#I’m just getting more ridiculous about buying in bulk

[hellbubu]

I’m handsome, tall, and rich

Chapter 18

CW: Juugo kinda gets high off cheongsimwon

Sasuke moisturized his face with a serum mist at his desk. He was alone in his team’s office. He couldn’t concentrate on his work no matter how much he tried, a certain man wouldn’t leave his thoughts.

“Why couldn’t he just ask me out?” Sasuke muttered under his breath.” it’s not like it matters, I’m rejecting him anyway.”

Kakashi stayed in his mind for the next couple of days, no matter what he did. He couldn’t even go grocery shopping without a conversation he once had with Kakashi resurfacing. The bastard even arrived at work at the same time as Sasuke!

Sasuke hid behind a pillar and watched as he walked by. Even just toying with the idea of them in a relationship seemed ridiculous. At the end of the day, they basically lived in completely different worlds.

“We can’t even see the guy’s face.”

Sasuke walked into his office to see the rest crowded around Suigetsu’s phone. He peeked at the screen from over Karin’s shoulder. Someone had taken a picture of him and Kakashi.

“I wonder who he is?”

“Well, he must be super good-looking, have gone to a really good university, or come from money. It’s one or all of those.”

Sasuke mentally ranked himself. Yeah, they were most likely not meant to be. Sasuke would never truly fit in in those boring galas and meetings. And he didn’t want to. He liked his job and spending his money on things that he liked, but being rich isn’t something he necessarily wanted, especially if he had to put up with snobs and assholes like Hinata’s dad.

“We’ll submit the proposal as soon as it’s put together,” Someone said. Kakashi was not quite sure who, his head hasn’t been in the game these past couple of days. He anxiously waited and waited and waited for a call, a text, anything, from Sasuke.

“Stop being so vague and set an exact date!” Kakashi snapped.” Do you even know how painful it is to wait?”

“Sir?” The man sat back down and looked at him. Kakashi didn’t even bother looking at him, he turned his stare back to the documents in front of him.

“Our revenues in the US are rising, but there are other countries competing with us in that market. I believe a more aggressive strategy would be better.” Team leader Uzumaki spoke confidently, had Kakashi not seen the behind-the-scenes videos of that one ad, he’d have thought that this almost hardened front she put on was all there was to her, but after seeing the videos and how close she was to Sasuke, he wondered if she ever saw a side of Sasuke he hadn't had the chance to.

“Korean cuisine gives the impression that it’s homemade and healthy, that’s made with love and care. Let’s use that to make our product stand out.”

“Yes, sir.”

It had been a week since that night and Sasuke had not yet reached out to him. Would it be inappropriate for him to inquire about Sasuke to Uzumaki-nim?

“Is there anything wrong?” Uzumaki-nim asked him.

“Everything’s fine.” Kakashi turned his attention to another team leader,” How’s the package revision plan coming along?”

“We’re currently in talks with our clients to find possible solutions since customers there are used to buying in bulk.”

“Retain the English labeling.”

His phone started buzzing, a call from his father. He declined and carried on with the meeting, he could be scolded by his father some other time.

“Food development teams, please start developing dumplings fit for localization.”

Another call from his father. He put his phone in “Do Not Disturb” mode and leafed through the document.

Something caught his attention. There was a filming proposal for additional content for a recent campaign. Kakashi flipped to the next page. The suggested cast was Food development team 4, it was the perfect opportunity for him to “run into” Sasuke.

“When are the extra shoots for the chef collaborations taking place?”

The gears were turning inside Kakashi’s head. Perhaps if they meet in person, Sasuke will give him an answer.

“Where’s Juugo?” Karin walked into the room with Suigetsu in tow.” The shooting starts like, now.”

“I think he’s in the bathroom.” Sasuke looked up from his monitor.” He said something about being nervous.”

“I’m almost jealous of him.”

“It’s just a promo vid.” Karin rolled her eyes.

“I’d stand out and represent all the researchers here!”

“I heard you don’t even get paid all that much for it,” Sasuke added.

“Why do you always side with Karin?”

“Where were you?” Karin asked a Juugo walked into their office.

“I just went to get some cheongsimwon.”

Juugo looked calmer than before. He was no longer flushed and sweaty and his breathing seemed to be normal.

“Hadn’t you had some a while ago?”

“You’ve barely eaten anything today, is it okay for you to be taking those?”

“I’ll be fine. Let’s just hurry on to the studio.”

Karin and Suigetsu were sitting at a table, waiting for Sasuke and Juugo to come back from the bathroom.

“Hey,” Genma greeted as he walked in. He had a bright orange apron on.

“Aren’t these shoots nice?”

“Yeah. It’s all thanks to you guys.”

“Yeah, you should treat us to a meal next time.”

“By the way, have you guys seen Sasuke?” Genma looked around, there were plenty of people coming in and out of the studio but Sasuke was nowhere to be found.

“He went to the bathroom with Juugo to help him get ready.”

“Suigetsu! Come help me.” Sasuke appeared out of thin air and grabbed Suigetsu’s wrist.

“Wait. Hold on. What happened?”

“Juugo’s kinda,” Sasuke paused for a second,” high, I guess.”

Karin and Genma watched as Suigetsu and Sasuke left for the bathroom.

“Should we help them?”

“Nah. Sasuke’s got a good head on his shoulders and Suigetsu is expendable. They’ll be fine.”

They came back a couple of minutes later, almost carrying Juugo. They helped him into a chair. Juugo almost immediately slumped forward but luckily he folded his arms on the table to cushion his fall.

“ Cheongsimwon’s the best!” Juugo giggled. It’s suuuuuper effective.”

“How much did he take?”

“Like, three?”

“Thr- three?”

“He can’t appear on camera like this!” Karin rubbed her forehead almost like she had a headache.” We’re about to start.”

“I’m not doing it,” Suigetsu said even though he had mentioned how jealous he was of Juugo an hour or so before.

“No one wanted you to.” Karin glared at him before turning to Sasuke.” Sasuke, go get ready.”

“No way.”

“Yes way. You’re friends with Chef Shiranui so there’s chemistry.” Karin then pointed at Suigetsu with her thumb.” Plus who’d want to look at this idiot’s face? Everyone’d rather look at yours.”

“She has a point. You are a visual.” Suigetsu added.

Before he knew it, Sasuke was in front of the camera. Luckily, he still had a few minutes to get his head on the game.

“Are you feeling better?” Genma asked as Sasuke put on his gloves.

“Yeah, it’s been like a week since then.” Sasuke laughed awkwardly.

“Places everyone!” The director called out.

Sasuke took a deep breath. He just had to get through this and then he’d go back to the office and talk shit with Suigetsu. It’s all fine.

“You said you’d wait until he contacted you.” Naruto’s tone was half curious half judgemental.

“I just want a glimpse of his face, then I’ll leave.” Kakashi stood at the doorway and scanned the room. Three-fourths of development team 4 was sitting at a table near him, the tall man that Kakashi recognized from the cabbage video was slumped on the table with Uzumaki-nim and the white-haired man on either side of him, but Sasuke wasn’t with them.” Where is he?”

He scanned the rest of the room. There were the camera people and the director. There was a woman holding a microphone and- was that Sasuke?

“Why are they shooting the video together?” Kakashi fully stepped into the room. Naruto grabbed his arm and dragged him back out.

“Should I go ahead and cut the vegetables while you’re cooking?” Sasuke asked making the motion of a kitchen knife.

“Yes, please.”

“On it.”

“You sure are good with knives, aren’t you?” Genma turned his head to look at Sasuke.

“It’s ‘cause I used to cook with my mom back when I was little.” Sasuke chuckled.” I’ve been her helper since I could hold a knife.”

“That’s sweet.” Genma turned back to what he had been doing.” Are the onions ready?”

“Just give me a moment.” Sasuke reached out to grab another onion and accidentally knocked over a bottle of sauce. As he cut the onion he discreetly looked around the room only for his eyes to meet Kakashi’s. The knife slipped out of his hand. Sasuke let out a noise of surprise.

“Cut!”

“Is that blood?”

“Sasuke, are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” Sasuke turned to look at the crew.” So sorry. I accidentally pressed on the sauce bottle.” He held the bottle up.

Kakashi let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding.

Why is he here? Sasuke thought as he tried to get the stain out of his coat.

He walked out of the bathroom, coat looking almost good as new. Kakashi was waiting for him outside.

“It’s been a while.”

“It has, President Hatake.” Perhaps he could get away with just throwing him some hints and not answering.” By the way, thank you.”

“What for?” Kakashi was looking at him. Had his eyes always been this intense?

“I- I heard that you took care of the guy that filmed Hinata. I’m really grateful for that, Hinata’s like a sister.” Sasuke bowed.

“Chairman Hatake is on his way.” Naruto ran over to them. He waved at Sasuke with a smile on his face before turning to Kakashi.

“What?”

Footsteps could be heard coming down the hall towards them.

“Distract him,” Kakashi told Naruto before grabbing Sasuke’s hand and making a run for it. He led Sasuke through an almost maze of doors.

They hid in a corner, Sasuke against the walls and Kakashi almost covering him from sight.

“Where is he hiding?” They both heard Sakumo’s voice.” Tell him to show his face.”

“Sir, the employees will hear.”

“I want you to go and tell him to start going on the blind dates-” They could hear that Sakumo was closer, just on the other side of the wall.”- if he’s not getting back with Sarutobi-ssi!”

Kakashi and Sasuke shared a look.

The voices of Naruto and Chairman Hatake faded away until they were gone.

“I already told dad we broke up. Better to get it done early.” Kakashi took a step back, putting some distance between himself and Sasuke.” I can’t introduce you as Sasuke Sarutobi forever.”

“You should go on the dates.”

“Are you- are you saying you don’t want to give us a try?” He looked at Sasuke with a looked that almost made Sasuke feel like he’d kicked a puppy.

“Yeah.”

“Is there a reason?”

“Honestly? There are plenty.” Sasuke sighed and looked away.” What would your father think about our situation? About how we met?”

“I’m not asking you what others will think. I only care about what you think.”

“Me too.” Sasuke paused before looking back up at Kakashi.” I can’t see use working out.”

“Be honest with me. Do you really not feel anything?”

Silence.

“I understand.” Kakashi sighed.” Let me try again, then.”

“What?” Sasuke whispered.

�� I like you, Sasuke, a lot. I have feelings for you and I don’t plan on giving up.” Sasuke looked at him with wide eyes.” I’ll keep on asking you until the day you feel the same way.”

“This is just the beginning of us.” Kakashi smiled at Sasuke.

“Why are you so stubborn? You don’t have to make this so difficult!” Sasuke frowned.” I couldn’t stop thinking about you this past week. Now you’re making me doubt if perhaps there’s a future for us even though it’s obvious there isn’t!”

” I’ll do everything in my power to make sure whatever you’re afraid of doesn’t happen.” Sasuke tried to walk past him but Kakashi grabbed him by the shoulders.” Please stay with me.”

Their faces were so close now and the tension was so thick, Sasuke could probably cut it with one of those swords Suigetsu likes to collect. He looked up at Kakashi and, without thinking, pressed his lips to Kakashi’s.

[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​

[the-badger-mole]

So there's definitely the traits about Aang you don't like. If you had the chance, how would you have gone about making sure Aang got called out??

Any other changes about other aspects of the show that you would have done??

OOHHH!!!! There is SO much I would have changed.

Starting with Aang:

Aang should have been called out about not helping Katara with the chores. One of the lessons he should have learned on Kyoshi should have been importance of not leaving one team member to do all of the work (Sokka should have been taught this lesson, too, of course, but at least he was learning other lessons about respect for women in particular). I'm not asking for Aang to face consequences for the sake of making him miserable (although...). What I really want is for him to consider people other than himself in a way that actually leaves a mark on his character and doesn't just make his superficial reputation better.

In Bato of the Water Tribe, he should have been taken more to task over his selfishness in hiding Hakoda's letter. I feel like the danger he put Hakoda's mission in with that bone-headed move gets overlooked in favor of his sadness about the possibility of his friends wanting to take a detour to see their father. Aang gets half an apology for that, but only half an apology, and not to Katara- the one he's supposed to have a romance (???) with.

He should have been called out for lying his way out of actually solving the problem in "The Great Divide". Yes, it was a tough problem, but he's going to have to solve even harder ones as the Avatar. Not even lightly chiding him for taking the easy way out doesn't bode well for how well he's going to do at his job in the future.

The fact that he was instrumental in the deaths of several Fire Nation soldiers in the Siege of the North should have been the beginning of his understanding of what he's expected to do to end this war that's been going on for a hundred years. He should feel some guilt over the war that's been going on for a hundred years. Even if ultimately he's not centrally to blame for either, neither could have happened without him making the decisions he made. I can understand it not occurring to Aang on his own that he played a part in (lets be honest) millions of deaths, but it should have dawned on him through context clues what the world- what his friends!- expected of him. He should have been looking for a non-lethal solution to the Ozai problem from the beginning of Book 2 at the latest! The way his reluctance to kill Ozai plays out in the show makes Aang look inexcusably stupid, unbelievably short-sighted, and dangerously selfish.

He should have been brought to task for how he treated his friends- especially Toph- in the desert. Yes, it's understandable that he was upset about losing Appa, but he took his anger out on his friends. That's not ok. He should have apologized. We should have seen him apologize. It wasn't Toph's fault Appa was taken. She didn't deserve that.

Katara should have had more of a voice in her relationship with Aang. He forced kisses on her twice, and aside from avoiding talking to him about feelings, Katara doesn't get to tell him how she actually feels about him, about them, about the fact that he doesn't respect her enough to talk to her about how he felt before he even thought about trying to kiss her. I hate Kataang, and there is no version of that ship that I would actually like (at it's best it's boring), HOWEVER, there is a version of Kataang that could have been less infuriating, and it's the version where Aang realizes how selfish he's been with Katara and apologizes, and then actually puts in the work to be more respectful of her. Not to get the reward of her affection for doing something he should have been doing in the first place (*ahembrykeahem*), but because he actually sees the error of his ways and his need to change for himself. Then maybe, after Aang had put in actual work on himself, maybe his "romance" with Katara could have worked, and Katara would have actually had a chance to thrive after getting with him.

The war should have had more of an impact on Aang. As the Avatar, he should have seen more people suffering under the Fire Nation's campaign of imperialism. Sure he sees refugees and even spends a couple of days getting to know a pregnant lady, but it never seems like he makes the connection between the abstract evil of the war and the real world suffering it caused. It never seems to sink in for him how bad things are. Like not even for his friends. Not even for Katara specifically, the girl he allegedly loves.

There are more things I would have changed about Aang, but this is already long, so moving on!

As for the rest of the show:

I would have spent less time on Aang and his feelings and done more with the world building. There is a ridiculously small amount of time dedicated to the Water Tribe cultures. Most of Book 1: Water is spent in the Earth kingdom! Why??? Most of the main cast is from the Southern Water Tribe! Then there's the question of the Air Nomads. A total annihilation of a people group is incredibly unlikely. Closer to impossible. It hasn't even happened in our world, and the European colonist had raised murder and genocide to an art form. You mean to tell me that not only did the Fire Nation manage to murder millions of people to complete extinction, they did it in a day? Seriously??? I'm not buying it.

Speaking of the Air Nomads, even if they decided not have any other air benders in the show (but seriously, why not?), there was no reason not to explore their culture a little more. There could have been history texts in those temples they visited. Aang could have discovered some scrolls on defensive air bending forms. Guru Pathik could have been less racist given more time to explain at least a bit of the nuance of Air Nomad culture and philosophy. Aang has a 12 year old's understanding of Air Nomad culture and philosophy. What could you tell anyone about your culture or your religious beliefs at 12? Maybe you'd absorbed a lot by then, but to be able to accurately explain either to someone who didn't already know? Well, we get the bulk of Air Nomad philosophy from Aang- the kid who couldn't even acknowledge that his own people had killed in self-defense.

Toph, Sokka, Suki, and, yes Katara should have been given more development and had more care shown to their inner workings. Aang and Zuko have way more time devoted to them (though the time spent on Zuko had more plot impact than Aang's). The other members of the Gaang deserved more shine, too. Especially Toph.

Obviously, I think Katara and Zuko should have ended up together, but I've written so much about that, so I'm going to end this here, because it's late and I still need to get ready for bed.

[spookierdeer]

here’s the mane 6 all together. i went through a couple edits of them until i was happy with them and i think i’m finally set on them now!

fun facts below the cut

when they move in together, fluttershy stocks up on lint rollers. not for fur or dust that you’d expect to see due to her veterinary practice, but because pinkie tends to leave a trail of glitter and confetti. this is especially noticable when she’s bouncing around.

pinkie is an earth pony born with latent chaos magic. this is really rare and exhibited itself in strange ways when she was a foal. as a grown mare, she can control it better, even if it still catches people off guard on occasion.

fluttershy is a flutter pony purely because i heard jenny nicholson talk about it once and i got it stuck in my head. she’s very tall however, super willowy compared to earth ponies (as are most flutter ponies).

fluttershy is taller than both rarity and starlight glimmer, but it’s hard to tell as she keeps her head down and this makes her appear slightly smaller.

fluttershy runs the ponyville vet clinic and is an animal whisperer. she also patches up her more rambunctious friends from time to time.

fluttershy is the begrudging midwife to her friends because some of them are ridiculous and don’t go to the doctor when they should. she is very tired and deserves every cup of coffee she makes them buy her after the fact.

the flutter pony gene is more dominant than most other species genes, so if any non flutter pony and a flutter pony have a foal, it usually ends up being a flutter pony. the only exception are kirin.

rainbow dash is a trans mare

rainbow is the second shortest of the mane 6, barely taller than pinkie. don’t mention it or she’ll destroy your knee caps.

rainbow can also pack away calories like nopony else. do not challenge her to an eating contest or you’ll end up sick and regretting it.

apple jack is average earth pony height which means she’s dwarfed by her flutter and unicorn friends. twilight is on the smaller side of unicorns (as sunset shimmer).

aj is a disaster lesbian. she’s tripped into mud quite a few times around pretty mares. no, she does not want to talk about it.

aj is also well known in ponyville and beyond for being one of the best no holds barred wrestlers around. before she became a mom, she also did some mud wrestling. once she had her foals, she put that behind her if only because it took time away from farm work she didn’t have; she’s still jacked, however.

twilight sparkle is a hornless unicorn, a very rare birth defect. she had to deal with a lot of bullying growing up because of how mules and donkies tend to be the butt of the joke to the average pony. she also had to deal with her tail being stepped on a lot, so as an adult she keeps it tucked to her side.

despite her lack of horn, twilight still has magic abilities. they can be very wild and hard to control due to not having a horn conduit. she spends most of her young life learning how to handle this and becomes one of the most learned unicorns of her time.

twilight is asexual/demiromantic.

rarity is 1/4th mule and gets her long ears from her dad’s side of the family. this has been a topic of rumor amongst the other fashion moguls and like of manehatten. some have even gone so far as to say her horn is fake and other ridiculous claims. rarity would originally just scoff and act as if she couldn’t possibly be related to a mule, but eventually learns her lesson friendship story style after hearing similar rumors about twilight.

the two go on to help stop uhh fuckin discrimination against mules and donkies i guess?? holy shit i didn’t mean to make it a racial allegory but here i am fuck dude, anyway

on a different note, twilight is in a polyam relationship with rainbow dash and tempest shadow. she loves both her girls very much.

rarity is a disaster bi, but in a different way than apple jack. rarity is accidentally an embarrassing asshole to cute ponies and this is what lead to a lot of fights between rarity and other members of the mane 6. the only one who almost never took it to heart was pinkie because she could tell just how embarrassed rarity felt and that she wasn’t doing rude things intentionally. pinkie and eventually fluttershy help rarity stop being such a dunce around cute ponies.

rarity eventually stops dying her grey hair away. she does it out of anxiety, but eventually aj and her friends help her relax a little and understand that going grey isn’t going to mean she isn’t beautiful.

bonus fun facts about other characters i’ve drawn, but haven’t listed here:

tempest shadow is blind in one eye.

lyra and bonbon are happily married.

angel has a love/hate relationship with pinkie. she’s so nice and knows how to brush angel just right, but the mare is taking cuddle time with fluttershy away >:(

starlight glimmer is the only voice i have a headcanon for and it’s heather mcnamara from the off broadway production of heathers. (example)

sunset shimmer is the shortest unicorn i’ve designed so far. she’s shorter than pinkie pie and is an absolute bitch. (i love her.) she is also married to starlight glimmer; they are the bitchy moms at PTA meetings who will destroy you <3

derpy hooves is named ditzy doo in my au. she’s a postpony and scrunchie collector.

dr hooves is named tick turner and he makes and repairs watches and clocks.

bulk biceps is a personal trainer. he breaks his coffee mugs a lot.

ditzy, tick, and bulk biceps are all dating each other in a polyam relationship. for their anniversary, ditzy and tick bought bulk some super nice metal cast mugs; bulk ended up crying a little because he’s a big emotional baby. they love him.

if uve read it this far thank u for listening 2 me. plz talk to me about my ponies i love them <3

[jisungsmochi]

held by me - zhong chenle

chenle x reader - college au (part of my nct dream as the vamps songs series) you can read more here ! 

word count: 2.5k 

summary: “we’re both under ceilings staring up sharing feelings, you should be held by me”

chenle from next door was always inviting you over to hang out with him. you would kindly agree, building a strong friendship with the cheery boy. but there was one secret being hidden by the both of you, the undeniable feeling that you were both helplessly inlove with the other. so what happens during the night of a thunderstorm, that has you both shaking?

//

you remembered the first day you moved into your apartment building. your parents were practically kicking you out, claiming you were old enough to fend for yourself against the outside world while you were studying. although they did help you find the apartment and made the down payment, you were glad to finally live independently. there were things you didn’t really know how to do, but that’s what youtube and google were for. 

you first met your next door neighbour, chenle, when there was an emergency fire evacuation. it was just past midnight when the alarm went off. you rushed outside, only in your pajamas and bunny slippers, hair disheveled. chenle caught sight of you, internally giggling at your current state. your eyes widened at him, you had never seen him before, even though it had been about two weeks since you moved in. he gestured for you to walk with him to the lobby, waiting for the alarm to stop ringing. you quickly followed his footsteps, entrusting him with guiding you to safety. he stopped once you reached the front desk, observing the ridiculous residents complaining about their interrupted sleep.

the guy living next door, stayed close by to you, not saying a word. you didn’t mind how close he decided to stand near you, it made you feel comfortable, in some odd way.

“okay everyone! it was a false alarm! there was no fire detected. you may now return to your rooms, we are sorry for any inconvenience” the apartment complex manager announced, as you watched everyone scatter back to their rooms. some were grunting, still unhappy with the sudden wailing of the sirens. the boy urged you to follow him again, walking in silence as you made it back to your rooms. the boy stopped for a moment, as if he wanted to say something, but you beat him to it,

“hey wanna come in for some tea? i don’t think i’ll be falling back asleep anytime soon” you kindly offer, watching as his face lit up in delight. he nodded gently, following you into your apartment. you switched on the lights, making your way to your kitchen to turn on the kettle.

“so i never got your name, i’m y/n” you started preparing the mugs,

“i’m chenle, i live next door, as you know now” he finally spoke, catching you off guard.

“ah yes, i would have introduced myself when i first moved in, but unpacking and starting college just got in the way” you explained as you poured warm water into each of your mugs, bringing them over to chenle as you sat next to him on the bar stools by your counter. he thanked you softly, blowing the drink cautiously before taking a sip.

“it’s alright, i should have come by first! i just wasn’t sure how to do so” he shyly admitted, making you smile.

“well we’re both here now, who would have thought! do you live alone?” you asked,

“uh yeah i do, my parents actually bought me the apartment, something about wanting me to be independent and a proper adult” he slightly rolled his eyes at the last part, making you nod,

“same here! they really wanted me out of the house, so here i am” you shrugged.

the rest of the night was spent chatting away, the both of you suddenly couldn’t stop talking. chenle found you entertaining, he never thought he’d be chatting with a random girl who lived next door after a false fire alarm. this was going to be the start of a beautiful friendship.

//

a few weeks later, chenle woke up to banging on his front door. there was only one person he knew that would be awake at 7am, voluntarily. as he opened the door, he saw your bright smile greeting his tired eyes. he allowed you to enter his apartment, still grumbling that he was tired.

“oh shush, i need some more toilet paper” you quickly made your way to his bathroom, snagging some rolls for yourself.

“you know you can just buy your own? they’re always on sale!” chenle grumbled, moving to lay down on his couch, waiting for you to return.

“where’s the resourcefulness in that? you always buy them in bulk, and you’re the only one who lives here. sharing is caring right?” you greedily smirked as you sat down next to him, your tote bag full of toilet paper rolls. chenle moves to sit up next to you, finally feeling more awake.

“so what are we gonna do today? i’m thinking we can get some lunch, maybe go to the park or something?” you started rambling, too energised in the morning.

“can we just stay in? i’m not in the mood to go out today” chenle softly pouted at you, making you immediately agree. how could you say no to that face?

“sure, i’ll make pancakes for breakfast” you softly squeezed his shoulder and he leant into your touch. most of the affection between you, were in the form of soft (platonic) touches, and words of affirmation. chenle filled the void of loneliness you thought you would experience whilst living alone. you’d hang out in his apartment almost everyday, claiming that you were too lonely or you were bored. chenle never opposed, enjoying your company, and your cooking skills. sometimes his friends would make sly comments and tease him about always hanging out with you, but he didn’t mind. it didn’t really matter what others said, he just enjoyed being around you, it didn’t mean he had to feel something more...yet.

“here we are!” you hand him the beautifully plated pancakes as you both started munching on the delicious pancakes.

“dude, these are amazing. can you live her permanently? i need a personal chef” chenle teased, causing you to shove him lightly.

“you’re rich enough to find a chef, unless...you wanna pay me?” you smirked as he rolled his eyes.

“doesn’t your job pay you enough?” he shot back, causing you to act fake offended,

“i work at the dingy cafe on campus, i’m not exactly living large” you continue to nibble on your pancakes.

sometimes you had thought about what it’d be like to live with chenle. you had spent a few odd nights at his apartment, as he had a spare bedroom. you didn’t mind the idea at all, but you didn’t want people getting the wrong idea that you two were more than friends. there was always that one concern at the back of your mind. the natural flow of your friendship with chenle was something you had never had with anyone else. the people you met at college just didn’t click the same as you did with chenle the first time you met. he was special to you, but if anyone ever asked you that, you’d deny it, playfully responding that he’s just a friend. chenle felt the same way, just because you two were close, didn’t mean he was inlove with you.

could he see himself being with you? yes. he could. but at this moment in time? no. you were both not fond of relationships, feeling immense pressure to constantly be perfect or make eachother happy. by staying friends, it avoided all the conflict that couples had. and no one would get hurt. but the thing about love, is that you don’t really get to choose who you fall inlove with.

you realised this when you saw a girl approach chenle while he was studying at the cafe you worked at. you assumed she was just a classmate but when you saw her sit across from him, softly touching his arm, you started feeling uneasy. who were you to be thinking these things? he could see whoever he wanted.

you saw how he responded, shyly reacting to her words, laughing at her jokes. you wanted to look away, you wanted to go up to him and pull him away. but you couldn’t.

the rest of the day was spent thinking back to what you had witnessed. you didn’t want to bring it up with chenle, incase he questioned why you were even watching him in the first place. chenle insisted he stay until you closed, waiting to walk home with you. when he said things like this, or made these gestures, you thought that meant he cared about you, as more than a friend. but you had been watching way too many kdramas lately, he was just being nice. it started pouring rain as you exited the cafe, you let out a soft grunt before chenle stepped in with his umbrella.

“i got you, let’s go” he smiled softly, walking close to you as he held the umbrella above the both of you. sounds of thunder rang through your ears. chenle became worried, he knew you hated thunderstorms. as you reached your apartments, chenle pulled his hand to grab your wrist,

“wanna stay the night?” he insisted, your heart swelled at his words. why did he have to be so considerate?

you slowly nodded, following him into his apartment. chenle set down his keys, before helping you remove your damp jacket. he rushed to his room, pulling out a spare set of clothes for you to sleep in. you liked how you barely said anything to him, and he just knew exactly what to do. you couldn’t fault him at all.

“how was your day?” chenle started chatting to you, wanting to get your mind off the storm outside. you were both sitting on his bed, each at one end while facing eachother.

“it was decent, i finished my group project! and work was okay, not much happened” you felt yourself avoid his eyes after mentioning work. chenle noticed, eyes furrowing at your actions.

“are you alright? is something wrong?” he moved closer to you, eyes filled with concern. why does he have to do this?

“everything’s fine, i swear” you quickly shut him down, moving off his bed.

“okay something is definitely up, why can’t you tell me?” he stood up to stand across from you. why the hell were you being like this? just tell him how you feel.

“i-it’s nothing, can we just move on?” you continued being stubborn, something that chenle had picked up on. you really could put up a fight.

“alright, if you don’t wanna talk, it’s fine. just don’t push me away” he sighed, moving to tuck himself into bed. his back ended up facing you as you joined him soon after. you turned your back to him, feeling embarrassed about the entire situation. why couldn’t you just admit you were jealous? why was it so hard to admit to yourself?

silence filled the room, the storm outside becoming background noise. until a loud boom of thunder hit, causing you to shake. chenle felt it instantly, turning back to you. he saw how you were shivering, your hands coming up to cover your ears. he gently placed his hand over yours, pulling them away from your ears. you turned to face him, eyes slowly tearing up. he wiped the tear that fell from them, pulling you into him.

“it’s alright, you’re going to be alright” he muttered as he held you close to him. no matter how irritated he got with you sometimes, seeing you so vulnerable like this made his heart ache.

“i was jealous today” you suddenly admit, feeling chenle freeze against you. he looked down at your face, feeling your cheeks slowly heat up.

“w-what are you talking about?” he moved to there was a small distance between your faces.

“i saw you with that girl at the cafe. she wouldn’t stop talking to you. and she squeezed your shoulder, like how i do! it annoyed me” you shyly admit, watching as his lips slowly cocked up into a smirk. was he really enjoying this?

“you were really jealous of her? she’s just a classmate, i gave her some of my notes for class, and she thanked me today. it was nothing, i swear” he assured you, feeling amused that you cared about him, enough to get jealous. you felt like an idiot, of course that’s all it was.

“o-oh my bad then” you whispered, feeling embarrassed. but chenle was quick to interject,

“hey it’s alright. you didn’t know. i’m kind of flattered that you were jealous” he started gently brushing his fingers through your hair.

“ugh i knew you were gonna get an ego boost!” you sighed, snuggling closer to him.

“you know you love me” he jokingly strikes back, feeling your arms slowly untangle from him torso. he immediately stopped what he was doing, looking into your eyes deeply.

“i-i do” you whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear. but he definitely heard you clearly.

“really?” was all he managed to say back. that was not the response you were expecting.

“yeah, i do” you confirmed to both chenle and yourself. the truth was finally out.

“woah, that’s...a relief” he smiled slightly at you, “i thought i was the fool who was hopelessly inlove with you” your eyes practically popped out of your head.

“w-what? you’re kidding, right?” you couldn’t believe the words that left his mouth.

“oh yeah i’m totally kidding. that’s why i offer to walk you home after work, even when it’s inconvenient for my schedule. that’s why i always ask you to come over and keep me company. that’s why i’m here with you right now, protecting you from one of your biggest fears. it’s because i’m totally not inlove with you” chenle playfully responded, causing you to hit his chest softly.

“i don’t know who’s the bigger idiot. you or me?” you giggled,

“definitely you, how could you love someone as lame and goofy as me?” you knew chenle was partially joking, but you still felt like he didn’t fully believe your feelings for him.

“you’re most definitely not lame, you’re so special to me. even if i don’t admit it to you sometimes. you mean the world to me” you whispered to him, feeling your lips inch closer to his. you felt heat rise to his cheeks as you gently cupped his face in your palm. chenle couldn’t contain how giddy you made him feel, closing the gap between you both. you felt his lips mould effortlessly with yours. soft sounds of your lips clashing together, distracted you from the storm. because chenle was your umbrella, shielding you from the storm of the outside world. he was all you needed to get through your youth. moving into the apartment was one of the best decisions of your life. you met someone who had your back during the hard times, always laughing with you during the good times. someone who held you close, too scared of losing you. you never intended to fall for your next door neighbour, but things happen. you couldn’t imagine a world where chenle wasn’t by your side, he became your entire world. and nothing couldn’t ever amount to you in his eyes.

[castle-dimitrescu]

Duke x Alcina hcs because I have neverending brainrot (and yes I actually ship this)

The duke ADORES Alcina so fucking much it's ridiculous

He can't help but admire her

They only use pet names. If they say each other's real names you know something is VERY wrong

Duke will BATHE Alcina in compliments

She just soaks up his love and smothers him in kisses

When they cuddle the duke just worships her every curve and imperfection

Her crow's feet and laugh lines make him MELT

He runs his hands up and down the curves of her hips over and over cus he just loves them so much

It's not even sexual admiration he just thinks her whole body is a masterpiece

Even the rolls of her belly when she sits down make him melt

"Darling if only I could do justice to your body by painting it, but unfortunately I don't have the hands of a god"

He finds new poetic ways to describe her beauty

She just adores it so much

She loves his chubby little cheeks so much

She loves cupping them in her hands and just gazing at him

She loves smothering his face in kisses

Cus whenever she does it he gets all red in the face and giddy with joy

He makes sure to use super good quality chapstick and lip balm so his lips are perfectly soft because "I need to make sure my lips are worthy of being kissed by a goddess"

He buys her GORGEOUS dresses and has them custom-tailored to her

She just absolutely spoiled by him

But don't worry she returns the favor

Cus they believe in gender equality >:3

She gives him tons of affection and kisses

She buys gorgeous smelling candles for him

She makes his FAVORITE wines and buys his favorite liquors

She sings to him and plays piano for him

They're very classy about their relationship tho

They keep public displays of affection to a minimum and you would never guess they were in love, just very respectful of each other

But when they're alone?

THEY LOVE BIRDS

The daughters have gotten used to it and even treat the duke like their dad

They call him "papa" "dad" even some goofy nicknames

Dani calls him "pug" cus he reminds her of a chubby pug

One of Alci's nicknames for him is "munchkin"

They behave a lot like Gomez and Morticia Adams

Just the purest most affectionate form of love

They love tasting wines together

He loves making her laugh

they love playing games together like poker or blackjack but mainly chess

cus they're both REAAAALLY good at it and they love trash-talking and flirting

sometimes they combine trash talk and flirting and the result is BIZARRE

it's so fun to watch them play chess tho cus they have the BEST comebacks

watching them play speed chess is fucking WILD

it's like watching a battle between two master boxers

but it's an intense battle of witts

they both speak TONS of different languages and they often speak to each other in them just cus they can

the duke's favorite is french and Italian

they also like learning dead or dying languages like Somali and Irish and old scots

Alcina serenades the duke in old french and Latin and it MELTS HIS HEART

there's also a song in Irish Gaelic called "Mo Ghille Mear" (my gallant hero) that Alcina loves singing for him cus it's just so fucking gorgeous

let's say they're in an au where they know about technology and video games

they love playing intellectual strategy games together

like civilization 6 is one of their faves

Alcina always chooses a cultural victory and the duke tries to go for a scientific victory

idk if any of yall know what the fuck I'm talking about but oh well lol

They also have a survival world on Minecraft together

They love building huge ornate builds together

like they have a home base that's a recreation of Castle Dimitrescu

Alcina does the bulk of the mining and hunting for resources and duke does the bulk of the building

I've exhausted myself from the excitement this gave me but I might post more hcs if yall like these. Hell, I might start doing those hc list things some blogs do where people send an ask requesting hcs for a ship. Hope you like these cus I shared them with a discord server and they loved them so much i just had to share them with you guys.

[willidleaway]

OK, let’s talk about Deltarune Chapter 2. Right off the bat two things:

Toby Fox could have been charging 20 USD for this or asked people to pre-purchase the remaining chapters to play Chapter 2, and I’m frankly very surprised (if delighted) that he didn’t.

Soundtrack’s bopping. If you don’t feel like playing two free chapters of a game, which by themselves will give you nine hours of a brilliant time in an absolutely insane world filled with mad characters that all still manages to hold together somehow, I can still recommend giving the OST a listen and then a buy if you are so inclined.

And with that and the spoiler-free lead image out of the way, let’s actually (largely incoherently) talk about Deltarune Chapter 2 below the Read More line. Spoilers galore, including for a bonus enemy ...

OK, so this guy is still a card:

But some non-positive observations to begin with: the Castle Town is nice to look at but maybe a bit uninteresting for the moment, since it’s a completely separate Dark World from the main underworld of Chapter 2. It seems perhaps like a decent hub world for people who haven’t replayed the previous chapter and need some refreshers, especially with the dojo challenges. But some of the other mechanics associated with the Castle Town like recruiting, fusing items, and so forth are as yet unclear. But perhaps it hints at more interaction between chapters through the Castle Town.

And that’s all the non-positive observations I have about Deltarune Chapter 2. It’s not even a negative observation, just taking note of potential seeds being planted for the remainder of the game.

Now. Now now now now now.

I don’t know how Toby Fox manages to continue coming up with such a diverse array of antagonists all so ridiculous and insane in their own special way, but he continues to outdo himself. And not only is Queen insane but so is literally everything that happens in Cyber City and then in Queen’s Mansion, like the layers of truces across Queen and her quasi-willing peons:

and indeed, ye Triumphant Returne of Rouxls Kaard, absolute card:

But the madcap side of things doesn’t mean there isn’t real attention to fleshing out everything introduced in Chapter 1, in tandem on both the narrative side and the gameplay side. As far as the latter, we can (finally) get party members other than Kris to undertake at least basic standard non-magical actions on their own that don’t cost Tension Points, which is very much welcome. But at the same time managing TP well is even more important than before. A lot of careful grazing makes certain fights a great deal easier, in a way that I didn’t really notice for most of Chapter 1 (with the possible exception of Jevil, who I still haven’t successfully pacified). The attacks are correspondingly far denser and often don’t leave too much margin for error, but as someone with minimal hand-eye coordination I still had a reasonable time completing Chapter 2.

Well, except for one particular enemy.

oh god this fight used up every single recovery item I had

Spamton NEO is an interesting enemy, arguably more so than Jevil, and I’m not just saying that because I managed to spare Spamton but still haven’t had any success with Jevil. For one, finding the pieces of the key for Jevil’s cell is straightforward, whereas finding the Empty Disk for Spamton is itself a nightmarish dodge-fest. But more importantly, you actively have to seek Jevil out in Chapter 1, whereas your first encounter with Spamton is actually mandatory as part of the main story and then you optionally follow up on Spamton’s lead later to be able to face off against his NEO form.

Perhaps relevant to the forced nature of Spamton’s introduction is his relevance to Deltarune as a whole despite his bonus boss status. Compared to Jevil’s dialogue, Spamton’s babblings seem far more directly tied to the central themes of Deltarune around choice or agency, or rather a lack thereof (in stark contrast to Undertale’s general ethos). Jevil mostly just wants to wreak mischief and chaos; Spamton is fuelled by a need for freedom, to no longer be a puppet of ... something. And facing him in this way obviously clearly affects Kris, whose own free will is in real question ...

Oh yes, it seems now we’re really getting into the real core of Deltarune’s story, with all of the lore about the Roaring and more talk of the Knight leading up to this ending. But are Kris and the Knight one and the same? Or is Kris a puppet of the Knight? Or ... is it even the other way around? (No idea if that makes any sense but it sounds like a cool thing to throw out there.)

And another thing: this staticky smile ...

I would guess that’s Chapter 3′s boss once we actually go through this new Dark World, but why does this static remind me of the static you see behind Spamton’s glasses in some of his creepier shop dialogue? Maybe I’m reading too much into it, but there’s certainly an embarrassment of riches to over-analyse, even around Chapter 2′s bonus boss.

And I haven’t even talked about every other character being amazing. Susie of course continues to undergo really positive development, but Noelle seems to get the bulk of the attention honestly—we not only get her to finally interact with Susie, but we also learn more about her past as well her family, both about her lost sister (strongly implied to be named December) and her mother. The latter we get not only through more dialogue with her father Rudy but also in an implicit sense through her interactions with Queen, which may well mirror her fractious relationship with an overbearing mother.

Ralsei’s characterisation doesn’t try to expand as much, instead continuing to detail what’s already been planted throughout Chapter 1—his rule of the Castle Town, his awareness of the danger posed by the potential dark/light imbalance, and so forth—but nothing quite as revelatory as with Noelle. It doesn’t mean I can’t try my best to ship Kris with Ralsei though ...

Anyway, fluffy boys and mean girls aside, it’s also nice to see characters like Berdly—who seemed like a completely incidental one-note gag character in Chapter 1—get fleshed out with reasonably compelling (although obviously insane) motivation and backstory, and one wonders which other characters may get this sort of treatment in future.

Speaking of other characters as well, how cute and/or cool are all of the new enemies and enemy-adjacent characters???

Part of me suspects Tasque Manager in particular is actually carefully engineered to break the Internet. But my favourite is Swatch, who gives off weirdly Tuxedo Mask-esque vibes to me:

And an additional bit of speculation: I strongly suspect we’ll see some persistent things across the chapters that aren’t necessarily linear in progression. When I brought Spamton’s shadow crystal to Seam, they basically chided me for not having Jevil’s crystal (for god’s sake Seam it’s not for lack of trying), but then said this:

Is it possible that the game’s keeping track of certain global things outside of any of your individual saves, and some of these certain global things might not just have to do with optional bonuses ... ? Is it possible that some of these certain global things may enable cross-chapter nonlinear gameplay to accompany all of the other Castle Town mechanics introduced in Chapter 2?

Or do I just not want to replay all of Chapter 2 if I manage to pacify Jevil?

Time will tell. How much time?

Only time will tell on that front too, I guess.

Overall: Chapter 2 of Deltarune is another spectacular episode in Toby Fox fleshing out this unbelievable yet somehow credible world in his madcap way, and you can bet I will be watching for future chapters with great interest.

PS: I finished Chapter 2 of Deltarune to have a good time and I’m honestly feeling so attacked right now—

look expiration dates are important okay

[mrspanky]

I’m a hairstylist and today I deduced what hair product each batboy stockpiles.

After being inspired by this scene in Teen Titans Go:

It dawned on me that all the batfam DEFINITELY horde hair supplies because they always need them at the last moment before going out on patrol, and don’t have time to keep up with getting them regularly.

I’m talking ridiculous bulk orders.

....That they definitely all try to hide from eachother.

First up is Bruce. He’s a man of necessity, but he’s also a man of drama (and a billionaire) , so he definitely has Alfred buy him Oribe Rock Hard Gel. It’s luxury, and it fits his aesthetic because the bottle is sleek and all black, so he can look at it in the bathroom while he’s getting ready in the morning and brood quite nicely. Also it’s got a ton of hold so he probably wears it patrolling too tbh. Can’t take the high class Wayne out of the vigilante.

Next we have Dick. Bruce probably bought him the same gel he uses while Dick lived at the manor, but after moving out, he probably just goes for a drugstore brand. My best bet is that he uses this stuff. It’s called ECOCO Style Gel and it comes in a big green tub like the ones from the episode. It’s practically like glue and it definitely lasts through patrol. He might later upgrade to an Aussie mouse when he’s a little more mature and has longer hair, but the man likes to keep it surprisingly simple. The TIME he spends on it though is another story.

I’m convinced that Jason doesn’t use product and doesn’t do his hair unless bribed but he DOES however horde black hair dye, this one to be exact, by manic panic because it’s fairly cheap and pretty much impossible to ruin because it doesn’t last more than 6 weeks at max. I feel like the color is just a little darker than his natural color though so instead of just coloring his white streak, I feel like I can see him just covering his entire head with the stuff.

Tim also uses Aussie Mouse. He’s chill about his hair, but like. I wouldn’t touch it if I were you because your WILL get a withering look. Jason musses it up all the time and it’s caused several arguments.

Damian uses Aveda’s Pure Performance Firm Hold Gel because it’s all natural and cruelty free which is a big deal to him. Also it makes him look cool pretty easily and doesn’t take a ton of effort. Also it smells fresh and earthy and he’s deceivingly highly aware of his hygiene so he likes that it smells clean.

[tumbleweed-palmer]

Adorable: Jimmy Palmer X Reader

Jimmy was in a barbershop quartet group in college. Reader finds that kind of adorable which means she finds it kind of hot too.

=======

Y/N has always known her boyfriend is a little bit of an oddball. Their first meeting kind of hinted at it. They’d met at a coffee shop and he’d accidentally spilled his rather large iced coffee on her.

As he’d dabbed her off with a ridiculous amount of napkins apologizing frantically he’d joked that at least it wasn’t hot coffee as he’d once had to see a cadaver who’d had a pretty nasty past injury from a coffee burn…then, of course, he had to clear his comment up by explaining that he definitely wasn’t a psychopath and was only an assistant to the medical examiner for NCIS…and then he’d gone on to explain exactly what NCIS was….it was by far the strangest conversation Y/N had ever had in her life.

Most people might have run screaming after that conversation, but there was something so adorable about Jimmy Palmer that Y/N couldn’t help but to like him even with his awkward conversation choices.

So she’d quite smoothly offered to buy him a coffee to replace the one he’d spilled and he’d quite awkwardly claimed he should be the one buying her something…after all he’d soaked her dress. Of course, then it had hit him that she was trying to flirt with him and he’d agreed to the coffee…but only if he could at least buy her a muffin.

They’d had their first date right then and there. It had been nice, even if Y/N’s dress had been a little sticky from Jimmy’s amazingly sugary iced coffee choice. Jimmy had listened entranced with her even as she discussed her less than exciting job working at a bank. Jimmy easily had a way of making her feel like the most interesting person on the planet. It was something she adored about him from the very start. She had felt that his career was far more interesting though a little odd. Still though even with the more morbid aspect of his career, Y/N had been pretty smitten with him from the start, and much to her relief he had been just as infatuated with her.

After that first date, they’d become inseparable. Their relationship has progressed to the point of her meeting his mother and he meeting her parents. They’d even moved in together and had both begun to hint at marriage being a possibility sooner than later.

Living with Jimmy didn’t mean Y/N was any less surprised by his oddness though.

This, however, was the last thing Y/N expected to come home to.

She’d entered the apartment, she shared with Jimmy, staring down at her cell phone with a shopping bag in hand. It had been an uneventful Saturday and although Y/N would have much rather spent it inside with her boyfriend, errands still needed to be taken care of. So she’d spent her morning running by the post office and then the bank and finally the farmers market.

She dropped her shopping bags off in the kitchenette calling out for Jimmy frowning when she didn’t get a response. Surely he hadn’t been called away for work, he was good about calling her if he was being called away.

His work schedule had been a little strange to wrap her brain around. It was an odd schedule, but she made the most of the time they had together.

She made her way to the bedroom widening her eyes as she spotted him. She almost pinched herself to make sure this wasn’t all some weird dream.

Her boyfriend stood in front of the mirror in a full-on barber quartet outfit straw hat included.

Jimmy turned to smile at her not seeming to be thrown off by the disbelief on her face. “Oh I didn’t hear you come in, So, what do you think? I’m really surprised it still fits. It’s actually a little loose, I guess I’ve lost weight since college, must be because I started hitting the gym. I’ve bulked up a little since then, so honestly, I thought it’d be too tight.”

Y/N cleared her throat her brow furrowed. “I-I uh, what? Why?”

Jimmy smiled even brighter still seeming unfazed by his girlfriend’s confusion. “Oh, my old barbershop quartet group is talking about having a reunion show. I guess I never told you about it. We were called the P B & Js. I was the second J. It’s been years, I hope I can still hit the right notes.”

Y/N nodded her head slowly taking in this information. She had to admit there was something kind of adorable about all of this. This was unexpected, but then again there were a lot of things about Jimmy that were unexpected.

She couldn’t stop the fond feeling from washing over her at how proud he looked of himself as he stared back in the mirror clearly ecstatic about this all.

Ugh, why was he so adorable? She mentally groaned knowing that this was always her downfall. Any time she focused on how adorable he was she couldn't stop that familiar hot wave of desire from running through her.

She almost wanted to psychoanalyze herself at times…did she have some kind of kink for him being so adorable?

She took a deep breath knowing she had two choices, either walk away and forget this or jump his bones and accept that the sight of him being so adorable did it for her.

She made up her mind making her way over to him leaning up and allowing her lips to slide along his neck her fingers tracing the ridiculous bright red vest that went along with his outfit.

Jimmy felt his cheeks flush a familiar wave of lust hitting him just as hard as it hit her.

He spoke his voice rising a pitch as she littered his neck with kisses. “If I’d known you had a thing for barbershop quartets I might have broken this out sooner.”

Y/N managed to let out a laugh her lips meeting his she taking his hands in hers leading him to their bed.

She spoke as she shoved him down wasting zero time straddle his lap her lips pressing to his neck once again as she spoke. “Trust me I’m just as surprised by it as you, pretty sure I just have a thing for you though. The outfit is just a nice bonus.”

Jimmy smiled leaning back taking everything she was willing to give. He spoke as she began to unfasten the buttons to his shirt. “I can perform one of our songs later…if you want.”

She spoke as she began to work her way down his body her comment making him smile all the more. “I want.”

[adorehs]

undercover

Hello! Welcome to a very chaotic story.. I really cannot accurately describe all that happens. Heavy influences from Quantico which I have been watching and the American Assassin series which I have began reading.

For @majorharry​‘s #majorharry20k with the following prompts: “Should–should we kiss?” (6) and “You’re making this so much harder than it has to be.” (30)

Summary: FBI!Harry and Y/N work together to solve a crime and romance ensues. Enemies to lovers if you squint. (6k words)

Warnings: violence, smut (unprotected), mentions of death, use of alcohol, there is a lot happening

The gun felt cool against your skin which juxtaposed your body which was coated in a light layer of sweat. You were hyper aware of its presence under your dress, along with the wig on your head and the colored contacts you wore, making you feel entirely uncomfortable for the simple assignment you were given.

You sat in the backseat of a government SUV, eyeing the dashboard monitor at the front of the car. It’s view showed multiple angles of the casino you and your partner Harry were headed to. You watched as various members were let in under what seemed to be a heavily guarded building.

You glanced to your right to see Harry reading over his new persona, mouthing certain phrases to himself as he folded the alias card into a black handkerchief, tucking it into his suit pocket.

The two of you and your analyst Mitch were briefed on the mission a few hours earlier. There was a man and a woman, siblings, who were believed to have bombed a casino in London earlier that week. Now, you and a team were set to find and detain both siblings, along with disarming the bomb before it is too late. 

“Bellagio’s guest list for nights like this is pretty exclusive but they recently had some people added so we should be able to get by just fine but play off me if need be,” Harry spoke with a gruff voice, adjusting his collar to ensure his communication device was hidden properly.

You defensively shifted towards Harry, “I know my alias,” you stopped to wrap your radio harness tighter around the wire of your bra to hide it’s bulk, adjusting the receiver in your ear you continued, “I was supposed to use it last mission but I didn’t need to.”

Harry raises his eyebrows, “Okay, no need to get defensive.”

You look at him one last time before eyeing the camera footage at the font of the car again. You see a skip in the footage and scoot forward in your chair, “How do you rewind this?”

Mitch meets your eyes in the rear view mirror, “You have to call back to the cyber ops, we can’t do it from here.”

You nod, testing to see if your comm was working before asking the same question, prompting the security team on your case to rewind the footage. “There!” you point out, asking them to go back and pause it again, “There’s a cut,” you decide after seeing a frame by frame replay.

“No camera has him after that. It can’t be a blind spot, he just disappeared,” Harry agrees.

“Someone was probably waiting in a blind spot to take him,” Mitch informs, “They're five to ten feet, there is enough room.”

Having the camera back in current time, you watch as a cab pulls through one screen and stops before it reaches the next camera's sight, “So do you think that's them? Picking up whoever that was?” you ask, looking at Harry.

He sighs heavily, “Probably,” he hesitated. He didn’t want to have to follow the cab, “We can call someone to trace the cab though, right? So we still make sure shits good at the casino,” he replied.

Mitch slows to a stop as he approaches a stop sign, “Ask them to get their license number from another camera and find out who drives that cab,” he suggests, “Then whoever follows them can see what's going on.”

You nod, relaying the information to the analyst team assisting you all on the case. Your eyes follow the monitor as you watch the cab leave the building with an excessive roar of their engine. A crinkle forms between your eyebrows, “Why was that so loud? Wouldn’t that draw more attention to themselves?”

Harry sucked his teeth as he racked his brain for a logical answer, “It would,” he agreed, “Maybe it’s to derive our attention.”

You shrug lightly, “That could be it. We definitely need to get more people out here just in case, though,” you agree.

“It could go both ways,” Mitch reminds you, “They could be a step ahead, knowing how we think, and really be escaping and we would be too naive to realize.”

“This is so confusing,” you whine, “Why can’t they just pull a stunt we already know.”

Harry’s lips tug upward into a smirk, “We don’t have to know what they’re planning, we just need enough people to be ready no matter what,” he reminds you.

You open your mouth to reply but a noise in your earpiece stops you. “They’re headed south on Las Vegas Freeway,” someone comments, “Be ready to follow through once they stop.”

-

You and Harry approach Bellagio, arms linked. It wasn’t the original plan, but Mitch said it would be easier to go in together rather than to be seen leaving the same car fifteen minutes apart in a crowded area.

You both approach the bouncer, Harry giving the buff man his alias, “Oliver Irvine,” he speaks casually. The bouncer's gaze moves to you with an unimpressed gaze, “Maggie Greene, but also my plus one,” Harry speaks again. The man glances at the door and back at you with a grunt. You sigh softly, leaning closer to Harry while also shrugging your arm up to make your breasts look more pronounced, “We know the Russell’s,” you mention the siblings. You watch in amusement as his eyes widen slightly, panic visible on his face.

The bouncer’s face scrunches up in confusion, “We’re visiting from London,” Harry helps him remember your names.

He clears his throat, “Of course, I remember them mentioning Irvine now,” he nods at Harry. You bite your lip softly in attempts to keep yourself from laughing, “Head in,” he sidesteps and you wink at him whispering a soft thank you, making him smile slightly like a schoolboy.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and you let go of Harry’s arm. You make a beeline for the bar and immediately ask for a pale ale. The bartender eyes you up and down before returning slightly after with your beer. You thank him softly and look around the club, sucking your teeth with distaste at the bitter substance. You hate beer but you need to encompass Maggie Greene and Maggie likes beer.

You spot a man looking at you and you smile at him, giving him permission to come up to you. He approaches you with a smirk, “Hey, I’m Rob.”

You twist the hair from your wig around your finger carefully and you lean forward giving him a face full of cleavage, “Nice to meet you Rob, I’m Maggie.”

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asks, his eyes refusing to meet yours.

You look down at your full beer and lift it slightly so he sees before laughing at him, “I’m afraid you’ll have to wait.”

He laughed back and with a stutter replies, “Yeah, I figured,” he paused. Looking at your eyes, you silently hope he can’t tell they’re not your natural color because of the dim lit building. “Sorry, I just don’t know how I haven’t seen you here before, I come here every few nights,” he explains.

You perk up at that, he probably knows someone, you think to yourself. “No, I’m new, I came with my boyfriend.”

He nods with his head down and a chuckle, clearly disappointed, “And who’s that?”

“Oliver,” you say simply, pointing at Harry who is talking to a guy towards the back of the crowd, “How come you’re here so often,” you counter.

“The owner is a friend of a friend,” he smiles, lifting his hand to meet yours. He takes the drink out of your hand and sets it down on the bar before speaking, “They’re coming later today, maybe I’ll introduce you.”

“Oh cool!” you feign enthusiasm. You're beginning to regret speaking to him. The more you talk, the faster he seems to go. “Who are they? Oliver was telling me about some of the regulars he met last time,” you trail off in hopes of getting something.

“My friend? Her name’s Jazzy. Jazzy Russells,” he tells you, “Heard of ‘er?”

You shake your head lightly trying to suppress a smile, “No, but I’d love to meet her,” you send him a lipstick sweet smile. You pick up your beer with a slight tilt towards your body spilling it along the hem of your dress “I’m sorry,” you gasp, “I need to freshen up. Would you mind holding my drink?” you ask with no intent of drinking anymore.

He smiles at you and nods, allowing you to rush to find a secluded area. You find a nook next to the bathroom where an occasional straggler looks near. You put your phone up to your ear so it looks more natural and press the button on your comm to speak directly to your team.

“A found a guy who said he’s meeting Jazmyn later today,” you speak in a hushed voice, “Said he’d introduce me,” you tell them.

“Great,” you hear on the other end, “Can you get Styles in with you?” they ask.

“Probably, yeah.”

“Okay. Styles meet Y/L/N and devise a plan,” they conclude.

You nod slightly in confirmation, texting Harry to meet you near the women's room.

When he arrives in a haste, he has a light lipstick stain on the apple of his cheek and smells strongly of a woman’s perfume- his own scent masked heavily. “Jesus, Harry, did ya smother her?” you ask, licking your thumb and attempting to smudge the lipstick off before deciding it’s no use. You sigh, “Go wipe it off in the bathroom, you look ridiculous.”

His face scrunches up in disgust, “Why’d ya do that?” he asks, using his handkerchief to wife off the lipstick and your spit, making sure to keep his alias card hidden.

“Because I told that creep I was talking to that you were my boyfriend so he wouldn’t try anything,” you whisper harshly as you see a woman approaching the bathroom.

His lips upturned forming a smirk, “I knew you liked me.”

“I don’t like you, you just need an in,” you remind him. “Seems like I’m the only one doing any work of value,” you complain, “By the way, that perfume? Doesn’t suit you.”

Harry groaned, “I ran into a drunk girl on my way here, she threw herself on me and kissed my cheek to get some guy away from her,” he explains.

You shake your head with a bitter laugh, “Whatever. Just know, you’re making this so much harder than it has to be.”

Harry looks at you intensely before breaking out into a grin, “Awww, Y/N, no need to get jealous. I promise I won't let anyone kiss me tonight if that’s what you want,” he teases.

You look at him unimpressed, “No, I don’t care what you do, just don’t blow our cover. What are we going to say when I show up with you to meet Jazmyn and you smell like another woman but I claim you’re my boyfriend?”

“Relax, I’m a professional,” Harry shrugs, leaning against the wall next to him.

You scoff, “Doesn’t seem like it,” you mumble.

Harry rolls his eyes in response, fed up with you, “What’s the plan?” he asks.

“So I was thinking,” you pause when you hear Harry grumble an oh great, “I was thinking when we meet Jazmyn we get her a bit drunk,” you shrug. You knew she wouldn’t just reveal anything to you. Especially sober. You meet his eyes, “Then you take her up to her room to take a nap or something? Or back to wherever she says she’s staying,” you shrug, “And from there you take her wherever you can that’s alone and you interrogate her.”

Harry nods, “Okay and Justin? He’s gonna be out all night we can’t just get one of them.”

“Well, if he does end up coming I’ll just flirt or something and get him alone. If he doesn’t, you have to get Jazmyn to tell you where he is or whatever.”

He hums, “Okay so when Jazmyn comes, we have to get her drunk then I take her back? That's it? That simple?” Harry was skeptical. He had done enough work in this field to know that simple plans are never executed to perfection.

“That simple.”

-

Getting Jazmyn drunk was proven harder than you both thought. First, you asked if you could buy her a drink since she just arrived but she insisted she plays better when sober. Then, Harry tried to hand her a drink while she was approaching a game of craps but she knocked it out of his hand onto some random man’s suit who was none the pleased. He sighed an insincere apology to the man as you suppressed a laugh. Harry then immediately found you to keep from drawing attention to himself.

Safe to say the plan was not going well.

On top of that, Oliver, the man you had met earlier, would not leave you alone and insisted on buying you drinks. You took them carefully and set them on a random surface when he looked away, but the inconvenience it gave you was not taken lightly.

You both were on the edge of giving up when Mitch told you through your earpiece that they had gotten Justin, Jazmyn’s brother, and he wasn’t talking. He kept saying his sister has it under control.

Harry looked at you briefly before walking off to find Jazmyn in a rush. He found her playing the same game of craps he left her at and she had just finished betting a push on her opponent when Harry whisked her away.

“Hey,” he breathed on her, voice steady.

“Hi,” she giggled back. Harry smiled, maybe he was getting somewhere with this. He watches as her opponent rolls a perfect twelve and she cheers quietly at her neutral state. “Think I’ve gained four hundred,” she speaks quietly.

Harry raises his eyebrows, “Impressive.”

“I make good bets,” she shrugs with a smile. Her hand finds his, intertwining them together, and Harry watches as her face falls. “Where’s your girlfriend?” Jazymn asks.

Harry smiles fondly and points to the bar, “She’s getting me a drink, ya want one?”

She huffs out a breath in frustration, “Sure,” making Harry smile.

You approach not a minute later with an old fashioned in hand and Harry transfers it to Jazmyn’s. She smiles at you and asks how your night has been.

You glance at Harry and back at Jazmyn, “It’s been pretty good, love getting tipsy,” you shrug. You lean into her, “I always find someone when I get him drunk,” you whisper with a wink.

Jazmyn’s eyes widened slightly, “And today?”

“Workin’ on it,” you shrug, “Why?”

She looks at you and sighs in frustration, “No particular reason.”

You smile to yourself. She’s interested in one of you, you just have to figure out who. “So, Jazzy, are you in a relationship?” you ask her a bit louder then intended.

She shakes her head sadly, “No, haven’t liked someone in a while.”

You purse your lips and nod slightly, “Well I’m sure we can find you someone here, come on!” you enthuse, “There are hundreds here.”

She shakes her head, “I’ve had my eye on someone since they’ve walked in,” she starts, “But it turns out they have a boyfriend,” she looks you in the eye.

You mask your surprise with a soft smile, “I’m sure they wouldn’t mind- they don’t have to tell anyone,” you whisper.

Harry looks your way with a nod. His face is hardened and his jaw is clenched. He looks upset but you couldn’t put your finger on what. “I’m gonna go get a drink,” Harry paused, gesturing to the drink he sacrificed for Jazmyn. You nod in response, watching him walk off.

“They really don’t have to tell anyone?” Jazmyn asks once Harry is out of earshot.

You watch her carefully. For a moment you forget she’s a wanted criminal- a ruthless murderer. In a vulnerable moment, you almost forget that you are supposed to be trapping her.

“Maggie?” she asks. You look at her confused for a moment before remembering where you are and what you are doing.

“Don’t have to tell anyone,” you confirm with a sweet smile.

She smiles back, showing all her teeth. “When shall we go?” she asks.

“A bit forward are we?” you ask, taking the drink out of her hand and taking a long sip, keeping your eyes locked with hers. She shifts, slightly uncomfortable, as you hand the drink back and slightly push the glass up to her lips for her to follow your lead and take a sip as well. “Don’t wanna get to know me? Buy me a drink?” you continue your teasing.

She looks you up and down, “I know everything I need to know about you.”

You raise your eyebrows, slightly unimpressed but wholly not surprised, “Is that so?”

“You like hard liquor, you hate your boyfriend but he gives good dick, your game of preference is poker but you’re bad at bluffing,” Jazmyn trails off, her finger playfully tapping on her chin, “Oh, and you’re hot. I know what I need to know, now let's go?”

You chuckle at her eagerness, “Not all right but I’ll give you props. Not bad.” You begin looking around for Harry, who you find looking at you with an emotionless expression from across the room. “I’ll go get my room key and we can head up,” you wink.

You meet Harry’s gaze and keep it as you make your way across the casino to meet him. “I got her,” you tell him, “I need a key card.”

He nods and scrambles to find one he was given during the briefing, “Third floor, good job agent Y/L/N.”

You fake a gasp as you grab onto the card, “That’s a new one… a compliment?”

“I won’t say it again,” Harry shrugs, watching as you turn on your comm.

“I got her to go back with me. We’re meeting in the hotel room. What now?” you speak to your team.

“Y/L/N, bring her up to the room. We have it equipped with just about everything you’d need. Interrogate her if you can. If she won’t break just detain her and bring her back to us. Styles, you go follow in after ten minutes to help with whatever method is needed.”

You both murmur your agreements and Harry sees you off.

You meet Jazmyn back where you left her but this time she has two large men with her. You smile at both of them before leading the four of you to the elevator, “So you’re an important woman?” you ask.

“Very important. But don’t worry, they’re just here to keep me safe,” she replies, gesturing at the two men’s gun holsters.

You nod, selecting the third floor and waiting patiently as the elevator slowly moved up to the second and finally the third floor.

“Do they have to come in with us?” you ask innocently, hoping you don’t have to blow your cover so soon.

“Is that a deal breaker?” she asks sadly.

“Yeah.. not one for being watched,” you shiver in discomfort. She nods and tells them to wait outside your room and to not let anyone in. They nod obediently and you unlock the door, letting both you and Jazmyn into the large room.

She shuts the door quickly, nearly pouncing on you as you stand by the bed. Her lips meet yours briefly as you pull back in shock. “Would you like a drink?” you ask, turning around and heading towards the mini bar.

She sighs in frustration, “No, that’s okay. Just want you,” she pauses as she watches you bend down to get a drink.

You rise again, holding a bottle of wine. “You sure?” you confirm. She nods in reassurance and you shrug, “Okay, I’m gonna get a glass. Make yourself at home,” you gesture towards the bed.

You leave her and close the bathroom door. You hastily whisper that you are taking your comm off and to contact you through Harry and you detach the harness and tear off the earpiece. You return with a plastic cup, pouring red wine into the cup.

You take a sip, eyeing Jazmyn and you smile at her. You walk towards her slowly, watching as she straightens her posture at your presence. You smile at her intimidation and hold her chin with your forefinger and thumb. “What am I gonna do with you?” you tsk.

She smiles, “Kiss me.”

You set down your cup and lift her chin to meet your height. “No,” you whispered, “Let me please you.”

You were officially worried. It had only been about five minutes. Harry wouldn’t be here soon enough and you really didn’t want to have to do anything with Jazmyn.  

“Okay,” she bit her lip, raising her dress without a second thought.

You hid your fear with a sultry smile- helping her lay down on the bed and kneeling down onto the floor. You began kissing up her legs, her hands reaching your wig. You pulled away abruptly in fear but it was too late. Your wig had come off.

“What the fuck?” Jazmyn asks softly. Her eyes widened as she realized what was happening. “Who are you?” she sneers.

You stand immediately but you’re stopped by Jazmyn grabbing at the necklace you wore around your neck. The braid your hair was put in falls onto your back and she yanks it with her other hand, making you groan.

You growl, launching yourself at Jazmyn. “You bitch!” you scream, unhooking the necklace and using the chain to wrap her arms into a makeshift hold as she thrashes in your hold. You use all the momentum you can gather by a simple step forward and thrust her onto the ground using all your body weight.

You step on her hand with a heel but she sweeps your other leg out from beneath you with a swift kick. You fall onto your back and she untangles herself from your necklace, throwing it to the ground as you instantaneously try to stand up before she can reach any weapon.

You reach under your dress and grab the gun you held under tight with your stockings and you quickly point the gun at her. “Don’t fucking move,” you sneer.

“Shoot me,” she replies with a matching tone.

You lower the gun to her leg and attempt to shoot- but nothing happens. The gun wasn’t loaded. Your eyes widen in disbelief and she lets out a deep chuckle and stands for herself. “Good one, Maggie,” she mocks.

You hear a thud from the door and both of you glance at where the noise derived from. “Harry,” you whisper and Jazmyn lets out a “Fuck.”

You sigh in relief as you see Harry’s large figure make its way through the door, assertively pointing the gun at Jazmyn’s leg just as you did before. She chuckles, “Bet it isn't loaded either.”

Harry smiles in response, “Yeah, I bet.” He shoots her. She falls immediately, surrendering to the ground with a tight grasp on her thigh, as Harry speaks into the comm, “Rowland, wipe the cameras and get up here.”

You walk slowly towards Jazmyn, kicking her in the chest with your arms crossed, watching her head hit the carpet of the hotel room.

“What took you so long?” you asked Harry as you turned slowly, making sure to keep your heel on Jazmyn’s chest.

“Had to take out the guards,” he pants lightly, recovering from an adrenaline rush, “Why?”

“Took your sweet ass time, huh?” you ask, watching him roll his eyes.

“Don’t get pissy with me- you didn’t even go through with the mission. She almost got you and you had a gun,” Harry accesses.

“My gun wasn’t loaded!” you yell out of frustration, releasing the cylinder and removing the magazine. “No cartilage,” you show him.

“How the fuck did you not think to check if the gun was loaded?” he asks, his voice raising.

“Why would I check? When have you ever picked up an unloaded gun?” you defend yourself, your voice raising to match his volume.

“I check every time regardless!”

“I was never given a reason to!”

“You should know to! Come on! You were trained for months on this shit at the same academy I was!” Harry yells, “Do better, it’s your fucking job to work a gun.”

Your eyes meet his, “Don’t tell me to fucking do better,” you beg.

Just as Harry was about to reply, the door opens again, this time revealing Mitch. “You guys good in here?” He asks, immediately heading over to you and leaning down to tie Jazmyn’s hands together.

You remove your foot from Jazmyn’s chest and kick her onto her stomach making her groan in pain, “Fine,” you reply shortly.

“We’ll be down there later,” Harry nods as Mitch hoists Jazmyn up, leaning her body weight onto his. Her head falls down, chin hitting her chest at the lack of blood and energy in her body.

“I’m leaving now to get her back,” he gestures towards Jazmyn with his head, “I’ll send a car, though,” he speaks over his shoulder as he walks out of the room.

You sigh in relief of Jazmyn finally being off your hands. You walk over to the bed to sit down when something catches your eye. The necklace. You kneel down to take a hold of it, dragging it towards you on the ground, watching as the necklace falls into two separate chains.

“Fuck,” you gasp, “She fucking broke it.”

Harry's eyes widened, “So what, she broke your necklace. Big deal, you can get another one,” he shrugs dismissively.

You shake your head no, looking for the two rings you keep on the now broken chain. “No, fuck I need that,” you cry out.

Harry looks at you before asking again, “What's the big deal?”

Your eyes water slightly as you look at him, “They’re my ex-husbands.”

Harry sighs heavily and lets out a quiet, “Fuck, sorry.”

“Fuck’s right,” you chuckle, eyes closing in a prayer as you spot the rings that had fallen beneath the bed. You reach under the bed, retrieving the two rings, placing both onto your hand- yours on your ring finger and your ex-husband- Ryan’s- on your thumb.

“Why’d you keep the rings?” He finally asks.

You shrug, admiring the gems on the rings. You had just recently cleaned them in hopes of preserving their life, as they tend to get dirty and battered sitting on your neck during long missions. “He died on the field,” you swallowed harshly. You had been forced to talk about this multiple times with a psychologist during your preliminary training but it didn’t prove any easier as time went on. “Keep ‘em for luck. He’s the reason I got into this.”

He nods, “That’s nice.”

You let out a sigh and look at him, “Yeah, sometimes. Other times I wish I could forget.”

He watches you carefully as you stand up and retrieve your hardly touched wine from earlier. You drink what was left in your glass with a single gulp. “How can I help you forget,” Harry speaks after a long pause.

You look at him and with a longing glance you tell him, “The alcohol helps.”

“How can I help?” he asks again.

“You don’t need to help. You’ve done enough.”

“I think I could help if you’d let me,” he persists.

“And if I don't let you?” you ask, confused. Every assignment you had with Harry he had been nothing but cold. He spoke when spoken to. He paid no mind to you except when it came time to critique your performance. You didn’t understand why he was beginning to care now, when you already had a foundation of hatred thick on the surface.

“I’ll find a way myself,” he shrugs.

“I’d like to see you try,” you scoff. You had no reason to believe he had spent every mission analyzing you- how you reacted, how you spoke, how you moved. The way you went about your work was inspected to the motive and you had no idea.

Harry watched as you turned once more to the minibar, looking for a stronger alcohol. The mission was over and you were officially off the clock. You felt no guilt or shame and there was nobody in your ear telling you otherwise.

He watched as you turned with a mini bottle of crown royal and a can of sprite. “Come on now,” he said, approaching you with his arm out. “Hand over the bottle. No need to drink that much tonight,” he tells.

You defensively shift so your body is shielding the bottles, “Let me do what I want, I’m not working anymore” you argue, “What does it matter to you anyway, you hate me,” you mumble under your breath.

Harry sighs, “I don’t hate you.”

You look him in the eye before concluding he’s telling the truth. Slowly, you set the drinks down onto the small table beside you, “I don’t believe you.”

“Why not? I think you’re pretty good,” he shrugs.

“Today is the first time you’ve ever said anything kind about my work in this field. Every other mission we’ve been on, you’ve told me where I could’ve been better,” you start, glaring at him with an accusatory expression. “Anyway, what gives you that right? You’ve only been here for six more months then me.”

“Because why be good when you could be great? I might have only been here for six more months then you but my position was higher six months ago then yours is now,” he reminds you. “I work smart. You work more. That’s not good in this field. You have to be quick on your feet.”

You scoff and turn around from him, “Okay so how does that prove you don’t hate me?”

“I want you to be the best. I think you could be.”

“So you’re a pretentious asshole because you think you can fix my performance? Cool.”

Harry lets out a sigh of frustration. You’re never going to understand how he cares for you and he knows that, yet he refuses to outright say it. “I never said that.”

“You implied it,” you argue back. He was getting on your nerves.

“I’ve also implied that,” Harry pauses to swallow the lump in his throat. He doesn’t think it’s appropriate to confess to this now, but as you said, you’re off the clock. “I’ve implied that I think you’re attractive. Why can’t you notice that?”

Your eyes widen in shock, “Stop playing with me. I know you haven’t implied that.”

“I have,” he nods, moving closer to where you are standing, “Like when I tell you I won’t let anyone kiss me but you? I mean it.”

You turn and look at him, “Should–should we kiss?”

“Yeah,” he whispers. Gently, unlike what you would assume, his hand finds your chin and tilts your head towards his before aligning your lips into unity. He shifts you with a grunt to a free wall and pushes you up against it with a thud. His tongue forces its way into your mouth and you let out an elicit moan at the new sensation.

Your hands found their way beneath his dress shirt and crawled at his happy trail. Harry steps back to discard the clothes on his torso and he watches as you drop the slim straps of your dress down your arms, unhooking your bra, allowing your breasts to fall free.

His mouth finds its way to your hardened nipple and he flicked one, then the other, between his teeth and eventually he moved his fingers to help the dress past your hips. You moan softly as his mouth works at a steady pace, making your nipples sensitive and erect in their own capacity.

His mouth left your breast, leaving sloppy kisses down your body. Your hands find their way to his hair as your head knocks back in pure ecstasy. You squirm at the feeling of his lips on your hips and feel his fingers claw at your panties.

“Oh god,” you moan aloud. He looks up, nodding at you in confirmation of what he is about to do. You hastily nodded back and watched as he rids your panties and holds your hand softly as you step out of the clothing that had accumulated at your feet.

He wrapped his arm around your waist as he sponged kisses back up to your mouth, biting gently on your bottom lip. Your hands find their way to Harry’s slacks, working quickly to unbutton and unzip them, pulling them down along with his briefs.

Finally, you take in the sight of the naked man in front of you. You involuntarily let out a gasp and Harry chuckles softly before he pressed his body close to yours again. His lips find yours and his erect cock presses into your stomach as your arms find their way into Harry’s hair.

You held him close to you, tugging him even closer when he tried to step away. That was all the invitation he needed to help hoist you up off the ground. Your legs legs around his waist and he keeps you steady with an arm under your ass, the other in your hair.

You kissed his shoulder repeatedly as he carried you onto the mattress, setting you down fully onto his lap. His hand left your hair to find his cock, pumping it a few times before lining up the tip with your wet entrance.

With short huffs of air out of swollen lips, you slowly lower yourself down onto his cock, allowing for a loud, erotic moan to leave his lips as your hips meet. He falls further back into the bed, stretches a leg out to prolong the feeling of warmth as you slowly start to move up and down on his shaft, releasing an immense amount of pleasure into both of your bodies.

He tugged your hair back, giving his access to your neck and jaw and he sucks harshly as you quicken your pace on his member, pressing down deliberately in an attempt to feel him everywhere.

Trying to keep your clit rubbing on his pelvis resulted in a series of hot and short breaths being released within the next few minutes. The pressure against his body was unbearable and you had never felt so full before in your life.

“I can’t,” you pant out, not slowing down your movements. You hadn’t felt this good in a long time so stopping seemed out of the question. You pushed deeper, pausing for a moment to catch your breath, before quickly moving against his shaft for the second time.

“Me neither,” he replies, just as dazed as you. He groans aloud as you squeeze against his cock, causing it to throb in preparation of its release. He tries to pull out but you push him down further into the mattress.

“I’m on the pill,” you barely get out before you come, shivering at the sensation. Harry followed shortly thereafter. He sighs in pleasure, helping you off his cock and into your lap before wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing you desperately.

You watch as he leans back, admiring your body. Your nipples were still erect from pleasure and your breathing was unsteady, short huffs attempting to bring you back to a normal state. There were accidental red marks adorning your neck and a hickey beginning to form on the underside of your chin, “Sorry,” he chuckled, swiping his thumb over the marks he left.

You laugh lightly, “It’s okay,” before rolling over onto your side. Harry stands up slowly, making his way to the bathroom, returning with a towel to help clean you up before he lays back down with you.

“So,” he starts, “We should talk about this…”

[writerofblocks]

*sneaks this in* Bridget/Troy - things you said with no space between us (or) things you didn’t say at all

This was. From a long ass time ago. BUT ITS FINISHED NOW SO IM POSTING IT.

Sleepless in Stilwater

“Three.”

“Hmm?”

Troy held up three fingers. “That’s the third time you’ve yawned in as many minutes. And I’d be okay with that if you weren’t, you know, doin’ seventy on a forty-five mile an hour highway.”

Bridget broke eye contact with the road long enough to give him a sidelong glare that would wither a lesser man. “I’m not the only one doing their best Fast and the Furious impression out there,” she irritably shot back. A sports car rushed past them with an ear splitting squeal that made Troy jump, and she gestured at it. “See?”

Troy sunk back into the leather seat of the [insert car model here], returning her glare with one of his own. “That’s not the point and you know it. The point is I’d rather not end up a red smear on the pavement because my wheel man fell asleep at the goddamn wheel.”

“Oh, is that all I-” Her mouth cracked open into another face-splitting yawn; she barely managed to hide it behind her hand. “-all I am to you? Your wheel man?”

“Four. And don’t give me that crap, you’re the one that called dibs on driving.”

“I only called dibs cause you drive like a grandma on a broken scooter.”

“You mean I drive the speed limit.”

Bridget ignored him. “Besides,” she said, swerving around a semi-truck sharp enough to make him grab at the handle above the passenger window, “I’ve got places to be after this. Julius called me about a-” she let out another yawn. “-about a storage place, said the Rollerz keep their best wheels there.”

A smirk crossed Troy’s face. He waited until Bridget’s attention was on him before he held up five fingers and wiggled them. It was worth it to see the way her eyebrows dropped into a sharp V before she jabbed a finger in his direction. “Don’t you fucking say it.”

“Don’t need to say anything.”

The one finger swiftly flipped upward into giving him the bird as she returned her attention to the highway. “You’re lucky I don’t throw you out on the highway this second,” she growled, though a smile playing at the corners of her lips undercut the hostile tone.

Troy chuckled, then settled back in his seat enough to look out the car window. Stilwater was a shithole on a good day, but the oranges, purples, and blues of sunset colored the world into something more palpable to take in. Light bounced off the towering buildings of Downtown, harsh edges and cold, reflective glass softening under the gentle touch of twilight. But you could only watch buildings whiz by for so long. His gaze, as it so often did in these rare quiet moments, returned to her.

As much as he bitched about it, there was one thing he didn’t mind about Bridget being the go-to driver. It allowed him time to just… take her in. Look openly, without other people seeing and giving him crap for being lovestruck. Without her giving him crap for being lovestruck, because even after the months they’ve been together she still shied away from open affection more often than not. She cuts the sentiment with a joke, or by teasing him, or some combination of both. He doesn’t mind it- he wonders sometimes if he’s a glutton for punishment, given his career path and choice of romantic partner, but he doesn’t mind being so. Not with her around.

So he looks at her. The way her eyelids keep fluttering slightly, only for her to stubbornly hold them back open. The dark circles he’d think were black eyes if they weren’t only on her lower eyelids. She’s tapping her fingers on the steering wheel, jiggling the leg not in charge of the pedals. Any motion to tell her body it isn’t time to sleep yet. He’d make a joke about looking in a mirror if seeing it didn’t bother him so much.

That was the downside of being undercover. You got real good at seeing things people tried to hide. He had to say something. He opened his mouth, and...

“For real, though. You look like shit. Have you slept at all?”

And of course something stupid came out. Miracle of miracles, she scoffed instead of chucking him onto the highway. “Bold move to question my sleeping habits. How many used coffee mugs are on your desk again?”

Troy chose to ignore her words. “Look man, just-” He sighed, running a hand down his face. “-go home. Take a shower or something. Get some food. You need a break, Bridge.”

Bridget’s face was impassive, staring straight forward as she shifted the car into the express lane. “Can’t. Julius-”

Enough of this. “Did he tell you to do it tonight?” he asked, cutting her off before she could restate whatever bullshit task Julius had given her to do on top of everything else he’d piled on her. For fuck’s sake, sometimes it felt like she was carrying the whole gang by herself in between the tasks Julius sent down the pipeline and the duties she’d taken on herself to perform.

The glare she gave him could melt permafrost. “No.”

“Then do it tomorrow when you’re fresh.”

“I’m fresh enough,” she bit out. “You’re worrying way too much-”

The words burst from his chest before he could vet them. “I’m worrying the right goddamned amount for someone watching a person he cares about take way more shit on than she needs to.”

Bridget’s eyes went wide, whatever she’d been about to say dying in her open mouth.

Troy ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know if this is some macho attempt to prove yourself or some shit, but you don’t have to do this. Slow down. Take care of yourself. Just- please.”

She was quiet for several minutes, eyes locked on the road as she slowed to match the speed of traffic. He’d almost given up on getting a response before she spoke again. “I won’t go to the storage place tonight. It’s-” She swallowed. “It’s late. Rollerz’ll be getting the cars out for races by now, there’s bound to be way more hanging around than during the day.”

He knows those justifications. Her saying he’s right without saying it directly. When she spoke again, her voice was careful. “Got anything else going on later?”

Manila folders scattered across a coffee table, a rapidly growing pile of cigarette stubs as he figures out the best way to ruin his friend’s lives-

“Nothing that can’t wait.”

When Bridget had first joined the Saints, Troy had thought her unreadable. It was easier now to read her once he knew what to look for. Her rubbing her thumb against the side of her index finger- something self soothing. Bouncing her leg- buying time to think. The lift of her head to look at him directly- she was searching him, weighing his reaction. “Feel like staying over?”

Always. “If you want me to.”

The tension in Bridget’s shoulders dissipated, and she gave him a small smile. “Of course I do, that’s why I asked,” she replied, punching him in the arm. “Dumbass.”

===

Rain tapped an improv jazz rhythm on the glass of Bridget’s bedroom window, and Troy couldn’t sleep. Blame the cigarettes, the coffee, the crippling anxiety and paranoia. The cause ultimately didn’t matter, the effect was the digital clock on Bridget’s bedside table hit 2AM and he was no closer to falling asleep than he was when he originally lay down. Bridget, though. Bridget had been asleep the moment her head touched the pillow. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel a moment of satisfying vindication.

He rolled over, resting a hand on her arm.

It was strange to see Bridget asleep. If Bridget was awake, she was moving- tapping her foot, shifting from side to side. She bounced her heels if a meeting went too long, rattling the table until he placed a hand on her thigh to get her to stop (among… other reasons). If she chose to talk, she talked with her whole body, her hands dancing in the air. Even when she was seated and still, a part of her still seemed to tremble with energy, anticipation and eagerness. Not now, though. Now she laid there, the rise and fall of her chest the only motion. Light drifted through the cracks in the blinds from the streetlight outside her window, resting softly on the freckles on her cheeks.

His hand traveled down her arm, into the dip of her waist, over the swell of her hip bone. Bridget wasn’t a paper-thin waif by any stretch of the imagination, but without the bulk of her sweatshirt to fill out her usual silhouette, she looked… smaller. More vulnerable. Which was ridiculous, he’d seen what she could do with a gun- hell, forget a gun, he’d seen the havoc she created with her fists alone- but somehow. Somehow that veneer was stripped away in the hazy orange light of a half-dead lamppost bulb, and the only thing left was a tired twenty-one year old who needed a hell of a lot more sleep than she was getting.

Christ. She really was twenty-one, wasn’t she? The face she wore around the other Saints made her seem older than that. It was all harsh angles and stony silences, only a twitch of a smile or a slight furrow in her brow betraying the emotions running electric through her veins. The uncertainty there at the beginning had long since suffocated under a rap sheet he hated to tally up in his head. It was a thing with no remorse, and little room for mercy.

And yet that face was forgotten in her sleep. The ever present tension slackened, releasing that hardened shell and letting it fall away in favor of something softer. She denied the existence of that softness, but he knew. He was allowed to know, he realized, warmth settling in his chest at the thought. Of all people, she’d offered that gift to him.

And it’s a gift you’ll lose soon.

The thought cut a sharp line through the haze, frozen against the warmth of the moment. Troy stilled, his hand resting on her waist. Somewhere in between the light on her cheeks and the slow, steady rise and fall of her chest, he’d forgotten what would be waiting for them. That as much as he tried to dodge and delay, the day Chief Monroe decided it was time to pull the plug on the Saints was coming sooner than later- and Bridget, ambitious and unknowing, was only hastening that end.

His sigh was frayed, thin and trailing off into nothing. This relationship was never going to last forever. He’d known that going in, had willingly condemned them both to heartbreak, but it hadn’t mattered then. That future had drowned in the affection in her gaze. The warmth of her laughter. The spark of her lips on his. But now…

Troy cupped Bridget’s cheek, pressing his forehead gently against hers as he closed his eyes. “I’m gonna miss you,” he whispered. He had to say it, just once. Even if she didn’t hear it- since she would never hear it- it needed to escape before it withered under his held tongue. It needed to exist, just for a moment, all his regrets pouring into that simple, weighted phrase.

At some point she’d wake up, either through him gently shaking her or her own merit. Either way she’d grouch at him for not waking her up sooner, blinking blearily at him in a hopelessly endearing way she’d punch him for if he ever mentioned it. She’d whip the covers off of both of them, laughing when he protests. Showers would follow, breakfast of some sort, and time would continue to march forward to that inevitable, heartbreaking point.

But that was a future they didn’t have to face yet. For now, they could stay like this- curling into each other, breath to breath and at peace.

For now, he’d save her a rude awakening.

[devendrasbeard]

Marry me Once, Marry Me twice, Marry Me Six Times

Prompt: Getting Engaged Relationships: Eskel/Jaskier Rating: M Content Warnings: Alcohol, Drunk Sex, Accidental Sugar Daddy Acquisition (through marriage xD) Summary: Five times Jaskier has proposed to Eskel (more or less as a joke) and the one time Eskel has proposed to Jaskier (for real). Coffee shop AU!

Also on ao3!

The first time Jaskier has proposed to Eskel was only a few days after he'd moved to Rivia all the way from Lettenhove.

He reached out to his old college friend, Geralt, who he knew lived in Rivia, and asked him for help with the move. Even though they haven't seen each other in almost ten years, Geralt was more than happy to provide help not only with bringing all of Jaskier's stuff to his new place, but he was also determined to make Jaskier's start in the new city go as smoothly as possible.

And so, he offered Jaskier a job in his coffee shop, so that he didn't have to worry about money right after having moved across the continent. When Jaskier would settle down and think of a plan for his next moves, he'd look for other job opportunities.

It was his third day in "Deja Brew", but Geralt was already convinced he'd made the right decision by hiring his old friend. Jaskier's outgoing personality and clever, witty comments already earned them much higher tips. Little to no customers could withstand Jaskier's charm when he described their cookies and special lattes with flowery words, so their order values also increased immensely.

It was close to lunchtime, so the coffee shop was almost empty. Jaskier was stacking up some paper cups and reorganizing the paper straws by color, with his back to the front door, when he heard the familiar ding of that tiny bell installed just above the door. 

He turned around to greet the new customer but got tongue-tied after seeing the person who entered. It was a very tall man, taller even than Geralt, with shoulders ridiculously broad, gorgeous olive skin and longer dark hair. He was wearing a leather jacket over a red skin-tight t-shirt, and a pair of black jeans. What caught Jaskier's attention were the bits of tattoos poking out of the shirt's v-neck and a piercing on the bridge of the man's nose.

"Fuck me sideways..." Jaskier whispered a tad too loud as the man approached the counter.

"Hey, no swearing in front of the customers!" Geralt shouted from the storage room.

"No worries, I'm no customer," the man smiled softly and winked at Jaskier. "I assume Geralt's around?"

Jaskier pointed to the back door not saying a word, too busy biting his lip and ogling the gorgeous man in front of him.

"Oh, hey, Eskel," Geralt appeared next to Jaskier and greeted the man. "Did something happen? You usually don't come here after work."

"Nah, it's nothing. I left in a rush this morning and forgot my keys. If you could give me yours I'll make dinner tonight," he casually leaned over the counter and Jaskier couldn't help but stare at the chest hair poking out of the shirt and those goddamn tattoos.

"Yeah sure, I'll get them," Geralt replied and patted Jaskier on the shoulder. "By the way, this is my old friend Jaskier, you should remember him from my college stories. Jask, this is my brother Eskel."

Jaskier's eyes widened even more. "Brother?!" He shook his head. "You have a gorgeous, sex-on-legs brother and you never cared to tell me?"

Geralt chuckled. "Of course I told you, back in college. Baby Esk? Little brother did grow up a little in the past ten years."

Jaskier swallowed thickly and eyed Eskel, who was grinning at him with a mysterious spark in his eye. "Gods above," Jaskier sighed. "You're even more perfect than Geralt. I'm sorry, but will you marry me?"

Eskel laughed loudly, a low baritone sound, but so soft on the edges. He patted Jaskier on the shoulder and winked. "I like you, Jaskier. We'll need to get to know each other better if you'd like to marry me, so I'll see you around?"

Eskel left, leaving Jaskier feeling very fuzzy inside, knees wobbly, leaning on the counter to steady himself, and Geralt rolling his eyes at him and asking the gods if it really was a good idea to hire him.

*****

The second time Jaskier has proposed to Eskel was about a month later.

He stayed in "Deja Brew" for a while longer than he and Geralt had planned initially, but they both agreed that Jaskier just fit into that place perfectly. His new ideas for special drinks and clever names for desserts helped Geralt's place make a name for itself. 

Jaskier's newest addition to the menu was the "Unicorn Fart" - a caramel cocoa drink with rainbow colored whipped cream and a ridiculous amount of sprinkles on top. Kids would buy that in bulk and parents would roll their eyes at Jaskier when he'd hand the drinks to the delighted kids while making farting noises.

Eskel was a cook in the vegan diner just across the street and he used to pop in every now and then after work or before his late afternoon shift, grabbing a coffee before he went back to his daily activities.

Jaskier would eye him very carefully and absolutely not as sneakily as he thought. It's been a really long while since Jaskier has been with anyone, and Geralt's brother sparked that long forgotten interest in him. Now and then Jaskier would ask Geralt casually about Eskel - how old he exactly was, what he liked to do in his free time - feeling more comfortable talking to his friend about him, than ask Eskel himself.

One evening Eskel came into the coffee shop right before closing time, carrying two takeaway bags and placing them on the counter. "You need to try this!" he said enthusiastically, crossing his arms on his chest. "I've finally managed to make the perfect dumplings."

Jaskier peeked into the bags with interest and took out two containers with wonton soup and a tray with some kind of stir fry. Eskel grinned at him, his face an example of sheer satisfaction.

Geralt emerged from the storage room and grabbed one soup from Jaskier. "It smells great," he smiled at his brother.

Jaskier eagerly grabbed one wonton with his chopsticks and ate the whole thing at once. It was delicious - hot, juicy, full of tasty vegetables - and his eyes rolled back into his skull as he hummed with contentment. He pointed his chopsticks at Eskel, mouth still full, and let out a few appreciative grunts. "This, my guy, is orgasm in the form of food."

Eskel laughed and scratched the back of his neck. Jaskier didn't miss the way his bicep bulged, his shirt almost bursting at the seams. "I'm glad you like it, I'm really proud of this."

"You should be!" Jaskier put away the soup and reached for the stir fry. "Gods, I would give you foot massages at every occasion if you promised to cook it for me everyday."

"You know where I work, Jaskier, you can come by whenever you like."

"I would much rather marry you and enjoy this orgasmic food in the privacy of our home," Jaskier said lightly, while looking Eskel deep in the eyes at the same time. "Could also use some different kind of orgasms you wouldn't be able to provide me with in your diner."

Geralt choked on his dumpling, looking daggers at Jaskier, while having a coughing fit. "For gods' sake! Can you try being less blunt with your flirting? It's my little brother."

"I don't see any flirting," Eskel laughed, sending Jaskier a wink. "I've only been proposed to twice, that's quite serious, my old guy, don't you think?"

Geralt huffed, rolled his eyes and left for the storage room, hugging the soup container to his chest. "I need to place some orders for tomorrow. Behave, you two."

Jaskier leaned casually on the counter, popping another dumpling in his mouth and grunting with pleasure again. "I've proposed twice, yet I haven't heard an answer from you, Esk."

"I like you, Jaskier, you're more than cute," Eskel winked at him and moved to the door. "Gotta do better than that to get a yes, though. See you around!"

*****

The third time Jaskier has proposed to Eskel was on the night of Belleteyn.

As a promotional stunt, Jaskier offered their coffee shop customers a pair of limited edition coffee drinks - one infused with rose and the other with lavender extract - along with a big heart-shaped cookie. When couples ordered the set he would also give them plastic flower crowns that he'd bought in bulk a few weeks earlier at a super cheap price.

Geralt was amazed at Jaskier's ideas and kept shooting him appreciative looks, as they both worked fast and agile to get all the incoming orders ready. He even gave in and let Jaskier put one of the flower crowns on his silver hair, "for promotional reasons only, of course."

When the last customers for the day left, carrying two coffee cups each and trying not to drop their flower crowns, Eskel walked into the place, his signature grin plastered on his face.

"Ready to get absolutely shitfaced tonight?" he asked, holding up a bottle of red wine. "I like how cute you both look," he smiled pointing at the now crooked flower crowns on their heads.

"You'll get one too," Jaskier chirped, reaching under the counter and placing the wreath on Eskel's head and pursing his lips. "Absolutely gorgeous!"

"Nice!" Eskel smiled. "Are we going to see the parade or do you guys want to get straight down to business?"

"And by 'business' you mean...?" Jaskier leaned forward on the counter, grinning at Eskel, completely disregarding Geralt's exasperated huff. Jaskier was like a horny, hyperactive little puppy that Geralt had absolutely no control over. 

"It's up to you, Jaskier," Eskel smiled, absolutely unfazed by his friend's innuendos. "Geralt and I have seen the parade more than a dozen times, so if you'd rather hit the pubs already, then I'm game."

"Let's hit the pubs then," Jaskier commanded. "But the flower crowns stay on!"

A few hours and three visited pubs later, Geralt has called it a day and went home, leaving Jaskier and Eskel sitting alone at the bar, telling them to not do anything stupid while he's gone. 

"Sigh, Eskel, you're really handsome," Jaskier whispered, propping his chin on his hands.

"Did you just say 'sigh' out loud instead of actually sighing?" Eskel chuckled.

"I might have," Jaskier tried for a seductive smile. "You're still handsome." He reached out to pat Eskel's cheek, but miscalculated the distance and launched forward, his hand landing on Eskel's thigh and his forehead on Eskel's chest.

"Okay, how shitfaced are we?" Eskel asked, helping Jaskier find his balance.

"Well, I'm pretty hammered for sure. Time to go home?"

"Can I walk you home?" Eskel asked, still holding Jaskier's arms in his grip.

"Only if you stay the night," Jaskier went for a wink but ended up closing both his eyes several times. 

"You're absolutely not subtle while flirting," Eskel laughed, leaning forward and almost bumping their foreheads. "But you're incredibly cute and I'm terribly horny, so I'll take it."

"Talk about subtle," Jaskier snickered.

Before he could find another witty comeback in his alcohol-dazed mind, Eskel's lips were on his. They were soft and plush and very wet, and the kiss caught Jaskier off guard. He wrapped his hands around Eskel's neck and leaned into the kiss.

"Hey, no tongue wrestling at the bar!" the bartender swatted them with his towel. They laughed softly, muttering out apologies and left the pub, hips bumping against each other and legs wobbly.

They stumbled into Jaskier's apartment, Jaskier hugging Eskel's waist, Eskel's arm slumped over Jaskier's shoulder, laughing at something they have long forgotten about.

Jaskier pushed Eskel against the wall as soon as he closed the door behind them. "Okay, are we doing this because we're super drunk, super horny, or do you really really reallyyyyy fancy me?" he asked, propping his arm against the wall and looking up at Eskel's face.

"I like you Jaskier," Eskel said firmly, giving him a quick kiss. "And I'm also super horny, so I hope that's enough a reason for you?"

"Your hot-ass... ass is reason enough for me," Jaskier chuckled and pulled Eskel in for a kiss. Eskel was warm on his lips and his hot tongue in Jaskier's mouth was already driving him crazy.

"Bedroom," Eskel panted. "Quick, before we pass out from all the tequila shots we had tonight."

So Jaskier laid back comfortably on the bed, having already dropped his shirt and pants and he watched Eskel undress. Eskel didn't waste any time, pulling his shirt off in one swift motion and sliding his pants off together with his boxer shorts.

"What the fuck? What the... Shit, fuck, Eskel?!" Jaskier sat up on the bed, eyes wide with wonder.

"You okay, Jask?" Eskel turned to him, brows furrowed with worry.

"You walk around carrying this marvel of a dick in your pants and you didn't tell me?!" Jaskier gasped, his voice reaching incredibly high notes.

"When do you think would be the right time to tell you?" Eskel laughed, crawling up the bed and into Jaskier's arms. "'Yo, I'm Eskel, wanna see my marvelous cock?' This doesn't usually work out well."

"I usually don't propose to people immediately after seeing them, so I guess this could've actually worked," Jaskier replied with a seductive wink, his hands already roaming across Eskel's tattooed chest. His eyes, however, were fixed at Eskel's cock. "Gods, dick so bomb I will really have to marry you! I want to feel that between my legs every day for the rest of my life!"

"Watch out what you wish for," Eskel whispered in his ear, causing goosebumps on Jaskier's skin. "Or you might actually get it."

*****

The fourth time Jaskier has proposed to Eskel was when he caught a nasty cold in the middle of summer.

Jaskier was sitting on the couch, watching reruns of "The Great Cintran Bake Off", a cup of now cold tea in his hands. He scolded himself for having worn flip flops to work the other day - a heavy rain had caught him when he was going home in the night and he was soaking wet when he had finally reached his place. The next day he woke up with a throbbing headache and runny nose and had to call in sick.

There was a knock on the door, but Jaskier waved it off. If it was the postman, he'd leave the parcel or letter at the door, and Jaskier didn't expect anyone else.

A moment later there was another, louder knock, followed by Eskel's soft baritone voice. "Jaskier, are you home? It's me."

Jaskier slipped off the couch, wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and shuffled to the door to open it.

"Aww man, you look like shit," Eskel said when Jaskier let him in.

"Good to see you too, Eskel," Jaskier replied weakly and shuffled back to his living room to plop back on the couch.

"Geralt has told me you called in sick and asked me to come over and check up on you," Eskel followed him into the living room, placing takeaway bags on the table next to the couch. He put a hand on Jaskier's forehead, worrying his lip between his teeth. "Good thing I have the whole day off. Someone needs to take care of you."

"I'll be fine," Jaskier mumbled from under the blanket.

"What did you eat today?" Eskel asked, eyeing the half empty tea cup on the table.

"Some Aspirin. Butter toast."

"Yeah, thought so," Eskel shot him a condescending look and grabbed the takeout bags. "That's why I came prepared."

He pulled out a container of hot chicken soup and another one with gyoza dumplings. He helped Jaskier sit up and wrapped the blanket around Jaskier's shoulders, so that he could eat comfortably on the couch.

"The chicken soup is what my grandma used to make whenever we were sick. She taught me how to prepare it," Eskel said with a hint of pride. "Eat it hot, you'll feel better in no time."

Jaskier ate a few spoons of the hot broth - it was deliciously salty, with lots of carrots, onions and noodles. He felt a pleasurable warmth already spreading around his stomach and he hummed softly. "Thank you, it's delicious."

"Now, eat it all up and go to bed. You need sleep," Eskel rubbed his back and Jaskier leaned in to rest his head on Eskel's shoulder. "I'll look after you today."

"You don't have to," Jaskier looked up at him, eyes fogged. "I'll take a nap and will be fine. No need to stay around and waste your day off work on me."

Eskel cleared his throat before placing a quick kiss on Jaskier's forehead. "It's... It's not a waste of time to be around you." He lowered his gaze and fixed his eyes on the floor. "You're my friend."

"... with benefits," Jaskier chuckled, then got a coughing fit. "Sorry."

"Let's get you to bed," Eskel commanded with a light smile. "You need to sleep for the soup to work its wonders."

Jaskier slept for over four hours. He was woken up by a warm hand on his forehead - Eskel checking his temperature. He sat up with a groan, but he was relieved to find that his head didn't hurt anymore.

Eskel put a tray with a bowl of steamy hot dumplings in Jaskier's lap and sat next to him on the edge of the bed. "Time for lunch," he smiled. "I also made you some ginger tea with honey - it's much better for your health than that generic supermarket shit you had earlier."

"I don't know if I should thank you or feel fucking offended," Jaskier narrowed his eyes. He then tried one of the gyozas and let out an appreciative hum. "Okay, I've decided to thank you, cause these are fucking delicious! Did you made them yourself?"

Eskel nodded with a smile.

"Gods, I'm so lucky to have you," Jaskier whispered between bites. "Fucking handsome, so caring, great cook, dick so bomb it leaves me breathless... Eskel, I'm going to-"

"Yes, I know, you will ask me to marry you," Eskel cut him off, letting out a breathy laugh.

"I wanted to offer you a blowjob once I get better," Jaskier retorted with a grin. "But marrying you would come with the same benefits, so I guess I should actually ask you to marry me one day."

"Who knows," Eskel replied, eyes unfocused and looking at the wall with a soft smile. "Maybe one day I will actually accept your crazy proposal. Now finish your food and let me get you some more Aspirin."

*****

The fifth time Jaskier has proposed to Eskel was when Eskel saved his life.

It was a chilly night at the beginning of autumn. Geralt has left earlier to run some errands and Jaskier was closing up the coffee shop by himself. Having worked there for over half a year now, he knew exactly what to do and it didn't bother him to be left alone for the last hour of work every now and then. He closed the front door, swept the floors, counted the money and put it away into the little safe in their back room. He turned off all the lights and went out, closing the back door behind him.

"Your wallet and phone, pretty boy," he heard a hoarse voice behind his back. 

He turned around to see a man, hiding his face under a big hood, both hands kept hidden in the hoodie's vast pockets. Jaskier shook himself out of the initial shock and looked closer at the person - it wasn't a man, more a teenager, sixteen years old at best. He was grinning awfully at Jaskier, eyes mad and darting, probably on drugs.

"Okay, let's take it easy," Jaskier held his hands up, shivering a little. "I don't think you want to do this."

"Shut the fuck up! Wallet." The guy moved closer to Jaskier pulling a small knife out of his pocket. 

Jaskier instinctively scooted back, his back bumping painfully against the cold door of the coffee shop. This was getting serious and he was sure even his wit wouldn't help him get out of the situation. He looked at the knife's blade shining in the weak light of the few street lamps, took a quick glance at the guy's wild eyes and gritted teeth - he was definitely under some substance's influence, so Jaskier convinced himself that arguing with the guy or trying to talk some reason into him would make no sense. He exhaled slowly, trying not to shake too much while still eyeing the sharp blade in the guy's hand. He tried looking around without acting too obvious - but there was nobody in the street.

"Okay, I'm gonna reach into my pocket and take my wallet out," Jaskier said weakly, trying to sound as calm as possible. "No need to use the knife, okay?"

"Don't tell me what to do!" the guy shouted at him, waving the knife around. 

Jaskier looked up and prayed silently to the gods. He hoped that as soon as he'd handed the guy his stuff, he'd be gone and leave him alone. All he heard was the annoying sound of his teeth clicking and his rushed heartbeat ringing in his ears.

"Leave him alone!" Jaskier heard a growl coming from the end of the alleyway. Before Jaskier could recognise Eskel in the dark figure, he rushed at the robber, knocking him down. The guy fell on his back, losing the knife and groaning painfully. He scrambled to his feet and launched at Eskel, clearly going for a fight. Jaskier watched him lose his balance and fall on his back again, after Eskel had punched him straight in the face. "Get the fuck out of here!" Eskel's voice was dark and threatening, nothing alike the soft baritone Jaskier was used to. Eskel kicked the guy once, before Jaskier grabbed his arm and pulled him away.

"It's okay, Esk," he said quietly. "I'm okay. It's okay."

"If I ever see you around here again, I swear to god..." Eskel started, teeth gritted and jaw clenched. He watched as the guy got up as quickly as he could and limped away, leaving him panting and with a very scared Jaskier clinging to his arm.

Jaskier let out a deep breath, steadying himself on Eskel's arm. Eskel turned to him and grabbed him in a tight embrace. "I'm okay, I'm okay," Jaskier kept repeating, even though his legs felt weak and his teeth were still clicking a little.

"Gods, I'm so glad nothing happened to you," Eskel breathed and kissed Jaskier's forehead. Then he kissed his cheeks and left a soft kiss on Jaskier's lips. He was shaking a little too. "If he'd hurt you, I swear to god..."

Jaskier put a finger on his lips to shut him up. "Thank you, Eskel. I'm so glad you were here."

Eskel huffed. "Good thing I came over... Wanted to ask you to go out and grab a beer with me, but now..." he gestured around, while giving Jaskier a worried look.

"Eskel," Jaskier hugged him, hiding his face in Eskel's broad chest. He felt the stress leave him, as Eskel's strong hands rubbed circles on his back. He let out another deep breath, held back the tears prickling at his eyes, smiled faintly. "You saved my life, quite literally. So, since I now owe you my life, will you marry me?"

"Ahh, there it is," Eskel let out a breathy laugh, placing another kiss on Jaskier's forehead. "I will take you out tonight first."

*****

And then Eskel has proposed to Jaskier.

"Hey, Jaskier," Geralt looked up from the delivery boxes and greeted him when he entered their coffee shop. "Before you change into your work clothes, can you go over to Eskel's diner and pick up a parcel for me? He said he grabbed it for me this morning."

"Sure thing," Jaskier replied, putting his jacket back on. "Be back in ten."

"Yeah," Geralt nodded towards him with a soft smile tugging at his lips. "No rush."

When Jaskier entered the diner, Eskel greeted him at the door and took his work apron off, throwing it to a coworker. "Good to see you, Jaskier," he said eagerly.

"Hi, Geralt said I was supposed to pick something from you for him?"

"Uh yeah... I don't have it," Eskel grinned with an apologetic look on his face, rubbing the back of his neck. "But you can come with me, I have something to show you."

"How long is it gonna take?" Jaskier hesitated at the door. "Told Geralt I'll be back in a minute."

"You don't really have to," Eskel smiled at him. "Asked Geralt for a day off for you today, he's already got someone to cover today's shift for you."

Jaskier propped his hands on his hips and eyed Eskel suspiciously. "Okay, what is going on?"

"Can't tell ya," Eskel reached out and grabbed Jaskier's hand. "Come with me."

They strolled slowly through the city's streets. Eskel was holding Jaskier's hand all the time, rubbing small circles on it with his thumb every now and then. Jaskier looked down at their intertwined fingers and smiled. Eskel's hand was strong and warm, his olive skin soft under Jaskier's touch.

"How come your skin and your hair are so much darker than Geralt's?" he wondered aloud.

"Geralt's a weirdo," Eskel blurted out without thinking, causing Jaskier to chuckle. "Also, he's old."

"Mind you, I'm the same age as him," Jaskier stuck his tongue out.

"Technically, yes. But you're different," Eskel smiled. "When I'm around you, I feel like you're more my age, while Geralt is already like our dad."

"I'm really glad he doesn't hear us now," Jaskier laughed, squeezing Eskel's hand tightly. "Okay, where are you taking me and what is going on?"

"Ah, we're here," Eskel stopped them. "You'll find everything out soon enough."

Jaskier took a look at the heavy steel gate they found themselves in front of. Botanical garden. Jaskier has always wanted to go there but never found the time to do so. He smiled fondly at Eskel and squeezed his hand. So it was a surprise date, a nice walk through the narrow paths between colorful flowerbeds. There were little to no people, since it was a weekday before noon - everyone was either at work or in school and they could enjoy their time together in privacy. A fuzzy heat spread through his chest and he gave Eskel a wide smile. "Thank you for bringing me here, I love it."

"You ain't seen nothing yet," Eskel grinned, grabbed Jaskier's hand and led him inside.

After a while of walking around, Eskel sat Jaskier on a secluded bench in front of a weeping willow tree. On both sides of the bench were flowerbeds of blooming autumn flowers - cyclamens, russian sage, and marigolds. Jaskier turned his face to the sun, letting it warm his skin, and inhaled the mix of strong flowery scents. "It's beautiful," he sighed. "But what's the occasion? It's neither my birthday nor yours... So what's the deal here?"

In reply, Eskel grabbed Jaskier's face and pulled him into a passionate kiss. His lips were warm and plush and so soft on Jaskier's and Jaskier immediately sunk into the sensation, slumping in Eskel's arms. Eskel was holding Jaskier's face firmly, kissing Jaskier so deeply, hungrily, as if he was afraid Jaskier would never want to kiss him again. But Jaskier leaned into the kiss, pressing his body flush to Eskel's, wrapping his arms around his broad shoulders, opening his mouth to welcome him.

"Jaskier, listen," Eskel grabbed his hand and exhaled deeply, when they parted their lips. "I know we're not technically together, like we never put the 'boyfriends' label on ourselves, but I feel that we have a strong connection going on between us anyway. And I know that you're much older than me, but I don't really mind, and if you don't mind, then..." He stopped for a moment, worrying his lip between his teeth, trying to find the right words.

Jaskier stared at him with interest and a hint of worry, looking between their intertwined fingers and Eskel's face.

"I've never met anyone like you, Jaskier," Eskel continued, squeezing Jaskier's hand between his strong fingers. "You're funny and smart, you're like sunshine embodied. You're so beautiful and so confident in who you are and I admire you and... I love you."

Jaskier felt tears already brimming at the corners of his eyes and he exhaled deeply, trying not to burst out crying at the very moment. But then Eskel slid down from the bench and got on one knee, causing Jaskier to gasp loudly.

"Marry me, Jaskier," Eskel said, expression serious but eyes hopeful. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small dark blue box, and pressed it into Jaskier's hands. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You might think I'm crazy but I've really thought it through and if you're ready to take that leap of faith with me, then I'll be the happiest person in the world."

"You mean it." Jaskier's voice was as quiet as a whisper, as he looked at the little box in his hands and then at Eskel's face. "You really want this?"

Eskel nodded, his throat too tight to speak. He squeezed Jaskier's hands between his a little bit tighter.

Jaskier opened the box. He found a small simple ring in white gold inside, holding a tiny aquamarine at the top. He let out a whimper, before pulling the ring out and placing it on his finger. He pulled Eskel up from his knees and into a kiss. "I knew from day one we're gonna end up like this!"

-----

@witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

[publiccollectors]

From the discussion “Towards A Self Sustaining Publishing Model” hosted by Printed Matter.

Some things I have learned in over 30 years of publishing since my teenage days as a zine maker, administrating my project Public Collectors, and from working in the group Temporary Services and our publishing imprint Half Letter Press.

I have just ten minutes to speak. If only one or two things that I share are useful, that’s plenty! It took me decades to understand some of this stuff.

Use every exhibition invitation with a budget to print something. Use the whole budget to print something. Make something in a large enough print run so that you have something to give away and surplus that you can sell. Your publication can be a folded sheet of paper, a booklet, a newspaper, a poster, a book, or anything in between.

Be able to print at least something at home. Buy a cheap laser printer or inkjet printer, find a used copy machine, buy a RISO or some other duplicator, carve something into a potato or a piece of foam and print it. Being able to do at least some of the printing and production at home—even if it’s on a tiny scale—will compel you to print things that you might have convinced yourself not to send out or bring to a professional printer. Hopefully the ability to print impulsively and compulsively will result in good work. Figure out how to keep making things on every scale. Look for cheap used printing equipment on Craigslist. Team up with friends and buy equipment together that you can share. Start a printing collective in your basement.

Ideally your publication should cost 1/5th or 1/6th of the retail price to make. If you sell a $10.00 publication through a store, you are probably only going to make $6.00 or less after the store takes its cut. So ideally your $10.00 book costs $2.00 or less to make. Don’t aim to just break even. Aim to make a profit so you can keep making more publications and pay for your life. Publishing will probably never be your sole income but don’t lose money on purpose. Make things that are priced fairly and look like they justify what they cost to buy. The fact that you didn’t find a more affordable way to print something is not an excuse to sell something that feels cheap and shitty for a ridiculous sum of money. Good cheap printing is easier to find than ever before. Do your homework.

Figure out the cheapest and least wasteful ways to do everything. Ask other publishers where they get their work printed. Look for local printers so you can avoid shipping fees. Ask local printers if you can pay in cash for a discount. Ask printers if there is a cheaper way to do what you want to do by adjusting the size of your paper or the paper stock or some other small shift in form. If you print things yourself, buy the paper that is on sale. Design a publication around the paper that you found for cheap. Discount warehouses sometimes have good paper. Even dollar stores sometimes have good paper. I’ve even bought paper at flea markets. Costco sells an 800 sheet ream of 24 lb paper for $6.99. I use it all the time. It rules. I also recommend getting your jugs of organic olive oil there, but you can’t print with that.

Free printing is good printing. If you have access to free printing, use it. Free printing is like free food at art openings and conference receptions. It is one of those pleasures in life that never gets old. Come up with an idea that is based around the aesthetics of whatever free printing you have access to and make the publication that way. Eat the cheese and bread. Drink the wine. Make the copies at work.

Buy bulk shipping mailers on eBay. Find bubble wrap and other packing materials in the trash. Look out for neighbors who just bought new furniture—it’s usually wrapped in miles of packing material you can use for shipping books. Boycott terrible right wing fuckers like ULINE. Seriously, they give money to everyone horrible. Trump? Check. Ted Cruz? Check. Scott Walker? Check. ROY FUCKING MOORE? CHECK FUCKING CHECK! Tear up their catalogs and use them as packing material to protect your books. Make publications that have a consistent size so you can purchase cardboard mailers in bulk and get a discount on them. Buy packing tape in bulk. Buy everything in bulk. You can store your extra reams of paper under your bed or on top of your kitchen cabinets if necessary. Be like a wacko survivalist prepper, but for office supplies. Go to estate sales and look for the home office in the house. Buy the dead person’s extra tape and staples and rulers and scissors. I’ve been using some random dead person’s staples for years because I bought their staple hoard. Staples aren’t like meat and milk. They don’t expire.

I’m against competition. Try to avoid competing with other artists for resources. If you don’t truly need the money, don’t ask for it. Artists should have a section on their CV where they list grants they could have easily gotten but didn’t apply for because they are privileged enough that they don’t need the money as much as someone else. I almost never apply for anything but the one thing I do apply for and get every year is a part-time faculty development grant from Columbia College Chicago where I teach. It pays adjuncts up to $2,500 a year to fund their projects and seems to be completely non-competitive. My union negotiated to get us more money. I have used that grant to make over a dozen publications. The value of the publications I make and sell with each grant is about three or four times the value of the grant itself. Some years I make more from the grant than I do from the limited number of classes I teach. But I don’t depend on this grant to be a publisher and I’d still be able to make things without it.

Make things in different price ranges so everyone can afford your work, but also so that you can sustain your practice. Make a publication that costs $2.00, that costs $6.00, that costs $20.00, and make something special for the fancy ass institutional libraries that have a lot of money to spare and can buy something that costs $300.00. Likewise, make things in all different size print runs. Is there something you can print 1,000 of that you can keep selling and giving away for years, to enjoy that quantity discount that comes with offset printing a large number of publications?

Collaborate with people and pay them with publications (if they are cool with that) that they can sell on their own. Sometimes this ends up being better pay and more useful than an honorarium, and it helps justify a larger print run. But see what they need—don’t assume. Barter with other publishers and sell each other’s work and let each other keep the money. This helps with distribution. Sometimes it’s easier to sell their work than it is to sell your own. Help others expand the audience for their publications.

Fund your publishing practice by asking your friends who teach to invite you to talk to their college classes about your work. Use those guest speaker fees to print something. I sometimes tell people on social media: If three or four people will invite me to speak to their class, it could fund the entire next issue of X booklet series that you like so much. This has often worked. Also, sometimes their students end up ordering publications. Sometimes lectures about publications generate more income than the publications themselves.

Have an emailing list and write newsletters to announce new publications. Stay in touch with people who like what you do. Expect to spend a ton of time corresponding with people. Have some cheap things and cool ephemera on hand that you can send people for free when they mail order your publications. Reward people who support you directly with something nice that they didn’t expect. People like handwritten notes. It’s okay if they are very short but sign the packing slip and at least write “Thank you!”

Above all, know that publishing is a life journey and not a get rich quick scheme, or even a make very much money scheme. Enjoy the experience of meeting and working with others, trade your publications with other publishers and build up an amazing library of small press, hard to find artist books. Get vaccinated and travel and sleep on each other’s couches. Be generous with your time, knowledge, resources, and work. Tell Jeff Bezos to fuck off by never selling anything you make through Amazon. Find the bookstores that you love and work with them forever. It’s nicer to have deeper relationships with fewer bookstores than surface level interactions with dozens of shops run by people you don’t know.

Think about your publishing family. Bookstore people are your family. People that organize book fairs and zine fests are your publishing family. Other publishers are your family. People who follow your work for years on end are your family. Printers and binderies are your family. The postal workers that know you by name and that you know by name are your family. The person who doesn’t care if you make the free copies at work is your family. Over thirty years later, I’m still in contact with people I exchanged zines with through the mail when I was a teenager. In some cases I still haven’t met them in person. It’s fine! They are my family. Your students are your family—particularly once they graduate or drop out, as long as they continue making books and zines. Your family is your family, particularly if they value and support your publishing practice. And for this reason, this talk is dedicated to my late father Bruce Fischer, who let me use the company copier and postage meter when I was in high school, and to my mom who sat on the floor with me and helped me hand collate and staple my zines.

That’s what I’ve got for now. Stay in touch and with luck, and enough vaccines and masks and hand sanitizer, maybe I’ll see you at a book fair. – Marc Fischer • Thank you to Be Oakley of GenderFail for the invitation to present, to the other presenters Vivian Sming, Yuri Ogita, and Devin Troy Strother, and to the wonderful people at Printed Matter for hosting this! You should be able to find the video archived on Printed Matter’s YouTube Channel.  Presented on April 2, 2021

[stellarscripts]

Statement from a different transcriber:

We started making the at-the-time unofficial Stellar Firma transcripts in April 2019 as a fan endeavor. Obviously, none of us expected they would ever be official, or even recognized by Rusty Quill. I was there from the start, but I am not the founder of the group nor the person who did the bulk of the work by any means.

In September 2020, we, along with a group of other fans of Rusty Quill, formed a discord server where we talked to Autumn (and emailed with Anil) questions about the transcript situation, and other accessibility concerns, such as closed captions on YouTube.

Rusty Quill approached the Stellar Firma team later that month asking to purchase our transcripts from us (and declining to purchase the existing TMA or RQG transcripts, for what it's worth).

It’s hard to argue the nebulous idea of "they should be investing in accessibility more” without providing clear steps and goals. I get it; they are investing as we speak. I am so thankful for all that they're doing, even if I do personally believe it could be expedited. Any progress is still progress, and I don't want to undersell how ecstatic I was when they came to us with the offer to buy our transcripts. I remember thinking “holy shit, this shows that Rusty Quill cares about this.”

I still believe that; obviously they care, or they wouldn’t have come to us in the first place, and obviously a company with a lot of disabled employees understands that accessibility is important. I'm not claiming that they don't, or besmirching their moral character, that's a ridiculous point to argue and would have us going in circles for days.

What is not hard to argue is this: they already paid us the money, we already gave them the transcripts, and said transcripts are not available through any of their channels.

If the issue with RQG transcripts is time and/or money, that is not the issue here: we already put in the time, and they already put in the money. The transcripts exist, and are ready to post. They have been since December 2020, when we finished our second round of checks for accuracy (though I understand that they would want to check it themselves, just to be safe).

This is not comparable to RQG, where they still need to invest time and money into working through the backlog. The backlog has been worked through, and the time and money has been invested, and… well, and nothing. 

And if your question is “well, this is something that’s easy to fix, they already paid you your money, so why aren’t you shutting up,” my response is because it's such a simple solution (throw up a temporary Google Drive while you get Sharepoint running, etc) it stings all the more to me that nothing has been done, that I have to link people my personal Google Drive when I recommend Stellar Firma to them, that when they ask if there's transcripts I have to include a “yes, and I helped make them, but...” addendum. 

When we completed the transfer in February, Anil said "I'm happy to confirm receipt and that they have been completed to our satisfaction." Now, in June, that is still all we have.

Rusty Quill obviously cares and obviously is trying, and I get from my own experience transcribing that something like complete transcripts for Rusty Quill Gaming is going to take a really long time.

But that doesn't change the fact that they have the Stellar Firma transcripts for seasons 1 and 2, formatted to their specifications, completed (in their own words) to their satisfaction, and they are, months later, still not being shared with the people who need them by the company who legally owns them; instead, those who need them are relying on fans who have no legal claim to them to maintain legally-questionable archives.

That’s the issue I have. That’s what I am currently fighting for. I want the money Rusty Quill invested (not to mention the time they’ve dedicated) to go to a good use. I want what we’ve done and what they’ve done to help people. That’s it.

(And, with no disrespect to Jessica’s reasoning for their decision to stop hosting them herself, all of the transcripts we made are available as .PDFs here. I am okay continuing to host them until Rusty Quill does. I may not own them anymore, but anyone who needs them is welcome to them. All I personally want is for people to have them, and to enjoy the show like I did.)

[iampikachuhearmeroar]

i know i’ve gone on about it before on posts about uni….. but one thing i couldn’t stand in uni was those internship companies that gave advice like “to pay for your living expenses while you’re on this program, start a gofundme and beg off your friends and family for your rent/bills/food!!!” but like dude. for many of these programs, you’re moving halfway across the world, like to the US/canada/the UK or even china and south east asia….. like the probable conglomerates that i could work for, should fucking well pay me for the length of time that im there???? just say these programs are specifically for rich kids who can rely on their friends and family who can afford to send bulk payments of like $1,000 for rent or car insurance or $500 for bills or whatever the fuck…. instead of lower income students who in the first place probably don’t have a spare $7,000-$10,000 for the initial payout fee for these types of programs. obvs this was way before covid. but since australia has opened its borders again, finally, international travel to the us & uk is on the cards again.

like how the fuck can someone move halfway across the fucking world for an internship and not get fucking paid???? absolutely fucking ridiculous and horrendous. like obvs there were options to do it in sydney, australia, which i live near. but even then, for the time i would’ve wasted travelling to and from work everyday, and doing bs internship things like getting a carrot cake (as a memory from business college from one of the girls in my class) for someone in the office, or idk doing inventory or spreadsheets or whatever else….. i should be getting paid something to reimburse me for the travel each day??? like 1hr 50mins to central sydney or over 2hrs (or sometimes longer) and two trains to some other part of sydney is a waste of my fucking time if i don’t get paid for my days work imo.

like i get everyone will say “oh but look at all the opportunities you MISSED to build your resume!!! that’s you’re own fault that you didn’t have money for the flashy international experience!!!” or “why would you turn down experience near you??? suck up the fact that you’re not getting paid, like an adult would, and grind through the internship experience and be humble to the employer for even taking you on! STOP thinking that you’re special and precious enough to get paid!!” but like. still. i deserve to get paid for trying to source that carrot cake or idek doing the basic excel spreadsheet work or whatever else i’m tasked with??? and more especially so if it’s an international experience!!!

and even though i could’ve been doing it domestically and i still live at home, i still have expenses that i’d like to have money for??? like meds. like clothes for the job??? like idk…. to save up for a car/buy a car so that i can drive to a northern suburb of my area to cut at least 25mins off of my train journey to sydney in the morning (even if it means sacrificing a seat for most of or the whole journey to sydney)??? pay your domestic interns too!!! and pay them for online versions as well, when lockdowns happen or they want to do online bc it’s more convenient for them.

like if i moved to fucking san francisco or ontario or london tomorrow for some flashy (but realistically shitty) boutique advertising firm or something else artsy (since i did english and philosophy) internship, i deserve to get paid if i’ve moved halfway across the world from australia. i shouldn’t have to “prove yourself (myself) to the employer for the privilege of getting paid and being able to feed yourself and have a roof over your head!” i should just get paid, period. it seems like a waste of my time, money, energy and mental health if i don’t get paid to work as an international intern… or let alone as an intern domestically as well.

like why the fuck should the one piece advice of all these companies to have money for living expense always be “start a gofundme for your living expenses so your friends & family can help you have this amazing chance at some international work experience 😊😊!!! be part of the grahsham intern fam today, and reap the AMAZING international benefits of this incredible program and what it can do for your career progression!! fast track yourself to success today!!! your friends and fam will understand!!!” like no!!! THE FUCKING COMPANY SHOULD FUCKING PAY ME DURING MY INTERNATIONAL WORK EXPERIENCE and also for setting up internationally!!!! and let’s not forget the other outside expenses like a passport and stuff. like i didn’t have a spare $500 or whatever to apply for a passport back when i was in uni, so i obvs couldn’t do international stuff.

but even for just doing the programs domestically in sydney, i should still get paid as an intern for wasting half my day travelling then working in idk roseberry in like the inner west for some type of social media marketing firm or whatever they’d pair me with as an english and philosophy grad. like. yeah. i just hate that these programs think that everyone can beg off their friends and family for living expenses, when the reality is that the stupid fucking host companies should pay the interns, most especially if they’ve moved internationally from their home country to do the program. and plus it would help them then have (hopefully, but realistically probs not) build up their savings again after spending like $10,000 (for me as an aussie) they’ve blown on these programs for perceived “job exposure and experience”. like i get these programs apparently come with “24hr career coaches” and meetups with other interns on the program and the diff streams they hire etc etc; and that’s rolled into the cost. but still. i should get fucking paid if i spent $10,000 on a program like this lmao.

just. my point is that all interns should be paid, period. but most especially if they’re doing an international program. no amount of “proving and humbling yourself for your intern employer for the privilege of earning your keep and having somewhere to sleep and eat” should be needed to be paid as an intern. just pay them for fucks sake. because otherwise it’s just a waste of time & money; and even more so for lower income students, who will obvs not take part if there’s an exorbitant fee of $7,000 minimum for the program for starters even if it’s domestic or online (since covid).

[zumpietoo]

Yup, it’s a terrible interview and doesn’t make sense because what is Lili promoting? Herself? Her induction as a cult master that she wants her young fans to spend ridiculous amounts of money on? The fact that she has a fancy house? If she’s promoting Riverdale, she still has months until they even finish airing this current seasons. There was no point to this interview but let’s also remember this is a no name magazine. Has anyone even heard of it before today?

I certainly hadn't----I think she's just realiced she's nowhere near as near as popular as she was just two years ago....and it's starting to hit home. I also think she already knows she's about to "star" in another dud and is trying to get out in front of that....

Meanwhile, I couldn't help similarly noticing her attempts at being relatable/humble bragging as she attempted, yet again, to both push the "poor college student" and rationalize why she bought a house in the first place....except, OFC, it continues to read hollow:

First off, she certainly doesn't need to explain to anybody WHY she bought A house or even that house, so better left unsaid....however, her reason is beyond fucking stupid, "I needed a yard".....yet you bought an absurdly huge, bourgeois mcmansion----that boast a grassy area actually the size of a postage stamp. The bulk of her back yard is concrete and pool....which, obviously, was what she wanted, so dude, no need to pretend.

To say nothing of she continues to sublet an apartment in Vancouver, where she actually spends the bulk of the year---and both her sublets actually had bigger grassy areas in their yards for Milo....

Secondly, the air mattress bullshit......I even now question that's what she slept on when she crashed at Tay's (and, again, LBR, Lili had been a working actress for four years at that point----and even pre-Plaiderdale casting, actually had a much better first year in Hollywood in terms of booking shit than do most newcomers....in fact, I'm quite confident SlaveTay would be happy with Lili's first year in Hollywood, right now....)----and it certainly wasn't when she moved into her new house.

Lili knew her moving day for 30, possibly 45 days (not sure how long escrow is in LA)----and while, maybeeee she couldn't get her FREE fancee mattress delivered on time (doubtful, given, again, the lead time)----she certainly could've gotten A mattress or a sleeper couch/chair, futon, etc....

And, since it's a five bedroom house, would've certainly found a place for it----even if it wasn't ultimately for the master bedroom....

Or she could've given it to a friend later, donated it, etc....

I was buying new stuff for my house during this same time frame and once I had the cash and had found an affordable pair of beds for Claudia and myself, they were delivered within a couple of days....and, again, I mentioned affordable, because I'm not a millionaire celebrity, for whom money wouldn't have been an object...Walmart (which Lili and Amy love) have mattresses that can arrive in as little as two days.

If you're gonna bother to go out and buy an air mattress, why wouldn't you have bought a real mattress? Or stayed in a hotel/air bnb a night or two longer? Or mooched off SlaveTay? In fact Amy visited to sign shit, where did SHE sleep?

Again, Lili's air mattress narratives are as fabricated as Ann Romney's tales of grad school poverty in her early marriage to Mittens during his 2012 run. SHE claimed their "dining room table was an ironing board". Probably because the last comic she read was Blondie and Dagwood.

It's painfully artificial, disingenuous and, ironically, utterly pointless. This was all a year ago, Lili, you don't need to rationalize or justify how you choose to spend your money-----and it doesn't make you more likable or relatable....

Oh, also? As has been pointed out....you also don't get to claim body positivity/okay with imperfection......when you're botoxed to hell and back----and still editing everything in sight.