bed. You don’t need to be waking up with back pain because you gallantly slept on the floor.”

To emphasize your point, you tug back the blankets on the other side, beckoning him to join.

He hesitates for a moment, as if he’s weighing the pro’s and con’s and sliding into bed next to you in his mind, then stands and pads his way on the plush carpet towards the bed and slips in.

There’s an entire football field of distance between you two in the bed, but it feels like he’s right beside you. You imagine sliding in right next to him, wrapping your arms around his taut chest and pressing soft kisses to his stomach.

You squeeze your eyes closed again. Stop it, you horny slut.

“Thank you, again.” Namjoon breaks the silence. “I really appreciate you helping me out.”

“Yeah,” you swallow hard. “Of course. What else was I going to do? Jimin’s probably sucking Yoongi’s dick right now, so I’d be watching baking shows alone.”

Namjoon laughs for a moment, then quiets.

“You know, I don’t even really want that promotion at work.”

You’re surprised by the sudden change in topic, but you turn over to face Namjoon.

“What?! Really?”

Namjoon nods and stares at the ceiling. “I don’t think I’m that good of an attorney to get it, anyway.”

His statement makes you sit up in bed again, staring at the man in disbelief.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Namjoon? You’re the best lawyer in the firm.”

Namjoon says nothing, just turns to stare at you curiously as you continue.

“You’re like… literally better than Seokjin, too. The way you handled the Taehyung case was nothing short of historical. Like, that was an impossible case, and you nailed it. That was your ‘OJ’ case, you know?”

Namjoon barks a laugh.

“My what?”

“Your OJ case!” You use your hands to emphasize the importance of what you’re saying. “Like, they’ll write about you and how impossible the odds were of winning that case. And you won it! Not even Seokjin could have won that case.”

He’s silent again, watching as you speak directly from your heart with all the fire and passion you feel about the things you care about. It’s what makes you such an incredible lawyer, too.

“Wow,” he breathes. “Thank you.”

You settle back down from your excitement, suddenly bashful at how fanatical you became.

“You’re welcome,” you murmur. “You deserve that promotion. And the office.”

Namjoon smirks.

“And the Nespresso?”

Your eyes narrow and send a glare to him he can see even with the faintest of light in the room.

“No, no one deserves the Nespresso, except for me.”

He chuckles and settles down into his pillows.

“Goodnight,” he whispers.

“Goodnight, Namjoon.”

There’s a beat of silence and your eyes flutter shut easily. It’s quiet, and all you can hear is the crackle of the log in the fireplace and the wind blowing past the balcony windows as the storm outside rages.

“Oh,” Namjoon whispers again. “And, Merry Christmas.”

You can’t fight the smile that creeps onto your face.

“Merry Christmas, Joonie.”

“Happy Christmas!” A voice bellows through your bedroom at approximately seven fifteen am.

You groan, immediately grimacing and burying your face into your firm, warm pillow.

“Nooooo,” you whine, trying to hide from the offending noise.

Namjoon shakes awake, and notices Jungkook standing at the bedroom door once again.

“It’s time for presents!” He giddily explains. “And, they gave me the job of waking you two up.”

“Of course,” Namjoon yawns.

“You look a little wrapped up,” Jungkook smirks, eyeing your sleeping body. “I’ll give you two a minute. Don’t get distracted.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes and watches as the door closes, before he turns his attention towards you.

Somehow, in the middle of the night, you’ve scooched yourself to his side of the bed and draped your body around his. Your face is buried in his chest and your legs are haphazardly intertwined in his own.

He bites his lip. His cock is rock solid, not just from his usual morning wood, but from the way he can feel your tits through your shirt, and from the sight of your pink panties. Namjoon wants to take them off with his teeth and bury his face in your delicious cunt, and his cock is nearly screaming at him to get on with it.

“Hey,” he whispers to you, actively ignoring the demon that is his turgid length. “Wake up.”

This causes you to cling harder to his chest, rubbing your sleepy face on him.

“What is it with you and early mornings?” You ask, blearily raising your head to peer at him judgementally.

Namjoon bites his lip, curious about your reaction to the tight embrace you’ve got on him. He doesn’t want to say anything, doesn’t want to break the spell. Frankly, he wants to push your sleep shirt up and stuff you full of his cum.

“Merry Christmas?” He offers shyly.

You take a full minute to recognize what’s happening.

You’re no longer on your edge of the bed. You’re wrapped around the man like a koala, legs strewn over him without care and clinging to him like he’s a lifeline.

“Oh!” You gasp as you jerk out of his grasp.

In your movement, your leg brushes over an obvious tent in Namjoon’s pants, making him groan softly. You shut your eyes, embarrassed at how disgustingly horny you are for the man who’s not even interested in you sexually.

“Christ, I’m so sorry,” your cheeks flame bright red and you scoot further from him.

“No, no, don’t be,” Namjoon wheezes as he tries to fix himself. “It’s fine. It’s more than fine. It’s great. It happens. Don’t worry.”

He continues to stammer out reassurances as he leaves the bed and bolts into the bathroom to fix his unruly tented pants, leaving you sitting atop the bed washed with shame.

“Fucking hell,” you whisper to yourself as you rub at your cheeks. “Get a grip of yourself.”

Inside the bathroom, it only takes Namjoon a few fisted jerks of his cock and the mental image of you beneath him, begging for him, until he’s silently cumming on an expensive towel. He bites his free hand to stifle the moans he makes as his cock pulses.

By the time he arrives back in the bedroom, you’ve changed into a hoodie and yoga leggings that accentuate your ass so delectably that Namjoon thinks about turning right back into the bathroom for a second round.

“I’m sorry!” You nearly shout when he walks into the room. “About the bed. You were warm and I was cold. That’s all.”

Nmajoon simply nods, doesn’t want to have to explain how he wishes he could wake up like that every day. Doesn’t want to describe in vivid detail how he’d wake you up with his tongue buried deep in your cunt.

“Let me grab a shirt and we’ll head out, yeah?”

Your eyes dance over the defined ridges of his body, a little crest-fallen at the idea that this might be the last time you see him shirtless, but you nod anyway.

“Yeah.”

The ring box sits in a deceptively large box beneath the tree. Namjoon wrapped it last night and hide it at the very back. His heartbeat hammers in his ears as his family passes around gifts and opens each with squeals of delight.

His mother gave him new ties for the office, ones that Namjoon prefers. She’s even gifted you with jewelry, which makes your eyes water at the sentiment.

It all begins to be too much. It’s harder and harder to hold back the tears as each of Namjoon’s family members gives you gifts. It doesn’t matter the value, not at all. The fact that they specifically set out to include you in their gift-unwrapping makes your heart snap in two.

This is all too much, it’s too real.

It’s everything you never dreamed you could have. A loving partner who lets you sit in the space of his legs and rubs your arms soothingly. A family who goes out of their way to include you in the abundance of love and company. A cabin so warm and cozy.

The tears don’t stop.

It’s at the end of the gift exchange that you finally allow yourself to breathe.

“There’s one more,” Namjoon whispers as he moves from behind you and fetches a large box from behind the tree. “It’s for you, princess.”

Curiously, and suspiciously, you eye him as he sets the enormous gift in your lap. You had done nearly all his Christmas shopping with him, and can’t remember a single thing he would have gotten for you.

“I hope it’s the Nespresso from your office,” you snark with a smile. His family members all laugh and exchange knowing looks to each other.

Namjoon doesn’t think he can breathe. He watches as you begin to carefully unwrap the large box, which reveals another box, slightly smaller. He can’t help but grin as you continue to unwrap the nesting-doll style gift until you’re down to the smallest one, the one that holds the ring box.

With one last tear of paper, your eyes widen as you recognize the velvet box.

“Oh--,” you breathe as you delicately pry open the gift.

Inside sits a dazzling and gorgeous diamond ring. It catches the light from the fire and sparkles like a firecracker.

“Oh my god,” you whimper as the tears flow again.

He’s proposing.

Namjoon settles himself onto one knee and tucks an errant piece of hair behind your ears.

“You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. I knew from day one that you were always the girl I wanted to marry,”

Namjoon’s speech sends daggers to your heart. He’s so convincing for something so counterfeit.

“I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember, much longer than we’ve been together. You’re who I want to come home to every night, and who I want to wake up with every morning.”

It hurts. It hurts so badly that you’re crying even harder as he continues to speak. His family must think you’re simply overcome with emotion and love that the crying doesn’t give it away, but inside you’re absolutely dying.

There’s no way you can recover from this.

Tomorrow, Namjoon will take the ring back to where he got it from and return to what he had before. He’ll leave you behind, broken and hopelessly in love with a man who faked a relationship so well that you fell for it, hard.

“____, will you marry me?”

You take several large, gulping gasps to reply. You can’t shatter the illusion. Namjoon’s parents are weeping with joy, while his relatives record the moment on their phones and wipe away errant tears. Even Jungkook looks soft, proud of his cousin for taking the next step in his life.

Oh, how you wish this were all real.

“Yes,” you lie with a smile. “Yes, Namjoon, of course!”

Namjoon grins and pulls you to standing, gathering you in his arms as he hugs you tight. His family cheers and hollers in the background, and you sob into his shoulder as you cling to him.

He easily slides the diamond ring out of the box and onto your finger, where it sits and taunts you. The weight is heavy, and you whimper at the realization that this will never be for you. It will sit atop a pretty model’s finger sometime soon, when Namjoon resumes his regular life.

“Oh, my darlings, I am so happy for you!” Namjoon’s mother appears and wraps you both in a hug, weeping and kissing cheeks. “We must discuss planning!”

It’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back. The tears and weeping turn to wracking sobs, which quiets the family as they watch you hold your face in your hands.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize through your grief. “I—I just need a moment.”

Without another word, you turn from the scene and bolt back towards the bedroom.

It’s silent and Namjoon’s heart sinks.

This must be too much for you, too much for you to pretend to love him. He knew it was too much and he should have discussed it with you beforehand.

“She’s just a little err--,” Namjoon tries. “Easily emotional. I’ll go check on her.”

His family understands as Namjoon hurries towards the bedroom and gently opens the door.

You’re sitting over your overnight bag, trying to shove any clothing into it you can, while you sob openly.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I should have told you. I sort of... told my mom I’d be proposing to my girlfriend.”

There’s pain in your eyes as you snap your head up to look at him. It nearly destroys him.

“You should have warned me!” You gasp. “Namjoon, I can’t do this.”

Namjoon lowers his head and shoves his hands into his pockets of his pajama pants.

“I get it. I know you want to go back to your regular life. I can take you home now.”

You’re silent for a moment, standing and moving towards the man.

“Don’t you get it, Namjoon?”

He raises his head to look at you curiously, brow knitted together with confusion.

“I’m in love with you, you asshole!” You cry, pushing at his chest. “I can’t continue to pretend this is real anymore. I love you, I absolutely love you and I can’t go on watching you pretend you love me too. It’s too much for me to handle.”

Namjoon’s world freezes in time as he watches you slide the ring off your finger. He grasps your hand to stop you, his eyes boring into your own.

“I never had to pretend.”

Before you can speak, Namjoon cups your cheek and pulls you in close, mouth sealing over your own in a desperate kiss.

You don’t fight it, not at all. You sink into his grasp and kiss him back with fervor, with all the pent-up emotions you’ve held back all this time.

“I’m in love with you,” he whispers as he pulls away from the kiss. “I meant every single word I said.”

More tears stream down your cheeks, and Namjoon is quick to wipe them away with his thumb.

“I know it’s maybe too soon for us to really be engaged, but I—I want that, with you,” he adds. “I want you to be my girlfriend… for real.”

“Are you being serious right now?” You ask as your hands cling to Namjoon’s waist.

He can’t help but to laugh, nodding in reassurance as he leans down to press his lips to yours in a tender kiss.

“Never been more serious in my life.”

“I can’t believe you’re mine,” Joon murmurs into the nape of your neck.

You were supposed to be driving home to your apartment now, back to real life, but the snowstorm raged on and Namjoon decided it might be best to spend yet another night in the cabin. Together. As a couple. A real couple.

You didn’t put up much of a fight.

He’s pressing soft kisses into your tender skin as he closes the door to the bedroom.

“All mine, all mine.” He chants it like a mantra.

You’re trying to maneuver your way into the dark bedroom, only guided by the light from the fireplace. Namjoon stops you and pulls away from your neck, eyes soaking in every inch of you.

“You have no idea what I’ve been dying to do to you,” he speaks after a moment of appreciating your beauty.

“Hmm, I think I have some idea,” you say, a finger at Namjoon’s chest, directing him towards the bed. “I’ve been dying to suck your cock, Joon,” you whisper in his ear as he makes his way backwards. “Will you let me?”

Namjoon nods in a daze as he sits on the edge of the bed and watches as you kneel. Your eyes are full of hope, full of lust. It makes his cock harden further.

“Please do,” he breathes. “I’ve wondered what you’d look like with your mouth full of my dick.”

You smile as you tug at his flannel pajama pants, pulling them down thick thighs and calves until they’re completely off. Your mouth waters at the sight before you. Namjoon’s cock is thick, head weeping with pre-cum and straining hard against his taut chest. He’s been working out more, you can tell. His arms are full and strong, and his chest is so firm and defined.

He’s an entire three-course meal.

Before you move closer to his cock, Namjoon stops you.

“Take your shirt off.”

You comply easily, already settling well into an obedient role. He discards the shirt to the side and marvels at your breasts. He can’t wait to mark them up, suck them until you’re crying.

“Perfect,” he sighs. “You’re fucking perfect.”

He allows you to resume your work, eyeing the length of his cock before wrapping a hand around it and gently pumping.

“Shit,” he breathes as his head falls back. “I’ve dreamt about how it’d feel having my cock in your hands.”

“What else have you dreamed about?” You ask with a teasing smile, bringing your lips to the tip to paint tiny stripes. He tastes salty, somewhat earthy, and the pre-cum that’s gathered at the top gets swept up by your tongue.

Namjoon can’t believe how lucky he is. Can’t believe how incredible it feels to have you here, licking at his cock like a lollipop. He’s enchanted by the way your delicate tongue swirls around his head, testing and teasing.

“You look so good, princess,” he whispers as he tucks stray hair behind your ears.

You’re encouraged by his sweet-talk and soon descend to take his cock fully in as far as you can go. You’re definitely out of practice, but you steel yourself up to take him completely to the back of your throat. Namjoon’s desperate moans and cursing only encourages you further.

Soon enough, you’ve started a rhythm of bobbing your head and swirling your tongue and pumping your hand down his thick length. The noises leaving your mouth are sinful—slurping and sucking and whining around him. Namjoon’s got a hand on the back of your head, holding your hair in a makeshift ponytail and coaxing your bouncing head further down his cock.

“Oh, shit, baby,” he grits through a tight jaw. “I’m gonna cum baby girl, fuuuuckkk—oh god, yes baby, just like that.”

You slurp and swallow around his cock as much as you can, head bobbing at a frantic pace while you cast your eyes upwards to the man to watch him come apart. He meets your eye contact and loses it at the fire burning in your beautiful eyes.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he gasps as his cock pulses. “Cumming, baby—ohhhh, shit, take it all, baby.”

After slowing your pace completely, you sweetly moan around his length as his salty cum splatters on your tongue. Bringing Namjoon to climax with your mouth is already one of your favorite hobbies, and you’re desperate to do it again.

When he’s completely spent in your mouth, you pop off carefully and present your tongue to your boyfriend, who smiles.

“You gonna swallow my cum, baby girl?” He asks, cupping your cheek sweetly.

You nod in reply, and he groans as he watches you close your mouth and visibly swallow his load.

“Fuck, that was so hot. Fucking kiss me already,” he demands, pulling you up gently by the hand and pressing his mouth to yours. He doesn’t care if he can taste himself still lingering in your mouth. In fact, he thinks your mouth should always taste like him.

Namjoon holds you close as he kisses you, tongue diving around and seeking purchase in your mouth. His hands are roaming your body, cupping your breasts and caressing your curves. He can’t get enough. He doesn’t think there will come a time in his life when he won’t love touching you.

His hand smoothes over the satin of your panties and he smirks into the kiss as he feels how wet they are.

“Oh my,” he tuts as he rubs at your clothed slit. “All this from sucking my cock, princess?”

It’s too late to be ashamed of it. You simply nod and whimper as his thick fingers rub at your core. You’re dying to feel those fingers inside you, scissoring you open to prepare you for his massive cock.

“P-please,” you gasp, needing more of him. “Please, Joon.”

He lets out a breath of contentment, loving the way his name sounds in your breathy moans. In one quick swoop, he flings your panties off and onto the floor and slides down to his knees where you knelt moments before.

“I want to see this pretty pussy up close,” he murmurs as he lays you out at the edge and spreads open your thighs as wide as he can.

You’re gorgeous, absolutely mouth-watering. He licks his lips as he watches your folds drip with arousal and takes a delicate finger to trace the slit gently.

“Fuck,” you gasp as he swirls his finger around your sensitive clit. It’s been so long since someone else has made you orgasm, you’re sure you won’t last a second with the man of your sexual dreams face-first in your cunt.

“This is my pussy now,” he states as he leans in close and licks a fat stripe from your hole to your clit. “I’m going to make you cum every fucking night, baby. Gonna claim this cunt as my own.”

You’re trembling from his words and his actions as he soon buries his face into your pussy and eats as if he’s a man starved. His tongue swirls around your hole before swiping up to your clit, making your back arch and keen off the bed. His lips wrap around your throbbing clit and sucks gently, lewd noises echoing off the walls of the bedroom.

“Namjoon!” You squeal as he slides two of his fingers inside you and slowly pumps. They’re thick and perfect, and they’re better than you could have ever dreamed.

“Cum for me, baby,” he coaxes as he licks at your clit. “I know you want to.”

He’s right. You’re desperate for it and the string inside your belly that tightens with each thrust of his solid fingers has it nearing a snapping point.

Namjoon speeds up, adds a third finger and fucks into you like a man on a mission. He watches your face pinch in agonized delight and is hypnotized by the way your tits bounce with each thrust up. His cock is rock solid again, aching to bury itself deep inside your womb and coat you with his cum.

“That’s it, baby girl,” he breathes as he watches your body quiver. “Cum on my fingers, let daddy see you fall apart.”

He presses his lips to your clit one last time and sucks, and it sends you reeling over the edge into bliss. Namjoon moans as he feels your cunt convulse and squeeze his fingers as if they’re his cock, and he nearly whines at how good it’s going to feel when he’s balls deep inside of you.

“Fuck!” You cry as your back lifts off the bed and your legs shake. “Oh, my god!”

Namjoon kitten licks at your pussy as you come down, cleaning up the juices that coat his fingers. He doesn’t break eye contact with you as he does it, sucking up your essence like it’s an expensive wine he won’t waste a drop of.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he says as you try to catch your breath. “I can’t wait to fuck you in my office.”

The smile on your face turns lustful as you spread your legs open once again and present yourself to him.

“Why don’t we practice right now?”

Namjoon grips the base of his cock and gives himself a few pumps as he stares at your gorgeous body—laid out and ready for him.

“Merry Christmas to me,” he murmurs as he presses a kiss to your lips and lines himself up.

In one swift motion, he slips inside your juicy channel and buries himself to the hilt. You’re so wet and warm and tight that Namjoon falters and groans out loud.

“Holy shit,” he cries. “Sweetest fucking pussy I’ve ever felt in my life.”

Namjoon filling you up to the brim is something you’ve only ever dreamt of, and now that it’s happening you feel intoxicated. He’s so thick inside you, stretching you past what you thought you could handle, and the burn is so sweet.

“Fuck me, Joon,” you beg as he continues to still inside you. “Please, fuck me, daddy.”

It’s the magic word for Namjoon and instantly he’s snapped back to feral, ready to claim you as his own. He grips your hips tightly as he pumps in and out of you, delighted by the squelching juicy sounds of your cunt as he takes you.

“That’s right, baby girl, I’m your fucking daddy,” he grunts. “Take this fat cock for daddy.”

Your legs quiver with each thrust and Namjoon sucks a nipple into his mouth, nibbling gently on the bud which makes your body thrum with electricity. He’s marking you, claiming you inside and out, you realize. You whine and keen for him to continue, and Namjoon growls as he doubles his pace.

He thrusts into you without abandon, desperately seeking his release that will have him spilling his cum anywhere he possibly can.

“Mmm, look at my pretty princess,” he groans as he stares at your blissed-out face. “Taking daddy’s cock so good, being a perfect little slut.”

His words make your eyes roll back into your head. You’d never had someone speak so nasty to you while being so kind and praise-worthy that you don’t think you can now ever live without it.

“G-gonna cum, daddy!” you cry as you feel your body nearing the edge. “Please let me cum!”

Namjoon gasps for air and drops a thumb to your clit to rub circles on the sensitive bundle.

“Yes, baby girl, cum for daddy. Cum on my cock, princess.”

Namjoon’s unrelenting pace and thumb handily stroking your clit brings you to the end, sending you screaming into orgasmic delight.

Namjoon nearly weeps at how good your cunt feels convulsing around his cock, walls coaxing him and gripping him tight as if your pussy is begging for his own release.

“Cum inside me daddy, please,” you beg as you try to catch your breath.

Namjoon needs no more permission. He gasps as your channel tightens around him impossibly and sends him into his own release. He whimpers as his cock pulses with ferocity, loads of cum splattering your walls.

He doesn’t pull out. Instead, he rests his sweaty forehead on yours as you both try to catch your breath.

“Holy shit,” you gasp as you feel yourself returning to Earth.

Namjoon laughs and presses a kiss to your lips, before nodding.

“Yeah,” is all he can manage.

After a few shuddering breaths, you wrap your arms around your boyfriend’s naked body and hold him close, as close as you can.

“If this is what Christmas is all about, sign me up.”

Namjoon buries his face into your neck and kisses you sweetly, before lifting and giving you a playful smile.

“I guess all Scrooge needed was a good fuck. Dickens got that part all wrong.”

Returning to work after the New Year was easier this year than it had ever been in your career.

Namjoon was given the promotion. He told Seokjin he wanted to keep his corner office near you because he “likes the view”, and that he would give all his top cases to the best lawyer in the office—you.

Jimin won’t stop screaming when he sees the diamond ring on your finger. You haven’t wanted to take it off since the moment you put it on. Maybe it’s not an engagement ring quite yet, maybe it’s just more of a promise. Either way, Jimin is ecstatic and confused as he shakes you down for answers.

He walks with you to your desk, chattering away about his week with Yoongi, while you sip your convenience store coffee.

“What the fuck?” Jimin asks as he notices something on your desk. “What is that?”

As you round the corner, your eyes catch sight of a gleaming silver contraption on your desk, right next to your brand new computer.

A Nespresso.

A smile crosses your lips as you approach the expensive machine and notice a folded up card on top.

Inside, the card is simple.

“To the only girl in the world who deserves a Nespresso. Love, Namjoon.”

taglist - @ardoren @devilion14 @bykookie @rageyoudamnednerd @holynamtiddies @thejooncrew @dee-ehn @yrc1963 @fireheart2003

#bts smut #bts fanfic #kim namjoon smut #rm smut #namjoon smut #ficswithluv #rockin around the christmas tropes #bts imagines #bts reactions #kim namjoon imagines

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nebulablakemurphy · 3 years

Text

Miss American Pie

Chapter Three: Bye Bye

Warning: This series features a romantic Yelena Belova x Fem!Reader relationship.

Summary: After freeing the widows from chemical subjugation and destroying the red room, you and Yelena finally settle down.

Part 1 & Part 2

The widows welcome you, the ones you trained with and the ones you didn’t. After Dreykov was gone and you had nothing but time. Melina and Alexei go to work on replicating the antidote. Creating enough to free all chemically subjugated agents.

It’ll take time. But the more you free the more are willing to help. Some of the widows just leave once they are given freedom. Ready to wash their hands of all of this and start living. You understand that more than anything. Eventually the operation is running on such a large scale they hardly need you at all.

Natasha hasn’t reached out since you separated after the red room. Probably off with the Avengers trying to save the world again. No one blames her, for her inability to be still. Not even Yelena.

“So,” you plop down on the couch beside Yelena. “What’s the plan now?”

“I don’t know.” She admits, staring up at the ceiling. “To be honest, I didn’t think I was going to make it this far.”

“Yeah.” You tug at a loose strand of her dirty blonde hair. “That makes two of us.”

“We could pretend to be normal.” Yelena offers. “What would a normal person do?”

“Don’t know,” you shrug. “I’ve never been one.”

“Maybe...settle down.” Yelena’s eyes are far away.

“Would you have wanted to-“ You break off, trying to sort out the words. “I mean if you could…would you have a baby?”

She raises her brows, “I never thought about it.” A long pause. “I wouldn’t know how to be a mother.”

Neither would you. You’ll never be right. Whatever that is, was, or might have been. Always a little too guarded and rough around the edges. “You never waste time thinking about things you can’t have.” You sink farther into the cushions, her pinky skates over your own. Taking the invitation you twine your fingers together.

“I thought about you.” She lowers her eyes to the coffee table. “Everyday. Until I couldn’t anymore.”

“I-“

“The red room took that from me too.”

You shake your head at her. “They can never take anything from you or anyone else ever again,” you whisper. “And to be clear you can have me.”

A laugh rumbles out of her chest at the news. “I can?”

“I mean if you still want me.” You tease, “I know that the chase is half the fun for you. So I can keep on running. I’m one foot out the door-“

“I am tired of running.” Yelena murmurs, curling up against your side.

“Me too.” Your chin rests atop her head.

“Then stop doing it!” She scolds, slapping your arm playfully in retaliation.

“I will if you will.” You know why she runs. The same reason you do. Because you’re afraid. That maybe some parts of you are too broken to love.

She mulls it over for a moment. “Truce. I don’t run. You don’t run.”

“Deal.” You give her fingers a squeeze.

“Except into the face of danger.” She clarifies, only half kidding. “Then we run, straight ahead.” Yelena motions with her free hand. “But together.”

“Together.” You agree, with a soft smile.

“We could get a dog.” The tone of her voice tells you that she is invested in the idea.

“I wouldn’t mind a dog.” You prop your feet up on the coffee table.

Yelena hates anything but a straight answer. Still feeling the need to convince you, she presents the facts. “Dogs are really cool! They have special powers.”

You chuckle, “dogs do not have powers.”

“Yes!” Yelena argues, “they can predict natural disasters and judge character.”

“That’s a special power?” You quip, “I can do that too.”

She grumbles under her breath.

“I want one.” You sigh. Feeling all the tension leave her body.

“I knew you did.” She smiles, contently.

———————————————————————

Dogs might have powers, but the only thing your puppy currently seems to posses is the ability to chew up anything in her path.

“Yelena have you seen my-“ you pause, taking in the scene before you, “shoes.”

“Don’t be angry,” Yelena holds up a hand.

The tiny puppy beside her squeaks, not quite a bark yet. Your demolished sneaker tumbling to the ground.

“What happened?” You run both hands over your face.

She sweeps the dog into her arms. “I told Fanny we could go for a walk once you got out of the shower. She was excited, Y/N! She was trying to bring your shoes to you. But she got distracted, only a little.”

“A little?” You can’t help but smile.

“Look at this face,” Yelena waves Fanny’s paw at you. “You can’t be mad at this face. Tell her girl. Say, you can’t be mad at me Mom, I’m trying my best.” She brings the dog closer.

You raise a hand to pet Fanny lightly. Yelena’s right of course, there is no being mad at that face. “Let me find a pair of shoes that isn’t mangled. Then we’ll go for a walk.”

“I’ll wait with Fanny.”

“Of course you will.” You retreat to your bedroom. Rummaging through the closet in search of some sort of footwear. You’d settle for slippers at this point. Fanny joins you after a moment. Nuzzling at your ankle as she whines.

It’s not everyday that she follows you, she is Yelena’s dog and never lets you forget it. “You’re really excited aren’t you?” More whining. You scoop Fanny up. “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

You huff, finally locating a pair of sandals. Slipping them on quickly so you can return to Yelena and gloat about being Fanny’s favorite. “Hey baby, I don’t know what you did, but look.” You smile, gazing up as you present the dog…to an empty room. That’s odd. Maybe she’s waiting outside.

You grab the leash Yelena abandoned on the countertop, securing it to Fanny’s collar. “Come on girl. Let’s go find Mama. Where’s Mama?”

Fanny follows you out the door, onto the walkway.

“Yelena?”

Nothing.

You scan the area, no sign of her. “Ok…” Back into the house, you check the bathroom next.

“Yelena!” You shout, knowing you’ll feel stupid once she replies. But she doesn’t.

A buzzing from the cell phone in your back pocket draws your attention. You set Fanny down gently, accepting the call and moving the device up to your ear. “Alexei?”

“Y/N! Oh thank god!” His voice booms through the speaker.

“Are you ok?” You ask immediately. Leaning down to grab the television remote, turning to channel thirteen, still broadcasting it’s usual gameshow.

“I am alone.” He cries through the speaker. “Melina left me with her pigs.”

“What do you mean she left you?” Something is very wrong.

“She disappeared.” He says somberly, “didn’t even say goodbye. I don’t know what I did to deserve this.” The dramatic monologue continues. “I give her back rub every night and then-“

“No,” you cut him off. “Absolutely not.” Under no circumstance is he going to tell you what happens next.

“I have made mistakes, but this! This is cruel.” Alexei, clearly distraught begins cursing in Russian.

“Alexei, I know you’re upset but I need you to listen.”

“What?” He asks. “What is it?”

“Yelena is gone too.” You inform him. Your eyes flicker over the words at the bottom of your tv screen. “People disappeared all over the world.”

You fall back onto the couch, feeling all the air leave your lungs.

More hysteria on the other end of the line. “What are we going to do?”

“I’m gonna find Natasha. Maybe she knows something.” Assuming that Natasha is still here.

“What about me?”

“Come to Ohio. You can dog sit.” You offer, familiar numbness seeps into your limbs.

“I have nine pigs!” Alexei shouts back.

“We have a backyard, don’t worry.” You hang up before he has a chance to argue.

You return to the call screen. Scrolling to find a different contact. Pressing the dial button beside her name.

It rings. And rings. And rings. “Hello.”

“Natasha,” you let out the breath you’ve been holding. “What the hell happened?”

——————————————————————

The Avengers fortress isn’t exactly how you imagined. Not very homey.

You park your car in the lot. Removing your keys from the ignition and stowing them in your back pocket. The clear rectangular keychain with a picture of you and Yelena inside sticks out. Clinking when you round the vehicle to retrieve Fanny from the passenger seat. “Come on, Fanny.”

She wags her tail, waiting expectantly to be carried.

“You’re spoiled, you know.” You sigh, taking the puppy into your arms and closing the door behind you.

The front gate is open but Natasha takes a moment to locate. She cut her hair up to her shoulders, dyed it blonde. “Hello stranger.”

“You got a dog.” She says, in greeting.

“Yeah.” You reply, not in the mood for small talk. “It was Yelena’s idea.”

“I knew she’d sucker you into that.”

“It’s not like she could make me do anything I didn’t want to.” Your finger slides along the edge of the metal table Natasha’s seated behind.

She barks a laugh, “that’s a lie.”

Maybe so. “Nice place you’ve got here.”

“It’s not mine.”

“Still cool. I like the hair too,” you motion toward her blonde locks.

“That’s not really mine either, is it?” She remarks.

“Is anything ever really ours?”

“No.” She frowns. “I guess not.”

“What happened?” You ask again.

“It’s a long story,” Nat crosses both arms over her chest. “You might want to take a seat.”

You clear your throat, pulling out the chair beside her. Fanny curls up in your lap, curious eyes darting about every now and then. You tell yourself it’s because she’s in a new place, but part of you knows, she’s looking for Yelena.

Natasha stares down at her hands. “Have you ever heard of infinity stones?”

You shake your head. “Must be an avenger thing.”

“There were six of them, scattered all over the galaxy. If a person has all six they can use them in anyway they choose. Thanos, used them to eliminate half of all living creatures.”

“Are you the only one left?” You lean in.

“No.” She sniffs, blinking away tears. “There’s others.”

“So where are they?” The place looks abandoned. “Why aren’t you charging into battle?”

“Because we lost. Probably the worst we’ve ever lost.” Natasha clenches her jaw. “By the time we found Thanos again he already destroyed the stones.”

“We’ll try again.” You decide immediately. This isn’t over.

“Will we?” Natasha shakes her head with a smirk.

“If she was gone for good I would know it.” You tell her truthfully. “I would feel it, in my heart and I don’t.”

“You didn’t see it happen. I saw him snap his fingers and-“

You lay your hand over hers, squeezing tight.

“Did you see her go?” She asks, voice just above a whisper. “Yelena. Did you see her?”

“No.” You confess, “I didn’t see.”

Natasha closes her eyes. “That’s why you still have hope.”

“Look maybe you’re right.” You shrug, “even so, now seems like a really stupid time to give up.”

The corner of her mouth twitches. “What’s the dog’s name?”

“Fanny.” You inform her.

“Come on.” She rolls her blue eyes. “You’re kidding right? Tell me you didn’t actually name a dog after one of those stupid aliases Rick made me.”

“Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”

“I guess a dog’s better than a pig.” Natasha reasons. “Are they still here?”

“Not Melina.” You break the news quickly. Like tearing off a bandage. “But Alexei and all nine of her pigs are on their way to our house in Ohio.”

“Sounds crowded.”

“Always room for one more.”

——————————————————————

You stay like that for a long time. Hopeful. Sure that this was all some nightmare that you could wake up from; fight your way out of.

And then five years passed.

Now you come to see Natasha twice a month, just to check in. Alexei and his pigs have taken up permanent residency in the home you bought with Yelena. As for you, you bounce around. Never staying in one place too long.

“Any news?” You wonder, leaning against the doorframe of Natasha’s meeting room.

“No.” She bites out. Kicking her foot up on the desk. “You should move on.”

“Is that what you call this?” You flick your wrist in her direction. “Crying into a peanut butter sandwich.”

“It’s therapeutic.” She waves the bread at you. Tears welled up in her eyes. “You should try it sometime.”

“Nah.” You take a seat, reaching across to make a sandwich of your own. “It’s not the sandwich’s fault.”

“Am I interrupting the pity party?” Steve says, announcing his presence. Captain America is as self righteous as ever.

“Didn’t you grieve for a century over a girl you kissed one time?” You arch a brow at him, licking wayward peanut butter from the pad of your thumb. “Five years is just a drop in the bucket.”

Steve purses his lips, you have a point. “It wasn’t a century.”

“Close enough.” You mumble around a mouthful of your dinner.

“Want a bite?” Natasha offers half of her sandwich to him.

“No thanks.” He takes a step closer. “I’d offer to make you a real dinner, but already look pretty miserable. Where’s your dog?”

“Visiting her granddad.” Everyone and their mother loves that damn dog.

“Oh yeah, my great adversary.” How could he ever forget. “Is he still wearing that stupid suit?”

“I’m pretty sure the suits are stowed away. But it’s been a while since I’ve been there.” Your mind wanders to the vest. The one Natasha returned to you after Yelena was gone. The one you retired because it doesn’t smell like her anymore. Nothing does.

Most things remain untouched in the Ohio house. Your pictures. Your memories. Your plans. You can’t get rid of them. Can’t stomach being around them either.

Someone, a man, alerts the security cameras, pounding on the front door. “Hello? Is anyone home? Hello! Can you hear me?”

“How old is this video?” Steve asks, cocking his head to the side.

“It’s the front gate.” Natasha breathes, enlarging the image.

“Do we know him?” You squint at the man in question.

“It’s me, Scott Lang, Antman. I met you guys at the airport in Germany a few years ago. I had a mask on, you probably wouldn’t recognize me.” He rambles on.

Natasha presses the access panel, opening the gate.

You straighten yourselves out, before he makes it down the long hallway into the common room.

Scott paces, a lot. Nervously rubbing his hands together.

“Scott.” Steve finally cut in. “Are you ok?”

“Have any of you ever studied quantum physics?”

“Only to make conversation.” Nat says, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Ok. Alright so, five years ago. Right before Thanos. I was in the quantum realm. The quantum realm is like it’s own little microscopic universe. To get in there you have to be incredibly small. Hope, she’s my uh-“ he trails off. “She was my…she was- she was supposed to pull me out. And then Thanos happened and I got stuck in there.”

“I’m sorry that must have been a long five years.” Natasha apologies.

“That’s the thing, for me it wasn’t.” Scott replies. “It was five hours.”

“What a trip.” You snort, absently toying with your belt loop.

“The rules of time are different there. See everything is unpredictable.” He explains, getting distracted by the food in your hand. “Are you gonna finish that?”

“I guess not.” You hold it out to him.

He accepts, gratefully stuffing the bread into his mouth.

“Scott! What are you talking about?” Steve demands.

“So what I’m saying is time works differently in the quantum realm. The only problem is we don’t have a way to navigate it. But if we did, if we could somehow control the chaos; to enter the quantum realm at a certain point in time and exit at another point in time…like,” Scott locks eyes with you then. “Like before Thanos.”

You nod.

“Are you talking about a time machine?” Steve sighs, running a hand over his tense forehead.

“No. No of course not. Not like a time machine but like a…yeah.” There’s no other word for it. “Like a time machine. I know it’s crazy. But I can’t stop thinking about it! There gotta be some way.”

“Scott,” Natasha calls his attention. “I get emails from a raccoon. So nothing sounds crazy to me anymore.”

“So who do we talk to about this?” His eyes flicker between the three of you.

“Don’t look at me.” You hold both hands up. “That’s way above my pay grade.”

Part 4

Series Taglist: @3and30aresoultwins

#yelena belova x reader #marvel fanfiction #yelena belova #black widow #black widow fanfiction #yelena belova fanfiction #yelena belova x y/n #yelena belova x you #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x you #yelena belova imagine

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sundaysundaes · 3 years

Text

Drunk Antics

Mark Lee X Reader, ft. Johnny | Smut, Fluff | 5.8k | College AU

Summary: After being caught having sex with your previously virgin boyfriend, you thought Mark and your brother Johnny would never get along. That is until your boy comes back to your room in the drunkest state he’s ever been after a short trip to the bar with his Johnny-hyung, asking you to try new tricks he’s learned from the Master of Sex.

Sort of a continuation from Our First Time but can be read separately.

Warnings: Smut, oral sex, drunk unprotected sex. For the sake of the very little plot there is, Mark is intoxicated in this fic so his consent may be unclear. Please don’t read this fic if this makes you feel uncomfortable. I also don’t approve nor allow taking advantage of your romantic partner while they are under the influence of alcohol.

“You forgot that you borrowed his AirPods?!” Your boyfriend is shrieking in whispers, doe eyes shaking in fear and horror as he kneels on your bed, trying to shamelessly hog every inch of your blanket to cover his body.

Mark is so drowning in panic that he doesn’t even notice that you, in fact, are still naked. “I was going to use them before to work on my assignment,” you try to reason, “but then you came so I kind of forgot about them.”

“Kind of?!” He screeches. “I agreed to have sex with you because I thought you were sure that he had his AirPods on!”

You stare at him flatly. “You’re making me feel like I just took advantage of you.”

“I am feeling like you just took advantage of me!”

“You just lost your virginity, I think you have to thank me instead.”

“Babe,” Mark grabs both of your shoulders, staring with wide eyes as if there’s a ghost lurking behind your back but he’s trying his best to calm you down (though he’s pretty much shitting his own pants). “You should’ve remembered that you took his AirPods. He heard us.”

“Mark,” you imitate his tone mockingly, taking a hold of his shoulders in the same manner. “It would’ve been super weird if I thought about my brother when I have my hot boyfriend rubbing his dick against my ass.”

Distracted, a sheepish smile forms on his face. “You think I’m hot?” But he shakes himself awake on the next second, going back to yanking out his hair with both hands. “No, wait—what am I going to do—your brother heard us having sex—I can’t—”

“I heard my brother having sex all the time.” You shrug nonchalantly. “Sometimes even when he’s alone in his room, which is gross.”

“THAT’S NOT THE POINT—”

“Guys?” Johnny’s knocks on the door are becoming more impatient. “I swear to God, if you two go back to sucking each other off, I’m going to throw Mark under the bus and run him over myself.“

Mark’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. “Did you hear that?!”

You roll your eyes in response, reaching out to the table beside your bed and snatch Johnny’s AirPods from inside the drawer. “Here,” you hand it over to Mark.

Your boyfriend reacts as if you just handed him a bowl of hot lava and he fumbles with his hands, shoving the AirPods back to you with so much horror in his eyes. “Why are you giving me this—no—no—”

“Mark, honey.” You gently smile, pushing the thing back in the most motherly way you can manage. “I’m covered in cum—your cum, in case you forgot—and you’re hogging all the blanket—“

“No—”

“Also, I’m sweaty and gross. Can you please be a man for once and let me take my shower? You can still join me afterward.”

“Babe!” You can tell he’s about to throw up out of fear but he’s just so cute, you can’t help but keep teasing him about it. “This is not fair—he’s going to kill me! And what do you mean ‘for once’, am I—“

“Okay, guys, any day now.” Your brother, Johnny, calls again from the other side of the door. “If one of you don’t come out and hand me back my AirPods in the next ten seconds, I am literally going to call the police.”

Mark nearly jumps out of his own skin. “What?!”

“Oh, shut up, Johnny,” you shout back, mouthing calming words to your boyfriend who looks like he’s seconds away from fainting. “You’re not going to do that and we both know it!”

“But I am going to call our Mom.”

“That he might do,” you say, wincing a little at Mark. “Okay, I’m going to take a shower.” You lean forward to give him a peck on his cheek. “Good luck, babe.” And you sprint off to the bathroom inside your room, all while holding out your best not to cackle loudly.

“Where are you going—Baby, get back here!” You can hear Mark protesting in whispers, but you just send him flying kisses and a wink, and shut the bathroom door behind you.

Mark’s soul is leaving his body, he can feel it. And that’s okay, because Johnny is going to kill him anyway. But when the older man really starts to count to ten, Mark jumps out of the bed, tripping approximately three times as he tries his best to dress himself back in his own clothes while muttering the words “shit” and “fuck” repetitively under his breath.

When he’s sure he looks less fucked than before, Mark opens the door, breathing hard as if he just did the worst workout in his life.

“H-hey,” Mark starts, attempting to throw his best look-at-me-I’m-a-good-boy-who-did-not-just-fuck-your-sister-when-you-were-around smile at the other man. “How’s it going, man?” His voice breaks in the middle of his line and he winces as he tries to calculate the least painful death options he can commit.

Johnny unenthusiastically gazes back at him. “What are you doing?”

“I’m… smiling at you?”

“Don’t. You look like a serial killer.”

“S-sorry, I’m—“ Mark’s eyes start searching everywhere but Johnny’s eyes as he feels his own feet turning into jelly. “I guess I’m nervous.”

“Nervous? Why?” Johnny places his hands inside the pocket of his jeans, looking way too intimidating for your boyfriend to handle. “Because you just had sex with my sister while I’m in the house?”

Mark’s jaw is almost dislocating from his face from how wide he opens his mouth. “I—I, umm—“ He clears his throat, wiping a bead of sweat off his forehead. “S-so, you really heard us, huh?” He tries to laugh it off, which he soon regrets from the way Johnny’s eyes are throwing daggers at him.

“Yeah, well,” Johnny shrugs, “My ears don’t have on-and-off buttons that I can switch whenever I want. I used to have my AirPods to do that job, but she borrowed them to help her concentrate while doing her assignment.” He gives out a sly grin, almost mockingly. “Little did I know that her assignment was you.”

If he didn’t feel like dying before, Mark is sure as hell feeling it now. “I’m so sorry—I swear, she told me you had them—I also thought you were downstairs—“

“Yeah, I do go upstairs from time to time, you know, ‘cause my room is over there,” he dully replies, nudging his head to the end of the corridor, where his room is located next to yours.

Mark’s entire body shudders in horror. “Dude, I didn’t know—I thought that was a storage room—oh God—”

“Don’t call me dude. I’m not your dude.”

“Fuck—sorry, you’re right—I’m—“ He’s hyperventilating by this point. “Is there any place in this house where I can kill myself?”

“You can try jumping off my balcony,” Johnny answers in the most casual way that Mark begins to question whether he’s really being serious about it.

“G-great, I’ll put that in my options,” is all Mark has to say. “Thanks.”

“Sure thing, bud.” Johnny yawns, offering one hand to the other man which Mark stupidly enough stares in confusion before he takes a hold of it and gives it a sweaty handshake. Johnny switches his gaze from Mark’s face to their hands before he brings back to stare at him straight in the eyes and says, “My AirPods, you idiot.”

“FUCK—“ Mark is so embarrassed that he stumbles on his feet, knocks the side of his head against the door frame, and does a silent scream when the pain jolts to his entire body.

“Man, I wish I had my phone ready to record all of that,” Johnny comments.

Mark is too much in pain to recognize his mumbling. He fumbles with the AirPods in his hand, shoving them to Johnny’s chest. “Shit, I don’t know why I thought you wanted a handshake—here—oh my God—I’m so sorry—“

Even Johnny seems a little bit amused at his antics by this point. “Thanks,” he says, tucking the AirPods inside the pocket of his jeans. “You have some time to spare?”

Mark gulps. “Are you going to kill me?”

“Not until the end of the day.” Johnny says, and Mark laughs a little bit too loud and a little bit too hard and by the way Johnny smiles, he still can’t tell whether he’s joking or not. “Come on, let’s go have a drink.”

“Umm I-I don’t think I should—“

“Not a request, Mark.”

“Yes sir, on my way!” And he knocks himself once again against the door frame as he rushes forward to follow his steps.

“Also, Mark?”

“Yes?”

“Your shirt’s inside out.”

***

“Mark?” Your voice is answered by the silence of your room. You’re feeling a little bit dizzy from the hot shower you just took. You took a bit long in the bathroom, waiting for Mark to come and join you with a cute pout on his lips and tears in his eyes (that’s how you imagined him to be anyway) but your boyfriend, it turns out, was not even in your room. You put on your clothes—a knitted navy blue sweater with sleeves a little bit too long for your arms and a simple pair of jeans—and head downstairs, searching your house but nobody comes to answer. Sighing, you go back to your room and try to call his cellphone but immediately feel disappointed when his ringtone comes from under the bed.

“Great, he forgot his cellphone,” you mutter to yourself, picking his phone up and throws it on the bed. “Did he really run home without telling me?” The image of Mark panicking and running away from your house like his life depends on it sure does look like it’s something he does out of shame. But judging by how great your previous sex activity was, you figure that he’s probably going to go back to you sooner or later. He also has his phone to retrieve anyway.

So it’s time for you to actually get some work done. There’s no other reason for you to run away from your goddamn thesis and the day is getting late. After having some ramyun for dinner, you finally begin working on your assignment.

It’s hard to start, but a few minutes after you get your head to it, you start losing track of time. You’re finally done with your work (most of it anyway), already closing your laptop and place it back on your backpack, when your door abruptly swings open, showing your boyfriend’s face with the biggest grin on his face.

“Baby, I’m home,” he says in a sing-song voice, a bit slurry and a little high pitched. Before you can say anything—too busy trying to figure out how high he is judging from the dopey look on his face—Mark is giggling and walks closer to you. “You know,” he says, placing a hand on your desk and leaning close enough for you to know that he reeks of alcohol. “I just had the greatest day of my life today. And it’s all because. of. you.” He pokes your nose repetitively between every word.

“Mark—“

“Are you hungry? I’m hungry. Do you want some pancakes, because man, I’d love some pancakes—“

“What, are you drunk?” The answer is obvious but you ask anyway.

“No, I’m Mark.” He grins, chuckling at his lousy joke.

“You are so drunk.”

“And you,” he snickers, pinching one of your cheeks, “are so cute~”

You swat his hand away. “Where have you been?”

“I went to a bar with your brother,” he giggles again, playfully massaging your shoulders. “He’s so coooool~”

“What?!”

“Yeah, he’s, like, so tall and, like, so fit.” You can’t believe you’re hearing your boyfriend fangirling over your brother. “And he knows a lot of stuff—like, a lot a lot.”

You certainly have to kick Johnny in the shins after this. “How—why—I thought you were—“

“Babe, you’re rambling.”

You can’t believe you’re turning into him, so you clear your throat and try again. “How drunk are you exactly?”

“Drunk enough to know that this,” he stops to pick up the fishbowl you placed on the bedside table—where Marky the Goldfish is sleeping with its eyes open—and lifts it up to his face, “water cannot be drunk but drunk enough to contemplate about doing it.”

You make a face. “Leave Marky alone.”

“Why did you name it after me?”

“Because it’s dumb. Like you.”

“Huh, can’t really argue with that.” He snorts, placing the fishbowl back to the table and tripping on his feet as he does so—spilling some water from the side but thank God, your fish is safe and alive, though probably also a little bit drunk because of that sudden… turbulence.

“Oops,” he giggles, “Sorry, Marky.” He doesn’t look regretful in the slightest. You stare at him in silence, unconsciously judging him with all you have and usually, he would start becoming nervous and fumbling with his words but now, he just looks at you like you’re the best thing that ever happened to him and rushes forward.

“Man, I love you.” He tackles you into a hug, almost sending you toppling down your chair, “I love you so much. Have I said that today?”

This is certainly not the way you imagined your first confession to be like, especially coming from Mark who’s usually shy and too childish to admit his feelings. “No, you haven’t,” you retort. “Ever.”

“What, really?” His eyes are perfectly round and wide, actually surprised about it. “Shit, I’m sorry. Come here.” He pulls you up to your feet, cradling you into his arms, hands flailing all over your body before they finally rest on your waist. “I can’t believe we had sex and I didn’t even tell you that. I’m so sorry.” He leans back, putting some space between you so he can stare directly into your eyes. “I love you. I’ve always been for a while. I’m so in love with you that I can barely concentrate whenever you’re around.”

You wish he wasn’t drunk out of his mind because those words, those lines, could have been so romantic but even though he looks romantic, you’re not sure whether he’s being one hundred percent conscious about it.

“Okay, let’s talk about this again when you’re sober.” You tap his cheek with one hand and pinch it when he whines. “Have you even taken a shower yet?”

“Yeah, this morning.” He smiles dreamily at you, kissing the inside of your palm. You can’t believe how bold and greasy he becomes when he’s drunk. “And yesterday. And the day before that. And—”

“Okaaaay.” You shut him up by placing your hand above his mouth, which he licks like a little puppy, earning a surprised yelp from you. “Mark!”

“Babe!” He imitates before throwing himself to the bed, laughing at your face. “Come here, join me in my bed.”

“That’s my bed.”

“Isn’t that what I said?”

You exhale loudly, rolling your eyes. “I don’t think you can go home at this state. Your mom would kill me.”

“But I’m already home,” he says, crawling toward you until he kneels at the edge of the bed, face to face with you. “Home is wherever the heart is, right? And my heart is with you.”

You curse yourself inwardly for having your heart flutter at his embarrassing line and you hate yourself even more when he notices you’re blushing.

“Whatever. Just take a shower and get some sleep.” You walk back to your desk, flipping around the pages of your textbook. “I still have two chapters to read.”

You can hear your boyfriend huffing behind you, but try your best to ignore him. It’s an impossible feat, it turns out, when Mark sneaks up behind you, circling his arms around your shoulders and peppers few kisses down the side of your neck.

“Mark—“

“You smell so good.” He inhales deeply, burying his nose in the strands of your hair. Standing up, you turn around to face him so you can protest and push him away but the look on his face makes you freeze.

“You’re so cute,” he says, running his hand up from the curve of your neck to cup your cheek. “And You’re so pretty. And hot. You’re so…” He begins staring at your lips, eyes unfocused. “Hot.”

You can tell it’s coming but when he kisses you, almost hungrily, it feels like he’s snatching your breath away. “Mark, wait—”

“Not waiting,” he murmurs against your lips, pulling your hand over his shoulder so you’re forced to lean your entire weight against his chest. Mark’s calloused hands travel down your body, wrapping both against the back of your thighs and lifts them up so you can wrap your legs around his waist. You follow his lead though still not entirely convinced that you should continue this.

Mark kicks your sliding chair away with one leg and places you down on your desk. He roughly pushes all your papers and textbooks to the end of the table, making enough space where you can sit facing him, with your legs tangling around his waist.

You have spent a decent amount of time kissing Mark over the months you’ve been dating, but only now that you have the chance to kiss him when he’s drunk and you’re aware just how much you’ve been missing.

The drunk version of Mark Lee unexpectedly kisses much more slowly compared to the sober version of Mark Lee, and if you thought fast, passionate kisses were hot, then these slow, deep kisses are sending actual shivers down your spine.

Mark has his right hand cupping your cheek, rubbing comforting circles on your skin with his thumb, while his other one is around your waist, slipping his fingers underneath the hem of your sweater. He angles your head to the side, and his parting lips fit like a perfect puzzle piece with yours. There’s a shy trace of his tongue along your bottom lip, as he nibbles at it slowly and he lets out this small moan as he does it as if it’s something he’s been wanting to do for years and just finally able to do it now.

He tastes like alcohol and you’re not particularly fond of it but the more he kisses you, the more you think it doesn’t matter because he still somewhat tastes like how Mark usually does and you always love the way he tastes on your tongue.

He drags your chin down with his thumb, tasting you a little bit deeper and as he presses his hips against yours, his breathing becomes ragged and you just realize that you probably have a kink for all of this stuff because holy mother of God, this is just so hot.

“Mark,” you sigh as he moves away to kiss your ear, warm lips pressing against your earlobe. He hums in a low, breathy voice that you’ve never heard him do and it makes your stomach flip. “Mark, you’re drunk.” It’s more like a reminder to yourself because you know that as the sober one, you have to put a stop to this but what can you do when he has his tongue tracing against your skin and his soft moans vibrating through your ears?

“Baby,” he whispers, pulling away a little so you can see his eyes and fuck, it’s the biggest mistake you’ve made today—bigger than forgetting that you borrowed Johnny’s AirPods. His eyes are half-lidded, utterly filled with lust and the way he licks his bottom lip as he stares at you has you breathless. He leans closer, as if he’s about to kiss you again, and whispers, “Don’t you want me?”

You remember that you said the same thing earlier to him that day and it makes you think how karma is a fucking bitch. You secretly wonder whether you have the same effect on him because Mark is being so irresistible right now and he successfully makes you throw all of your reasoning to the back of your head.

“Fuck this,” you claim under your breath, pulling him down to you by the neck and crush your mouth together. You can feel your boyfriend smiling into the kiss, and the sounds of your wet kisses make your heartbeat go crazy.

“Take off your shirt,” you command, already grabbing the end of his shirt and struggling as you try to pull it over his head. Mark helps, chuckling a little bit and when it’s off, he has his lips against your neck again. His teeth are prickling against your skin, sucking it until it’s bruised and you have to remind yourself to be angry about it later—because you have classes tomorrow and what if anyone sees that nasty hickey on your neck?—but right now, you just want him to mark you over and over again.

Mark starts to unbutton your jeans, pulling the zipper down and you use your free hand and legs to shake your pants off. It’s not easy, and you almost kick your boyfriend in the face while doing so, but he laughs it off and kisses you again. You can tell how hard he is when he presses himself against you, and you’re eager to put him out of his misery but he suddenly pulls away, saying, “Wait, let me do this first,” and he kneels on the floor, his face right between your legs.

You can feel your breath hitched when he runs his fingers on the inside part of your thighs, his lips follow soon after. He slips his fingers around the edge of your panties and pulls them down. You suddenly feel so exposed to the way he’s looking at you so you pull the end of your sweater down, trying to cover your thighs as much as you can.

“Why are you so shy?” Mark says, taking your hand away and pressing his lips against your palm. His eyes never leave yours and they twinkle in the most teasing way. “You weren’t shy about this before.”

“Stop looking at it too much,” you reply nervously, can’t help but to blush about it. “I feel weird.”

Mark chuckles, airily and soft. “Sorry, I just didn’t have the chance to really see you before,” he explains, one hand unconsciously rubbing your thigh, trying to calm you down. “Can I eat you out?”

Sober Mark will definitely not say anything like this—hell, sober Mark will probably faint just thinking about saying stuff like this—which is why you’re becoming even more nervous and excited at the same time.

“Baby?” Mark calls, smiling softly. “I kind of asked you a question.”

Fuck me. “Yes,” you breathe out, and you realize he was just messing with you before but who the fuck cares right now.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, Mark, please.” You can hear yourself whining and you hate yourself for it, but desperate times call for desperate measures. “Please eat me out, Mark.”

He smiles in the sexiest way that you don’t think it’s possible—like seriously, who is this guy?—biting his lower lip as he does so and if he keeps doing that, you figure he doesn’t even have to eat you out to make you come undone.

He presses his lips near your heat, whispering, “Good girl,” before he places his mouth on the exact spot you want him to be.

“Fuck,” you hiss, biting your own lip as you see his head move between your legs. Mark has his eyes closed, repeating what he has learned earlier that day and does the thing you like the most. When he locks his eyes with yours, you almost choke out a sob.

“Mark,” you try to keep your voice down in whispers but Mark is so good that it feels much easier to work on your goddamn stupid thesis rather than holding back your moan.

“Mmm.” The way he moans at the back of his throat as if he’s having the best time of his life makes you weak and you press your thighs together without knowing. Mark places his hands on each side of your thighs and spreads your legs wide apart, allowing himself to be even closer and making you feel way more exposed. You have to grip your desk with both hands to keep yourself from falling.

“Okay, no, stop—“ You find yourself breathing hard, pushing him back by the shoulder and he raises a questioning eyebrow.

“Was it not good?” He asks and you curse inwardly.

“Mark,” You grab him by the silver necklace he has around his neck, pulling him up so you’re face-to-face. “I’m about to come, what do you think?”

“Really?” He looks impressed with himself. “Then, why did you stop me?”

You tangle your legs around his waist, bringing him close and grind your hips against his. “You know why.”

Mark’s thin lips part in a silent moan, whispering, “Fuck,” under his breath but he tries to keep his composure. “No, I don’t,” he says, teasing you though he doesn’t look like he’s able to hold himself back long. “Babe, I literally just lost my virginity a few hours ago. You have to tell me what you want.”

“Mark.”

“Babe.”

You scowl at him and scowl harder when he has this shit-eating grin on his face, and if your eyes could throw daggers, he’d be in so much pain right now. But Mark is making a sound between a giggle and a snort, which is rather cute but you still kick him in the stomach for playing with you at a time like this. “Mark, come on! I want you to fuck me!”

He takes a hold of your thigh, leaning down to place kisses under your ear. “And where do you want me to fuck you, exactly?” He whispers, purposely making an mmm sound as he sucks on your earlobe. “Should we move to the bed?”

“No, fuck, just do it here.” You unbuckle his belt, pushing his jeans and boxer down to around his thighs, low enough for you to stroke his member and position it toward your entrance. “Mark, just put your cock inside me.”

It seems like he’s beginning to lose his mind over how desperate you are actually begging him. You guide him toward you, making sure he’s not doing anything wrong and when he pushes inside, you just have to bite on his shoulder to muffle your moan.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans, eyes closing shut as he grips on your thighs, nails sinking into the skin almost painfully. “I couldn’t remember whether you were you this tight before but—oh God—”

His movements are still a bit sloppy, but soon he finds the pace you both like and maintains it. When he sees you throwing your head back in pleasure, he grins to himself and lifts your sweater up to your chest. You help him take it off, unclasping your bra with so much effort as he continues pounding into you.

He’s so consumed by the sight of your breasts bouncing up and down matching his thrusts until he can’t take it anymore. “Babe, can I go a little bit rough?”

“Wha—fuck!” It’s your luck that you don’t slam your head against the wall from the sudden force Mark is thrusting into you. He has his mouth on your breast, moving his hips much quicker than before, and moaning your name several times under his breath. The desk is clearly making a sound as it bumps against the wall but you don’t care—your parents are out of town and Johnny already heard you two before anyway. You can just apologize to him tomorrow.

Mark suddenly changes position, lifting one of your legs up in the air while keeping the other down so he can slide in deeper. “Johnny-hyung told me to try this,” he says with a smirk on his face. He’s breathing quite hard, just like you. He kisses the side of your ankle once before he lays your leg on his shoulder. “Tell me if it’s too much.”

When he moves his hips again, with so much force that you have to hold on to the table, you’re pretty much just screaming his name. Mark’s bangs are sticking to his skin as beads of sweat start to form on his temple, and he pushes his hair back with one hand, chanting your name like a prayer and recording every expression you make in his mind.

You can handle his movements but you’re sure the skin around your waist is going to bruise tomorrow from how hard he’s holding you. You’re getting distracted by the way the muscles on his abs flex with every movement that it catches you off guard when he suddenly says, “I love you,” between his soft moans. You shudder at his words, leaning forward to wrap your fingers around his arm, begging for support. “Mark, you’re not fair—“ The rest of your sentence dies when he hits the spot that makes you see stars.

It’s a little bit embarrassing for you, the much more experienced one, to come undone before he does but Mark doesn’t stop, even if you beg him to. “Hold on to me,” he says, smashing his lips against yours and adding, “Just a little bit more, baby,” between kisses.

When he’s finished, your back and legs are aching so much that he has to carry you onto the bed. Mark shakes his pants off before he slides under the blanket next to you. He asks whether you want to shower and you shake your head. “Tomorrow. I can barely stand right now, to be honest,” you comment which earns a light chuckle from him.

You both sigh out loud, staring at the ceiling and trying the process what the fuck just happened.

“Mark?”

“Yeah, babe?”

“I know it’s bad for your health, but do you think you can get drunk more often?”

He giggles at that, turning to his side so he can face you. He looks so sleepy and you let him caress your face with his fingers with the little energy he has left. “Thank you for today,” he says, smiling dreamily. He leans closer to press your temples together, rubbing the tip of his nose to yours in a childish manner before he kisses you softly. He drifts off to sleep soon after.

When you wake up the next morning, still naked and gross from the night before, you realize that yes, small purplish bruises are forming on the skin of your thighs, waist and for sure, your neck. You look to your right, seeing your boyfriend still sleeping soundly with his stomach pressed against your bed and his lips slightly parted. You don’t have the heart to wake him up, but your parents can come home anytime soon and they cannot catch the two of you looking like this.

“Mark,” you softly call, placing a hand on his cheek and rubbing his skin with your thumb. “Mark, wake up.”

He groans, turning his face away from you. You tap his shoulder, run a hand through his dark locks and still nothing. Huffing, you gather the very little energy you have—without coffee in the morning, you’re pretty much nothing—to turn his body around and crawl on top of him.

“Wha—” Mark’s eyes are half-open but don’t stay so for long when he notices how you’re basically straddling his bare abs with your naked body. He panics so much that he begins to flail all over the place and end up falling from the bed and knocking you off his lap in the process.

You break into a train of laughter, pulling some blanket to cover your body. “Guess sober Mark is back.”

“Why are you naked?!” He shrieks, head peeping out from under the bed, and he shrieks louder when he notices that he’s also in his birthday suit. “Why am I naked?!”

“You seriously don’t remember?”

Mark takes a few seconds to himself, trying to process everything that his blurry memories can give and his jaw falls slack on his face when he realizes that, “We had sex!”

“Yeah, we did. Twice.” You giggle, nudging your head toward your desk which is literally in chaos—papers scattered everywhere, books falling to the floor, pens unaligned.

Mark follows your gaze and gapes harder. “Shit, yeah, on that desk—I remember—wait, but how?! Why—” He looks like he’s physically hurting trying to remember every detail, and probably that’s his hangover talking.

“Want some aspirin?”

He pouts rather cutely. “Yes, please.” When you step down from the bed, leaving your blanket behind, Mark blushes and immediately turns his face away, unconsciously letting out a girly yelp as he does so.

“Umm, babe?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re naked.”

You stifle down a laugh. “Yes, I noticed. And so are you.”

Mark covers his bottom half with a pillow, face flushed. “C-can you put some clothes on?”

You were planning to, but seeing him react like this makes you re-think your decision. “Mark, we literally had sex twice yesterday.”

“I know, don’t say it!” He hides his face behind his palm. “It’s still embarrassing for me.”

“You certainly weren’t embarrassed last night,” you tease, “You even asked whether you could eat me out—”

“GAH!” He has both hands covering his ears, turning his entire body around to hide his face but the way his ears are going red is contradicting his action.

“Mark, look at me.”

“No way in hell!”

Smirking to yourself, you slowly walk to his spot, not covering even an inch of yourself. When you call him again, softer this time, Mark makes a mistake and throws you a glance. He’s no longer able to take his gaze off you after that.

You spread your legs, sitting on the pillow he has on his lap and wrapping both legs around his waist. Pressing your chest to his, you lean close to his ear. “Wanna go for another round?”

Mark gulps.

***

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write-orflight · 3 years

Text

Settle Down: Chapter 11

**Gif Not Mine**

Prev - Next

Pairings: SpencerXReader (kinda enemies to lovers)

Rating: M

Words: 1.9K

Warnings: Child birth, language, tooth aching fluff

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

Summary: Y/N and Spencer don’t get along but turn to each other for the one thing you need someone else for… A baby. You can plantonically start a family, right?

AN: Two updates in a row! (Unedited) Now the taglist is officially closed now that we only have the Epilogue left. Thank you to everyone who took this journey with me, let me know what you think! much love, Cia

Chapter 11: A PowerPoint, really?

Morgan called outside the door for more nurses as soon as he heard what you said. Soon 3 women are rushing into the room, one of them clad with a wheelchair. You look at Morgan as they begin to load you in the chair.

“Derek, call Garcia and tell her to come with my emergency birth bag, then call Dr. Lizzie and tell her the baby is coming-AHHHHH!” You screamed as you were being wheeled out. Contractions, as they turn out, are the worst feeling ever.

Garcia is barging into your hospital room not long after that baby bag in tow. You kept an extra one at her place just in case you went into labor when the team was out on a case. “I drove just about 90 mph to get here. How are you feeling, mama bear?”

“Like Satan himself is putting me on a spit roast.” You grunt through clenched teeth.

“Think of the bright side you’re about to give birth to the cutest, most intelligent baby.” Garcia says. “Plus Dr. Liz told me I need to keep you calm so let’s do your breathing exercises.” Garcia starts huffing in syncopated time in order to get you to follow. You scream in her face. “Ok, so maybe not.”

“Who’s ready to have a baby?” Dr. Liz says, in a joyous tone as she sweeps into the room. “Let’s take a look at you.”

“Thank god! Lizzie, I need epidural. Shoot me up, Doc.” You groan from the pain.

“So someone is a little more eager to meet the world than we thought. It’s too late to safely administer epidural. You’re going to have to go natural, kid.”

You look at her wide eyed. “WHAT?!” You shake your head. “I-I can’t.”

“You can, Y/N.” Penelope says. “You can squeeze me as hard as you can.”

Tears start to fall from your eyes from the combination of pain and loneliness you felt. “I can’t do this, I need-I need Spencer.”

You hear the door opening. Spencer walked in pushing an IV still attached to his arm, other one draped around Derek’s shoulder as he helped him walk in. Once Spencer was next to you and leaned against the wall, Derek and Penelope stepped back to give you and Spencer privacy in your moment.

“Alright, you’re crowning. It’s time to push so next time you have a contraction, I need you to push as hard as you can.” Dr. Liz says, you nod. Spencer is pushing some of your sweat matted hair out of your forehead.

“What are you doing? You’re supposed to be in bed.”

“I told you I’d be here for you, for this.” He says, grabbing your hand letting you squeeze around his palm. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Spencer, I--AHHHHH!” You say, pushing. Your hand tightly squeezes around Spencer’s who despite how rough you must look right now is looking at you with the utmost awe and admiration. Dr. Liz gives you some words of encouragement as you breathe waiting for the next contraction.

“You don’t have to say it, I know, Y/N. I know.” He says, hand running through your hair.

“No, I need to say it. Spencer, I’m so in love with you. I love you so much, I’m sorry I kept hurting you but I need you. I love you--AHHHH!! I take it back, I hate you! I fucking hate you for doing this to me!”

Spencer kisses the hand you’re squeezing. “I love you too, Y/N/N. And I know you don’t mean that. It’s actually fairly common for all mammals giving birth to feel disdain towards their partne--”

“SHUT UP!” You yell as you push. “I usually love your facts but right now, shut the fuck up!”

“You’re doing great, mom. Just one more.” You hear Dr. Liz shout over your screams.

They don’t tell you this in any book, Doctor’s appointment, or mommy and me class but for a moment even though it is a fleeting moment. There is a stillness in the air where everything is silent and you are only snapped out of it at the sound of your baby’s first cry. Everything else from the cheers to Spencer cutting the cord is drowned by the sound of your baby loudly entering the word.

Your baby.

They place her on your bare chest and your arms instinctively wrap around your most precious being. You coo as the baby continues to cry the fluid out of her lungs. She’s covered in blood and goop but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Suddenly the thing you’ve wanted for so long was finally here and she was everything and more than what you thought, the perfect manifestation of you and Spencer’s love for each other.

Genevieve Rosalind Reid was born early November 10th. Given the name Genevieve after the song, Lady Genevieve, you and Spencer loved so much and Rosalind after famous female scientist Rosalind Franklin.

Not more than a couple of hours after the rest of the team is slinking into the room to get a peak at the baby, bearing gifts and congratulations to you both. Spencer managed to negotiate with the doctor to at least have a bed moved into your room so if they were going to make him lay and rest at least he could be near you and the baby. Soon, one by one the team starts leaving the last being Penelope who Derek had to haul away with him. You turn to Spencer once they’re gone.

“I love you, Spencer. I’m sorry I didn’t say it. I was scared.”

“I know, Y/N. I love you, why were you scared?”

“I didn’t want to lose you with my selfishness. Genevieve needs you more than I do, I didn’t want to sacrifice her having both parents because I couldn’t control myself.”

He reaches across the aisle between your beds for your hand which you stretch to him as well. “I’m not going anywhere.” He says looking you in your eyes. “I would never abandon either of you. I love you, but no matter what happens between us, we’ll make it work. For Genevieve.”

“For Genevieve.” You repeat back.

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

It’s been about 9 months since you had Genevieve and you and Spencer we’re still going strong. Though the first couple of months were difficult with Spencer being injured and having an actual newborn to care for. You were still better than before, Spencer made things better. Genevieve was perfect and looking more and more like Spencer with each passing day. In fact, it seemed the only trait she did take from you was a wild stubbornness and love for Disney movies.

You were out walking Genevieve in her stroller when you got a call.

“Hey Spence. What’s up?”

“Hey, where are you?” You hear over the line.

“I’m walking with Gen in the park.” You say.

“Do you want to meet at the coffee shop on the corner?”

You shrug even though he can’t see it. “Sure, get me a cold brew.”

You push the stroller into the coffee shop ten minutes later and walk over to the corner table you and Spencer have deemed yours. Your daughter is already fussy and making grabby hands for Spencer, who smiles and scoops her out the stoller.

“Hey, Bug.” He says, sweetly as your daughter smiles brightly at him.

“God, she’s such a traitor. Instantly forgets I exist as soon as she sees you.” You say, as he hands her back so you can put in the high chair for lunch. You’re opening her banana and pears baby food when you notice it. “Why do you have my laptop?” You ask.

“Well, open it.”

You give Spencer a weird look before handing him the food to feed Genevieve so you can open the laptop. Your heart stops for a second as you read what’s on the screen.

“A PowerPoint, really?” You chuckle. “Spencer, what is this?”

“This is Reasons Why You Should Marry Me.” He says, looking up to look you in the eyes.

“Yea, I got that from the title, Spence.” You chuckle, wetly. “And you thought a PowerPoint was the best way to ask?”

“Well, I felt you’d be more inclined to consider it if you knew I spent time on a presentation.”

“That’s true.” You say, chuckling at the memory of your first friendly encounter. You take the food back from him. “Well, show me what you got.”

“Okay, Reason #1, You love me.” You laugh, nodding as he goes to the next slide. “And I love you. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Spencer…” You said, swooning slightly.

“#2, I’d be a great husband.”

“That’s a debatable fact.” You say, chuckling.

“Have I given you any indication that I wouldn’t be?”

You smile and shake your head no.

“#3, I have a ring, a very pretty one that Garcia helped me pick out and it’s yours if you say yes.” Spencer says, that makes you laugh loudly because of course she did, no wonder she’d been acting weird at work for the past couple of weeks. “In all seriousness… Y/N, I love you and I feel like I’ve loved since you brought me to this coffee shop more than a year ago and asked me to make the best decision of my life. You are my best friend, the mother of my child… I can’t think of anyone else I’d want to share my life with. So..” Spencer takes that moment to stand to kneel down on one knee. “Will you marry me, Please.”

The tears that had been threatening to fall since he started were coming in full swing now. You nodded fast. “Yes! 1000% yes!” You exclaim. Spencer takes that moment to slide the ring on to your finger as you hear the faint applause from the bored baristas in the empty coffee shop who have gotten to know you both over the years. Spencer sweeps you into a deep kiss, that you can barely stop smiling for. You pull apart when you hear Genevieve start to babble in her highchair, reaching for the two of you.

“Oh, come here, Bug.” You say, going to pick her up, kissing the top of her head. “Can’t stand not being the center of attention, huh?”

“Well, she is her mother’s daughter.” Spencer chuckles when you level a bored expression at him. “Come on, let’s get out of here.” He says, starting to pack Genevieve’s stuff back into her stroller. “What movie are we watching tonight?” He asks.

You think for a second. “How’s Wall-E sound?”

Spencer smiles when he hears you say the first movie you watched together. That was the night he knew for sure that he was going to marry you someday. You didn’t know it yet, but Spencer did, and he was rarely wrong.

“Sounds wonderful, baby.” He smiles, as the three of you walk out of the coffee shop, a newly cemented family.

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westcoastrry · 3 years

Text

Can’t Help If This Is Us

Hello friends. I’ve worked super hard on this fic. I’m not a fast writer so this took my while and I’m super happy with the way it turned out! Special thank to my bestie @harryforvogue . I wouldn’t know how to spell or about even write if it wasn’t for her so thanks you ugly fart face.

Also I wrote this entirely for free so all I ask is for feedback. I would really appreciate it and would love to hear your thoughts!

literally mate please let me know your thoughts. PLEASE. I beg.

WARNING: there is smut in this and mentions of the mafia.

I hope you enjoy reading Kiara and Harry’s story as much an I enjoyed writing it. 11.5k words

A fic about Kiara, a normal girl who works at a coffee shop in the upper east side of New York, where she meets Harry. A man who is caught up in a job he doesn’t want but is working hard to craft a better life for himself.

Fuck me like you wanna make love

Call me when you wanna stay in touch

Lie together just to gain trust

Say what you wanna say, can't help if this is us

Moving to New York was a fresh start for Kiara.

It’s only been a couple of months, but she has grown accustomed to the city.

She has an apartment in a not-so-great part of town, but it is close to her University, and the view from her balcony isn’t too bad. She is a coffee connoisseur, so when her pregnant friend and neighbor, Trina, helped her get a job at a cafe on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, how could Kiara truly not make the best of her newfound city life?

“An Americano please?” a deep British voice asserts.

Kiara’s cleaning off the steamer about an hour into her morning shift when the man with long chocolate curls speaks to her. Kiara has been working here for a month, and some very high profile people have come to the shop, but Kiara has never seen this man, but he sure looks important. He is in a suit, all black, and the only accessories are the multitude of rings he has on his fingers. The rose one catches her eye first, then the big gold H.S letter rings. Those are his initials? What is the point of that? Is this man obsessed with himself?

“Americano?” he says more lightly, snapping Kiara out of her thoughts.

“Sorry, I- Americano,” Kiara stutters.

Kiara isn’t one to get easily flustered, but how can she not be when this six-foot sexy man was towering over her in a suit, asking for black coffee.

Only real men drink black coffee.

She works around the machine expertly until the man’s voice interrupts her. “You’re new here?”

“Yeah,” she responds, swiping a curl off her forehead. Managing her naturally curly type four hair in the bipolar New York weather has been a challenge. Most days, she wears her thick hair in a bun, or when she can afford to get it done, box braids. “Started working here a month ago.” Kiara hands him the coffee in a brown to-go cup.

“Hmmm. I’m here all the time. I’m sure I would have noticed a new pretty employee.”

“Guess I’m not all that pretty then,” Kiara fires back, handing him a receipt with a pen to sign.

Harry doesn’t really know what to say to that because he actually does find Kiara pretty. He likes that her face is an even brown color with a few beauty marks. He likes the color of her light brown hair, and he really likes the sound of her voice. It’s sort of angelic, even when she is snapping at him.

Harry smugly hands Kiara his hefty card (the first indicator that this man has money) and signs the receipt. He drops some cash on the bill.

“That’s your tip. By the way, I do think you’re pretty.” His eyes flick down to her name tag. “Kiara.”

Kiara rolls her eyes at the man. He probably walks around life getting everything handed to him because he’s rich, white, and hot.

Screw him and his stupid cute dimple, Kiara thinks to herself. She goes to grab the receipt he signed and see’s two fifty-dollar bills stacked on each other.

Her mouth forms into an “o” shape. A hundred dollars on a three-dollar coffee? What sense does that even make? This had to be a mistake.

“Hey Kiara, are you okay?” Trina, who’s waiting tables today, asks. She has her brown apron tied over her baby bump with a few crumpled receipts and pens tucked in the pockets.

“I just got tipped a hundred dollars,” Kiara says, still shocked.

“You go, girl!” Trina enthusiastically shouts. “Who was it? A regular?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve never seen him before. Brown curly hair, dressed in a nice black suit-”

“Oh, that’s Harry,” Trina smiles. “Everyone loves Harry. He is a cutie. Been getting coffee here for a long time. He owns the strip club down the street.”

“I’m sorry. The dude owns a what?”

“A strip club bar type thing,” Trina shrugs. “Very fancy. It’s pretty much only for the elite. He is super nice. Everyone loves him here! He bought me a crib and this fancy high-tech stroller when he found out I was pregnant.”

“Yeah, well, he is kinda a dick if you ask me,” Kiara mutters under her breath.

“He tipped you a hundred dollars, and you’re calling him a dick?” Trina curiously questions.

“He called me pretty! And he had this arrogant ambiance to his voice. And what is with all the rings? It’s tacky.”

Trina places her hands on her hips.“Oh, just say you find the man hot! It’s okay to admit you find Manhattan’s most eligible and rich bachelor hot. I don’t blame you. I would get on it if I wasn’t thirty and pregnant.”

“I’m not admitting anything. Besides, I don’t have time for men. Men just cause problems.”

“Oh, you're telling me?” Trina points to her bulging belly. Kiara snorts at her friend and starts to walk away to grab more coffee beans from the storage, and Trina follows closely behind her. “You need to have some fun! Loosen up. Get your head out of that textbook. You have been living next to me for three months, and I haven’t seen you invite not one boy over! I know that vibrator you use is tired.”

Kiara grabs the box of coffee beans and turns back around to face Trina. “My vibrator is doing me just fine.”

Kiara’s whole life has been centered around academics. She was a really smart kid growing up. She had a good start to life too. However, Kiara’s wholesome childhood took a turn at twelve when her Dad died in a car accident. The accident was horrific for her entire family, but it hit her mom the worst. Her mom went from being a well respected physician's assistant, to being a drug addict, and Kiara had to grow up at the tender age of twelve just to take care of her mother. Around the age of fourteen Kiara’s mom got shipped off to rehab, and she ended up weaving in and out of foster homes until she was eighteen. Kiara realized that she never wants that to happen to her future family. She has been working hard on her academics because she hopes to have a stable income, so she can give her future kid the life that she never had.

It’s not like Kiara didn’t want to go and mingle around. Meet a new guy, have a one-nightstand, maybe even possibly fall in love. However, the dating scene as a brown skin woman in a whitewashed part of the city isn’t as easy as it sounds. Kiara doesn’t teeter the line of looking ethnically ambiguous. She is clearly a Black girl. Caramel skin, tight curls, full lips, and wide hips. Kiara likes these traits that she carries. In fact, she loves them, but men don’t. Specifically, men that aren’t her race. Not to mention that Black men are hard to come by in this particular part of city.

The simple fact is most white men don’t like Black women.

It’s even arguable that Black men don't even like Black women.

And Kiara is okay with that. She doesn’t need to be approved by a bunch of white people, nonetheless ones with penises. She just wishes she had more options to date within her race, or at least find someone who genuinely liked her.

Maybe that’s the reason why Kiara doesn’t want to go out and find a man to have some fun with. She knows he’s going to be white, and she will have to endure hundreds of questions about her race and her hair or meet racist parents, and she has done that all before.

So, for now, instead of explaining this to Trina, her very white friend, she will just blow off her questions about why she isn’t sleeping around or why she doesn’t entertain the idea of going to bars to find cute boys.

+++

The next day Kiara is off work. She spends her day sitting in her bed, in red pajama shorts and her university sweater, studying for her midterm. She got through quite a bit but is still a little worried about not getting an A. About an hour into her studying, she hears bickering from Trina’s apartment.

“I don’t know what you are being so shy about. Just ask her! You are great with girls.”

“No, I’m great at fucking girls. Trying to establish a genuine connection, I haven’t done that in a while.”

“I believe in you! Now go!”

Knock

It’s another guy that Trina has been trying to set Kiara up with. Trina does this about every other month. Very rarely does Kiara entertain the idea and sleeps with them, because she is bored, but it usually doesn’t go further than that.

Kiara opens the door to her apartment and there stands Harry. He is holding a boutique of red roses in one hand, and his other is behind his back. The suit he is wearing today is slightly different. Same silhouette, but this time the suit is brown. Kiara finally gets a good look at this man, and fuck.

Green eyes, full bright pink lips. Wide shoulders and defined biceps that show he does work out but isn’t a gym rat.

Gucci loafers. Now, this is an interesting man.

“What are you doing here?”

Harry nervously gestures to the flowers in his hand. “I brought you this.”

“You just came here to bring me flowers?”

“I also brought you this,” Harry pulls his hand from behind his back and shows a bottle of wine he got when he went on a business trip in Napa. He was saving the wine for a special occasion, like the next time he would go visit his mom, but this is more than a special occasion in Harry’s eyes. He is trying to swoon this girl.

Kiara smiles at him and grabs the wine bottle. If it’s one thing Kiara has learned in her adult life is that she loves wine. She usually only gets the cheap stuff from the liquor store down the street, but Kiara has never seen this bottle before.

She walked to her kitchen, leaving Harry staring at her dumbfoundedly. She pulled out two wine glasses from her kitchen cabinet.

Normally Kiara wouldn’t entertain this. Especially since she has a test to study for. However, she can’t lie and say she hasn’t been worked up...sexually.

“Alright, you brought me wine. You are welcomed in.”

Harry follows her inside the apartment, feeling a bit awkward. Usually, Harry never found himself at a girl’s place. He always took his one-night stands back to his house and had his assistant, Trevor escort them out in the morning.

Harry was nervous because this wasn’t a one-night stand. This was him bringing wine and flowers to a girls’ apartment, which he barely knows.

Just like Kiara, Harry also hasn’t been in the dating scene in a while. He has been busy with work, and it’s not easy what he does.

“So why did you come all this way to bring me wine?” Kiara asks Harry, pouring some wine into a glass and handing it to him. “I know you don’t live in this part of the city.”

“I don’t.” Harry sits on the barstool by the kitchen countertop. “I told you I thought you were pretty. Nice place, by the way.”

Kiara looks for the sarcasm on Harry’s face when he compliments her one-bedroom apartment but doesn’t find any. Kiara’s apartment isn’t ugly. But it probably is nothing compared to what Harry lives in.

Kiara takes a gulp of her wine. “It’s kinda trash actually. This is the ghetto.”

“You go to Columbia?” Harry asked, noticing her university sweater.

Kiara takes one more gulp of her wine, finishing off what is left in her glass. She was going to answer Harry’s question. She really was. But she got a good look at his bone structure. The way his jaw is a perfectly angled line. The way his Adam apple moves when he takes a sip of his wine. Even the way his fingers glide against the glass.

She begins to wonder how his fingers would feel against her.

“Kiara?”

That was it for Kiara because she doesn’t think she can keep herself composed in front of this beautiful rich man.

Instead of pouring her wine, Kiara grabs the bottle and starts to chug the wine like she is a trucker drinking a Samuel Adams.

Her lips remove from the bottle with a pop sound. Harry is now staring at Kiara completely taken aback by her actions. “What are you really here for, Harry? Sex? Because we can cut the small talk part.”

“Maybe I actually like you, Kiara.”

“You don’t like me.”

“Who told you that,” Harry counters.

Harry watches closely as Kiara struts towards him.

“I thought you were into blonde models?”

“Where are you finding this information from?” he questions.

“Google.”

Harry smirks. “So you’re googling me?”

“You know, if you wanted to know more about me, you could have just asked.”

Kiara cut him off with her lips attached to his. She wanted him to shut up, but she also wanted to kiss him.

Killing two birds with one stone.

Harry’s lips move in sync with hers, and he places his ringed hands on her back, pulling her closer to him.

If Kiara is being honest with herself, Harry’s lips feel like magic. It’s been a while since Kiara has kissed a guy, and she feels butterflies in the pit of her stomach.

“Kiara, what are we doing?” Harry mumbles into her mouth.

“We are gonna go back to my bedroom, and you are going to fuck me. Hard.”

“A-are are you sure about that?” Harry stutters on his words.

“We both know you didn’t come here to take me out on some date. So let’s just do this.”

Harry should have confidently responded and said, “No, Kiara, that is not why I’m here. I’m here because I actually find you attractive, and I know you have been working at the shop for about two weeks now but I have been very nervous to ask you on a date.”

However, his mouth went dry because Kiara threw off her sweater and her perky boobs sat fully on her chest.

“Kiara-”

“You know,” Kiara rests the palm of her hands on his muscular chest. Kiara has the upper hand and she sees it in the way Harry was staring at her, gaping at her actions. She loves being this bold. Upper chest bare for a man who is practically drooling over her boobs. Kiara likes to be in charge, but only for a little bit. After a while she wants to be taken care of. In bed that is. “For a man of such little words, you are talking so much right now.”

Harry grabs both of her wrist, but keeps her hands placed upon his chest. He knows his heart is racing a mile per minute. Kiara feels it and for a second she thinks to herself that there is no way she is causing this man's heart to skip beats.

Kiara stands up on her tippy toes and lets her tongue dart out to touch right below Harry’s ear suckling on the spot until it turns a nice red shade. She detaches her lips with a pop.

“You want this,” Harry whispers.

“I need this,” Kiara responds back.

“Tell me what you need Kiara.”

Harry’s right hand brushes over her bare breast, causing her to buckle a bit and stumble onto Harry’s chest.

“Hold yourself up, love, and tell me what you need.”

“I need you to fuck me,” Kiara whines.

With that, Harry holds Kiara's hips and roughly turns her away from him. Her hands went out and to grab at the granite countertop, holding herself up as much as she possibly could.

“How do you want it, hmm?” Harry whispers, quickly shrugging off his blazer and undoing a few buttons from his shirt. He begins to place wet kisses along the back of her shoulder. “I can fuck you right here, bent over the counter top. Or I can take you to the bed.”

“Here,” Kiara choked out through a moan.

“Can you handle it?” Harry teasingly asked her.

“I can handle it.”

“Can I take off your shorts?” Harry asks in a more serious tone.

“Mhmm, yes please.”

Harry shimmies down Kiara’s shorts. He takes the time to run his hands over her ass. The contact of her hot skin and Harry’s ice cold rings feels good to Kiara. She wants him to spank her, but she isn’t exactly sure what Harry is into and now she wishes she was sober enough to vocalize what she likes in bed so her needs can be met.

“Let's get a good orgasam out of you. Can I eat you?”

“Yes. God Harry, you're teasing me.”

“Not teasing,” he reassures her. “Just wanna know what you like.”

Harry gets down on his knees and opts for pushing her gray panties to the side instead of taking them off. Her core is glistening in her arousal and the smell alone makes Harry’s dick twitch in his boxers.

“Stop staring at it and-” Kiara cuts her sentence off with a yelp because Harry has attached his plump lips to her clit, giving her small kitten licks.

Kiara doesn’t really prefer to be eaten out. Most men's mouths don’t really do it for her. However, Harry is doing a very good job at keeping her legs shaking. She wants to turn around and look at him, but everytime she tries he delves deeper and deeper in her core, until she can barely hold herself up.

“M’mmm. A little higher please?”

Harry smirks against Kiara’s core because the little please she added to the end of her request tells him that she is slowly letting go of the tough exterior she puts up.

“Here? Is this good?”

“Yeah. Fuck right there please.” Kiara grips at the counter harder until her fingertips turned white.

“Been eating your veggies, huh?” Harry talks against Kiara’s core, the vibrations making her shudder. “You taste good love.”

Kiara is unable to respond because Harry is really going at it. His hands tightly grip Kiara's hips. His face is completely buried in her cunt, and he feels a slight ache in his jaw from the motions he makes with his mouth.

He continues to lick over her swollen folds, and then wraps his lips around her clit, which makes Kiara arch her back and push onto him. She is a panting mess, mouth wide open, eyes pinched together. She begins to thrash around but Harry grips even tighter at her hips.

“Stay still love.”

“I can’t,” she whined. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Why don’t you ask to cum?”

Kiara chokes on her spit slightly when Harry pulls his mouth from her pussy, and dips a finger inside of her. “Am I not entitled to an orgasm?”

“You are if you wanna be good for me.”

“Well if you're looking for a good girl I think you have come to the wrong place-”

Harry adds a second finger to her, which shuts Kiara up. “Ask nicely and you can cum.”

“I didn’t know you were gonna be so-”

“So what?” Harry asks her.

“Dominant.”

“You're lucky I’m not spanking you.”

“What's holding you back?” Kiara challenged.

Harry gets up from off his knees, and his free hand reigns down a heavy smack on her ass.

“Ask me nicely,” Harry demands, slowly pumping his fingers in and out of her.

“No.”

Smack.

“Ask nicely Kiara. I can do this all night.”

Kiara snaps her head back to look at Harry. “No.”

Smack.

The three spanks that Harry had given to Kiara were much harder than the first. So hard that Harry started to see an outline of his hand print.

It's when Harry gives her one more smack and pushes his fingers deeper into her, hitting a sensitive spot that Kiara gives in.

“Fuck, Harry please just let me come,” Kiara struggles to say with a couple tears falling from her eyes from being so wrapped up in pleasure.

“Say sorry.”

“I’m sorry. So damn sorry. Please, I'm so close.”

Harry laughed at how her personality has done a complete one eighty. She went from being a complete brat to now begging him for an orgasm. “You are?”

“Yes please.”

Once Harry feels her pussy tighten around his fingers he pulls them from inside of her. “I don’t think you are that sorry.”

Kiara let out a whimper at the loss of connection. Her legs are still shaking and she almost slipped off the counter but Harry was quick to catch her.

Harry's strong arms snaked around to the front of Kiara’s stomach, letting her stumble back into her arms. She felt Harry’s hard cock press up against her raw ass.“Easy now.”

Usually, Kiara would give Harry some witty comments, but right now she is too worked up from being so close to her orgamsm. She feels a bit fuzzy, not sure what to do next. Her core aches and all she can think about is getting off.

Her hands go down to rub at her clit, but Harry quickly smacks it away.

“That's my job tonight alright? You gonna let me fuck you? You're gonna be good so I can get you off properly.”

Kiara nods her head.

“Verbal consent Kiara.”

“Yes please.”

“Good girl.”

Harry’s smug voice echoes in her ear as he places wet open mouth kisses along her neck. Harry is really enjoying himself. She felt him smile against his neck when he started to coax soft moans out of her.

Kiara weakly pushes Harry's head away from her neck.

“Doll, are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“No, I'm good. Can we just take this to my bedroom?” Kiara politely asks. “I think I will be more comfortable there.”

When Harry gets a good look at Kiara, he can tell he has pushed past the first layer of her tough exterior. He knows there is probably much more fight and sass in her, but right now she looks vulnerable.

“Yes of course we can,” Harry held his hand out and Kiara willingly took it as he led both of them to the bedroom.

When they arrive, Kiara sits at the edge of her queen sized bed, and Harry lets go of her hand. She whines a little at the feeling of Harry’s hands slipping away from her.

Harry chuckles at the girl. “Let me just take my shirt off darling.”

Kiara watches closely as Harry’s fingers undo the buttons one by one. His silk shirt gilded easily off his toned shoulders. He made his way to sit at the top of Kiara’s bed leaning against the headboard, and Kiara crawled on her hands and knees toward him.

“Christ,” Harry mumbled under his breath.

Harry spreads his legs wider, which allows Kiara to sit comfortably in his lap. She let her hands roam up and down his tattoos starting with the birds on his collar bone. She then notices the butterfly right above his tummy. When she places her left hand on it, tracing the wings, Harry sighs contently at her touch. It’s a comforting touch, one that he has never experienced with his one-night stands.

Harry breaks a sweat on his forehead when Kiara continues to trace his tattoos. His broad chest stops moving up and down because he begins to hold his breath. He isn’t really sure what she is doing, but it feels good. Good enough for Harry to exhale and relax into the bed.

For Harry, sex with girls usually got directly to the point. Of course, there was foreplay, but not to any extent like this.

Having someone else’s hands on your body is a part of sex. However, this feels much more intimate than that. He’s got that feeling of butterflies in his stomach when Kiara begins to run her hands all over his body. It felt like he was in high school again, having sex for the first time and being so nervous because you don’t know what to do. But in this case, the nerves and butterflies don’t come from a lack of knowledge of the female anatomy. It comes from being completely enamored by the beauty this one girl holds.

And for just a second, Harry questions if he deserves this to feel the way he feels right now. Warm and a little drunk on the feeling of love. He doesn’t love Kiara, at least not yet anyway. But he feels like at this moment, Kiara cares for him. And even if she doesn’t care for him, he wouldn’t mind existing in this false reality he has created in his head for a really long time.

Something about having his body touched in such a vulnerable way is making him feel things he has never felt in his life.

“You have a lot of tattoos,” Kiara points out, fingers still tracing his butterfly tattoo.

“Yeah, I have been collecting them over the years.”

“Which one was your first one?” Kiara asks curiously.

Harry brought Kiara’s delicate hands up to the swallows on his chest.

“These ones,” Harry’s voice shakily said. Kiara takes her index finger and begins to trace the birds.

“How old were you?” Kiara asks, keeping her eyes looking at the birds.

“Sixteen,” is all Harry says, trying to keep his past where it belongs. In the past.

“That’s young. You don’t regret any of them?”

“No, actually. I think they all tell a story. Sure, some of them are stupid, but they all got some meaning behind them.

Kiara innocently brings her hand up to his cheek, cradling his face. “You gotta tell me about them one day. You have so many.”

“Mhmm,” Harry hummed in response.

“Let’s kiss some more,” Kiara suggested, wiggling her hips in Harry’s lap to find a comfortable position.

Harry nodded his head in response letting his lips touch Kiara’s, but not yet giving in to her request. His hands find their way to her lower back, and Kiara’s hands now have made their way up to his shoulders.

“You look good. You know that?” Harry says against her lips.

Kiara now has a grin on her face and blushes at Harry as if she has never received a compliment in her life.

Kiara brushes a brown curl off of Harry’s face with her index finger, “You can’t give me compliments while I’m buzzed off of wine because you might make me fall in love with you.”

Harry smiles. “Why don’t I just fuck you like I love you?”

Harry realizes what he said and awkwardly takes his hands off of Kiara’s body, nervously running his hands through his hair.

Kiara see’s the worried look on Harry’s face, but she is just a tad bit too intoxicated to process the weight of Harry’s words.

“Or you could let me fuck you,” Kiara bodly suggests. “I just haven’t done it in a while, so you might need to take over when my legs get sore.”

Harry nods, his forehead pushed upon Kiara’s. He kisses her again, and is taken by surprise when she lightly bites on his lip. She then gives a quick kiss to the corner of the month, and then his throat. She leans over to kiss his collar bones, and Harry takes the opportunity to grab a handful of her ass.

He then slowly peels her underwear off of her. He drags it slowly past her thighs looking down at her soaking wet core.

“You’re wet,” Harry mummers into her ear.

Kiara cups Harry’s dick through his boxers, and slides them off of his hips.

Harry groans in pleasure when he feels her hand touch his hard dick that is leaking pre cum.

“Don’t get too cocky now,” her hand lazily pumps at Harry's length, which she finds to be quite impressive in size.

“Kiara, don’t forget who is in charge here,” Harry grits through his teeth.

Kiara dips her head down to lick at Harry's heavy balls, she then continues her way up to his shaft until she makes her way to his tip and suctions her lips around the pink swollen flesh.

Harry looks down at the Kiara, who is giving him those innocent eyes, as if she doesn’t have his entire dick in her mouth

“Oh fuck me,” Harrys rolls his eyes, and lets his head fall onto the headboard.

“I will. But let me suck you off first.”

Kiara passes her thumb over his dick, and kisses all around the tip. She licks him up and down before taking him into her mouth entirely, making sure to make eye contact with him.

Harry places his hand gently over Kiara’s head, asking permission to touch her. She blinks at him signaling to him that it's okay.

He took a rough grip to Kiara’s brown curls, moving her head up and down in a steady rhythm.

“That's it,” he encourages as Kiara suckles on his tip. “Fucking hell.”

She pulls her mouth from Harry's length and gives him a few sharp tugs.

“Slow down,” Harry pants. “Want to be inside of you when I come. Can you handle it?”

Kiara swings one leg around Harry’s lap, her core just inches away from Harry’s throbbing dick.

“Yeah I can.”

“Well what are you waiting for?”

Kiara slowly slides down on Harry’s dick, and his hands cling to the sides of hips, coaxing her on her way down. Harry groans at how tight and snug she feels around him.

Kiara is about halfway down when the blissful feeling starts to hit her. She tightens her grip on Harry’s shoulders biting her bottom lip.

“What's wrong? Thought you said you could handle it.”

Bravely, in one push Kiara glides right down Harry’s dick.

Harry groans with pleasure as soon as she makes it all the way down. His hands go out to grip her ass, and help her bounce up and down.

“That's it. Good girl. You like it when I call you that?”

“Yes,” Kiara responds, picking up her speed so that her tits move up and down with her.

“What do you want me to call you? I can call you my good girl, a slut, or whore. Which one do you prefer?”

“A whore,” Kiara is slightly embarrassed at what this man is doing to her, but she is so wrapped up in the lust of the moment that she really couldn’t care less.

“You're my dirty little whore, hmmm?”

Harry cranes his neck down to place a kiss on her tongue, lapping his tongue over her soft skin that smells like a floral scented perfume. He moans softly into her neck and squeezes at her fleshy hips.

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“I’m your dirty little whore,” Out of nowhere Harry thrust his hips up to meet hers. “Fuck, Harry!”

Harry placed a wet kiss behind her hair before speaking, “How about you get on your hands and knees for me. I can fuck you like that.”

“Okay,” Kiara withdraws herself from him with ease due to how wet she was. She props herself on her hands and knees and arches her back for Harry.

Harry places a hand on her lower back. He rubs the tip of his dick over her wet folds before pushing in.

Harry moves slowly at first, testing out the waters to make sure he isn’t hurting her. Her sweet moans are only egging Harry on, and he is sure he isn’t gonna last another five minutes inside of her.

“Please Harry. Fuck me faster please.”

Harry hands grips on Kiara's fleshy love handles. It is a little tight for her liking however the pain is quickly drowned out by the intense pleasure she begins to feel.

This is a dirty shag. Harry is pounding into her at such an extreme pace that Kiara can’t even get a full moan out. Her little “uhhhh’s” and “nggggs” only encourage Harry on.

Kiara’s orgasm hits her first and it's just as blissful as she thought it would be. Legs trembling, her arms are no longer propping herself up, instead her right cheek is pushed up on the bed, and a bit of salvia is foaming out of her mouth.

“I’m gonna, oh god Kiara. Just give me a sec- fuck!”

Harry’s orgasm shortly follows and it's just as euphoric for him as it was for Kiara. This was one of the most satisfying sexual encounters Harry has had in a while and he wants to enjoy every second of being buried in Kiara’s warmth.

Harry was about to pull out from her but when he looked down at where they were connecting he realized how fucked he was.

Not only did he not wear a condom, but he most definitely came inside of her.

“Fuck,” Harry mumbles under his breath.

How could he be so careless? This has never happened to him. Harry has had quite the extent of sexual partners and he makes sure to always use a condom.

He wants to blame it on the wine but he didn’t even finish his glass.

“I need a second,” Kiara tiredly whispers, panting.

“I didn’t use a condom.”

“I’m sorry?” Kiara says still coming down from her high.

Harry runs his hand through his tangled hair nervously, “I didn’t use a condom. I haven’t had sex in almost a year though. I get tested regularly too. I’m sorry it just slipped my mind. I can run out and get you some plan B.”

“It's okay,” Kiara responds. She turns her head around to look at Harry. “Do you mind pulling out now though?”

Harry looks down at his dick, and then looks up at Kiara. “Oh yeah shit uhh.” He grabs on to Kiara’s hips and slowly pulls out of her.

“I haven’t had sex in like six months by the way,” Kiara slowly turns herself around to face Harry who has now tucked himself back in his boxers. “It could be longer honestly… it's been pretty dry here until now.”

“Yeah, same. Busy with work and what not.”

There is a moment of uncomfortable silence. Kiara has the sheets up to her bare breast, and Harry is not only taking in the raw beauty of the girl in front of him, and still beyond shocked he forgot to put on a damn condom.

“Well, I can get you some plan B. I think there is like a Target down the block from your apartment.”

“No, it's fine!” Kiara responds way too quickly. “I mean like, Trina has a stash in her car. I can steal from her in the morning. You don't have to rush out if you don’t want to. It’s not safe to drive at night, and you probably have such a long way to go.”

“You want me to stay?”

“Is that a bad thing?”

Harry shakes his head. “No...errr it's not. I would really like to stay.”

“Okay well I’m gonna pee. And clean myself up. I can bring you some water?”

“Water would be great.”

Kiara nods at him, standing up so that her white sheet is wrapped tightly around her body. She knows that there is no reason to hide from Harry. He just took her from behind and called her a whore, but Harry isn’t just any man. He is a man who looks like a greek god, and fucks like one too. So Kiara couldn’t help but be a little self conscious.

Kiara quickly comes back with two glasses of water. She has even changed into an old ratty T-shirt and a fresh pair of underwear.

Kiara hands Harry a glass and he takes a sip, “You know,” she starts, crawling into bed next to him. “If you told me you fuck like that maybe I wouldn’t have put up a fight at the cafe.”

Harry blushes, setting the glass on the nightstand next to him. “Didn’t plan this, you know. Not that I mind. Trust me, I like this.”

“I would be lying if I didn’t say I thought you were cute.”

“Oh,” Harry playfulls wiggles his eyebrows, scooting himself closer to Kiara on the bed. “Please do tell me more.”

Kiara pouts at Harry until he places a kiss on her bottom lip, another sloppy wet one on her cheek. He grabs at her sides, tickling her.

“Har- Harry! Stop, please!” Kiara begins to laugh uncontrollably. She even attempts to pull Harry’s enormous hands from her body but has no luck.

“Okay, okay,” she gives up, Harry pulling his hands off of her. “It was the whole curly hair, suit thing. I love a man in a suit, and you know you got an Americano. You have good taste in coffee.”

Harry smiles. “You make good coffee.”

Kiara hums awkwardly, not making eye contact with Harry, instead opting to stare at his mermaid tattoo with abnormally large tits.

“I like your hair too,” Harry speaks up. “It frames your face nicely. It was the first thing I noticed about you.” Harry’s ringed hands make their way to the top of Kiara’s thigh, rubbing her soft skin. “Then it was all the pins you had on your apron. You have a lot.”

“Oh. Yeah I’ve been collecting them over the years.”

“You had one that said, ‘Don’t be a damn.’ What does that mean?”

“I’m not sure,” Kiara shrugs, breathing out a relaxed sigh. “It was like my third year of undergrad. I studied abroad at the University Of Edinburgh, in Scotland and this guy who had a jewelry shop said it to me. The next day I came back he just gave me the pin and told me to always keep it with me.”

Harry smiles at Kiara with adornment, “I have family in Scotland. I’m from London though. Grew up there with my mum most of my life.”

“What brought you to New York then?”

“School then work. I went to Columbia,” Harry says, giving her the shortest answer possible. “I noticed you had it on your sweater earlier…. You know before you tore it off.”

“Shut up!” Kiara groans, striking Harry’s chest. “But yes I do go to Colombia. Just for my teaching credentials. I want to teach history.”

There is a beast of silence. “Are you sure if I stay the night? I don't want to intrude-”

“I want you to stay the night.”

Harry’s heart warms because no girl has ever said that to him. The feeling of butterflies swarming around in his tummy has come back, and he knows his cheeks are heating up in embarrassment.

“Alright.” Harry pulls Kiara’s body closer to him which makes her squeal in surprise. “Only if you keep me warm for the night.

+++

Harry is awake before Kiara.

Harry is used to waking up early for his job, and usually, he would be on his way to get his morning coffee and then head on down to the club.

However, he just can't leave the girl he just fucked last night.

Her breaths are short, and he can feel her heart thumping against his chest. She was properly attached to him, and Harry really liked it. Having her this close to him.

He takes the time while Kiara was asleep to not only watch her sleep peacefully but look at all the artwork she has displayed on her walls. There are no family pictures that Harry can spot, just a picture of her and Trina on her desk. It looks like they are at some club. Trina has a drink in her hand that looks like she is about to spill and Kiara is downing a shot.

Kiara stirs a bit in her sleep and Harry watches as she slowly blinks her eyes open.

“You're warm.” She blinks. “Do you want breakfast?” Kiara offers, nuzzling herself in the crook of Harry’s neck. “I make a really good omelet.”

Harry laughs. “Kiara I really can’t keep up with you.”

Kiara begins to innocently pepper kisses all over Harry’s neck. “What do you mean?” she pouts.

Harry groans once Kiara sucks on a sensitive right beneath his jawline. “For starters, you didn’t like me at all when we first met. Then we fucked because you claimed I was here just for sex. And now you are offering to make me an omelet.”

“What are you here for then?” Kiara presses.

Harry sighs, looking down at the pretty girl all tangled up in his arms. Harry knows exactly what he wants. He is twenty-seven and he is really looking for love. A life-long partner who he can come home to after a hard day at work. A partner who makes getting up in the morning all worth it. Someone who he can take out on dates, maybe even take to meet his brother.

He wants to take a leap of faith with Kiara. He wants to ask her on a date, however, he can’t bring himself to do that. He doesn’t want to put this girl in harm’s way because he likes her.

And it's not even about Kiara getting hurt. He would never let anything physically happen to the people he cares about in his life. It’s honestly about the hurt she would experience if something happened to him.

“I-”

Harry is interrupted by Trina barging into the bedroom.

“We will be late for the train if you don't get your ass up! You always sleep in--” Trina pauses once she realizes her best friend is wrapped up in her other best friend’s arms. “Oh fuck.” Trina points back to the door. “I’ll wait outside for you.”

“Shit,” Kiara grumbles to herself. “I forgot I had work.”

Harry watches as Kiara frantically pulls her underwear up her body. When she realizes Harry is staring at her, she turns around to slide on her black lace bra.

Harry isn’t trying to be that much of a dick, staring at Kiara while she is getting changed. It's just that her ass is littered with marks from his heavy handy, and a light bruise on her loved handles from holding her securely on his lap, while he pounded into her.

The bruises were tainted with the memory of last night, and Harry notices how every little mark told the story of their rough and passionate sex. Looking back on it Harry doesn’t know if he was too rough with the young girl. He doesn’t like that it was possible that he may have hurt her.

“You need to go,” Kiara demands, pulling her jeans on, and then her white shirt.

Harry picked up his white button-up shirt off the floor and threw it over his shoulder. “Kiara, was I too rough? Maybe you should put something on the bruises--”

“I’m going to be late for work Harry,” she snaps.

“Are you mad?”

Tears well up in Kiara’s eyes and this is very unusual for her. She never cries. She is not even sure why she is crying. She pauses for a moment not answering his questions.

“I’m fine,” Kiara answers with her back still facing away from Harry.

“You’re crying, Kiara.”

“I’m not!” Kiara yelled, throwing her hands up in the air turning around. “I- I’m just a little overwhelmed.” Kiara’s breath gets caught in the back of her throat. “I have school, and I work full time, and I’m interning at this elementary school...and that…” Kiara points to the bed. “That was the best sex I have ever had, and now I look like a complete freak.” She wipes a tear with the back of her hand. “I look like a complete freak because all we did was have sex and now I’m crying. It doesn’t have much to do with you I think. I’m just a little stressed.”

That was a complete lie and Kiara knows it. At this moment, she could care less about school or the stress of work. Its that empty feeling you have after sex knowing that this isn’t a forever thing. Harry will go back to being Harry, and she will go back to being Kiara. It is simply just sex...nothing more.

Harry gets off the bed in just his unbuttoned shirt and boxers. He tests the waters by placing a comforting hand on her back. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Just show yourself out please.” Kiara walks away from Harry’s hold, grabbing a scrunchie off her desk, and her purse. “I have to go.”

Harry doesn’t stop her. He knows that if he stops her he is gonna want to kiss her. Then he is gonna convince her to come back to bed with him, and he can’t do that. For her sake.

+++

“Are we not gonna talk about it?” Trina asks while she is driving her SUV.

Trina and Kiara usually take the subway together. It works out much cheaper for the both of them, but they can’t be late for work. Not during the Monday rush. Kiara is in the passenger seat pulling up her hair and frantically covering up a few hickies on her neck from last night. Trina is driving just a little bit above the speed limit, trying to make sure they both get there on time, and also worrying about her best friend who isn’t her usual bubbly self.

“There is nothing to talk about, other than I need some plan B,” Kiara replies dryly.

“You're joking.”

“Nope. Pass me your purse.”

Trina keeps one hand on the wheel and hands Kiara her purple purse from the back seat.

“Kiara you had sex with my best friend. Unprotected sex.”

“Exactly just sex,” Kiara shruged, digging up the pill from the bottom of Trina’s bag. “And I’m your best friend!”

“You are both my best friends!” Trina argued. “You know the poor boy actually likes you right?”

Kiara rolls her eyes. “Did he tell you that?”

“Yes! Actually, he did! More than once!”

“He is lying. I’m just a normal broke student. And him? He is a fucking rich man but he looks like a literal greek god! Trina you know I googled him. His past girlfriends are models! White, skinny blonde models. I’m not white, skinny, or blonde!”

“He was a party boy in the past!” Trina retorts. “He likes you, okay? He just has trouble communicating his feelings. I know you like him too. You just have this strange idea in your head that you are not good enough for him! Which is ridiculous.”

“It's whatever,” Kiara huffs, pooping the pill in her mouth and swallowing it, “It was a hook-up. A simple one night stand.”

“It’s okay to want something more Kiara.”

“He doesn’t want something more! It's so painfully obvious,” Kiara throws her hands up in the air.

Trina knows how stubborn her best friend is. It's why they get along so well. They both have this hot headed temperament. However, Kiara never really likes to give herself time to relax. She likes to be busy but it is clearly taking a toll on her mental health.

“Let me take you out drinking after work.”

Kiara turned her head towards her friend and smiled. “Thank you. Now we are speaking my language.”

+++

While Kiara’s working, a part of her secretly wishes that Harry would show up for his americano. She is trying her hardest to convince herself that he is not worth her energy or time, but the sex is still fresh in her mind and it doesn’t help that her body is showing evidence of what took place last night.

There is still that dull satisfying ache between her legs, the sound of Harry calling her a dirty whore plays on rewind all day. She is practically daydreaming about having sex with Harry again while making coffee.

Harry was the first man to meet her needs in that manner. Sure she has cum during sex a couple times, but it wasn’t anything mindblowing. In fact her orgasms were usually underwhelming, but with Harry he knew what he was doing. His dominance was a complete turn on.

And sure Kiara could be fuck buddies with Harry. But she thinks she deserves a little more than just casual hookups. She wants a relationship because at the end of the day, she wants to build a family. A family that makes up for her broken one.

Kiara has sat down and contemplated this before. Is it inherently selfish to want to fix her childhood trauma with a family of her own, but fuck. Can you really blame her?

+++

When Kiara gets home she quickly changes into a simple black dress. It hugs her curves nicely and it's the dress she usually pulls out when she used to go clubbing with Trina (which has come to a halt because of her pregnancy).

The subway ride to the club is filled with laughter and Trina having to help Kiara actually get on and off the train (because she pregamed at the apartment).

Once they got to the club, Trina walks up to the front of the line with Kiara.

The bouncer's eyes lit up as soon as he saw Trina, “Hi Trina. Umm, should I tell Harry you are here? James is also here too. I can let him know as well.”

“Harry is here?” Kiara questions.

Trina whispers in her ear, “Yes, this is his club.”

“I’m gonna need more drinks if I have to look at his stupid face again.”

Trina playfully rolls her eyes, “Yes, you can let James and Harry know we are both here.”

The bouncer pulls out his walkie talkie and opens the door for Trina and Kiara.

Kiara supports herself on Trina’s arm as they walk into the club, “You didn’t tell me we were going to Harry’s club?”

“I know, I thought you might put up a fight about it.”

She probably would have put up a fight about it, however she wouldn’t actually mind seeing Harry's stupid, beautiful looking face again.

The club itself is beautiful. The ceilings are covered with mirrors, and hanging down from them were stunning crystal chandeliers. The chairs are red, and glass tables are placed strategically in each booth. There is also a bar with some red stools, and a huge red door near it.

“What’s back there?” Kiara asks.

“The strip club. But we don't need to go over there. C’mon you wanted some wine, didn’t you?”

Trina and Kiara made their way to the bar and a heavily tattooed girl with a name tag that says Drew is working on the opposite side of the counter mixing drinks.

“Hey, Trina! What are you doing here? You can’t drink.”

“It’s for my friend, Kiara.” Trina gestures to her Kiara, who drunkenly waves back at Drew “She will take some wine, something sweet. I’ll just have some sprite”

Drew grabs a wine glass and puts it on the table before walking away. “Coming right up”

“James is that new guy you are seeing, right?”

“Yes. He works for Harry.”

Kiara has heard Trina mention James on multiple occasions. She even thinks he has come to the cafe a couple of times for lunch, but Kiara can’t put a name to the face. She is unsure if Trina and James are dating, but she is not sure how far she should pry. She does briefly remember Trina telling her that James does not care about Trina being pregnant. In fact Trina told her one day during their thirty minute break at work that James is just happy to be a part of Trina’s family.

“Mhmm. So Harry owns this club?” Kiara asks, taking a sip from her wine that Drew provided for her.

“Yeah. He owns a few more too. I believe it's a family business or something?”

Kiara sighs before downing the rest of her wine. “Just eat the fucking rich already.”

“Kiara? Trina?”

Kiara spins around on her chair, holding up her second glass of wine that Drew had given her and made eye contact with Harry.

He looks breathtaking. Hair neatly combed out of his face, tailored suit, ring decorated fingers that Kiara thought was repulsive, but now she can't stop thinking about how they feel against her heat.

“Trina, it's Wednesday,” Harry sternly told her, pressing two fingers to the bridge of his nose, slowly breathing in and out, trying not to lose his temper at his best friend.

“Are you not happy to see me?” Kiara says, standing up. She almost trips on her heels but Harry grabs her arm.

Kiara places her hand on Harry’s cheek. “I know you have to be happy to see me. You don’t fuck someone like that unless you hate them or love them. And who could hate me?”

“Okay!” Trina chippers up, grabbing her friend and bringing her back to the barstool. “Maybe we should get some water in you, okay?”

Harry is flustered because way too much is happening at once. Harry has told Trina multiple times that Wednesdays are not a good time to show up at the club. He has his meetings on Wednesday, and dangerous people are always floating in and out of the club talking business with Harry. He just wants to keep Trina and Kiara safe.

“Drew put all their drinks on my tab,” he tells the dark-haired bartender. “Trina, did you drive here?”

“No, we took the subway,” Trina answered.

Harry sighed frustratingly. “Okay. I'll take you two home. Just don’t leave here until I come get you.”

“Harry,” Trina starts. “I'm sure we will be fine. It’s not that big of a deal. James is here anyways--”

“Trina please.”

It's the crack in Harry's voice that caused Kiara to stop drinking her wine and look up at him.

Trina shoots Harry a look of sympathy. “Okay fine. We will stay here until you're done.”

Harry exhales the air he was holding in, a nervous habit he is still trying to break. “Okay. I will be done soon.”

“What's got his panties in a twist?” Kiara snorts as Harry walks away.

“I’m not sure actually,” Trina responds. “He is always stressed at work. I’ve been trying to get him to take a break for ages, but pulling that man away from his job is an impossible task.”

“He always seems so tense.”

Trina laughs, “Yeah maybe you can help him with that.”

“Well I see you have been helping his fellow associate...James.” Kiara wiggles her eyebrows at Trina.

Trina dramatically sighs. “Don’t even get me started on him.”

“What? I thought things were going great!”

“They are!” Trina assures Kiara. “But I’m still not sure what he wants. I’m pregnant and thirty. I really don’t want to fool around anymore. I want to settle down. The baby is coming soon and I won't have time for hookups and flings. He says he doesn’t mind that I’m pregnant, but he hasn’t said he wants a relationship with me.”

“Why don’t you just be upfront with him and ask?”

“Because I don’t want to scare him off!”

“You deserve someone who is upfront with their feelings, Trina. You are never gonna know until you ask.”

Trina sticks her index finger in Kiara’s face. “I’m not doing shit until you figure out what's going on with you and Harry.”

“Fine I’ll admit. The dick is good.”

Trina squealed. “I knew it, you filthy whore!”

“I'm just a little nervous. What if he is just hooking up with me for some weird black girl fetish? What if he is a racist?”

“I can tell you that's not Harry.”

“Am I ready for this?”

Trina takes a sip of her sprite. “I dunno. You know the answer to that question, not me.”

“Well I don’t know, and you don’t know. So that's my cue to keep drinking.”

Trina rolls her eyes and is about to tell Drew that this will be Kiara’s last glass of red wine until she makes eye contact with a man walking towards them.

“Fuck,” Trina grabs her purse then grabbed Kiara’s wrist. “Don’t talk to him okay? Just don’t look at him and maybe he will go away--”

“Trina... Haven’t seen you in a while.” The man's voice is heavy and dark. When Kiara looked up at him the first thing she noticed is that he is extremely well dressed, with a bling out watch on his wrist. “Who is the lovely lady you brought with you?”

“Leave her alone Dorian.” Trina says.

“What's your name?” The man reaches out to touch Kiara’s lower back but she flinches away.

“Don't touch me! Who do you think you are?”

He raises an eyebrow at her. “Feisty. Pretty too. You are one of Harry’s girls?”

“Excuse me? One of whose girls?”

“Are you not a dancer for the club?” the man asks in a condescending town that sets Kiara off.

“Oh hell no. You know damn well I’m clearly not stripping so what is it that you want from me?”

Trina leans into Kiara’s ear. “Kiara please leave it alone,” She grabs her wrist but Kiara quickly pulls it out of her grasp. “Let's just go.”

“No, let the girl talk Trina. She has quite a mouth on her anyway. Maybe she can put it to a much better use.”

Slap

Kiara’s hand connects with Dorian’s face before Trina could stop her. Trina knows her friend has a temper but so does Dorian. The slap slightly echoes over the music and gains a few people's attention including Drew, who stops mixing her drink and keeps her eyes on Dorian, who clenches his jaw and fixes his suit on his shoulders, trying to regain his composure.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he mutters quietly.

“And what the fuck are you gonna… Ow!” Dorian roughly grabs Kiara wrist and drags her towards him.

He holds her hand above her head. “You don’t know who you are messing with. Do I need to show you?”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Kiara begins to squirm. “Let go of me before I kick you in the crotch--”

“Hmmmm. Maybe I should teach you a lesson. Don’t think Harry would mind if I borrowed one of his girls.”

“Refer to me as one of Harry’s girls one more time and I will do more than just slap you.”

“Dorian. Let her go.” Kiara’s eyes float from the man holding her wrist to Harry who is stalking up to her with a man right next to him. His voice was deep and assertive. Something Kiara never thought Harry to be other than when he was in bed.

Dorian lets Kiara’s wrist go and she stumbles back a bit towards Trina.

“Harry!” Dorian loudly greets. “I was just telling one of your whores she needs to watch that mouth of hers.”

“She is not a dancer, Dorian.”

“Oh, is she not? Such a shame,” Dorians eyes shamelessly rake Kiara up and down. “With a body like that I’m sure she could attract some clients for you.”

Kiara launches at Dornian but Harry is quick to grab her this time pulling her into his chest.

“Behave. Please,” he whispers in her ear.

“Dorian, you need to go.”

“Harry, you know better than that. Came here for my money. Come here every Wednesday to get my payment.”

“Well, you're not getting it today. Come by tomorrow.”

“Funny you say that since you know the history between me and your father--”

“I don't give a fuck about the history between you and my father!” Harry seethes stepping closer to Dorian. “You don’t see him here do you? I made you a deal. You will get your money, just not tonight. You don’t get to threaten my friends and then just demand money.”

“You don’t want to test me boy--”

“No, you don't want to test me. Not tonight. Leave.”

Dorian smirks at Harry before raising his hands up in defeat. “I’ll be here tomorrow. If you don’t have my money there will be problems.”

Harry watches Dorian walk fully out the door before turning to Trina and Kiara. “Both of you. My car now.”

“What just happened?” Kiara questions.

“Trina just take her to the car.”

+++

The car ride back to Kiara’s apartment is silent. Kiara sits in the back confused as to why Trina and Harry kept whispering to each other. A whole conversation is happening and Kiara’s trying to keep up, but she can only get bits and pieces of what the two are saying.

“I might be still drunk but I can hear you know.” That is a lie.

Harry’s eyes glance up to the rear view mirror. “Are you okay Kiara? He didn’t hurt you right?”

“No but I did hurt him. Slapped him. And if you didn’t come and interrupt I was about to kick him in the balls.” Kiara hiccups at the end of her sentence.

“She is right,” Trina agrees. “She is more of a fighter than she leads on to be.”

“Exactly!” Kiara yells. “So if you would have given me the chance I would have fucked him up.”

Harry, who was clenching his hand at the wheel during the whole drive, lets go and smiles. “I believe you Kiara.”

+++

Harry makes sure to walk Trina into her apartment safely, before helping Kiara to hers which was a challenge in itself because she can’t even walk in a straight line.

“Woah,” Harry says, wrapping his strong arms around Kiara’s waist trying to keep her balance. “How about you sit down on the bed?”

Harry helps Kiara walk into her bedroom and he slowly sits her down on her bed. Her hair is completely ruined, her dress slightly bunched up at her hips and her lips gloss slightly smudged. Harry thinks she looks beautiful. He is staring a little too long before he realizes he should help her take off her heels.

He gets down on one knee and his fingers begin to work on the claps of Kiara’s heels until she wraps her leg around Harry’s neck and pulls him closer to her thigh.

“Wine makes me horny.”

“I know,” Harry pushes himself away from her, no matter how tempting she looks, and goes back to undoing her heels. “But I think it would be smart if I get you to bed.”

“Why was that guy asking you for money?”

“Asking me anything but that.”

“Okay. Did you mean it?”

Harry slides one heel off her foot and looks up at her. “Mean what?”

“When we met.” He grabs Kiara’s other foot. “You said I was pretty. You meant it?”

Harry is silent for a couple seconds, his voice low. “Of course. Why would I be lying about that?”

Kiara shrugs as Harry glides her shoe off. “Guys are assholes. Well most guys are.”

“Mhmm. Where can I find some clothes for you?”

“Top drawer.” Kiara points at her dresser right in front of her bed. Harry walks over to get some clothes and places them on the side of her bed. “When I moved here I hooked up with this one guy from my class. I thought there was something going on between us ya know? He was nice at first. So I was gonna ask him if he wanted to go on a date because well, at that point we were hooking up. Turns out he had a girlfriend.”

“Sounds like a dick. Can I unzip your dress?”

Kiara nods her head and stands up hastily, turning around so her back is facing Harry. “I feel like I’m never good enough to be the girlfriend.” Harry listens closely as he zips Kiara’s dress slowly. Her delicate skin has goosebumps on it. When he gets all the way down to the top of her butt he pushes the dress off her shoulders, and allows her to step out of it.

“I’m good enough to hook up with. But never good enough to meet the parents or keep around longer than a couple weeks.” She turns around to face Harry, and grabs the shirt he picked out for her, throwing it over her head, and ignoring the pair of sweats he brought her, opting to stay in her underwear.

“So do you find me pretty in a fuckable way? Or do you find me pretty enough to keep me around longer than a few weeks?”

“Do you want me to answer that? Because you are really drunk, and my goal isn’t to scare you off.”

“Yes please,” she hiccups. “If you want to fuck around lets just be up front about it. Think I’ve gotten my hopes up about too many guys and I just wanna know.”

“Well I always think it's time for me to settle down,” Harry explains to her. “I’m twenty seven and my mum will not stop bugging me about it.” He laughs but Kiara stays silent. “I guess dating is just a bit confusing for me.”

“Confusing?” Kiara questions, tugging at the bottom of her shirt to make sure it is covering her butt.

“I really didn’t expect to be around this long. I’ve done a lot of stupid stuff Kiara, stuff that I really shouldn’t have done because it put my life at jeopardy. I think I never settled down because I didn’t think I was able to.”

“And what about now? Do you think you can settle down.”

Harry inhales and exhales quickly. “I’m not sure.”

“Okay.” Kiara turns her back to Harry and walks to her bed. She is definitely disappointed in his answer, but she knew she shouldn’t have gotten her hopes up.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to keep seeing you Kiara,” Harry quickly responds, breathlessly. “I want to take you to dinner.”

“You don’t have to pity me Harry-”

“I’m not pitying you,” Harry cuts her off. “I like you Kiara. You're a nice girl, beautiful too, and I mean that. My life can be… menacing to say the least. I like you enough not to drag you into my bullshit.”

Kiara tiredly rubs her eyes with the back of her hands. “What exactly is the bullshit?”

“It's my family business and my family… Well, they are interesting people.” That is all Harry could tell her without explicitly saying, “Instead of going into finance with my business degree from Columbia, I had to join my dad’s mafia and fix all his mistakes while he lives in a mansion, even though all I have ever wanted was to have absolutely nothing to do with the “‘family business.’”

“You seem like you don’t want to talk about it.” Kiara is now sitting with her knees up to her chest on her bed and Harry is towering over her small frame.

“No. I’m not a big fan of my past. But I want to get to know you, and you can get to know me. I’m busy with work, and sometimes it's hard for me to open up, but I’d really appreciate it if we took this slow.”

Kiara pouts. “So that means I can’t convince you to stay the night? Even if I suck you off?”

Harry smiles at her. “No.” He places a kiss on her forehead. “But I will come get you tomorrow at seven for dinner. Does that work?”

“Yes it does. Thanks for bringing me home tonight.”

“Anytime. I mean that.”

Kiara flips over to her side, hands resting underneath her head. “Drive safe.”

Harry is unsure about his life. In fact he is unsure about leaping into this with Kiara. He knows they aren’t dating, and that's good for him. He needs time to figure out his life. He knows if he wants to be in Kiara’s life, he has to pay off his fathers debt’s and get out of the mafia, or else he will never truly have the life he wants.

Right now, he can see a future with Kiara. He can see himself waking up next to her, making breakfast. He can see himself enjoying a domestic life with her.

He knows he can’t have that right now. But he sure is gonna work like hell for it. For her.

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latte-fairytaekwoon · 4 years

Text

Ateez: Breaking The Bed During Sex (Rated)

Contains NSFW content. Read at your own discretion.

Kim Hongjoong:

Ok, maybe you and Hongjoong were going at it a little too rough one day when you had the dorms to yourselves. Honestly it was quite funny to you both, once the shock died down. However you didn't want him to get in trouble, so you both lied about what happened, claiming ignorance. Hongjoong really wanted to say what happened, it was seriously such an ego booster, but he always held back....

Until one day when the other members were teasing him once again, calling him short and weak.

"I'm not weak." Hongjoong said confidently.

"You're the weakest one out of all of us!" Mingi pointed out.

Hongjoong was so done at this point that he ended up blurting out:

"I'm actually so strong that I broke the bed when I was fucking Y/N into the sheets!"

Everyone had a shocked face, some even covering their ears at such a revelation.

"If you don't believe me, ask her! But can any of you brag about something like that?!" Hongjoong continued.

The rest of the member's faces turned red.

"Wait! So you lied about not knowing what happened?" Seonghwa suddenly realized.

"Bitch! You even told our manager that you suspected it was me and Yunho!" San cried out, offended that he was a victim of the whole incident.

Ok, so maybe Hongjoong was definitely going to get scolded, but he does not regret anything.

Park Seonghwa:

As usual, Seonghwa was completely in his Dom persona, holding your legs open as he slammed his cock deep inside you. Only your pants and heavy breathing could be heard.

"F-fuck Seonghwa!" You cried out as you felt your orgasm coming.

"Cum for me baby, I want you to let it all out." He ordered you.

Order that you never got to fulfill since the front legs of the bed snapped out of place, sending you both falling to the front, your head hitting the wall. Dom Seonghwa was switched instantly to Mom Seonghwa.

"Oh my God! Are you all right?!" He exclaimed as he quickly got off you and examined the damage done.

"I'm fine, really." Although it did hurt, you didn't want him to go overboard with this.

"Are you sure? Do you want an ice pack? Do you want to go to the hospital? I'll put some clothes on and take you there right now."

He quickly got up and started pulling out something to wear for him and you. You honestly were just giggling at the situation right now. You both literally just broke the bed cause you were having sex and suddenly Seonghwa is freaking out.

"I think we have bigger problems than my head. How are you going to explain this to the others?" You asked him.

Seonghwa stopped when he realized you were right.

"Shit!" He cursed when he thought about what would happen when the others found out.

They were never going to let him live it down, that was for sure.

Jeong Yunho:

Yunho definitely got carried away and it backfired most inconveniently and at the worst possible moment.

You were currently on top of him, rolling your hips against his as you tried to chase your orgasm. Yunho could definitely tell you were about to explode anytime soon and that's just what he was waiting for, waiting for you to reach your high because he wanted to try something.

With a loud moan, you came all over him, your movements stopping as you were too sensitive to the touch. Yunho knew this, but that didn't stop him from suddenly gripping your hips in place and suddenly thrusting up into you at an animalistic speed.

"Y-Yunho- please! Don't! I-I can't!" You whimpered out from the overstimulation.

"Yes you can, and you will. I know you can take it." He groaned as his hand snaked up your neck.

You never got to find out if you could since suddenly the bed collapsed underneath you both, halting both of your actions.

"Did the bed just...?" Yunho couldn't even finish his sentence.

You nodded. "Yeah.....it really did."

You both sat there for a good minute or two, wondering what to do. That's when you playfully smacked his shoulder.

"This is why you shouldn't try things without telling me first!"

Kang Yeosang:

Yeosang tried to act as normal as possible, knowing it was only a matter of time before-

"Ahhhhhh! My bed is broken!!" Wooyoung screeched out, his arms flailing around the air as he ran to where the other members were.

"Say what?" Seonghwa asked.

"What did you do?" Hongjoong could already feel a headache coming.

"I didn't do anything! Seriously!" Wooyoung exclaimed.

"Then why is your bed broken? What happened?" Hongjoong asked.

"I don't know! That's what I want to know! All I did was come back today from my trip with my family, I sit my butt on my bed and suddenly the headboard falls off!" Wooyoung explained.

Yeosang tried to avoid eye contact with Wooyoung, knowing full well that the reason why the headboard was busted was because he fucked you on his best friend's bed since it was illogical for you two to use his bed given he had the top bunk.

"Yeosang, do you have any idea what might have happened?" Seonghwa asked him.

Putting on his best poker face, he simply shrugged.

"No idea."

Choi San:

You had already cum for the 6th time, but you still had 2 more to go since San wasn't quite finished with punishing you for trying to make him jealous earlier.

"San! Please!" You begged as his pace didn't slow down one bit, even after your 7th orgasm washed over you.

You were met with a slap to your ass, adding to the overstimulation.

"Shut up you little slut! If you're going to act like a whore, you'll get fucked like one." He growled as he kept ramming his cock inside you, rearranging your guts.

Your fingers clutched the sheets, face hidden in the pillow next to you as you tried not to scream so much, but even then your neighbors could prove hear you. They definitely heard though when your bed cracked and collapsed right underneath you. You looked up as San pulled himself off you, inspecting the damage.

"Well it's definitely broken." San said.

You face palmed. "No way? Really?"

You got up to clean yourself but San grabbed your wrist.

"Where are you going? Your punishment isn't over, and I'm adding more for using your sarcastic voice with me." San was already pushing you down on the floor.

"Really Choi San?! You broke my bed and you're still thinking of getting your dick wet?" He was unbelievable.

"I'll buy you a new bed later. One where we can fuck all day and it won't break."

Song Mingi:

Mingi had asked you if he could try being the Dom for once and you agreed, it could be a nice change for once and you did not regret it. He made you lay down and pleasured you for hours before he even lined himself up and started thrusting inside you.

"Oh my God!" You gasped when he put one of your legs around his shoulder, hitting at an angle that would send you cumming in seconds.

"Right there baby?" He smirked when he realized he hit your sweet spot and he began increasing his speed.

You came soon after, your walls clenching tight around him, making him get close to his own orgasm. He pulled out of you to cum all over your stomach and thighs, but as soon as his weight shifted on the bed, a cracking sound was heard and one of the legs broke.

"What just happened?" You asked him.

"Uh..... I think we broke the bed..." Mingi responded.

You both got up to make sure you weren't imagining things. Mingi started freaking out.

"Oh my God! I broke the bed! Hongjoong is going to kill me!" He began exclaiming, already imagining the older member grabbing him by the ear and taking him to his room.

"Sweetie calm down." You tried comforting him.

"I can't calm down! I broke the bed! And-" He paused as he thought about it for a second.

"Oh my god...."

"What?" You asked him.

His face suddenly donned the brightest smile ever.

"I broke the bed and it was cause I was fucking you so hard! How awesome is that?!"

Jung Wooyoung:

It was definitely risky for Wooyoung and you to get naughty while the other members were in the living room watching a movie, but Wooyoung didn't care. Besides, they were watching horror films so the loud noise and their screams would drown out any noises you two made. It's not like they didn't know what you two did anyways.

You two were going like rabbits, enjoying your time together since you hadn't seen each other in a long time. Your moment was ruined by a loud crashing sound that resonated throughout the dorm.

"Jung Wooyoung!?" Seonghwa shouted from the living room.

"What did you do?!" Yeosang called out, worried about any damage done to the room that was also his.

"Shit! They heard!" Wooyoung sighed as he looked at the broken ladder on the bunk bed.

"You have 5 seconds to come out." Hongjoong warned.

Wooyoung told you to stay in the room, while he threw on a pair of sweatpants and went to the living room. He then proceeded to explain what happened.

"You broke my bed?!" Yeosang screeched out.

"Relax! It was only the ladder! Geez! But guys! I broke the bed cause I'm a sex god!" He was honestly so proud of himself.

"I sleep on the top bunk! How am I supposed to get up there now?!" Yeosang asked.

Wooyoung snorted. "I'm sure Yunho or Mingi wouldn't mind giving you a lift."

"That's it! I will murder you! Let me at him! Let me go!" Yeosang thrashed around as Yunho and Mingi held him back from committing murder.

Choi Jongho:

"Why are we here again?" Mingi whined for the 20th time.

"To buy a new bed for Jongho." San answered.

As if it wasn't clear enough given they were looking at the furniture section of a store.

"Seriously Jongho. How did you even break it?" Yunho asked the younger member.

Jongho's mind flashed back at the memory at what happened:

"Jongho!" You called out underneath him.

"Yes love?"

"Pp-please faster! I need m-more." You begged him.

He smirked at your request.

"Are you sure baby? I won't be able to control myself. I might break you."

"Break me Jongho!" You gave him the ok.

Well he definitely didn't break you, but the bed did break. However the others could never find that out.

"I told you! I got angry and took it out on the bed! You know I can't control my strength!" He exclaimed. Technically it wasn't a full lie either.

"Ok ok! Geez calm down! No need to get so defensive about it!" Wooyoung shouted.

"Let's just get his bed and be done with it. I have leftover chicken in the fridge and it's missing me." Yeosang said, annoyed at having being dragged there in the first place.

Jongho smiled to himself when all of them had their backs turned. He actually got away with it and they'll never find out.

Gifs not mine. Credit goes to their respective owners.

#ateez #ateez reactions #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #ateez san #ateez mingi #ateez wooyoung #ateez jongho #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez smut

1K notes · View notes

goldentsum · 4 years

Text

━ jealousy

REQUESTS: (seperately) bokuto, hinata, and akaashi x jealous s/o. say that she isn’t a very jealous person to begin with but there’s another girl who seemed to have taken a liking to the boys and she doesn’t like it. add some angst if you will :) hopefully ends with some fluff.

🎕 asked by: nonnie 🎕

CHARACTERS: bokuto koutarou, hinata shouyou, and akaashi keiji

GENRE: angst, fluff

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i don’t know if i did it right but D: i’m rlly active rn cus im excited idk why-- also hinata has a lot of dialogue in this one

━ bokuto ♡

bokuto is a jealous baby owl and you know it,, know it too well... he gets pouty if your attention is elsewhere even for a minute!

you, on the other hand, is as cool as a cucumber. well, that what it looks like anyway.

you get jealous quite a lot, to be honest, but your pride won’t live if you show it so you just try to shrug it off every time

but when kou gets a little too much attention it pisses you the fuck off

you get snappy and your mood is down for the day but kou is always on his way to make it better~

the baby owl may be oblivious but when the topic is about you, he pays attention to your every movement and to what makes you tick

so when someone!! a person you hate because of their flirty attitude and rude remarks gets a little too close to your baby--

oh, it's about to go down!

you’re in the cafeteria sitting on one of the free tables, waiting for your hyperactive baby owl, when you see a certain someone clinging to Bokuto and pressing their chest against his arm

aND WHAT PISSES YOU OFF MORE IS THE OBLIVIOUS SMILE ON BOKUTO’S FACE

you turned around and looked at the juice box you bought for bokuto and grabbed it roughly, stabbing the straw to drink it yourself

you knew how popular bokuto was and how ‘plain’ you were but it still hurt when people never respecting bo’s personal space and your relationship as you two were publicly open with your relationship

akaashi, who was lagging behind bokuto, saw this and quickly rescued the dense captain making a certain someone whines about it but akaashi paid no mind and dragged bo away and towards your table

“hey, babe!”

you looked at him and rolled your eyes, scoffing a little with the straw still on your mouth as you proceed to ignore him

bokuto’s eyes widen at that and sat closer to you, leaning closer and putting his head on your shoulder, nuzzling at you.

this usually makes you break but nope, your pride said nope and you ate lunch with bo pouting and whining to you. akaashi who watched the whole scene sighed.

the next time you saw bokuto was at dismissal with him racing to your classroom the moment the bell rang. he went inside when your teacher dismissed you and waited on the side for you even though you were ignoring him. but what slightly shocked you was the serious face he has on.

when everyone else was gone and you were about to go to, bokuto grabbed your hand and made you stay

“what’s wrong? please talk to me...” He whispered, hugging you close to his body.

you pouted at that, the gesture cracking your cold demeanor quickly. you sighed and hugged back the sweet boy.

“i’m sorry for ignoring you, kou...”

you felt his smile on your skin making you smile too

“It’s okay but please explain...”

his innocent words and eyes made you shy. maybe you overreacted a little bit but your ego is too big sometimes

you averted your eyes and looked at your shoes, bokuto’s arms still around you.

“cus... you let (h/n) touch you and you were smiling too!”

you whined a bit, looking up at him. his surprised expression then turned into relief and he started laughing

“who knew you were the jealous type too, (Y/n)!”

you pouted and hid your face on his chest,

“shut up... i’m human too, ya know... and you’re not one to talk, you’re the one who always gets jealous..”

“That’s cus my girlfriend is too pretty and too many guys have their eyes on you!”

you scoffed playfully at that, not having the energy to remind bokuto that those guys were just asking for some notes or something to you, knowing well that it would brew into bokuto pulling up his ‘facts’ and arguments on you again that those guys were unto something...

“shut up, you owl”

“your owl~”

━ hinata ♡

this small bean is also one of the easily jealous type and he creates a safe and danger distance around you in his mind

there’s only a certain distance a guy can come close to you and if that line gets crossed, he goes pROTECTIVE MODE

tanaka and noya are proud of their pupil as they watch him circle around you like a rabid dog or crow?

he is always with you! ALWAYS! And he always buys you some cold drink or if you don’t bring lunch, he lets you share his bento with the courtesy of his mother as he asks her to make a bigger lunch for him when he knew that you don’t really bring your own lunch.

so when it was lunchtime and hinata was nowhere in sight, that worries you a LOT

you run to the courtyard where you two usually hangs out with kageyama but was surprised to only see Kageyama and his milk box

jogging up to the tall male and you asked him about shoyou and you heard an answer you were not expecting to hear

“some fancy pink letter asked him to go to the rooftop, it said that they wanted to say something to that tangerine”

(y/n).exe has stopped working

kageyama looked at you with a quirked brow, still sipping on the milk box, he poked you with a curious look

“why did you let him go, you idiot!” you said, surprising kageyama who pouted and glared at you

“why the hell are you yelling? he’s just meeting someone!”

“you dense blueberry!” you shouted and hit kageyama on the shoulder with a light scowl

kageyama was about to retort when a familiar childish growling caught his attention as you both looked at the side and saw a glaring hinata racing towards you two at a fast rate

“why you kageyama--! don’t get too close to my girlfriends!”

hinata slotted himself between you two and started bickering with the tol blueberry

you sighed at the scene in front of you and a light pink object caught your attention. there it was, a pink chocolate bar in hinata’s hand as he waved it around, trying to punch kageyama.

you frowned at it and started walking away, leaving kageyama and hinata at the courtyard. hiding from hinata, you ate lunch in the bathroom stall as icky feelings start to grow.

after lunch, you quickly run to your classroom wanting to avoid seeing hinata at the moment

but luck wasn’t at your side when Hinata dragged you off and got inside the janitor’s closet with you.

“hinata, what are you doing! lunch is already finished, i’m gonna be late for class!”

you tried to leave the small room but hinata closed the door when you tried to open it

“no! you left me with kageyama all lunch break!”

“i-i had a stomach ache and went to the nurse’s office--”

“i went there too, you weren’t in there”

an awkward silence filled the small room while you looked at hinata with surprise

“i-it doesn’t matter--”

“It does matter! If you feel the need to lie to me then it’s a big matter!” hinata said, frowning at you

you sighed and let hinata hold your hand

“please tell me what’s wrong”

“i heard you got confessed to”

hinata blew a fuse at that and started waving his hands furiously, “h-how’d you know?! i didn’t accept it, i promise--!”

“you didn’t?”

hinata stopped for a moment and looked at you, eyebrows furrowing

“yeah, i got myself the best girlfriend... why would i wanna change that?”

you went closer to Hinata, letting your body hit his and hugged him

“i-i’m sorry... it’s just that, i thought you would find someone better and leave me...”

“I WOULD NEVER! You’re the best girlfriend in the whole wide world, (Y/n)!”

“You’re the best boyfriend too, little tangerine”

━━ akaashi ♡

let’s be real here, you’re definitely the jealous one in the relationship. I mean having a boyfriend who’s too pretty to comprehend and easily attracts a lot of attention can make you like that. but you hide it pretty well, well most of the time anyway...

akaashi always ALWAYS pays attention to you and knows everything that can trigger you to become sad, angry, jealous, and happy

he always makes sure that you’re always fine and happy, that you’re comfortable and content

we stan the perfect boyfie 🥺

bUT he can be quite dense sometimes when it’s not about you or volleyball.. fUKURODANI PPL ARE DENSE

girls would always flock his classroom before you can get there, snacks and treats in their hands to give it to akaashi and being the petty little gremlin that you are, you were pouty

akaashi sighed because it’s always either you were pouty or bokuto is and sometimes the worst-case scenario happened where both of you are pouty at the sAME TIME!

akaashi= Mom Daddy

you reached our final form of pouty when you saw a certain someone a bitch dragged akaashi to talk to him or whatever and being the curious thing you are, you followed them and hid behind the vending machine, listening to their convo

“you know, your girlfriend is cheating on you, right?”

wHY THAT BITCH! She just lied like it’s her common language wtf!

you prayed that your baby boo won’t believe her cus YOU ARE NOT CHEATING ON HIM! why tf would you cheat on him when you hit the jackpot? tf

“and you must know that spreading rumors and lies about a person can take you off the first string in the track team right?”

oOF--! YOUR BOYFIE REALLY POPPED OFF HUH

you snickered behind your hands, listening to the lying snake stutter a complain but akaashi cut her off

“if this is all then I’m going now but if i hear any rumor circling around (y/n), i won’t hesitate to take action myself.”

the snake scoffed at that and walked away, stomping

there was silence for a moment but then keiji called out, surprising you

“i know you’re here, (y/n)”

you stiffened at that and moved away from your hiding spot while coming up with excuses

“i-i wasn’t doing anything! she just dragged you off so i followed--!”

akaashi smiled softly at you, walking closer and patted your head gently making you feel flustered.

“i know, let’s go? you must be hungry”

“you won’t leave me for her, right, keiji?”

akaashi shook his head at your question, a small smile on his face and looked at you, letting his hand fall and held your smaller hand in his

“it’s not like you’ll let me leave”

“HEY! you make it seem like i’m holding you as a hostage or something!”

“hmm”

2K notes · View notes

thefactsofthematter · 3 years

Note

hi bestie <3 you said send in some requests, so i'm suggesting:

javid with, "it's not okay! you're not fine!"?

i hope you have a good day !!!

hi bestie <333 i had so much fun with this, i haven't done a short little fic in ages!! here's a 2.7k javid fic - a college au and a classic (emotional) hurt/comfort type deal, heavy on the comfort ;)

"Wanna come for dinner at my parents' house tonight?"

Davey is laying on Jack's couch after his last class of the day, since Jack's apartment is just off campus, and it's a ridiculously convenient place to go nap after a long day of school. He honestly spends more time here than at his own apartment that he shares with his sister, a short train ride away.

"I'd love to," Jack replies, his gaze still glued to his computer screen, "but I totally forgot I have an art history paper due at midnight, analyzing a painting, and I haven't started. It needs to be ten pages, and I don't even have an outline. I'm gonna sit here and write until my eyeballs fall out."

Davey laughs softly.

"That sucks. Do you at least have some research done?"

Jack turns to him with completely dead eyes.

"Not a single academic source."

Davey glances at the clock. Jack has seven hours to pull this off, which is doable, but... intense. It would've been a lot easier to spread it out over a few afternoons, and it'll be a painful squeeze to get ten comprehensible pages of writing done tonight. Jack can write decently fast, but his spelling and grammar are atrocious, so he'll have to factor in editing time too. Davey is not envious of these circumstances in the slightest.

"Shit. Good luck. That sounds awful, but I'm rooting for you. What's your prof's late assignment policy?"

Jack, entirely beaten down, leans forward to rest his forehead on his keyboard.

"He won't accept them past the due date without a good reason... which I don't have. I'm just an idiot and forgot to put it in my planner— thank god Romeo texted me today to ask if I was done."

Davey pushes himself up and walks over to where Jack is sitting at his little dining table, under the constantly-flickering fluorescent bulb. He wraps his arms around Jack's shoulders and kisses the back of his neck.

"You got this. I'll come back here after dinner and bring you leftovers, okay? My mom's gonna be sad you couldn't make it, so she'll totally pack up a plate for you."

"You don't have to come all the way here," Jack sighs. "Your place is closer to your parents, and this is out of your way— you have work in the morning anyways, so you should go home and go to bed. I'll be fine, I'll probably write faster alone anyways."

Davey kisses him again, this time leaning around to plant one on his cheek.

"If you're sure." Jack's plan is probably the smart move, since Davey's shifts at his stupid coffee shop job start ridiculously early, and coming here would mean staying up with Jack until he finishes, probably distracting him. "In that case, I'll see you tomorrow after work, and I'll bring the food then... keep me posted about the paper, text me when you finish. And make sure you eat something."

Jack turns back to look at him with a strained, stressed attempt at a smile.

"For sure. Go have a nice time with your family, and tell everyone I say hi."

"Aba, you're doing it wrong. You have to use your left arm."

It's getting late in the evening, dinner has been eaten, and Les is trying to coordinate the family to make a TikTok with him. It's not exactly going well.

"My left or your left?"

"It doesn't matter, we have the same left!"

Davey has thankfully been placed in the back row, both because he's tall and lanky, and because he's so uncoordinated that Mom used to make you wear one of those leash backpacks as a kid to keep you from wandering into traffic... which is true, but Davey isn't sure why Les even knows about that. He certainly wasn't around yet when that was the case, so he probably heard it from Sarah.

While Les tries once again to explain how this little dance is supposed to work, Davey's phone starts to buzz in his pocket. It's probably a spam call, but he's not particularly invested in the dance lesson so he pulls it out to check.

Incoming call: cowboy babyy 💖🤠

Davey frowns. Jack never calls him. It's always texts or voice memos, since he's got some kind of weird aversion to talking on the phone. If he's calling, it must be important.

"Hi babe," he says, pressing his phone to his ear and walking off to his old bedroom to get some quiet, while Les shouts at him in the background for not taking this seriously. "How's the homework going?"

Jack is quiet for a second too long as Davey toes the door shut.

"...Not great. I'm really frustrated." He pauses and sniffles a little, sounding almost like he's holding back tears. "I don't know why I called you while you're having a good time with your family, though. I shouldn't be bugging you."

"Hey," Davey breathes, "you're not bugging me at all, sweetheart. Is the paper not going well?"

"I just... I'm so bad at writing, and I don't know what I'm talking about, and I have no idea how I'm gonna get this done in time." His voice is shaking, and it's breaking Davey's heart a little. "I'm being dramatic, though. I just need to keep working on it."

Davey sits down on the edge of what's now a guest bed, his old outer space-themed comforter replaced with something more neutral.

"You're not dramatic, it's okay to be upset. Do you want me to come over and help?"

Jack's breath hitches softly, and it confirms that he's almost definitely crying.

"You don't have to, you're busy with your folks. I'm sorry for calling." He shudders a little as he must try to take a deep breath. "It's okay... I'm fine."

Davey sighs, almost exasperated with Jack's self-sacrificial sense of pride. He'll never ask for anything for himself, not wanting anyone to go out of their way for him, even when he seems to be having a panic attack of sorts.

"It's not okay; you're clearly not fine, Jackie," he replies. "We already ate, and I'm not busy. If you want me to come over, I'll be there... do you?"

Jack is quiet for a moment again, taking a deep, shaky breath.

"Yeah. I do."

Davey nods, though Jack can't see him.

"Okay. I want you to take a little break from writing until I get there, alright? Change into your pyjamas and have a glass of water. Try to relax a little."

"Okay... thanks Davey."

The call ends, and Davey rejoins his family while tucking his phone away in his pocket.

"I have to go." He kisses his mother on the head as he walks by. "Thanks for dinner, Ima."

"Is everything okay?" she asks, catching him gently by the elbow before he can get too far.

"Yeah..." he sighs. "Jack's just having a hard time with homework, I'm gonna go help him out."

His father ruffles his hair and gives him a quick hug.

"You're a good boy, David. Take him those leftovers— your mother's cooking can fix anything."

"For sure. I'll see you guys next weekend, and I'll try to bring Jack along then."

He waves goodbye to Sarah and Les, grabs the dish of food, and then sets off on a speed-walk to the nearest subway station.

Jack is sitting on the couch when he arrives, his knees pulled to his chest, looking very soft and cozy in pyjama pants and one of Davey's old hoodies from some baseball tournament. He's staring into space, and he hardly even moves to acknowledge Davey's presence when he walks in.

"Hey darling." Davey leaves the dish of food on the counter and crouches down in front of Jack to try and catch his eye-line. He carefully takes Jack's hands in his own. "Hanging in there?"

Jack finally looks at him and nods, but as he blinks, more tears slip out and roll down his cheeks.

"I'm only done two pages," he mumbles, practically whispering. "I don't know why it's so hard, but I just can't do it."

"Oh, Jackie..." Davey reaches up to wipe Jack's tears, cupping his face gently with both hands. "Hey, you still have three hours, right?" Jack nods. "That's lots of time. We're gonna figure this out... let's just sit here and calm down a little first. It's gonna be okay."

He climbs up onto the couch to pull Jack into a hug, and the moment he's settled, Jack wraps his arms around him and breaks, sobbing into his shoulder. Davey cards his fingers through his hair and rubs his back; he's never seen Jack this distraught, especially not over homework. There's a good chance the problem runs a lot deeper, and stressing over an assignment was simply the last straw.

"You're alright," Davey continues, since talking is what he does best, even in moments like this. Jack is shaking with the force of his tears, breathing so hard Davey worries he might hyperventilate. "Listen, it's just one assignment, my love... if you get a bad grade, or if we don't finish in time, we can deal with that. We'll hand in whatever we finish tonight, so at least you won't get a zero. Worst case scenario, you retake this class in the spring... even that doesn't sound so bad, does it? I know you could handle it, if that's what happens."

Jack nods a little, but his tears don't stop.

"I'm so tired of being stupid," he hiccups, after a long while. "I keep getting distracted, and I can't word things right, and I spell everything wrong, and- and maybe I should just drop out, because I'm clearly not meant to be doing this."

"Baby..." Davey sighs, giving him a gentle kiss on the temple. "You're so intelligent, Jack. You're almost done your degree— after this term, you've only got one year left, and it's not like you do poorly in your classes, is it? Even when it's something hard for you, like writing, you always do well when you put in the work. What did you get on your sociology paper a couple weeks ago?"

"Ninety percent," Jack mumbles, muffled by the way he's speaking into Davey's shoulder. "But I spent so long on it, and you edited it for me. I'm gonna fail this one. I can't do it in one night, and I can't write papers without your help."

"Well, I'm here to help now, aren't I?" He rests his hand midway through brushing it through Jack's hair and scratches his scalp gently, which makes Jack shiver and laugh quietly through his tears. "Right? And you can write, darling— all I do is fix up the spelling and grammar for you. The ideas and words are all you, just like when you give presentations and knock it out of the park every time. I sure can't do that."

Jack finally looks up at him.

"Yes you can. You get nervous beforehand, but when you do a presentation, it's always really good."

Davey smiles at him, now that they're actually looking at each other.

"It's hard for me, though. Just like writing is for you— but with lots of effort, you're really good at it. See my point?"

Slowly, a small smile spreads across Jack's teary-eyed face, and he nods. Davey feels rather accomplished with this development.

"I guess so." He wipes at his eyes and sighs. "Sorry about this. I'm such a mess."

"No apologies. I don't blame you for getting overwhelmed— you're in a tough spot here." He pulls Jack in for a quick kiss, which they both smile into. "I brought you dinner. Go heat it up when you're ready; I'll look over what you've written so far and see if I can come up with some more ideas to add on. We're gonna work together on it, okay? What painting did you choose?"

"The Martyrdom of Saint Matthew by Caravaggio," Jack sighs, looking almost forlornly at his computer on the table. "I have a lot to say about it, and lots of good stuff in my notes, but I just can't put it into paragraphs and sentences that make sense."

Davey nods, watching Jack as he stands up to go put the leftovers from Davey's family in the microwave.

"Well, I don't know anything about paintings, but if you talk me through it, I can help you put the actual paper together." He pauses as an idea dawns on him. "I'm gonna email your professor and ask about an extension— it might be a shot in the dark, but we should at least try. The worst he can do is say no."

"Sure," Jack replies from the kitchen, his voice still shaky. "He's a total hardass, though. Fingers crossed for a miracle."

Davey sits at the table, opens up Jack's email, and starts a draft.

Hi Professor Diaz,

Apologies for the short notice, but I'm wondering if it would be possible to have an extension on the analysis assignment, even if it's just by a few hours. I unfortunately mixed up some due dates in my planner, and I thought I had an extra week for this assignment; I only realized the mistake today, so I'm currently scrambling to get it done in time.

Would it be at all possible to turn it in a few hours late, just to have a bit more time to finish it up? I would really appreciate any amount of time you're willing to give me.

Thank you in advance for your understanding, Jack Kelly

He shrugs, sends it, and sincerely hopes a little professionalism and a decent (if slightly fabricated to make Jack look less forgetful) excuse will go a long way.

It's quarter to eleven, the paper is now five-and-a-half pages long, and Jack isn't crying anymore. He's in the zone, talking aloud about the painting while Davey helps him get his vague ideas into concrete sentences, and they're on track to have at least seven or eight pages by the time midnight rolls around— it might not get full marks, but it'll be better than nothing.

Jack's computer dings with the sound of a new email while they're taking a two-minute break— something they've interspersed every half hour, since Jack's focus is best in shorter bouts. He's in the middle of walking laps around the apartment to get his energy out and annoy his downstairs neighbours, but he scrambles back to the computer at the noise.

"We got a reply!" he shouts.

Davey is over on the couch, and he watches Jack's face closely as he opens the email. So far, so good... and then he slumps down in his chair in a show of what could either be defeat or relief. Davey can't quite tell, so he jumps up to go read it for himself.

Sure. Email it by 11:59pm tomorrow.

Sent from my iPhone

"Yes!" Davey shouts, grabbing Jack by the shoulders. "I told you it was worth a shot!"

Jack laughs, and then reaches up to pull Davey down for a kiss.

"You're the best, Jacobs. A fucking lifesaver." He rubs at his eyes, and then pushes his computer away, across the table. "I'll deal with this tomorrow. Let's just go to bed— you still have to be up early."

Right. Davey has a dreaded Saturday morning opening shift tomorrow— they open at five, and he has to be there well in advance to get set up, so he's got no chance at getting more than a few hours of sleep. He's going to be dead on his feet in the morning, probably fuck up a few coffee orders, but it'll be worth it to have helped Jack through tonight.

Poor Jack seems completely exhausted— as anyone would be after crying so hard earlier— so collapsing into bed after washing up quickly is an utter relief. Davey, despite being tall and long-limbed, greatly enjoys being the little spoon and Jack is happy to indulge him, so they curl into the familiar position.

"Thank you for everything tonight," Jack whispers, practically into Davey's ear. "I love you so much."

Davey smiles as his eyes fall shut, and he kisses Jack's knuckles softly, where his arm is wrapped around him.

"Any time, darling. I love you too."

#both my current projects are slow burns so an established relationship fic feels good #hope u enjoyed it!!!#javid #jack kelly #davey jacobs #newsies fic #my writing

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motherjoel · 4 years

Text

fine line series (spencer reid x reader)

part 1/3- to be so lonely

summary: spencer lets his jealousy and family problems get in the way of his relationship with you

a/n: you don’t need to know these songs at all to enjoy the story, but i recommend listening to them just for the full experience! harry styles is my fav :)

wc: 1.6k

part two, part 3

don’t call me baby again

it’s hard for me to go home

be so lonely

“Morgan, stop!” you giggled while being lifted up bridal style and twirled by the BAU’s resident jock against your will.

“I can’t help that you’re too damn cute, Y/N!” Morgan laughed before setting you down gently. The two of you were pretty close, and when it came down to it, Morgan was like the big brother you never had- everyone knew this. But apparently not everyone believed it

After chatting and laughing with Morgan for a bit, you noticed Spencer wasn’t at his desk anymore. You decided to search for your boyfriend, wondering if he was maybe getting coffee. When you entered the breakroom, your suspicions were proven to be correct as he poured himself another cup, strands of his unruly hair hanging in his face. You walked over to him and pushed a hair behind his ear, accidentally making him flinch.

“Oh I’m sorry babe, did I scare you?” you asked, apologetically. He was never this jumpy under your touch- he normally leaned into your caresses and head scratches.

“Nope,” he replied, nonchalantly popping the “p”. Without another word he headed back to his desk. You thought this was weird, but you brushed it off and returned to your desk where Morgan was waiting for you.

“Where’s my cup, princess?” he asked flirtatiously, one leg leaning on your desk.

“She’s not your barista, Morgan,” Reid scoffed, not looking up from his paperwork. You shared a concerned look with Morgan, wondering what was wrong with your boyfriend.

“I know pretty boy, I’m just thirsty is all,” Morgan said, holding his arms up in defense. When Spencer didn’t bother to reply, Morgan just headed back to his desk and continued to work on his files. You turned your attention to your snappy boyfriend, who had been looking at the same paper for a few minutes without turning the page- this is how you knew something was definitely wrong. You stood up and walked right in front of him, forcing his attention on you.

“Is everything okay, my love?” you asked, tilting his head up with your hand. He just looked away and pushed your hand back down.

“Why do you care? Why don’t you just ask Morgan? You’re his princess, after all,” he angrily replied, saying the last part under his breath.

“Hey, what's with the hostility?” you asked, standing up. You were surprised at this sudden shift in your boyfriend's attitude.

“Hostility? Y/N, you’ve been doing everything but making out with Morgan right in front of me, and you expect me to be peachy keen? Well, I’m sorry that I'm not as perfect as him,” he raised his voice, gaining the attention from the rest of the team, who had stopped working on their paperwork.

“Woah there pretty boy, Y/N and I are just friends, you know that,” Derek said, holding up a defensive hand.

“Go to Hell,” Spence bit back, before grabbing his bag and speedily making his way out of the room. Everyone stood in awe of what just happened, unsure of how to react. You decided to let him cool down and you all tried to get back to work, but the energy was off for the rest of the day. JJ had tried to make small talk with you, but you found it hard to be cheery after the incident from earlier. As you were packing up for the day, you decided to visit Spencer. Before you left, Morgan came up to you.

“Listen, Y/N, apologize to Spencer for me?” he asked, sincerely.

“I will Derek, but I honestly don’t think you have anything to apologize for, it's not like we were acting any different today,” you said and he nodded, deep in thought. “I’m gonna visit him now to see what's up,” you told him before saying your goodbyes to the rest of the team.

On the car ride to his apartment, you were racking your brain for what you did wrong, but you came up with nothing. You decided to just ask him straight out. Pulling into a parking spot, you made your way up and knocked on his door. You could hear things crashing as Spencer made his way to answer, which only increased your worry.

“Hey Y/N, decide you finally care about me?” Spencer greeted you, words slurring slightly and the smell of alcohol on his lips.

“You’re drunk, Spencer,” you acknowledged, pushing your way into his apartment as he stumbled behind you and took a seat on his couch, watching you as you stood in front of him, arms crossed.

“What was I supposed to do, stay sober while my life falls apart?” he asked, taking a swig of his travel size booze.

“Babe, don’t you think you’re being a bit dramatic?” you asked, trying to wrestle the booze from his hands- he didn’t put up much of a fight in his drunken state.

“No, I don’t! I’m having the worst week of my life, and my girlfriend doesn’t even love me anymore,” he pouted, putting his head into his hands. You sat next to him and rested a hand on his back, only for him to squirm out of your touch.

“Spence, you know I love you. Nothing you can say will make me stop, so just tell me what happened”, you almost begged, vowing to get to the bottom of this.

“Well, over the weekend I went to visit my mother,” he started, trying his best not to slur his words. “When I got there I could tell she didn’t recognize me anymore. She tried! But the entire visit, the woman who raised me didn't even know my name!” he shouted with a mirthless laugh before putting his head back into his hands. This broke your heart- of course he was on edge earlier.

“I'm so sorry baby,” you said, refraining from giving him a comforting touch.

“Don’t call me baby again,” he slurred into his hands.

“Spence, you’ve got your reasons for being upset. I wish you had told me sooner about your mom, maybe I could've helped you, or I at least could've been more sensitive at work,” you sympathized. He couldn’t even look at you.

“Do you think it's easy?” he asked, finally raising his gaze to you.

“Do I think what's easy?”

“Being of the ‘jealous’ kind,” he sighed, reaching for his alcohol again.

“Spencer, you’re just having a bad week,” you reasoned with him, worried about what he could say next. You soon learned that you were right to worry.

“This isn’t working out,” he said, looking at his hands.

“Well, if you would just talk to me, we could work things out,” you said, trying to put your hand on his back, only for him to squirm away again.

“No, Y/N! Us! We’re not working out,” he shouted. Your face went white. “I think you should leave,” he sighed, taking another swig.

This broke your heart into a million pieces, but you thought better than to fight it- he was drunk, and you doubted he'd even remember most of what he said. You, however, would remember. You wiped away the tears you hadn't realized were falling and you picked up your purse before rushing out of the room and into your car. You drove home in silence, the only noise being your occasional sniffle.

It had been a few hours since your fight. You were currently snuggled on the couch next to Penelope, who you had called once you got back to your apartment. The second she heard your raspy, choked-up voice, she was on her way with a tub of ice cream. The two of you had watched shitty reality TV for hours when she began to doze off- you, however, were not tired whatsoever. Your conversation with Spencer rang in your mind all day, and you wondered if there was anything else you could’ve said. Just as you thought this, your phone began to vibrate and Spencer’s smiling contact picture showed up on your screen. Penelope began to stir a bit but you just hushed her back to sleep before rushing into your room and shutting the door.

“Hi,” you said softly, embarrassed at the crack in your voice.

“I’m an arrogant son of a bitch,” Spencer began. You could tell by his voice that he had sobered up.

“Spence-” you started, only to be interrupted.

“No, I'm just an arrogant son of a bitch who can’t admit when he's sorry. Y/N, I'm so sorry. I-I was a jerk today, I didn’t mean anything I said,” he told you, and you wanted to believe him. You really did.

“Spence, you might have been right,” you said, so softly, you weren’t even sure if he heard it. He did.

“What?” he asked, and your heart broke.

“You might have been right. About… about taking a break,” you said, trying to keep your composure.

“No, Y/N, I was drunk, I didn’t mean it!” he pleaded through the phone.

“I know, but… you have a lot going on with your mom and you should be there for her. I don’t want to get in the way of your relationship with her,” you told him, biting your nails. As much as it broke you to say this, you only wanted him to be happy.

“Y/N I know what you’re trying to do. Please, please don’t do this,” he said, his voice cracking. You couldn’t take it anymore.

“I’m sorry Spence,” you said before you hung up the phone. You turned your phone on silent and went back into the other room, where Penelope was wide awake to greet you with open arms and soothing words.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid/you #spencer reid x you #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds reid #penelope garcia #derek morgan #harry styles #songfic

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thestrangebeingyouarent · 3 years

Text

i love you so fucking much - coops proposal

Haha, I feel like shit so here have some fluff. Also apparently I can't just write a cute date, it always turns into some grand gesture, it's called ~love starved~ (I just had a major stress thingy, which is why I can't put my own thoughts into words, only coops cuteness)

(I had paper rings by Taylor Swift on repeat, so do with that what you will - okay update 24 hours later: there will be a paper rings lyric fic :))

And a big thabk you to my beta @tonksandherpinkhair !! I really really appreciate it!!

!! Okay so I havent been very active on tumblr lately and I literally just, like 2 min ago, found out that @fruitcoops also did a proposal fic with paper rings by taylor swift. But I just wanted to make clear that this fic (or the part 2) wasn’t stolen from them, we just got the same idea apparently lmao. (I put this "warning" here, because my anxiety just told me that otherwise everyone will hate me and think I stole the idea)

I recommend that you still read their fic because it's really fucking amazing and adorable!!! !!

Cw// food, fear of drowning, swear words

~~~

'Mon loup, you know I love you, but why are we going ice-skating? It's our job.'

'It's romantic.' Sirius raised his eyebrow. 'Okay, I saw a couple do it on TikTok, but it was really romantic.'

'But do they play ice-hockey for a living?'

'Baby, we can stay there and have dinner and look at the stars. We can stay as long as we want. Please?' Sirius was persuaded at the word baby.

Sirius hadn't exactly known what made him agree -it was the word baby- but now he stood in front of a completely frozen lake. It felt different without his protection gear and with the fact that there was ice-cold water underneath the ice. A vivid memory of 10-year old Sirius came up.

It had been his first time skating on natural ice, but I wasn't cold enough. Sirius had taken one step on the ice and his foot went right through. The worst part was that no one seemed to care, except for Regulus. It was when Sirius started to realize they simply didn’t care about anything other than his reputation.

'Pads?' Remus' warm voice broke through the memory. 'Are you alright? You don’t have to skate if you don’t want to.'

'No, I want to.' He tried to smile. 'I'm sorry.'

'No need to be sorry, come, I'll help you.' Remus carefully stepped on the ice and Sirius almost winced at the thought of Remus falling through.

But when Remus took his hand all the ghosts from his past seemed to fade away and he realized that for once in his life there was nothing holding him back from being happy.

'I got you. One foot first.' Remus helped Sirius on the ice. 'Love you. Now let's go skate, shall we?'

Sirius laughed as Remus dragged him to the middle of the lake where loads of families were already skating together.

'Honey, like you said, this is your job,' Remus laughed when Sirius slipped.

'It's the ice! It's different!' He said, but he was laughing too.

'Sure, baby.' Sirius grabbed Remus' arm and pulled him on the ice with him. 'Sirius!'

He just laughed and tried to stand up and skate away, but Loops was put on the Lions team for a reason. Remus had reached him within a minute.

'Were we planning on going somewhere?' Remus' smile still gave Sirius butterflies sometimes.

'Sir?' A small girl looked up to Remus. 'How did you learn to skate so fast?' For a second he hesitated and then he lowered himself to eyelevel with the girl.

'Hi, what is your name?'

'Everly, but, Sir, how did you skate so fast?'

'Everly, manners!' a woman interrupted her. 'I'm sorry, she's six and, well, hard to control.'

'Oh that's alright,' Remus said. 'Hi Everly, my name is Remus Lupin. I play professional ice-hockey. But I can teach you some tricks. If that's alright with your mother, of course.' Sirius heart almost melted at the sight.

'Mommy, can I please skate with Remus?' The girl tried her best to look cute and Sirius had to admit that she was almost as cute as Remus.

'You are- That means you are Sirius Black, I thought I recognized you! Ev, stay in sight, okay?' She gave her daughter a stern look and then smiled. Both her and Sirius watched them skate away.

'I'm sorry, kids seem to automatically have thing for Remus. I can't say I don't understand them, though I hope it's a different kind of thing.' The woman laughed at Sirius', slightly awkward, but apparently successful ice-breaker.

'My name is Sarah by the way. I heard everything about you and Remus on the new some months ago, that must've been hard.' Sirius normally wouldn’t answer to this, but Sarah had somewhat the same motherly energy that both Hope Lupin and Celeste Dumais had, though maybe a little less.

'It wasn't, but it got us here.' She smiled at him.

'I'm glad it did.' She turned around to look for something. 'Oh, Jack! I am so sorry, my toddler just learned how to walk and Cecile and I have trouble getting him to not walk on the ice.' She smiled apologetically. 'Could you give a shout if something happens with Everly?' Sirius nodded. 'Thank you, darling,' she said as she skated to her wife and son.

Sirius saw her kiss her wife, Cecile, on the cheek and bow down over the toddler and he couldn’t deny that he wanted that. Someday. With Remus.

Then he felt a weight against his back and arms around his hips. 'Hey baby,' Remus whispered. Sirius turned around and kissed his boyfriend.

'Where is your little admirer?'

'She's showing her mom all the tricks I taught her.'

'You'd be a great dad.' Remus seemed a little taken aback by that.

'You would too.'

Sirius couldn’t hold it in. 'I want that. Someday.'

'Me too.' Remus couldn’t hold back a smile and kissed Sirius again. 'Love you,' he whispered against his boyfriends lips.

'Hmm, love you too,' Sirius replied.

'Do you want to sit down and eat something? I brought chocolate.'

'of course you did.'

Hours later, both Remus and Sirius were getting tired. They had skated, talked and exchanged contact with Sarah and her family and Remus had eaten a shocking amount of chocolate. They had been snuggled on a thick blanket with another blanket over them in a tent-like contraption for an hour now. Remus was the first to notice it was getting dark.

'Pads. Pads, we can see the stars now,' he whispered to a half-asleep Sirius. He took his hand and dragged him up. Let's go on the ice, there is the least unnatural light.' Remus began walking.

'Honey, you forgot your skates.'

'Don’t need 'em.' He walked to the middle of the lake and promptly sat down and then laid on his back. 'You coming?' Sirius rolled his eyes, but went to lay next to Remus anyway. There they looked up, waiting for the stars to become more and more visible. The ice was cold underneath them, but Remus warmth made up for that.

After a while the stars were very visible and Remus pointed to the sky. 'Okay, if that's the north star, than North is right,' he lowered his hand in a straight line, 'there.' He pointed somewhere to into the forest next to the lake.

'How do you know this?' Sirius looked at his boyfriend looked at him.

'I might have looked up how to stargaze this morning,' Remus admitted. Sirius laughed -it could almost be called barking- when he saw Remus' grin. 'Anyway, there is Ursa Major. And I think that that is..' That was the point where Sirius stopped paying attention to what Remus said and more to him.

Remus' lit up when he talked about something made him happy. He had a wide smile and gold sparks in his eyes.

'And that's you, baby, the dog star.' But Sirius didn't look up, he kept staring at his boyfriends face. 'Pads?'

'Marry me.' It slipped out. He hadn't meant to say it, but it was sincere.

'What!?' Remus shot up.

'I- I just realized how fucking much I love you. I want to spend every second with you, I want to talk either to you or about you, I want,' Sirius trailed off in a search for words, 'you.' He smiled. 'I just want you.' Sirius had not prepared this, in any way, but he was happy with what he said.

'Bab-y,' Remus' voice broke as tears welled up and Sirius sat up and then went down on one knee.

'I'm sorry I don’t have a ring, but here goes,' he smiled apologetically. 'Remus, will you marry me?'

'Yes. Yes, yes, yes, yes!' He kissed Sirius. 'Ba- fiancé,' he whispered against his lips, 'I love you so fucking much too.'

I kinda want a significant other now,, anyway, let me know if you want a part 2 where they tell people!!

(I'll probably write it anyway, but still!)

#wolfstar #sweater weather lumosinlove #sweater weather fanfic #lumosinlove #remus lupin #sirius black #proposal fic #coops #coops fluff #el's writing

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writingsfromhome · 4 years

Text

Hot Waters

A/N: this one’s a little more dialogue, but you manage a hotel Harry stays at and have to help him with an issue.

Part 2

———————————————————

As a manager of an upscale hotel I saw a lot of celebrities filter through the door. I could probably write a book, my own version of a tell-all exposing some celebs for what they really were. Sometimes the nicest ones were the snappiest and other times, the ones you thought were rude and stuck up took the extra time to thank your staff warmly and treat everyone with respect.

I’m in for the evening—that’s when most of them came under cover of the night, when they didn’t want the papps to know they were in town. Tonight’s guest stays a few feet from the counter as his manager or whoever checks him in. A false name of course, James Smith.

I glance at the man, the soft curls and stylish outfit, strong jawline and lean body. I could tell it was Harry Styles, this was a first for me. I could add him to the imaginary tell-all book in my head: oddly mute but just as cute in person. He looks antsy, fidgeting with his phone.

He catches me staring and nods. I give him my best customer smile and get back to the man finding his ID to show me.

“Thank you sir, here’s the key cards to your suites. Enjoy your stay!”

They barely acknowledge me, he’s already grabbing Harry’s arm and pushing him towards the elevators. Cool.

I don’t think much of it until five minutes before I leave for the night. It had been a long day for me covering since the breakfast shift—the morning manager was out sick. I was ready to fall asleep on my ride home but one of my newer staff comes up to me urgently.

“Hey, Y/N, suite 1203, the man is really annoyed and saying his hot water isn’t working.”

“Did you tell him how to turn the hot water on?” I ask, thinking she didn’t do a thorough job.

“Yes,” she looks upset. “Like three times before he just asked to speak to someone else.”

“Okay...” I wander to the front and take him off from holding. I check our database ahead of time for the name, James Smith. Of course. “Hello Mr. Smith, I heard about your hot water. It should be working-“

“It’s not! I got in thinking it would heat up but I was drenched with ice cold bloody water!” He sounds like a child about to throw a tantrum. I found working for celebs was just like working for glorified children sometimes.

“No other suite has made this complaint, the hot water is definitely working. Would you like a staff member to come check?”

He finally sounds reasonable, “Yes please, that would be great.”

“Let’s go,” I tell the newbie, she was still in training so it would be a good opportunity. But just as I step out from behind the counter an elderly customer walks up and I have to leave her behind. Guess this was my last task before heading home.

I knock on the door 1203 and hear a shout from inside that it’s open. I try the lock but it isn’t so I just use the master key and slip inside.

“Hi, Mr. Smith-“

“We both know it’s Styles,” Harry...Mr. Styles is dressed in nothing but a towel around his waist. His hair is wet and he really looks like a teenage fantasy. And with the way my eyes are glued to his abs, maybe I was reliving some teenage fantasy.

“Mr. Styles,” I clear my throat but from the way his mouth quirks I know the silence between when he spoke and I responded was a little too long. Long enough to notice I was staring. Jesus, I had to stay professional. I recall how he sounded on the phone-he’s just a big man baby, I remind myself. I was just way too single. “I can show you how to turn the hot water on so you don’t run into this again. We apologise for the trouble.”

He sighs, “You don’t need to apologise love, I was just frustrated b’cuz a nice relaxing shower turned into an ice bath.”

I let out the breath I was holding and erase the entry I’d written in my head about him so far. Replace man baby with: don’t judge based off his first impression, might be as kind as everyone says?

“Well we’re sorry about that anyway,” I head to the bathroom. I try to ignore the way he’d made the room personal in such a short amount of time. It wasn’t my job to pry into my customer’s personal lives...but it was so tempting!

I head to the shower and show him where to turn to get the hot water. It was simple but he claims the showers he’s used to, have the hot and cold on opposite sides. I would have pointed out there was an H and C engraved into the handle but the shower is such a small space and he crowds over me as he pays attention, I didn’t want to stay any longer. I’m very aware his towel brushing up beside me is the only thing he has on. I stumble back and compose myself.

“Is there anything else I can get you sir?”

“Please it’s Harry, don’t call me sir. Makes me feel weird.”

“Right, Harry.” I walk out into the bedroom and he follows. “Do you need anything else?”

“Um,” he looks off to the side to think and I can’t help myself—I take the moment he’s distracted to drink him in. He was fine indeed. My eyes catch on his famous butterfly tattoo, actually all of them. It was cool seeing them in person.

“You have any of your own?” Harry asks and my eyes snap up. I feel myself get hot, he caught me staring! But he doesn’t seem angry, he seems to think I was looking at his tattoos. I roll with it.

“Don’t tell my mom but yeah,” I reply. I only had two and managed to keep them secret from my very traditional family. Harry laughs and asks to see them. I show him the wildflower curved behind my ear. His breath tickles my hand that holds my ear down to show him.

“How do you manage to hide that?” He asks. I’m suddenly self conscious he’s studying me so close.

“A little bit of foundation, a lot of wearing my hair down.”

“Surely your mum wouldn’t care that much—you’re an adult.”

“You haven’t met my mom,” I think about her. “She’d say something like, ‘my tattoos are the reason I haven’t settled down’ or something.”

“Bloody hell,” he laughs. I feel a strange high knowing I’m making him laugh, he was being so friendly. Like an old friend. It was rare, but sometimes I forgot a customer was a hot shot musician or actor when I had one-on-ones. That usually scored them a down-to-earth point in my imaginary book. Maybe I just caught him at a bad time earlier, I think as he points to his tattoos, “I don’t want to know what your mum would say to me.”

“Um, Sign my arm so I can ink it probably?” I joke. I warm as he laughs. “She’s actually a huge fan of you, always has plenty of commentary when we watch the award shows. Claims she dated someone who looked just like you in high school.”

Oh god, I was blabbering. But from his expression, he finds it amusing.

“That’s lovely,” he studies my face again and I try not to squirm. I retreat back into professionalism, about to ask if he needed anything before I left—my shift probably ended. But he asks, “You said there were two. What about the second one?”

My body feels prickly, this was a customer and I was about to flash him-well not entirely but showing him where my second was...it was a big no being who I was and who he was!

“Right here,” I casually slap the general area of my underboob when he continues waiting. He raises an eyebrows and I just bite my lip. I was past nervous—at this point I was surprised my legs themselves hadn’t given away.

“May I see?” He asks, his face is intimidating when he asks so seriously. At least he was being polite, and he seemed genuinely interested.

Wait, was I really doing this?

“I...don’t know if that’s the best idea?” I squeak. He flashes me a smile could make a grown woman like me take off my shirt to show him. But I’m frozen in place.

“Is it personal?” He asks. Oh my god he didn’t get why I didn’t want to show it. Maybe I was the one making it a big deal.

Okay, I would show him.

“No, it just requires me to untuck my shirt,” I joke. “But I’m off for the night now anyway so I guess I can...” Every tug of the fabric feels like it’s slow motion, the blood rushing to my ears sounds like the roar of the ocean. He steps closer to me—still only in a towel! And finally I lift up the shit to just under my bra, the tattoo is the words the sun will rise again curving under my boob. It was a gentle reminder I kept close to my heart, and Harry was the first person aside from my best friend I had shown this to. It was strangely intimate.

He reaches out his hand and stops halfway, realising where he would be putting his hand. He retracts it and lets out a nervous laugh. I almost sigh at the missed contact.

“That’s really beautiful. I like the quote,” he says honestly.

“Yeah,” I can barely meet his eye. “It’s a good reminder. I can think of like, 10 worst-case-scenarios at any given moment. So...”

I trail off. The tension in the room seems to have grown in the last ten minutes. I’m inhaling it, and Harry is breathing it. And when I finally make eye contact with him, I can’t tell if he’s judging me or just watching me. He’s chewing on his bottom lip just staring at me, I can’t help but feel initimidated.

“Maybe I’ll get going if you hav-“

“You’re off your shift?” Harry cuts me off.

“Well,” I check my watch. “As of ten minutes ago yes.”

“What would you say to joining me for a drink?” Harry asks. Was this a drink drink? Oh my god, is this what happens when you flash someone your underboob.

“I’m not sure if that would be appropriate,” I feed the automatic line we’re all trained to say. But inside, I’m muffling my heart that wants to say yes I though you’d never ask.

“Well,” Harry says. “You’re just providing superior customer service.”

“But I’m off the clock.”

“So hard working,” Harry jokes. “She stays even after her shift is over.”

“You’re also dressed in just a towel,” I point out. He looks down and even he seems surprised. I laugh, “So that won’t exactly go down very well with my boss.”

“Aren’t you the boss?” Harry asks, his eyes scanning his open suitcase to pull out sweats. He steps into the bathroom—where moments earlier he was demanding a hot shower.

“Sort of, I co-manage. But I don’t own the hotel so...I have to answer to someone. Hey-didn’t you desperately need a hot shower?”

Harry doesn’t even close the door, but a minute later he’s back out in sweats. “I did, it was a long day travelling and I wanted to relax. But you’ve managed to do that for me.”

“Nice to know I’ve got the same charm as a hot shower,” I say cheekily.

“You’ve got more charm than a hot shower,” Harry goes to the minibar. “Now what can I make you?”

“Oh you’re making the drinks? Here? I can just ask the staff to bring up-“

“No, just sit down. I’m taking care of this.”

I boost myself up onto the dresser and watch him mix drinks. This close, I can reach out and trail my hands over his tattoos, see the stubble coming into his face, see the dimension to his hair. I was so totally single, just being this close to someone remotely good looking turned me absolutely gaga.

“So tell me honestly, how this is,” Harry hands me the concoction, watching me closely. I take a sip and nearly snort it out, it was strong.

“I don’t think I could drive home if I drink all of this,” I cough. “That almost went down the wrong pipe.”

Harry takes a big sip of his and laughs, “If you’re driving, don’t take any more of this.”

I settle the flute down and Harry places his down beside mine.

“I don’t have anything else to offer,” he looks at me.

“I can still ring something up for you.”

“I think I already rang up what I wanted,” he leans in, he was flirting. With me! And I can’t help myself. I lean towards him too. I forget where I am and what kind of trouble I could land myself in if I let this go through. I can’t even think straight, I just want to-

His fingers on my face jolt me out of my hypnosis. I lean back and slide off the dresser. I could get fired! What was I thinking!?

“Where are you going?” His brows knit together as I move away from him.

“I should get going home, I’ve been in since 6am.”

“Oh course,” Harry clears his throat. “Yeah-sorry I didn’t mean to keep you.”

“No it’s fine,” I say. “I would love to provide some of that superior customer service. But I really am functioning on one bar right now. I’ve got to go home and recharge.”

“Recharge yeah? A hot shower maybe?” Harry teases.

“Hm, yeah if I can get the hot water to work,” I tease back and I swear he blushes.

“I know a place where the hot water works 100%,” he tilts his head to his bathroom. Now it’s my turn to blush and walk towards the door.

“Alright,” he sticks out his hand when I turn to say bye. I stare at it before realising he wanted me to shake it. “Goodnight.”

I laugh and take it, “Goodnight Mr. Styles.”

Oh for god’s sake, I’m caught staring into his eyes again as we shake hands. He doesn’t let go of my hand and I can’t break eye contact. Finally, he cracks a smile and I look away. I really had to go or I could not hold myself back.

“Don’t hesistate to contact front desk for anything,” I say as I open his door. “And maybe don’t drink too many of that whatever mix you made.”

He pouts, “It’s the only thing keeping me company tonight.” Maybe I was right, he was a big baby. But one who’s cheeks I wanted to pinch. I resist the urge and wave before heading to the elevators.

I let out a breath when I get on. If I wasn’t careful, the man in 1203 could land in me some hot waters, no pun intended. If I wanted to keep my job that I loved, I had to make sure I steered clear of him. For good. And maybe find myself a boyfriend. Because...that was a close one.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles angst #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #fic #writingsfromhome #harry styles fluff #celeb harry

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matthewtkachuk · 4 years

Text

mad woman - topper thornton

The one where Topper’s insecurities and jealousy have driven you mad

Warnings: toxic relationship, domestic abuse of the emotional/psychological/slight physical variety, gaslighting

Pairing: Topper x reader

Words: 2.3k

A/N: This is based on mad woman by T Swift. Y’all I just love folklore so much, I couldn’t help myself. Special s/o to my bb @jellyfishbeansontoast for encouraging me to write this one ILYSM 🥺

(gif found on tenor - pls pls let me know if it’s yours and i’ll credit you!!)

What did you think I'd say to that? Does a scorpion sting when fighting back? They strike to kill, and you know I will

Fighting with Topper is nothing new. He’s a full kook, living on mommy and daddy’s money, five hundred dollar shirts, five thousand dollar watch. You grew up on the other side of the island, mama shuffling three jobs on top of taking care of you, your father having bailed before you had even made your entrance into this world. His overprivileged upbringing causing him to spout off some really uneducated opinions about class and income disparity in your presence. He used to admire the way you would pop off, trying your best to educate the boy who had stolen your heart. He loved your fire and your heart and honestly it was kind of hot watching you get mad. Now it just annoys him, you can tell. He no longer entertains your rants, but rather shuts you up quickly.

“You know, those pogues just don’t work as hard as we do. That’s why they’re over there in their run down houses, and we’re here sipping expensive champagne on a hundred thousand dollar yacht.” Topper announces unexpectedly one afternoon as you sit tucked under his arm on the Cameron’s yacht. Your mouth falls open in indignation as his friends all agree with him.

You’re not stupid, you know the group you’re in don’t think highly of your kind, but they’ve always treated you with a modicum of respect as Topper’s girlfriend.

“Are you serious, Top? You think pogues don’t work hard enough? My mom works three jobs, Top. Three! I work two jobs myself, and here I am choosing to spend my very limited free time with you and you’re going to say shit like that.”

Topper rolls his eyes, reaching for your arm but you jump back from him. “Come on, y/n it’s not that serious, sit back down.”

“Not that serious? Fuck you Top, of course it’s not that serious to you. You don’t understand the meaning of hard work, you’ve never had to lift a finger to get to where you are.” You’re glaring at him now, so unbelievably frustrated that he’s stubbornly sticking to his earlier statement. “Take me back Rafe,” you turn your glare on Rafe who looks between you and Topper, clearly conflicted.

“Listen baby you’re being crazy,” Topper tries again to reach for you but you swat away his hand.

“I’m serious Rafe, take me back or I will jump off this boat and swim back.” You threaten your boyfriend’s best friend. Despite his earlier aggressions against your friends, he’s always treated you the best since becoming Topper’s girlfriend. And he knows you’re more than likely serious, so he sighs and steers the yacht back towards the docks. You sit on the other end of the boat, ignoring Topper’s attempts to half-heartedly apologize.

The second you near the docks, you don’t waste any time waiting for Rafe to tie the boat to the dock, you make the jump unaided. You see JJ and Pope giving you a concerned look from Heyward’s boat. Their concern only grows as Topper yells your name and tells you to come back. You don’t even look back as you throw your middle finger at him over your shoulder before hopping into Heyward’s boat.

They try and ask you if you’re okay and what happened, but you just shake your head and tell them you don’t want to talk about it. You hear Topper swear as he hits the dock, not fast enough to reach the boat before JJ is driving off.

Your friends don’t like him. They really, really don’t like him. Years of bad blood between him and all of you have them suspicious and untrusting. You don’t fault them for that, having been witness to some of the worst kook v pogue showdowns, but you know both sides have their faults. Sure Topper was responsible for ratting out Pope which resulted in JJ going off the rails after being forced to pay 25k in restitution, but Pope sunk his new speed boat.

But your friends said they would try, for you, and so you don’t really want to get into the specifics of why Topper has made you so mad, lest they renege on their deal.

Every time you call me crazy, I get more crazy What about that? And when you say I seem angry, I get more angry

You’ve cooled down by the time night rolls around, and so you find yourself sitting on the beach between Topper’s legs, your back pressed to his chest and his arms wrapped around your middle. You’re enjoying the sounds of the waves crashing on the beach and the feel of your boyfriend wrapped around you when he has to open his mouth and ruin the moment.

“I don’t understand why you have to get so crazy. I was just talking with the boys,” he murmurs behind you. You can’t tell if he’s actively trying to rile you up or if it’s just a side effect of his lack of courtesy.

“Crazy?” You ask him incredulously before repeating yourself, “Crazy?! Oh I am sorry for being so insane standing up for my mother. How would you like it if I made a comment about your mom, huh?”. You struggle against him, but he links his arms around you tighter.

“Hey, calm down! I didn’t say anything about your mother, you’re the one just looking for something to be angry about.” He replies, more than a little annoyed at your combative response.

You throw his arms off of you, angrily scrambling to find purchase in the sand to pull yourself up. “I’m not looking for anything! You drive me crazy, you make me angry!”

You were never the most combative of people, growing up around JJ you let him be the hotheaded one whose temper flared at every minor sleight. You on the other hand preferred to sit back from the action, only stepping in when your friends were in trouble.

Topper brought out another side in you. At first you thought it was a good thing, he made you feel so much, made you so passionate.

“I’m sorry baby, I didn’t mean it like that,” he sighs as he stands up to walk in front of you, grabbing your hands.

“Every time you call me crazy, I get more crazy,” you admit to him, “and when you say I seem angry I only get more angry. Why are you trying to antagonize me?”

He drops one of your hands to rest one on your face, letting his thumb stroke your cheekbone first and then your bottom lip. You look up at him

“I don’t mean it like that, you know that baby.” He leans in to kiss you and you let him, “Can you just try and be a little more calm and unassertive around my friends, you know it bothers me when you act out like that.”

“I know,” you reply quietly, all fire in you extinguishing further with every press of his lips to yours.

“Thank you, baby. You know I love you, all of you. Even the scrappy, crazy, angry pogue parts of you,” he kisses you again.

You think his words are supposed to be a compliment, but they just sit around in your gut causing you discomfort.

No one likes a mad woman You made her like that And you'll poke that bear 'til her claws come out And you find something to wrap your noose around

“You’re cheating on me aren’t you?” He yells, under the influence of several beers and at least one line of coke you imagine. You roll your eyes, attempting to push past him, not wanting to get into this again. Especially not in his inebriated state. He has other ideas though, spinning you around by grabbing your wrist before pushing your shoulders into the wall, caging you in between it and his warm body.

You struggle against him, “what the fuck Top get off of me!”. He only presses you into the wall further.

“Answer the fucking question, y/n. Are you cheating on me with one of your shitty little pogue friends?” He spits in your face, anger taking over his usually delicate features. As you look into his blue eyes, pupils dilated almost entirely, you realize you don’t recognize this Topper.

Topper has always been jealous and insecure, Sarah Cameron really did a number on him when she went and shacked up with John B behind his back. You had tried your best to reassure him at every turn that you weren’t Sarah and you would never do that to him, but that didn’t stop him from blowing up with jealousy over your friends. It probably related to the fact that you hung around Sarah and John B, or maybe your close friendship with Pope and JJ. Topper was jealous of how close you were with all of them, sometimes angrily calling you every five minutes when you were alone with any one of them.

“Of course not, what are you talking about?” You shout back, hands wrapping around your body defensively.

“I’m not fucking stupid, I know you’re doing something with one of them, so which is it? Heyward? Maybank? Or do you share Routledge with Sarah?”

You’re trying to placate him, but he just keeps poking and poking, “I’m not fucking any of them, God Topper what the fuck?”

“You’re just a stupid pogue whore,” he snarls at you, shoving you harshly against the wall once more before letting you go. You cry out, as your head smashes against the wall painfully, causing you to see stars.

“Fuck you Topper,” you seethe, pushing him back with all of your strength. The alcohol coursing through his veins causes him to stumble a bit more than he would have sober, allowing you to escape. “It’s fucking over!”

“Good, I never fucking loved you anyway,” he shouts back at you, “It was just a game, to try and fuck a pogue and make her fall in love with me.” You feel his words like a noose around your neck, pulling tightly and suffocating the breath right out of you.

You’re sobbing, unsure of how you managed to escape that house with Topper’s words chasing you the whole way. Every kiss, every word, every I love you passed through your mind. You gave him your virginity for fuck’s sake, you gave him every part of you and he had taken everything from you, thrown it in your face, insulting you and calling you a whore.

You know you can’t go home like this, so you head to the one place you know you’ll be able to find comfort, walking into the Chateau and directly into Kie’s arms.

Now I breathe flames each time I talk My cannons all firin' at your yacht They say "move on," but you know I won't

You’re angry now, the spell broken between you and Topper. Realizations of the months of gas lighting and emotional abuse crashing into your world view like the waves in tropical storm. You recognize that your months of excusing his behaviour based on what he went through in the past was just that – excusing his shitty behaviour. His prior relationships had nothing to do with you, and it wasn’t right of him to take it out on you.

You spend many nights ranting and raving to the pogues, who mercifully limit their ‘I-told-you-so’s under the threatening gaze of one Kiara Carrera.

“I can’t believe I was blind for so long, I let him treat me like shit and I pushed you guys away.” You’re laying on the bow of the HMS with Sarah and Kie beside you.

“It’s not your fault, y/n/n, believe me,” Sarah tells you, running a hand through your hair soothingly.

“I don’t condone cheating, but I almost understand why you did it,” you admit tearfully to Sarah, who only smiles at you.

Two weeks pass like this, before JJ interrupts your ranting telling you it’s time to move on and that any guy would be lucky to land the hottest chick on the island. The sentiment makes you smile, but you know you won’t be able to move on. Not just yet. Topper had your whole heart and had tossed it onto the concrete, shattering it into a million pieces.

The pogues decide the best cure for heart break is to throw a wild kegger and let you get drunk out of your mind to forget. JJ even gives you a joint, winking at you and telling you “hydroponic” before throwing finger guns at you and walking away. Things are going well, you’re three or four beers in, all cares thrown into the wind when your spine stiffens as you spot Topper.

You catch his eye from across the boneyard, your pulse painfully beating in your ears as your traitorous heart races at the sight of him. He’s got his arm around some pretty little kook who you’d only really seen at Figure 8 parties he had dragged you to. You think there’s a little guilt in his expression, maybe a little longing and regret too, but his arm remains firmly around the girl. She looks up at Topper, before following his gaze right to you. You see her tense, and then relax as you hear clear as day not to worry, that you’re just some crazy pogue.

You meet his eyes again, mouthing “Fuck you forever”, before leaning into Kie’s side as you walk back into the thick of the party, letting Topper tell the next girl you’re just a mad woman.

No one likes a mad woman What a shame she went mad You made her like that

obx tag list (ily guys!!): @danicarosaline @velyssaraptor @copper-boom

#obx #obx fanfiction #topper obx #topper x you #topper x reader #topper imagine #topper fanfiction #topper thornton x you #topper thornton x reader #topper thornton imagine #topper thornton faniction #diverdcwn writes #t swift folklore #songfic

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greekgeek21 · 3 years

Text

Percy Jackson & The Avengers: Convergence - hurricane percy hits vegas

EEE! I'm so excited for this chapter, and idk why. We get some Poseidon content tho, so yay for that! I'm pretty sure I'm just so excited cuz I just finished writing ch. 12 and IT. IS. AMAZING!!

Ok, so if you've noticed the change in my profile pic, you can figure out what I'm about to do. Well...surprise! Another pjo stan is coming out! I'm pan🏳️‍🌈✨

Anyway, remember to comment, like, follow me, and reblog! Stay safe and happy reading!

- your author

Ω ♆ Ω

Okay, so maybe jumping out of the window before Blackjack was within a hundred feet was a bad idea, but can you really blame him? If Percy had stayed, the others would have tried to convince him to wait and make a plan before leaving to save Annabeth, and it probably would've worked! But doing that gave her captors more time to hurt her. That was not okay with him.

Fortunately, his amazing pegasus could fly really fast when put in the right situation. Say, one like Percy freefalling from a skyscraper? He still cut it close, though. Percy got within six feet of the ground before Blackjack swooped up under him. It hurt like hades.

"What am I here for, boss? Not that I don't enjoy our hang-out sessions, but still, why am I here?" Percy heard Blackjack ask in his head.

"We're going to Vegas to save Annabeth. She's been taken by the people we've been hunting," he answered.

"Oh, no! I'll go into overdrive for this trip! Annabeth gives me donuts!"

If one looked closely, they would see that Percy cracked a small smile at that. Blackjack always knew how to lighten the mood.

"Just hurry, bud. They sent pictures of her tied up and beaten. I'm not sure what condition she'll be in when we get to her," Percy said.

"That's it! These guys are dead meat!" Blackjack sped up even more.

Percy was really afraid to look down because he was pretty sure that they had already passed four state lines, and his friend showed no signs of letting up. With all the complaining about being tired Blackjack did on their other quests, Percy would've never thought he could do this. Just goes to show what can happen when you hurt someone's friend.

Yeah, Percy had calmed down enough to rationalize that this was a stupid idea (maybe his worst one yet), but he was still going to do it! This was Annabeth we're talking about! There's nothing he wouldn't do for her, and that includes storming straight into that gods-forsaken casino and demanding to know where she was.

If you're wondering, yes, he did just that when they got there. Blackjack almost passed out as soon as they landed, but Percy was already hopping off and running in before the pegasus had even caught his breath.

"Get out of here, bud! This is gonna get messy!" he called over his shoulder before pushing the front doors of the Lotus Hotel and Casino open.

Ω ♆ Ω

It was very clear that something was wrong as soon as Percy stepped into the lobby. It was completely empty. The farther he went in, the less he found. There was nobody. The last time he had been there, it was packed with people from all different time periods and everyone was doing something, but now, nothing.

It was disconcerting, to say the least. It felt like the beginning to every horror movie out there.

What was worse, is that every activity was shut down but one: the ferris wheel. It was spinning with all of the lights on, a faint carnival music playing from hidden speakers. Once again, Percy's thoughts drifted to horror movies. He wouldn't be surprised if a ghost popped up in front of him.

Before he continued on, Percy stopped and took a breath, bouncing up and down to shake out the nerves, "Come on, Percy. You got this. Just go save Annabeth and get out. That's all there is to it."

He walked up to the ferris wheel and saw that there was a single occupant riding it: Annabeth. She was up on the top, but Percy would recognize those golden locks anywhere. Her form was slumped against the side of her car, so she was probably unconscious. As she got closer to the ground, Percy saw that she was even more beaten up than the picture had shown. Her hands and ankles were bound with celestial bronze chains and she had a gag in her mouth.

Percy's blood boiled.

"Annabeth!" He shouted, running towards her as soon as the cart got to the bottom.

It kept moving, but he quickly grabbed her and pulled her off and away from the ride.

"Annabeth, wake up. Come on, 'beth, you have to be okay," he muttered, pulling the gag out of her mouth and starting to work on the chains, though he wasn't sure where to start.

Her eyes were still closed, but he heard a faint whisper from her mouth say, "It's Annabeth."

He laughed in relief, pulling her to his chest in a tight hug.

"Don't ever do that to me again. I lost it," he said, kissing her on the forehead.

Her eyes slitted open, "No promises, Seaweed Brain."

Percy was about to bring her in for a kiss when a voice interrupted them, "I'm glad you got to save her, Perseus. Now it'll be that much worse for you when we take her away again."

Percy shot up from the ground, pulling out Riptide and going into a protective stance in front of a kneeling Annabeth, "You're not going anywhere near her!"

The voice belonged to a mortal man. He had a long cut along his face, which seemed to be made by a claw, and his hair was a dark brown with speckles of grey. He seemed pretty average besides the scar. He had three men behind him, along with a hellhound, two empousa, and a couple basilisks. All looked ready to strike at a moment's notice.

The man tutted, "Oh, but I think I am. You see, you're going to give her to us."

Percy glared, "And what makes you think that?"

The man smiled, "Because of your family, of course. The normal one. Your mom, Sally, and her husband, Paul, and what's the last one's name...? The baby... Estelle! Yes, Estelle. We know where they are right now, and with one order from me, they will be killed by the giants we have standing by."

Percy growled, lunging forward, but a growl from the hellhound stopped him, "You're not going to touch them or Annabeth! I'll kill you first!"

The mortal leader gave a fake frown, "Oh, Perseus, how naive you are. Don't you see what's happening? Your people are the monsters. You just threatened to kill a mortal, the very thing you are put on this Earth to protect! How would your father feel about that?"

Hundreds of pipes burst in the hotel. Percy was only holding himself back because of Annabeth. As soon as she was out of danger, he would let himself go. He didn't care that they were mortals. Those men weren't the type of people he wanted to protect.

But- his family were still in danger. Even if the guy was bluffing, Percy couldn't take that risk.

Annabeth pulled herself to her feet and put a hand on his shoulder, leaning in to whisper in his ear. "Let them take me. You know it's the right thing to do. I'll be okay. You just need to lead the Avengers to their base, okay, and then you can save me all over again."

She cracked a small smile, hoping to comfort him but ultimately just making Percy feel worse.

Percy pulled her in for a searing kiss, and when he pulled back, a defeated look in his eyes, Annabeth knew he was letting her go. She had to; it was the best solution. She could protect herself and the Blofis family couldn't.

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you, too," Percy's eyes were misty and he was slipping on his control.

With one last, loving look at her boyfriend, Annabeth walked to the opposing group, allowing them to roughly grab onto her and pull her to the hellhound, who was ready to shadow travel her and the other mortals to wherever their base was.

Percy steeled himself for a fight because he knew there was no way it was that easy. He was not getting out of this unscathed. They had left the monsters there for a reason, and that reason was to probably kill him. That wasn't going to happen, though. They had chosen the wrong day to mess with Percy Jackson. He was going to let Hades rain down on them.

"Are we gonna stand here all day or are we gonna fight?" he asked, twirling his sword around, "You know what? Nevermind. I don't feel like fighting."

Then before the monsters could react, he released the storm within.

Ω ♆ Ω

"Come on people! Let's get a move on!" Steve shouted, already running to the quinjet.

He saw that everybody was still lagging, but wasn't sure what else to do. Fortunately, Piper had noticed his struggle and came to his rescue.

"Everybody hurry up! We don't know what stupid thing Percy is going to do, so we need to get there before he does it!" she yelled, lacing lots of charmspeak with her words.

Instantly, all of the demigods and Avengers sped up and were all on the jet within a minute. Steve gave Piper a grateful glance before climbing in himself, the daughter of Aphrodite following close behind.

Once everyone had taken their seats, Natasha and Clint up in the cockpit, they took off.

"So...does anyone even know what we're going to do when we get there? Or what Percy was planning on doing?" Leo asked, voicing everyone's thoughts.

Steve sighed, "We can only do damage control. If Percy hasn't done anything yet, we talk him down from it. If he has, we figure out a solution to getting it stopped, no matter what it takes. Now we don't know Percy as well as you five, so we need you to try and predict what he might do."

The rest of the Seven shared a look and Jason spoke up, "Percy and Annabeth are very...special to each other. If one of them is hurt, the other loses control very easily. So, basically, anything could have happened."

He glanced apologetically at the Captain, who just sighed in response. It was no doubt going to be a long day, and then an even longer one when Fury found out about this. Going down that train of thought made him more and more exhausted.

"Las Vegas, here we come," Tony muttered.

Ω ♆ Ω

As they started entering the Las Vegas area, it became abundantly clear that they were already too late to stop Percy. The sky was dark, thunder rolling through the clouds, rain pouring down on the streets around the casino. A whirlwind of water was circling the hotel and the ground was shaking. Geisurs were popping up just as fast as they were closing. It was a shitshow, basically.

"Percy did this? By himself?!" Tony exclaimed, staring in shock at the storm.

"Yep. He doesn't seem like much of a kid now, does he?" Jason said, strapping an arm guard on.

"Nope," Tony whispered.

Frank said, "How are we even going to get inside?"

"We're going to go from above, straight through the eye of the storm. It's the only opening, from what I can see," Natasha answered, already guiding the plane up and towards the center of the destruction, "Hold on. This is gonna get rough."

"Oh. That's comforting," Frank muttered, holding on to his seatbelt tight.

"Dude, if we crash, you can just turn into a fly or something and get out of here, but me, I'm going to die with the plane," Leo said, cracking a joking smile.

Hazel sighed, "Leo, your fireproof. If anyone would survive the crash, you would."

Leo chose not to point out that he was trying to lighten the mood with a self-deprecating joke. Hazel with confidence is scary.

Besides, that's when the shaking started. The wind and water was throwing the quinjet around, thrashing it from side-to-side, trying to throw it down but Natasha and Clint were keeping it up.

Slowly but surely, they got the plane lower and lower until it was hovering just above the courtyard of the hotel (if you can even call it that). It was an open area with rollercoasters and games all around. The Avengers couldn't believe they hadn't heard of this place before! It was amazing! The demigods, however, were shocked that the mortals could even see what was around them. The Mist was either weakening (unlikely) or the Avengers were starting to become clear sighted (could be bad).

"Ok, everyone, get out before this thing crashes!" Natasha yelled, gripping the steering gear like a lifeline.

It probably wasn't even her demanding voice that got everyone off the jet quickly, but they did anyway. The demigods and Avengers found themselves huddled behind a concession stand while they surveyed the area. It was easier for the demigods, who could naturally see through the veil of Mist surrounding it. The Avengers' eyes were refocusing every couple of seconds because something like a stuffed bear would turn into a stuffed Minotaur and then back into a bear again.

"Stay close, team. We're in unknown territory," Steve immediately slipped into his leadership role.

"Do you guys see Percy?" Hazel asked, looking around for her friend with a worried expression on her face.

"Um...yeah, I do. Over there," Frank's hand pointed towards the ferris wheel, and everyone's eyes followed it's path.

It led directly to the center of the storm, just as they all secretly knew it would. Everyone wanted to believe their friend or colleague couldn't be capable of creating a "natural" disaster until it happens. Now the team was left to clean up the mess.

"Oh, great. This should be fun," Tony sarcastically commented, seeing that Percy's eyes were closed and he was just sitting there on his knees.

He wasn't even wet, or affected by the storm at all. It seemed to be molding around the boy. The cracks on the ground had even left him alone. Percy was a force of nature.

"How are we going to get to him, let alone make him stop all of this?!" Jason asked, raising his voice to be heard over the screaming wind.

"I don't think he'll hurt us. He let us come down with the plane. If it was anyone else, he would've let it tear apart, but not us. He wants us to help him, and we're going to do just that, okay?" Piper answered, standing up.

She still had to stabilize herself on the cart, but she kept herself up. Everyone else in the group still looked skeptical of her plan, if you could even call it that, but they followed her lead and stood up as well.

With a calm determination only a demigod could possess in the face of battle, she started the trek over to their friend. Percy didn't make a move, either not seeing them or not caring.

"Percy. Percy. Listen to my voice, Percy. Everything is going to be alright. You need to focus on my voice, Percy," Piper started to say even though the wind was carrying it away a second later.

They had to try everything, and given the fact that the wind seemed to slow down just a tiny bit, Piper took it as a win.

The Avengers and the rest of the Seven were making slow movement, their feet feeling like lead as they forced themselves to keep going. They were grabbing onto whatever was nailed to the ground for support as small tremors rocked the building. It was obvious there had been a different, major earthquake that had caused most of the damage, so they weren't complaining about aftershocks.

"Keep going! We're almost there!" Steve yelled, digging his shield into the ground for something to hold onto.

It took a long time for a short distance, but they eventually made it to right in front of Percy. He had still shown no sign of knowing they were there.

"Percy! Can you hear us?!" Jason shouted, grabbing onto his gladius that he had previously stabbed into the ground.

Still no movement, though a tear did fall down his cheek. It was the only water that had actually touched him so far. Everyone but him was soaked to the bone, while he had stayed completely unaffected. Jason kneeled down and tried shaking his friend, only to be pushed back by a blast of water.

While he was sputtering out the liquid, Tony said, "We need a new plan! This isn't working!"

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock! But do you see a plan laying around here somewhere, cuz' I don't!" Piper shouted.

That's when a sea breeze blew through the area and under their noses. Unlike the stormy sea smell that Percy was radiating right now, this one was calming and gave you the feeling of a relaxing day at the beach. Jason was the quickest one to realize what was happening, so he warned everyone else as quick as possible, "Close your eyes!"

The Seven followed his instructions without question, being used to this by now (plus Jason wasn't planning on nearly dying again). The Avengers, however, were a divided front. Natasha, Clint, and Steve all did as they were told, not willing to take a chance on Frank being wrong about whatever he was scared of. Tony and Bruce, did not. They looked around at Frank like he was crazy. Fortunately, they had turned enough so that when there was a blinding flash of light and a small pop, nobody had seen it full-on. What was left afterwards was a man in a hawaiian shirt and sandals. He had tan bermuda shorts and a beat-up old fishing hat with the words Neptune's Lucky Fishing Hat on it. But those weren't the most shocking features about the man. What was most shocking was his similarity to Percy. His skin tone, matching Percy's. His hair color, matching Percy's with only a few more grey spots. His eyes, matching Percy's without a doubt. Natasha was the first of the Avengers to come to the startling realization that this was Percy's supposedly missing-at-sea father.

He was completely unaffected by the storm swirling around them. Physically, at least. He seemed to be really worried about his son, and only spared a glance at the other befores crouching in front of Percy. He put his hands on his son's shoulders and gently shook him.

"Son, wake up," Poseidon said, "You have to stop this."

Percy made a groaning sound and slitted his eyes open. His arms were wrapped around his stomach in pain.

"Ow," he muttered.

Poseidon cracked a small smile, though his eyebrows were still furrowed in worry, "That's what happens when you create a tropical storm and earthquake in the middle of Nevada."

Percy's eyes shot open, "Dad?! What're you doing here?!"

Poseidon gave him a frown, "Making sure my son doesn't kill himself."

Percy grimaced, holding himself just a little bit tighter at the reminder of what was currently still going on around them.

"Percy, what were you thinking?!" the god of the sea exclaimed.

The boy knew he was in the wrong, so he just shrugged and gave his father a misty-eyed, helpless look, "I can't make it stop, Dad. What do I do?"

Poseidon sighed. Seeing how fragile his son was right now broke his heart.

"You can let me help. We'll stop it together."

Percy nodded, letting the deity help him to his feet and support him once he got there. Neither man spared a glance at the assembled group of heroes behind them, instead turning determined faces towards the storm.

"You focus on the earthquakes. I'll take care of the storm, Perseus," Poseidon said.

The son of the sea god nodded, kneeling down so he had his hands placed on the ground. He closed his eyes and focused; focused only on the shaking, and then imagined the shaking receding like the tide. Then, eventually, it stopped all together.

He felt a large weight be lifted off his shoulders at the feeling of his power pulling itself back inside of him. His father had made quick work of the storm, and now all that was left was a trashed mystical hotel and casino.

Percy turned back to father, and gave him a small, grateful, exhausted smile, "Thanks, Dad. And I'm sorry for letting it get so out of hand. I know better than that."

Poseidon grasped his son in a bone-crushing hug, "It's okay, son. I'm not one to talk. Remember San Francisco?" he turned to a whisper, "That was my own version of a temper-tantrum. Don't tell your Uncle Zeus, though. He'd skin me alive if he knew the real reason I did that."

Percy's smile widened just a bit, "Okay, dad. You can let me go now. This is getting weird. We don't do this. You're not even supposed to be here right now."

At first, that last thought was just a flippant comment, but now Percy realized just how much trouble he, or his father, could be in with Zeus because of this.

"Dad! You're not even supposed to be here right now! You have to go! Right now, before Uncle Z finds out!" he shouted, shoving himself out of the hug.

Poseidon laughed, "Persues, think about it. You just created a 7.1 earthquake in Nevada, while simultaneously making a category 5 hurricane pop up nowhere near the coast. I think he noticed. He was actually the one to send me. He thought I'd be the only way to calm you down."

He gave his son a meaningful glance, and he got a sheepish neck rub in return.

Poseidon sighed again, "It's okay. He's not too mad. He's actually pretty happy that it wasn't one of his kids this time."

The god finally turned and acknowledged the other people in the room, giving Jason a look. Jason didn't seem to know what to do with that. He just kinda stood there, in shock that he had been noticed by Neptu- Poseidon.

Frank and Hazel both kneeled, soon followed by the rest of the demigods. It seemed that everyone was still recovering from the storm, and wasn't sure what to do with the fact that Percy's dad (a literal god) just showed up and was speaking with their friend like they were best buds (or more accurately, father and son).

The Avengers were giving incredulous looks to everyone, even the superspies. Ok, so first, a random fisherman shows up, then they find out that the guy is actually Percy's father, and then dad helps stop a natural disaster. But that was all easier to process than the kids kneeling to Percy's dad. Like he was God or something!

"Um, is anyone going to explain what the hell is going on right now?" Tony asked, head whipping back and forth between the look-a-like father and son and the rest of the teens.

Poseidon turned to the billionaire with an amused smile on his face, "Anthony Stark. Nice to finally meet you. My nephew enjoyed your work."

Percy snorted, realizing just what nephew his dad was talking about. Of course Ares would like a weapons manufacturer.

Tony smirked, smug, "Well, thank you, random stranger. That means absolutely nothing coming from you because we have not yet been introduced. I'm Tony Stark."

Poseidon turned to his son, "I like this one. Very brave."

"Give it a minute," Percy said, "It'll pass."

Ignoring the billionaire's protests, Poseidon turned to the demigods assembled, "Rise, half-bloods. You have saved Olympus enough to not need to kneel to me."

They cautiously rose.

"Olympus? Half-bloods? What are you talking about? Who are you?" Natasha asked, narrowing her eyes at the stranger.

She didn't trust him. He radiated too much power, power that was too similar to Percy's for her liking.

"I am Poseidon, Percy's father and a couple other titles. You may call me Lord Poseidon," was the answer she got.

She raised her eyebrows. The guy had a strong god-complex. Though she had met Thor before, and he had one just the same. Maybe these were more Asgardians or something like that.

"What are you?" Clint asked, not realizing just how much he was pushing it.

Poseidon's gaze darkened, "Be careful how you speak to me, mortal. I am being very gracious right now."

"Are you implying that you aren't mortal? Like Thor?" Bruce spoke up, literally surprising everyone.

The fact that he had come along was a miracle in itself, and now he was speaking to this obviously-powerful man.

Poseidon's nose wrinkled in disgust, "Thor is nothing like me. He is no god."

Percy decided to break in before things could get out of hand again, "Ok! Dad, you should probably get going. You know, oceans to run and everything!"

Poseidon's shark-like glare softened for his son and he nodded. But before he could leave, he pulled Percy aside.

"Tell them. You have our permission," he said.

Percy smirked, "I think I got that from you throwing around words like 'Olympus' and 'half-blood,' Dad."

Poseidon turned serious, "Be careful in the near future, my son. You have a rough journey through the Sea of Monsters to rescue Ms. Chase. She is on Polyphemus' island. That is all I could gather for you. I hope it is enough to keep you alive. I know it would be a fool's errand to try and convince you to not go. Your fatal flaw prevents it."

"I'll be okay, Dad. I promise."

Poseidon noticed how he didn't swear it on the River Styx. So Perseus had just as many doubts about this quest as he did. He refused to lose another son, though.

Placing a hand on Percy's shoulder, he spoke one last time, "Just be careful, Percy. For me, if you must."

Percy nodded.

"Alright," Poseidon said, "Everyone close your eyes!"

This time, everyone, including the mortals, listened.

Once the light had died down, Percy turned back to the Avengers and his friends, a hugely-apologetic look on his face.

"I'm so sorry, guys. Did anyone get hurt?" he asked, walking up to them.

"Reports are showing that there were only mild injuries, no fatalities," JARVIS' voice spoke from Tony's suit.

Percy felt some worry leave him at that reassurance, but the peace only lasted so long. He saw that every one of the Avengers were looking to the teenagers for an explanation, and now they had permission to give it.

The son of Poseidon heaved a great sigh, rubbing his gut again, "I think it's time you knew the truth. The full truth this time."

Ω ♆ Ω

Let me know what you think! I'm sorry for my wonky updating schedule...

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