#i love the perfect thick idiot son

[metranart]

My one and only wants you, so he’ll have you (Part 1)

ft. Sensei! Gojo Satoru, sensei! Suguru Geto, reader insert.

Gojo Satoru and Suguru Geto happily married, you, their lovely student and the cause of their ragging temptation. The problem: their son, Megumi, your best friend.

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𖦹 Warning tags: Gojo x Reader x Geto, threesome, married couple, Suguru and Gojo happy married couple, polyamory, Teacher-Student Relationship, Under-Desk Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, oral sex, vaginal sex, breeding, obsessive behavior, horny sorcerers, idiots in love, being the willing pet of your senseis, best friend! Megumi, Jealous! Megumi, anal plug, Secret Relationship, Domestic Fluff, falling in love, Pregnancy Kink, Hurt/Comfort, smut, rough sex, shameless smut, creampie, explicit sexual consent, sexual tension, shameless flirting, scratching.

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The yearning for him began the same day you were assigned under the tutelage of Satoru Gojo. You were just a teenager who innocently sat on her sensei’s lap when got the chance, you accepted the treats he shared with you, and you worshiped every word that came out of his mouth as if it were the pure gold.

You would never admit it out loud, but you had a huge, annoying crush on your sensei.

"-He's married you know?" Megumi said, his gaze lost at a point on the horizon, his tone hiding a feeling which you didn't recognize at the time.

"I do not know what you are talking about, Megumi-kun."

"Suguru-sensei is his husband, and he’s the jealous type." Megumi continued as if he hadn't heard you, still looking ahead. Your heavy sigh the only indicator that you acknowledged his words.

"I know they're both your parents-"

"No." This time his chaotic blue eyes did fall on you. "They're my guardians, that's all."

You nodded and let the topic go. Megumi always got uncomfortable when someone mentioned it, especially when you did. You didn't really understand, you would love to have Satoru and Suguru's attention all to yourself. Megumi was so lucky.

You still remember the exact day it happened, it was your last year at jujutsu high and you were about to become a first-grade sorcerer. Although you were already eighteen years old, you were still under Gojo's tutelage and care.

Guardianship which just at that moment you stepped on a whim. Maybe Satoru never expected you to dare, but you never expected him to encourage you to continue.

".... Ngh! Don’t stop, sweet girl." His purr almost got stuck in his dry throat, but you still heard him and obeyed him.

Riding that hard, erect cock still trapped behind the black fabric of his pants, while your warm asscheeks hugged it and pumped it in eager sways that started as an accident but were now deliberately obscene.

As was your custom, he allowed you to sit on his lap, as he had always done, but an accidental movement of your hips, a slippery moan from his tight lips, and the notorious wetness of your panties was the perfect combination to let himself go.

"You are treating sensei so good," he groaned, both big, strong hands guiding and smashing your hips harder against his bulge. "Sensei needs-" he choked, feeling the glorious shape of your pussy around him, "sensei needs to-"

"I know." You indeed knew, and even if this little slip on his part would become the only time you had him for your own, you’ll make it legendary. This magnificent man was going to come hard for you.

It didn't take you long to make his cock pulsate and spasm out those thick ropes of bittersweet cream inside his pants, the burst came with a euphoric scream, rich in curses and praises. You knew you had overstayed your welcome already, and being bold for a moment longer, you turned around, hunting for a just another souvenir to help you endure the cold nights on your own. Slowly leaning closer you placed a soft, warm kiss on his panting lips, just a taste for the rode. Your sensei's eyes lit up like a neon sign, full of surprise and shock.

"It's a shame that Suguru-san is so jealous." You complained goodheartedly, stealing another peck from those bright and delicious heaving lips, and got up with as much elegance as you could while having your panties glued to your wet cunt, fixed your skirt and left.

Months of silent familiarity and odd pretention passed before Gojo summoned you to his office after school. You expected a scolding, an expulsion, maybe that he was disappointed and alarmed by your slutty behavior, or at least embarrassed but what you didn’t expect what came out of his lips.

“Love is a curse,” he explained, a leg crossed in front of the other in the most carefree attitude, “…and I exorcise curses.” Those icy, blue eyes set firmly on yours. “Would you like sensei to exorcise your curse, (Y/N)?”

Your lower lip found its way to your teeth, being chewed while you nervously thought of an answer, you weren't sure what he meant and you were afraid to ask, you didn't want him to continue seeing you as a naive girl, as his student, his responsibility... so pretending you understood, you nodded.

"Are you sure?"

He asked, making sure you understood what he demanded. A white eyebrow rose on his forehead and when his lips were about to part to explain better as he usually did, you stopped him.

"I'm sure."

Gojo kept quiet for a moment, sighed a conspiratorial chuckle that almost seemed mischievous, and smiled up at you.

"If you are sure,” he stressed, “…. then come and kneel in front of your sensei, pet."

-

The first time Suguru Geto saw you, you were on your knees, your mouth full of his husband… actually, to the brim with his husband’s fat cock, taking it deep in your trained throat, hiding at plain sight behind a school desk while being nested between Satoru Gojo’s spread, thick thighs as he fed you heaps of his prodigy milk -as he liked to call it.

If you could barely breathe then now you are actually choking, the shock of being discovered was making your heart beat violently against your ribcage.

Satoru raised his eyes, meeting his husband’s gaze directly, watching him lean calmly against the frame and leave the door wide open, as if he wanted someone besides him to see you as well, even though it was almost six in the afternoon and the classes were over.

“-My love, I told you not to wait up for me, I was going to be late.” Satoru Gojo purred easily to his one and only, making him grin back at him.

“Oh, I see you're working after hours again," Suguru mocked from his spot on the door.

Satoru Gojo endearingly ran his hand over your flushed face, your embarrassed, confused and shocked expression extremely ridiculous compared to your stretched, swollen lips around his girthy cock, pushing your head against his pubic hair even harder, as if he were reluctant to let go even when you were caught, but Suguru shook his head, indicating that everything was fine.

Satoru closed peeked down at you, and a mischievous smirk graced his playful features.

“I don't know who told you that Suguru was jealous,” he wondered out loud holding your confused stare, “are you jealous, baby?”

Suguru Geto shrugged his broad shoulders equally playful. “Only if you don't share.”

You choked on the meat nested inside your throat and pulling you out for you to gulp some air, you coughed a little, droll and precum sliding down your chin when suddenly Gojo pushed you back to him, helping you suck him awkwardly. Using your mouth as his cocksleeve until he felt himself getting close to his price.

“Is my dutiful husband close to cream this lovely sorceress esophagus in thick milk?”

Satoru smirked, chucking lowly while still ramming your face to meet his pubic bone over and over again, and once felt he was close opened his eyes to watch as Suguru crossed his arms calmly, waiting for you to probe your worth.

“Don’t let it spill, (Y/N).” Suguru- sensei commanded, “In my family, wasting food is a sin.”

Suguru Geto teased with a wide grin but didn't move from his spot until after Satoru finished with a blast, until your face was covered in his husband’s musky cum since you couldn’t swallow such a massive load. The panting of your damaged voice was nothing more than clear evidence of a well-fucked throat. Satoru watched Suguru close the door behind him, latch it, step closer to the two of you and lean down to shamelessly, place a gentle kiss on your sweaty temple as you struggled to get your breathing even.

“You said her throat was like a fleshlight,” Suguru said to his panting husband, “and that she could swallow gallons without spill.”

“Having you here made my load heavier than usual,” Satoru defended, passing a hand through his disheveled mop of hair, “wasn’t my star student’s fault.”

Was your supposed secret affair with your sensei a regular topic for them? Isn't Suguru Geto angry with you? You couldn't look at his face, not even after he kissed your forehead so confusedly sweet, it was all too confusing... should you leave, apologize and leave? maybe it was the best...

“(Y/N),” Satoru said then, pulling out of your thoughts and lifting your chin up so he could get a good look at your pretty, flushed face, a wicked smirk spreading across his handsome face as his lips spelled. “Could you do sensei a favor?”

“A favor…?” you asked between ragged breaths, and he curled those shiny lips amused, Suguru Geto openly chuckled at your pathetic stamina. No doubt the metaphorical leash that Satoru was putting around your neck was still a work in progress, a good, faithful pet would have said yes immediately.

Your face was red, feverish, the blush extending to the edges of your eyes and also your ears. You were focused on the white-haired man you call sensei, desperate to know what he was going to ask of you, even when you wanted to, you couldn’t deny the exciting stirring inside your tummy that his mischievous requests always brought. He, being the only man in your eighteen-year-old existence to make your loins knot with something wild and feral.

You waited, cocking your head to the side, and Satoru grinned again, dragging his thumb over the bridge of your nose, collecting the white gobs of his own cum on the pads and putting it into his mouth, still warm and incredibly wet, eagerly closing around his thumb almost immediately, to then moan hoarsely.

“(Y/N),” he repeated after having tasted himself mix with your sweat. Satoru’s calm breathing against your sweaty forehead tickled you. He ran his thumb again but this time across your cheek, playing with his own mess, his intense blue eyes steady on your eyes, watching and recording inside his mind how you reacted to his perverted way of cleaning you, and the tremor that ran through your body looked almost like a convulsion, forcing you to fall over your calves tiredly. Satoru chuckled at the pleasant power play, proud of having so much effect over you, and without hesitation, ended up his request.

"I want you to sit on my husband’s cock and warm him up for a while, okay?"

You knacked and lay there over your calves, immobile.

"Do you need time to get hard again, Satoru?" Suguru scoffed, plainly ignoring your statue-like posture in order to kiss your sweaty face again, this time your cleaned cheek.

Satoru laughed, cocking his head in his direction, the blue of his eyes always more surprisingly bright and clear up close than it was from afar.

“I just thought you'd like to fuck her.”

“Am I so transparent?” that raven-haired hunk wondered with a thin brow raised.

“To me you are, baby.” His husband hurried to brag.

They both continued talking as if you weren't there or as if you were there, but it didn't matter that you heard them, given your lack of words. Suguru squatted next to you, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before asking.

“You don’t find me attractive, (Y/N)?”

Your cheeks burned like the sunset that filtered through the window, your mouth dry and lack of answers.

"As I said before, I don't mind if I'm also part of it..." he explained to you, "...I'm a special grade sorcerer after all, between the two of us we can destroy your curse better," he offered, his harsh and long fingers sliding sinfully across the soft skin of your neck.

"Suguru-san...." you mewled at his cynic touch. Being watched with morbid attention by the white-haired.

"How many times have I saved you on missions, how many times have I caught you watching me when you think I'm distracted..." your pupils dilated at the revelation, "how many times haven't I masturbated using your school photo?"

Your head whipped around to face him, astonished as he merely smirked.

"Oh, yes. I have, so many times," he admitted without shame, "...so, would you let me help you as well?"

Your breathing was a mess, when he had gotten so close? His face was centimeters away, you just needed to lean in, and his lips would be tattooed on yours.

"Don't think about it so much dearest, just do it." Your current sensei's breath caressed your ear out of the sudden and his hands on your shoulders gave you the last push you needed.

Your lips merged with Suguru Geto's in a heated kiss, his kisses were different, more patient, better thought out, his tongue licked your lips, and you opened your mouth to let him explore at his leisure, each moan torn from your tired throat sounded each time more needed.

"So that's a, yes?" Satoru asked and between kisses, you said as best you could. "Y-Yes, yes, yes, yes, yeees...."

Something inside you flared and tumbled while accepting their sinful proposition, of becoming Suguru Geto's cocksleeve as well. You nodded your head manically, embarrassingly eager, as if it were the only thing you could do, too stupid and desperate on your own excitement to think coherently.

“Our favorite student, ain’t that right, Sugu?”

The white-haired prodigy praised before standing up and abruptly breaking the kiss to take you with him, pulling you by the arm to get you up, your shaking legs almost letting you fall again when Satoru decided to eat your mouth instead.

You could easily hear Suguru Geto growl low as he huskily replied. “Damn right.”

This glorious man and his husband fucked you there, on the desk of the classroom, taking turns between your ass, your pussy, and your mouth until they were both sure their cocks would fall off. Until your holes weren't squeezing at all and none of the three were sure who the cum leaking out of you belonged to, your voice so worn out that anyone would realize how well your throat had been fucked.

By then it was so late that when you mumbled a weak. "I don't think I can walk," Satoru was quick to offer you a ride and Suguru eagerly agreed, saying things like: we need to take care of our girl, she’s so precious to us. Your beautiful eyes and reddened face littered with patches of cum, lighting up like an advertisement the moment both freely offered you their whole attention as you always dreamed for.

Satoru gently put you on his back, carrying you to the parking lot and then dumping you playfully unceremonious in the back seat, kissing you the entire time while Suguru drove to the address you told him, explaining it between gasps, moaning the words as if your ex-sensei were tearing them out of you one by one.

“Right-…no, I mean left-…” Your adorable, moaned babbling driving both males euphoric.

“Give her a sec, babe-… I need to know if turn right or left-”

“Right.” Satoru replied with such conviction both, you and Suguru’s eyebrows rose questioningly. “I know her address by heart-… after all, she still a pup under my watch.”

Satoru Gojo revealed to your utter annoyance and his husband’s amusement. A thin smirk gracing the raven-haired lip’s indicating he wasn’t even a little surprised.

“I’m not a pup anymore,” you complained between smooches, “I'm about to turn nineteen and become a first-grade sorceress…. I'm a full-fledged adult-”

“Na-ah!” your sensei chuckled, “you’re a brat, still my pup-”

“Our pup.” Suguru cut in from the driver’s seat, and Satoru agreed, “Right.”

"We'll come pick you up at 7 tomorrow," your sensei half ordered, half commented between heated kisses, his greedy lips devouring every patch of skin that his husband hadn't gifted with saliva and bites. "ya heard me, pup?" He stressed snickering, and you remained silent.

"-I'm no longer a little girl you can spoil without anyone suspecting, Gojo-san."

"Gojo-sensei," Satoru clarified, "you have to call me Gojo-sensei, pup."

You shook your head at his notorious control tricks, and slowly crept down from under him until you could open the car door.

"Thank you for the ride, Suguru-san."

Your body lurched to leave the safety of the car when three strong hands held you, two wrapping tightly around your waist and one around your forearm.

Satoru and Suguru teaming up to not let you go made you feel equally flattered as flustered.

"Tomorrow at seven, now we pick you up.” Gojo repeated more seriously and looking in the rearview mirror at Suguru's for some kind of support, his stern gaze forced you to nod.

"Right ...see you tomorrow-" you made a meaningful pause just to prolong their sole attention on you a little longer and aiming for one last playful punch under the belt, you dropped the bomb, "-Senseis."

Their blood boiled like water boils in a gazer before exploding.

"Don't let her go, Satoru." You heard Suguru say before his hand let go of your forearm and in one swift movement, he got out of the car to join you in the back seat.

Too late you realized your mistake.

Your pussy almost screamed when Suguru tried to slip inside. “Too sensitive, pup?”

You nodded weakly and he sighed, showing a little mercy.

“Good thing our girl is gifted with more than one tight hole.” Satoru reminded him, and his husband smirked, smugly.

“Good thing.” He replied before his thick cock stretched your asshole impossibly wide, your hands were held under his big paws against the back of the seat, Satoru slid to the side to have a better view. He loved when his husband got like this. You wanted to act and tease like an adult, they would fuck you like one.

Suguru's violent thrusts were taking the wind out of you with each meeting of flesh, your ass almost raw from so much pounding, your bundle of nerves being stalked with delicious and lazy circular movements by your actual sensei and this man’s husband.

"He’s gonna fill this disobedient student in cum, and this disobedient student is going to eagerly keep it inside, yes?" Satoru ordered and you could only meow inconsolably.

Each thrust of Suguru's hips was harder, more precise, deeper, more meat that you could take filling your pitiful quivering hole. You were close to fainting, your eyes half-closed and breathing labored, dehydrated from sweating so much, tired from squeezing yourself around such a large and long piece of raw cock.

"Su-Suguru-san..."

"Suguru sensei." Satoru corrected.

"Suguru-sensei,” you obeyed.

“Very good,” Gojo praised.

 “P-Please come-come… already, ple-please."

Suguru's dark laugh broke through the peaceful night, too amused in teaching you a lesson.

"I'll come only if you promise, you'll put on this lovely plug all night long." From thin air Suguru appeared a pink plug in his sweaty palm, a pretty, shiny thing with a pink diamond adorning the base.

"A plug-.... why?"

"So that, my one and only’s cum stays inside you till morning, of course." It was difficult to hear your sensei over the lewd sound of clapping flesh. “We will take it out tomorrow when we pick you up, pup.”

You couldn't take it anymore, you wanted Suguru sensei to come right away since you couldn’t do it anymore, you were drained, pleasantly exhausted and tired. You wanted to rest, sleep soundly…no! You wanted faint till the sun raised again.

"Y-Yes, I will, I promise!" you heard yourself yelp.

"Good pet." Suguru rasped. He almost sounded elated, but it didn't stop him from shoving himself completely inside of you, over and over and over again, slamming against your gummy walls in one last savage thrust. The breath was knocked out of you and there was when you felt him overflowing you in his warm, thick cum.

"That's it, baby, fill her tummy good, so much milk, so yummy." Satoru encouraged with perverted pride. "So full." The white-haired noted when his palm met the bump in your belly.

Suguru chuckled through his moans, massaging your hips with his thumbs while giving a couple of lazy thrusts before finally slip out. the spasming ring of your ass was a fucking mess, swollen and shiny and brimming in cum. Fuck! they loved the sight.

“Don’t let it slip out-” Suguru rushed to say.

“Go it.” Satoru hurried to plug in the device, your pretty asshole now prettier with a diamond adorning it.

"Just like I've dreamed you for more than three years, (Y/N)." Suddenly Satoru revealed, praising you like an excited child, and Suguru grinned approvingly, passing a thick thumb over the diamond making you jolt a little at how sensitive you were. “Three years is a lot to be blue balled, you really made us wait a lot, pretty girl.” He joined his husband, dreamily.

Maybe you weren’t hearing correctly. No, it couldn't be that they also wanted you as much as you wanted them. It was a mistake, you were really tired and exhausted, that's what.

Hand in hand, they peppered your face in sweet kisses teaming up against you again until there was a big smile on your sweaty face.

“Tomorrow at seven o clock, sharp, (Y/N). Don’t make us wait.”

They didn’t leave until you entered through the doorframe and the door close behind you. The inside of their car reek of spit and sex and cum, and Satoru buried his face in the backseat to breathe in the remaining of your essence and his husband.

“I’m so damn happy, Sugu.” He beamed hugging the backseat like an obsessed lovebird.

Suguru laughed at his antics. “Same.” He admitted more sobered, “I had already lost hope of having her, Toru-”

“I know,” he sniffed plenty, “they are months away from graduating and go to make their lives without our guidance... I was seriously considering kidnapping her-”

“Don’t joke with that, idiot.” Suguru scolded, pulling his husband off the backseat and closing the door, caging the whitehaired fool he loved under his thick, muscular frame and the car door.

"All of those plans will never be mentioned again," Suguru explained, "we must keep this as secret as possible; no one must know."

"Why?" Satoru asked bewildered, "If we had done it years ago while she was a minor, I would agree but she is already an adult-"

"Barely," Suguru interrupted and ran a heavy hand through his straight hair, "besides that's not what I mean." He stated more seriously.

"So?"

"Megumi." Was all he said, and Satoru understood.

"Megumi." the white-haired man repeated, burdensomely.

"Right, so not a word, no teasing or anything." Satoru's eyes betrayed how worried he was.

"Hey, Toru," he tipped his chin up gently, "...everything's gonna be fine, we'll figure it out, don't sweat it, babe." He pampered his man in sweet caresses, his lips pecking his lips with soft, reassuring kisses until his husband smiled again.

"There we go," Suguru praised, "Now on our way since tomorrow we have an early wake up."

They both left but neither of them could sleep, since were utterly excited about what this polyamorous relationship had in store for them.

COMING SOON PART 2....

⭕️ In my PATREON you will find NSFW art of this story and lots of content from JJK, exclusive smut fanfiction and animation like THIS ONE . Plus! voting poll privilege for the exclusive Patreon one-shot stories where you can choose the anime, couple pairing and kinky mood for the story, and of course, my eternal and immense gratitude for your support!!!

[daddypriceugh]

Trouble

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Alright, so this is a little something I wrote some time ago.

I hope y'all like it :) i'll start writing more stuff soon as I have more free time now!!

Tw: some curse words but all in one nothing major

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"He's definitely your son"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I think you know it"

The air in the car was thick and tense as you and your husband drove to your son's school. Reason for it was the phone call you got 30 minutes ago, stating that he got himself into trouble with a classmate.

You knew that your son was a bit different when it came to emotions. He was just like his father, quiet and reserved, but more repulsive. You of course denied that he got that from you.

The car came to a stop and Simon turned off the engine, body turning towards you. He had a neutral look on his face but you knew him better than that. When you told him about the call, he took it in better than you did. He seemed fine with it and that made you mad.

"You okay?" He asked, hand reaching for your cheek. You let him put it there.

"To be honest, i don't know. I just don't know how to react." He hummed in response, seeming to  understand your troubles.

"That's alright" he whispered "neither do I but we will know how to handle it" His palm was smoothing over your cheek, trying to give you any comfort. You smile at that.

"Yeah. Let's go then"

You were now sitting in the headmaster's office, desperately trying to not rip his head of. "And therefore I think that your son has some kind of mental problem"

Your body tensed at this sentence, anger spread through your body. How dare he say something like that? Your son is perfectly fine!

"Mr. Miller I think your overstepping a line right now." Simon's voice interrupted your thoughts. "Our son literally helped a friend that got bullied by that football idiot, how in hell does that have to do something with mental health?"

"Well, Mr. Riley from what I know you weren't exactly a steady father figure he could rely himself on. Whether it be your job-caused absence or your own mental state, your son had to deal with his emotions alone."

That's it. Know he reached your limit.

"And how the fuck do exactly know that huh?! Did one of the other parents tell you that? Well guess what, my son grows up in a loving family on which he can definitely rely on! I do not and will not take and crirism and insult from a man that clearly doesn't even know who the actual problem in this situation is. And spoiler, it's not my son but that bully that you just seem to fucking ignore!"

Mr. Miller's eyes widened at your outburst, clearly not expecting you to say someone like that. You felt Simon's hand reaching for your own under the table, giving it a quick squeeze.

"And if you ever tell my husband that he's not in a perfect mental state, than prepare for the worst! And now if you excuse us, we would like to take our son home with us now."

With that you stood up from the chair and made your way towards the door to open it, Simon quick to follow you.

You were greeted by your son standing in the hallway awkwardly with a black eye. He smiled at you and immediately engulfed you in a hug.

You pressed him closer to you, showing him that you care. You part after a minute. Your husband wrapped an arm around your shoulders and lead you towards the exit, your son not far in front of you.

Simon tilted his head to you ear, whispering.

"You do know that we will probably have to change school after that conversation"

A small laugh escaped your lips.

"Yeah maybe. But let that be a problem for tomorrow okay?"

"Of course, my love"

You two shared a small kiss and continued to walk to your car.

You are a happy family and that's all that matters.

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Tips for improvements are welcome!!!

Please ignore grammar mistakes English isn't my first language ♧

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[tenderhooked]

touch starved river dissertation and stalker frank please owo owo owo i love this i love your work forever and your examinations of touch starvation always hit the exact spot

GAAAAAAAAV WAUUGH I LOVE YOUUUUU WEEPS. as always so much of my writing and these fics is all down to you and your own writing mwah mwah <3

i got another ask about stalker frank so i'm gonna consolidate that into another post, which means :) i'm gonna yap about touch starved river dissertation this whole post :)

so! touch starved river dissertation. in many ways, exactly what it says on the tin: touch-starved river is real and true to me, and i wanna talk about it. so. this fic kicks off with river in hospital after being shot by a bullet that was meant for lamb and river jumped in front of. louisa's there, and she. she just grabs river's hand, when he wakes up, and the gentle warmth of her touch awakens something inside of him that has maybe always existed but that he's never had reason to let surface. it's like. he just craves love, and affection, and now he has a friend who is maybe possibly willing to give that to him. but he can't ask, because that would be shameful, and he doesn't deserve to have that love anyway. so. that's the first part of this fic!

the second. and the uh. the one that somehow hurts me even MORE. is the lamb of it all. because after river is released from hospital, lamb is there to pick him up. and as they're driving home, things take a severe turn and lamb essentially just. well. he's furious because river took a bullet meant for him and that scares the shit out of him, and in order to "protect" river he:

“Don’t fucking sir me,” Lamb spits, and River stiffens. Spine straight. Eyes forward. Perfect little soldier. “Before you turned up on the doorstep, do you know how many agents I had to carpool from hospital, or—or, or, here’s a tricky one, how many of them bled out in the street alone because their colleague couldn’t get it through his thick skull that unless he’s behind a desk the rest of his days he’ll keep getting them killed? Zero, Cartwright. Fucking zero. D’you know why?” River’s jaw works, and he means what he says next to be flat and hard and just as vicious as Lamb is being, but instead it’s strangled and tiny, like the dying squeak of a mouse caught in a trap. “N-no.” “Well, they all got it, didn’t they? They learned to keep their heads down and mouths shut. Yet you, you seem incapable of obeying orders, and you’ve dragged the rest of us right down with you and those mistakes you keep lugging around behind you like… yeah, like corpses. They’re infecting us. You’re infecting us, Cartwright, and I’ve got to get rid of rot when I see it. Health inspections, they’re fucking brutal this time of year.” “Are you—are you firing me?” “Christ, no. I haven’t the time. ’Sides, this is about teaching you a lesson. You’re gonna sit at your desk, day in and day out, regretting every moment that you didn’t quit back when you had the chance, until you’re blue in the face and too angry to care about being the fucking hero. Then… well.” In his periphery, River can tell that Lamb is staring at him, now, only he can’t figure out what the expression is. He can’t look. He doesn’t want to know. “Then, we can reconsider the termination of your employment.”

and this conversation kicks off the second prong of this fic, which is that lamb is grappling with like. the sudden realization that he cares about river, that he loves river like a son, and that he came this close to losing the idiot kid because he let their relationship go further than it was supposed to. so, to lamb, the obvious solution is to cut river out of his life entirely. unfortunately (spoiler) this uh. doesn't work so well!!!! and it comes to a head with the touch-starvation of it all in suuuuuch a massive terrible way for river and i'm just. HOUGH. VERY THRILLED ABOUT IT HEHEHEHEHE.

[lalilaloli]

I was going to wait for the livestream...

Really, I was, but eventually I couldn't wait. Especially with all the spoilers all around. So my first reaktions is of the songs is:

The challenge: Anna Lea has an wonderful voice. She's perfect for Penelope. Strong, emotional but fierce. She and the song is made for each other. She is the wife who has been waiting for 20 years without giving up on her husband. But she's at her wits end. The vultures (suitors) are losing their patience and are closing in on her and her son. She's fighting with everything she have for her husband, her son and herself and now she's going to gamle everything on all all or nothing roll of the dice: Odysseus bow. Her desperation, her refusal to give up hope, her love and her fierceness is all combined in just one song. Queen.

Hold them down: Dark, twisted, cruel, soft and deceitfully seductive. Ayron Alexander gives once again such an amazing performance as Antinous. Softer than velvet, almost like a caress, but with such an darkness and cruel threat barely hidden under the honeyed tones. The lyrics gives me the shudders and goes under my skin.

Odysseus: Oh. My. GOD. SLAY KING!! Literally. The music gives me doomsday feelings. The king is back and have no more fucks to give. And no more mercy. I could write an essay on this song because it's utterly and completely magnificent. Which I might do in the future. The music, the lyrics, the performances. It's just... I lack words right now.

I can't help but wonder: The reunion of Odysseus and Telemachus. Seriously Jorge? You're sending your audience in a mind blowing blood lust induced frenzy à la Ares and then you follow it up with this?? Really, you don't have any consideration for our hearts? Obviously not and I love him for that. Even if you probably could hear my heart break a mile away. Odysseus finally got to meet his baby boy. All grown up but still his beloved child. And Telemachus, he has been waiting his whole life to meet his father. The man who he only know through legends and tales. And now he's finally there. And Telemachus is worried that he's not going to be good enough and Odysseus is so happy and proud over the young man who stands before him and I can't! Also, just one thing more, the way Odysseus voice changes. From the ruthless monster in the song before till the incredibly soft, thick with love and emotional delivery in "I can't help to wonder." Ok. Fine. One thing more. Athena!!! She's back!

Would you fall in love with me again: Also called, Odysseus is an idiot but he's Penelope's idiot. The way that he stands before her. So scared that after all the time and after all he has done that she's not going to be able to love him. He has changed. He has done unspeakable things. He's broken. He not the optimistic and happy young man who left 20 years ago. He is, as Zeus called him "A man full of shame". He has scarified his innocence, his morals, his mercy, his values, his friends. Just to be able to get home to his family. He can barely recognise himself. So how can he expect Penelope to still love him? To ever fall in love with him again. And Penelope won't have it. She. Don't. Care. She loves him. She will always love him. Her delivery of: "Only my husband knew that. What does it make of YOU?!" and Odysseus: "Penelope." His tone so full of wonder and reverence. Penelope "I will fall love with you over and over again. I don't care how, where or when." "Don't tell me your not the same person! You're always my husband!"

Jorge Rivera Herrans. You didn't disappoint.

[best-of-theworst]

My cat's name is Tofik.

But, as all pet parents know, you don't call your pets JUST by their name.

Here's a list of things I call my Cat:

(I don't know why you'd want to read this but it's funny at times so go for it lmfao)

- PomPom

- PumPum

- Fluffy man

- Bad boiiiiiiii

- Fat boiiiiiii

- Chunky

- Hoe

- Toffee

- Toff

- TunTun

- Tun tun tuuurururu ru tu tu

- Big boiiiii

- Answering machine

- Small paws man

- The piano man

- The weekly entertainment

- Fatass

- Dumb

- Colonizer

- Dinosaur

- Mini Cow

- Micro Cow

- Puma

- Sad excuse for a tiger

- Asthma boiiii

- Asthma man

- The large

- XXL

- BBL boiiiiiii

- Faggot

- The only known gay cat

- Mayonnaise

- "Get off that right now!!!!"

- "Stop scratching it!!!!"

- Soup boiiiii

- Blueberry

- Water drinker 2000

- Horse

- Bitch boiiii

- Slut man

- The fluffiest boy in the world

- Princes

- Tuna

- Permanently fat

- Couch occupier

- Cow Cat

- Pure Perfection

- Oreo Cat

- Choking hazard

- Owl

- Pretty boiiiii

- Hehehehehehehehehe

- Alarm clock

- Nervous system

- Rainbow

- My son/child/baby/boy/love

- The thickest slowest Doberman

- Emotional support idiot

- Michael Jackson

- Pearl

- Phantom of the Opera

- Thomas Jefferson

- Voyager 1

- Sunflower

- Witch

- Average LOL player

- Toblerone

- Muffin Man

- Clown hunter

- Spooky scary skeleton

- Dinner bell

- Thick

- Lord of the litter box

- The Great Fatsby

- MacDonald

- Erotica writer

- Music Man

- Freddy Fazbear

- The man behind the slather

- Squid Game survivor

- Pink pony cat

- Covid 19

- Antelope

- Mayor West

- Obesity mascot

- The lost city of Atlantis

- The only real problem with this country

- Maple syrup

- The fastest fluff boiiii

- Cabbage

- Gotta go fast

- Church goer

- Avenger

- Harry Potter

- SLAY

- Banana man

- Sleepy boy

- Michael Angelo

- The man after midnight

- Smooth criminal

- Gofer

- Bun

- Olé

- Penini

- Small elephant

- Eeeee macarena

- The lost boy

- Albert Einstein

- Tamtam

- Bebeee

- Blues and Jazz

- Rain

- Lovely

- My favorite thing

Yea... there's a lot more... those are just the ones I can remember of the top of my head.

[leclercsfilm]

dragon blood runs thick

summary; everyone knew what would happened

im idiot, enjoy. i need to improve my spelling and my vocabulary so i started this side blog in order to achive at least something with my knowledge of this language or to fix my mistakes which, of course i have lots. english is not my first language. i had this piece in my drafts for so long that i know probably no one is as smitten with daemon as they were when the series arrived.

"You are still so cold" - Daemon mumbled.

They were curled up on a bed, trying to get some rest after eventful night.

"Then come closer. Warm me up" - she challenged him.

He turned around and faced her front while grabbing her arms to push her closer to him. Her head was on his chest while he stroked her back when she finally found the courage.

"I was with master this morning."

"Are you not feeling well?" Daemon's hand left her back, now grabbing her cheeks.

"I was...Not feeling very well for the past week. Expecially in the morning. He told me that it's nothing to worry about. He actually told me to be happy. I'm with child." looking up to Daemon, she wished for some affirmation. She's been nervous all day and pacing the whole castle.

"I am to be a father?" - he questioned.

"We are going to have child." - she repeated

Daemon kissed her cheeks, her lips, her hands. Finally, he'd been given a purpose. He'll give his dragonfly everything. He already had a few Targaryen names for the baby. Alyssa. Just like his mother. And Baelon. Just like his father.

"If it is a girl, I want to name her Daena. Or Daenya. I want to name her after you." - she softly declared her wish. She wants to look at her child and then to see Daemon in him.

"Oh... You are just perfect..." - he pinched her cheek. "I, on other hand want her to be Alyssa."

"We can name our other daughter Daenya. But this one can be Alyssa." - she promised

"Other? You plan on more? What if it is a son?"

"Maybe after your father or brother."

He couldn't wait to choose a dragon egg for his little dragon.

.

Daemon was standing near the iron chair. He wanted to talk to Viserys about Stepstones. His older brother seemed to be uninterested about defending their best interests.

Lord Corlys already gave up on a help of the king. He and his love, Princess Rhaenys, decided to began a war. Open war against the danger that lurked on Stepstones.

Daemon while waiting for Viserys made up his mind about war. He is going to defeat the Crab King. He was already annoyed about dramatic situation with Lord Corlys and King.

Slowly walking out of the throne room, he spotted his wife's brother. He wasn't alone. Beside him was Otto Hightower. Her brother's loyalty was long forgotten. Daemon took his sister as a wife even if their House wasn't so noble. Even if she wasn't Valyrian. Viserys was obsessed with making a peace with Westerosi houses.

They weren't deserving of a Valyrian prince.

Yet, Daemon married her.

He already told his wife about Otto and her brother. They were plotting against Daemon. He told her. She wasn't surprised. Her brother was ambitious idiot with no political knowledge. But he got lucky to marry his sister to a prince.

He walked to the Dragon Pit, in order to see his companion, Caraxes. His dragon was excited for a ride that Daemon had promised long time ago. With his pregnant wife, Daemon couldn't really spend that much amount of time with his dragon. He tried to help, watch and protect her as much as possible. His own mother died after giving birth to his younger brother. He didn't wished that upon his wife.

When ride was over, and Caraxes was safe in Dragon Pit, he rushed over to the castle. He really didn't want to be out of castle for that much, but his wife assured him to go and spend some time with Caraxes. His red boy.

"My prince." - master stood in front of his chamber.

"Where are the guards?" - Daemon realised that something indeed had happened.

"Your lady wife began her labor. " - master whispered

Daemon stopped. Surely master is lying. It was not the time for her to give birth. It's early.

"It's early! How is it possible? Let me in." - Daemon opened the door.

Passing through the door, he saw his wife in the middle of the bed. Everyone was around her trying to save her. The little dragon rushed. He shouldn't. There is no way his little dragonfly could survive this.

"You must breathe... Continue pushing my lady."

"Daemon." - his wife softly said.

"My love..."- Daemon offered his hand to her. One was holding hers while other moved her hair out of way.

"You shouldn't be here."

"I will be here. It's going to be alright." - he hushed her

Just when she tried to say, another contraction hit. She screamed in such pain that probably whole castle heard.

"It's almost here. Keep pushing." - master informed

After five minutes, the child was born.

It was undeveloped, deformed girl with wings. It was rushed. She should be carrying her for little longer.

Daemon saw that she was fighting for her conscience. He looked at master only for him to hide the child.

"Where is our child?"

"My prince... Please... You should already know what it is." master looked away

Master came to her and began cleaning her and trying to stop blood.

She was tired and on a edge of a sleep.

"Where is my child? Is she dead? Let me see her"

Daemon looked at her. It was a girl. She was small, bloody. Undeveloped, weak thing. Turning her, he saw little wing poking out of her back.

"Dragon blood runs thick. You'll have another child. Children. You both are still young. There is still time."

With all this glory, about dragons, fire, riding, bravery. Here, on childbed, you've come to see the real battle of dragons.

"Daemon, where is our baby?" - she was trying to get someone at least to answer her.

He looked at her, coming closer to bed.

"She is gone. She didn't have a chance. Are you alright? Is she still bleeding?- Daemon asked master

"Let me see her." - she begged

"Daemon please"

"Daemon."

-

[all-risejd]

A New Judgment Chapter 2: Two Offers and a Smack (Poly Judgment Day Fic)

Written by Scarletxraine who can’t seem to remember to post to this godforsaken hellsite so has me post here for your enjoyment!

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7.

The men of the Judgement Day share a confused look. "Well, that makes things more interesting." Damien comments once Triple H and Nessa were gone.

"Dom, did you know she was going to be here?" Finn asks, stepping over to Dominik and helping him off the exam bed. Dominik doesn't answer, just looks down at his hand that is clasping the bracelet.

"Dom are you ok man?" Damien asks, starting to worry about his young partner. "Hey what's going on in your head..." He messes with Dominik's hair.

"I gave her this on our anniversary last year. It was tantamount to a proposal how much it meant that I gave it to her." "What do you mean? You broke off an engagement to join us?" Finn asks confused and ready to slap the young man upside the head.

"Not exactly. My grandmother wanted me to give it to the woman I wanted to marry, it wasn't a proposal but more of an intent to propose," He explains "Ow! What the fuck man!" His hand goes to his head that Finn just slapped.

"She seems damn near perfect why would you leave her? You know you could have just joined us as a teammate and not romantic partner, or you both could have joined as our partners?" Damien chides.

"My dad got in my head talking about how mom suffered, and I remembered him never being there for major moments but bringing me in for shock factor when it suited him. I was never around, and I didn't want her to suffer like that and have to see a story of me and someone else. I ended it to protect her, she deserves better than what I can give. Plus, I don't know if she would be ok with that. She gets jealous and territorial." Dominik shrugs.

"Let me get this right," Finn starts and takes a breath, "The girl you apparently wanted to marry and still apparently want to, who is in healthcare like your mum and understands and supports you unconditionally... You break up with her to protect her feelings and in the process break her heart and she still loves and supports you." Finn slaps him upside the head again. "You are a fucking idiot you know that Dom, you fucked up big time."

"Yeah, and I want to fix it at least be friends with her. I want her in my life as selfish as that sounds..." Dominik looks at his partners like a kicked puppy.

"Well, we were texting Mami and agreed that if she wants to join our relationship, she can, we just have to negotiate. If that is something you want of course it has to be a unanimous decision. Or you can get with her again and we all just remain friends too." Damien offers knowing what Dominik's answer will be.

"I don't want to leave you guys either, I don't know." Dom almost whines.

"Well going off her response when we told her she seems receptive enough to maybe broach the subject if you make things right with her." Finn analyzes the conversation from earlier as they head to their locker room.

"We can help, you are not in this alone." Damien offers and Dominik smiles and nods in agreement.

"Right so here is what we will do..." Finn starts.

Nessa and Triple H only walk for a few minutes until they reach his office. He holds the door open for her and holds out a chair for her before he goes and sits behind his desk. A thick stack of papers conspicuously sitting in front of him. "Without realizing it you cut some excellent promos. You made people conflicted about the match and got people on your side." He explains and shows her tweets of people supporting her and the hashtag #justicefornessa trending.

"To be honest I didn't even want to come but Mr. Gutierrez insisted, begged even and to be honest I am hurt about why he did it." Nessa eyes the stack of papers.

"To be honest with you I knew he was bringing you and he worked some things out. He wants to help his son and you. Even with the betrayal he still loves him. He didn't mean to hurt you or really manipulate him." He looks at her sympathetic. "Rey wants to help Dominik, in both his personal life and his career and he asked me to give you a job. It was brought to my attention that you applied to be part of our medical not long after Dominik joined the company. I would like to extend a formal offer. It would be a dual contract. Less than normal talent but more than traditional medical and probably more than you make now." He smiles proud that they came up with this plan.

Nessa looks confused but not surprised, "What do you mean sir?"

"You are a nurse, right?" He asks.

"Yeah, a charge nurse on the Peds Unit."

"Well, we want you to be part of our medical team of doctors and nurses that travel alongside the talent and shows both taped and un-taped. And to be a talent, part of the story and potentially getting physically involved with a potential of matches in the future if both parties agree." He explains and she is intrigued.

"I can't just up and leave my job, I'm under contract and don't want to risk the children's lives." She explains.

"We can buy out your contract, we contacted the facility where you work to put a plan in place only if you agree so there is coverage on short notice." He doesn't even look sheepish.

"So, you and Rey planned this? Why?" She levels a soft glare at him.

"Rey thinks you both can get closure or back together if you had a chance to talk and wants to make sure both of you are happy and taken care of as I said, even though Dom has a grudge against his dad at the moment. Made the story that much easier since it is true." He gives a sheepish smile.

"I can't make any promises, but I'll look over the contract and have my lawyer do the same. When would you like an answer by?" Is her response as she holds out her hands for the stack of papers.

"We would like an answer by Wednesday so we can bring you on at Smackdown and get you some training, which you will continue with your team and an assigned trainer, and safety tests if you are ok getting physical." He answers leaning back in his chair.

"You also have some control over what direction your story goes with them, we are thinking a triangle between you Dom, and Rhea or a "relationship" between you and Damien going by how you two reacted to each other after the match." He adds on.

"What about their true dynamic?" She asks trying.

"We are unsure about unveiling that to the public, they barely accept LGBTQ people and subtext, we don't know how they would handle that." He shrugs, at least honest.

"It would be an interesting thing to explore and explains their dynamic better." She offers and thinking more to herself.

"That is true and something we might explore if the opportunity presents itself. I do hope you decide to join us, Miss Klein." He stands up offering his hand to shake again.

"Thank you for the offer, sir, and please call me Nessa." She gets up and shakes his hand.

"Then call me Paul," He answers, adding, "I look forward to your answer either way Wednesday." He gestures to the door his assistant standing there.

"Rhea wanted to see me, could I go talk to her before I leave?" She stops at the door and asks.

"Yeah, Heather, please show her where Rhea is." He orders, and Heather nods and leads the way. Once there she knocks on the pole before pulling the curtain aside revealing Rhea stretching. She sees Nessa enter and walks over, placing her arm around Nessa's shoulders.

"Finally, I was beginning to think you left mini-me."

"I was going to. Just because I am happy, he has you doesn't mean I want to see it." She shrugs out of Rhea's arm not wanting to be caught in a compromising position in case anyone comes in.

"What's that you got there luv?" Rhea gestures to the stack of papers in Nessa's hand. Nessa looks down and hugs it to her chest.

"Oh, uh nothing to worry about. You wanted to talk to me?"

"Yes doll, come sit let's talk before the boys join us and I have to go to my match." Rhea gestures to the couch. "I wanted to make sure to tell you Dominik never cheated on you. He started as just a wrestling partner. He didn't join our romantic dynamic until weeks after he left you. We even gave him the option of bringing you in on the dynamic if you consented. I don't want you to think he cheated on you." Rhea explains and puts a comforting hand on Nessa's thigh, an intimate gesture she doesn't shake off.

"I don't think that, I figured it was something like that. I don't hold it against you as long as he is happy and safe, I'm happy for him." Nessa places her hand on Rheas and squeezes it before continuing.

"That just means he doesn't want to be with me, that I wasn't enough, which hurts more and makes me wonder what is wrong with me." Nessa word-vomits, and Rhea looks dismayed and places her hand on Nessa's cheek gently directing her to meet her gaze.

"Hey no, stop that. There is absolutely nothing wrong with you. From what I've seen and heard from Dom you are an angel. I'm sure there was a reason in his idiot mind, you know how men are never thinking through their decisions until after. Did he even ask you about the dynamic before leaving you?" Rhea consoles, rubbing Nessa's back. Nessa shakes her head no, trying to keep from crying.

"I don't know why I'm spilling all this to you, and now I've been offered a job to add to the drama and join the medical team and I don't know what to do..." Nessa sniffles.

"Well sweetheart you preach about wanting Dom Dom to be happy, but what about you? You need to do what makes you happy too. Now it looks like you need a hug." Rhea advises and stands up holding her arms out for a hug. Nessa gets up and hugs her finding a strong sense of comfort in Rhea's arms her eyes closed.

She processes the conversation, and her eyes fly open and steps back from Rhea. "Wait you said something about me joining your relationship?!"

Rhea looks sheepish and nervous and glances at the ground. "Well yeah, if that is something you would like we are open to the idea." She answers.

Nessa stands shocked, unsure how to answer when the boys fling open the curtain and walk in, stopping in their tracks when they see Nessa.

"Hey Mamita, you are still here?" Damien exclaims throwing his arm over her shoulder which shocks her out of her thoughts.

"Uh yeah, Rhea wanted to talk to me."

"Oh yeah when we're alone you can call me Demi," Rhea smiles kindly trying to not make it weirder.

"I'm Luis if you didn't know." Damien gives her a half hug before plopping on the couch.

"You can still call me Finn." Finn chimes in and Dominik is having a staring contest with the ground. Finn and Damien share a look and smile seeing the stack of papers in Nessa's hand.

"Demi, thank you for your honesty and being so kind, I really appreciate it. I value honesty a lot." Nessa smiles a real smile at her and goes over and gives her one more hug to show she doesn't feel weird about the conversation. "It is a lot to process, maybe we'll talk later. Get my number from Dominik if he still remembers it." Nessa adds, throwing a dig at Dom who won't meet her eyes and mumbles sorry under his breath. Finn snickers and nudges the young man.

"Can we all get your number mariposa?" Damien asks winking at Nessa who can't control the blush that creeps up her face as she nods her head. Rhea tries to hide her smile and ends up smirking.

Nessa clears her throat. "Uh could someone show me the way out, I have to work tomorrow morning and want to go to bed. I've had enough excitement for tonight." She asks, and Dominik looks up for the first time.

"Yeah, reinita I'll show you." He steps towards her, but Damien stops him after seeing Nessa's expression.

"You just had a rough match, you need to rest. I'll show mamita out." Damien offers holding out his elbow and Nessa takes it mouthing thanks.

"Hey, I hope we see you again soon!" Finn waves goodbye and Nessa smiles back at him as she walks out of the room with Damien who makes conversation.

"So mamita, I need to ask how do you feel about what you learned today. Are you ok? He pats her hand that is still resting on her elbow.

"Honestly yes, I myself am more flexible with my sexuality, I am proudly pansexual and have no issue with the thought of polyamory. It is more so the fact I am jealous by nature and don't know how I myself could handle it so I am not sure it is for me." She answers honestly but doesn't add on what she was thinking that she is open to try.

"I'm glad you are handling this well, you say you are jealous by nature, but I see no jealousy or being territorial from you regarding Dom."

"Because it has been months and I have begun to accept that he doesn't want to be with me, and as I have said multiple times, I just want him happy I just wish I could be the one to do it." She smiles sadly as they reach the exit door for talent.

"Hey, you made him happy it wasn't your fault he did what he did. I think he freaked out and made a mistake and doesn't know how to fix it. Hopefully, I see you around mamita." He opens the door for her, and she rolls her eyes because she knows what he has been calling her all night.

"That's not my name!" She calls out smiling as she walks out the door, the contract clutched tightly in her hands.

[ao3feed-superbat]

Bruce Wayne's Guide To Tolerating In Laws

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/9sy6bjf by BlackandBlueMadness26 Bruce Wayne is not perfect, but he is trying, and he will make sure his sons all know they are loved, no matter who else they let love them. Words: 7074, Chapters: 3/?, Language: English Series: Part 3 of YJ's Guides To A Chaotic Life Fandoms: DCU (Comics), Young Justice (Cartoon) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Wally West, Tim Drake (DCU), Bart Allen, Kon-El | Conner Kent, Jason Todd, Jaime Reyes, Damian Wayne, Jonathan Samuel Kent, Barry Allen, Clark Kent Relationships: Dick Grayson/Wally West, Bart Allen/Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent, Jonathan Kent/Damian Wayne, Jaime Reyes/Jason Todd, Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent & Bruce Wayne Additional Tags: Fluff, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent, And mostly succeeds, i think, Bruce dealing with his sons growing up and having relationships, also bonding with the In Laws, Bruce being done with his sons falling for speedsters and Kryptonians, someone save him, companion fic, it will probably not make a lot of sense if you haven't read the rest of the series, OR IS IT, it's complicated - Freeform, also, Past Superbat, Kinda, Superbat is unrequited, Bruce just has zero luck in life and Clark is a thick headed idiot read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/9sy6bjf

[sequinsmile-x]

Rebuild

Emily gets hurt when chasing down a suspect, and it gives her and Aaron the chance to have a conversation they've been putting off for days.

-x-

Hi friends!

This is just some good old fashioned whump mixed in with our favourite idiots having an important conversation <3

Please do let me know what you think, comments, reblogs and likes feed the little writing monsters that live in my brain!

-x-

Warnings: mention of blood/injury

Words: 2.7k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

 He was mad at her. 

It was unlike them to bring their personal problems to work, their ability to compartmentalise enough to mean the two rarely bled together. This was different, the argument they’d been having in his living room, the one Penelope had interrupted when she called about the case they were on, still hanging over them days later. It made things awkward, tense in a way that had made both Derek and Dave come up to her separately to ask what was wrong, neither of them believing her when she tried to say everything was fine.

Sometimes she hated that the people she surrounded herself with read behaviour for a living. That her boyfriend was one of those people. 

She’d been with Aaron for almost a year now, his love for her the saving grace that had kept her in DC even when Clyde offered her an out, a job she knows she would have taken if it wasn’t for the man she loves. He was perfect for her. He loved her for who she was, not who he wanted her to be or who he thought she should be, and he was the first person who had ever loved her like that. She saw everything with him. A house they could call home. Marriage. A child that would make Jack a big brother, something he asked for a lot. She wanted it all.

But she still hesitated when he asked her to move in with him. 

It was the catalyst for the argument they still hadn’t finished. A momentary reaction, a wave of fear she hadn’t entirely understood herself at first washing over her. Something he’d picked up on immediately. Things had gotten out of hand quickly and both of them had said things she knows they didn’t mean, his accusation, his defensiveness when she tried to pretend everything was fine still ringing in her head.

“Maybe you’re just not as serious about us as I am.”

Penelope had called when his words were still hanging in the air around him, her gasp that followed barely out of her mouth, a phantom ache still stuck between her ribs, when he answered the phone, a look of regret in his eyes that hadn’t quite shifted since. 

She knows she all but lives with him anyway, that she can’t remember the last night they spent apart, but the thought of making it official had made her panic no matter how much she actually wants it. Every dream she’d had since haunted by the memories of the last time she’d moved in with a man and his son. Two pairs of matching icy blue eyes staring back at her, a name that was no longer hers slipping past their lips and echoing around her even after she had woken up. 

They’d agreed a long time ago not to bring their personal issues to work. So even though they were sharing a room like they always did they hadn’t spoken about it. The argument paused where it had been interrupted, waiting for them to get back to continue it. They were barely speaking in general outside of the case, falling asleep in their hotel bed with their backs facing each other, a cursory goodnight and I love you exchanged as they drifted off.

Every morning they’d woken up wrapped around each other, curled together in a way that made it hard to determine where the other ended. 

She looks at Aaron as the SUV comes to a stop, studying his face before he turns to look at her. She flashes him a small smile as their eyes meet and then she clears her throat, everything they hadn’t said to each other making the air in the car thick. 

He’d paired them together, an abuse of power he rarely used to keep her close physically when it felt like they were emotionally more distant than they’d been in years. He can see the sadness in her eyes, the tightness in her smile that reminds him of when she’d first come home from Paris, skittish and on edge in a way he’d never known her to be. It breaks his heart, and makes him sigh as starts to speak.

“Em-”

“So, do you want to be good cop or bad cop?” She asks, cutting him off, not wanting to have this conversation outside the apartment building of a suspect in their case, not sure how to even start explaining to him what she hadn’t been able to figure out completely in her own head yet. 

He smiles sadly and clears his throat, “You’re excellent at being good cop.” 

She nods and watches as he reaches for the door handle, the car door already open when she places her hand on his thigh to get his attention. When he looks at her she squeezes, hoping he feels the reassurance in it, that he feels the love.

“We’ll talk later, okay?” She says, smiling when he places his hand over hers and briefly links their fingers, a flash of the man she loves peeking out from beneath her boss.

“Later.” 

They sit like that for a few seconds before she lets go and they get out of the car. They don’t even make it to the front door of the apartment building before they see the guy suspected of being involved in the murders they were investigating, leaving the building. 

“Daniel Carson?” Emily says as she approaches. She places her hand on her hip, pushing her jacket back just enough to reveal her badge and gun, and she sees Aaron do the same out of the corner of her eye. Daniel’s eyes go almost comically wide and he takes a couple of steps backwards, putting more distance between them before he turns and runs, “Damn it.”

“I’ll go after him, try and chase him around the building,” Aaron says, already going after him, “You try and cut him off in that alleyway.” 

She nods even though Aaron is no longer able to see her and she turns, heading towards the alley next to the apartment building. She groans in frustration as she gets there to find the metal gate leading to the alley is closed, and she rattles it when she tries to open it only to find it’s locked, cursing under her breath. She knows she’s on limited time, that they didn’t know if the guy was armed or not and she didn’t want to be stuck on the other side of the fence from him and Aaron, so she starts to climb up it. Stepping on a trash can to give herself leverage. She’s almost over it when she sees Daniel Carson run into the alley, clearly not expecting to see her or for the gate to be locked. He turns and leaves the alley again, and loses her balance, falling to the ground.

It takes a second for the pain to register, for her brain to catch up with what’s happened. She tries to sit up but feels a sharp pain spread through her leg, making her yell out. Her eyes go wide as she looks at her thigh. There was a metal pole sticking through it, her blood warm and sticky as it pours through the tear in her pants. Her hands shake as she shifts just enough to lean against the alley wall, the movement making her grunt in pain. 

“Fuck.”

“Emily?” 

She looks up just as Aaron enters the alley, his panic clear as he kneels down next to her, the crack of his knees against the concrete echoing around them.

“I fell off the damn gate,” she says, wincing as Aaron touches her uninjured leg, immediately withdrawing when the movement accidentally jostles her, “Fuck,” she says, looking down at her thigh again, “That’s a metal pole through my leg.” 

The pain doesn't quite match up with what she’s looking at and she knows from experience that it's shock, her body protecting her from feeling it. She half pays attention as Aaron calls it in, a shake to his voice as he requests an ambulance as she keeps staring at her leg.

“Sweetheart,” he says, cupping her face, making sure he’s gentle as he guides her to look at him, “The ambulance is on the way,” he says, watching as she nods, “We’ve got to leave it in there until they get here, okay?”

She nods again, clearing her throat, “You should go after him.”

“What?” He asks incredulously, his eyebrows knitting together, “Who?” 

“Daniel Carson,” she grits out, pain radiating through her, “He ran as soon as he saw we’re FBI.” 

He chuckles humourlessly, “Emily-”

“I’ll be fine,” she says, forcing a smile, “It’s not like I can go anywhere, I can wait for the ambulance.” 

He stares at her for a moment as he shakes his head before he leans forward to kiss her forehead, “If you think I’m leaving you here alone you’re crazy,” he says, his eyes drifting back to her injury, “I’m not going anywhere. As soon as you’re in the ambulance I’ll call Derek, he can take it from here.”

Part of her wants to argue with him, but she doesn’t, because she always wants him to stay. His presence more of a comfort than anything else could ever be. She stares at him, the concern in his eyes clear as he keeps looking back and forth between her face and her leg, and she reaches out for his hand, linking their fingers together, the words she hadn’t been able to find for days finally escaping. 

“It’s not that I don’t want to live with you-”

“You want to talk about this now?” He asks, a laugh catching in his chest, painful and sharp as he watches her blood seep onto the ground beneath them, causing him to make a comparison to a moment from their past that he’d rather forget, the very thing that had forced him to bury her. 

“Call it a distraction,” she says, smiling when he shakes his head at her, “You can’t argue with me, I’m impaled on a metal pole,” she watches as he concedes, a subtle nod of his head, and she squeezes his hand again, “I love you, Aaron,” she says, “I never want you to doubt that, ever. And I want to live with you and Jack. And I want to marry you and have kids and…I want to do it all. But…” she drifts off shaking her head at herself, closing her eyes as she says the last part, “The last time I lived with someone else, the only other time I’ve lived with someone else, was with Ian and…it took me a minute to get my head around that,” she pauses and opens her eyes, unsurprised to find him staring right at her, “It was never anything to do with not wanting to live with you.” 

Aaron sighs, a breath that had been stuck in his chest for days escaping, and he chastises himself for not seeing it, for not thinking about why she would have hesitated. So caught up in his own insecurities, in his own head, that he hadn’t thought about it. 

“You’d think considering what we do for a living we’d be better at communicating,” he quips, and she laughs, shaking her head at him.

“Well,” she says, hearing a siren approaching, “No one is perfect,” she smiles, “Not even us,” she lifts their joint hands and kisses his knuckles, “We’re pretty damn close though.” 

He nods and leans forward to kiss her, a quick thing stamped against her lips, “I’m sorry for what I said,” he says, reaching out to tuck some hair behind her ear, “I know you’re as serious about this as I am.”

She kisses him, stopping him from apologising anymore, not needing to hear it. She’d already forgiven him anyway.

“I know,” she says, squeezing his hand as the ambulance comes to a stop at the end of the alleyway. She blows out a breath as she watches the EMTs approach, the thought of being lifted from the ground making her tense, something that makes the pain worse itself. She looks back at her boyfriend, “I’m sorry if I break your hand when they try and lift me up.”

Aaron smiles and squeezes her hand in his, a silent acceptance of what was to come, “At least we’re going to the hospital anyway.”

___

She has to have surgery to repair the damage done, and Aaron thinks the couple of hours he’s left alone in the waiting room are amongst the longest of his life. He goes to her room the second he’s allowed to, his hand around hers until she wakes up, keeping watch over her like she had once done for him what felt like a lifetime ago. 

When she wakes up the first thing she feels is the pain, dull and throbbing as it radiates out from the spot the metal pole had pierced through her skin, and as she opens her eyes she half expects to still be able to see it there, the phantom feeling of it still present. She smiles sleepily at Aaron as she looks at him, squeezing his hand gently as their eyes meet. 

“Hey,” she says, her voice gravelly from sleep and pain. 

“Hi sweetheart,” he says, standing up and dropping a kiss on her forehead, “How’s the pain?” 

She hums, her eyelids heavy as she blinks, “Somewhere between a paper cut and a table leg to the abdomen,” she says, chuckling to herself as he shakes his head at her, “What? Come on, that was funny.” 

“Sure it was, baby,” he says, placating her poor attempt at humour, knowing she’d do just about anything to cheer him up, “Do you need anything?” 

“Water would be good,” she replies, and he nods, kissing her forehead again before he turns to grab the tiny cup from the nightstand next to her bed, holding the straw still so she can take a sip. She swears it’s the best thing she’s ever had to drink, the room temperature water soothing her parched throat, “Thanks.”

He smiles as he sets the cup back down and sits on the edge of her bed, careful not to cause her any pain, “Anything for you,” he says, lifting her hand and kissing her knuckles, “You know that.” 

It makes her smile because she knows he means it. That he’d pull the stars from the sky if she asked. That he’d tear the universe apart and set it all on fire for her. She knows because she’d do the same for him. 

“The doctor said I’d need someone to look after me when I get out of here,” she says, her attempt to sound casual lost to the medication in her system and the exhaustion of the day, “I was thinking I should just go straight home with you.”

The way his face lights up is worth everything, his smile bright and disbelieving, “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” she confirms, shrugging nonchalantly “Home is wherever you are anyway.” 

He leans down to kiss her, “Home is wherever you are for me too.” 

She smiles softly and reaches up to straighten out his hair, the locks mussed from where he’d clearly run his fingers through it when she was in surgery. 

“Did Derek and the others catch the guy?” She asks, and Aaron nods in response. 

“They did,” he replies, “Found some of the missing items from the victims in his apartment too. So they are closing up the case with the locals.” 

“Good,” she says, leaning her head back against the pillow, scrunching her nose up in distaste, “Derek is going to give me so much shit when he finds out I fell off that gate,” she says, only half joking. When she looks back at Aaron she watches him hesitate slightly, and she narrows her eyes, “What?”

He clears his throat, “He…may already be calling you The Six Million Dollar Woman.” 

There’s a moment of silence, a beat of it, before she scoffs in outrage. “Oh that bastard is lucky I’m going to be on crutches for a couple of months.” 

-x-

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[homelander-rp-blog]

"No fan of the cold weather? That's a shame, my land is covered with ice and snow all over, we only have on season that you can see the green grass on the ground, but don't worry, princess. I think you'll quite like it there. I don’t have dragons but we have lycans, wolves and polar bears." He looks over where the young girl nods her hear and spots the other princess, the future lady between the crowds, her hair down, decorated with jewelry, looking elegant in green dress while John settled on his fur, heavy cloak with blue stones designed all over the thick, dark material and his ceremonial shirt and trousers, set with dark boots and light blue mask on his face in shape of an owl, only because he couldn't think of any other animal. "Hm? Not interested in a dance? Then how she's going to lead future celebrations in the kingdom? A perfect queen is someone who knows how to manage a battle along with being good on the dance floor, am I right?" He chuckles deeply, holding the girl closer to himself when the song changes again to a folk dance.

He holds the princess hand and ushers her to a corner, taking a glass of wine from a passing tray of a servant and hands it over to her, his attention is drawn to where she waves her hand at and he locks eyes with the sister for a moment, returning back her glare because who the hell she thinks she is?! Not wearing a crown yet and she's going around, trying to scare him?! Him, the strongest king around here! What a bold move! The young sister takes his focus once again, he smiles with a polite, curt bow "I'm proud to hear that, princess. My people aren't that bad like how outsider might say about them, we just have our own traditions but we're loving new guests around here" He then brings one of her hands up to press a kiss on that back of it, a rude move if you'd ask his mother but who cares, the girl is going to be wed to him in close future. "I heard all the good things about your kingdom, my lady. The beautiful forest and the rare flowers growing in that area, I'm looking forward to visit your father soon so you'll be expecting to see me again, maybe you can give me a tour yourself?" He winks playfully at her, following Gwyn to the balcony where the air is much nicer than inside, the night sky is clear tonight, shining down silver rays above them. One of his knight approaches from behind right at the time John was about to ask casually what she's saying to the creature, the dragons puts him on the edge and he has been a boy born on a horse and growing up with dogs and wolves, legendary winged dragons weren't for him. "Sir?" The knight calls for him, his helmet under his arm, face bare with shame to interrupt his king's night. "What, Kevin?" He hisses to the man without looking at him.  "Sir your mother demanded to speak to you in her room" He swallows thickly, bowing to the king again, his heart racing with fear. "I'm- I'm really sorry, sir!"  John sighs, shoulders dropping in defeat because when mother asks for something, nothing can change her mind, much like how she raised her son. "My apologies, princess. The duty calls and this one is really important. Though Kevin will keep you company" He bows his head to her then turns on his heels to rush back in the hall to the main Chambers. The knight squeaks after him "b-but s-sir!!" The young soldier gathers himself up soon, awkwardly smiling at the blonde girl. Just don't mess it up Kevin! Oh darn! She's so pretty!  "Y-your Highness, are you a dragon rider?" He finds it fascinating to have such a power over big animals like a dragon.

John assumes his mother probably wants to talk about the bride, he stops at his track when he sees another lord is about to approach Eris, the older girl. That idiot, pompous, self-righteous little girl.

"Excuse me.." pushing away the other lord who just yelps like a kid having his candy taken away, he grasps onto Eris' arm and harshly pulls her in the corner, the song changes to a slow paced waltz.

"Listen here, missy. Your dear sister gonna be mine soon, so just making sure to give you this clear message, stay. The fuck. Away from it" tightens his hold on her arm a little, voice a hissing anger.

"I- I am so sorry, I'm not very well versed in balls, this happens to be my first." she places a hand over her chest, blushing quite deeply at her lack of consideration and understanding. Then he asked her to dance so it was all to well that she was blushing. Suddenly Gwyn gasped, her body far closer than she expected when his arm pulled around her waist, they were waltzing and she was quite the dancer, able to keep up. "Eris." she speaks her name, the dragon rider.

"Oh Eris is here, she's never far but... if she doesn't want to be seen, then you wont see her." she giggled softly. "Did you not hear Sunfyre? They don't like to be parted, my dragon is not so large or so loud, he is no fan of cold weather but.. I suppose her dragon does not share that problem with her fire lungs." she hummed in contemplation. "Regardless she wont approach a dance floor, she preferred to learn combat than dance. I enjoyed the dance classes but Eris has two left feet, she'd not embarrass herself."

Keep dancing Gwyn, Eris thought, her eyes forever observant from the side lines. Gwyn could spot her, but she knew the exact shade of auburn to look for when the room spinned in their dance. She wanted to get him alone, this Prince. She wanted to warn him. since she had learned enough of this prince in the whispers of the common wealth. "Oh, there she is!" Gwyn stopped to wave her hand up to her sister. See, for her? For her she could pretend it didn't irritate her, she'd smile softly at her sister, raise her hand back but.. there were more than a few that turned look at the face of the dragon rider. The princess that had no fear, that flew in wind and flames. See Gwyn was a soft daydream, spring meadows and gentle heat but Eris.. Eris stood a fire blazing, she was vibrant and bright, she was danger that you wanted to slice against your tongue and taste the metallic sting. They were the two opposites, and yet it was clear from the love in her gaze that Eris did love one thing unconditionally. With a slow blink that gaze turned something far more sinister when looking at the Prince dancing with her. That silent glare was his first warning.

"I enjoy your kingdom, mainly the inside, is it always so cold outside?" she asked with a criminal curiosity. "Your people have been very kind to us." she added, oblivious to the stare down. "Maybe you could visit ours one day, the Meadowlands are quite different we've been told!" with a slow walk Eris had made her way out to a balcony, stood with her hands behind her back and her gaze up to the stars. "Easy, sweet girl." she called out with a gentle lull, the roar in the distance stilling. Though, the tongue she spoke? It wasn't their language, she knew another. She was talking to her dragon and no matter the distance the great beast heard her. She knew what she was doing, coming out here.. she knew that Prince wouldn't be able to stay away, formality would demand an introduction eventually and a new Lord had already stepped towards Gwyn as the waltz came to an end, in hopes of her hand in another dance. She was a popular girl.

[blushblyme]

Lover (Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader)

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Wife!Reader

Summary: The one where you found the most perfect love in the shape of a man named Bradley Bradshaw.

Warnings: None, just pure fluff.

Words: 2,273

Author's Note: I've noticed I have been writing a lot for Bradley these days. I think I should begin with my Hangman fic as soon as I can.

The immaculate smell of cookies emanated through the walls of the house as you and your son, Nick were mixing another batch of cookies. "Am I doing it right, mommy?" Nick asks as his little arms struggled to pull the spatula around the thick cookie batter.

"Yeah, you are. Do you need mommy's help?" You asked. Little Nick shook his head as he tried harder to mix the batter.

"I think I'm good, mommy." He replies.

You nodded as you smiled, ruffling his hair in the process. You then continued to mold the batter into the cookie pan so you could put it in the oven when you suddenly heard a cute giggle from the living room

You craned your neck to get a better view of the living room from the kitchen. Bradley was sitting on the floor with his eyes closed as your 4-year-old daughter smudged some makeup on his eyelids.

"Daddy, you need to sit still."

"Oh okay," Bradley says as he tried his best not to move. His hand wandered around the floor as if he was looking for something. "You think you could give daddy some more of this red one? I feel like the other cheek's a bit lighter than the other, baby girl." He adds as he raises a round blush palette in front of your daughter.

"One second, daddy. I'm almost done with your eyeshadow."

You smiled at the very wholesome scene in front of you. You sat on the kitchen stool as you turned to look at Nick who was currently munching on some cookies while he held a cold glass of milk in his other hand.

In the middle of your trance, some flashbacks from where it all started came flooding in.

Growing up with Bradley meant three things: endless singing, clothes trying-on montage, and running around by the shore the whole day. This continued until both of you grew up and needless to say, this also meant growing feelings for him.

You've always had the hunch that he knew about what you felt about him and that he just chose to ignore it for the sake of your friendship. By the time he graduated from the academy and was subjected to being part of the TOP GUN Programme, he finally cracked.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" He asked, crossing his arms on his chest.

"What do you mean?"

"Isn't this the part where you're supposed to tell me that you love me and you don't want me to leave? I mean, I'll be gone for 3 months."

Your mouth gaped in awe as you avoided his gaze. "W-What are you talking about, you idiot--"

He placed both of his hands on your shoulders as he leaned down to level his gaze upon you. "You're like an open book, sweets. You don't even try to close it."

He tapped your cheek gently as he grinned mischievously, making you scoff in embarrassment. "You knew? All this time?!"

"Yeah, since 10th grade." You couldn't believe it.

"Then why didn't you say anything?!"

He shrugged, "I didn't want to impose. I just thought maybe I was so attractive that you always looked at me in a certain way. But since you just admitted it, turns out I was wrong. You actually like me."

You gasped when you realized what he had just done, "You little-- Ugh! Damn you, Bradshaw!" You marched away from him as he ran to catch up with you.

"Come on now, you can't send me away like this," He whined, still laughing at your adorable reaction.

"Bradley, I swear to God I will punch you--"

"No thanks, but I'll take a kiss. It will last me three months, I think. But I'll let you know if I need more." He winked, making you frown in confusion.

"Bradley, just what are you on about?"

He rolled his eyes as he sighed dramatically. "Jesus, (Y/N). And here I thought I was the idiot one."

"Okay, Genius. You like me back. I get it."

He looked at you in confusion. "Do I?" You groaned as you punched his arm playfully. He chucked lightly before holding your wrists as he pulled you into a warm hug.

"I'm gonna miss you," He whispers on your neck.

You tightened your grip on his body as a response, earning you a soft kiss on your crown. "Now, where's my kiss?"

You giggled at the question. "Come back home in one piece, then maybe we'll talk."

He whined dramatically as he sighed. "Fine, I guess," He started to pick up his things as he looked over to the side where the airstair just opened. "Oh, there goes my ride." He pointed at the plane swiftly to catch your attention before he stole a quick peck on the lips as he ran towards the plane before you could even recover.

You were in complete awe as you stared at his grinning figure from afar, waving at you like a child before he went inside the plane.

After that, you came home smiling like an idiot.

3 months after, when you heard that he was graduating from TOP GUN, you immediately packed your things and flew to San Diego. As soon as he spotted you from a sea of pilots in white uniforms, he pushed his way out of the cramped space and gave you the tightest hug you have ever received from him.

"So, where's my kiss?"

"I believe you stole one 3 months ago."

"Aw, that's not fair. Can I have one as a graduation gift?"

You sighed in defeat. "Fine, just one. Then we'll talk, okay?" You tiptoed as you gave him a kiss on the cheek. He smiled lovingly at you as he nods, "Yes, ma'am."

When both of you finally had the time to talk, you tried to figure out what to do with your relationship. As per Bradley, both of you didn't need to figure it out since he had already absorbed the thought that you were his, and he was yours.

Bradley was the greatest boyfriend you could ever ask for. He'd bring you souvenirs that he claimed 'reminded him of you' while he was still away, give you massages out of nowhere, and braid or brush your hair for fun while listening to you rant about how the supermarket never restocked your favorite potato chip anymore.

When Bradley was young, he could clearly remember seeing his parents dancing around the living room as he sat there while clapping with joy. He could also remember his parents singing a song while he sat on top of the piano, trying his hardest to sing along to what they were singing.

His parents were the happiest with each other. As he grew up, he reflected on that thought and decided that he wanted that kind of relationship. A pure, happy, and passionate one.

A year after he graduated from TOP GUN, he decided to pop the question. He figured that he couldn't wait any longer and wanted to just take you home with him and be with you forever. Of course, you said yes.

Your marriage was pure bliss. Bradley was very consistent, and he proved himself to be better as the days went by. After a year of marriage, you found out you were pregnant.

Bradley found out about it through a little game you set up when he came home from a mission. You placed a bun inside of the oven and lead him to it as he stared at the oven for a good 10 minutes. "Babe, I think the bun's burning. Don't you think you should take it out already?"

You suppressed a smile as you shook your head. "Nah, it's not due to come out 'till September."

He frowned in confusion. "What? The bun will be spoiled by then---"

You rolled your eyes at his cluelessness. "Jesus, Bradley. I'm pregnant."

He blinked at you for a while, taking all the information in. "Oh." He breathes out. His eyes widened as he suddenly pointed at the oven. "A bun in the oven--Oh my god! You're pregnant! I'm gonna be a dad!"

He lifted you up carefully as you laughed at his reaction. "And here I thought you were so smart, you couldn't even figure that out."

"I'm sorry, babe. I think it's the post-flight brain fog." He grinned before hugging you lovingly as both of you ended up cuddling on the couch for the whole day.

All throughout your pregnancy, Bradley was very hands-on and protective. In your fifth month, he already bought some things to use for babyproofing around the house. When he found out that both of you were having a boy, he passed out.

When Bradley found out that your water broke, he immediately filed for an emergency leave for a week just to be there for you during your labor. But the moment he got to the hospital, you were already holding your baby boy in your arms.

You could tell that he was mesmerized by his newborn with the way he looked at him. He cried for 2 minutes while he hugged the little boy close to his chest as he carried him away from you to get some alone time with him.

When Maverick and Penny came to visit, Bradley refused to let his newborn go. Bradley wanted to hold him for as long as he could, even if his arms went sore. He sat by the corner of the room as he cooed at the little boy in his arms

"Let me hold him, Brad." Maverick says as he earns a groan from Bradley.

"Not today, Mav. I'm having my moment here."

Needless to say, he remained like that for hours.

When Bradley was a good husband, he was also a good father. Unlike any other dad, he loved doing the dirty work. You never knew why he was always so excited about changing the diapers, bathing the baby, and feeding them even if it was messy to deal with. When you saw how happy he was with it, you figured it was just him being a doting father to his firstborn.

When Nick was about 2 years old, there came baby number 2. You cried yourself to sleep after you found out that you were pregnant again and Bradley couldn't be there for you because he was stationed for a year in a different country.

You called him and told him everything. He assured you that everything was going to be fine as he promised to be home as soon as he possibly could.

After a year of being away, Bradley finally came home to a reading little boy and a crawling baby girl.

That night, he cuddled both children to sleep after reading them a bedtime story. You were left to sleep alone in your shared bedroom, but it didn't matter. You just didn't want any of this happiness to end.

In the middle of the night, you felt an arm wrap around your waist as Bradley buries his face on your neck from behind. "I'm sorry for not being able to be there for you when you were carrying our little girl. I promise to do the best I can to make up for the lost time." He whispered.

You used to think that perfect love didn't exist. Little did you know that that kind of love took a human form in a man such as your husband.

"Hey, hun. You okay?" You heard Bradley ask you as you snapped out of your thoughts.

"Yeah," You replied as you turned to look at him and laughed. "Wow, honey. You look...good."

"Yeah, I know, right? I feel like a walking butterfly clip," He says as he poses in front of the mirror, combing the wig with his hand to straighten it up. "Man, I look hot. Our daughter should be a makeup artist when she grows up."

You laughed as you took a minute to absorb his little ensemble. His blonde wig was out of place, he had colorful hair clips around it, and he was wearing a pink, frilly apron from the little tea party your daughter set up a while ago before she decided to mess with her dad's face.

You made your way towards him as you hugged his waist. "I love you so much, Brad."

He hugs you back as he places a gentle kiss on your forehead. "I just hope you didn't do something bad, but I love you more." You slapped his chest gently as you chuckled.

"Daddy, you forgot your earrings!" You and Bradley looked down to see your adorable daughter handing her dad some plastic clip-on earrings. Bradley gladly takes them from her little hands as he clips them on his ears.

"I think this calls for a family picture," Bradley says as he reaches for the camera, pulling the children towards the living room. Nick sat with his plane next to Penelope with her doll as Bradley set up the camera. You sat next to the kids as Bradley ran to sit beside you before the camera flashed. As soon as it ended, Bradley and the kids looked at the photos.

"Mommy's got a third eye."Nick laughs as he looks at the photo before pointing at your forehead. You frowned in confusion as you immediately looked for a mirror, and there you saw a lipstick mark on your forehead. Bradley.

You looked at him as he grinned. "I love you." He mouths at you before looking at more pictures with the kids.

Life couldn't get any better than this.

[ppersonna]

my only wish - knj | m

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

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

✹ rating- explicit/18+/nsfw

✹ pairing- kim namjoon x reader

✹ word count- 15.1k OOF

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

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

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

There are few things you hate most in this world. 

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

 But nothing takes the cake more than two simple things: 

 Christmas. 

 And Kim Namjoon. 

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

 And don’t even start on Kim Namjoon. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Yes, Mr. Kim?”

 “I’ve got a case for you.”

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

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

 “I know you won’t let me down.”

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

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

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

 Personal Injury Suit.

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

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

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

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

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

 He looks over the documents and sucks his teeth.

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

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

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

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

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

 “I know, babe. I know.”

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

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

 “Yeah! Fighting!” Jimin cheers.

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

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

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

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

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

 “I am her grandchild, Mom.”

 She’s silent for a moment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Namjoon, I’m just conce-”

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

There’s a stunned silence on the other end.

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

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

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

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

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

 “Fuck.”

 He drops his phone to his wooden desk and grimaces. 

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

 There’s Jennie, his ex.

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

 His last hookup, Jihoo?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “God, Jimin, come on.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Yeah? The IT guy?”

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

 He scrambles to grab the phone out of your hand.

 “You literally refuse to do anything I ask.”

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

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

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

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

 “How's the new computer?”

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

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

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

 That laugh is the sultry demon himself, Kim Namjoon.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “I have my own coffee.”

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

 “Looks fancy.”

 You purse your lips and clutch your coffee even closer.

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

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

 “Fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Fuck off.”

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

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

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

 “I need a favor.”

 “No.” Your answer is quick.

 Namjoon looks up at you in surprise.

 “You haven’t even heard it yet!”

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

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

 “You’ve got to help me. Please.”

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

 “Fine, I’ll bite. What is it?”

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

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

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

 Your eyes widen, and your mouth falls agape.

 “You—You what?!”

 Namjoon sighs and lowers his voice.

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

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

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

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

 Well, his fake girlfriend.

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

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

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

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

 Namjoon steps back and moves towards the coffee machine again.

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

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

 “How d'you know about them?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

 With an aggravated sigh, you relent. 

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

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

 “Deal?” He murmurs.

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

 “Deal.”

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

  Jimin doesn’t let you live it down.

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

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

 Flopping into the couch beside him, you sigh.

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

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

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

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

 “Then tell me, what was the deal?”

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

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

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

 “Wow,” he breathes.

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

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

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

 “Shut up!” You cry.

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

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

 Jimin’s cheeks immediately turn a shade of rouge.

 “Yoongi? Yoongi who?”

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

 Jimin swallows a large swig of his wine.

 “Oh. Yes, I did.”

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

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

 “Jimin!” You huff. “The computer?!”

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

 “I… might have forgotten to ask.”

 Your mouth drops open.

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

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

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

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

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

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

 You playfully slap at Jimin’s thigh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Well, good morning to you, sunshine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Jimin kicks at your foot again. 

 “Stop talking,” he grumbles.

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

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

 “Right now?!” You ask, incredulous.

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

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

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

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

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

 “Jimin, I swear to God.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Yes. Call Yoongi.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Even if it is... well, fake. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Namjoon smiles as he sips his cappuccino. 

 “I got you a fresh one.”

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

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

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

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

 Namjoon settles his cup down.

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

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

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

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

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

 He stifles a laugh.

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

 With a dramatic sigh, you agree.

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

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

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

 You level a look.

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

 Namjoon can’t help but snort a laugh.

 “I meant after that.”

 You shrug as you settle back into the seat.

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

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

 A scowl comes over your face.

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

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

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

 He shrugs and scooches his mug around the carbonate table.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Already?!”

 “We’re burning daylight, baby.”

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

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

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

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

 “No, we’ll take my Range Rover.”

 You roll your eyes and grimace.

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

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

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

 Christmas shopping with Namjoon is mostly painless.

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

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

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

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

 Why do things feel so easy with him?

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

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

 It’s confusing.

 It’s amazing.

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

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

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

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

 It’s infuriating and wonderful all at once. 

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

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

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

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

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

 Namjoon sucks his teeth and nudges you.

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

 You stick your tongue out at him playfully.

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

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

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

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

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

 “Fuck you, Namjoon.”

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

 “In due time, my love.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Which means waking up to Kim Namjoon.

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Ugh. Unbelievable.

 Namjoon has even made you actually enjoy Christmas.

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

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

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

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

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

 And then it will be over.

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

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

 Nothing more.

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

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

 Fuck.

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

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

 “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Oh, my son, I’ve missed you.”

 Namjoon kisses the crown of her head and smiles.

 “Missed you too, eomma.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Because this is all fake. 

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

 “Yeah,” you nod. “I’m great.”

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

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

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

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

 Jungkook smirks as he steps up next to you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Fuck.

 “Here we are!” 

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

 “Wow,” is all you can muster.

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

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

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

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

 “This is—Wow, this is amazing.”

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

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

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

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

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

 “Not such a Scrooge after all, eh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Well, your fake boyfriend. Right.

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

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

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

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

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

 An absolute vision.

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

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

“So do you.”

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

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

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

 “Yes?”

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

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

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

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

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

 “Knock Knock!!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “It’s alright. Let’s go?”

 Namjoon nods and holds out his hand with a smile.

 “Let’s go, girlfriend.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Fuck. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  You should have thought through the bedroom sharing thing more.

 Because sharing a bedroom is one thing.

 And sharing a bed is another.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Namjoon laughs for a moment, then quiets.

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

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

“What?! Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

 Namjoon barks a laugh.

 “My what?”

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

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

 “Wow,” he breathes. “Thank you.”

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

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

 Namjoon smirks.

 “And the Nespresso?”

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

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

 He chuckles and settles down into his pillows.

 “Goodnight,” he whispers.

 “Goodnight, Namjoon.”

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

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

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

 “Merry Christmas, Joonie.”

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

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

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

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

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

 “Of course,” Namjoon yawns.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Merry Christmas?” He offers shyly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Yeah.”

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

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

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

 This is all too much, it’s too real.

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

 The tears don’t stop.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 He’s proposing.

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

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

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

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

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

 There’s no way you can recover from this.

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

 “____, will you marry me?”

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

 Oh, how you wish this were all real.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 It’s silent and Namjoon’s heart sinks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Don’t you get it, Namjoon?”

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

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

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

 “I never had to pretend.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Never been more serious in my life.”

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

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

 You didn’t put up much of a fight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 He’s an entire three-course meal.

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

 “Take your shirt off.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Why don’t we practice right now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Yeah,” is all he can manage.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 A Nespresso.

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

 Inside, the card is simple.

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

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

[witchybiitchy]

c’est ça l’amour | l.n

fic masterlist

chapter 2

It was the pre-race press conference, and Sydney had been partnered with Nikita Mazepin. She’d never really spoken to him, mostly because she didn’t want to, but she didn’t harbour any personal negative feelings towards him. Just her general disdain for people who do generally shitty things. As she walked into the room with Daisy, she could hear the interviewers chatting and one had an incredibly thick accent. She just prayed that he wouldn’t be the one asking the questions. 

“Daisy,” Sydney asked in a sudden panic, “do you have an hair tie?” 

“Yep, here you go. Just relax, you’ve been great at these so far. You’ve got reason to be getting so stressed over interviews. You’re officially a pro.”

“I will be a pro when I can speak sans this fucking accent, non?” Sydney said as she tied her hair in a high ponytail. Daisy had gotten used to the occasional French word in her speech. Something about certain words in English just didn’t fit what she was trying to get across. 

“Your accent is what makes people love you so much, it makes you different.” Daisy replied. 

“Yeah, different because I sound like a stupid person who has just learned how to talk.” Realistically, her English was fine. Sure, she didn’t understand some words, and she couldn’t always communicate exactly how she felt, but she could talk. And her car-related English was perfect. But when you’re surrounded by people who also speak English as a second language but do so almost flawlessly, well, it takes a toll on the self esteem. 

“You sound cultured.” Daisy said, smoothing out her collar and twirling the bits of hair around her ears with her fingers. She’d never admit it, but she got just as nervous for these things too. 

“If you insist.” Sydney said, smiling before walking to sit down. She crossed her legs, before remembering one comment she’d once seen saying that it made her look like a pussy. She knew that they were probably a 12 year old boy, but it stuck in her mind and she uncrossed them, trying to find an appropriate spot between letting the balls breathe and squeezing them tightly together.

Like a stone dropping in her stomach, she felt herself get sick at the sound of the interviewer's voice. She was sure he had quite a nice voice, if it wasn’t for the incomprehensible accent. She couldn’t tell where it was from, but she knew she definitely had no idea what he was saying. It sounded like English, and yet she couldn’t distinguish one word from another. It was like one long string of noise, with Nikita nodding along to every word. She heard her name, and then silence, and she looked panickedly at Daisy, but to no avail. 

“Uh, sorry, would you be able to repeat the question?” She asked, feeling her face go red. She heard him slow down his speech a little bit, but something about his vowels made it sound like he was from another planet. She noticed the inflection and then the silence, and was trying to think of how to get out of this situation. 

“I’m so sorry, but I cannot understand what you are saying, maybe your, euh,” what was the word for colleuge, fuck, fuck, “euh, friend,” she cringed, “could read the question?” At this point her cheeks were the colour of cherries, and Daisy only looked on sympathetically. At least she wasn’t angry. She noticed Nikita looking bored out of the corner of her eye, and she wanted to strangle him. Not everyone could be the son of a Russian oligarch. 

“Um, okay.” Well she understood that. At least they were both embarrassed now. 

“Last week, in Italy, you were only a couple of places away from points, and obviously you started the year well in ninth. Do you think you’ll be back in the points this weekend?” And it was an easy question, too. God, I’m an idiot, she thought.

“After qualifying P14, it is not an ideal spot to be in, but it is not terrible, and in the last few races I have,” god just say the h it isn’t that hard, “been able to overtake and improve from my qualifying, but every race is different, so we shall see.” 

“And Nikita, what about you?” The same guy asked the question, and Sydney felt bad for the man with the accent for stealing his spotlight. He probably didn’t care, but still. 

“For the record, I could understand you” he said, nodding towards the accented man. He grinned like it was some big joke, and Sydney tried to smile like she wasn’t dying on the inside and didn’t feel her face flushing with anger now instead of embarrassment. Now that she could understand the questions, the interview flew by like any other, but she couldn’t stop herself from replaying those first few moments over and over again. By the time she left the chair, she felt as if she’d flashed herself on the podium from the level of embarrassment. She didn’t say anything to Mazepin as he left the room, even though she had millions of things that she wanted to sneer at him. 

“Daisy, mon dieu, I am going to kill myself, it was so bad.” Sydney said, closing her eyes and squeezing her fingers over the bridge of her nose.

“Don’t worry, there was nothing else you could’ve done. Plus, people might find it endearing.” She said, ever the optimist. 

“With Maze-pine and his little comment? I do not think so.” Sydney replied. 

“Mazepin is a PR mess, if anything that’ll come off worse for him than you.”

“Eugh, Daisy, how are you not angry with me? It makes me feel worse that you are so nice.” Daisy just smiled sympathetically and gave her a comforting pat on the back. 

“I’ll work on it.” She said, and led Sydney over to a table where she could get her lunch. Before she could sit down with her food, Daisy opened her phone after it dinged and gave Sydney a pitying look. 

“What, what is it?” Sydney said, her bad mood only souring. 

“Franz wants to see you.” Franz Tost, the team principal. For fuck’s sakes. 

“Well, I suppose it can’t be any more embarrassing than what just happened.” Sydney sighed. 

“Syd, it really wasn’t that bad. You were very polite.” Daisy said, her rapid tapping speaking volumes more. “See you on the other side.” Sydney knocked on the door to Franz’s office and received one last supportive smile from Daisy before she heard the ‘come in’.

“Sydney, how are you?” Franz asked. She’d always found him very friendly, but in this moment his usually welcoming smile appeared menacing. 

“Good, good, and you?”

“Yes, very good. I would like to talk to you about something.” So he wasn’t messing around. “Don’t look so scared, you still have a job, I’m not angry with you.” She felt 10 kilos lighter. “I just saw your press conference.”

“Franz, I’m really sorry, I-”

“Don’t stress so much Sydney, you are always so cynical.” She would have to ask Daisy what cynical meant. “I just want to ask you to put in a bit more effort with your English. You are always speaking French with Pierre, and mostly with Charles, maybe if you spoke to the other drivers more?” Sydney felt herself getting defensive before remembering that this was her boss, and he didn’t mean it personally. Realistically she could be a bit more social, but she wasn’t a very extroverted person and most of the drivers already fit into little groups. Without Pierre, she would essentially be an outsider. 

“You are right, I’m just not a very chatty person, but I will make the effort. But seriously, where was that guy from?” Sydney asked, hoping to lighten the mood. 

“Scotland, I think.” Franz said, trying to bite back his smile. 

“Oh.” Sydney said dejectedly. She was expecting something a bit more obscure. 

“The past is in the past. I just want you to try and make an improvement. As long as you are driving well, I won’t push you too hard.” Franz said, now smiling freely so that she knew he wasn’t being serious. Well, not fully anyway.

“Thank you, I will, I promise.” Sydney said and retreated back to her lunch. Daisy was still tapping away furiously and Sydney didn’t want to interrupt her, so they walked back to a more communal room in silence until Daisy began to speak. 

“What did Franz wanna talk about?” She asked like she already knew. 

“He just wants me to make more of an effort with my English, but he didn’t seem too angry.” Sydney said following a mouthful of tofu. 

“Okay, okay good.” Daisy replied, still not looking up from her phone. Sydney wasn’t annoyed, Daisy worked several times harder than she did on a good day, but she was more concerned about what was so urgent. 

“Daisy, what has happened?” Sydney asked. She would start with her h’s, for sure.

“Nothing, nothing.” She said, locking the screen and putting it in her pocket. Sydney narrowed her eyes at her but continued eating. It was best not to get overly worked up about things before a race, especially when those things were online. At the end of the day, none of it was real life anyway. 

“Okay, I trust you, but after Sunday I will want to know.” Sydney said, and she noticed that Daisy’s smile wasn’t quite as warm as it usually was. She felt bad, but realistically it was more important that she perform well in the race than have a spotless image. 

“And Sydney, we’ll come to you now, how has it been for you following your pre-race interview the other day?” It was Sunday, she was in the post-race press conference. She had placed 10th, and was just happy to have scored another point for herself. It wasn’t groundbreaking, but she was glad to be making steady progress. 

“Um, I am not sure what you mean by that question.” She laughed, and was hoping he knew that she understood him. She had been placed with Esteban and Lando, as they were always random allocations, and so far they had both had most of the questions. The novelty of a female racer was still fresh, but the majority of it had worn off before the season even began. It was like a radioactive substance; it had a half-life, but would never die.

“Only that there’s been a lot of talk online about you.” She wouldn’t know, she gave Daisy full access to all her social media and only knew about things when it was urgent. She trusted Daisy to take care of things, and usually would have been informed about something like this. Clearly something was more of a big deal than Daisy was making it out to be. 

“Euh, I do not use social media personally, so I actually have no idea what people are saying about me. Hopefully it is not too mean, no?” She smiled her charming smile and the men in the room (so, everyone except the PR girls) laughed. What misogyny can do for you. 

“Some people have been, um,” clearly this interviewer wasn’t expecting to provide an explanation, and Daisy was surprised that he didn’t just drop it and move on. “Kind of saying that you’re a bit, erm,” he looked around for help, but none came to him, “sort of, I mean I don’t agree, but.”

“Mate, you can tell me, I will not cry, I promise.” Another laugh. 

“Just that you came off as a bit stuck up, how do you respond to that?” Daisy’s eyes widened and she looked as if she was trying to send Sydney telepathic messages, but she wasn’t receiving a single one. 

“Euh, well obviously I do not think that I am stuck up, but my accent probably does not help, euh, because the French have a bit of a, euh, reputation.” More laughing. She was on fire. Hopefully it was with, not at. When you smile for the entirety of your answer, you can pretend it’s with. That was Daisy’s strategy. “I am just honestly not that good at English, as you can tell by my speaking, but, euh, yes, I can see how it could have appeared in that way.” She couldn’t really, but it was a safe answer. Daisy nodded approvingly. They turned their attention to the others, and the rest of the questions were very predictable. She was becoming and expert not just in car-English but also feminist-English. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about it earlier, only because I didn’t want to distract you, I mean you know how it is.” Daisy said quickly as they left the room. Sydney noticed Lando looking at her from the corner of her eye, but as soon as she turned her head he was talking to his own PR agent. She must’ve been imagining things. 

“Daisy, it is okay, plus I did so well, non?” Sydney said, smiling. 

“You did, you did.” She seemed to calm down.

“But, actually, could you tell me what’s going on? The race is over, I can be full of distractions for a few days.”

“It’s really not much, I honestly don’t even know why he asked about it. It was a few YouTube comments that got a lot of likes, and I think a few things on twitter, but seriously, not that much.” Daisy said, retrieving her phone and opening youtube, the aforementioned conference right there, halfway through the video. 

“Not much, huh?” Sydney said doubtfully. 

“You know how I get.” Daisy said, trying to downplay it. She scrolled down to the comments and pointed to the one right up the top; 4.5k likes. Now that she checked, this video had a strange amount of views, 457k. Normally pre-race conferences hardly broke 20k, unless something notable happened. Fuck. 

The comment read ‘laurent gets 2 points to her name and thinks she’s something special just cos she’s a chick.’ A few, less popular comments were spattered amongst the general Mazepin bashing, but at least it was comforting to see how much less hated she was than him. 

“ ‘I think she actually just didn’t understand him, but she could’ve gone about it better.’ What the fuck was I meant to do, huh?” Sydney said, defensively. Her usually happy yet reserved facade broke for a rare moment, but she was only loud enough to turn a few heads. 

“Most people just think that it was, uh, condescending when you said friend instead of just, the other guy.” Daisy said tentatively, opening her camera roll this time to show some screenshots. Most of the posts only had a few likes, the most popular with a few hundred, and there weren’t even that many. 

“Daisy, where’s the rest?” Sydney said as Daisy put her phone back in her pocket as they walked to Sydney’s personal room where she could shower and change out of her racing clothes. 

“What do you mean? That’s all I could find. I’ve been checking regularly, but most people are talking about other stuff now.” She said. Sydney didn’t want to pull out the sexism card so early in the season, but she was just thinking about the whole situation too much and it was all she could conclude. 

“Then why are they asking me about my thoughts when Maze-pine has hate up to his ballsack?” She was clearly learning too much English from Charles. 

“Honestly, I don’t know. Mazepin got more hate for his comment in that press conference than you did, by a big margin too.” Daisy said, looking at Sydney sympathetically. Both of them were thinking the same thing but neither wanted to say it. It would be a long career if they got hung up on every double standard. 

“I’m going to shower, and I know that you are planning something for me to do to help this, and I promise not to complain about it.” Sydney said, unzipping the front of her overalls and unplaiting her hair. 

“To be honest, I don’t think we need to do anything. Your instagram post from after the race hasn’t had any comments about it, and most people are just defending you from attacks that aren’t there.” Sydney smiled.

“You are doing your job too well Daisy, I’ll have to do something really bad.” 

“Just have your shower.” Daisy said, but she seemed to be much less stressed than before. Sydney felt the hot water hit her skin and let herself let go of the weekend’s embarrassment.

[aks3raao1]

Red Queen Writing Piece on “What if Thomas wasn’t dead” by me✨ (Spoilers included btw (obviously))

I was sick of pacing this underground prison, I’ve been doing it all day everyday. Ever since these Scarlet Guard idiots locked me up, I’ve had too much time to think, too much time to regret.

And too much time to think of everyone I lost.

Don’t be weak, Maven.

Mother’s voice still rung sound in my head, although not as much or as loud as it would without the silent stone quietening it. This prison was a blessing and a curse, it seemed.

As the minutes dragged on, thought after thought came streaming down, with very few comments from Mother. Everything that’s been trapped underneath the thick hide of my skin, and every feeling I once thought to be lost with the rest of the imperfect son - the shadow of a flame, a disappointment to a family with a throne of nothing but bloodshed - came slowly, like water over rocks.

First, I thought about Mare. How I betrayed her and scarred her to no end. How I loved her and love her still. I chose a thrown over her but I was greedy. I was gonna have my cake and eat it too. Even if that meant I had to make her suffer. Oh, how I hated it...

After Mare came Thomas, the boy I never got over. And probably never will. I can still remember how kind he was...how forgiving he seemed to be. Would he forgive me now?

“Maven.” 

For a second, I could hear his voice, as if the torture of my mother’s wasn’t enough. This somehow felt worse... If Death is at my doorstep, I wonder why they just won’t come in.

“Maven.”

There it was again, sweet and laced with a faraway longing. I could still remember when he-

“Maven!”

Now that one scared me. It was as if he was in the room with me.

Out of pure confusion and shock, I looked around, not willing to believe more than just his voice was haunting me. My eyes landed on a pair of piercing hazel irises before I swore I was dreaming.

“...Thomas?”

“Long time no see,” he blew his long brown bangs out of his eyes, an action I recognized all too well, “Maven.”

I blinked and rubbed my eyes, certain that my mind was playing tricks on me. This is all Mother’s doing. It can’t be real. I saw him...

Images of fire and red, crimson blood filled my vision, his screams audible even with all the noise that surrounded us. His last words...were a terrible, horrible shrill, still hopeful even when I was the one spelling his doom. They were nothing but my name...a dead name that was replaced with “Monster”.

“How...are...”

I couldn’t get the words out, still too in shock to even move. It’s not everyday you see dead people come back to life.

“I’m a Newblood, Maven. A healer, kind of like a merge between a skin healer and a blood healer,” he gestured to his body, “See? No burns.”

“But...I killed you.”

“Uh, no. You and everyone else thought I was dead. Then you left my unconscious body to rot which gave me time to heal.” He smiled at me when he said that, seeming to not have a care in the world. I always suspected he was a Newblood ever since we found out about Mare. Even if my mother was petty...it was still hard to believe that she made me do it only because he weakened me. And now I know I was right.

“...Why did you come here?”

He shrugged, looking to be as calm as ever. Just how I remembered him. “I wanted to see you. Is it that hard to believe?”

Yes. I briefly wondered if he even heard of what I did and how I got here before I laid eyes on the medal stuck to his jacket, indicating that he was a private eye for the Scarlet Guard. Did I just turn blind today or what?

I looked at him with the eyes of a deer in headlights, not willing to believe he knew what I did and was okay with it. He just sighed and spoke again, “I know, you did some pretty awful stuff,” he paused, making sure to look me dead in the eye as he said his next words, “But that wasn’t you, Maven. Not the Maven I know.”

Instinctively, I donned the mask I perfected all those years ago, the mask of an uncaring king, a manipulator and monster above all else. If I wanted to protect him in any way...he had to believe.

“The Maven you know is long gone.”

Even with my practiced words that I have said so many times to so many people, he didn’t look convinced in the slightest. Instead, he smirked.

“Not even Elara Merandus can take away all of you, just like she couldn’t take away all of me,” he said so matter-of-factly, “Or all of the lightning girl.”

His tone made me shiver slightly, though I had no idea why. Seeing how his smirk widened and how much he knew, it was intimidating to say the least. I wonder if Mare told him anything...

Without another word, Thomas took a key out of his pocket and gingerly placed it into the keyhole of the prison lock. Was he supposed to escort me out?

As the key turned and the prison bars swung open on unoiled hinges, he stepped into the cage of silent stone with no hesitation and slowly made his way towards me.

“I would risk anything for a second chance right about now.”

One step.

“Especially if I won’t get it again.”

Second step.

“So if the Maven I know is still in there...” 

Third step.

“Let me meet him one more time.”

I wasn’t aware that tears had appeared until he touched my face. It made me aware of how painfully close we were. I couldn’t deny that I still loved him, and that I’ve always missed him.

And between all these lies and betrayals, I couldn’t make the choice to choose another lie when it would be seen through so easily.

And so, I cried openly when his arms wrapped around me, finally managing to let the old, imperfect Maven come into the light. It was so difficult to where a mask around him...

@lumieregod there ya go, broski! I wanted to end it on a better note where they run away together but I thought that this was also a good place to end it. Tell me what you think!

If you liked my writing, just follow the tag, #AA's Writing Tag

(yes, I am aware that idk how to tag stuff in the actual post, I'm still figuring out Tumblr...)

[callmebrycelee]

9-1-1 REACTION

This reaction is for the season 6, sixth episode "Tomorrow" which originally aired on October 24, 2022. The episode was written by Nicole Barraza Keim and directed by Joaquin Sedillo. Spoilers ahead!

We are officially a third of the way through this season and I must say, I am really enjoying 9-1-1. Every episode this season, so far, has been a perfect balance of thrilling emergency sequences and checking in on our main characters and their families. This week's episode is one of the best of the series and that's saying a lot because there are so many episodes of this show that are currently sitting on my list of favorites. The episode felt very reminiscent of the 9-1-1: Lone Star episode "Saving Grace" where we got to see how Judd (Jim Parrack) and Grace (Sierra McClain) got together. I left that episode loving those characters and their relationship even more and that's how I feel about a certain couple who were the primary focus of this week's episode of the OG series.

"Tomorrow" isn't technically a "Begins" episode but it certainly feels like one. We start off in 2010 and see Hen and Karen meet for the first time at a bar. Karen, who is rocking some long, curly black hair instead of her iconic dreds, is going on and on about her job while Hen looks absolutely bored. This version of Hen is a bit standoffish towards Karen which was quite jarring to see but it sort of made sense when you realize she had just broken up with Eva (good riddance). What I liked most about the scene was the twist I didn't see coming. Karen assumed Hen was her blind date that her neighbor set her up with while Hen only showed up because she believed she was meeting up with Chimney. As it turns out, Chimney is Karen's neighbor and it was his idea to hook the two of them up. This is so fascinating to me because I'd always assumed Hen met Karen on her own. I do find it interesting that Tommy Vega on Lone Star was the reason Judd and Grace got together and now we're learning that Chimney's the reason Hen and Karen are together. Apparently paramedics make great matchmakers.

We get flashbacks of their romance scattered throughout the episode and we get a lot of info about Hen and Karen that informs their relationship in the present day. We saw in "Hen Begins" just how hard things were for Hen being a black lesbian. Karen has similar challenges in her own career but the repeal of Don't Ask Don't Tell has her hopeful about the future. Hen's inability to cut ties with her ex, Eva, causes major issues in their relationship and when Hen suggests that she and Karen take in Eva's unborn son, Karen puts her foot down and says no. This leads to the two of them having a brief separation.

Knowing how much Karen has grown to love Denny in the present makes it hard to believe that she was so against taking him in when Eva went away to prison, but I totally understand where Karen was coming from and Hen was definitely wrong asking her to do so, especially knowing how insecure Karen was when it came to Eva. Just when it's looking like Hen and Karen are going to call it quits, Chimney steps in again and gets them back together by spilling the beans on Hen's accident she had on the job. When Karen left the airport and went to see Hen, I thought to myself, Hen, if you don't take Karen back, you're an idiot. Hen tries to get Karen to go away when she stops by to see her, but Karen remains steadfast in her love for this woman. She refuses to leave her side, not again, and she has stood by Hen through thick and then. Karen ultimately accepts Denny coming to live with her and Hen and becomes more of a mother to him than Eva ever could. The three of them become a family and even though there would be problems between the two of them going forward, it is so clear that they are each other's happy endings. 

Back in the present, Hen is still getting used to life as a civilian. Last episode she left the 118 so she could begin her third year of medical school. It finally seems like Hen has everything she has ever wanted but she still hasn't turned in her resignation papers to Bobby yet. Meanwhile, Denny is tagging along with Karen to work for a school project. When they arrive at work, she takes him to her office and her assistant Zainab (Krishna Smitha) offers to give him a tour of the premises.

It was fun to see Karen in her element. We're so used to seeing Hen save the day, but Karen is saving the day in her own special way. She has several subordinates working for her, and while I don't exactly understand much of the science chatter they were having, what I did understand was that something really bad happened in the laboratory they were in which resulted in an explosion. 

Because Denny was on the phone with Hen when the explosion happened, Hen arrives at the same time the 118 does. Hen tries to go into the building but Bobby reminds her of her civilian status. He assures her he will get Karen out safely. Inside the building there's a lot of fire and smoke and one of Karen's employee's is dead. Eddie tells us that his brain matter is on the floor which thankfully we didn't have to see. Bobby, Chimney, Buck, and Eddie find the rest of Karen's team, including Karen, and they are able to get them out of the building. Karen is able to walk out of the building on her own accord but once the adrenaline slows down, she collapses on the ground next to Hen and Denny. There's a piece of shrapnel lodged in her side.

Hen rides with Karen to the hospital and when she codes, Hen tries her best to resuscitate her. This scene was very reminiscent of the episode where the older woman nearly died after giving birth. Thankfully, Hen is able to get Karen back to breathing and after they arrive at the hospital, Karen is taken into surgery where she has her spleen removed. Karen comes home some days later to recover and that's when Hen lets her know that she's decided to go back to the 118. Karen is shocked by this news and asks her wife if she is sure about her decision. Hen recalls the visit she received from social worker Diedra (Andi Chapman) earlier in the episode and tells Karen that she doesn't want to miss out on anything important. If she were to continue with medical school, she would be missing out on Denny growing up and not being able to foster kids. She would also be losing out on her other family - the 118. Hen is confident she has made the right decision and at the end of the episode we see her, Karen, and Denny embrace. 

I am so glad we didn't lose Karen. Even though Karen isn't a firefighter or paramedic or cop or 9-1-1 dispatch, she is such a vital part of this show. She's been there from the very beginning and I can't imagine the show without her. She is such a great mother to Denny and partner to Hen. No one rides harder for Hen Wilson than Karen, except maybe Chimney. Oh, and Athena definitely is up there, too. Most importantly, I hope whoever watched this episode realized that families come in all shapes and sizes. Hen and Karen aren't what many would call a "traditional" family but this episode proves they don't have to be. What I love most about 9-1-1 is how it's constantly redefining what it means to be a family. A family can be a woman, her gay, ex-husband, her new husband, and their two kids. A family can be a widowed dad, his special needs kid, and his best friend. A family can be two people co-parenting their child. A family can be two women and their adoptive child and their foster kids. Hen and Karen are such an inspiration and I love that this episode served as a love letter to the two of them. What a great episode in a series of great episodes. I cannot wait to see what happens next with the 118, especially now that Hen is back. Until next time ...

[crymeariveronceagain]

Hmm... you like MHA, correct? I'm curious what you think about the Todorokis then.

Well.

Endeavor: Ugly man. Disgusting. Almost worse in my mind than Cassius Sencen. Worse than him. You treat your kids like crap??? You treat your children like weapons in front of me??? Then I will never forgive you, and your kids whose lives you ruined after you gave them intense psychological trauma shouldn't have to either. Screw off, and screw yourself, idiot. I mean *cough* I don't much care for him. I also hate the "redemption" arc he's getting. Like, firstly, why did it take so long for him to have this change of heart. Why did it take like, his wife going insane, his son going insane, his other son being abused for years, the rest of his children being neglected for years, and then being faced with his insane eldest son who he high-key thought was dead to start this redemption arc? Like, i get that sometimes people are thick-headed, but this felt wrong. Moreover, I don't mind a redemption arc when it's done well, but Endeavor's has happened too quickly, and it's too forced to feel real. His change of heart feels shoved in there like a "Time for Shoto to feel bad about hating his father!!!" kind of thing, which is always bad. Like, seriously. His dad verbally, emotionally, and physically abused him for years, very actively, and made him have major trauma from that, and now that Endeavor's like "uwu im sowwy" Shoto feels awful because for a long time, the only way he's been able to deal with Endeavor's crap is to pretend like his father doesn't care about him, doesn't want what's best for him, doesn't want his approval or forgiveness. And when Endeavor wants approval and forgiveness(like a lil' bish), Shoto feels awful because, what's he supposed to do? He's built up this persona in his head of who his father is out of self preservation, and his father wrecks that, and acts all wounded and hurt whenever someone insults or hurts him. It's just... shady. And gross, imho. Like, idc. Maybe other people have different opinions on the whole arc. I just really do not vibe. Like, sir. Leave your children alone. If you feel bad for what you did, give them time, space, actual apologies, and freedom. Don't. Force them. To be around you. Like. Come on. I don't care that you're having feelings about not being around them. But guess what they don't want to be around you anymore. Ok, except for maybe Fuyumi, but she can deal with it. Your children who you've excessively traumatized are not validators for your emotions. Get out of here. Goodbye.

Rei: I don't like her all that much as a character. But I know she's been through a lot, and I can understand her actions. She's fine. Not the best mom, not the worst. Nyeh.

Touya: Oh man. Oh man. Oh man. Oldest child is a golden child-to-invisible child pipeline. Oldest child starts out as a perfect and powerful creation. Oldest child finds out his power isn't what his dad wants. Oldest child trains and tries and tries and tries to make himself into what his dad wants. Oldest child ruins himself for parental approval. Oldest child puts entire life in the hands of someone who doesn't care about him. Oldest child realizes he will never be as "loved" as his littlest brother. Oldest child stops getting noticed, except in bad things. Oldest child realizes that he never meant anything, he's never going to be anything, and he will never be loved by his family. Oldest child is in severe mental and emotional distress. Oldest child fakes his death and runs away. Oldest child spends the rest of his life trying to make his father suffer for the way he was treated. Oldest child... has a point. Oldest child murders tons of people violently. Oldest child needs therapy. And possibly some jail time.

Fuyumi: Older sister trauma but is coping by making other kids' lives better than hers was. Just wants everyone to be okay. Aaah. Stop being relatable. Also, just. Side with your siblings, love. It'll make you feel better about your choices in the long run.

Natsuo: LET. THE KID. BE ANGRY. He was cheated out of a happy childhood, watched his siblings get emotionally and physically abused, and he's angry now. And that's completely valid. Like, this character is just completely valid. Heck yeah, insult your dad to his face. Your father hasn't earned your respect and he sure as heck cannot expect it. Moreover, I feel like Natsuo is just generally annoyed with everyone. He's annoyed because Shoto doesn't know how to use slang, he's annoyed because Fuyumi's too nice, he's annoyed because his mom went insane, he's annoyed because Toya's sort of kind of dead, he's annoyed. Let the kid be angry. He needs therapy, but he's doing okay.

Shoto: Oh. This kid has been really hurt. But hey, he's gonna be a hero, and he's doing his best. Like, honestly, I don't think there's much more that we can ask of this kid, just like I don't think there's much more we can ask of Izuku before both of them become vigilantes and join the LOV out of spite and pain. Like, yeah. Todoroki Shoto is a piece of work, but he is doing his gosh diddly darn best. And it's very inspiring, honestly, if an anime character can be inspiring. Like all the crap he's been through? Being pushed to be a hero since the day he ws born? Decides to be a hero anyways, but decides to be the kind of hero that makes people feel safe. Told he's going to be more powerful than All Might? Works at it crazy hard, isn't afraid to have(mostly) healthy rivalries with his classmates. Neglected and never had any real friends or contact with actual humans? Has a ton of friends now, whether he wants them or not, and is a king at cracking deadpan jokes, whether he thinks they're funny or not. Like, this boy. He's doing so much. I'm so proud of him, honestly. Like, I think he's got some internalized trauma, especially about how much of what he went through can be blamed on him, but like, really, this 15 year old super hero trainee is doing really well for what he's had to go through. I'm honestly like so proud of this kid.