#he really has just been here and gorgeous my whole damn life | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

here2bbtstrash · 1 year

Text

real magic (explicit)

genre: smut, fluff, bangin’ your boss, m attempts kidfic - part of a hyung holiday collab !

pairing: namjoon x reader

summary: the holiday season has never meant anything to you beyond suffering long hours for minimum wage and awaiting the collapse of capitalism— but this year, you’d be willing to add making out with your dilf coffee shop boss to the list.

word count: 16.7k 😩

contains: ~*~explicit sexual content (after kind of a slow burn sorry lol)~*~ the "moving back to your hometown" hallmark trope, a nick jonas poster (yes that's a warning), some taekook slander in the beginning because i thought it was funny, namjoon is so buff and so dumb but so wise and so hot, moni is a little shit, namjoon is a dad!, namjoon's kid uses they/them pronouns but it's not like A Focus of the story it's just flavor, reader thinks joon has a dead wife for like one second 💀 mentions of teenage pregnancy and co-parenting, one incredibly stupid asshole customer lmao, mint choco slander (it's what namjoon would want 😌), obviously there is an employee/boss power dynamic but they talk about it and figure it out because this is namjoon and he overthinks everything, namjoon driving (he's a dad i have to assume he would get his license if he had a literal child!!!!!!!!) and a lotta sentimental holiday and life talk. here are ur sex specific warnings: making out/going to second base in a car in a parking lot (what is it with my namjoons and cars in parking lots yo), fingering, semi-drunk sex, and fuckin' rawwwww with a smidge of size and breeding kink lmao (but she's on the pill!!! no more kids!!!!!!)

A/N: hello hello hi merry crisis this damn fic is finally here lmao~ as i have been babbling on about for days i really really (REALLY) love how this namjoon turned out he's just hesjkrgdhtgk such a fucking himbo but a good dad and wise and did i mention hot aaaaaa 🫠 all the love in my gay little heart to @goodsoop for their barista wisdom and real life experiences that went into this one (the cookie story will never not make me laugh) ! and to @sailoryooons for beta reading this 50 million times and encouraging me when i was convinced it sucked ass, and also for making all the gorgeous banners for this collab 😭

which btw - be sure to go check out @gimmethatagustd & @sailoryooons & @nabiolive 's fics tooooo !!! i've loved collabing with them so very much even when we were all hashtag Going Through It, we got the whole damn hyung line you hear meeeeee 🎁🎁🎁🎁

read on AO3!

Rudely awoken by the incessant beep of your alarm, you open your eyes to find Nick Jonas staring back at you, and you sit up with a scream.

Realization washes over your sleep-addled brain in waves: first, that you aren’t actually staring at a real person. He’s just smizing on a hot pink poster, held up by some remarkably durable masking tape you stuck to the wall fifteen years ago. Second, it comes back to you that you are staring at said poster because you’ve woken up in your childhood bedroom. It’s been left untouched since you were a teenager, like a weird time capsule of all your high school obsessions.

After reaching for your phone to silence the alarm, you kick your way out from under the blankets, trying not to make eye contact with Nick, or Justin, or Zayn as you stumble to the bathroom. The circumstances of your grand return to living in your goddamn parents’ house linger like a bad taste in your mouth, one that all the tongue brushing in the world can’t remove.

It still doesn’t feel real. Taehyung, your best friend in the world since freshman year of college, kicked you out. Sure, it may have been phrased more like a gentle request, but as far as your ego is concerned, it still feels like exile. Banishment, even. The person you thought you could never be parted from made his choice, and he chose his fucking boyfriend over you.

Jungkook. You think the name with all the venom your cold, dead heart can manage as you spit toothpaste into the sink.

Jungkook, the weird, bug-eyed kid who put his toe-socked feet on your couch, drank his banana milk out of your favorite mug, and ate up all of your Samyang ramyeon because he ‘thought it was communal’.

Jungkook, who ruined your sleep schedule nightly, either by fucking Taehyung senseless on the other side of your paper-thin apartment wall, or by blasting the same four Ariana Grande songs over and over on his bluetooth speaker and singing along in an annoyingly good voice. Either activity would go on well into the early hours of the morning, until you had to bang on the wall so hard you nearly put your fist through it.

Jungkook, whose dog once took a shit right on the floor in the middle of the kitchen.

Bam was cute enough to forgive, of course. But you can never forgive Taehyung for his betrayal. Especially when he knew you’d just been fired from your shitty coffee shop job for the stupidest reason ever, and he didn’t let that derail or even delay him. He still went ahead and delivered the killing blow.

Et tu, Taehyung? you think angrily to yourself as you stand in front of the suitcase containing as much of your closet as you could possibly fit. You still need to go back for your bigger furniture, and little things like your plates and your mugs and your silverware, which Jungkook is probably putting his grimy little fingers all over at this very moment. But until you’ve checked out of your indefinite vacation at the Nightmare Parental Hotel, there doesn’t really seem a point.

If you were less upset, you might take consolation in the fact that your parents aren’t actually here, that they’ve jaunted off to their timeshare until the new year, but you’re busy being too swallowed whole by your misery to find an ounce of joy in any piece of your current reality.

You dig through the pile of clothes until you manage to pull out something halfway decent. The first order of business now that you’ve moved back in is simple: acquire another stupid coffee shop job. You have no plans to stick around long, you just need something seasonal that will give you some meager income while you start looking for a real gig, one that is ideally not in your hometown.

Watching yourself in the mirror as you pull on a simple black blouse and your least-stained pair of jeans, you attempt to mentally dust off your interview skills. You conjure up your best fake smile and customer service voice, both of which are second-nature at this point.

Why do you want this job? “I’m just so passionate about coming home sticky and verbally abused by caffeine-addicted assholes every night.”

What’s your biggest weakness? “Clearly it’s the fact that I’m a ray of fucking sunshine.”

Why were you terminated from your last job? “Oh, well, I attempted to get my previous employer to improve their standards of worker treatment. You see, I selfishly requested that they raise the bar a single notch above hell. Certainly won’t happen again!”

This should go well, you tell yourself, and your reflection grimaces back.

With several hours to kill before your job interview and a growing desire to avoid the weird nostalgia of your childhood that seems to lurk in every corner of your parents’ house, you decide to take a walk.

The sky is bright blue and cloudless, and though the air is brisk, it isn’t terribly windy. You tuck in your earbuds as you shut the front door behind you and pick a direction, aimless, letting your mind wander to the soundtrack of your “seasonal depression” playlist.

A whole new crop of families must have moved into your parents’ neighborhood in the years since you moved out, because the streets are more alive with kids than you can ever remember them being, even when you were a kid yourself. Bikes and scooters lay abandoned on the sidewalks between homes, and you can hear the repeated echo of a basketball dribbling on a driveway, punctuated by distant, playful screaming.

Even in the daytime, you can tell these families have spared no expense when it comes to Christmas decor: some homes have every eave outlined in string lights, some have candy cane stakes dug into the perimeter of their perfectly manicured lawns, and some have been seemingly invaded by small armies of inflatable reindeer and snowmen. You can’t help but giggle a little at the inflatable decorations that have been set to turn off during the day, the way the airless material lays limp in the grass, giving the impression of a yard strewn with dead bodies.

But you remember what it looked like when you drove in last night, everything lit up and brought to life.

Your parents definitely didn’t have inflatable lawn decorations when you were a kid, but you’d get so excited every year when your dad would drag the ladder out and spend the day stringing up the simple rainbow lights you did have. You still remember the little spark of joy you’d feel in your chest when the colors would click on after dark, the way you would run outside every night just to see them twinkle, your breath puffing steam clouds in the air, your bare feet freezing on the ice-cold driveway.

It felt like magic then. But somewhere along the way you grew up. And now that feeling’s gone. Even at night, the lights just look like… lights.

Distracted as you are by the music in your ears and thoughts of your childhood that have brought you to a standstill on the sidewalk, you don’t notice what’s happening until it’s too late.

A blur of red and white is suddenly circling around and between your legs, and you feel something twining over your ankles, then tugging with a force that threatens to knock you off balance. As you lean forward in an attempt to right yourself, the chaos in question slows enough for you to realize it’s a fluffy white dog in a red sweater, who has excitedly tangled you up in his leash.

You manage to find the looped end of the leash and slowly get yourself unwrapped while the dog continues to pant and jump and occasionally yap at you. With your legs freed, you squat down for a proper greeting, laughing to yourself as he lifts up on his hind legs, balancing his paws on your knee to lick an enthusiastic greeting across your cheek.

“Hi, puppy,” you murmur, trying to get him to hold still long enough to read the name on his tag. A voice beats you to it.

“Moni!”

When you glance up to find Moni’s owner jogging up the sidewalk, you have to make a conscious effort to keep your own tongue in your mouth, because good lord, he is fine.

He’s tall, towering over you even once you bring yourself back up to standing, and the black workout tank and athletic shorts he’s wearing do absolutely nothing to hide the thick, well-defined muscles of his arms, chest, and thighs.

Despite his lack of clothing in the cool winter air, you can see his face and neck are slick with sweat, his white-blonde hair damp with it too. There’s even a dark patch that’s soaked his shirt at his sternum, making the firm swell of his pecs that much more apparent. It takes you an extra second to break eye contact with them, but when you do finally manage to drag your gaze up to meet his, you realize his face is just as nice of a view: honey-tan skin, full lips, and cute dimples that pop as he gives a sheepish, appreciative laugh.

“Thank you,” he says, a little breathless; his voice is deep and slightly husky in a way that makes your face grow hot. You blink stupidly at him for a few moments, your mind reeling, and then it occurs to you that you still have his dog’s leash in your hand.

“No problem,” you manage, handing the looped end back over and double-checking to make sure your ankles are still free from their entanglement. Though now that this man is holding the leash, you kind of wish they weren’t.

“Moni’s usually good about not taking off when I stop to do a circuit,” he explains, like you’re the dog owner police. It makes you wonder what kind of Karens must have moved into this neighborhood since you left it. “I don’t know why he ran, maybe he saw a squirrel or something.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him with a smile, admiring Moni as he stretches and settles into a polite seated pose. “I like his sweater.”

“Thanks,” he laughs again. “C’mon Mon.”

You can’t help focusing on how big this guy’s hands are as he slips his fingers through the end of Moni’s leash, tugging slightly as if to encourage the dog back in the direction he came from.

Moni blinks and stays right where he is.

“You little shit,” his owner huffs under his breath, and you have to bite down on your bottom lip to keep from laughing. You distantly realize you should probably leave them to it and continue on your walk, but this is too entertaining to turn away from now. Your hot neighbor tries one more futile attempt to get Moni to move, then seems to give up entirely.

He stoops down with a low grunt of effort that makes your core flutter as he grabs the fluffy dog and hoists him up in his arms. You try to force yourself to stop noticing the way his biceps flex, the fact that the muscles of his arms are nearly bigger than your head.

“Thanks again,” he says with a final grateful smile, and your only response is to swallow hard and stand there like an idiot as he turns and carries his spoiled dog back home.

When you arrive for your interview, you’re delighted to discover that Indigo Coffee is nothing like your last job. It’s warm and bright, with large picture windows that flood the space in sunlight, and there’s a cozy personal touch to it, the likes of which you’d certainly never see in your former corporate shell of a workplace. The sitting area is dotted with live edge wood tables and mismatched chairs. There are an array of framed paintings on the walls that look handmade in a good way, simple yet bold brush-stroke lines in a deep blue color scheme. And, you realize as your eyes linger, the shop is absolutely overflowing with plants: in simple clay pots lined up along the windows, free-standing between tables, and tucked into bookshelves placed artfully throughout the space.

You step closer to inspect one as you wait on your interviewer and are pleased to see that it’s real, that they all are— no waxy fake leaves jammed into a thick block of cement, but real greenery sprouted in real dirt, deep brown soil gone soft from what must have been a recent watering. These are plants someone cares for, coaxed and kept alive by someone’s time and patience and love. The thought makes you smile a little despite yourself.

There’s still fucking Christmas music playing, but you figure that’s inescapable this time of year.

“Are you here for the interview?” someone asks over your shoulder. As you turn away from the plant, you wonder if you’re imagining that the voice in question sounds slightly familiar, and then you find yourself once again staring up at a fine-ass man with white-blonde hair and a sweet pair of dimples.

He’s clearly showered since your last encounter, and is now slightly more covered up in a pair of faded jeans and a gray-green flannel thrown over a black shirt emblazoned with bold white lettering: Protect Trans Kids.

“Oh.” Moni’s owner blinks back at you, and the shock on his face is so apparent that a giggle escapes your lips before you can stop it. “Uh, hi again.”

“Hi,” you echo, equally flustered, before realizing you failed to answer his initial question. “Oh, yeah. Yes. I am. The interview. I’m— that’s me.” So well-spoken, you mentally kick yourself.

One dimple deepens slightly as he extends a hand. “Kim Namjoon. Owner of Indigo Coffee. And the world’s least obedient dog, as you saw earlier.”

You offer your best handshake in return and a smile that you surprisingly don’t have to force as you give Namjoon your name. He gestures to a table in the corner, and you each pull back a chair to have a seat. You try to banish any potential horny thoughts from your brain, but shifting into interview mode proves difficult as he rests his large hands on the table in front of him, drumming idly along to the horribly cheery music.

You manage to tear your gaze away from Namjoon’s fingers when he speaks again. “If it’s cool with you, we can just chat a little? I’m not so good at conducting formal interviews. Too inauthentic.”

It’s like you can feel some of the tension release from your shoulders. “I— yeah. That sounds great.”

“Cool,” he nods, and you try to ignore the rush of heat up your neck at the intensity of his stare. Professional, be professional. “So I saw on your resume that it looks like your last few jobs were out of town. Did you just move here?”

“Moved back,” you say quickly. “Yeah. I grew up here, actually.”

Namjoon’s eyes widen a little in clear interest. “Really? What brings you back?”

You purse your lips as you consider how to phrase it. “My life… kind of fell apart. So. I moved in with my parents for a bit. Like a winner.” His dimples pop when he smiles at your joke, and you drop your gaze to the table. “Just trying to figure out what’s next, and find something seasonal in the meantime.”

“Well, we could certainly use the help,” Namjoon admits. When you chance a glance up, there’s a look on his face like he’s choosing his next words carefully. “I saw in your application that you were terminated from your last position.” He leans in, lowering his voice slightly as he continues. “I’m gonna be honest, I hate that we even ask that question. But can you tell me a bit about what happened?”

You keep your stare fixed on the wood grain in front of you as you try to stay calm. “Well, if I can be honest too...” Squeezing your eyes shut, you tell yourself to just say it. “I was fired for trying to unionize.”

“Oh.” Namjoon sounds surprised, but you can’t manage to look at him. “Really?” You nod slowly, biting down on your bottom lip. “That’s— fucking illegal.”

That makes your gaze snap back up to meet his. His brow is furrowed slightly, a muscle in his jaw pulled tight.

“Yeah,” you say belatedly. “Yeah, I know. They made up a bunch of fake excuses as to why I was fired, but I knew what it really was. It was because I wanted them to actually pay us what we were worth, and hire more workers so we weren’t being scheduled to death. And I was getting everyone else riled up too, and I guess it scared them.”

Namjoon sits back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. “Huh. Man. Well, I’m sorry that happened to you.”

It takes you a second to process what you’re hearing. Union has always been a scary word for any person in upper management you’ve previously encountered. You hadn’t expected this to be so… easy. For him to understand, or sympathize. “I— yeah. I am too.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Namjoon continues quickly, “I think it’s great, what you tried to do. I’m very pro-union.” He pauses for a moment, his face twisting slightly in thought. “I mean, admittedly, we don’t have one here. Granted, there are only five of us. I should probably ask, though, if they want one.”

You can’t quite hide your smile. “I’m gonna take a guess that you probably treat your employees pretty well as-is.”

“I try,” he says with a shake of his head. His eyes meet yours again. “So, here’s the deal. You have a ton of experience, and with holiday time off and a few people out sick, I’m super understaffed right now. You seem like you have a good head on your shoulders, and hopefully you feel like you can come to me if you have any issues, without fearing retaliation.”

You blink slowly, and he must be able to read the disbelief on your face. “What I’m saying is I’m offering you the seasonal position,” he clarifies. “Is that— do you, uh, accept?”

“Yes.” The word is chased by a dazed laugh, and Namjoon’s dimples resurface around a small smile.

“Cool. I told you I’m bad at interviews,” he huffs, rubbing a hand at the back of his neck. You try to ignore the swell of his bicep, clearly visible even beneath his bulky flannel. “I know this is a lot to ask, but. Is there any chance you can start, like, right now? Because Jimin’s shift ends in…” He tilts a little, fishing his phone from the front pocket of his jeans, and his mouth drops open in surprise when he gets a glimpse at the time.

“Oh, shit,” Namjoon murmurs, and then he raises his voice to call across the mostly empty store. “Jimin-ah! I’m so sorry!”

You turn around, your gaze landing on the barista leaned up against the counter next to the register. His dyed-gray hair dusts over his eyes, which pull into crescent moons as he laughs. “It’s cool. I knew you were almost done. But I’m gonna clock out now, if she’s good?”

“Yeah,” you answer, turning back to Namjoon. “Yeah, I can start now.”

The two of you move behind the counter, and you sweep your hair up out of your face while Namjoon starts to go through a basic run-down of where everything is located. The overhead bell tinkles as Jimin shoulders the front door open, and he lifts a hand over his head in parting.

“See you after the holidays!”

“Alright,” Namjoon says as he waves to Jimin, a little breathless from having rambled on for the better part of several minutes. “That was a lot. Do you want to just start on register? I feel like that should be easy enough, and I can train you on everything as people come in, since it’s pretty dead right now.”

You shrug. “Works for me.”

Within half an hour, there’s a line out the door, and Namjoon has managed to spill espresso grounds all over his shoes for a second time.

“Ah, shit,” he groans, taking a step back. “Sorry. Been a minute since I’ve had to be back here.”

“It’s okay,” you try to reassure him, but you can see from the faces of the customers who have been waiting on their drinks for several minutes— including one who’s had hers remade three times, all of them incorrect— that it is very much not okay. You certainly lack the people skills to smooth over any of Namjoon’s mistakes, and you can feel a stress-induced eye twitch starting to flare up, brought on by Kelly Clarkson’s incessant yuletide belting.

You give your boss five more minutes, wherein he scalds his hand on the milk steamer, forgets about a cookie in the warmer until it’s burnt entirely black, and nearly turns the blender on with the lid off, before you finally intervene.

“Hey, Namjoon?” You do your best to keep your expression pleasant when he glances over at you, wiping at his brow with the back of his hand. “Maybe we should switch?”

“A-are you sure?” he stammers, apparently torn between wanting to be a good boss and a clear desire to just take the L. “I feel bad, this is literally your first shift.”

“I think I can handle it,” you reassure him, lowering your voice a little. “Let me take care of the drinks, and you can do your… endearing golden retriever thing. Keep the people entertained.”

Color blooms in the apples of his cheeks as his dimples make a brief appearance. “Oh, okay. Can do. Just let me know if you need help.”

You can’t imagine a universe where his clumsiness could in any way be considered helpful, but you keep that thought to yourself as you smile at him. At least he’s cute.

Things improve dramatically once your roles are reversed: as you expected, Namjoon is far more charismatic than he is coordinated, and he chats endlessly with the people waiting on their drinks, hardly pausing long enough to take a breath, while you scramble around trying to get your bearings in a new environment. The steady stream of customers doesn’t let up for the rest of the evening, until the last few finally trickle out of the store a few minutes after close, and you waste no time locking the door behind them with a sigh of relief.

You spin around, letting your back thud against the door for a moment as you watch Namjoon fight with a broom and dustpan in a futile attempt to get espresso dust out of the grout between the tiles. There’s a dull ache starting to thud in your skull, and it’s only deepened by the shrill opening notes of another fucking a cappella song.

“Namjoon?” you ask as you cross toward the counter, and his head instantly snaps up. “Do you think we could maybe turn off the Christmas music?”

“Oh, sure.” He’s already fumbling to grab his phone, and he taps a few buttons until the music suddenly switches, a soft voice starting to croon over an old school beat.

“Thanks,” you say, and you can’t help the pity smile that pulls up your mouth when he returns to his useless task. “I think the grout might be a lost cause, but I can go ahead and mop whenever you’re ready.”

He rights himself with a defeated sigh, nodding his head to the storage closet in the back. You follow his lead to retrieve the mop, then set about filling up the bucket with water and cleaning solution. Namjoon’s voice floats in from the front of the shop as he busies himself with his own closing tasks.

“Imagine smokin’ weed in the street without cops harassin’ / Imagine goin’ to court with no trial / Lifestyle cruisin’ blue Bahama waters / No welfare supporters, more conscious of the way we raise our daughters...”

You’re laughing a little as you roll the bucket out, starting at the door to work your way back. “Is this… Nas?”

He glances up, like he’s just remembered other people exist in the world. “Yeah, sorry. I can turn it off.”

“No, no,” you say quickly when he starts to reach for his phone again. “This is good. Much better than Pentatonix. I’m just… you really know every word.”

Namjoon shrugs, clearly embarrassed. “He’s my favorite.”

The revelation surprises you, and you pause to think as you pull the mop back and forth over the tile floor. It didn’t even occur to you that Namjoon would have a favorite kind of music, apart from the soft elevator muzak you imagine must play on a steady loop in his brain, given the way he fumbles through life.

“I actually wanted to be a rapper,” his voice comes back, and you look up again, your interest piqued. “When I was younger. But you know. Life had other plans.”

“Ah yes, the rapper to coffee shop owner pipeline,” you muse, and he barks a laugh that you wish you didn’t find so hot. Shaking your head, you force yourself to look back down at the espresso-studded tile, doing your best to shove your attraction aside and not think about it. He’s your boss, dumbass.

Still, it’s hard to ignore, particularly as he continues to rap along to each song that comes on, his voice deeper and huskier than you’ve heard it thus far in casual conversation. He doesn’t miss a word, and you can’t deny that it’s impressive. And sexy. Fuck.

Once the floor has been successfully mopped and everything else is put back together, you hop up onto the counter to wait for the tile to dry, and your gaze lingers over Namjoon’s large hands as he cashes out the register. He flips through the bills in time to the music, still humming under his breath as he goes, and you do your best to hold in your laugh when he inevitably loses count and has to start over from the beginning. Thankfully the second attempt sticks, and he smiles proudly to himself as he zips everything up into the deposit bag.

“First shift down,” he announces, as if you might have forgotten, and then his eyes find yours and you swear your breath gets stuck in your throat. “How do you feel?”

It only occurs to you now how close he’s standing to you, and with the way your legs are casually dangling over the edge of the counter, it wouldn’t take much for him to step between them. And god, he’s so damn tall, you’re practically eye-to-eye.

“Uh,” you manage, your mouth suddenly gone dry. “Good. I feel good.”

“That’s good,” he answers, his voice dipping into that throaty tone again. You find yourself wondering absentmindedly if maybe Namjoon has a customer service voice, too, and then for the briefest flash of a moment, his gaze flits from your eyes to your lips and back again. It’s so quick, you can’t be sure it even really happened.

You tell yourself it’s just your exhausted post-shift brain seeing things that aren’t there, wanting this fine-ass man to be into you, too.

A sudden bang on the front door makes you flinch so hard, you come dangerously close to kneeing Namjoon in the crotch. He takes a large step back as you whip around to look over your shoulder, only to see a kid’s face pressed to the glass, framed by two small hands. You’ve never been great at telling the age of children on sight, but this one looks like… maybe a middle schooler?

“Whose fucking kid is that?” you say automatically, blinking, dumbfounded. Namjoon’s laugh is a low rumble behind you.

“That would be mine.”

It takes several days for the shock to wear off. Your boss has a kid. Kim “could’ve burnt the building down with a single cookie” Namjoon is at least partially responsible for keeping another human being alive. Which means you have a crush… on a father.

A father who also happens to be your boss.

You try not to think about any of it.

There’d been brief introductions when you left the shop that first night, but all you’d really managed to glean was the kid’s name, Sol, and their pronouns. As someone who is historically terrible with children, you’d excused yourself the minute Namjoon locked the front door, after what felt like an eternity spent watching him pat each of his pockets twice before he finally managed to find his keys.

“I hope it wasn’t weird,” your boss says out of nowhere in the middle of your next shift, during a much-needed moment of peace after the morning rush. “For you to meet Sol like that. It’s just been hard, since their mom, uh…”

Namjoon trails off, leaving the sentence unfinished. You glance up, eyes widening as you put the pieces together.

“Oh my god,” you breathe. “I’m so sorry.”

His gaze meets yours, and it’s like you can see the wheels in his head turning before he catches up. “No, no,” he says quickly, and then he starts to laugh. “Wow, I really did not start that sentence well. She’s not dead. She just got married, and she’s on her honeymoon for most of December. The logistics have been hard, is what I meant.”

An embarrassed heat creeps up your neck, and your elbows thud against the countertop as you press your face into your hands, attempting to muffle your own laughter. “In my defense,” you groan, “you really made it sound like you had a dead wife.”

“Not dead! She’s fine!” Namjoon’s dimples are as prominent as you’ve ever seen them when you peek up at him from your full-body cringe. “Very much alive, very much not my wife.” The muscles in his arms flex as he crosses them over his chest, leaning up against the counter next to the register. “Never was, actually.”

“Really?” you answer automatically, your damned curiosity getting the better of you.

He nods, his voice a little more serious when he continues, rambling on in the way that you’ve already started to suspect is his default setting, talking as if to fill empty space. “We were seventeen when we got pregnant. I knew we were young then, but I don’t think I really realized. Now that I’m almost thirty, I know: seventeen is fucking young.”

The line of his jaw tightens, thoughtful, as his gaze sweeps over the floor. “I thought I wanted to marry her, or at least felt obligated to. Like it was the right thing to do, but. We didn’t have any money, and then it all got so hectic after Sol was born. Didn’t even take a year for us to realize it wasn’t gonna work, not for us.”

You blink, trying to take in all the new information. “That sounds really hard.”

“It was,” Namjoon admits. “But we were both on the same page about it. That no matter what, Sol had to come first.” He glances up with a shrug. “It’s all good now. She’s a great co-parent, and her new husband is really good for her. And… well, I have Indigo.”

The tinkling of the bell at the front door snaps you out of a daze, makes you realize you’ve been staring at him, dumbfounded. You do your best to shoot Namjoon a soft smile, and to ignore the pang in your chest as he turns to greet the customer that’s just wandered in, already starting to babble on about the weather.

You find yourself more grateful for Namjoon’s presence with each passing shift, in a way that you try to convince yourself is thoroughly platonic. Between fairly steady work and his very steady chatter, your time spent in the warm, sunny space of Indigo turns out to be a good distraction from your own miserable excuse for a life. The repetitive motions of making drink after drink are oddly comforting, and you have to admit, Namjoon really is good with the customers.

“Peppermint mocha to go.”

You do your best to follow up the sentence with a polite smile as you set a drink down for the customer who has done nothing but scowl at you the whole time you were making it. The silent prayer you’ve sent out to the universe that he’ll take whatever personal problem he has elsewhere and leave you alone has clearly gone unanswered.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he snaps, and you can feel your shoulders creep up towards your ears in anticipation of nothing good. Here we fucking go.

You blink twice, trying to keep your service persona engaged. “I’m sorry, is that not what you ordered?” It is, you know it is, you heard him say it.

“No, that’s mine,” the man quickly responds, reaching out to snatch the cup in a motion that makes you flinch. “But do you hear this fucking song?”

The honest answer is no: at this point the ever-present Christmas music might as well be white noise, so you have to make a conscious effort to tune back in and listen. It’s a few seconds, and then you pick up on the melody. “…Last Christmas?”

“Uh, yeah,” he continues, explaining like you’re stupid. “The original. Last Christmas by Wham!” When it’s clear you still aren’t putting the pieces together, he scoffs in pure frustration. “You just made me lose Whamageddon! I’ve won every year for the last five years, I can’t believe you would even put this on your fucking playlist!”

Your face pulls into an incredulous grimace before you can think to control it. “Uh, I’m sorry, but I didn’t make the—”

He cuts you off. “First off, I don’t need the fucking attitude. And surely you’re at least capable of checking what songs are on there, right? That’s not too advanced for you to handle?”

You didn’t even hear Namjoon walk up from the back office, but he’s suddenly stepping in front of you, and you’re more than glad to move back and let him handle this dude before you end up in jail. “Woah, woah, alright,” Namjoon interjects, his voice loud enough to carry. “What’s going on?”

The man beats you to it. “I’m trying to file a legitimate complaint and she’s rolling her fucking eyes and getting an attitude with me!”

“It’s the song,” you explain briefly, trying to keep everything about your expression neutral. “He’s mad that we’re… playing Wham.”

Namjoon’s face twists in an expression that you would find funny if you weren’t so fucking livid, one that you’re pretty sure is the mirror image of your own reaction minutes earlier. “The song? Seriously?”

You can see the guy scrambling, clearly starting to get embarrassed at his own dramatics. “Alright, I don’t have time for this. I guess I just need to take my business elsewhere, because this is ridiculous. What ever happened to the customer is always right?”

Namjoon goes silent for a minute, and you try to ignore the way the look on his face makes your pulse quicken, thudding brightly in the hollow of your neck. His voice is deadly serious when he speaks again. “I appreciate that you’re upset, but if you’re going to look my employee in the face, after she just performed a service for you, and disrespect her like that? Over a fucking song? Nah, I’m not gonna tolerate it. Maybe the next time you want someone to make you a toothpaste drink, you should take your ass to Starbucks.”

It takes every ounce of strength you have to keep the reaction off your face until the asshole has stormed out the front door, nasty drink in hand. As the bell finally tinkles to signal his departure, you collapse forward, just barely catching yourself on the counter so you don’t crumple straight down to the floor.

“Oh my god.” Your laugh of disbelief comes out more like a groan, at the ridiculous complaint and your boss’ insanely attractive comeback alike. “I fucking hate this time of year.”

“Hey.” The word is punctuated by Namjoon’s shoulder bumping into yours, and you look back up at him, still laughing a little at your own misery. His eyes search yours, sincere. “Assholes are assholes no matter what season it is. I’m sure that guy finds plenty of things to complain about the other eleven months of the year, too. Don’t let him ruin it for you.”

You can’t help rolling your eyes, if only because you can do it freely now, without a man standing over you and yelling about your ‘bad attitude’. “I guess,” you huff. “And thank you.”

Namjoon shakes his head, like it’s nothing. “Chin up, okay?”

The two of you breeze through closing that night, familiar enough to fall into a steady routine now. You’re wiping everything down behind the counter and humming along to Tupac when Namjoon’s voice drags you back out of your thoughts in a way you’ve already grown accustomed to.

“You know…”

You glance up, only to realize that he’s started to flip chairs on top of tables to clear the floor, and is grabbing them two at a time, one in each hand. The image makes you a little dizzy, and you tell yourself to focus on his words, not his biceps.

“I think we make a pretty good team,” he concludes.

“Yeah,” you breathe, trying to keep your composure at the unexpected compliment. “I was thinking the same thing. And thanks again for, you know. Handling that guy.”

Namjoon shrugs, like it’s nothing. “Hey, you’re doing me a favor, taking this seasonal job. I’m not about to let anyone fuck with you.”

You bite down on a smile as you head towards the back to grab the mop, and then you hear a loud bang on the front door— it’s another sound you’ve gotten used to in your brief time at Indigo. There’s the click of the deadbolt, chased by the tinkling overhead bell and Namjoon’s chiding voice. “Homie, if you break my door I’m gonna make you get a job to pay me back for it.”

“You think I don’t know about child labor laws?” you hear Sol retort, clearly not intimidated, and the attitude in their voice has you biting back a laugh.

Wheeling the mop bucket out of the storage closet, you glance up to see Namjoon jut his chin toward the large front window, indicating Sol to take a seat on the ledge. “Feet off the floor, she’s tryna clean.”

Sol complies, plopping down in the window with their eyes glued to their phone as Namjoon disappears back toward the office to grab his things. You watch as Sol pulls their knees into their chest so their chunky black boots clear the tile, and you can’t help noticing that said boots are adorned with oversized silver bat-shaped buckles, reflecting the amber streetlight gleam that leaks through the window.

“I like your boots,” you say, more to yourself than Sol, half expecting them to be so engrossed in TikTok that they don’t even hear you.

But to your surprise, Sol looks up.

“Thanks,” they say, glancing at their feet. “I just got them. I’m in my post-hardcore era right now.”

The statement is delivered without a trace of irony, and you do your best to hold in another amused giggle as you respond. “Wow, you are… so much cooler than I was when I was your age.”

Sol seems to consider this for a moment, then shrugs. “I mean, you didn’t have the internet back then, right?”

The question hits you like a train, and you have to pause and press a hand over your heart at the impact. “Okay, ouch, I’m not that old.” They grimace apologetically, and you lean up against the mop handle in thought. “But the internet definitely wasn’t like it is now. The only social media that really existed was Myspace, and my parents wouldn’t let me make one. I mostly just used the internet to, like, play RuneScape.”

“Oh shit,” Sol remarks, sounding remarkably like Namjoon in the process. “You played old school?!”

It’s like you can feel your bones crumbling to dust inside your body, and you wince as you resume dragging the mop over the tile. “Hey, back then it was the only kind of RuneScape we had. But yes, you can consider me a… founding father of that game.”

“That’s cool!” they exclaim, sounding so genuine it makes your head spin. When did RuneScape become cool again? “My friends and I play old school all the time. It’s the best, for real.”

You shake your head in disbelief as you continue to mop, and a long pause settles between you, with Sol’s interest clearly returning to their phone.

Fuck, you think to yourself, what else do kids even talk about? Marvel movies? It’s like your mind has gone totally blank, unable to conjure up a single topic of conversation, and you practically huff out an audible sigh of relief when their voice breaks the silence again.

“I think my dad has been happier since you started working here.”

The mop nearly slips out of your hands entirely, and you glance up, eyes wide. “I— really?”

Sol nods, playing absentmindedly with the strings of their black hoodie, then bringing the end of one up to their mouth to gently chew on. “It’s a theory I have. A game theory. I plan to ask additional follow-up questions tonight.”

At this, you can’t help but laugh. “Well, I’m sure your investigation will be very thorough.”

There’s a flash of a dimple in Sol’s cheek, like the mirror image of their dad. “I can tell you what he says, if you want.”

You wonder how telling your own smile is. “I mean… I can’t say I’m not curious.” You’re distantly aware of the sound of the office door closing, chased by Joon whistling to himself, and you lower your voice conspiratorially as you drop the mop back into the bucket. “I look forward to hearing what you find out.”

Monday morning, when you wake up to the omnipresent smize of Nick Jonas, you can’t help smiling back.

You made it through your first week of work, and it wasn’t even that torturous. And best of all, Namjoon reminded you the night before that Indigo is closed on Mondays, which gives you an entire day to spend as you please. A real day off, which was truly unheard of at your last job, where you’d spend your non-scheduled days still anticipating an incoming emergency text asking you to cover a shift last-minute. More often than not, you’d end up working after all.

“But not today,” you announce to Nick.

A grand plan has already started to form in your head, one that involves a party size bag of Hot Cheetos and all eight episodes of The Fabulous, and yet. There’s a lingering urge at the back of your brain that you can’t quite ignore. With all the day-off energy you can muster, you drag yourself out of bed and tug on a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt, then shuffle into the bathroom to at least make yourself halfway decent.

You’re just going for a quick walk around the block to get some fresh air, you tell yourself. That’s all. Certainly no other reason.

It’s only a few minutes after you step out your front door that a fluffy white blur nearly collides with your shins, and when you stoop down to lift Moni into your arms, you once again can’t keep the smile off your face. Huh, who could’ve seen this coming?

But when you glance up, there’s no hot buff man jogging up the sidewalk after his dog. In fact, you realize as you look back at the ball of fluff in your arms, he isn’t wearing a leash or harness at all, just another cute sweater.

“Are you even supposed to be out here?” you ask Moni. His only answer is to drag his tongue up the side of your face.

You shift him a little in your arms so you can fumble for the tag attached to his collar, and thankfully, there’s an address listed. It takes you a second to get your bearings in the neighborhood, having not lived here for close to a decade, but it eventually comes back to you where the listed street is, and you start to walk. Moni is already blinking sleepily in your arms, clearly enjoying his preferred mode of transportation.

A laugh bubbles up in your chest as you approach the house in question— even if you hadn’t had Moni’s tag to guide you, finding his home would’ve been easy enough as soon as you passed this street, because you can hear old school hip-hop bumping through a speaker despite still being several houses down the block. You suppose Namjoon can get away with it during the day, when all the neighborhood kids are still in school.

As you make your way up the driveway, you realize the music is actually coming from behind the house, and when you follow the path that leads around back, you spot the culprit: a simple wooden-slat fence surrounds the yard, and the gate has been left wide open.

Before you can even make it over the threshold, a familiar voice reaches your ears, sounding much closer than the music. “Ah, shit.”

Namjoon comes barreling through the open gate so fast he practically runs you over, and Moni yaps, like he’s annoyed at being jostled as you quickly try to stumble out of his owner’s path.

“Oh. Uh, hi.”

You wonder if you’ll ever be able to take in how shock looks on Namjoon’s features without giggling a little. Today is certainly not that day. It’s just so endearing, the way his eyes widen and his mouth pulls into a perfect o-shape.

“Hi,” you breathe out around your laughter, trying to ignore the heat that flushes into your face when his dimples appear in return. “I think I found something that belongs to you.”

With a wave of his hand and several profuse thank yous, you follow Namjoon back through the gate, and wait until he firmly shuts it behind you before letting Moni down to trot off across the yard. It’s only now that you take Namjoon in properly: he’s in a gray hoodie under a pair of denim overalls, both of which are splattered artfully with paint in a variety of colors.

“I was just in my studio,” he explains, tipping his head toward the small shed in the yard, which you quickly realize is also the source of the music that led you here. “Doin’ some art. Do you, uh… wanna see?”

“Yeah, okay,” you answer with a nod.

“Fair warning, I’m really bad at it,” he calls over his shoulder as he leads you in the open studio door, raising his voice to be heard over the music. He reaches for his phone, propped up in the windowsill, to turn the volume down a few notches.

There’s an easel up against the far wall holding what must be his current project, a half-finished scene that you realize upon closer inspection is thousands of tiny dots of color, painstakingly blotted onto the canvas to form a mountain landscape at a distance. A few more pieces that he’s already completed have been leaned up against another wall to dry, one featuring an abstract array of featherlight brushstrokes, and another where the paint’s been globbed on in thick layers.

Namjoon is talking a mile a minute as you inspect the canvases. “I thought maybe I’d do cyanotypes today, but it’s not sunny enough, and I’ve made that mistake before. I’m really into texture right now, so I’m trying out some different techniques with paint. I want to get better at pointillism, but it’s a lot harder than you’d think it would be. ‘Cause it’s just dots, right? But you have to be able to see the forest for the trees, too.”

“These are amazing,” you finally manage to murmur, and to your surprise, the compliment actually renders him silent. When you turn back over your shoulder to look at him, he’s glancing down, almost like he’s embarrassed.

“Thanks. But I just do it for fun. ‘Cause I love art.”

“I can tell,” you say, and when he looks up, you offer him a smile you hope reads as encouraging. “Did you make the art at work, too?”

He nods, still sheepish, and that answer also surprises you. You recall thinking on your first day that the paintings hung on the walls looked handmade, but it never crossed your mind that they might have been made by Namjoon’s hands. Maybe because you’ve grown so accustomed to seeing him drop and break things, you haven’t ever considered him as also capable of… creation.

And yet, here he is. Proving you wrong.

“Sorry,” Namjoon’s voice makes you refocus on him, and your brow furrows in confusion at the unexpected apology. “This is literally your one day away from me and here I am, taking up your time. Thanks again for bringing Moni back.”

“It’s okay.” You shrug. “Don’t have much going on today, honestly. I never really know what to do with myself when I’m not working. Which I’m aware is very sad.”

“Well, uh,” Namjoon starts, and when he takes a single step closer, you swear you feel something flutter in your stomach— or maybe lower. “Sol’s got a half-day today, since it’s the last day before break, so I’m picking them up in a bit. And we were gonna go on a hike, probably take Moni too. You’re welcome to join us, if you’d like?”

Your eyes widen at the invitation. “Oh. That sounds great. I mean, if you’re sure I wouldn’t be intruding?”

He shakes his head, the corner of his mouth pulling up just so. “Nah. I actually think Sol really likes you. At least, they wouldn’t stop asking questions about you at dinner last night.”

“Is that right?” You do your best to keep your expression neutral.

Namjoon drives far enough north that there’s actually snow on the ground when you climb out of his front seat. You shove your hands into the pockets of your jacket as you follow him across the gravel parking lot towards the trailhead, a few paces behind Sol and Moni.

Sol shoots an expression of pure mischief at you over their shoulder, and then immediately starts to sprint up the marked path through the woods, Moni easily keeping up.

“Bye, nerds!” you hear them call before they disappear between the trees.

“Stay on the trail!” Namjoon shouts back, sounding as dad-like as you’ve ever heard him, and you can’t help but laugh. The two of you quicken your steps slightly to not fall too far behind, tracking the set of boot and paw-prints they’ve left to mark their trail.

For a moment, it’s silent between you, save the crunching of snow underfoot. It’s nice, being out in nature like this, time spent with Namjoon where you aren’t suffering through Christmas music and ungrateful customers. Where you can just… breathe. It makes you feel a little less sorry for yourself, a little less fixated on your own miserable life.

You glance over at him as that strange seasonal melancholy starts to settle into your bones again. “Are the holidays… better? With a kid?”

Namjoon makes a face, like he’s surprised by the question. “I mean, they’re definitely different. Then again, it’s been a long time since I did the holidays without a kid— not since I was a kid myself. What do you mean by better?”

Self-consciousness washes over you, your gaze drifting down to the path beneath your feet. “I don’t know, there’s just… I can’t shake this weird feeling now that I’m back home. This time of year used to be so exciting for me when I was Sol’s age. Everything felt special. Magical. But now I’m back here, and nothing’s really changed, except me. But I just keep feeling like the magic is gone. It’s… sad.”

He nods, taking a moment before he responds, and he’s chuckling softly to himself when he finally does. “You know, it’s kinda funny. When Sol was younger I actually felt a lot of stress this time of year. I couldn’t really enjoy it, because I was too busy trying to make sure that they had the best holiday I could possibly give them. That they didn’t feel like they were getting any less, since, you know. Their mom and I aren’t together. It’s funny that you bring up the magic, because I put a lot of pressure on myself to make that magic happen. But now that they’re a little older, I don’t know, it’s different.”

“Different how?” you prompt.

A dimple deepens as he hesitates. “It’s gonna sound corny. But really, I realized that the holidays aren’t about the gifts, or the decorations, or every little thing going perfect. You can make yourself sick over that shit, and I did, but kids don’t really care about it.” He pauses, and for a second you think that might be it, but then he keeps going, eyes fixed on the towering pine trees ahead of you.

“The year I opened Indigo, I had sank so much fucking money into it that I was broke. Broke broke. I couldn’t afford a single gift, a tree, not even a turkey. Sol and I sat on the floor of my shitty apartment and ate Chapagetti and watched Friends. And I felt like the biggest fucking failure imaginable. And then you know what happened?”

“What?”

“Sol turned to me, and they said, ‘This is the best Christmas ever, because we get to hang out, just the two of us.’” He blinks a few times, like he’s trying to ward off tears, and his voice comes back slightly less steady than before. “I still don’t know if they said that because they really meant it, or if they could just tell that I needed to hear it. But either way, I thought to myself: how fucking lucky am I, to have such a great kid? Like what did I ever do to deserve them? I still feel that way.”

Namjoon shrugs, as if to shake off the emotion. “I don’t know. Maybe that’s not helpful to you, but. I just see it differently now. It’s not about the what, or the how. It’s about the who. Spending this time of year with the people you care about, and making sure they know you do. That’s the real magic.”

You realize the trail has carried you up the sloping hillside, and is now flattening out at the edge of a clearing, where you can see Moni chasing Sol through the snow, can hear their high-pitched laughter ringing out in the wide-open air.

When you turn back to Namjoon, he’s already looking at you.

“I’m sorry you don’t feel the magic right now. I didn’t either, for a long time. But it does come back, I believe that. It’ll come back for you, too.”

You blink up at him, overwhelmed by his willingness to be so honest, and by the wisdom of his words. “I— thank you,” you finally manage to say.

Namjoon doesn’t answer, just glances up to where Sol and Moni are still playing, and your gaze follows his out over the snow-covered field. Sol is dusting off a sizable stick, and they call out for Moni to fetch before launching it into a dramatic arc, high up in the air.

Moni watches it go, entirely disinterested, then settles onto his haunches in the snow with a yawn.

“You’re so bad at being a dog!” Sol shouts, and that’s enough to make you and Namjoon both dissolve into laughter. They look up at the sound, hands-on-hips, before yelling again, this time in your direction. “My dad said he has a crush on you!”

Your jaw drops open, and Namjoon’s eyes are wide as you’ve ever seen them when you look up at him.

“Damn, dude, you said you were gonna be chill about it!” he exclaims, and you press a hand to your mouth as a fresh wave of giggles overtakes you. Given how long Namjoon’s legs are, it only takes him a few strides to catch up to Sol. You stay a tentative distance behind him, but still close enough to be able to make out their conversation.

“Uncle Hobi says you need to be bolder with women,” Sol chides, matter-of-fact.

“Uncle Hobi says a lot of shit,” Namjoon mutters under his breath.

“He painted my nails,” Sol raises their voice, clearly talking more to you than to their dad, and holds up a hand for you to see, waggling their fingers proudly.

“They look great,” you call out in response.

Namjoon turns back to you as you step in closer, then juts his chin to a bench at the other side of the clearing. “Sit with me for a sec?”

With a nod, you follow him over, and he wipes the metal surface free of snow with his sleeve before gesturing for you to have a seat. For a moment, the two of you sit silently and watch Sol, who is already busying themself with building a snowperson while Moni slow-blinks encouragingly from a distance.

Namjoon’s words chase a heavy sigh. “I’m gonna be real with you, despite the fact that my child just stole my thunder. I like you a lot.”

Your heart swells in your chest, threatening to burst. “I-I like you too,” you stammer back immediately. “Have definitely been harboring my own crush… basically since I started working at Indigo.”

When you turn to look at him, it surprises you a little that he isn’t smiling. You can see a muscle working in his jaw, like he’s nervous.

“That’s the thing,” he finally relents. “Work. I don’t— I hadn’t really planned to tell you how I was feeling, or act on it. Because I’m your boss, and that means, you know. There’s a power dynamic there. And it would be… unethical of me to blur the lines like that, by getting involved with my employee. I wanted you to come out with us today because it was a chance for you and I to be equals, outside of work, but it’s not like that dynamic just goes away, you know? And I feel a little guilty about it now. Because I really like being around you so much, but I just. We can’t. It wouldn’t be right. Not while you’re working for me.”

You stare down at the snow under your boots as you take in his words, and you can’t help it. Try as you might to sit there and take his worries seriously, laughter flutters out of you before you can hold it in.

“What?” Namjoon asks, and you shake your head, trying to compose yourself.

“I really, really appreciate that you gave it so much thought,” you say, willing your voice to stay even. “I mean it.”

“It’s weighed really heavy on me, if I’m honest,” he says solemnly, and you glance over to see him staring into the middle distance, like he’s deep in contemplation.

Before you can stop yourself, you’re reaching out to where his hand rests on the bench between you and covering it with your own.

“Namjoon?” you ask softly, and it seems to snap him out of his trance enough to look back at you.

“Please don’t take this the wrong way,” you preface. “But if I have to choose between you and my stupid seasonal coffee shop job?” The smile starts to flicker over your face again. “Then I quit. I quit right now.”

“Oh thank god,” Namjoon breathes, and you can only make a soft noise of surprise when all at once, he takes your face in his hands and kisses you. You need a split second for the shock to wear off, and then you’re moving your mouth against his, one hand fisting tight in the fabric of his jacket. His lips are full and warm, and it feels like far too soon that he’s pulling back again, his cheeks flushed with color.

“Will you, uh—” he pauses, like he’s remembering how to form a sentence. “Will you still work tomorrow though? Jimin’s back after Christmas, but I really don’t think I can survive a shift on my own.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, still a little breathless from his kiss. “Yeah, I think you’d burn the place down.”

Unable to deny the claim, he laughs brightly as you untangle from each other, then gets to his feet before offering a hand to help you up. “We should head out, it’s gonna get dark soon.”

It’s true: across the wide clearing you can already see the sun threatening to sink back down between the trees, casting a golden-pink light that gleams off the snow and paints the world in warmth.

Sol leads the way back through the woods to the car, tugging Moni along by their leash, while you and Namjoon bring up the rear. You glance over at him a few times to catch him staring, and you scrape your teeth across your bottom lip, unable to keep the smile off your face, unable to stop yourself from mentally replaying the moment when he kissed you, over and over.

Just as you step under the shadow of a large tree, snow-covered branches stretching up toward the clear sky above you, Namjoon stops in the path. It’s so abrupt that you continue a few more paces before you even realize, and then you stop, too, glancing back towards him.

“Hey Sol,” Namjoon calls. “Think you and Moni can make it all the way back to the car in ten seconds?”

“I know what you’re doing,” comes Sol’s cheeky reply, but when Namjoon starts counting backwards from ten, you can hear the crunch of their boots taking off down the path.

“Eight, seven, six…” You watch as Namjoon cranes his neck until he deems Sol far enough out of sight, taking a step toward you as his counting trails off, and you find yourself pulled into him like a magnet. “Come here,” he murmurs, and then his hands are slipping up your waist and guiding you backwards until your back hits the trunk of the tree.

In true Namjoon fashion, he uses way more strength than is necessary for the task, and though your winter jacket cushions you from the impact, you’re smacked against the bark so hard that it knocks a dusting of snow off the branches above you, covering you both in flakes that stick to your hair and eyelashes. The sudden rush of cold makes you gasp into Namjoon’s mouth, but then he’s rolling his tongue over yours and you can’t think about anything else. A heavy pulse has started to thud between your legs at the heat of his breath in your mouth, the way his hips have you pinned to the tree, his body big enough to cover yours entirely.

“Joon,” you find the air to breathe as his lips trail hungrily down the slope of your neck. You rake a hand through his hair, white-blonde strands studded with snow, to try and pull his attention back, despite very much not wanting him to stop. “Joon, we should go. Before someone steals your kid.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs against your skin, and then his mouth is on yours again for one more kiss, like he can’t get enough. “Okay,” he finally grunts as he pulls away, sounding as begrudgingly responsible as you feel. Your head is still spinning; you want nothing more than to stay here and let him kiss you dizzy.

“Let’s go.”

He takes a step back so you can right yourself, reaching out to dust some snow off your jacket, and then the two of you resume walking up the path, sharing a breathless laugh like confidantes. You assume it’s just his standard clumsiness when Namjoon’s hand knocks into yours, but then his fingers are twining through yours purposefully, until you’re pressed palm to palm.

The rush of heat that blooms in your chest at his touch keeps you warm the rest of the way to the car.

Your last shift at Indigo somehow manages to feel exactly like every shift that’s come before it and completely new at the same time.

The work is the same, the steady stream of customers unchanged, the Christmas music still an aggravating soundtrack. But you no longer feel like you have to ignore the butterflies that flutter in your stomach when Namjoon asks you a question, or meets your gaze across the shop.

The only urges you have to suppress are indecent ones, made worse by Namjoon seemingly taking advantage of every opportunity to touch you: hip-checking you when you’re both standing at the front counter, pressing a hand to the small of your back whenever he has to squeeze behind you, leaning in a little closer than necessary to be heard over the noise of the milk steamer. It’s enough to make your breath hitch each time, and you can’t help but wonder if he feels the same relief at not having to hold back anymore.

Towards the end of the night, it surprises you when the typically consistent flow of customers starts to slow down, until it seems to have ceased entirely. You still have two hours to go, but you find yourself staring at the walls, every table empty, having done all the side work you can think of to distract yourself from boredom.

The sound of the front door’s lock clicking shut makes you glance up, only to see Namjoon flipping the open sign over.

“What are you doing?” you ask, blinking dumbfounded, and he looks over his shoulder at you with a shrug.

“It’s Christmas Eve Eve, and I’m the owner, so. We’re closing early. Effective immediately.” The decree makes you laugh a little, and his dimples wink back. “Let’s finish cleaning, I wanna show you something.”

In record time, you find yourself standing outside the front door of Indigo as Namjoon locks up, only tonight your hands are kept warm by the hot chocolates he’d made for the two of you as you closed. He takes his cup back once his hands are free, and you try a tentative sip from yours, now cool enough to drink without burning your mouth. Given what you witnessed of his barista abilities on your first day, you brace yourself for the worst, but your eyes widen in pleasant surprise when the liquid hits your tongue.

“Being a dad means getting really good at a few specific things,” he says by way of explanation as he unlocks his car doors, and you smile as you slip into the passenger seat.

It occurs to you as Namjoon starts to drive that you don’t actually know where he’s taking you, but when you open your mouth to ask at the next red light, he leans over you to fumble open the glovebox and you lose your train of thought. He fishes inside for a few seconds before retrieving a CD case, then makes quick work of prying it open and sliding the disc into the slot on the dash. You attempt to hide your giggle behind the rim of your cup.

“No wonder you like ‘90s music so much. You’re still living there,” you say, nodding to his antiquated stereo, and he smirks as he turns up the volume.

“This is A Tribe Called Quest,” he remarks, quirking an eyebrow when he looks back at you. “You better show some respect.”

“Yes, sir,” you tease in response, and you don’t miss the color that flushes his cheeks.

The light turns green and he accelerates through the intersection, one hand on the steering wheel, the other reaching across the center console to grip playfully at your leg, a few inches above your knee. You can see his tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek, like he’s considering saying something, but when he finally opens his mouth, it’s just to rap along to the music.

It’s only a few songs later that he’s turning off the main road and following a barely-lit gravel path up to a large grassy parking lot, where he pulls into a space and kills the engine. You squint through the windshield, tucking your now-empty drink into the cupholder, but you can’t make out much except dusk and some vague lights over a hill in the distance.

“Was this crush thing just a ploy to murder me?” you quip, and Namjoon looks a little nervous when you glance over, like he took the question to heart. “I’m kidding,” you clarify quickly.

His voice comes out surprisingly soft. “This is one of my favorite things to do during the holidays. Thought it might help with, you know. The magic.”

Something cracks open inside you as you look back at him. “That’s… really sweet.”

“Ah,” he says, as if to dismiss the compliment. “You haven’t seen it yet. Maybe you’ll hate it. Come on.”

The two of you climb out of his car to start your trek to whatever he has in store, heading in the direction of the lights, and Namjoon’s hand slips into yours, like it’s already second nature. Easy and sweet. You grip tight to him, the night air colder now than it was when you left work, but then you finally crest over the hill, and the temperature is suddenly the furthest thing from your mind.

It takes you a moment to even understand what you’re looking at. The place is clearly some kind of arboretum, as the path ahead of you snakes through a perfectly manicured garden of various plants, but the only thing you can focus on are the lights. Every tree, bush, shrub, and other kind of greenery that lines the walkway has been intricately strung up with lights, each one boasting a different hue. The end result is nothing short of dazzling— a veritable rainbow of light and life and color, glittering diamond-bright against the deep-set night around you.

“Namjoon,” you breathe. “This is beautiful.”

There’s a dimple flickering at the corner of his mouth when you look up at him. “Thought you might like it.”

“I can’t believe I never knew this was here,” you remark, your eyes wide and blinking as you try to take it all in.

“Hey,” he answers with a shrug. “Maybe your hometown still has a few good surprises left in it.” You exhale a laugh as you lean into his side and he squeezes your joined hands; you can’t help feeling like you’ve already found the greatest surprise of them all.

After an hour spent wandering through the displays, each one more breathtaking than the last, Namjoon diverts you toward a small food stand. He comes away from the counter with a paper carton filled to the brim with long ropes of twisted, fried dough, warm enough to release steam into the air when you tear one apart to share, and dusted with cinnamon sugar that sticks to your fingertips.

The two of you take a few steps back down the path until you’re under an archway of glowing golden lights, then eventually come to a standstill, too hungry to do anything except devour your food.

Namjoon speaks first, mid-chew. “Can I ask you a question?”

“What’s up?” you answer as you reach for another piece.

He swallows, swiping the back of his hand over his mouth before he continues. “At your interview, you said your life fell apart. What happened?”

“Oh.” You smirk as you rip the braided dough in two, then in two again, before popping it into your mouth. “It seems a little silly now, but. I got fired from that last job, like I told you. And the same day, my roommate pretty much kicked me out of the apartment, because he wanted his boyfriend to move in. He was also my best friend, so. It stung a little. A lot. Moving back in with your parents at this age is humbling, to say the least. Feels a lot like starting over.”

Namjoon hums, like he understands. “I’m sorry about your friend.”

“Eh,” you respond noncommittally. “I should probably be happy for him. The timing just… wasn’t amazing.”

“You know,” he murmurs, thoughtful. “I thought my life was over when my ex and I got pregnant. Not even eighteen and about to be a dad. I really felt like… I don’t know, like that was it for me.” You nod slowly, unable to even fathom what that must’ve been like.

“But, here I am. Still alive.” Namjoon flashes you a grin, and you find yourself smiling back. “Still figuring it out. I actually feel like I’ve learned a lot from watching Sol grow up. They’re like—” He shakes his head, as if at a momentary loss for words. “They’re like a different person every month, I swear. What they’re into, how they dress. Who they wanna be. It makes me feel, I don’t know. Like it’s okay. Like I can change too.” He shrugs. “That’s the thing about life. It’s long. And even when you feel like it’s ended… it keeps going anyway.”

His words wash over you, and you’re so in awe that you can’t help but laugh.

“Ah, sorry.” He grimaces, suddenly self-conscious. “I know that was corny.”

“No, no,” you interject, trying to keep your composure. “I just think you are like, literally the wisest person I’ve ever met.”

The lights glimmering overhead aren’t enough to hide the way Namjoon blushes at the compliment, and then he pauses, as if recalling something. “Didn’t I nearly run the blender with the lid off on your first day?”

You double-over at the memory, and he’s laughing now, too. “Okay, okay. Fair point.”

The thought keeps circling around in your brain as you dust cinnamon sugar from each other’s jackets and continue your way around the rest of the gardens, occasionally pausing to trade sticky-sweet kisses in the twinkling glow: you don’t want the night to end. You keep glancing over at Namjoon, wondering if he’s feeling the same way as he drives you back into town, the heat in his car on full blast, the CD player still underscoring your conversation.

“So, what do your Christmas plans look like?” he asks, eyes flitting briefly from the road to meet your gaze.

You fiddle with a button on your coat, wishing you had a less depressing answer. “I was just gonna spend it by myself. My parents already had a vacation in Hawaii planned, so I’m gonna do what I always do: hole up with booze and snacks and wait for it all to be over.”

He chuckles, tapping his fingertips absentmindedly against the steering wheel. “Well, I have about a hundred presents to wrap tomorrow night while Sol’s at their mom’s. Why don’t you come over and help? I can even provide the booze.” There’s a pause, and his voice comes back softer before you can respond. “You shouldn’t be alone.”

The corner of your mouth tugs up at his sincerity, the way he gently cares for you, has since day one. “Yeah, okay. I mean, you had me at free alcohol.”

Just like that, Namjoon is already turning back into the Indigo parking lot, where your car sits waiting for you. The two of you shrug off your seatbelts once he’s pulled into a space and parked, and he reaches to turn down the music before shifting in his seat to get a better look at you.

“So,” he starts, clearing his throat a little. “You are officially no longer my employee.”

“And you are no longer my boss,” you answer back, and a thrill buzzes in your chest at the statement.

“Which means,” he continues, doing his best to lean over the center console, “I can do this.” He barely finishes getting the words out before his mouth is on yours, your eyes fluttering closed, his kisses far less chaste than the ones you shared earlier. They’re open-mouthed and urgent this time, with Namjoon slipping his tongue into the heat of your mouth like he’s been waiting all night for it.

“Uh-huh,” you murmur between kisses, and then he dips his head lower, until his lips find the join of your neck and shoulder.

“And this,” he purrs before kissing you just as hungrily there, tongue-first. You can’t hold back the soft noise his mouth pulls out of you.

“Fuck,” you breathe as he sucks gently over the same spot, with just enough pressure to make you writhe in your seat. A shiver rolls up your spine when he hums against your skin, clearly pleased at your reaction.

“And, uh…” You slowly blink your eyes open when you feel the warmth of his breath dissipate, and he’s looking at you with his brow furrowed, as if attempting some difficult mental math. “Actually—” He reaches down for the lever to adjust his seat, and it drops all the way back with a graceless thud that makes a laugh flutter out of you. “Maybe you could take your jacket off and come over here?”

You don’t need him to ask you twice, and you’re moving quickly as you peel out of the thick material and scramble across the console to straddle him. You both groan a little when you duck down to press your mouth to his again, all of this suddenly feeling much more real now that you’re basically horizontal. His hands alight on your hips, tentative, like he isn’t quite sure what to do with them, and you smile against his lips.

“Touch me, Joon,” you instruct, and he does as he’s told.

His hands are warm as he slips them beneath the hem of your shirt, trailing over your skin until he reaches the band of your bra. When you hum encouragingly into his mouth, he keeps going, pushing the fabric up your chest so your tits spill free from their confinement. He cups one in each hand, and though you might’ve expected him to be clumsy or rough, given everything you’ve seen of him thus far, you’re surprised to instead find that he’s gentle, thumbs circling your nipples with just the right amount of pressure to tighten them into stiff peaks.

Unable to bite back your whimper at the heat that blossoms through you at his touch, at how much more of him you need, you pull away just enough to break your kiss, glancing up through the back window of his car to confirm the parking lot is still empty.

Namjoon groans low in his throat when you reach down to tug up the hem of your shirt, shifting a little on top of him to give him better access. He doesn’t hesitate, thumb still working at one nipple while he takes the other into his mouth, and your sigh of relief comes edged with a soft moan when he swirls his tongue over the bud of your breast.

“Shit,” you gasp. “Feels so fucking good.”

He pulls off with a wet pop to switch sides, and the slick heat of his mouth sends bolt after bolt of arousal through you until there’s a dull ache of need thudding between your legs. As you roll your hips in desperate search of friction, you can feel him beneath you, straining hard against the fabric of his jeans.

Namjoon pulls his mouth off your breast, letting out a hoarse laugh when you shift to drop your forehead against his collarbone with a groan, horny enough to practically be delirious. “I hate that I’m even saying this,” he rasps, “but I really can’t have sex in a car. I’m too—”

“Big?” you offer, and there’s a smile on his lips as he presses a kiss to your temple.

“I was going to say old.”

You can’t help giggling as you lean up to find his mouth with yours again. Namjoon kisses you a little while longer, lazily, his hands still kneading gently at your tits, until he finally tips his head back, heaving a sigh up to the roof of his car. “Okay, okay. You should go.” His tone is reluctant, like it’s the last thing he wants. “It’s late. And my jeans fucking hurt.”

There’s a self-satisfied smirk toying at your mouth as you sit up, tugging your bra and shirt back into place and not missing the bulge in Namjoon’s pants where your hips meet his. “I will take the blame for that one.”

He folds his hands behind his head, biceps and dimples on full display. “Damn straight.”

You lean down for one more kiss, letting it linger before you make your way back over the center console to retrieve your jacket. “Have a good night, Joon,” you murmur as you reach for the door handle, and when you glance back, his eyes are fixed on you, still heavy-lidded with lust.

“Get home safe. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I have booze, as promised.” Namjoon’s voice echoes in from the kitchen as you kick off your boots and hang your coat up at his front door come Christmas Eve. The aroma hits your nose as your socked feet pad down the hall to follow him: the spice of cinnamon and clove, paired with a hint of citrus. It smells like the holidays, like home.

“Mulled wine?” you wager a guess, and he nods, turning away from the stove to retrieve two mugs from a cabinet.

“I halved the recipe, since it’s just us,” he explains, mouth pulling down at the corners as he starts to ladle out servings from the pot full of deep red liquid. “Still made a lot, though.”

Your eyes drift across the kitchen until they land on the two empty bottles of red sitting next to the sink, and that makes you pause for a moment to consider. “So the original recipe called for four bottles?”

Namjoon’s brow is furrowed when he glances up, and then he follows your gaze, and a look of delayed understanding washes over him. “Oh, fuck.”

Your elbows dig into the kitchen island as you press your hands to your mouth, as if to physically hold in your laughter. “Did you… halve everything in the recipe except the wine?”

His eyes drop closed as he nods, his answer a resigned sigh. “Yeah. Yes, I did.”

You can’t help yourself: all at once, you’re circling around to join Namjoon behind the stove, so you can take his face in your hands and pull his mouth down to yours. He makes a soft noise of surprise, but then his lips fall into rhythm, kissing you hard enough to knock the air out of your lungs. Even through the fabric of your shirt, his large hands are warm when they slide over the small of your back, and then they keep going, until you finally break the kiss with another laugh when he reaches his final target and outright grabs your ass.

“Not the reaction I anticipated,” Namjoon admits, paired with a teasing squeeze. “But I’ll take it.”

You look up at him through your lashes, pressing your palms flat to the firm plane of his chest. “A very wise friend of mine once told me that the holidays aren’t about every little thing going perfect. I thought maybe you needed a reminder.”

His dimples deepen as his eyes search yours, and his voice is lower in his throat when he responds. “I think that fool was just sayin’ words because a pretty girl asked him a question.”

Heat flushes your face as you smile back. “Well, they were very good words.” You drop your gaze to the pot on the stove. “Come on, I bet we can salvage this.”

Determined to save Christmas, you throw in another handful of spices, chased with a few glugs from a bottle of orange juice Namjoon heroically digs out of the back of the fridge. After a few more minutes of simmering, you take a tentative sip of the mixture to find it perfectly adequate.

“I guess we just have to drink twice as much now,” Namjoon quips, filling up two fresh mugs with the remedied wine. You raise an eyebrow back at him, as if to accept the challenge, while you tap your drinks together in a cheers.

By the time you realize that a double-batch of mulled wine and gift-wrapping don’t exactly go together, it’s already too late. The booze makes Namjoon’s big hands go even clumsier, the few presents he attempts an absolute disaster, and you can’t stop laughing long enough to be of any help. At one point he reaches up to cup your jaw for a kiss, but completely misjudges the distance, deftly knocking into his half-drunk mug and spilling the contents all over a tube of wrapping paper and the crotch of your jeans.

You dissolve into giggles until you can scarcely breathe, scooting your chair a few inches back from the table as he jumps up to grab something to soak up the mess. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” you manage to gasp when he returns, immediately focused on cleaning you up first. You wave him away as you get to your feet. “Seriously, it’s not that bad, it’s mostly the table.”

“Jesus,” Namjoon groans as he drops the kitchen towels in his hands onto the wooden surface, doing his best to soak up the puddle, though there’s no saving the ruined gift-wrap.

“It’s not a big deal,” you murmur as he turns back, once again examining the extent of the damage done to your clothes. A shiver rolls through you as his thumb brushes over the waistband of your jeans, and he grimaces a little.

“This is probably gonna stain.”

“I mean…” Your pulse starts to quicken as his fingertips linger where they are, and Namjoon’s gaze flits up to meet yours when you speak, clearly hearing a shift in your tone of voice. “I could just… take them off.”

A smile teases at the corner of your mouth when his eyes widen. “Yeah,” he breathes, then seems to self-correct. “I mean, uh. If-if that’s something you would feel comfortable doing.”

You’re already reaching to undo the button, and then Namjoon takes over to tug open the zipper and push the fabric down your legs, and your nipples tighten beneath your bra at the reminder of how gentle his large hands can be. His lips find yours again and you don’t hesitate to lick into his mouth, jostling slightly as you try to make out with him and kick your pants the rest of the way off at the same time. It’s graceless, but you manage to make it work, and then he pulls away from you to glance back down.

“It looks like a little got on your shirt, too.”

He’s right, you realize: there are faint purple marks splattered just above the hem of your long-sleeve, and you smirk as you look up at him.

“If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you did this on purpose,” you tease, and then in one swift move you pull your shirt over your head, letting it drop to the kitchen floor next to your discarded jeans.

Namjoon’s hands are instantly on your bare skin, trailing heat as they trace the curve from your hip to your waist, and your breath hitches as he ducks down to brush his lips over your collarbone. The low tone of his voice reverberates through you when he speaks against your skin. “I like to think I could’ve gotten you naked tonight even without being an accident-prone idiot.”

You run a hand along the line of his jaw, tipping his head up to seek a kiss, before leaning back to murmur, “I guess we’ll never know.”

He kisses you again, and the two of you stumble across the threshold into the living room, pausing along the way to peel off his sweater and then his jeans, laughing into each other’s mouths, just drunk enough to lack any semblance of coordination you might have otherwise had.

When you drop down to lay back on his sofa, you’re both stripped to your underwear, and you can feel the thick bulge of him, pressing firm-heavy heat into your thigh as he settles his hips between your spread legs.

Namjoon’s eyes roam over your body beneath him, and then he’s tugging the lace of your panties to the side to slip a finger into your drenched center, beckoning it up to rub you just right. Your mouth drops open as he traces slow circles against your front wall, and when he adds a second digit, you can’t help but whimper softly at the stretch. It thrums through you like your lingering red wine buzz, hot and thick and good enough to get lost in, your head dropping back on the couch cushions as your hips rock up into his touch.

“Goddamn,” Namjoon groans, and your eyes flutter open again to take him in, his gaze heavy-lidded as he watches his fingers disappear up into you, coaxing slick sounds out with each pump of his hand. “I had a whole plan,” he rasps. “To take my time. But, fuck, I really want to fuck you.”

“It’s okay, Joon,” you breathe, not sure how much longer you could stand the torturous feeling of his clothed cock grinding into your thigh, so close to where you want him. An ache throbs in your cunt, needy, plugged up with two fingers but still begging for more. “Just fuck me.”

Realization flashes over his face, and then he suddenly heaves a sigh, looking defeated. You have to bite back a noise at the loss as he withdraws his fingers. “I— there’s an obvious joke here, but. I don’t have any condoms. Or if I do, they’re definitely expired.”

It takes you a second to process the revelation, and then you reach up to pull him down to you, smiling when he hums surprise into your mouth at the unexpected response. Your lips linger on his, and then you tip your head to press a kiss to the slope of his neck, not quite able to maintain eye contact as you murmur, “I mean. I’m on the pill, and I’m clean. So.”

“Yeah?” he replies, and your nose bumps against his shoulder as you nod. “Me too. Well, I-I’m clean, I mean. I’m not on the pill.”

You can’t help the giggle that slips out as you look up at him. “Right, no, I get it.”

“Sorry,” Namjoon huffs a laugh in return, his face flushing a little. “I talk a lot, when I’m nervous.”

“I just thought it was an all-the-time thing,” you admit, and the color in his cheeks deepens.

“I’m just always nervous around you.”

Your mouth seeks his out for a kiss sweeter than the last, slower for his shy honesty and the hummingbird thrum of your heartbeat behind your ribs. The heat of his breath ghosts over your lips when you tip back to answer, “You don’t have to be.”

“So, you’re okay?” he asks, almost reverent with his question. “If we—if I don’t—”

“Please,” you insist, and it’s all the encouragement he needs.

With remarkably little fumbling, he drags the lace of your panties down your legs, letting you kick them the rest of the way off while he moves up to unclasp your bra. You slip the straps off your shoulders and drop it over the edge of the couch, then watch as he shifts to strip out of his boxers, freeing his cock with enough force that it smacks against his abdomen with a hefty thud.

You swallow hard as you take him in: long and thick, flushed dark. Big, and fuck, you want all of him; you can feel how drenched you already are between your legs at the thought of all that cock filling you up.

When you tear your gaze away to meet his, Namjoon is staring at you just as hungrily, and he brings a hand to pump himself a few times, to coat his shaft in the wetness that’s started to drool from the head of his dick.

“Come here,” he grunts, his voice rough-edged, and you waste no time straddling yourself over his hips.

Given his considerable size, you figured it might take you a second to adjust, but you want him so bad, the feeling of his cock stretching you open is all white-hot pleasure. Your fingertips dig into his shoulders as you slowly lower yourself down on him, inch by overwhelming inch, until your ass is flush with thighs.

Namjoon’s head drops back against the couch as you slowly grind your hips into him, his hands gripping at your waist to guide the movement. You can’t help the soft sound that flutters out of you: he just looks so good like this, white-blonde hair swept off his forehead, beads of sweat trailing down his temples and glistening at his collarbones, his parted lips full and kiss-bitten.

“Baby,” he groans as you start to move a little more intentionally. “Fuck, I’m not gonna last long. Tell me what to do.”

“Touch me,” you breathe, and you close a hand over one of his, guiding him down to your clit.

Just like the night before in his car, his touch is so gentle when he begins to trace circles into the sensitive nub with his thumb. You can feel the slow-hum build of an orgasm in your core, drawn up by the steady rub of his hand, and you lean back to allow him better access, bracing yourself on his thighs as you rock along his length.

A moan rips through you as the new angle drags the head of his dick just right against your front wall, and it’s good enough to make your eyes roll back. Chasing the feeling, you shove your hips down harder, driving his cock into that spot over and over until your thighs have started to tremble.

“That’s it,” Namjoon grunts encouragingly, his voice husky. “Use me, baby. Look so good when you bounce on my cock like that.”

The words set every last one of your nerve endings alight, and you dig your nails into his skin as your spine arches from the pleasure. His thumb is still working steadily at your clit, and the heavy stretch of his cock has you so wet, you can feel arousal starting to leak down your thighs. Your pussy clings to him like a vice, a throbbing-tight heat, taking him to the hilt every time.

“Oh my god, Joon,” you groan, “I’m gonna come.”

His touch doesn’t let up, and you can feel yourself teetering right on the precipice of it, only able to manage little gasps as you drop yourself down onto his cock again and again and again, with enough force that there’s an audible sound of your skin slapping against his.

Your legs are outright shaking from the effort now, from how close you are, and then Namjoon ducks his head, using his free hand to guide your tit into his mouth. The swirl of his tongue laved across the tight bud of your nipple is just what you need to push you over the edge.

With a moan that’s more like a sob, you drop forward against Namjoon’s chest, sinking all the way down to bury him in your pulsing cunt as you come. He continues to rub you through the waves of your orgasm, breathing ragged in your ear while your pussy gushes around him, until you grab his wrist with a soft whimper of overstimulation, and he relents.

Too gone to get any words out, all you can do is take his face in your hands and kiss him. He rolls his tongue over yours, decadent, as his palms slip down to cup your ass. You groan a little into his mouth when he begins to shift you, your cunt still fluttering-sensitive at every little motion, but he manages to maneuver you onto your back while still keeping himself sheathed in you.

His hands move to your thighs, encouraging your legs to hook over his hips, and his mouth trails kisses down the valley between your breasts before he breathes against your skin, “Can I keep going?”

“Please,” you murmur, and it’s chased with a moan when he starts to rock his hips into you. You feel so full, so swollen from your climax that it’s like your walls were molded to take him, the crown of his cock stroking deep-deep over the place that lights you up inside, shooting sparks of pleasure all the way down to your toes.

Namjoon’s breath stutters on a laugh. “Shit, I’m already close.”

You tilt up to brush your lips against his, humming encouragingly into his mouth, and then he pulls back again, one dimple teasing at the corner of his smile. “God, I— wanna hear you say it.”

Somehow, you know exactly what he means. “Come in me, Joon,” you beg, fucked so good that you’re shameless for it, and you gasp when he bottoms out in you with his next thrust. “Fill me up. Fuck me full of your cum, baby, please.”

It’s like the words send him into overdrive, and he practically growls as he starts to fuck his cock into you forcefully, hard enough to make your tits bounce. Each snap of his hips punches a heady groan from your lungs, and you reach up to drag your nails across the skin of his back as he chases his own end.

“Gonna fucking— give it to you,” he hisses, rolling his hips one, two, three more times, and then you feel his cock twitching, shoved in as deep as you can take him. He heaves a final strangled groan as he comes, rope after rope of his release pumping into you to paint your walls, until you can feel it beginning to spill back down your thighs.

You kiss through the comedown, inhaling shaky breaths into each other’s mouths, your bodies still fitted together like puzzle pieces, sweat starting to cool in the places where skin is pressed to skin. Namjoon finally moves first, giving a grunt of effort as he rolls off the couch, and you throw an arm over your face while the world slowly settles into focus around you.

When he returns, it’s with a towel in hand, and you can’t help smiling as he cleans you up, trailing soft kisses along your collarbone in tandem.

His voice is soft, too, when he finally speaks. “Will you stay here tonight?”

You prop yourself up on your forearms to look at him, and a little glimmer of something lights up in your chest that you can’t ignore. The first spark of an ember, just enough to reignite a flame you’d long since believed to be entirely extinguished. But now he’s shown you: it doesn’t have to be. You don’t have to be alone.

“Of course. We still have presents to wrap,” you say simply, and he huffs a laugh as he leans in to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Joon?” you murmur into the crook of his neck, unable to keep your voice entirely steady.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” you breathe. “For the magic.”

#namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon x y/n #bts smut #bts x reader #a hyung holiday

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hearts4golbach · 3 months

Text

The Night Shift.

chapter 3.

Johnnie Guilbert x Fem!Reader.

The party was at 5, so I made sure to wake up at 3 to get ready. I dug through my closet, romaging around the very bottom drawer where I put the shit I don't wear anymore. I eventually found the dress I wore to homecoming my senior year. To say it was slutty would be an understatement. I was against wearing it at first, but why not go into the new year with a bang. Ew, I hate that. 'with a bang.' whatever. I slipped on the dress and it fit better than it used to.

I did my usual makeup, just adding eyeliner and darker lipstick to match the dress. I pulled out my phone and texted johnnie.

y/n: ready when you are

johnnie: alr, me and Jake should be on our way soon I think, idk

y/n: lol ok just lmk when you're here

johnnie: ofc :))

I slipped on the beat up converse I've been wearing since middle school and waited in the living room for them to get here. I was a little nervous for the party.

my phone dinged.

johnnie: herrrreeeeee

I read his message and ran out the front door.

Who I assumed was Jake sat in the front seat, while Johnnie leaned against the car facing me. "hey." I smiled.

his eyes grazed over my whole body. "you look really good."

"thank you." I smiled, tilting my head down towards him. he was wearing a pair of ripped, black skinny jeans with a white button up that he didn't tuck in. Something clicked in me, maybe because he was wearing something other than pajama pants, but I shoved that feeling down.

he smiled sweetly and opened the backdoor for me. I hopped in and was quickly followed by johnnie. "Damn, Johnnie, leaving me to sit in the back of my car with a pretty girl."

"shut the fuck up, fuck face." he rolled his eyes.

"sorry, we've never really met. I'm jake." He reached over the seat and stuck out his hand.

I shook it. "I'm y/n. it's really great to meet you. Johnnie has talked about you."

"yeah, talked shit." Johnnie joked.

"Johnnie has talked about you too." Jake replied nonchalantly. Johnnie's gaze quickly met Jake's. He gave him the death stare before returning to his phone.

"you've never been to a party?" Jake asked me, beginning to drive off of my street.

"yeah, my parents kind of kept me locked in a cage my whole life." I looked out the window, watching as snow began to fall to the ground. The bright white snow contrasted against the dark sky, making it extremely visible.

"you're going to have the night of your life." Jake said with a southern accent.

I turned to look at johnnie, who was still on his phone. I admired the way his dark makeup contrasted against his pale skin. ill admit, he was just as gorgeous as the snow. I smiled slightly to myself before responding to Jake, mimicking his accent. "Let's hope so, little missy."

johnnie looked up at me with a goofy smile on his face. he had a certain look in his eye that I couldn't quite read. my stomach errupted with butterflies. I was usually able to read anyone, it didn't matter if I knew them or not. Johnnie was different, and it was confusing.

Jake had turned up the radio and I looked back out the window, racking my brain for what that look was for. was it because I was being funny? was I getting along with Jake more than he liked? was he happy I was getting along with jake? I came up with every possible answer, but none made sense. whether positive or negative, why would he look at me like that?

we eventually arrived at the party, parking down the street from the house. "I'm going straight for the drinks." I commented. "I will never be the one to turn down free alcohol."

"I second that." Jake said, sticking up his pointer finger and pursing his lips.

loud music radiated from the house. it was still decorated for Christmas. lights were strung all over the house while the roof held a porcelain Santa and reindeer.

I grabbed Johnnie's arm. "Look! no one told me Santa was still in town!" I made a shocked face.

he began to jump up and down. "oh my god, Santa! Jake, it's my dad!" he said in a childlike voice.

"you're finally reunited!" Jake patted his back, making two rough slapping sounds.

we waited on the doorstep while Jake was talking to someone out on the yard. "it's nice seeing you not so stressed because of your job."

"I guess I do seem pretty stressed." I admitted. "but I do love my job."

"still, I've never seen you in something other than jeans and a t-shirt with an apron." he smiled.

"well, I've never seen you in anything other than pajama pants. you look very-" I paused, thinking of a not so obvious word to describe him. "good. sorry, I'm not the best with compliments."

"it's the thought that counts." he playfully nudged me.

"A for effort, I guess." I rolled my eyes at him.

"those shoes look like they've been through hell and back." he looked down before making eye contact with me again.

"I mean, technically they were. I wore them in middle school." I kicked a rock out from under my foot.

"I dropped out in middle school." he snickered as Jake walked up to us.

"Sorry, guys. the ladies love me."

"I'm sure they do, jake." I replied sarcastically.

#fanfiction #fanfic #johnnie guilbert x you #johnnie guilbert x reader #jake and johnnie #johnnie guilbert #the night shift #cafe aesthetic #cafe

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imnameimswrld · 3 months

Text

Older

lee soohyuk x model!reader

━━ ❪ description: yn gets over a breakup and ends up meeting someone older, who knows exactly how to treat her right // smau, age gap. ❫

━━ ❪ warnings: language ❫

━━ ❪ fc: jennie kim ❫

ynusername

liked by gigihadid, nicolaannepeltzbeckham, and 8 345 898 others

ynusername life lately : /

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user hol' on...WHAT

user did her and tae break up or ???

user wait a damn minute...someone...older ?

user okay but hear me out... is it just me who feels like yn wanted be public about her relationship, and since tae is a super private person, he didn't ?

⤿ user I bet it must've been hard for yn, because we all know how much of a physically affectionate person she is, and all the times they were pictured together, she always had her hands behind her back with a sad look on her face

⤿ user FINALLY ya'll are seeing how so not right they were for each other, jeez – they clearly wanted different things for their relationship.

⤿ user just proves that, just because you're in the same industry, doesn't mean you'll get along.

user soo...older men, huh ? why do I feel she about to do something wild...

koreadispatch

liked by user, user, and 678 335 others

koreadispatch SPOTTED: this past weekend following up towards Y/N L/N's launch party with her collaboration with Calvin Klein, the top model has been spotted out more than once with a new man on her arm. At first his face couldn't be seen, until...it could.

It's none other than famous South Korean "Tomorrow" actor, Lee Soohyuk. Like she said, it appears Miss L/N is indeed, into older men now – but what went down with her previous partner, fellow top model Kim Taehyung ?

Comment your thoughts down bellow !!

#YnLn #LeeSoohyuk #KimTaehyung #koreandispatch

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user chanel told yn "no way you're dating a celine boy on our watch ! here, have a dior MAN instead."

⤿ user LMAO 😭😭

user so mother wasn't kidding ? she really is into older men...

user damn he's fine...

user ...daddy ? yeah, he's very much daddy.

user I watched the drama and i fell for him immediately... he is SO GORGEOUS OMFG

⤿ user SAME OMG, honestly, mother yn slayed

ynusername added to their story

[ seen by leesoohyuk, iamhyunjishin, and 8 238 333 others ]

leesoohyuk

liked by ynusername, sooyaaa_, and 3 448 090 others

leesoohyuk my pretty,

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user OH. MY. FUCKING. GOD.

user this feels surreal. this man almost NEVER posts.

user tell me he's not hacked...cause it's been 7 months since his last post

ynusername your pretty what, hon ?"

⤿ leesoohyuk come over from that side of the bath and I'll tell you.

[ liked by ynusername ]

⤿ user I...what...they...oh.

⤿ user THE BATH !?

user holy shit this is...this is... MY PARENTS !?

user bro said screw soft launching, this is a HARD LAUNCH

user a whole post dedicated to her ? oh yeah, he's in deep.

ynusername

liked by leesoohyuk, xeesoxee, and 9 334 990 others

ynusername and in a world full of boys, he's a gentleman ♡

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user yes mother. YES MOTHER.

taylorswift i am in love with your love.

[ liked by ynusername ]

user TAYTAY !? okay, taylor and yn collab WHEN

user he truly treats her like a queen...where's my older man ? 😔

user them>>> the wolrd.

leesoohyuk you deserve only the best, my love

⤿ ynusername mhm...so, round 3 ?

[ liked by leesoohyuk ]

user I'm sorry...WHAT !?!!!?

user oh they are insane... and i love it.

user so... onlyfans when ?

user I am so here for yn's idgaf attitude, because she ain't messing with boys no more, she has a MAN now.

[ liked by ynusername ]

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

#jennie kim #lee soo hyuk #smau #kdrama #blackpink #kpop

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thefandomthings · 2 months

Text

Follower Milestone Event!

Hello everyone! I have finally reached 230 followers and have decided to do a prompt event! Thank you to all who are participating or interacting with the posts, its greatly appreciated!

How it works: Send a request with your character of choice and a prompt/prompts from the list bellow and ill write it!

Notice: These will not be long fics, just little drabbles. Once the prompt has been used it'll be crossed off. <3

Dividers: @/cafekitsune Masterlist Masterlist #2

꧁༺ 𝓕𝓵𝓾𝓯𝓯/𝓢𝓸𝓯𝓽 𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓶𝓹𝓽𝓼 ༻꧂

"You can call me whenever you want, even if you don't have a reason to."

"Quite smiling at me, I can't stop messing up my sentences when you look at me like that."

"Tell me you love me."

"Can you read to me?"

"I need to go but- one more kiss."

"I like when you say my name like that."

"Your eyes are like doves, my darling."

"If the whole world was watching, I'd still dance with you."

"I love you." "Say it again." "I love you."

"You're really fucking cute when you are jealous."

"Shes not yours."

"I love your bedhead."

"You're mine."

"Why are you on the table?". "A better view of life..". "Where is the spider?". "....By the door...."

"Do you like my new dress/suit?"

"Whats on your mind? I want to listen."

"You can call me whenever you want, even if you don't have a reason to."

"I love you're lips." "Why don't you kiss them then?"

"You're utterly gorgeous, I can't stop looking at you."

"I can't live without you, darling."

"Between ice cream and you, you might be my favorite."

"You're so damn beautiful, baby. I cant believe your all fucking mine."

"You are my new pillow."

"You have a beautiful soul."

"You're enough. You are more than enough."

"I don't understand, but i believe you."

"Is that my shirt?"

"Look at you, so small and cute :3" "Shut the hell up."

"If i ever lost you, I'd fall apart."

"You own my heart."

"Dance with me."

"Can i play with your hair?"

"You ramble and its adorable."

"Give. Me. The. Remote."

"You're a woman, that alone makes you magic."

"You're the only one who calls me that. Its kinda cute."

"Its not a double date, we're just third and fourth wheeling."

"Don't you dare throw that snowba-Goddammit!"

"Should i stop talking?". "Don't, your voice is very soothing."

"You say she/he hung the moon, I say she/he hung the galaxy."

ʜᴜʀᴛ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛs

"Every time i see you, I feel more alone."

"I'm not going to kiss you, you broke my heart."

"Where were you when I needed you most?"

"I trusted you. With everything."

"I loved you, I really did."

"It doesn't matter what i want."

"Did you really think you'd get a second chance?"

"Cant i come with you?". "You know you can't."

"I know i shouldn't be here."

"You shouldn't have come."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"I don't hate you..". "I know sweetheart."

"I didn't say I don't love you!". "Well you certainly didn't say it back."

"You see them they way I see you."

"That hurt you son of a bitch..."

"I have a right to be angry."

"I thought you were dead."

"You used me, just like everyone else."

"That was never my intention, Y/n.".

"Stop lying to my face."

"Are you ashamed of me?"

"Why are you being like this?"

"Don't shut me out."

"Why wont it just stop?"

"Just talk to me."

"I would give up everything for you, my love, but I shouldn't have to."

"You're late."

"I love the way you hate me."

"Sorry doesn't fix everything."

"You could have died!". "I didn't-". "Well you were pretty fucking close."

"You're not a bad guy."

"Isn't it enough yet?"

"I woke up, and you were gone."

"Those things you said yesterday....Did you mean them?"

"I'm not sure how many coffees it takes for me to be happy, but so far, its not twelve."

"Just admit I'm right."

"Just admit you're wrong."

"Don't yell at me."

"That wasn't what i asked."

"Please don't make me answer that..."

𝙎𝙪𝙜𝙜𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙋𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙩𝙨

"Make me."

"Can I sit in your lap?"

"Say the word and I'm yours."

"We have to make this quick."

"Does it make you nervous when I stare?"

"...Or we could just get naked?"

"You either shut up, or I make you."

"Don't give me that look."

"First one to make a noise losses."

"Close the door."

"Wait your turn, love."

"Behave."

"Ngl, that turned me on."

"Come here."

"Oh really?"

"I only want to please you."

"Again."

"You have 5 seconds to get upstairs."

"Is there a reason why you are naked in my bed?"

"Stop moving."

"You could be wearing a trash bag, and I'd still want you."

"Thought we could do a little more than just kissing."

"Look me in the eyes."

"Give me your hands."

"Sit down. Now."

"I think we should have another."

"Take it off."

"You are so perfect."

"More."

"Hold still."

"This is new."

"Lay back.''

"Eyes on me."

"You belong to me."

"Bite me.". "Don't tempt me sweetheart."

"Fuck." "Already did that."

"Watch your tone."

"Since it's you, Ill let it go...Just this once, understand?"

"You think you can run that pretty little mouth of yours whenever you want?!"

"Yell at me again, and Ill give you a reason to scream."

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gabessquishytum · 4 months

Note

Ferdinand Kingsley in Reacher is doing very wrong things to my head. I swear to god I do not normally find arms smugglers appealing in any way & do not even like military/copaganda shows & am thoroughly ashamed. But I've been thinking like... what if Hob is a gun guy with a progressive club that trains/protects marginalized groups (like Trigger Warning Queer & Trans Club: https://www.facebook.com/triggerwarninggunclub/ or any of these here: https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2019/jul/22/if-others-have-rifles-well-have-rifles-why-leftist-groups-are-taking-up-arms )

And ok, he's totally not a SMUGGLER (hates that word) but he will SOMETIMES help someone get a weapon who needs to protect themselves but can't because of bullshit convictions — like sex workers or people who've gotten caught up in spurious War on Drugs(/Poverty) crap or honestly just the racist system, whatever. And his background checks are like 1000x more careful than any of the usual gun show loophole-riddled checks anyway, & everyone who gets a weapon knows they'll have to answer to him if they go bad with it.

But mostly he's a friendly face teaching new folks their way around a weapon when they've literally never held one before or have only ever been to ranges full of 'phobes where they felt even less safe.

And maybe one day he comes across this skinny wild-haired Murphy shooting cans in the woods because things have gotten bad & he feels even LESS safe than he has his whole life here & he knows he's on his own to defend himself — it's not like reporting it would do any good, the Burgesses are too powerful in this little town & even his own family isn't that helpful. And Hob is like "Woah, woah, woah, where is your ear protection and also how about moving this safely to a range, my friend!" But he has to do some convincing because Murphy only ever knew about the 'phobe-filled ranges and has a hard time believing that someone would actually want to help/protect him & not have shitty views. And honestly Hob is SCARY attractive — emphasis on scary because Murphy has only ever known the worst kind of open-carry gun guys & actually come to think of it maybe shifting to a more populated location is wise...

And anyway, Hob is fucking great actually, and makes Murphy feel safe & introduces him to everybody at the local group & personally sees to his training, which is how they start really getting to know each other & boning all the damn time. And when Murphy moves into Hob's apartment, he feels safer than he ever has in his life.

And the Burgesses back the fuck off because they are cowardly fuckers at heart & honestly it turns out there are more people willing to stand up to them than they thought.

Queer Hob who hunts down homophobes in the woods for sport... hmm yes im vibing with this!! The thing I love about a.m in Reacher is the ✨️eroticism✨️ of the way he kills people. It's so gorgeous and there's a definite queer spiciness about him.

So yes Hob is a queer guy who is absolutely sick and kind of jaded by the way he's been treated him whole life, and he's determined to spread his self defence skills as far and wide around the gays as possible. When he finds out about the Burgesses and all that bullshit he's actually quite excited to teach lil baby gay Murphy to shoot and stab (when necessary). Hob doesn't have any intentions towards the young man, because he definitely is young and Hob doesn't really do relationships these days... but once he sees Murphy all kitted out and getting into Hob’s little group of gun toting gays, mud streaked on his cheeks and stomping around in his big boots!! Hob’s heart melts!!

Meanwhile Murphy is going weak at the knees over the older, slightly grizzled, VERY sexy man who's hands are covering his, teaching him how to point and shoot the gun, how to be safe. If Murphy falls asleep thinking about those hands in other, more intimate places... who's gonna blame him?

And if he ends up planting himself right in Hob’s lap when they sit down after target practice, that's his business. The way Hob wraps an arm around his waist to keep him safe gives him a good feeling about the future, anyways <3

#cowardly--throwaway #the sandman #dreamling #nsft #cw guns

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aanoia · 8 months

Note

Also also what about mine by Taylor swift with Remus?!?

It's out finally! I don't know why this was so hard to make lmfao.

Mine

Remus Lupin x reader words; 2226 (222 has been showing up EVERYWHERE and it's funny bc i found out my life path number is 11/2) song; Mine by T Swizzle (Taylor Swift) Warnings; death? idek gonna be working on requests for a while tonight by the way so expect more coming out! I just got my own henna cones bc im obsessed with henna i think it's so gorgeous (i would go to an actual henna artist to get it done bc i SUCK (for now) and we love supporting small businesses, but the only time there's one in my city is during the fair so i decided to buy my own) anywho have fun, LOVE YOU LOVING-AND-DREAMING <3

Oh-oh, oh-oh

You were in college working part time waitin' tables

Left a small town, never looked back

“Mr. Lupin, would you like to explain what is so interesting about Miss L/n, or may we continue with no distractions?” Professor McGonagall asked and I looked up from my paper as Sirius let out little laughs. Remus turned red as he smiled sheepishly at McGonagall.

“You may continue.” He said quietly and she nodded, smirking slightly.

“Thank you for your permission.” She said sarcastically and continued. Remus glanced at me again and I looked back down to my paper, pretending not to notice.

I was a flight risk with a fear of falling

Wonderin' why we bother with love if it never lasts

“Siriu-”

Sirius put his finger on my lips, silencing me as Remus tried to pull his friend away. “No, listen up, missy. I understand your parents suck at being married, mine do too, but that’s no reason to keep rejecting my poor best friend here when you’re obviously in love with him. You will go out with him, and you will have a good time. Understood?” He demanded and I nodded, flashing Remus a small smile.

I say, "Can you believe it?"

As we're lying on the couch

The moment, I can see it

Yes, yes, I can see it now

“I’m so glad you said yes.” Remus said softly, placing a gentle kiss on the top of my head.

I giggled quietly, “Yes, I am too, Rem.” I sighed happily as the fire quietly crackled, shaking my head slightly at the whole reason we were officially together. Damn Sirius.

Do you remember we were sitting there by the water?

You put your arm around me for the first time

My laughter echoed throughout the courtyard as I ran from Remus as quickly as I could. My legs burned and they involuntarily slowed, allowing Remus to catch up to me and wrap his arms around me in a big hug, swinging us side to side as we both laughed loudly.

You made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter

You are the best thing that's ever been mine

I slapped my hand over my mouth, trying to quiet my breathing as we hid from the caretaker. I looked at Remus with wide eyes and he just grinned at me, proud he finally got me to break a rule and go out past curfew. I shook my head, thankful my hand was covering the small smile gracing my lips.

Flash forward, and we're taking on the world together

And there's a drawer of my things at your place

“I’m home!” Remus called out loudly and I snorted, walking out of the kitchen and leaning against the doorframe with my arms crossed.

“Just move in already.” I suggested and he smiled and shook his head.

“Sure.” He agreed and my eyes widened, my arms dropped to my sides as my back straightened out.

“Really?” He nodded with a smile and I laughed happily, throwing my arms around him in a big hug. “Finally.”

You learn my secrets, and you figure out why I'm guarded

You say we'll never make my parents' mistakes

“We are not your parents, Y/n.” Remus said, trying to grab ahold of my hand but I pulled away, tears stinging my eyes.

“You’re not, Rem, you obviously aren’t. But what if I am?” I whispered, a tear falling down my cheek.

He wiped the tear away and let his hand rest on my face, “What if you aren’t?” He challenged, kissing my forehead softly.

But we got bills to pay

We got nothing figured out

“No, only two. If we have three, one will feel left out.” I said and Remus shook his head.

“No, everything happens in trios. They’re much better than duos.”

\ “I don’t care. Two is better anyway, easier to take care of.”

“But thre-”

I glared at the man in front of me, “I don’t care. Two cats, that’s it.”

When it was hard to take

Yes, yes, this is what I thought about

“You got three, didn’t you?” I asked as I stood at the front door, already hearing the loud meowing from inside.

Remus smiled sheepishly and shrugged, “Perhaps.”

Do you remember we were sitting there by the water?

You put your arm around me for the first time

My hand flew to my mouth as waves crashed against the shore.

Remus knelt in front of me, a nervous smile on his face as James, Sirius, Lily, and the newest member of our family, Harry, stood around us. Sirius held tightly onto the big camera as he chanted yes.

“Remus- yes, oh my, yes!” I exclaimed, not giving him time to stand up and instead kneeled down to kiss him, forgetting about the ring as his back hit the sand, our laughter following as a loud click and flash filled our senses.

You made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter

You are the best thing that's ever been mine

“Remember, no cake in my face.” I warned Remus as we were about to cut our wedding cake.

He smiled, “Of course.”

I winked to Sirius, who once again had a camera, and held in my laughs as the knife sunk into the cake. Instead of waiting for the piece to be fully cut, I grabbed a chunk of cake from the opposite side - the camera clicked and flashed - and smashed it into Remus’ face. He froze before wiping the cake from his eyes and looking at me with a familiar glint in his eyes.

“I’m gonna get you.”

Do you remember all the city lights on the water?

You saw me start to believe for the first time

The lights of the eiffel tower shined brightly onto the water as I watched with awe in my eyes. Remus looked at me fondly, love coursing through his veins as he gazed at his wife.

“You’re beautiful.” He whispered and I looked at him, a blush spilling over my cheeks. Truthfully, he was the beautiful one. The way the lights highlighted his face and sparkled in his honey brown eyes entranced me as I smiled.

“You’re beautiful, as well.”

You made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter

You are the best thing that's ever been mine

Oh-oh, oh

Remus narrowed his eyes at the girl Sirius brought to Christmas dinner. Usually, it didn’t matter to him what anyone was wearing, as long as they liked it it was fine. But wearing something that's easily comparable to what a stripper would wear to a dinner where you were informed about children being present, was a little far.

“Remus.” I gently grabbed his hand. “I know you don’t like her, I don’t either, but please be civil.”

“What if we prank her?” He whispered back.

I snorted, but my smile dropped as I realized he was being serious, “No, what?”

He nodded, “Please?”

I hesitated before sighing, “Fine. Let’s do it.”

I quietly walked back from the bathroom and froze as I saw the prank had worked. Sirius’ new girl was screeching loudly as her skin turned green and warts popped up randomly. I looked Remus in the eye as he held in his laughter. I winked at him and he smiled proudly, we did it. The best part, by far, was the loud giggling of baby Harry as he watched the witch begin to cry angrily. I picked up the boy and laughed with him, gently tickling his sides only making his laughs harder.

And I remember that fight, 2:30 a.m

As everything was slipping right out of our hands

“No, goddamnit, Y/n, it’s my life!” Remus yelled and I shook my head.

“No, Remus, it’s our life! It became our life when you married me!” I yelled back louder, briefly glancing at the clock and internally wincing. 2:26 AM the clock read.

“I want to be a teacher, what’s so bad about that?”

I threw my hands up, “Do you listen to me, Remus? I’ve told you over and over it’s fucking Hogwarts! I love that place but these past few years it’s gotten dangerous! I won’t let you teach there.” I explained as tears stung at my eyes.

“I don’t care! You don’t get an opinion on this!”

I ran out crying, and you followed me out into the street

I pushed the door open roughly and ran to the street, the rain beating down on me as I sobbed and fell to my knees. The water collected on the rough cement soaked my pajama pants, only making me cry harder at the small inconvenience.

Braced myself for the goodbye

'Cause that's all I've ever known

The door slammed open again and I shut my eyes tightly, preparing myself for the inevitable. My body shook, from the cold or the crying, I really didn't know. Probably both. I waited for him to ask for the rings back and leave me there on my own.

I opened my eyes and watched Remus’ figure get closer as I struggled to take the rings off.

“What are you doing?” He asked, fear in his voice.

“I already know you want them back.”

Then you took me by surprise

You said, "I'll never leave you alone"

To my surprise, he wrapped his arms around me tightly, swaying side to side slightly like he always did.

“Never.” He whispered.

You said, "I remember how we felt, sitting by the water

And every time I look at you, it's like the first time

“Y/n?” He asked above the rain.

“Yeah?”

“Do you remember when we were running around the courtyard because you were being a grumpy pants and wouldn’t hug me?”

I nodded and smiled fondly at the memory. “Yeah, and then you caught me by the lake and we almost fell in.” He pulled away and looked at me fondly.

I fell in love with a careless man's careful daughter

She is the best thing that's ever been mine"

“That’s the moment I knew I was gonna marry you one day. That’s when I knew I loved you and never wanted to be away from you.”

I looked at him with a small smile, “Really?”

He nodded, “I swear on my beautiful wife.”

Hold on and make it last

Hold on, never turn back

I sat quietly on the train, reading my book as nostalgia filled my body. Remus sat next to me, his coat draped over his eyes so he could rest. I glanced at him and sighed, shaking my head and wondering how he convinced me to not only let him teach, but also have me co-teach Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid.

“This is the only open compartment.” A voice said and I looked up from my book. My breath left my body as I saw a familiar boy walk through the compartment door, a boy and a girl following after him.

The boy looked at me with a small smile. “I’m sorry. Is it alright if we sit in here? Everywhere else is full.”

I nodded with a smile, “Of course.” He glanced at Remus’ sleeping figure and sat across from me.

“My names Harry Potter, and this is Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. Are you a new professor?” Harry asked and my heart clenched.

“Yes, I am. Professor L/n, pleasure to meet you three, I’ll be co-teaching with Hagrid, I’m sure you know him. This lump next to me is my husband, also a new professor. Professor Lupin, unfortunately he’s exhausted so he’s simply napping.”

Harry nodded in understanding, “Is he our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?”

“Yes, he is.”

(Hold on) you made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter

(Hold on) you are the best thing that's ever been mine

“Well, well, well.” I said, leaning against the doorframe as I watched Remus and Sirius hug. Sirius pulled away and looked at me with a smirk. “If it isn’t Sirius Black, back from Azkaban.”

“I’m innocent, Y/n/n. I swea-”

I cut him off with a big hug, winking at Remus who smiled at me gratefully. “I know you are, Sirius. I know.”

Do you believe it?

We're gonna make it now

“If we di-”

“We won’t.” Remus persisted.

“Rem. If we die, just know how much I love you, alright? You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I’m so grateful to have you as my husband and my best friend.”

Remus sighed and nodded, “I love you too. But we won’t die, my love. We’ve got someone to live for.” I smiled as we both looked to our newborn son who gurgled quietly in his sleep.

“Yes, we have someone to live for.”

And I can see it (yeah, yeah)

I watched in horror as the group of Death Eater’s pointed their wands together. I grabbed Remus’ hand tightly as they muttered a powerful spell together, sending Remus and I flying back before the world went dark and Sirius’ voice filled my eyes.

“Finally.” He said.

“We’ve been waiting forever for you two to die.” A new voice said. James?

“You two gits, be quiet.” Lily. “Welcome home.”

I can see it now

taglist (if you want to be added just comment :));

@1lellykins @poetrypirate @loving-and-dreaming

#aanoia #romance #marauders era #remus lupin #the marauders #james & peter & remus & sirius #sirius black #harry potter #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fluff #marauders #peter pettigrew

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roseharpermaxwell · 4 months

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RWRB FirstPrince Holiday Recs

Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's Eve - click below for my favorites.

I Don't Know About You, But I'm Feeling... by IBoatedHere. T, 794 words. Four birthdays in Alex's life.

kiss me, and tell me that i’ll see you again by fxckingeyelashes. T, 2k. “Forgive me if I’m being too forward, but are you into guys perhaps? I’d like to know if I have a chance.”

“A chance at what?” Alex raises his eyebrows. It’s only then that he notices the rainbow G A Y under Henry’s name.

“A chance to be your new year’s kiss.”

(you can start) a family who will always show you love by @waterloolovers. T, 2.1k. “Confetti eggs.”

“Cascarones, but yes,” Alex grins, “I’ll give you a pass since your Spanish is a bit tragic.”

“Rude.” Henry rolls his eyes fondly. “So you just… chase each other around and try to smash eggs on each other? Seems rather messy with confetti going everywhere.”

“It’s very messy, but that’s the fun part of it. It’s meant to bring good fortune for the rest of the year."

The Spirit of Giving by @cha-melodius. T, 2.3k. His practice tamales come out pretty damned good, if he says so himself, and the ones for the holiday party are going to be even better. Alex is confident now that there’s no way his won’t be the best dish a the whole potluck; he’s definitely going to win (and no, he doesn’t care that you can’t ‘win’ a potluck, June).

(1 million words challenge holiday edition, prompt: “My holiday dish is better than your holiday dish.”)

Speaking my Language by HMS_Chill. G, 2.3k. Prompt:

"Alex always saying sweet things to Henry in Spanish but won't tell him what any of it means, and he's always google translating them and awe-ing at how cute Alex is and then like maybe he learns how to say something adorable to and says it to Alex and Alex just like melts or something"

one of your girls. by seafloor. M, 2.4k. New Years Eve; three years later. An hour before midnight.

Santa, Tell Me by @harrysglasses. G, 2.5k. Henry receives a very special gift from his office Secret Santa and is determined to find out who it's from.

we play all day (and spread holiday cheer) by headabovethewater. E, 2.5k. Nora guffaws. “You fucked Santa’s Elf?!”

“I mean,” Alex pauses and shrugs, “not with the costume on, obviously.”

“I can’t fucking believe you,” Nora exclaims, her hands cupping her own face in disbelief. She looks over Alex’s shoulder and cocks an eyebrow, before she lowers her hands and her tone, and asks, “Since when do you have a thing for blondes?”

I'll Have a Flu Christmas by @three-drink-amy. G, 2.7k. Plans go awry when Alex comes down with the flu right before Christmas while Henry waits for him to fly over and meet him in England. Prepared to spend Christmas sick and alone, Alex doesn't expect Henry to take matters into his own hands.

i think i'm falling for you by WaterlooLovers. T, 2.8k. Henry blinks at the man. He’s thankful the rink is fairly dark, only disco lights and black lights surrounding them, so the man can’t see the blush on his cheeks. The man is gorgeous, and still holding his waist, and Henry might be hallucinating. Maybe he did crack his skull on the hard rink floor. “Um.”

Trick or Kiss by ronans. NR, 2.9k. Henry’s been here for ten minutes and he’s already causing Alex to feel some feelings. He supposes Henry has made him a bit scared with his costume, but not in the god given Halloween way he should.

Or, Alex is throwing the Halloween party of the year and can't quite figure out why the Prince of England is haunting his every thought.

May Your New Years Dreams Come True by chamel. T, 3.1k. “In fact, I’d wager money my date will by far be the hottest there.”

Hunter scoffs, which honestly Henry doesn’t understand. It’s not like Alex hasn’t pulled in some real lookers to previous years’ parties, much to Henry’s chagrin. “Really? You want to bet?”

Alex shrugs. “Sure.”

“Henry,” Hunter says suddenly, finally—and unfortunately—acknowledging that he’s actually been standing there the whole time. “You want in on this?”

(1 million words challenge holiday edition, prompt: "Competition to see who can bring the hottest date to the New Year’s party")

you and me, forevermore by @theprinceandagcd. T, 3.1k. "He pushes up on his toes to kiss Henry, who returns the kiss immediately, greedily, tongue brushing against his in a way that makes Alex's brain short circuit just as much as it did a year ago.

A year ago.

It still does something to him, stirs something deep inside him that makes his entire body feel like pure mush. It's a memory burned so bright in his mind - cold air, a buzz in his veins, a tree in a quiet garden, fingers gripping his face, soft lips against his.

The night his world turned on its axis and shifted toward Henry, altering his path and forever tilting him closer."

Or, Alex and Henry on New Year's Eve, one year after their first, and Alex wants it to be special.

don't let me get drunk again by @getmehighonmagic. E, 3.1k. Alex had never wanted to cancel plans as much as he had while watching Henry pull a pair of light wash, tight jeans over his stockinged legs and bare ass.

Christ, he’s getting hard thinking about it now.

Merry Christmas, Darling by lucy_in_the_sky. E, 3.2k. Alex and Henry's first Christmas together as a couple. Just some good ol' fashioned Christmas smut

Wherever you are, as ever I remain by gallifreyandglowclouds. M, 3.4k. 'It’s transparently a lie, and he shouldn’t lie to Alex, but he can’t help it in the moment. He so badly wants everything to just be fine, to love this new life without a foot stuck in the old one.'

Henry can't help but feel a little homesick during his first Christmas in Brooklyn.

stars by the pocketful by weather_stained. T, 3.7k. Henry is having a terrible Halloween, so terrible that he completely forgets it even is Halloween until Alex shows up at his door asking to borrow a prop for June's costume.

Though Henry opts out of June's Halloween party, Alex makes sure he doesn't spend the holiday alone.

Call It Even by @smc-27. T, 3.7k. Alex shrugs. “I’ll go with you.”

Terrible, terrible, no good idea.

Too bad his mouth works faster than his brain. Which is…another thing he wishes to not think about. His mouth, and Alex, and all the things he could do to that man.

“All right.”

Fuck.

(aka: henry needs a +1 for a holiday party. his roommate offers.)

Help Yourself to Happiness by ronans. NR, 3.8k. ‘So you’re taking the post down, I assume? Now we’re both sober and in control of our impulses?’

Pez barks a laugh. ‘Absolutely not.’

‘I know we discussed the very real possibility that I would cry myself into oblivion without you here singing horrendously off key Christmas carols, but… isn’t this a little… desperate?’

‘I’m willing to see where this will take us, aren’t you?’ Pez asks, raising an eyebrow.

‘Says the man who would be safely out of the country after setting his best friend up with a potential murderer.’

Pez levels him with a look and then picks up Henry’s phone. ‘How many polos did he play?’ Pez turns the screen around so Henry can see the comment. ‘Does that sound like a person with murderous tendencies?’

Henry snatches the phone back. ‘This is a terrible idea.’

Or, A drunken night leads to Pez posting on Reddit, calling on any singles in the area to help Henry be a little less lonely this Christmas.

I'm not gay, but my apparel is by @clottedcreamfudge. T, 4.5k. “I’m not a salesman,” Alex points out, coming out from behind the counter and rolling up his sleeves. “I’m a purveyor of oddities, curiosities, and intrigue.”

“Yes, I saw your sign.”

“And now here we are,” Alex says, gesturing grandly and expansively to the space around him.

“Here we are,” the man says softly, then pulls one hand out of his coat pocket and holds it out to Alex. “Henry Fox-Mountchristen. I would like to purchase an oddity, curiosity, or an item of intrigue.”

you bring blue lights to dreams by headabovethewater. E, 4.5k. When Alex pulls him a bit closer and kisses him again, he thinks he sees a flash of blue peek through the opening in Henry’s shirt, but he ignores the thrill that travels down his spine and shrugs it off. Wishful thinking, he’s sure.

Or, Henry surprises Alex as they celebrate New Year's Eve together.

baby, be mine by strwbrryfox. T, 4.8k. five times alex asks henry to be his valentine and one time henry beats him to it ♥️

many times, many ways by @littlemisskittentoes. M, 4.8k. The thing is, Alex knows he can’t replace the bittersweet wave of memories that swarm Henry’s head at the sight of snow flurries and smell of peppermint in the air. He doesn’t want to. He wants Henry to keep those close, even if it is through the sepia tone of melancholy.

But Alex can’t help but wonder if maybe he can find a way to balance poignancy with something a bit easier. Something a little bit lighter. Something Henry can revisit to understand where he belongs, how he fits into the “happy” of it all any time he needs.

He looks over to Henry, finally asleep against his chest. He takes in the gentle slope of Henry’s nose, the fluttered fan of eyelashes against moon-bathed cheeks. He fixates on the subtle canyon, the soft part of Henry’s lips, the phantom wind of a silent snore, and Alex knows: the very least he can do is try.

or, holidays have always come as a reminder to Henry of what he’s lost. But Alex always manages to remind him of everything he’s gained too.

Ink it in on my skin, sign me up, make it last against the time by @hgejfmw-hgejhsf. E, 5.2k. “Okay, then,” Alex says, and Henry can’t help but smile at the hint of mischief creeping into his voice, “there’s two weeks until Valentine’s Day. We each have that long to make it happen, and we’ll do a big reveal that night. Deal?” Flecks of gold are shimmering in his copper eyes. Henry leans forward, catching Alex’s lips to seal their accord.

“Agreed.”

Alex and Henry both decide to get tattoos.

I must tell you what you will not ask by @lizzie-bennetdarcy. E, 5.3k. Henry's plans for Christmas fall through, so Alex invites him home for the holidays. They're best friends, strictly platonic roommates, so why does everyone think they're dating?

Have you ever been alone in a crowded room? by @hgejfmw-hgejhsf. T, 5.4k. When the Legendary Balls-Out Bananas White House Trio New Year's Eve Party is interrupted by a security threat, Henry, Pez, Nora, June, and Alex find themselves locked in the White House library for their own protection with nothing but time, a few bottles of champagne, and some lighthearted conversation, until a single question threatens to change everything for Henry.

You and Me, Forevermore by milowren. NR, 5.6k. When Henry gets sick a few days after Christmas, he and Alex end up celebrating New Year's together in a different way than they planned.

where every wish comes true by @hypnostheory. E, 6k. “Locked out?”

“I forgot my keys,” Alex says with a sigh, leaning against his door with a muted shiver. He was planning on a heated Uber ride to June’s apartment, not standing out in the cold ass hallway. Alex hugs his coat closer to his chest. “My friend has my spare.”

Henry nods, leaning against his own door frame. Alex isn’t sure what the man does outside of going to grad school at NYU, but it must be bench-pressing horses based on the size of his biceps. Henry reaches up to push his glasses higher on his nose and Alex swears he wasn’t that bisexual when the day started. “Would you like to wait in my apartment for your friend?”

Alex gets locked out his apartment on Christmas Eve. He's forced to take refuge in his neighbor and occasional fuck buddy Henry's apartment, and together the two get into the Christmas spirit with the help of a festive costume and a silk ribbon.

The Honeymoon Suite by clottedcreamfudge. E, 6.1k. Henry's plane is grounded, which is absolutely fine, and not at all the worst possible outcome on Christmas Eve when he should already be on his way to London. Alex's plane is also grounded, but fortunately for his leggy British co-worker, he's a generous soul who's happy to share the room he managed to bag at a local hotel while they wait for their new flights.

So, so generous.

Baby, it's Halloween and we can be anything by sheisraging. E, 6.3k. Alex is furious. More furious than he should be about the whole thing, but still. Plans were made. Money was spent. Costumes were purchased—not even rented—purchased!

it's in the stars, it's who we are by @indomitable-love. E, 6.4k. 'Henry pulls back with wide, startled eyes, releases him roughly and staggers backwards. He lets out a mumbled curse and turns on his heel, and Alex has just enough of something still firing in his brain to reach out and catch Henry’s wrist. Just enough awareness of the fact that Henry is about to run, to say, ‘No, wait,’ before he can disappear through the snow.'

or, the AU where Henry doesn't run after the New Year's Eve kiss.

Re: Inappropriate Festive Party Conduct [Sent with High Importance!] by @largepeachicedtea. E, 6.5k.

Alex has changed his suit into something soft-looking and appropriately red, though the white shirt with the holly pin is still there, now accompanied by a trail of sparkly tinsel around his neck like a festive scarf. He’s holding a whiskey glass in one hand, leaning into something Nora is saying, and looks positively lethal. “Christ,” Henry mutters through a gulp of cider. “He looks good,” Pez agrees through a cheshire grin. “He always looks good,” Henry says. “Right now, he looks–” “Henry! Pez!” “Fuck.” “Alexander!” Pez hollers. “Babes!”

—

An office holiday party AU where Alex and Henry ignore the first rule of corporate festivities: Don't hook up with your coworker.

Ho for the Holidays by @whimsymanaged. E, 6.8k. “Listen, don’t worry about this,” Henry says quickly, already mentally crafting the passive-aggressive text he’s going to send Pez. “Better luck next year. I’ll just be off—“

“Hold your damn horses.” Alex stops Henry with a fast, surprisingly gentle hand to his wrist. His eyebrows furrow. “What did you put on your questionnaire?”

Henry’s ears go hot. “That’s none of your business.”

Alex scoffs and leans in closer. “Baby, we matched. It’s safe to say we have at least some interests in common. Be honest—was it because you confessed to having a secret desire to slap me?”

Or, Pez organizes an event called Ho for the Holidays, and these two idiots get paired up.

all my time is yours to spend by smc_27. T, 6.8k. Any way you look at it, Bea is not meant to be here, and if it were just the lights, he’d assume she forgot to turn them off. The fire burning is another thing entirely. The weather has been dreadful, and perhaps her flight was canceled. Surely, she’d have told him as much.

He should investigate.

Waffles & Conversation by clottedcreamfudge. E, 7k. “I’m fine, I swear. I just need to give it a proper clean and I’ll be fine.”

Ellen isn’t convinced. “Okay, but you’re letting Henry look at it later.”

Alex grits his teeth for what must be the thousandth time today and tries to keep his voice level. “No, I’m not. He’s a vet, mom.”

“And he’s the closest thing to a doctor we have coming tonight,” she says firmly, letting him take his hand back and raising her eyebrows at him. “It’s that or the ER, honey. Your choice.”

You're the Perfect Gift for Me by @cha-melodius. T, 7.2k. “Twenty-one-year-old Scotch,” the man says with a low whistle, looking more impressed than anything else. “Special occasion or just expensive taste?”

Alex can’t stop his grimace. “Came up here to propose,” he says, even though this random stranger doesn’t need to hear his woes. “Found out my girlfriend’s getting back together with her high school sweetheart.”

“Ouch,” the man replies, the word sounding slightly absurd in his rounded, posh accent. He looks at the bartender. “Leave the bottle.”

(Dumped two days before Christmas by his girlfriend, Alex meets a British writer who's spending Christmas on his own in generic Tiny Town, USA, and together they discover something new to celebrate.)

Snowed In? Snow Problem by @rmd-writes. E, 7.3k. The challenge: to write a fun college AU for the queen of college AUs (though she’ll probably be mad at me for saying so). Bonus points for also including the only one bed and getting caught doing something sus tropes.

The result: hopefully all of the above, plus they’re snowed in for the holidays.

AKA Henry and Alex get snowed in at their dorm for the holidays, whatever will they do?

It's Not Thanksgiving Without the Turkeys by allmylovesatonce. M, 7.5k. Thanksgiving 2020, Alex invites Henry to join the Claremont-Diaz family for Thanksgiving. More than anything, they're excited for another excuse to be together.

(Valen)Tie Me Up by @happinessofthepursuit. E, 7.7k. “Well, I actually made your gift at one of Pez’s workshops, though I’m sure they would’ve gotten it out of me anyway,” Henry says, voice fond.

Alex’s mind is whirring, going through the monthly calendars from Seize the Play. Pez leads classes multiple times a week, but there’s only a few that Henry could’ve attended, and one in particular that would explain his own gift…

“Which one?” Alex asks.

“I think that’ll immediately be clear.”

Or, Alex and Henry exchange gifts for their first Valentine’s together—then proceed to use them.

you make it look so easy, i know it's not by @anincompletelist. T, 7.9k. Bea’s to his left, speaking frantically on the phone with who Henry hopes is the fire brigade or someone else trained to deal with these— situations. In front of him, Pez is fumbling frustratedly with the water hose, showcasing his colorful vocabulary with a flourish of jerky hand movements and chaotic pacing. On either side of the fence, his neighbors are peaking over the sides to ask if everything’s okay, and Henry feels the resolution to make a good first impression crumbling and slipping rapidly out of his grasp. Even David watches on from inside the house, his sage eyes and patriotic bowtie appraising the scene and looking back to Henry as if to say I told you so.

And the fryer — the fryer itself is up in flames, thick gray smoke swirling up into the air and soaring high above the tree line now. In the distance, the echo of sirens. Henry may faint right here, in the middle of his backyard at his new home before he's even unpacked, with all the neighbors and his family and friends watching on, on his first official American Thanksgiving. It is, by all means, not what he’d envisioned for the day.

everything ever written about love by greenandmoss. E, 8.4k.

“Bet you’re glad you knocked on this door.”

“I am, actually.” Smiles should not be this disarming. It’s disconcerting.

It’s like they’re in a movie, where all the lines are pre-written, and the smiles and the looks all mean something. The couple are scripted to catch eyes, and fall in love with each other the second their lips touch. But that’s fucking ridiculous. Henry sits there like some kind of James-Bond-Jude-Law heartthrob, and Alex’s life is not a movie. This is not how real life plays out.

Or: The Holiday au but it's just that one scene where Cameron Diaz meets Jude Law

Save a Horse, Ride a Princess by @affectionatelyrs. E, 8.6k. “I have to say, this is all quite literal, don’t you think?”

Alex wouldn’t know literal right now if it hit him in the head. “Huh?”

Henry points at Alex: “Pillow Princess,” and then to himself: “Cowboy. Ready to ride and all that.”

Alex nods dumbly. “Right.”

Or, Alex and Henry dress up as the ultimate couples costume for Halloween — themselves — and they both feel some kind of way about it

the world watched (and the world smiled) by fangirl6202. M, 9.1k. "Oh,” Alex says finally, faintly, touching one hand to his lips. Then: “Shit.”

His mind catches up then, realizing that Henry is walking away and he doesn't even think twice. He begins to quite literally chase after him, trying to get to him before he can get away or, God forbid, try to fly back to England and ghost him.

Henry is very pointedly not looking at him, stuttering apology over apology until Alex has to quite literally throw himself in front of him to get him to stop. Alex doesn’t know what to do. But the answer is simple, isn’t it? So fucking simple.

He takes Prince Fucking Charming’s lapels into his hand and kisses him back.

Or; it's New Years, and Henry stays.

more than you could ever know by indomitablelove. T, 9.5k. He watches Alex’s bright smile as he talks to Bea and Leo, the way that Ellen and Catherine have their heads bent close together and how Nora is talking with Pez, Oscar and June. He feels something catch in his throat, something blooming in his chest with such strength that it threatens to burst its way out. He never, in a million years, thought he would have this.

this year i will fall by @rmd-writes. E, 9.8k. Henry has many regrets in his life, but leaving the ice rink after a literal run in with the potential love of his life without even obtaining his name may be his biggest. With his family visiting for the holidays for the first time and ever-present work deadlines looming, he's too busy to think about how to engineer his own happy ending worthy of the novels he edits.

But what if fate has other ideas?

Ye Merry Gentlemen by allmylovesatonce. M, 9.9k. Across three different years, at different points in their lives, Alex and Henry celebrate Christmas together.

On My Mind (Let's Go) by @sparklepocalypse. E, 10k. Pez blows into his hands and rubs them together to warm them. “Listen. Just… whatever happens in there, say yes, alright?”

“I don’t follow,” Henry says, his brow furrowing. “Say yes to what?”

“Whatever opportunity comes knocking,” Pez says breezily. “You forget, I’ve seen your messages. The booze is flowing tonight, and everyone’s got their best fit on – so opportunity will knock, and you will say yes.”

(A movieverse New Year's Eve fix-it that started as crack and turned into crack taken seriously. With dancing. And smut. Like... a lot of smut.)

Someone Special by bleedingballroomfloor. E, 10k. "That was Shaan," Henry explains as Alex snuggles closer to him, pressing his nose to his neck. "The blizzard hit early, apparently. Too risky to fly."

"So Christmas here?" Alex says in that sleepy drawl of his that Henry will never get tired of. "Fuckin' sweet."

Happy NY by @myheartalivewrites. E, 11k. “Hi,” he says, and Henry looks into his eyes, taking in the brown colour and little flecks of black and gold that give it depth; the tiny freckles dotted across his nose and cheekbones, only a shade or two darker than his deep bronze skin. “Uh, sorry about that,” the man says, but he doesn’t step out of Henry’s arms. Instead his eyebrows go up, and his expression changes, from one of embarrassment to something Henry thinks is surprise, and maybe, ever so hopefully, a little bit of interest.

would you wait for me? by smc_27. T, 11k. Henry Fox has made Alex nervous from the second they met.

Now it’s different. Now Alex has to try and find a shirt to wear to a party where he’ll inevitably see Henry for the first time in a year. For the first time since Alex’s heart was broken and he’d made what felt like the brave and smart decision and left.

Coming back might be a mistake.

Gonna Give You Something (So You Know What’s on My Mind) by @affectionatelyrs. E, 11k. Alex hums, turning around to pull open the freezer drawer. “You want anything?”

But Henry barely registers his question. Not when Alex is slightly bent over, allowing Henry a perfect view of his perfect ass. Each individual ridge of his spine is visible due to his lack of shirt. All of these things combined would normally be a large enough issue in itself to render Henry dumbstruck, except—

Except, that’s not the only thing that Henry’s faced with.

Right there, clear as day: blue lace, delicately peeking out from the waistband of his joggers. Henry’s hand immediately flies up to his cheek. The skin is hot to the touch, and he feels the imprint of where the material once lay like a brand.

Or, With the help of a white elephant gift, Henry learns that maybe the whole being-in-love-with-his-roommate thing isn’t as one-sided as he thought

Love and Hate at the Farmers' Market by myheartalive. T, 11k. Alex and Henry both work at a farmers' market and they hate each other, until suddenly— oops! They don't!

(Secret) Santa Baby by @indomitable-love. E, 11k. "When it comes to Secret Santa, Alex really does have a reputation to uphold. Everybody wants Alex to get them. Nobody actually wants to get Alex, which is why he usually ends up with novelty socks or a political biography, but he doesn’t care. Ultimately, everybody wants Alex to get their name. And right now, Alex is seconds away from finding out who his new mark is. The person that he’s going to spend the next few weeks learning inside and out to ensure that he gets them the perfect gift."

Alex gets his work nemesis, Henry, in the office Secret Santa and realises that he doesn't know nearly as much about him as he thought...

Trim my Christmas tree by @clottedcreamfudge. E, 12k. Henry is a writer, not a mall Santa, but unfortunately this year - thanks to his adorable and conniving nieces and their Aunt Beatrice - he's going to have to be both. This doesn't leave him a great deal of time to pine horribly over the part-time bookseller and Law student over at June Claremont-Diaz's shop, but somehow he manages to jam it in anyway.

Ho ho ho.

i'll be home for christmas by @dumbpeachjuice. M, 12k. He books a tiny cottage in a village called Little Snoring (not to be confused with the nearby Great Snoring) somewhere in Norfolk and tries to tell himself Christmas by himself in a foreign country is going to be an adventure from which he will have an adorable story to tell his friends and family, and not just totally depressing. At the very least he can take a cute picture of his snowy cottage and pretend he’s not totally fucking jealous of his entire family gathering in Austin without him.

If he ever fucking gets there, that is.

Or, Alex's first Christmas in the UK gets ruined by the British weather. A handsome stranger invites him to spend the holiday with his family instead.

The Holiday by @dracowillhearaboutthis. E, 13k. Henry is in no mood to attend his family's holiday gathering this year. So when June Claremont-Diaz asks him via a Home Swap website whether or not his house is free over the holidays, he jumps at the opportunity to escape the country and his family for the holidays.

He did not include Alex into the calculation - June's charming and gorgeous brother who suddenly appears at her doorstep.

Airplane Mode by clottedcreamfudge. E, 14k. Getting into an argument with someone in the airport lounge had probably been a mistake, in hindsight; Alex knows this. But with so many fucking delays and the fact that the signal on his phone is currently making it about as useful as two paper cups joined by a piece of string, he’s kind of on-edge. It’s not entirely his fault that he snaps.

Attractive people with perfect hair who take the last almond croissant before Alex can get to it probably just need to understand this. Alex is at the end of his tether, and he will not be swayed by, “Well, I was here first,” in a British accent so smooth it could butter bread.

Home for the Holidays by lucy_in_the_sky. E, 14k. “How would you feel about maybe spending Christmas in Texas with me and my family?” He bites his lip after popping the question.

Henry’s eyebrows shoot up. But before Alex can regret asking, a soft smile blossoms on his face.

“I want you there with me. I- I wanted you there this week, too-” Alex starts to ramble. “And, like, it’s totally ok if you want to go to England to be with your family, duh, but I’d love to show you Austin and introduce you to my family and teach you the Claremont-Diaz holiday traditions and kiss you on Christmas morning and-”

He’s cut off by the hard press of Henry’s lips against his own.

“Yeah?” Alex beams.

“Yes, love. Of course yes.”

Sweet Dreams of Holly and Ribbon by @villiageidiot. T, 14k. He falls asleep on the loveseat, Nora and June curled up on the couch across from him, as a terrible Hallmark Christmas film plays in the background. It’s the fourth night of sleeping alone—Henry taking care of some business back in the palace—and he’d rather wake up cold and cramped across from the two of them than alone in his own bed.

That’s how Alex falls asleep.

That is not how he wakes up.

A Fine Line by indomitablelove. E, 15k. Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Whatever is inescapable. In the worst way possible. He’s always fucking there. Alex turns up for his shift and Henry is there behind the coffee machine, apron tied around his waist and stupid, tight white T-shirt clinging to his biceps. Alex turns up for open-mic night at the cafe and there he is again, reading his fucking poetry. Alex goes to the grocery store, or the bookshop, or the fucking campus library, and who does he see? Henry. Always Henry.

Always Henry, always with a different guy.

Alex hates Henry. He's only letting Henry and his stupid long limbs and his overly symmetrical face stay on his couch because he has to, because 'tis the season not to be a massive dick, because it's Christmas. Isn't he? -also coffee shop/roommates

12 Days of Christmas with Alex and Henry series by @coffeecatsme. E, 16k. "It seems I've gotten myself in quite a tangle."

"Tangle?" Henry's voice is hoarse, eyes darkened as they travel over Alex's body. They stop at his crotch, and Alex can see it even under the dim lights—Henry's growing hard too, a visible bulge pushing at his sweatpants. Alex's cock gives a desperate twitch.

"Y'know, I was trying to put them around the tree," he starts, gesturing at the plain tree at the corner. It's clear he didn't even attempt to touch it. "And somehow I've managed to completely trap myself. Can't even move my hands." Henry makes a desperate noise at the back of his throat as his eyes snap up to Alex's face. Alex flashes him a suggestive grin, teeth biting down on his lip. "Seems I'm completely at your mercy."

(Dil)Do It Yourself by @happiness-of-the-pursuit. E, 16k. “Listen,” Nora starts, turning her body once more so that she’s sitting sideways in the chair with her legs thrown across the armrest. “I did the math. There’s a 79% chance you’re gonna become a slut to the power of the prostate, and while we’re not dating anymore, it’s my duty as your fellow slutty bisexual to get this party started.”

Or, when Nora drags Alex to a holiday dildo workshop, he doesn’t expect to find someone to use it with.

Spirit of the Season by @pridepages. M, 17k. Henry was dead to begin with. That much you must understand, or nothing that follows will seem strange or wondrous...

Alex Claremont-Diaz doesn't believe in ghosts. And he really hates Dickens.

But that's not going to stop a very unusual Christmas Spirit...

Henry Fox is on a mission. Once a year, he finds a soul in need of his help. (Too bad this one's such an utter berk.)

When two lost souls find each other on Christmas Eve, they may just find everything they never knew they wanted.

The Christmas Guest by @omgcmere. E, 17k. Alex is looking forward to a relaxing winter break catching up with his sister after her semester abroad, but June's gone and ruined everything by inviting her insufferable international student friend to stay with their family for a real American Christmas experience. Henry is irritatingly gorgeous with a completely obnoxious superiority complex, and Alex is prepared to hate every single second he's forced to spend in his presence. As Alex starts to get into the Christmas spirit, however, he finds that maybe there's more to Henry than meets the eye - and maybe, just maybe, this will actually be the best Christmas ever. - also college

Four Christmases by @hgejfmw-hgejhsf. E, 19k. From Washington to Austin, London to New York, Alex and Henry spend Christmas with different members of their families from 2020 - 2023. Funny couples' Christmas sweaters, festive swimsuits, statement-making ties, and family pajamas all bring lots of laughs, some tears, and a bit of fun to be had by all along the way.

A Year in the Life series by milowren. NR, 19k. Alex and Henry are coworkers, Henry has a crush, and they end up at a haunted corn maze together a few nights before Halloween. Shenanigans ensue! And - When Alex's flight home is canceled at the last minute, Henry invites him over for Thanksgiving - despite never having hosted an American Thanksgiving before.

and you would be there too by smc_27. M, 20k. It’s mostly dark out here, just the lamp poles in the parking lot casting a warm yellow glow across the packed snow.

“We’re closed.”

Henry spins around, heart racing, and sees the beautiful man from the café and from earlier at the shops. He cuts a stunning image, swinging one leg over the wooden fence rail and stepping into the parking lot as he pulls a red and black plaid shirt over his shoulders, his tan pants tight enough across his thighs to make Henry blush for noticing.

This Hell of a Season by Chamel. E, 21k. (Nova, Baby follow-up) “The first few years, it was a relief to get away from all the stupid family drama,” Alex says, blowing a long sigh. The hand that’s not holding Henry’s slides onto his stomach, a warm, comforting pressure. “Then I started to resent it. It hurt to be stuck out on a mission while everyone celebrated without me.”

“And now?”

A grin slips onto Alex’s face as he walks two fingers across Henry’s bare chest. “Now I have you.”

(Or, 3 times Alex & Henry spent Christmas on missions and 1 when they didn't; or, A Very Nova Christmas Special.

Love on the Menu by berrybluefae. M, 23k. Henry Fox has a side hustle at his job as a host in an upscale restaurant. He loves setting up romantic moments for guests who want a little something extra for their night out to dinner. A bouquet of flowers and a bottle of champagne for the couple celebrating their 50th anniversary? Easy. A special table with candles and a dessert with a surprise for the woman about to propose? Child’s play. But despite playing Cupid for the restaurant’s guests, Henry has never been on the receiving end of a grand romantic gesture. So imagine his surprised delight when anonymous gifts begin appearing just for him.

Who is Henry’s secret admirer? Only Valentine’s Day will tell.

You Make Every Day Feel Like It's Christmas by allmylovesatonce. T, 25k. Burned out on work, Alex goes to visit June who is on assignment in a sleepy Vermont town called Snow's Landing. June is determined for him to see where she's been living for the last six months and to love it as much as she does. The most intriguing part of it all is June's best friend there, a man named Henry, that Alex believed was a jerk at first but is starting to discover a new side of as they spend more time together.

Paper Chains by @myheartalivewrites. E, 25k.

DAY 751

(Alex)

Henry is… Well, if Alex is being honest, Henry is everything to him.

But it’s kinda hard to explain.

DAY 1

———

I have no idea how to summarise this one, folks. The best I can do is… Alex and Henry's journey from awkward beginning as colleagues, to best friends, to spending time apart and finally to finding each other again.

But it’s not as straightforward as that.

Every Day's a Holiday (When I'm Near to You) by bleedingballroomfloor. E, 29k. I know this is a long shot, but if anyone’s going to Texas/anywhere south for the holidays and is crazy enough to drive there instead of fly, I’m looking for a road trip buddy. We can split gas money and snacks if you pick good ones. DM me if you’re interested.

And Henry knows he's about the make the most idiotic decision he's ever made in his life.

Or, Henry impulsively tags along with Alex on a road trip to Texas with absolutely no plan. Surely this won't backfire.

in a holidaze by @tedddylupin. E, 49k. Alex didn't mean to spend his New Years Eve thrown together with a perfect stranger at an airport. He didn't mean to offer up to share his hotel room with a very attractive stranger. He also didn't mean to find the man insufferably perfect either.

Or: the one where Alex and Henry find each other during different holidays throughout a year's time.

When I think about you by @clottedcreamfudge. E, 50k. Dream sharing is absolutely not a thing, even though Alex would very much like it to be.

The magic of soulmates, however, means that someone you’ve never met – someone whose soul is tied to yours, in whatever way that manifests – can appear in your dreams, like an extra character who keeps popping up over and over again. They won’t be having the same dream as you, and you won’t actually meet, but whatever you remember from the dream can start to take shape in your waking hours; you can figure things out, bit by bit, dream by dream.

I only tag an author once per post, but I'm still figuring out firstprince author handles. If you see one I may not know or find a broken link, please give me a heads up!

Master List of RWRB FirstPrince Recs

Master List of Recommendations

#firstprince #rwrb fic recs #rwrb #alex x henry #red white & royal blue

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starcrossedxwriter · 1 year

Text

Oscars Night Part 2 (MBJ x Famous Black OC)

A/N: So we got Michael's Oscar win… here's Charlotte's! A little fluff and smut with our favs. This gif has nothing to do with the Oscars but he looks damn good so here we are… Enjoy!

Warning: Smut

“And here we have the insanely gorgeous star of the night, Mrs. Charlotte Elsbeth Jordan. Mrs. Jordan, how are you feeling?”

Charlotte slid her hand into Michael Strahan’s as he politely helped her step up onto the platform for her pre-show interview at the 90th Academy Awards. Her stylist had gone for full glam with her outfit, it was a bit more dramatic than she would usually go for but it hit the mark and clearly was a showstopper, which was exactly what Law believed she should be for the night. However, without her husband’s usual arm to steady her, she questioned how she even made it this far down the carpet by herself.

“I am doing amazing, thank you! So excited to be here.” She offered him and the camera a dazzling white smile, which expertly hid the massive waves of anxiety crashing over her.

Her eyes carefully examined the chaotic terrain of the red carpet and wondered silently how her peers sauntered down these red carpets with such ease and confidence. It was certainly not her first award show, it was not even her first time at the Oscars. It was, however, her first time as a nominee and she felt like a fawn testing out its wobbly new legs for the first time. Despite all the award shows and events she had gone to in her career, tonight felt as if she had ascended into a whole new level of terrifying. And it did not help that she had to make it through the evening without the one person who could keep her anxiety in check, the only person who knew the right words to pull her back from the edge of anxiety and doubt.

“Well, first, you look absolutely stunning. Tonight is a huge night for you as a first-time nominee. But it could also be a significant historic night for you and the film industry. You are only one of three women nominated for Best Song and Best Actress in the same year. And you could become the second Black woman to win best actress, and the youngest person to become an EGOT in history. How does that all feel? Are you excited?”

She let out a quick and light chuckle, “No pressure at all, right??” She paused and shrugged. “But honestly, I am trying to not think too much about all of that. I just… I just strive every day to do my best work and be the best vessel for other people’s stories that I can be. Naomi really was the embodiment of that for me. And given the reckoning that is happening across the country, but particularly in our industry over the last few years, I think Naomi’s story is too familiar for far too many people. And it has been great to see the conversations this film has started and how it really centers the journey of survivors. So I am just so proud and honored to be part of it. And while the recognition from my peers this season has been incredible, I am more happy about that. So I’m just looking forward to performing tonight and celebrating the best of the best in our industry. I try not to get too caught up in all the other stuff.”

Her role in the indie film, Bird Set Free, was timely and deeply personal for Charlotte due to her own struggles with abuse. The film tells the story of Naomi, an aspiring songwriter who is assaulted by her boss at her part-time job. The project, loosely based on the screenwriter’s own life, followed Naomi’s journey to recovery and shed real light on the harsh impacts of trauma on survivors. With this role, Charlotte had the rare opportunity to both play the main character and dust off her songwriting skills by contributing to many of the songs showcased throughout the film. As a survivor of abuse herself, Charlotte knew her performance tonight was her moment ensure her performance of “She Used to Be Mine” reflected her character’s and her own experience overcoming trauma. She had poured all that pain from her own journey into that ballad, creating one of her most emotional songs yet.

“That is amazing and we wish you all the best. Before you go, I do have to ask, you are missing the other Michael tonight. I know he is out promoting a little movie folks may not have heard of… just a billion dollar cultural phenomenon.”

Charlotte’s lips curled into a soft smile, her sadness still coloring the edges though she tried to hide it.

“Yes, Michael is promoting Black Panther with the rest of the cast overseas. I am sad my partner in crime isn’t with me but this is a historic moment for him and the entire cast so I couldn’t be prouder. And our marriage works because we both do what we love. So I know he is cheering me on.”

She had repeated that refrain over and over to herself for the last week since Michael revealed he would have to go out of the country to promote the film and would not make it back in time for the Oscars. Work was work and Marvel required a lot of the cast to promote this historic blockbuster. But she would not lie to herself and pretend it was not still disappointing. And while she knew she could not say this to the well-intentioned reporters interviewing her, deep down today only served as a reminder of the downside to being married to a fellow actor: neither of you could be as present as you wanted or should be.

“But,” she continued. “He sent a gorgeous bouquet of flowers and champagne for me and the team while I was getting ready. So if I can’t have him, champagne is a decent replacement.” Her light laughter was cut short by two strong hands wrapping around her waist and settling on her hips, her body pulled back into a familiar embrace.

“Hey honey bee…”

Charlotte whipped around, her legs almost giving out beneath her as she found her husband standing behind her. Her hands immediately ran over his arms as if she had to feel him to believe he was truly there and not a ghost. Tears sprang to her eyes as she drank him in, any and all words stolen right out of her throat.

“W-what…. H-how?” She mumbled as he pulled her into a kiss, her interview long forgotten. The kiss was brief but she felt it, all of his whispers to relax, urges to breathe, and desires for her to enjoy her moment.

Just a moment in his arms made Charlotte feel more at peace than she had been since she woke up this morning. She pulled back from their embrace to study him, her brain still refusing to believe he was really with her and not across the world. She could not stop the wave of lust that hit her as she took in his tux. It baffled her how he always managed to look so damn good.

“Where there’s a will…” he shrugged, smiling down at her and offering her a sly wink. She dabbed her eyes to stop the tears from falling, knowing she would never hear the end of it from her team if she ruined her makeup before the show even started.

“That is just beautiful. Safe to say you are surprised?”

“Yes, 100%! He called me earlier, pretending he was in a whole different time zone,” her tone playfully accusatory as she poked his side. “Usually, I’m pretty hard to get a surprise over on but he definitely got me this time.”

Michael leaned over and offered a quick peck on her nose, Charlotte’s face scrunching up as she blushed.

“You two are definitely going to be relationship goals by the end of the show. Michael, it’s always great to see you and best of luck, Charlotte.”

Given they had not seen much of each other in the last two months since Charlotte was doing Oscar’s press and Michael was promoting the film, the pair found it difficult to keep their hands off each other as they finished the rest of the carpet. With Michael’s calming presence by her side, Charlotte did not desire to rush through the carpet as she normally did. Instead, she savored the moment, posing and grinning and joking with Michael as photographers took their pictures.

Charlotte found it hard not to simply stare at Michael the entire time though. Words could not describe how elated she was to have him there. She could not explain it but the outcome of the evening mattered significantly less to her now that he was by her side. Charlotte was never one to fuss over awards. The only one she had ever truly cared about winning was her Tony. After all, she had risked everything for that shot, a 20% chance at an award she dreamed about since she was old enough to have ambitions.

She wanted the others, aimed for that status of EGOT. But she was young and knew it could take decades to do so. She wanted it, but she also knew this would not be her only chance if it did not work out. That was the reality she chose to remain grounded in. But whatever the outcome, she knew Michael would help her enjoy the night and not obsess over what was to come.

She barely had time to enjoy the first half hour of the show or Michael before she was whisked away from her front row seat to prepare for her performance. This was the only portion of the evening that did not make her nervous. Charlotte’s acting chops were only outdone by her own singing talent. Though she never wanted to a full-time singer, she always gravitated toward roles that allowed her to also sing, which is why musicals were perfect for her. It was as thoughtless as walking or breathing for her to sit at a piano and sing. She just let the words and music consume her, and the audience just melted away like ice on summer day. She could do that in her sleep.

She took one last deep breath before the curtain opened and the spotlight came down on her. She blocked out everyone and everything as she listened to the opening refrain of the song and began to sing. There were no frills or hooks in her performance tonight. It was simply her and an orchestra of all women of color behind her as she sung her heart out. She still remembered the day she wrote this song. She poured out all of the grief and regret she once felt for the pieces of her that died after her ex, the pieces she, at the time, believe she could never get back. She recalled that hopelessness as if it was still part of her, still had its claws so deeply rooted in her soul. She was no longer that woman, but that was who Naomi was when she wrote it and that song represented her and Naomi and countless survivors at their lowest points, when the road to recovery seemed too dark, when all you could do was drown in the regret of the person you weren’t in anymore. It was them at their most vulnerable and Charlotte, ever a performer, showed that with every note.

It was not until the final note played that she came back to reality, her mind unable to ignore the standing ovation and cheers that rung out around her. Her eyes immediately fell to Michael though, whose cheers could be heard above the rest. He gave her a discrete thumbs up and mouthed, “I love you,” as the show went to commercial break and the lights went down.

Like a well-oiled machine, she had no time to rest before she was ushered backstage and back around to her seat before the commercial break ended. She hated that her categories were among the last of the evening. She enjoyed the Oscars but sitting and waiting all night was not her idea of fun. And though it was great to see friends and people she admired win throughout the night, she could not deny that it felt as if she was dragging toward the end of the show.

She rolled her neck and straightened up in her seat as John Legend walked up to the microphone and launched into his scripted speech. His words sounded muffled in her ears as she sat there, unable to register anything. She was sure whatever his spiel was about the importance of music in film was true but now that her category was mere moments away, all the anxiety she had pushed off was crashing over her like a tsunami.

Her mind only checked back into reality when she heard the announcer read her name and heard a few bars from her song in the movie. She instinctively sat up and put a smile on her face, knowing the camera would be on her from that moment forward, win or lose. Her hand sat in Michael’s lap as he held her hand, his thumb rubbing soothing circles in the inside of her wrist, his nonverbal cue to relax. His grip was tight but not unwelcome as she waited to hear if she would make history.

“And the Oscar for Best Song goes to…” Charlotte closed her eyes as she waited with bated breath, the seconds inching by as John opened that damn envelope. “Charlotte Elsbeth Jordan, She Used to Be Mine.”

Charlotte’s face immediately fell into her hands as she heard her name, her shock paralyzing her in her seat. Everyone around her jumped up with loud applause, cheers and whistles filling her ears. It was not until Michael discreetly tugged on her arm that she broke out of her trance and stood up. She hugged him tightly and kissed him before making her way to the stage.

After her quick obligatory hug to John as he handed her the statue, she stood in front of the mic and waited for a moment until the cheers died down. She examined the card in her hand, reading it for a moment.

“Wow… I am honestly just in shock. Literally just wanted to read it to make sure it really said my name,” she chuckled, a few cheers and laughter breaking out as she paused, her brain moving too slow to remember her speech.

“T-this… this is an amazing honor.” Her voice broke slightly as she continued, the weight of this moment starting to truly hit her as she spoke.“T-thank you to the Academy, it is a true honor to be recognized by one’s peers. U-Um, thank you to the entire team that worked on this song with me. It was a blessing and honor to tell this story with you. Thank you to Christina, our amazing screenwriter, for trusting us with this story, for trusting me with your story. I… I can’t think straight and left my notes at my seat so I am saying honor a lot, which is weird,” Charlotte rambled. “And now I’m rambling, everyone who knows me knows how on brand this is. So I will just say apologies to anyone I forgot. But thank you all so much. No song is created alone and I owe this to all of you for pouring your souls into this piece of art.”

“Lastly, to my dad and siblings and my friends, thank you for listening and enduring all the terrible songs I wrote when I was 10. Your unwavering support of my love for music got me here. And to my husband, thank you for all your love and dedication to me and to supporting my dreams. I love you so much. Thank you!”

She lifted the Oscars in the air slightly and smiled before turning to walk off stage. As she passed folks backstage, everyone offered her hugs and congratulations. However, Charlotte barely registered any of it, she just let the PAs guide her where she needed to go to be back in her seat for Best Actress. She still could not believe that had truly happened. Part of her was still waiting for someone to find her and tell her it was a mistake and rip it out of her hands. She was officially an EGOT, something she had always wanted but felt so far out of reach. And it was finally hers.

“See, I told you,” Michael whispered as she settled back into her seat. He brought her hand to his lips, kissing the that held her wedding band. “That’s why I’m always right.

“How could I not know that by now??” She whispered as she leaned over to kiss him on the lips. And he was not wrong, Michael said every day since she was nominated that she would walk away with at least one Oscar tonight. She just had not believed him.

“That’s what I’ve been sayin’ this whole time,” he joked. “An EGOT… man, I’m so proud of you, baby.”

They shared another deep kiss before the lights flickered, signaling that the commercial was over and the cameras were about to roll again. Charlotte’s stomach did backflips as she watched Mahershala Ali walk up to the mic. This was the award that would truly determine how she felt about this historic night. Of the two awards she was nominated for, this was the one that held more weight to her. She was proud to win Best Song, but Charlotte was the most critical of her acting. It was the craft she had to go to school for, study, and train to be her best at. She never believed she was a strong actor. And though she would not be all that disappointed if she lost, she knew it would be the affirmation she needed to finally cast all doubt aside.

“These five women gave us performances that blew us away. From a spunky young teen to a survivor trying to rebuild her life, these performances made us laugh, made us cry, and made us question our world. These are the nominees for Best Actress.”

Charlotte watched the reel closely, her heart filling with pride as she watched snippets from some of her own personal favorite performances from the year. This was a tough category, and Charlotte knew she would be happy to see every single woman walk away with it. She wanted it, but at least she knew it would go to someone truly deserving if she lost. Michael’s grip was now on her thigh through the slit in her dress and almost painful as she, once again, straightened up for the camera.

“And the Oscar goes to… Charlotte Elsbeth Jordan, Bird Set Free.”

She shook her head in disbelief but she stood up quicker this time, tears already streaming down her face. She repeated the same path toward the stage after hugging and kissing her husband.

“Wow ok, being up here a second time is kinda perfect so I can say everything I forgot the first time.” She paused as the crowd applause renewed. “U-um ok, thank you once again to the Academy. First, I want to say what a blessing it is to be even included among this insanely talented group of nominees. I want to thank the entire cast, crew, production team of this movie. I was so insanely proud to come to work each day and bring this story to life. And proud to wake up daily and portray the story of Naomi, a story that is too familiar to myself and many of us in this room and many of you watching tonight: the story of a survivor who took their power back and decided to thrive. Our world and our industry has a ways to go but I want every survivor here and watching to know that I see you, I love you, and this is for you.” She paused as the crowd applauded her.

“Lastly, I want to thank my husband, Michael. Your…” she looked up at the ceiling for a moment as she tried to stop tears from falling. “Your love for me is unlike anything I have ever known and there isn’t enough time or enough words to adequately express how grateful I am to walk this Earth each day with you by my side and spend those days loving you and being loved by you. There has never been a dream that you have not encouraged me to chase and never been a door that you haven’t helped me push open when I doubted whether I could do it myself. I would not be here tonight if it weren’t for your unwavering belief in me. Thank you for being you and for always encouraging me to be my fullest and most authentic self. I love you to the moon and back over and over and over again.” She blew him a kiss before smiling and offering a last broad thank you to the entire crowd before turning to exit the stage.

From there, the night felt like a blur of congratulations, interviews, and parties. She endured all of them, the chaos and frenzy of every event, though she really just wanted to retreat to her hotel room with her husband.

Finally, on their drive to the third after party, Charlotte said, “How committed are you to going to this party?”

Michael raised his eyebrow and chuckled, “Tapping out already, old lady?”

She rolled her eyes, “Shut uppppp. Seriously, you wanna just head back to the hotel?”

Michael merely shrugged. “Not up to me, baby girl. It’s your night, Oscar winners get whatever they want for at least a week. So you��re callin’ the shots. So what do you want?”

She tilted her head as she studied him for a moment, the lust she felt earlier in the night returning with full force now.

She slid across the limo to sit by him, her legs straddling his hips. It was a bit dangerous in a moving car but she did not care. She leaned in and kissed him softly, before moving down to his neck. She sucked softly on his sensitive spot, smirking as a moan escaped his lips.

“You know what I want, baby,” she whispered in his ear, his hands immediately going to grip her ass.

“Aye, brah!” Michael called out to the driver.

“Yes, sir?”

“Take us back to the hotel. I’ll triple your tip if you get there within 10 minutes.”

Charlotte laughed as they continued making out like two horny 20 year olds. Charlotte willed Michael to fill her right then and there, but he refused, deciding they could wait until they got to their suite. By the time they reached their hotel, in record time thanks to their motivated driver, Charlotte’s need was so overwhelming she felt as if she might die if he did not touch her.

The moment their suite door slammed suit, the pair were all over each other. They made quick work of removing Charlotte’s dress as they kissed hungrily, Michael pushing her body against the wall of the hotel room as he kissed every inch of skin he could find.

Charlotte let out a small yelp as Michael hoisted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. He threw her down, immediately hooking his fingers on the small fabric of her thong and sliding it down. Michael placed a trail of soft gentle kisses slowly down her body, starting at her neck and working his way down to her soft stomach. He took special care with her breasts, his mouth engulfing her nipple as he sucked lightly. Her groans of pleasure filled his ears and spurred him on as he switched sides, ensuring he gave each equal treatment. He knew Charlotte loved nipple play and he knew exactly which buttons to press to turn her into a blubbering mess in his hands.

By the time Michael reached her lower stomach, Charlotte was panting, her pleads for more were on the tip of her lips, her pussy aching to be touched.

“B-baby, please,” she begged.

“Let me take care of you, honey bee,” he whispered, placing a kiss and softly biting her inner thigh.

“You know how much I love you, Els? How fuckin’ perfect you are?” He asked as he alternated between soft kisses and gentle bites that drove Charlotte wild. Each kiss got closer and closer to Charlotte’s aching core but not close enough.

His hands pushed her legs open, her flower already dripping wet for him. He licked his lips as he prepared for his favorite meal.

He immediately dove between her legs, his tongue caressing her sensitive bud and causing her back to arch off the bed.

“F-Fuck! J-just like that, baby,” she moaned as a deep shudder of pleasure racked through her body.

Charlotte’s hands gripped the comforter as he pushed her up a mountain of pleasure. The things Michael could do with his mouth were otherworldly. Charlotte quite literally often saw stars. He knew everything there was to know about Charlotte and her body. He did not have a college degree but he had a ph.D in his honey bee. So every time he was between her legs, he made sure she was more than well taken care of, often taking her body and pleasure to new heights she could not even fathom.

As he inserted two fingers inside her, Charlotte knew it would be one of those marathon, new heights type of evenings. Her moans and screams created a symphony throughout their hotel suite as Michael spelled out his love for her with every kiss, lick, and touch.

Feeling how close she was to her peak, Michael increased his speed, curling his two fingers into her G-spot.

Charlotte let out a breathless scream as Michael sent her over the edge. Her words were incoherent as waves of pleasure pulled her deeper and deeper under the surface.

He gave her no time to recover as he continued pumping his fingers in and out of her at a relentless pace as he emerged from between her legs. He roughly pressed his lips to hers, allowing Charlotte to taste herself on his lips.

“Just like honey,” he whispered, causing her to smile as he recalled something he said to her the first time they had sex, the genesis of his second favorite nickname for her.

She whimpered against his lips as the pleasure became overwhelming.

“I-It’s too much, B-Bakari,” she moaned as she felt her orgasm building again too fast and too soon.

“Take it, baby. I know you can,” Bakari whispered in her ear, his deep voice causing Charlotte to acquiesce to his will immediately. She would do whatever he asked of her, ride the waves of whatever pleasure he was willing to give her. “You got one more, baby girl. I know you do.”

Bakari smirked as her eyes rolled back into her head, her mouth falling open with every moan. They had been together for years and the sight of her cumming never got old to him. She looked perfect, wild and uninhibited.

It did not take long for his expert ministrations to send her tumbling down yet another earth-shattering orgasm.

Her vision went white as she came on his hand, Michael whispering sweet nothings to her.

“Good girl. That’s right, cum for me, baby.”

He finally removed his hands from inside her, watching her come back to reality.

“You’re…a… fuckin’ menace…” she whispered after a few minutes of silence, causing Michael to chuckle. “I can’t feel my damn legs.”

“You said you wanted me, baby girl. So I’m giving you all of me. And there’s still a lot left.”

He gently slapped her thigh, spurring her to push herself up on her forearms.

“Hey,” she grabbed his arm and pulled him in for a soft kiss. The entire evening had been frenzied and chaotic. She just wanted one moment that was slow and intimate, a true moment of quiet between the pair of them before the night was over. “Thank you, Bakari. Tonight was perfect. I don’t des-”

He stopped her and captured her lips with another kiss before saying, “Aye, none of that today. You deserved every moment of it and more. I’ll never let you forget that. Now lay back down so I can keep showing you how I proud I am of you, aight?”

She laughed and laid back on the soft comforter and nodded. “I’m all yours baby.”

Tag list: @certifiedlesbianbaddie @reelwriter19 @bangtanxmegan @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @msniaimani @hi888888sworld @destinio1 @lynaye1993

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AN: Bird Set Free is a fake movie, of course lol but She Used to Be Mine is a real song if folks were wondering - from the musical Waitress. I’m obsessed with it.

#black writers #michael b jordan #michael b jordan x oc #mbjordanedit #michael b jordan x reader #creed 3 #black panther #adonis creed #michael b jordan fanfic #creed iii #michael b jordan smut

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