#I spend my entire life either at work or in my tiny apartment

[fishing-lesbian-catgirl]

I’m just tired ok

[avis-writeshq]

heyyy omg I love your writings so much! congrats on your latest milestone, it's DESERVED 👏 can I pls request track one with spencer reid where he gets an epiphany and decides that he wants to propose to his girlfriend? just superrrr cute and fluffy 😍 thanks a lot!!

glue song – spencer reid

summary: “but you’re here, and so i love you.” in which spencer realises that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you. pairing: s5!spencer reid x fem!reader genre: established relationship, fluff warnings: spencer in a knee brace (tell me why that’s attractive. why does he look good at his worst. face card never declines), he’s genuinely obsessed with you, not proof read oops a/n: thank you so much anon !!!! i’m so sorry it took so long to post; i kept changing and editing it hahaha i hope you enjoy it !! wc: 1.05k

“Careful watch your– no, pivot a little, pivot–” 

“I am pivoting! There’s nowhere to pivot to! Why is it so messy?”

You suppress a grimace as you manage to somehow squeeze your way through Spencer’s tiny doorway and into his apartment, the shoe rack on the side dangerously close to his damaged knee. You stumble a little as Spencer grips your shoulders tightly for support, his other hand holding onto a crutch. 

“Maybe we should move into a bigger apartment,” you muse, helping him to the couch. Your gaze shifts to his injured knee, your face falling. “Does it hurt?”

“Only when I think about it. Which is pretty much all the time,” Spencer says, wincing as he finally collapses against the cool leather cushions. “Thank you for doing this.”

You look almost offended at his words as you brush his hair out of his face and into a makeshift ponytail. “Did you think that I wouldn’t?”

He hums as he feels the way your fingers pull lightly at his hair, your nails scraping against his scalp. “Thought you’d get tired of me. After, you know, everything.”

“None of that was your fault,” you remind him swiftly. “This–” you gesture to his knee– “isn’t either.”

He softens, leaning his cheek on your shoulder. You’ve been there for him through everything and he knows what specifically it is you’re referring to. He could see it from the moment his doctors informed you that he wouldn’t take the vicodin they had prescribed to him to soothe his discomfort. His thought process makes sense; he didn’t want to risk it. Regardless, he was left with a growing pain in his leg that didn’t shake even after taking toradol. 

“I’d never get tired of you,” you clarify, squeezing his hands. “You’re too pretty to get tired of.”

He lets out a proper laugh as he squeezes back. “You’re funny.”

“I’m being serious!”

He laughs again, shaking his head adamantly. “Liar.”

“When have I ever lied to you?”

Spencer beams in your direction, pressing kisses against the soft of your jaw. “You’re right.”

A triumphant smile spreads across your face at his words. “Exactly.”

*** 

From his spot on the couch, Spencer watches guiltily as you hustle and bustle about in the kitchen, grabbing plates and filling them to the brim with the food you ordered from the Chinese place he loves. He feels bad seeing you work so hard looking after him; especially when you have your own workload to take care of. He doesn’t even notice that you’ve already placed his portion of food in front of him until you whack him lightly on his head with some napkins. 

“Stop it. I know what you’re thinking.” You shoot him a half-hearted glare as you snap open your chopsticks. “I want to do this. I truly don’t mind.”

“You’re already doing so much,” he insists, “I’m okay, angel, I swear.”

You are not easily convinced and you point to the list of things the doctor suggested you to do in order to ensure Spencer’s speedy recovery. “I have a responsibility, Walter. What will your team do without you?”

“They’ll live,” he assures, reaching a hand out to massage the muscles by your shoulders. “I think you’ve seen me naked more the past two weeks than you have our entire relationship.”

“Well it’s not my fault that you need to bathe,” you argue, stabbing at your noodles. “You love it really.”

His cheeks burn with embarrassment at the accusation. “I do not! It’s humiliating.”

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” you soothe, smiling at him. “Besides, it’ll only be like this for a little while longer.”

“If you consider five months to be ‘a little while longer’,” he quips as he shovels food into his mouth.

You let out a laugh, not finding offence is his sarcastic blow. He thinks you’re a blessing and he figures that you definitely are. Who else can deal with the problems of him being, well, him aside from you? Spencer doesn’t know what he would do without you. How could he when you manage to push all the darkness and negativity away?

“I’m lucky to have you,” he says finally, his gaze on your face. “You’re so good to me.”

You hum in response, wiping your mouth and curling into his good side, draping an arm over his middle. “That’s true. You’re good to me, too.”

He brings his hand over your waist and kisses the side of your face in an act of reciprocation. “You’re beautiful.”

Heat crawls up your neck to your ears at the sudden compliment and you can’t help the silly bashful smile that pulls at your lips. Your mouth opens and closes, deciding on what to respond with before you settle with a simple, “Thank you.”

It’s the honest truth. There’s a look about you that tells him that you don’t believe it, but he doesn’t say anything more to try and convince you. He tells it to you everyday; he’s sure that you’ll end up accepting the compliments more readily. Your being beautiful might have been what had drawn him to you in the first place. Although he isn’t entirely sure. He recalls a certain folktale about invisible stings and how it was tying him to you. There’s something pretty about that thought, the mere idea that you were made for him and he was lucky enough to actually hold you in his arms. 

You’ve turned the television on now, a romance movie playing on the screen with familiar actors. It’s supposed to be a comedy, at least that was what the description on the DVD said, about the main male lead reminiscing about his year that he spent with some manic pixie dream girl. Spencer doesn’t understand how that could be comedic but you seem to enjoy it. 

Spencer has tuned out the movie now, finding entertainment in the reactions you have. Your face morphs into different emotions with each dramatic scene and in that moment Spencer realises one very important thing. 

“I’m gonna marry you one day,” he whispers, his breath tickling the shell of your ear. 

“What was that?” you ask obliviously and you lift your eyes to look up at him. 

“Nothing,” he dismisses, pressing his lips to your forehead. “Just keep watching the movie, angel.”

reblogs are always appreciated!

events page

[secretmellowblog]

Hijo for the characterask game

Javert and #8

(A little late but for this ask game!!! Thank you again!)

#8: a thing the fandom does with this character that you despise!

Despise is a strong word! I'll say "confuses me" instead. I talked a little bit about it in my post about fandom Valjean things I dislike-- with the caveat that I don't think any of this is really a big deal, because this small huddle of fandom stuff is a very tiny niche that doesn't have a wide impact, and also it's very normal/natural for people's opinions on characters to change over time, and I know that my *own* opinions have changed over time-- but---

I am confused by all the pro-police stuff in the Javert fandom? XD

I think the main thing that confuses me is why Post-Seine stuff where Javert is "redeemed" usually has Javert returning to his job.

It just makes more sense, thematically and on a character level, for him to resign? The common idea that "redeemed Javert" would go back to arresting people and that this would be a Good Thing always throws me off. Because 'the entire criminal justice system is fundamentally broken, there is a gulf on high, it is immoral to do this' was his whole dramatic realization and all. Plus, even putting aside the anti-police politics of the book, being a cop was clearly not good for Javert's mental health. XD It was making him feel very bad!

I remember once reading a mildly popular fic where a post-seine Javert talks about how he thinks the prison system is fundamentally broken and violent and unjust, and he can never return to his job. And I was like "Wow, this author gets it!" Then I kept reading and it turns out Javert was supposed to be *wrong* in that paragraph, that paragraph was supposed to represent an incorrect pessimistic wrong way of thinking, and the fic was about Javert regaining his faith in the police. It's just very funky! Kinda just like, realizing people view this story in such a radically different way you can't ever vibe with their versions of the characters. People sometimes walk back everything Javert realizes in Derailed as if they're mistakes, instead of positive character development, which feels odd to me. People act as if Jean Valjean is the rare exception to the general rule that Prison Is Awesome And Cool, and that Javert just needs to realize he was wrong about Jean Valjean specifically and nothing else.

I think people often miss that the police are the villains of Javert's story, in the way they're the villains of Jean Valjean's. His family was ripped apart by the criminal justice system before he was even born, he was born in a cage like an animal, and he became an agent of the system that destroyed his childhood because he internalized that institutional abuse as something that he and his family must have deserved. "Is a system that leads to children being born in jails in desperate poverty actually just?" "well of course it is. the baby is a crime baby made of crime. >:("

He's spent his whole life either living in prison or serving as an agent of the prison system; he has no framework for what living outside of serving the carceral system actually looks like. My take is, that poor horrible creature has had enough policework for several lifetimes. If there is a way to be a "good cop," he would've found it by now. Let him rest. Let him find some funky new job.

Also, one or two people have implied in the distant past that I must hate Valvert, but from a Valvert perspective-- I think it's easier to have post-seine Valvert if Javert quits his job. First, it's a dramatic shift in their dynamic and the power level between them; it's a clear sign that Javert has permanently changed. Second: Javert searching for a new job after spending his entire life serving the prison system is just rife for bonding hijinks. You could easily write a scenario where Jean Valjean helps pull strings to find him work as a gardener for Petit-Picpus, but has to help train him for the position or something along those lines, giving them an excuse to interact. Third: I don't think Javert needs to be a cop to be nosy. If you want to write a "casefic"-ish mystery plotline he could be an Angela Lansbury Murder-She-Wrote old lady retiree character solving a mystery out of pure nosiness, without even arresting anyone. Because it would be very funny.

...This has just turned into a ramble about possible Post-Seine hijinks. Anyway the moral is: there isn't really a moral, this is just my petty fandom opinions. But "Javert fics where police are bad" and "Javert fics where police are flawed but ultimately good" are two completely different genres, is my take.

[jungwonseyebrowsonflick]

FUN BIRTHDAY: LEE HEESEUNG

Heeseung Shot

Happy birthday to my beautiful and handsome and talented man, LEE HEESEUNG 💕✨🎊🍰

As the idol he is it was hard for him to spend time with his family and that includes his birthday as well. What he could do was to call them or them call him. " Thank you, mom," he grins sitting down on the couch of the living room. "Yeah I'll celebrate with the members and...," a tint of blush appeared on his cheeks. " my girlfriend YN," he chuckled as he rest his back against the couch and look up at the ceiling.

"Yeah mom, one day I'll bring her to you and the others, just give me time." He said licking his bottom lip which he does often because it became a habit of his. "Yes I am still happy with her, mom stop acting jealous!" Heeseung laughed out loud. " well I gotta go it is time for me to go to the restaurant, bye mom!" He immediately ended the call before his mom would say "I love you son" and he did not want to reply to that.

Finally, Heeseung was in a near restaurant with his members eating delicious meat, ramen of all kinds, and of course Coca-Cola soda. Everyone hit their soda bottle with each other to cheer as a joke. After the great food, it was the cake's turn, and the time to sing to Heeseung. Although Heeseung looks happy with his friends, inside he feels sad because you haven't seen him all day, and you haven't called nor texted him at all. He even send you messages but none of them were not even read. He went to your apartment and you weren't there either. So he felt worried the entire day and had horrible thoughts. Either way, he wasn't letting any of that affect his small party with his closest friends. "Where are you YN," he thought inside him. " HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE BEST BROoOo" Jay shouted his voice cracking up at the end and the rest laughed at it.

.

.

.

After Heeseung called you again you didn't answer. A minute passed and now it was you who was calling him. Heeseung immediately answers. "YN! Where are you? You had me so worried all day! You think this is funny?" He talks loudly clutching onto the phone. " I'm sorry but I've been preparing you an amazing surprise! I hope all the work I did today would be worth it. Where are you? I'll pick you up..."

.

.

.

" lotte world?" He asks as he looks at the colorful giant castle.

" mm, yes! You're gonna have the ride of your life baby!" You kissed his lips and run towards the place holding his hand. Both of you with happy smiles on your faces enjoyed every game and ride together. Both of them felt the adrenaline rush inside their bodies as their hearts released so much happiness exploding through their veins. "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Both of you screamed on the fast ride. "We're going to die!!!" You screamed.

After that ride both of you got out feeling defeated from it. " hey babe, there's another surprise I made for you....follow me..." you grab his hand pulling him to you. You two got away from the lotte world and walk towards an area with grass, a lake on the side, and a table in the middle, tiny lights hanging up on the trees almost forming an invisible tent above the table. The table had tasty food on top. "Happy Birthday my love~" you hugged him tightly against you. " I had to make this day special for us because it is the first time I celebrate your birthday with you. So that's why I let you have some alone time for yourself and spend time with your friends. That's why I did not bother you at all...sorry if I made you so worried..." you reach to peck his lips.

" That's alright love, thank you for everything, I won't forget this night at all, only if I could see my family here I would be even happier than I already am," he said holding you in his embrace. "Really?" You smirked. "Mrs. and Mr. Lee! Come out of the car!" You shouted in your opposite direction. " your brother is in the states so he couldn't come" you grinned at him. " LN YN I LOVE YOU" He grab your face and forced a hot passionate kiss before his parents could see you two. He pulls away. " you'll be rewarded tonight," he wiggles his eyebrows at you. "MOOOOM! DAAAAD!" He shouted running towards them. You grinned and laughed as you felt so happy but quickly turn back to act normal as you see your mother and father-in-law.

[tortoisebore]

OKAY SO FOR MY RAMBLE REQUEST i wanna know the losers’ love language

YES YES YES

this one got SO long & sappy im so so sorry gfjgnfjkgnjfkn

first i think growing up in a situation of neglect and abuse would have made it difficult for sirius to understand what it meant to intentionally give and receive love, and he'd genuinely have no idea what to do with overly affectionate people (like james!!!) for a long time. but once he got out of that home situation and had some time to process and start heal from it, i think he'd be extremely affectionate with the people he loves.

physical touch would be the biggest one--once he was able to understand that touch could be something gentle and precious, it became the easiest way to show people that he loved them. he was hesitant with it for a while because he was afraid that other people might be uncomfortable with it like he had been, but that turned into him having a super sharp eye when it came to understanding peoples' comfort levels with different kinds of affection without them needing to say it.

so by the time he & remus get together he understands himself a lot better in that regard. if you would have asked before, he would have said his only real love language was physical touch because it was his first instinct & what he had experience with, but he didn't really need things like gifts or acts of service to feel loved. like, he got quite enough of that growing up between all the extravagant birthday gifts he never wanted and the home staff waiting on him hand and foot his whole childhood & thinks he could probably go his entire life without experiencing either of those things ever again.

but then he starts seeing remus and everything turns upside down. on their third date remus brings him a tiny green glass bird trinket that he'd found at the thrift store they stopped by during their second date. sirius hadn't bought it then, but remus went back and got it the next day just because he said he'd liked it. so sirius gets home from their third date and puts it on his windowsill and stares at it for like.....fifteen entire minutes and decides it's his most cherished possession and if he could save one single thing from his entire room in a fire, it would be the bird. and then he gives remus a key to his apartment the week after that in retaliation because fuck it he's literally in love with that stupid sweet idiot & it was either that or ask him to fucking move in on their fourth date

and then it's their six month anniversary and remus is coming over for dinner and sirius is gonna whip up a nice little fancy pasta situation, but he gets held up because some moron decided to knock over an entire shelf of CDs on the back wall of the music store where he's been working the last couple of months. so he calls remus on the verge of tears & tells him he's going to be really late and maybe they should reschedule and he's so so so sorry, and remus is nice about it because he's always nice but sirius feels like absolute shit because he'd made all these plans and now he has to spend two fucking hours putting the shelf back together and reorganizing the CDs.

so he trudges home in a mood and he's so so sad and it's been the literal worst day ever, but then he gets home and remus is already there. he's lit candles and cleaned the kitchen and set the table, and he's done a really good job at attempting the fancy pasta situation sirius had planned even though he's a shit cook, and sirius' favorite cheap wine from the grocery store is on the counter next to a pretty little bouquet of flowers. and remus goes 'happy six month anniversary!!' and he's so fucking sweet that sirius just....,,.bursts into tears in the doorway. and remus is like "uhh!!! 😧 i'm sorry!! hey wait hold on I'm sorry!! are you okay!!" and sirius literally wants to tackle him to the ground because !!!! no one has ever worked this hard to make him happy !!!! no one has gone out of their way like this just because they loved him !!!! and that's a really fucking emotional discovery to make when he's just spent two hours alphabetizing five hundred CDs.

physical touch is still his number one love language because it's comforting and calming and he likes feeling desired, but the times that remus picks up his favorite chocolate on the way home just because he wanted to or does all the laundry on the weekends sirius has a hard time at work are just as meaningful as the times that remus hugs him from behind while he makes their coffee in the morning or walks with a hand in his back pocket when they're out together. he's not picky about the way that remus loves him, but sirius knows he tries really hard to do it in the most meaningful ways and that alone is enough to make him feel more secure and more cherished than he's ever felt with anyone else.

now switching gears, remus is an introvert. like, imagine the biggest introvert you've ever met and then multiply that by a hundred. he has an ongoing problem with tuning out in the middle of conversations because his social filter hit E out of nowhere, or staying holed up at home for three days trying to get energy back after a night out. his time and energy are rare and fleeting gifts, so quality time has always been the biggest way he shows people he loves them. but he's never desired someone else's time until sirius.

sirius is energetic and bright and and magnetic and he doesn't even have to do anything special to have entire rooms of people gravitating towards him. he could do anything he wanted, talk with anyone he wanted, be anywhere he wanted, but the fact that he chooses to give his time and attention to remus means more than any words or gifts or acts of service ever could.

he's really fucking surprised that sirius even agrees to go out with him in the first place, and even more surprised that he's completely present and engrossed in every moment when they are out together. he doesn't get distracted with his phone, doesn't stop and make conversation with every person that waves at him when they're at his regular coffee shop, doesn't try to fill every silence with thoughts or words that don't matter. he's entirely content to just be together, which is more than remus could have ever hoped to find in another person.

so one evening in the summer they're at remus' place watching reruns of a show they'd already finished, and remus is thinking he's never been happier in his life than he is in that moment--just sitting together quietly, sirius tucked into his side with his head on his shoulder, tracing little patterns onto his palm and giving a little laugh at the tv every once in a while. and then sirius' phone rings on the other side of the couch and he answers it on speakerphone, and it's marlene saying she got him a last minute ticket to that concert in the park downtown they'd been trying to get into for weeks. sirius perks up and remus deflates--of course sirius is going to go, and he absolutely should, he's been talking about this concert all summer, remus is just sad he'll have to leave--but then sirius goes 'ugh i'm sorry, i had something come up and i can't go tonight, you should take dorcas!!!' and he hangs up and just settles back in and remus is like '....hello?? why aren't you going??' and sirius just shrugs and squeezes him a little tighter and goes 'i'd rather be here with you' and remus loves him so so so bad he thinks he might explode with it

and sirius is also really, really good at knowing when remus needs A Moment. he's always been able to read remus like a book, even back when things were new, like he has some kind of sixth sense that lets him know when remus is Done and needs to go home and recharge. recharging also sometimes means being alone, and after a very brief period of misunderstanding in their early days, sirius gets it, and he understands like no one else ever has and gives remus that precious space when he needs it. remus knows that's difficult for him some days, so he works really, really hard to pay attention and make sure he's doing everything he can to let sirius know how much he loves him, even when he needs to be alone sometimes. if that means leaving work early to meet him for the walk home or getting up at the crack of dawn on mondays to grab coffees before sirius wakes up then so fucking be it, he'll go out of his way every single day for the rest of his life if it means sirius feels even half of remus' love for him

he also never would have thought physical touch would become so important to him until sirius. remus wasn't ever one to reach out first, and sirius had always been touchy--casual their first few dates and then leaning further into it; holding remus' hand as they walked from his work to the coffee place down the street, playing with his hair absently while they watched a movie or before falling asleep, trailing an delicate hand up his shirt in public and blinking at him innocently when remus sent him a warning look, giving a sweet little 'i have no idea what you're talking about' while dragging his nails down remus' spine, all evil and smug about it, pushing his buttons expertly until remus pulls him from the room & tugs him in the direction of home. but remus loves those moments now, cherishes them just like he cherishes everything else, and feels more wanted than he ever has before

sirius taught him a lot about how to love other people, how to study and learn them well enough to understand what they need, and ask for help when he got it wrong. he learned a lot about self-worth, about feeling deserving of the abundance of love that had suddenly crash-landed into his life, how to sit with it and accept it and give it in return, just because he wants to

[lovesick-jester-from-hell]

How about ☔️ ? As for the f/o, I leave the choice entirely to you :3

☔ — f/o and s/i got caught in the rain... write about how they handle it! did either of them bring an umbrella?

I’ve had some serious Mandy brainrot today, so I went with her for this! Also the snippet got away from me schwoopsieeeeeee lmao. No real content warnings here aside from a couple suggestive lines. For the most part it’s just cutesy fluffy stuff!! :3

I tapped a fingernail against the glass, breath leaving a puff of condensation from just how damn cold it was outside. “I don’t think this is gonna let up anytime soon,” I admitted. We’d already waited at the diner for a half hour longer than we’d intended. The rain had only gotten more intense, pounding against the window as if determined to force its way inside.

Amanda made a noncommittal sound of agreement. She looked tiny on the other side of the table, as if the faded red vinyl of the booth was going to swallow her up. But she looked at ease with that idea. At ease just sitting here, drinking endless amounts of coffee and talking about nothing. Talking about everything. As if the world didn’t exist outside the preciously unremarkable 24 hour diner.

As much as I wanted to wring Jigsaw’s neck for what he’d done to me – to us – I had to admit. I did appreciate the little things so much more now.

“We can’t just stay here all night.”

“Why not?” Mandy asked, propping a fist against her cheek and fixing me with a wide-eyed, almost pleading look. But she had on a soft smile. Fuck, I wished I could capture the image of her smile in my brain forever.

“You can’t expect me to sleep in these booths. Who knows the last time they got cleaned with more than a wet cloth.” I said it jokingly, but the idea of passing out here did have me repressing a shudder. It’s not like a Jigsaw trap could solve my goddamn germaphobia.

She glanced out the window and sighed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

She sounded so reluctant, it took everything in me not to capture her hands and say, If I could spend the rest of my goddamn life with you trapped in a mediocre diner just to see you smile and laugh and never worry again, I would. I wish I could. I want to. But that wasn’t the reality we lived in, the reality of long work days and paying rent and the hell of our own minds and the quiet nights with too few hours.

I shrugged with an apologetic smile. “There’s always tomorrow.”

Amanda met my gaze. “Yeah,” she said softly. “There’s always tomorrow.”

Because there had to be. For us, there had to be a tomorrow. We'd fought and maimed and killed to live to see that tomorrow.

We split the bill, Amanda tipping back the last bitter dregs of her coffee and me tipping back the last heart-destroyingly sweet dregs of mine, then threw on our coats and huddled by the door. Neither of our coats were waterproof. Neither of us had brought an umbrella; neither of us even owned an umbrella. The fucking forecast had said it wasn’t going to rain till past midnight, but the fucking forecast had been wrong.

“On three,” Amanda whispered.

“This is gonna suck,” I whispered back. “It’s gonna be cold as fuck.”

“I can warm you up afterwards.” Amanda gave me a pointed look. I couldn’t help the stupidass snort that escaped me. “Okay. One…. Two…..”

“This is gonna suck so bad.”

“….Three!”

She shoved the door open and bolted. I was right behind her. The coats did absolutely fuckall. I was soaked and shivering in seconds, teeth chattering so hard I could practically feel my skull vibrating. I was right. This sucked ass. But at least there weren’t that many other people out because of it. We raced down the sidewalk, barreling through the puddles in our wake and not stopping once, because if either of us stopped it would be even worse starting again.

It felt like it took fucking forever to get back to my tiny apartment, and I was trembling so hard it fucking hurt, but we made it. I yanked off my boots, peeled off my drenched socks, and hurled my equally-soaked coat onto one of the kitchen chairs. “Holy FUCK it’s cold.”

Amanda was on me in an instant. She was soaked too, her coat shed alongside mine and her hair plastered to the sides of her face. She looked like she’d been thrown into a washing machine. But she was standing on her tiptoes and had her arms thrown around my neck and was pressing kisses to my face and I couldn't ignore the sheer delight that made me feel.

“I said I’d warm you up,” she said slyly.

….She did say that, didn’t she? Well, who the hell was I to say no to that offer?

[robbiefischer]

i p r o m i s e i will send you more of these tomorrow after i have slept but for now... what about 📚 🚫 💘 🎂 for my boys alexei and elijah????

Aaaaaah tysm for sending me this for my boys (and for all of your lovely asks) ily! I welcome anything else you want to send me about anyone.

📚 BOOKS — what level of education has your oc most recently completed/is currently in (GED, undergraduate, grad school, phd, etc)?

Alexei got his bachelor's degree in English Lit, then completed a teaching credential program. A couple of years after he started teaching, he went back to school to get his M.Ed because he's crazy like that. That's the last thing he's done although in the future he's going to do an MFA in creative writing. He enjoys being a student. Yeah, I don't know where he gets it either.

Elijah got through undergrad and got his bachelor's degree. He wasn't especially interested in going to college (he'd managed to build his streaming stuff up really well throughout high school, and was signed to a pro esports team), but his parents insisted and he wanted to shut them up. He majored in art partly because he's actually really interested in it and it would make the four years tolerable, and partly because he knew it would drive his parents up the wall (they really wanted him to major in something more serious and "grownup", and kept trying to push him into premed like his sister) and make his father's forehead vein pop.

🚫 PROHIBITED — does your oc drink/smoke? do they do it regularly, or is it more on occasion or for special events?

Neither of them are big drinkers. Elijah may have the very occasional hard seltzer if he's doing a fun, chill stream, or something if they're out on a fancy date night but he's just not a big fan of it overall. Alexei's pretty similar - might have a cocktail if they're out on a date or if he goes to a happy hour with his co-workers. If he does have a drink, he likes his sweet, fruity and preferably with a tiny umbrella.

Neither smoke, but they both enjoy edibles on occasion. It's usually a weekend thing - Elijah will make them some fancy snacks, they'll both have a gummy and spend the day catching up on a favorite show or watching movies together and just hanging out. Sometimes they'll go out for a walk in the park near their apartment and commune with nature, do a little people-watching, grab lunch together and chill.

💘 HEART WITH ARROW — what and/or who do(es) your oc consider the most important to them?

Elijah's absolute favorite people in the entire world are Alexei, and his older sister, Lucy. He's also ride-or-die for all of his teammates (Jude, Apollo, Omar, Flora, Nico and Noelle) and his boss, Rosa, who's basically a second mom to him (he's been working at her coffee shop since he was about 15 and she adores him).

Alexei is very family-oriented and, next to Elijah, his moms, younger brother and older sister are the most important people in his life. After that, it's Chase and Reiko. Chase is a teacher at the same school, and they've become incredibly close friends. He took a few of Reiko's classes in undergrad (and is going to take more with her when he goes back to get his MFA), she really took him under her wing and mentored him as a writer and they've developed such a close friendship.

🎂 BIRTHDAY CAKE — when is your oc's birthday? how old are they? what are their sun, moon, & rising signs (if known)? what about their tarot card, ruling planet, & ruling number (if known)? do they fit the typical traits of these sun, moon, & rising signs?

Alexei's 29 years old, and his birthday is on July 19th. He a Cancer sun, Libra moon with a Virgo ascendant. He embodies his big three traits pretty well. He's very family and relationship-oriented, is nurturing and compassionate, hates conflict and is a natural peacekeeper. He tends to be really well-liked no matter who he's around - he's just got fantastic, soothing energy and tends to be very diplomatic so he can get along with almost anyone. He's hyper-organized, especially at work. He's absolutely that teacher that has weeks of sub plans stashed away if he needs them, and they're all incredibly detailed. He can be a bit fussy sometimes, and a little indecisive when he's stressed. He can definitely be prone to having some very Cancerian big feelings, but the Libra moon tamps those down a bit and mostly keeps them on the inside.

Elijah's 26 years old, and his birthday is on November 18th. He's a Scorpio sun, Leo moon with a Gemini ascendant and he's classic. Think all of the Scorpio intensity and emotional depth, with the charisma, creativity, desire for recognition and self-confidence of a Leo. Throw in a twist of restlessness, curiosity, adaptability and such a way with words and you've got Elijah. Those traits can definitely clash a bit sometimes, and he has to keep himself from flitting from one thing to the next rather than being focused on one big goal, but he usually manages to strike a good balance and make it all work together cohesively.

[rust-bearer]

Hmmm… I come bearing brain gifts.

As someone who has spent a good portion of my life living with 10+ family members in an average sized house on and off (not enough room, never enough room), I’m curious how things would work for our resident apocalypse survivors. From my experience, at least, children typically aren’t as affected? At certain ages, at least, and it depends on the personality, of course. Anyway:

• This feels like a good layout, so… I’m assuming the kids probably spend most of their time together as a whole. The oldest takes care of them, the younger ones probably get that I’m a big brother/sister/sibling now mindset and “Take Care” of the youngest (super serious about it, too. First Aid probably thinks it’s adorable while also being mildly terrified for them). They watch out for each other, etc etc.

• I’m just gonna go ahead and assume that the Combaticons are always, always either together or invading each other’s space. Whether it’s sneaking into the kitchen at midnight while everyone else sleeps and accidentally waking the entire fucking house with what sounds like the most dramatic home invasion ever, baking huge breakfast spreads on the “weekends” (who even knows what day it is anymore, someone keeps count as the weeks go by and properly designates certain days as Weekend Days) and ultimately ending with a very tasty feast but very, very messy kitchen, standing around in the only bathroom for an hour after getting into excited talks and debates while someone stands outside pounding on the door because they actually need in there, goddamnit, and just…

• I dunno, I would guess the Combaticons are just generally seen as this family unit that wouldn’t hesitate to murder an entire store full of the undead but also like to cuddle up on their huge couch for VHS tape nights and premade popcorn that expired about six months ago.

• I could be alone in my assessment, but I see First Aid as a sort of loner, but not in that “mysterious and edgy” way, just kind of an anxious person naturally who needs lots of downtime to process things. He probably spends lots of time wandering the farm, keeping an eye on the kids (who are almost always playing outside, weather permitting) and checking up on the farm equipment, the dog, Butcher Meat Cow, other survivors… he worries about everyone, and he worries about the future, and he worries about the present, and—well, his mind races constantly. He needs some downtime, some alone time, just time away from interacting and socializing to just decompress. It’s tough sometimes, seeing the Combaticon family, the kids, the fellow survivors, and knowing that his family, his brothers, are probably still out there, either barely making it by or lurching about the world with rotting flesh and an insatiable desire for humans.

• Sleeping arrangements again: I’m guessing the children probably sleep very close together, not like dog piles or anything, but back to back, rows of tiny little bodies tucked inside shredded sleeping bags and stacked blankets/pillows.

• When it comes to sleeping, I can imagine the Combaticons probably just nap throughout the day. There isn’t really a “bed” or specific time frame. If they’re tired, they’ll sleep. This helps a lot for safety and protection of the home, since there’s less than a 1% chance all five of them will be asleep at the same time.

• First Aid probably sleeps in the same room as the children, to be honest. He doesn’t like to be apart from them; not in the beginning, at least. At the same time, it helps him keep an eye on everyone, he can make sure they’re safe, he can make sure no one’s sick, and if they wake up from a bad dream, he’s right there.

• Final thoughts for this: some people are morning people, some people are night owls… with so few grown adults, it isn’t that big of a deal. First Aid isn’t much of a morning or night person anymore, to be honest. The overall lack of sleep has left him chronically exhausted, drained from constant anxiety and the stress of their current situation. I’d say it differs for the Combaticons, though. Maybe half are early risers, the other half night owls. Either way, they’re kind of… loud. In such a small house (how did they end up with such a small house?? Didn’t Swindle spend, like, a shit-ton on the place?), noise travels very well. During the night, First Aid is usually kept up by talking and laughing that filters up through the vents from the floor beneath him. In the morning, the sound of slamming pots and pans and drawers being repeatedly open and closed is constant, and doesn’t usually stop. It only gets worse as more people wake up for the day. On his next supply run, he’s gonna have to find some noise canceling headphones or something. The kids seem unaffected, at least, which… well, it’s a blessing.

I think that’s all for the moment. If you have any other ideas for what you think it’d be like to share such a small space with so many people, I’d love to hear them!

Distinct childhood memories of my young nephew waking up super early to watch television, but he kept the volume up extremely high, so everyone would wake up telling him to turn it down (he would not). Imagining that but with deciding to make breakfast or shouting matches or etc

It’s a zombie cliche but I imagine first aid would stand the best shot at finding a cure for the zombie infection, based off of him in canon- or it could be the opposite, I’d have to think about it. Either way, giving him a reason to go on scavenging runs to hospitals and libraries and labs. (BARING pharma of course but. Is he even alive in this version? Who knows! Could be)

On the topic of water: they likely have lots of houseplants. Someone in first aid’s original safehouse had them, and the kids took them with them, and they don’t even need clean water so it’s incredibly easy to tend to them. Gives someone a hobby too

[thistransient]

While I was away, my friend who's down south for a month left his fan for me to borrow. Previously I had either been using my aircon extremely sparingly (only when over 30C at night) or laying on the floor sweating like god intended. The fan's arrival, however, immediately initiated an unprecedented new era of slothfulness. Where at least before there was some motive to go in search of cooler climes (the library, the park at night), now it was entirely realistic to hang out at home, sprawled in front of the device forever. The evils of technology made manifest!

Or so I thought. After a week of this, my paranoia over the one (1) query from the immigration officer was festering, and I was growing cognisant of the fact that I didn't actually want to live out my days in a tiny dark apartment, prostrated at the altar of the artificial breeze. (Or it could also be that I simply don't want to spend the rest of my life in a subtropical heat wave...) I was getting real moody about my prospects, or lack thereof. Today I decided to finally have a go at actually finishing the preliminary test for an editing company whose listing I've come across a couple times (and usually quit halfway through because imagining reading this sort of stuff for 8 hours a day seemed guaranteed to drive me batty). But recently my bff who used to have me proofread his undergrad papers started using ChatGPT to write them, leaving me bereft of grammatical errors to savage (and also the dinners he would trade for my diligent efforts).

So I almost immediately received an email prompting me to move to the next stage, HOWEVER for visa sponsorship apparently the gov't requires either a graduate degree OR a bachelors + 2 years of relevant work experience. No teaching. If blogging and editing for friends counted as experience, I would be golden. Or rather, if I could establish a paper trail for said experience...

[finiffy]

Aftermath

GOC had just gotten home from a particularly tiring day of work. It was a long drive back, so when he arrived it was already past midnight. He looked up at the twinkling lights above him in the clear night sky as he locked his black Nissan Altima.

He smiled tiredly for a second, muttering something, and walked down the walkway to the front door. When he unlocked the door and stepped inside, he didn't bother to turn on the lights.

GOC shuffled through the comfortable darkness of his home, the calming and familiar hallway. The walls had chipping paint on the edges of them and in the corner were little lines that faded over time, each labeled 'Site 1, age 5' or 'Site 1, age 12' and so on. He moved through the messy home, he sat on an old sofa creaking and just as musty as the rest of the house.

Site 1 had moved out so recently, when SCP took him in the divorce. With his family in shambles he'd been depressed for months, but tonight he felt a serene calm wash over him, all the arguments about the divorce were finally over. He was left a shell of a man, but he was finally free of a loveless marriage.

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

GOC sat down at the sofa in the living room, pondering. Not having a kid was a series of complicated emotions. First, came the depression of losing a child, the concept and guilt feeling that one failed as a parent, or that you have surrendered a child who you were supposed to protect- into a world out of your control. After the first few weeks of this loss... of the misery and heart ache, came the second wave of realization. 

After the first few weeks came the second realization that living without a child was something new. It was the realization that when you live with a kid, it either takes away or adds a new part of your life that is entirely restructuring.

Losing that kid, creates a new wave of change. You find yourself not making meals every morning for a small human, you find yourself not having to tie tiny shoelaces and at the same time you don't have to change dirty diapers or worry about having your sleep interrupted by the small gruntled noises of a sick kid. 

After a period of time, you begin to gain mixed feelings about the loss. you begin to question if you are a terrible parent for feeling this way. You are relieved that you can relax more and sleep more. you can indulge in candy and other tempting food without a child peeking around the corner, waiting to hear the crinkle of a bag to come running to hold out their little hands going "Can I have a piece?" and yet, you miss those little hands. You miss those little patters from when they get excited, from when they were happy. 

Parents spend the first two years of their life begging their kid to walk, and talk. And yet, after that they spend 16 more wanting their kid to sit down and shut up. It was almost ironic. There were so many people out there who had a child and would neglect their later tendencies in life. Parents talk about "When the kid is 11, they are ready for independence" Or "when a kid is 13, they no longer want affection from you" but was that the truth? 

GOC wondered if it was, but sadly enough, he might not know. Site 1 was in SCP's hands now. 

What he could hope for was that SCP took care of Site 1. That Site 1 would grow up well.

Maybe, a part of him hoped, that Site 1 would be happier with Foundation.

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

Man I don't know what to write for this. I'm not galaxy brained enough for this.

uhhhhhhhhh

fuck I don't know

this was all serious and now I come and tear it apart, no seriousness in this household........ ok fine I'll try

In one early morning, GOC awoke to hear a quiet knock at his front door and the jingle of the doorbell. GOC went to the door and opened it, only to find Site 1 standing there with a bag and looking like they had been crying. He ushered Site 1 inside, "what are you doing here? Does SCP know you're here? What happened?"

"I ran away from home, I don't like SCP. I like living with you!"

my brain can't do this 

pain

Fanfic created with #FranticFanfic.

[waltwhitmansbeard]

heyooo I just started writing fan fic and I really have no idea what I'm doing haha, can you explain how you draft and edit and write you long fics? i don't know what to do besides just starting at the beginning and writing to the end. (also sending this to multiple writiers so I can get lots of opinions)

hey! first of all, i wanna say i'm flattered that you ask, although i can claim no sense of credibility in the realm of writing anything, fanfic or otherwise. i'm just some guy, like everyone else on here, and i'm just doing my best with what i've got.

i don't believe that every writer will approach a longfic the same way, and i don't think a writer will approach each of their longfics in the same way, either. i know that the fic i'm hoping to write when gocmh is done is going to have a different process than mfl/gocmh did, because the stories are different and the needs are different. i can tell you how i approached mfl, and maybe you'll find that helpful, but if you don't, that's okay. your fic isn't gonna be mfl, it's gonna be yours, and ultimately you're the only one who is going to be able to figure out how to write it.

i'm gonna skip past all the general writing advice, which is read a lot and spend almost your entire childhood and adolescence meticulously picking apart all the stories you love to figure out how they work like they're clocks make of gears and springs. when it came to mfl, i wrote the first 5-8 chapters on pure vibes. every chapter's contents were just as big a mystery to me at the outset of writing them as they were to the readers when they sat down to read them. i was only ever thinking about the next step, the next sentence, the next tiny jump in the story. i was not thinking about where we'd end up, bc as far as i was concerned, that wasn't my business. my business was what happens next.

and in the process of writing that way, i was basically just improvising. it's a cliché, i know, but the first rule of improv is to yes, and, and i yes anded myself over and over and over. if i typed that the world of mfl was like x, then it was like x, and i had to just fucking deal with that. so much of early mfl (and truly all of that world) is just me making up rules and facts that later me would have to treat as sacred. is this the most efficient way to write? idk, and idc, either. this was the most fun, exciting way for me to write the story, and i don't regret it.

after a while though, my brain naturally started to stretch its legs (ew, terrible metaphor, abort, abort), and i started thinking ahead. not like terribly far ahead, but enough where i could say, "ok, if i'm at point a, and i know what point e i want to reach someday, i just gotta figure out points b through d." and sometimes that involved outlining the chapters that could get me from a to e, and sometimes i'd make it up as i went. it depended on the day and the points and what was going on in my life at the time. as i write this, i have the final ten-ish chapters of gocmh planned out, what's going to happen, who's pov it's gonna be in, etc. i actually planned out the last 15-ish chapters this way, and have written some, but even in the process of writing those chapters, shit has changed! something i thought was a good idea in the planning process didn't work out the way i'd hoped in execution, and i had to pivot. that's writing, baby.

now i know this isn't going to work for the the fic i have planned for after gocmh. i'm going to want that fic properly planned out, each chapter outlined and themes woven in carefully ahead of time, bc that's that story. i fully expect for shit to go haywire in the actual writing, of course, because in all my years of fic writing (and friends, there is so much more fic writing than y'all know about with this username), shit has never not gone haywire in the actual writing. but idk, that's the fun part. subverting your own expectations. cutting yourself off at the knees. kicking your own ass. it's fun!

i'll also talk a bit about how i wrote people and rhythm, the originals fic you can still find on my ao3 account. that fic took about six months to write, and to date i don't think i've ever had so much fun writing anything. imagine, if you will, two whiteboards, each divided vertically in half, covered in sticky notes. on each of those sticky notes is written a brief scene description, an event that Has to Happen. each of the four whiteboard halves represents an episode (that fic was organized by episodes, not chapters, bc i fancied myself an Auteur), and i would place and replace and replace those sticky notes until i had all the scenes i needed to make an episode in the order they needed to happen in. and then i would write! and bc i'd already done the organizational work to figure out the story beats, i could write the individual scenes in the order that struck my fancy, bc if i skipped a piece of the story that was important, it didn't matter. i knew where that sticky note went, and i could fill in the blank later. if this type of planning/writing appeals to you, i recommend the website/app trello, which is basically the digital version of whiteboards and sticky notes.

i wanna talk about something you said in your ask. "i don't know what to do besides just starting at the beginning and writing to the end." so, uhhhh, who says? who says you gotta start at the beginning and write to the end? start in the middle. start at the shit that makes you excited. write the scene that makes your mouth water and your hands turn into claws. write the good shit first, and then when you've got it, ask yourself, "ok, how do i earn this? i want my readers to get to here, bc it's good and juicy and so much fun, but i gotta work to get them here." start where you wanna start and work backwards from there if you must. asking "why" is so useful for this. oh, you're at point f? why did point f happen? that's point e. why did point e happen? that's point d. (then, you know, use the rest of the alphabet.) so much of life is just us reacting to shit, dealing with the onslaught of Life as best we know how, even if it fucks shit up for us in the future, so if you wanna write the reaction first, go for it! just remember that reactions stem from actions, so you gotta give us those, too.

(also, a story need not be told in order! flashbacks and the manipulation of time can be extremely fun and exciting! this is something that takes a lot of skill, though, not to say that you don't have that skill, but just be careful when doing this. you can still use the concepts of time jumps in your writing process, even if you don't present your story in a jumbled order.)

i don't know if i've said anything of value here. i can only talk about writing as i experience it, which is not, of course, how any other writer experiences it. i can't give you tips or actionable advice bc i, too, am making this shit up as i go. i write bc i like telling lil stories for my lil internet friends, and bc sometimes ppl say nice words, and i collect those nice words like a dragon hoarding its shinies in its lair. but don't write for the nice words, bc if they don't come as fast as you like or as much as you like, you'll get discouraged, and ultimately it's more important that the story be told than that it be praised.

(not to belabor the point, but there's a john green quote i love so much i have a poster of it hanging in my bedroom now, as an almost 30yo, that i've had since my college dorm room, and the quote is:

“Don’t make stuff because you want to make money — it will never make you enough money. And don’t make stuff because you want to get famous — because you will never feel famous enough. Make gifts for people — and work hard on making those gifts in the hope that those people will notice and like the gifts. Maybe they will notice how hard you worked, and maybe they won’t — and if they don’t notice, I know it’s frustrating. But, ultimately, that doesn't change anything — because your responsibility is not to the people you’re making the gift for, but to the gift itself.”

just something to keep in mind when writing. write for you, and write for the ppl you love, and write for the thing itself. the thing you create is a gift, and the gift deserves to exist for its own sake.)

so that was long! i hope it helps, and if it doesn't, sorry! i did try my best. i hope you find a method of writing that feels fun and natural and exciting to you, one that keeps you coming back for more. writing is the thing that keeps me going on days when i don't really want to keep going, and if it can become that thing for you (or hey, maybe it already is!) then i think is a gift, too.

[sometimesrosy]

Hello! How are you? I have a somewhat different/maybe difficult question. I always had a group of friends when younger, but going into university that friend group kind of fell apart as we all moved to different places, and coming back we all have ours lives and some aren’t even here. During university, and in a big city, although I got along with many people, I got used to do things by myself if I wanted to do them. I even had depression (more than one factor, but I think the lack of connections had a role here) and still forced myself to leave the house and go cry at the mall or the movies. Once I came back to my hometown, I was already dating a friend from there, and then with the work field I was in and covid, I didn’t really get to develop a relationship with anyone else. Now, at work, I have colleagues I consider friends, but we rarely get together outside of work because most already have kids and live in the surrounding towns. This, to say that, I am pretty content with my partner, who accompanies me on most of the things that I want to do, and with my mom, who goes out for a coffee with me almost everyday, for example. BUT I feel like I don’t know how to do things by myself anymore. I feel like if there’s a movie or TV show I want to watch, I want to watch and share it with my partner. If he doesn’t want to watch it at the time, I get in a limbo not knowing what to do at that time. We’re both big into computers and video games, and we share an office, but I feel like I allow myself to get stalled mentally and end up doing nothing, and if I was alone, I would have been doing something for hours. This is a small town, so it’s harder for me to get hobbies outside the house. Physical activities are group classes at 7AM or 7PM, but I work most of the weeks on that later schedule, and the 7AM class would completely ruin my sleep pattern. Then you have yoga and pilates, mostly at those hours too, because it’s a small town so people aren’t available at other hours. I can’t find a languages class that isn’t online or basically private, which has super high prices. We don’t have a book club. We don’t have a music school that isn’t private and with individual classes. Everything is either at inconvenient hours for me due to my job (not complaining, just explaining) or super expensive because it would just be me or at least one more person. I feel like I’m dwelling too much thinking about my life and lack of friends, lack of money, etc, because I kind of have too much free time that I don’t know how to occupy anymore. I could spend an entire day doing absolutely nothing, just scrolling social media or something, because I don’t get myself to do anything at home. Then, when I want to do something and actually have no time because of work, I complain I don’t have time to do anything. I never thought I’d have a lack of hobbies, but here we are.

It's not that you don't know how to do things alone, it's that you've gotten out of the habit.

You've forgotten how to be your own company.

As a problem, it's actually a good one to have, because you are entirely capable of fixing it. Because it's about you. And who you need to check with to do it is... you. And who you need to consider before pushing is...YOU. It' makes everything more simple.

I understand that you're looking for social activities you can do and you are blocked because of money/time. Totally understandable. And I see your struggle. One thing you can do is look for an event outside of your town. The next town over? Even a nearby city. You can make a day of it. But that's for events or classes. Just look around and see something that fits your schedule even if you have to drive to get there. My town is also tiny and not active at all unless you're churchy. But somehow I joined an art collective. And I used to go to the poetry club. And I know there are are book clubs at the library but I haven't joined. And there's a comic book store and I'm pretty sure they have D&D sometimes. The point is look around again for activities and expand your search. Maybe you just haven't found it yet.

OTHERWISE. My suggestion for you is to start dating yourself.

Seriously. Take yourself out for dates. Figure out an activity you'd like to do and then set up an itinerary and do it. You want to see that movie no one else wants to watch? Set a date with yourself to make it to opening night.

Take a book that you've been dying to read to your favorite cafe and sit there and read your book and have the best coffees and treats and maybe buy yourself a fancy bookmark.

Want to do yoga? Set up your ipad with a good video and take it out side to a park or beach or yard and do it outside with a green smoothie as a treat afterwards.

Start your own book club. Ask at the library to put up a notice, or on community boards. Maybe the library has a room you can use to meet.

I used to wander the city with my journal, looking for cafes, where I'd sit and write and sketch.

Or hey. You know what's cool? Going out on a date with yourself to take photographs. Go to a place you always thought was interesting, and just walk around and take note of things. Take photos. Then collect your favorites and post them on tumblr or instagram or wherever.

You're stuck right now, but that doesn't mean you will always be stuck. Don't beat yourself up for being in between hobbies. You'll figure it out.

[rafescoke]

i’m sooo obsessed with your entire page holy moly. if you’re taking requests can i get kinda an angst one where the reader is with jj and finds out him and kie have been doing stuff behind her back, and the rest of the group knew the whole time? so she ends up getting close to rafe and hanging out with his friends so it eventually ends up with rafe x reader??? sorry that’s so long lol pls never stop writing, i love your fics too much <3

All I Ask ; Rafe Cameron

masterlist

#Part 1

#Part 2

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader x JJ Maybank

Summary: Reader finds herself in the arms of her best friend’s brother after finding her boyfriend cheating on her 

Warnings: Cheating, substance, mentions of sex, jealous Rafe, JJ & Kie being an asshole

A/N: Thank you so much for the amount of love I received from my last two works! It has been so overwhelming and I love each one of you with all my heart <3

p.s, my request box is always open! Send random ideas and I’ll turn them into a fic <33

p.p.s, so sorry if this isn’t my best work :(

“Come on, (Y/N), don’t be a party pooper!”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes as she pulled her best friend aside from all the commotion, “Sarah. I’m serious. I feel like he’s cheating on me.”

“He’s not!” Sarah groaned, and when (Y/N) gave her a look, she sighed. “I’m serious. He loves you too much, okay? Look, tomorrow’s your birthday, right? I’m sure JJ’s just ignoring you as a part of your birthday surprise.”

(Y/N) wanted to believe her so bad, but she couldn’t deny the strong feeling growing inside her. Ever since a month ago, JJ wasn’t there for her like always. When she tried to hold him in the van or at the Chateau, he would flinch and scoot away from her. She didn’t know what to do anymore.

“Look-” Sarah cupped her face, her eyes boring into hers. “I promise that he’s not cheating on you. Can you please let this go? How about you go and find him, have a smoke, and then come back to me with the verdict?”

(Y/N) hummed back in response, thinking about what Sarah had just told her. When she first moved to Obx from the city 4 years ago, she had been spending most of her time with the other kooks. When she bumped onto JJ one particular evening while he was too busy mowing down her lawn, that was when most of her happiest days started. 

(Y/N) made her way towards the far end of the beach where JJ and the other pogues were hanging out, her feet lightly patting against the hot sand. (Y/N) took a deep breath when she saw the love of her life laughing on a log, and quickly walked towards him.

“Hey,” she started, sitting on the empty space beside him. JJ shifted, giving her more space, and muttered a quick ‘hi’ back. He offered her a beer, to which she shook her head to, and he shrugged before downing the whole content.

“You’ve got some beer here,” (Y/N) said, leaning forward to wipe the tiny droplet on his chin. JJ hurtled backwards as if on cue, and quickly wiped the stain with the back of his hand. (Y/N) stared at him, being caught off guard, but decided to not create any drama.

“You really don’t have to do that,” (Y/N) muttered, wrapping her cardigan over her tighter. The cold night air swept over her, causing her hair to fall over her shoulders. She didn’t bother to fix it as she watched JJ scoffed, the fire in front of them reflecting on the surface of his blue eyes.

“Do what? Wipe my mouth? Come on, (Y/N), it’s really not that big of a deal,” JJ sighed. He didn’t even bother to hold her hand, to reassure her that it’s really okay, and instead he continued his conversation with John B about some kind of a movie. She noticed Pope looking at their way, but he quickly turned to look at the waves when she returned his gaze.

“Do you want to smoke?” she tried again, this time with her hands on his lap. He didn’t move, and (Y/N) took this as a good sign, her heart fluttering happily. 

It’s progress.

“You sure?” he asked, fumbling with his back pocket to reach for his extra blunt. When he grasped the rolled up herbs between his fingers, he handed it to her, smiling when she scooted closer. He lighted it for her, watching her took a deep huff before blowing the smoke.

“That’s good?” he asked before taking a blow for himself. He felt his heavy mind getting lighter, the weight he has been holding since forever slowly lifting into the air. He laughed, and turned to look at the state of the girl beside him.

“Thank you, baby,” (Y/N) smiled, this time with her head on his shoulder. She saw Pope looking at them with some kind of a heavy look again, but just like before, he turned away before she could ask him anything. 

“Pope?” 

Pope’s attention from the crashing waves turned completely to (Y/N), his eyes wide and his mind panicking. His eyes glanced to the blonde boy beside her for a second, but it settled back to her. “Yes?”

“You’re okay? You keep looking at me. Is there anything that you want to tell me?”

“Me?” he pointed to his chest, and when he saw the look on JJ’s face, he laughed, making an action of swatting his hands against the air. “Oh no. I was just thinking about something else. I guess I involuntarily looked at you.”

(Y/N) laughed with him, her head still on JJ’s shoulder, her eyes slowly squinting against the glowing fire that seemed to be too bright. She turned to whisper to JJ, “Can we go home?”

“Tonight? But It’s Bonfire night. We can’t leave yet,” he protested, glancing at both of his friends for help. Pope, not wanting to spend anymore time with them anymore, quickly stood up from his seat and walked towards the main space of the party. 

“I’m gonna go with Pope, okay? Find Sarah. Go and talk to her? I’ll call you later,” JJ quickly added, standing up from his seat, stirring (Y/N) from her previous position. She sighed, her head still woozy, but she didn’t want to think about the possibility of him cheating on her.

He wanted her first, it’s just not possible for him to suddenly lose feelings for her. The countless times he would tell her that he loves her, that she’s the only girl he will ever mark as his, and now nothing?

She groaned, kicking the sand, all while the muffled music thrumming against her eardrums. She turned to look at John B, the only guy left with her, and opened her mouth to say something.

“Do you see the problem, John B?” she asked, her voice slow. When he didn’t reply, she sighed again, this time standing up from her seat to return to the ongoing party. “This is exactly the fucking problem.”

She didn’t understand; why is everyone treating her differently? What did she do? She sacrificed almost everything to be apart of their group, including her relationship with her kook friends. At that moment, she longed for her bedroom, where she knew she will be totally safe, all cuddled up with Netflix to enjoy.

“If it isn’t the princess,” a voice said from behind her back, and (Y/N) rolled her eyes before turning to look at the source. The tall figure of Rafe Cameron loomed over her, and (Y/N) tried to block his scent of cigarette and expensive cologne. She never really stopped liking his smell.

The Camerons and her family are business partners, and that was the core reason for her family to move to Obx in the middle of July 4 years ago. Meeting Sarah and her siblings for the first time, she couldn’t deny the strong attraction she felt towards the oldest sibling, but she had thought of it as nothing more than a silly crush and tried to focus more on her relationship with a certain blonde boy living on the other side of the island.

“You can take a picture, it’ll last longer that way,” he smiled, and (Y/N) groaned when she could hear the amused tone lacing in his gruff voice. She made to walk away, but was halted by Rafe’s fingers around her wrist.

“Come on, I was just playing. That’s not the way to treat an old friend,” he laughed, letting go of her. He looked around her, noticing her odd behaviour, and suppressed his smile. “Where’s the boyfriend?”

“I don’t know,” she finally replied, and returned the gesture of looking around him. “Where’s the girlfriend?”

Rafe laughed, throwing his head back as his hair messily slicked to the back. “Girlfriend? I don’t do girlfriends. Come on, (Y/N), you know that.”

“Not a surprise,” she said in a singing tone, giving her attention towards the dancing bodies next to the speaker. “Look, Rafe, just say whatever you want to say to me, okay? I’m tired of trying to figure out what people wanted to say to me.” 

“I just want to make a conversation,” he shrugged, chugging down his beer before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His actions reminded her of JJ, and she quickly looked away when she felt a pang of hurt across her heart.

“Uh-oh, I know that look,” Rafe said, tugging her chin to force her to look at him. (Y/N) grunted, feeling his cold skin against hers, but she let him stare into her eyes before quickly pulling away. “Yeah. It’s that look you’ll put when you’re worried about something. What’s up?”

“Rafe, it’s really nothing,” she sighed, scooting away from the boy. She looked around again, and her eyes landed on a certain blonde boy, and she could feel her heart soaring up again. Rafe’s eyes followed her gaze, and when he saw JJ, he turned to look away.

“I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Yeah, whatever,” Rafe replied, already making his way towards the keg station.  (Y/N) noticed the change in his behaviour, seeing how cold he turned, but decided not to mention it. She was being cold towards him first, so she guessed it was fair for him to be acting that way. 

Rafe didn’t understand how blind she could be. Couldn’t she notice the pattern of the girls he fucked? How they all looked so similar to her? 

He scoffed, sipping from his red cup as he watched her walk towards the boy that stole her from him. Everything was going perfect; they were hanging out almost every day; just her and Rafe, either it was in his swimming pool or (Y/N)’s hot tub. When her father had hired JJ Maybank to mower his lawn, that was when everything went downhill. 

“Cameron,” a voice greeted from beside him, and when he turned to look at the figure, he expressed a sly smirk.

One more person that looked like her.

. . .

JJ’s phone was beside her.

She kept telling herself no, that she should trust him since they are in a relationship, but her brain was yelling for her to go through his phone.

He’s cheating on you.

She groaned, unable to contain herself anymore as she grabbed his phone, looking around briefly before typing his passcode. 

The phone vibrated in her hands as she failed to guess his passcode, and she frowned before the screen. It had been her birthday’s date, so why wouldn’t it open? She tried again with their anniversary date, and again, was met with the same fate.

“What the fuck?” she said to no one in particular, and sighed before trying out random numbers. Lastly, she pressed all 1, not thinking much of it and already accepting her defeat. She exclaimed in happiness when his home screen appeared with his background a picture of a dog.

(Y/N) frowned again, remembering how it used to be a picture of them, but decided to not question it as their picture had been replaced by a dog instead of something else. She went through his Instagram, scroling down the many direct messages, through his Imessages; where he texts the pogues a lot and through his Snapchat, only finding their private pictures in his ‘my eyes only’.

She released the breath she didn’t realise she was holding, shutting the phone off and letting it lay in its previous position. She smiled, secretly cursing at herself for ever doubting JJ. He must’ve been busy with his life, just-

Ding!

Involuntarily, (Y/N) picked up the phone and watched as Kie’s name appeared. She typed in his passcode quickly, trying to see what she needs so that she could try and help her with anything in case if it’s urgent. Her heart stopped for a minute when she saw her text.

Kie: You’re sleeping with her tonight?

Why would she even text him that?

(Y/N) sat up straighter, her fingers gliding across the screen in a swift motion.

wdym?

She watched as the typing signal appeared, biting the insides of her cheeks. She looked at the direction of the toilet again, hearing the blonde boy humming to a Nirvana song. She looked at the screen again.

Kie: You promised me you would be with me tonight

Kie: Just us two

Oh my god.

She could feel the hot tears coming in, but her bathroom door creaked open, so she threw the phone back to its initial position and cleared her throat, looking to the ceiling and randomly muttering words to herself.

“Huh?” JJ asked, looking at the direction she pointed. He saw nothing, and looked back to her. 

“I said white’s not the color anymore. I think I’m changing it to grey. What do you think?” She asked, feeling her throat hurting. She cleared her throat again as JJ stared at the ceiling one more time, his face all scrunched up.

“I think grey’s okay?” He said, but it was more to a question. He took his phone and sat beside her, shielding his screen from her. She watched him from the corners of her eyes, silently interpreting his strange demeanor. 

She cursed when it finally hit her; she hadn’t delete her text to Kie.

She bit her lips, curling her toes and randomly tracing circles on her lap. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t see clearly, she couldn’t think.

How could she forgot to delete that one, single text? 

“I have to go,” JJ stood up, slipping his phone into his pocket. (Y/N) looked at him, ready to ask if she could follow, but halted her action when he put a hand up.

“I’m seeing John B. Something about, um, Sarah stuff. Just me and Pope. The boys,” he muttered, clearly trying to tell her that he wouldn’t be bringing her to the Chateau. (Y/N) nodded, feeling her heart sank, because she finally understood everything;

The glances he would give to Kie in the HMS Pogue, the brief moments where he would put his hands around Kie’s waist when he tries to slip in between her and someone, the flirtatious laugh he’ll emit when she makes a joke - it all made sense.

(Y/N) used to think that it was all just friendly behaviour and how he had known her longer hence it must’ve been normal for best friends to do that. One thing that (Y/N) likes about herself is how she’s able to guess things correctly - 

But she had never wanted to be so wrong about something before.

“You’re okay by yourself tonight?” 

“Huh?” She finally looked up to him, seeing his blue eyes staring straight into her boring ones. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” he smiled, proceeding towards the open window to exit her bedroom. (Y/N) ‘s father would never give his blessings towards this relationship, so he had to enter and exit his girlfriend’s room through the window. 

He hesitated before reaching the seating girl, placing a soft but immediate kiss on her cheeks. (Y/N) smiled weakly in return, not trusting herself to say anything.

How could he?

Ten minutes after his departure, (Y/N) quickly grabbed her father’s car keys before fleeing after a particular black motorcycle. She didn’t even think about turning the car radio on, and her mind was set on only one thing; JJ and Kie.

When she arrived at the Chateau, her fingers trembling and her hair all over the place from the wind while she was driving down the road, forgetting to close the window, she quickly made her way to their usual hanging out place.

Before she could enter the room, Pope’s voice interrupted her actions.

“(Y/N)? What the fuck are you doing here?” he asked, his eyes widening. He looked at her palm around the doorknob, and let out a nervous laugh. “You’re looking for JJ? He’s not here.”

She gets it now.

“Pope, I know,” was all she said before opening the door. 

She felt her world shattering right after she was greeted with the sight of Kie on JJ’s lap, running her fingers through his blonde locks while she kissed him tenderly like  (Y/N) always did. John B and Sarah were right next to him, cheering him on, but stopped when they finally looked up to the looming figure.

“Oh my god,” Kie exclaimed, pushing herself off JJ and fixing her hair. (Y/N) made a look, disgust filling every inch of her body as she quickly walked away from the scene, not wanting to hear any apologies or explanation.

None of that mattered to her; she just wanted to go home.

“(Y/N)!” she heard him yell, but she exited the Chateau as fast as her feet could take her, not stopping to look at him. She cursed when she couldn’t find the right key to open her door, her fingernails clanking against the metal.

“It was a dare!” JJ said, right after he reached her. He watched as she didn’t pay any attention towards him, still fumbling for her keys. “I swear! The kiss was just a dare!”

“Was the text a dare as well?” she asked, finally putting the right key into the keyhole and stepping into the car. JJ cursed and stepped aside, feeling drained and tired from the screaming.

Of course he didn’t send the ‘wdym’. He never like short forms, only using them when he is in the toilet and typing with his left hand. Why didn’t he realised this sooner?

“I’m sorry,” he said, but before he could say anything else, the girl drove straight towards the exit, away from him. 

The worst part of all wasn’t about not having a chance to explain himself to get out of the mess he made, but it was when he saw the pained look on her face. 

“Fuck!” he yelled, kicking a stone and making his way back towards the Chateau. 

(Y/N) fingers scrolled down the many contacts in her phone as she tried to focus on the road simultaneously, and finally stopping when she reached the letter ‘R’ contacts. 

She tapped on the first name under the R letter, putting the phone call on speaker and placing her phone on her lap. She shuddered, suddenly remembering the way she had found JJ and Kie in, but shook her head when his voice filled the atmosphere.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Rafe.”

-

add yourself to the taglist!

[doglover-trait]

Mix'n'Match Legacy Challenge

Yup! I'm back with another legacy challenge!

I noticed that I often utilized certain pack-related game features only by themselves. For example, I would never run a vet clinic and sell knitted items on Plopsy for extra cash. And I thought, why not? And so, the Mix'n'Match Legacy Challenge was born.

My goal was to combine pack-related skills and gameplay into generations that I could make a story out of, and I think I did it!

General Rules

You may play on any lifespan

Begin with a starter budget

Use money cheats sparingly (ex. freerealestate for your first home, an extra 5k to afford a house, etc.)

No cheats that will give you an advantage over other players

You must complete all the listed aspirations, skills, and careers (unless otherwise noted)

Have fun!

If any of these rules make gameplay less fun, ignore them! I want this challenge to be enjoyable for everyone :)

Generation 1 - Eco Lifestyle/Island Living/Spa Day

The environment has always meant a lot to you. You work hard to preserve your beautiful home; Sulani. You can get a little too passionate sometimes, but you can always rely on a relaxing stroll on the beach, a nice meditation session, or some soothing yoga to calm you down. The islands are your home, and you will always love them.

Traits: Child of the Islands, Green Fiend, Hot-Headed

Aspiration: Beach Life & Eco Innovator

Career: Civil Designer

Goals:

Marry a conservationist (they must also reach Level 10 in their career)

Master the Wellness and Logic skills

Successfully clean up your neighborhood and have a green eco footprint (and keep it that way until the end of your life)

Befriend 3 dolphins

Generation 2 - Cats & Dogs/Seasons

While your parents cared more about the well-being of the islands of Sulani, you always loved the animals you found there. However, the heat of Sulani always got to you, so as a young adult you move to Brindleton Bay to open your own vet clinic. You adopt a few strays along the way (probably more than you should), and after having your first child, you decide to adopt a few of those too. Your biggest desire in life is to do good for all the people and animals you can. But you always make time to play in the rain and splash in puddles with your kids.

Traits: Cat Lover or Dog Lover, Family-Oriented, Good

Aspiration: Friend of the Animals

Goals:

Live your entire adult life in Brindleton Bay

Buy a vet clinic and work there as a vet

Master the Veterinary and Parenting skills

Unlock and master the secret Skating skill

Adopt at least three strays

Have at least one biological kid from a one-night stand

Adopt at least two kids

Purchase the 'Heatproof', 'Iceproof', and 'Stormchaser' traits from the Rewards Store

Use the 'Cook Together' interaction whenever possible

Decorate for every holiday and do something to celebrate every season

Have at least two hot weather outfits and two cold weather outfits (pro tip: use raincoats!)

Generation 3 - City Living/Dine Out

You grew up in a close-knit family in Brindleton Bay, spending time with your siblings and cooking with your parent. Food is your passion, but in your tiny coastal town, you can’t share it as much as you'd like. So as soon as you’re old enough, you move to a tiny apartment in San Myshuno to become a chef. Social media is how you share your delicacies with the world, and your food blog blows up right away. To your delight, your rising popularity gives you the chance to open your very own restaurant! You don’t have an interest in romance, but when your fans start shipping you with another foodie celebrity, you feel like you have no choice but to start a relationship.

Traits: Vegetarian, Foodie, Unflirty

Aspiration: City Native & Master Chef *since the Master Chef aspiration requires you to be in the Culinary career, you may either use cheats to skip those specific goals or choose not to complete the Master Chef aspiration

Career: Social Media (Internet Personality Branch)

Goals:

Max the Cooking, Gourmet Cooking, and Singing skills

Own a 5-star restaurant

Become at least a 2-star celebrity

Marry a celebrity with the Foodie trait (you may create this sim, since they'll be hard to find in the wild)

Have only one child

Learn every vegetarian city recipe

Generation 4 - Get Famous/Get Together

Your parent was definitely the quiet type, but you? You want loud music at the club, hoards of fans, and lots of friends, parties, and drinks. You dream of becoming an actor and making waves in the music industry at the same time. So when your friend finds a place in Del Sol Valley, you don’t hesitate to move in, even though you’re still a teen. Your posse grows fast, and you’re beloved by all of your friends. They’ll follow wherever you lead. But you want more. You want FAME. And you’ll do anything to get there. Because you’re the most important; you deserve it more than anyone else.

Traits: Insider, Dance Machine, Self-Absorbed

Aspiration: Leader of the Pack & World-Famous Celebrity

Career: Actor

Goals:

Move away from home as a teen

Master the Acting, Charisma, Dancing, and Media Production skills

Become a 5-star celebrity

Be the leader of a prestigious club

Marry a fellow celebrity

Generation 5 - Get To Work/StrangerVille

While your parent loved to soak up the attention and socialize with all manner of people, you’re much more focused on your studies. You’re an intelligent sim, and when you grow up, you decide to use this intelligence to further sim-kind’s discoveries in the field of science. But the tiny town of StrangerVille is boggling your big mind. The residents are suffering from some sort of affliction, but you can’t figure it out! You’ve never been wrong in your life, and you certainly aren’t about to start now. Everyone else is waiting for you to fail; you just know it. They’re watching, whispering, commenting on your inability to solve this mystery. But you’re going to do it. You’ll solve the StrangerVille mystery even if it costs you your life.

Traits: Genius, Ambitious, Paranoid

Aspiration: Nerd Brain & StrangerVille Mystery

Career: Scientist

Goals:

Master the Logic and Handiness skills

Marry a sim who used to be infected

Travel to Sixam and harvest all the alien plants (after all, you want to know where the Mother came from!)

Generation 6 - Cottage Living/Parenthood/Nifty Knitting

Your parent was the revered Hero of StrangerVille, and so your family was always in the limelight. But you want a quieter life, one filled with peaceful days in the garden and animal companions by your side. So you move to a small cottage in Henford-on-Bagley and cut all ties with your family. You want to raise your kids without their influence. Foolishly, you fall for young love, but it doesn’t work out. Romance was never your forte. Still, you end up with your bundles of joy, and so you regret nothing. You and your kids spend the days tending to the farm, cross-stitching, and knitting sweaters for the kids and the animals.

Traits: Animal Enthusiast, Noncommittal, Cheerful

Aspiration: Lord/Lady of the Knits & Super Parent

Goals:

Master the Gardening, Knitting, Parenting and Cross-Stitching skills

Make all your money from gardening, knitting, and cross-stitching

Grow a Perfect Quality oversized crop

Own both a cow and a llama (it doesn’t have to be at the same time)

Win at the Finchwick Fair at least twice

Have three failed relationships before giving up on romance

Have a child with at least two of the three partners

Adopt at least two children

Generation 7 - Snowy Escape/Jungle Adventure

You grew up in a peaceful house in the countryside... and it was BORING. You crave adventure and excitement, thrills and risks. Mt. Komorebi seems like the perfect place to live life to the fullest, but you’ve always wanted to explore more than just the traditional little town. Selvadorada presents many risks and many rewards; it’s your kind of place! You love to explore the ancient ruins and uncover sacred artifacts, but you’re just as happy to spend the weekend skiing, snowboarding, or going on a rock-climbing expedition!

Traits: Active, Adventurous, Self-Assured

Aspiration: Extreme Sports Enthusiast & Jungle Explorer

Career: Athlete

Goals:

Master the Selvadoradian Culture, Archaeology, Rock Climbing, and Skiing/Snowboarding skills

Reach the peak of Mt. Komorebi

Marry a Selvadoradian native

Gain and maintain the Energetic lifestyle

Generation 8 - Tiny Living/Outdoor Retreat/Bowling Stuff

You had an awesome childhood. You lived in snowy Mt. Komorebi and had chill parents that did all sorts of outdoor activities with you. You loved nature, but you also loved to make others laugh. Seeing someone’s eyes light up with joy made your day. You’re a social busybody, bouncing from work to performing comedy routines to a bowling game with your buddies. But you still like to come home to your cozy little house to brew some herbal remedies and rest. You always find time in your busy schedule to go on a camping trip to Granite Falls, and when they’re old enough, you bring your kids too. You love roasting marshmallows and telling them ghost stories just as much as you love laughter.

Traits: Goofball, Outgoing, Loves Outdoors

Aspiration: Outdoor Enthusiast

Career: Entertainer (Comedian Branch)

Goals:

Master the Bowling, Comedy, and Herbalism skills

Complete the insect collection

Always live in a tiny home (the tier is up to you, but you must live in at least two different tier types)

Have at least three good friends whom you go bowling with once a week

Go camping in Granite Falls at least once per season

Purchase the ‘Great Storyteller’ reward trait

Generation 9 - Discover University/City Living

As a kid, your parents always took you and your siblings on lots of family camping trips… and you HATED them. Bugs, dirt, smelly public bathrooms… YUCK! You like things nice, neat, and perfect. Everything has its place, and yours is on top. You dream of becoming a powerful politician, and a distinguished one at that. You study History at Britechester and graduate top of the class before moving on to bigger and brighter things. Your sensibility and level-headedness are highly valued in your work life, but in your home life? Your kid can’t get over their obsession with the supernatural, and you definitely do not approve.

Traits: Squeamish, Perfectionist, Neat

Aspiration: Academic & Neighborhood Confidante

Career: Politician

Goals:

Reach Level 10 in the Politician career

Max the Research & Debate, Charisma, and Writing skills

Graduate from Britechester with a Distinguished History degree and a perfect GPA

Gain and maintain the Workaholic lifestyle

Have a strained relationship with both your parents and your kids (acquaintances or worse)

Generation 10 - Realm of Magic/Paranormal Stuff

You always loved the stories your grandparent would tell you; ghosts, witches, vampires, even aliens! And though your parent never believed in or supported you, you’re determined to prove them wrong and explore the supernatural world.

You move to the small, secretive town of Glimmerbrook, getting a house with some “issues'' for a very cheap price. And you discover an amazing secret; an entire magical realm! But the house’s issues soon make themselves known… and you love it! You pick up the Medium skill quickly and eventually decide to make ghost hunting your career. Up until now, you’ve been selling your paintings on Plopsy. Needless to say, through ghost hunting, you earn enough to move out of your own haunted house.

Traits: Creative, Art Lover, Good

Aspiration: Spellcraft & Sorcery

Career: Paranormal Investigator

Goals:

Master the Medium, Charisma, and Painting skills

Complete the Spellcraft & Sorcery aspiration

Learn every Potion and Practical Magic spell

Purchase the 'Brave' trait from the Rewards Store

Live in a haunted house on heroic mode for at least half of your young adult life

Have a garden full of magical plants (all the plants needed for potions)

Make and drink the Potion of Immortality

Make money only from your garden, your paintings, and the Paranormal Investigator career

OR

Generation 10 - Vampires/Dream Home Decorator

You always loved the stories your grandparent would tell you; ghosts, witches, vampires, even aliens! And though your parent never believed in or supported you, you’re determined to prove them wrong and explore the supernatural world.

You move to the small, secretive town of Forgotten Hollow, chasing the rumors of vampires in the area. And to your delight, they're true! You convince them to turn you, and you revel in your power, desperate to grow stronger. But you don’t want your eye for design and style to go to waste, and a job as an Interior Decorator gives you a great source of plasma. But after a long day of design work and fighting Vladdy Daddy, you like to settle down and lose yourself in your music.

Traits: Creative, Music Lover, Evil

Aspiration: Master Vampire

Career: Interior Decorator

Goals:

Max the Vampire Lore, Pipe Organ, and Violin/Piano skills

Become a Grand Master vampire

Drink the plasma from all of your clients

[ppersonna]

my only wish - knj | m

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

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

✹ rating- explicit/18+/nsfw

✹ pairing- kim namjoon x reader

✹ word count- 15.1k OOF

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

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

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

There are few things you hate most in this world. 

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

 But nothing takes the cake more than two simple things: 

 Christmas. 

 And Kim Namjoon. 

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

 And don’t even start on Kim Namjoon. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Yes, Mr. Kim?”

 “I’ve got a case for you.”

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

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

 “I know you won’t let me down.”

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

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

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

 Personal Injury Suit.

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

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

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

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

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

 He looks over the documents and sucks his teeth.

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

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

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

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

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

 “I know, babe. I know.”

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

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

 “Yeah! Fighting!” Jimin cheers.

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

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

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

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

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

 “I am her grandchild, Mom.”

 She’s silent for a moment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Namjoon, I’m just conce-”

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

There’s a stunned silence on the other end.

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

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

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

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

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

 “Fuck.”

 He drops his phone to his wooden desk and grimaces. 

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

 There’s Jennie, his ex.

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

 His last hookup, Jihoo?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “God, Jimin, come on.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Yeah? The IT guy?”

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

 He scrambles to grab the phone out of your hand.

 “You literally refuse to do anything I ask.”

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

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

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

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

 “How's the new computer?”

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

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

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

 That laugh is the sultry demon himself, Kim Namjoon.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “I have my own coffee.”

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

 “Looks fancy.”

 You purse your lips and clutch your coffee even closer.

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

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

 “Fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Fuck off.”

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

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

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

 “I need a favor.”

 “No.” Your answer is quick.

 Namjoon looks up at you in surprise.

 “You haven’t even heard it yet!”

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

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

 “You’ve got to help me. Please.”

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

 “Fine, I’ll bite. What is it?”

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

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

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

 Your eyes widen, and your mouth falls agape.

 “You—You what?!”

 Namjoon sighs and lowers his voice.

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

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

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

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

 Well, his fake girlfriend.

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

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

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

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

 Namjoon steps back and moves towards the coffee machine again.

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

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

 “How d'you know about them?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

 With an aggravated sigh, you relent. 

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

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

 “Deal?” He murmurs.

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

 “Deal.”

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

  Jimin doesn’t let you live it down.

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

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

 Flopping into the couch beside him, you sigh.

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

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

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

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

 “Then tell me, what was the deal?”

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

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

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

 “Wow,” he breathes.

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

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

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

 “Shut up!” You cry.

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

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

 Jimin’s cheeks immediately turn a shade of rouge.

 “Yoongi? Yoongi who?”

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

 Jimin swallows a large swig of his wine.

 “Oh. Yes, I did.”

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

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

 “Jimin!” You huff. “The computer?!”

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

 “I… might have forgotten to ask.”

 Your mouth drops open.

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

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

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

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

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

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

 You playfully slap at Jimin’s thigh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Well, good morning to you, sunshine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Jimin kicks at your foot again. 

 “Stop talking,” he grumbles.

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

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

 “Right now?!” You ask, incredulous.

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

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

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

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

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

 “Jimin, I swear to God.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Yes. Call Yoongi.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Even if it is... well, fake. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Namjoon smiles as he sips his cappuccino. 

 “I got you a fresh one.”

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

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

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

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

 Namjoon settles his cup down.

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

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

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

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

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

 He stifles a laugh.

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

 With a dramatic sigh, you agree.

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

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

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

 You level a look.

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

 Namjoon can’t help but snort a laugh.

 “I meant after that.”

 You shrug as you settle back into the seat.

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

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

 A scowl comes over your face.

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

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

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

 He shrugs and scooches his mug around the carbonate table.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Already?!”

 “We’re burning daylight, baby.”

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

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

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

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

 “No, we’ll take my Range Rover.”

 You roll your eyes and grimace.

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

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

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

 Christmas shopping with Namjoon is mostly painless.

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

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

 “Mom will love this, don��t you think?” Namjoon asks, holding up a thick, exquisite looking blanket.

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

 Why do things feel so easy with him?

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

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

 It’s confusing.

 It’s amazing.

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

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

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

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

 It’s infuriating and wonderful all at once. 

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

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

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

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

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

 Namjoon sucks his teeth and nudges you.

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

 You stick your tongue out at him playfully.

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

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

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

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

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

 “Fuck you, Namjoon.”

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

 “In due time, my love.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Which means waking up to Kim Namjoon.

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Ugh. Unbelievable.

 Namjoon has even made you actually enjoy Christmas.

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

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

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

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

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

 And then it will be over.

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

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

 Nothing more.

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

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

 Fuck.

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

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

 “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Oh, my son, I’ve missed you.”

 Namjoon kisses the crown of her head and smiles.

 “Missed you too, eomma.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Because this is all fake. 

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

 “Yeah,” you nod. “I’m great.”

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

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

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

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

 Jungkook smirks as he steps up next to you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Fuck.

 “Here we are!” 

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

 “Wow,” is all you can muster.

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

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

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

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

 “This is—Wow, this is amazing.”

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

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

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

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

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

 “Not such a Scrooge after all, eh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Well, your fake boyfriend. Right.

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

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

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

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

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

 An absolute vision.

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

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

“So do you.”

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

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

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

 “Yes?”

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

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

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

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

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

 “Knock Knock!!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “It’s alright. Let’s go?”

 Namjoon nods and holds out his hand with a smile.

 “Let’s go, girlfriend.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Fuck. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  You should have thought through the bedroom sharing thing more.

 Because sharing a bedroom is one thing.

 And sharing a bed is another.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Namjoon laughs for a moment, then quiets.

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

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

“What?! Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

 Namjoon barks a laugh.

 “My what?”

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

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

 “Wow,” he breathes. “Thank you.”

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

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

 Namjoon smirks.

 “And the Nespresso?”

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

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

 He chuckles and settles down into his pillows.

 “Goodnight,” he whispers.

 “Goodnight, Namjoon.”

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

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

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

 “Merry Christmas, Joonie.”

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

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

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

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

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

 “Of course,” Namjoon yawns.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Merry Christmas?” He offers shyly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Yeah.”

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

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

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

 This is all too much, it’s too real.

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

 The tears don’t stop.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 He’s proposing.

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

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

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

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

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

 There’s no way you can recover from this.

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

 “____, will you marry me?”

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

 Oh, how you wish this were all real.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 It’s silent and Namjoon’s heart sinks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Don’t you get it, Namjoon?”

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

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

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

 “I never had to pretend.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Never been more serious in my life.”

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

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

 You didn’t put up much of a fight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 He’s an entire three-course meal.

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

 “Take your shirt off.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Why don’t we practice right now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Yeah,” is all he can manage.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 A Nespresso.

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

 Inside, the card is simple.

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

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

[watchmegetobsessed]

All Yours - Harry Styles

a/n: idk if you saw those pics of the house that’s supposedly Harry’s, maybe it’s not his but that shower gave me... thoughts 👀 . and these are those thoughts lmao enjoy!!

warning: sexual content

word count: 2.2k

masterlist

Harry has been mad at you all day. Well, not mad in the sense where he hates your guts, that could never happen because the two of you are ridiculously in love, but he thought you let a guy flirt with you earlier in the grocery shop and his dominant, jealous side came out right away.

“I was just answering his question nicely, H,” you sighed when he confronted you in the car on the way home.

“Yeah, nicely let him flirt with you and basically fuck you with his eyes,” he scoffed, still clearly upset by it.

“Harry, I don’t have control over what others think. How am I supposed to change what goes on in his mind?” you asked with a confused chuckle. You could feel the man’s stare, but he didn’t do anything disrespectful, he didn’t touch you or say something inappropriate, just asked you a simple question, you answered and then you parted ways. Easy as it is.

“You could have just not answer him,” he shrugged, but you could tell he knew you would have never done that.

“What happened to treat people with kindness, babe?” you teased him, but he just rolled his eyes mumbling under his breath.

“No kindness when someone is trying to fuck my girlfriend.”

You find it amusing when he turns into some kind of cave man whenever he is jealous. It has a manly charm that just riles you up. Knowing how territorial he is, how he wants everyone to know that you’re his, it’s just doing things to you only Harry can achieve.

Now he is lying in bed, scrolling through his phone and he still seems a little distant following the little jealousy scene from earlier. You’ve tried to lighten him up, but for some reason he is trying to convince him that you really were flirting with that man. So now you are eager to show him that he is the only man in your life and you’re not planning to change that anytime soon.

“Gonna take a shower,” you tell him walking out of your closet in only your silky bathrobe. Harry doesn’t look up, just hums in response. Reaching to your stomach you untie the knot on the robe and let it slide open, revealing your fully naked body, making his eyes finally flicker up. “You are welcome to join,” you tell him with a sly smirk before walking into the bathroom joined to the bedroom you’ve been sharing with him this past year.

You don’t close the door behind you, and just as you take the robe off you hear him shuffling outside, walking into the bathroom just when you step into the giant walk-in shower. Biting into your lip you start the water that rains down on you from the showerheads hanging from the ceiling while Harry is eager to free himself from his sweatpants and shirt.

He kicks his boxers down, his eyes widening slightly as he watches you stand under the water, running your hands through your wet hair, making sure the light coming from the window on the other side gives out the silhouette of your curves perfectly. Dropping your hands you turn to him, tilting your head to the side, enjoying the attention you are getting from your man.

“Are you gonna stay there watching or you plan on getting inside?” you ask teasingly and he doesn’t need more. He joins you under the water in a heartbeat, the droplets running down his firm chest and broad shoulders so perfectly, you already want to lick them off with your hungry mouth. It’s always funny to you how Harry still can think you’d leave him for someone else when the entire male population starts and ends with him for you, there’s just no man that could ever make you feel the things he can, intentionally or not on purpose as well.

You grab the shower gel and squeeze some into the palm of your hand before starting to soap your upper body, eyes never leaving his as his green, greedy eyes burn down on your naked body.

��Would you mind doing my back?” you ask with faked innocence as you turn around and show him your back. He hums in response, reaching around you so his hands meet yours, stealing some of the gel from them before moving them to your back and gently massaging it into your wet skin. His finger start working on your shoulders and neck, rubbing your muscles perfectly as you feel yourself relax under his touch. When you accidentally take a tiny step backwards you can’t help the smirk that tugs on your lips when you feel his already hardening cock poking at your bum.

Harry pushes his chest against your back, his hands moving down to your breasts as he kneads them, making you moan, your head falling back to his shoulder.

“Feels good, baby?” he murmurs pressing his lips to your jawline as you reach back with your hands, lacing your fingers through his wet locks.

“Yes,” you breathe out, pushing your bum against him even more so his cock presses into you, making him groan in pleasure. Turning around in his arms you attack his lips, not able to keep yourself controlled any longer. He kisses you back with just as much passion and vigor, his hands gripping your waist so hard his fingers dig into your flesh. You move your hands down his back, nails scratching his soft skin until you reach his ass, squeezing each cheeks in a hand shamelessly that just makes him moan into your mouth.

“What do you want to do with me, Harry?” you ask him seductively, bringing a hand up to his hair so you can tug on his locks just the way he loves. “I’m all yours. Always have been, always will be.”

“Sit on the bench, baby. I want to taste you,” he groans, kissing you hard one last time before he lets go of you so you can move.

You sit to the marble bench under the window, the water not hitting you any longer and as Harry sinks to his knees in front of you, your legs open up for him out of instinct. Harry’s hands grab onto the insides of your thighs, exposing you to him even more and he stares down at your throbbing core like it’s his favorite meal in the entire world, made just for him by a chef.

Dipping his head down he kisses both your thighs up until his lips brush against your sensitive bud, teasing you a little as he is barely touching you.

“Harry!” you whine, a hand coming into his hair while you try to support you with the other one so you don’t fall back. “I need you!”

“M’right here, baby,” he smirks before he finally places and openmouthed kiss to your clit, swirling his tongue, sucking on your skin relentlessly.

“Oh fuck!” you gasp, your chest heaving from the pleasure that crashes down on you suddenly.

Harry has a magical mouth and you’ve known this since your third date years ago when the two of you were so hungry for each other that you didn’t even make it into your place, he ate you out in the backseat of his car before he fucked you good. Right then and there you knew you found the man you want to spend the rest of your life with.

He is making you see stars as he licks and sucks on your sex, two fingers coming to your hole, teasing you slightly, not thrusting into you just yet.

“Harry! Don’t fucking tease me!” you groan in frustration, desperate to feel more. You can feel his smirk against you before he finally pushes two fingers into you, making you moan his name over and over again.

“I fucking love your pussy, it’s so sweet and warm,” he hums, pumping into you without skipping a beat as he looks up to see the pleasure he is giving you on your face. He is satisfied with the work he is doing, watching you fall apart under his touch, weak for him and only for him.

He edges you until you’re screaming his name, almost reaching your climax but then he pulls back, leaving you feeling empty and unfinished. You don’t have the chance to speak up before he gets up to his feet and orders you around again.

“Get up, I’m gonna fuck you against the wall,” he tells you and your whole body lights on fire. You love it when he bosses you around, when he takes control but not too much. He knows your limits and knows that you fancy him being a little dominant, but he also knows how much you need the freedom of doing whatever you want during sex. You’re not completely submissive and he is not trying to make you either, just accepts your boundaries and play within the rules, making you extremely grateful that he is all about pleasuring you.

You stand up, but your knees weaken for a moment, threatening to collapse, but Harry grabs you just in time, holding you against his firm chest as he kisses your forehead.

“You good, baby?” he asks in a much softer tone.

“Yeah, just… a bit shaken,” you chuckle as you hold onto his shoulders. “I’m fine,” you assure him before pulling down to kiss him, your tongue meeting his in the middle.

He walks you until your back hits the wall and you hiss at the sudden coldness of it, making you arch against him, your breasts pushing against his tattooed chest. His lips never leave yours, he is tugging on your bottom lip, biting and licking into your mouth as his hands find the back of your thighs and he hoists you up until your legs wrap around his waist, holding you without a mishap.

“I’m gonna make you feel good, baby,” he mumbles into the kiss as he reaches down and grabbing the base of his fully erected cock, lining himself up with you, the tip teasing your core already.

“Go deep and hard, want to feel you everywhere,” you breathe out, grabbing a handful of his hair before he pushes into you without warning, filling you up entirely.

You gasp at the sudden feeling and he stops when he is all the way inside you, giving you some time to adjust to him. He kisses your lips, your nose and cheeks before you give his hair another tug, signaling that he can start moving. He picks up a steady pace, moving in and out of you easily since you are dripping wet for him at this point. Curling your arms around his shoulders you pant against the side of his face, kissing his temple, ear and the soft skin below it as he keeps thrusting into you, building your orgasm up once again.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” he groans, moving faster as his fingers dig into your thighs locked around his waist.

“Are you close, baby?” you ask out of breath.

“Yeah, I’m close, are you?”

“Yes, want you to cum with me, want to do it together,” you pant as you pull his head back so you can look into his eyes. He just nods and makes his thrusts shorter but harder, pushing you towards the edge.

“I’m gonna cum,” he warns you, his eyes shutting close for a few moments.

“Cum, I’m close too. Cum for me, Harry!” you ask him and he whines at your words.

A few more thrusts later you feel him jerk inside you as he falls out of his rhythm, coming hard inside you as he keeps moaning your name over and over again. When his head falls forward and his teeth dig into your shoulder you burst too, the pleaser washing over you in waves.

“Oh fuck! Harry!” He keeps moving, even when he has already ridden down his high, just to make sure you’re fully satisfied. He pushes into you a few more times before he stops, putting you down gently, making sure your legs don’t collapse under you again. He kisses your face wherever he can until his lips meet yours, dragging this kiss a little longer and softer than the once you shared before.

He pulls you under the water and grabs a washcloth from the side, he wets it and gently cleans you up, peppering featherlike kisses to your skin everywhere he goes.

“I hope the way I just screamed your name proves that you’re the only man I want,” you smile at him sheepishly, running your hands up his chest until they rest at the base of his neck.

“M’sorry for being a pain in the ass, I’m just so fucking in love with you, I selfishly want to be the only man that can have the privilege to feel this way for you.”

“And you are,” you chuckle softly, cupping his face in your hands. “Others might find me hot or have a thing for me, but you are the only one who knows me, who sees me like this… who makes me feel like this. I’m all yours, H.”

Breathing out through his nose he captures your lips in another kiss as he pulls you tight against him.

“I love you, baby.”

“Love you too. Now let’s actually shower,” you chuckle, reaching for your shampoo.

Thank you for reading! Please like/reblog if you enjoyed!