#thank you so so much for the shout out! i always love to see 'bah humbug' getting love i really love that fic myself

[wannabe-cartoonist-blog]

I thought this was a call-out post for ME so I got very scared but you were so nice ajsjfjdjkdkf. Thank you?? I think you make a lot of excellent points here though. I personally love being as accurate and selective as possible when it comes to music choices in fics since those can really help set the tone and setting. That being said, do I always adhere to that? No. I mean, the showrunners themselves don’t even follow those rules sometimes. 

I kinda went on a rant here, so the rest of it (plus my own personal Steve playlist!!) will be below the cut! But thanks for engaging with me, I love thinking/talking about this stuff!!

It’s a pet peeve of mine when writers spam music and song lyrics in a fic, to the point where the majority of the fic is just like the lyrics, so I’m glad you think I incorporated the music into my fics well. A personal fav fic that has a banging soundtrack is AO3 user MrsEvadneCake’s In A Strange Land. If you haven’t read that fic before, please do!

For my stories in specific, Steve’s like for ABBA is tied to his mom liking them. They ARE his mom’s albums, but he listens to them more than her these days out of a sense of nostalgia and loneliness. Your suggestions are awesome, by the way, and I also think Steve would like The Cars (to the point where he’d be like “hey, I recognize this song/band” when it plays). I think Just What I Needed is an excellent Steve + Nancy song, as its a deceptively peppy song about an unhealthy relationship. It’s even in my Steve playlist hehehe.

I’ve mentioned it in my fics before, but I truly think Steve isn’t overly picky when it comes to music. I’m pretty sure that he’s a fan of most anything that’s on the American Hot 100 at any given point. My boy is basic like that LOL. He can’t even name a favorite movie or the show he is apparently a big enough fan of to remember the main character’s name, but not know the show’s title (Alex P. Keaton from Family Ties, mentioned in season 3 when they’re watching Back to the Future and again when applying at Family Video). He’s just not overly invested in pop-culture stuff like that, like someone say, Jonathan or Max, but it adds to his characterization I think. That being said, him bothering to remember song titles or artists should indicate that hey, he really likes this song/person and/or it has significant value to him! At least, that’s my opinion anyway and what I try to convey in my writing. Here’s my very very self indulgent Steve playlist for anyone interested. There are a couple of songs from In A Strange Land in here (Romeo and Juliet, and This Charming Man), and some songs cater to my stancy/stoncy agenda lol (the previously mentioned songs, plus I’m On Fire and This Must Be the Place, to name a few). But there’s also some “canon” songs in here, meaning songs we’ve heard playing in Steve’s car/his house (Raise A Little Hell, Hammer To Fall, Sunglasses At Night, Love Is A Battlefield, I Melt With You). The playlist gets more disjointed as we get to the end of it sorry about that lol. But these are the songs I like to listen to when writing for the character. :)

I like ABBA as much as the next guy, but I kind of hate how in the Stranger Things fandom it’s become the go-to example of era-appropriate preppy pop music . They were huge in the 70s yeah, but their last major hit One Of Us came out in 1981 (a full two years before season one), and they became seen as incredibly uncool for the rest of the decade. According to an interview with The Guardian in 2021, they were so disliked by 1982 that Björn Ulvaeus thought they’d never get the group back together. It wouldnt be that weird to headcanon one of the older characters liking them, but headcanoning the younger ones enjoying them unironically and without shame, especially the ones characterized as being "hip" or up to date with whats cool (which is why it`s so odd that Steve of all characters is the one most often subjected to this phenomena).

I have literally never seen anyone in this fandom mention The Go-Gos. Ever. That is an actual crime. You are all going to jail. The closest I’ve heard y’all get is mentions of Belinda Carlisle’s Heaven Is A Place On Earth, which came out in 1987, a year off from season 4 and definitely way too late for the first three seasons. The Go-Gos were literally the most popular all female rock band of all time. Head Over Heels is the U.S. national anthem and anyone who says otherwise is a liar. That second part was a joke but the first one is true. Personally I’d headcanon Steve and El in particular liking them. Steve because I’m pretty sure the only artist we see him listening to in canon is Pat Benatar, so him liking another, albeit much peppier, female lead rock act doesn’t seem like that much of a stretch. El because she deserves to have fun. If you want some song recommendations, my favorites from them are Head Over Heels, Turn To You, and Can’t Stop The World. Especially Turn To You, that song goes so goddamn hard.

Another band that I like and was popular at the time that I never see any mention of in this fandom is The Cars. I will admit though that that may be partially because the name “The Cars” is really hard to search for since both words in it are incredibly common. I also headcanon Steve liking them, he just seems like a The Cars kinda guy. Maybe Max as well (though I was a bit more confident in this headcanon before season 4). My song recommendations for them are Just What I Needed, Bye Bye Love, Let’s Go, and It’s All I Can Do (just note that these particular songs are actually from 1978-79, just because I happen to prefer their earlier work. It would probably still be considered pretty relevant, since there`s a world of difference between older songs by a band that is currently popular and older songs by a band that currently publicly disliked, but I thought I should address it anyway, since a lot of my argument hinges on relevancy. A couple songs that are more apropos are Drive and You Might Think, which are both from 1984).

I like a lot of other songs an artists from this time period and general genre, but these were the two that I thought were the most egregiously overlooked in the very, very specific context of the Stranger Things fandom, as well as being two of my favorites.

Sorry if this post came off as aggressive, you can headcanon literally anything you want (that’s kind of the point of headcanons lol), even in the face of historical inaccuracy, it’s just the ubiquity of that misconception in this fandom that bothers me a little, especially since it typically means overlooking other period and genre appropriate bands, especially ones I happen to like. Again, there’s nothing at all wrong with ABBA, or headcanoning ST characters liking ABBA. I especially liked WriterRose‘s (@wannabe-cartoonist on here I think) depiction of Steve liking ABBA in “Bah humbug” where the kids find one of their records in the player at his house and he tries to convince them it’s his mom’s. The music references in that entire fic series are great actually, you should go read it if you haven’t.

[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​

[memelleity]

muppets christmas carol sentence starters

❝ i am here to tell the story. ❞

❝ i am here for the food. ❞

❝ wait a second, you’re not charles dickens! ❞

❝ you’re too kind. ❞

❝ why should i believe you? ❞

❝ is it getting colder out here? ❞

❝ there’s nothing in nature that freezes your heart like years of being alone. ❞

❝ if they gave a prize for being mean, the winner would be him. ❞

❝ every day in every way, ____ is getting worse. ❞

❝ thank you for making me a part of this. ❞

❝ please don’t shout at me. ❞

❝ one might say that december is the foreclosure season... harvest time for moneylenders. ❞

❝ merry christmas? bah, humbug. ❞

❝ what right have you to be merry? ❞

❝ you’re rich enough. ❞

❝ why did you ever get married? ❞

❝ the world is at her best, you know, when people love and care. ❞

❝ there’s no such thing as strangers when a stranger says hello. ❞

❝ we’re having so much fun! ❞

❝ you big klutz! ❞

❝ there’s something in the wind today… ❞

❝ why are you whispering? ❞

❝ it’s for dramatic emphasis. ❞

❝ are you hurt? ❞

❝ storytellers are omniscient. i know everything. ❞

❝ how does he do that? ❞

❝ it looks like you… but i don’t believe it. ❞

❝ why do you doubt your senses? ❞

❝ what a terrible pun. ❞

❝ you always criticize me! ❞

❝ we took advantage of the poor, just ignored the needy. ❞

❝ we should’ve known our evil deeds would put us both in shackles. ❞

❝ as freedom comes from giving love, so prison comes with hate. ❞

❝ your future is a horror story. ❞

❝ this is culture. ❞

❝ you are such an idiot. ❞

❝ you want to see what’s going on, don’t you? ❞

❝ you’re just a child. ❞

❝ that was the worst trip of my life! ❞

❝ it’s my old school! i was a boy here. ❞

❝ who cares about stupid old christmas? ❞

❝ i was often alone. ❞

❝ you were never a lonely child? ❞

❝ nothing ever changed. ❞

❝ you changed. ❞

❝ remember, don’t tip the driver. ❞

❝ it’s time for the party to begin! ❞

❝ i suppose i should be grateful. ❞

❝ i’m bored with speeches. let’s dance! ❞

❝ mother always taught me, never eat singing food. ❞

❝ stop working, enjoy yourself! go meet some people! ❞

❝ i’m glad you two finally met. ❞

❝ remember…? yes… i remember. ❞

❝ how could we marry now? ❞

❝ this is for you. ❞

❝ we came so close to being close. ❞

❝ we’re not meant to be. ❞

❝ some dreams come true, some dreams fall through. ❞

❝ is it too early for breakfast? ❞

❝ did i already say that? ❞

❝ you’re a little absentminded. ❞

❝ i don’t believe i’ve ever met anybody like you before. ❞

❝ have you ever noticed that everything seems wonderful at christmas? ❞

❝ i love games! ❞

❝ how do you know that? ❞

❝ well, i’m usually trustworthy. ❞

❝ i knew you weren’t suited for literature. ❞

❝ i wasn’t eating them. i was merely checking them to see if they were burnt. ❞

❝ i’d give him a piece of my mind to feast upon… and i bet he would choke on it!❞

❝ life is full of sweet surprises. ❞

❝ no place on earth compares with home. ❞

❝ i have learned so much from you. ❞

❝ this is too scary. i don’t think i want to see any more. ❞

❝ will you not speak to me? ❞

❝ why is it so quiet? ❞

❝ you’re crying again. ❞

❝ how can they endure it? ❞

❝ life is made up of meetings and partings. ❞

❝ i know what i must ask, but i fear to. ❞

❝ answer me one question. ❞

❝ i’m not the man i was. ❞

❝ i don’t know what to say. ❞

❝ what is mine is yours. ❞

❝ if you need to know the measure of a man, you simply count his friends. ❞

❝ even if we part, i will hold you close in a thankful heart. ❞

❝ would i do a thing like that? ❞

❝ we carry love with us, so we’re never quite alone. ❞

❝ nice story. ❞

❝ if you like this, you should read the book. ❞

❝ merry christmas! ❞

[earlgreydream]

florist.

| Zemo x reader | fluff | smut |

anon requested. Zemo is a mob boss and the reader is a cute little florist who is always happy and all and she is a virgin but Zemo is really experienced. The reader wants to try it, and Zemo asks her is she’s sure and then she wiggles a lot and Zemo asks is he can tie her up because we ✨kinky✨ and she agrees and then after they try it the reader loves it and then Zemo sings her bah bah black sheep as a lullaby after wards as he holds her in his arms

The sweet aroma of roses welcomed the dark mob boss with the bloody hands. It surrounded Zemo, delicate and familiar, much like you. The bell chimed as he pushed open the door to your shop, leather boots tapping on swept tile floors.

“I’ll be with you in a second!” You called, bent down behind the counter, looking for white ribbon to tie bouquets.

“No rush, darling,” Zemo spoke evenly.

At the sound of your boyfriend’s Sokovian accent, you stood up. His heart softened when you beamed at him, a bright smile crossing your face. He loved your cheerful demeanor and your sweet personality. You brought the scary criminal so much joy, balancing the darkness with your light.

“Hi,” you breathed, walking around to greet him properly.

“Hello my beautiful darling,” he kissed you deeply, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“What brings you here? I thought you had big important meetings?” You asked, sliding your hands into his blond hair and dragging him back to your lips before he could answer.

“I just wanted to see my girl,” Zemo murmured into your neck, adding to the fading love bites that were already there.

“I’m your girl,” you giggled happily, squealing as he lifted you to sit on the counter.

He squeezed your thighs, his hands resting just below the hem of your sundress. You pressed little kisses to his lips, delighted by him visiting you in your flower shop.

“I was hoping I could come over tonight?” You asked shyly, your fingers toying with the blonde hair at the nape of his neck.

He hummed thoughtfully against his forehead, thinking through the plans for the rest of the day. He supposed that he could send someone else to the deals, already shifting his schedule around in his head. Zemo loved to indulge your every whim and desire, even if it were as simple as being together.

“I’ll be there,” he kissed you, feeling you smile into it. It made his heart swell as he melted at your innocence. Your hands smoothed down over his blazer, feeling his well formed muscles under the fabric.

“I’ll take you home today.”

You smiled, enjoying being carted around in one of Zemo’s many fancy cars. Your scary, dangerous boyfriend was a stark contrast to you, the innocent, sweet florist. He loved to spoil you and treat you like his princess, and he was soft for you. You adored him, and even though he could be intimidating at times, he was always sweet to you.

“I have some people coming in to pick up bouquets. I’ll see you later?” You inquired, and he pecked your lips.

“Later,” Zemo’s voice was low.

You watched him go, returning to your work and finishing up bouquets for happy couples to pick up.

“Thank you!” You called after the last people left.

You flipped the sign on your door to ‘closed’ and started to put away everything that was left out. The sound of a sports car rolling up outside caught your attention, and you grabbed your bag.

You were so excited to be with Zemo that you struggled to lock the finicky door, laughing at yourself.

“Hi, my love,” you smiled, stepping into the car with white leather seats. Zemo took your bag and set it in the backseat, his hand going to rest on your thigh.

You were practically anxious with excitement. Zemo had been caught up in copious amounts of work recently, leaving little time for your relationship. You were far more innocent compared to him, and the two of you had been taking things slower. Now though, with him gone frequently, you wanted more intimacy when he was around.

Zemo carried your bag inside for you, his free hand tightly holding yours. You were pushing your boyfriend up against the wall as soon as he was out of his coat and shoes.

“Y/N?”

“I can’t wait any longer Zemo. I need you,” you informed him, your pupils dilating with lust.

“You have me,” he responded calmly, wanting to hear you say it.

“No, I want you inside me. I want to have sex, I want you to take my virginity!”

The corners of his lips turned up into a smile, but he was hesitant to just give in. You’d gone quite a long time preserving your innocence, and Zemo didn’t think you’d be best off losing it to him.

“Are you sure?” He questioned, entirely serious. He never once pressured you, and he didn’t want you to feel as though you had to give him your body.

“I am.”

You looked him in the eyes with utter certainty. His hand went to your waist, pulling you into a needy, passionate kiss. Your fingers tangled in his hair, and his hand traveled downward, gripping your ass through the thin fabric of a sundress.

Zemo swept you off your feet, carrying you to your bedroom. He couldn’t hold out anymore, you just looked so divine with your dazzling smile and tiny dress.

“I will do my best to be gentle, darling,” Zemo promised as he crawled over your now-nude body. Kisses had been pressed to every inch of your body, Zemo drawing out the foreplay to try to help you relax as much as possible.

“Please, I need you!” You writhed before he’d even touched your core.

He watched you squirm, even as he gently held you still. Zemo dipped down and kissed your collarbone, making you claw at his back.

“My sweet darling, you simply can’t hold still. Do I need to tie your hands up?” Zemo asked, teasingly nipping at your skin.

He was surprised when you nodded, willing to try it. You wanted your dominant boyfriend to exert his power over you, leading you and showing you pleasure.

He retrieved a silk tie, binding your hands to the intricate bedpost.

“Say the word and I’ll free you, darling.”

“Yes, Zemo. Just please fuck me, I want you so bad,” you begged, lightly tugging at the ties on your wrists.

He knelt between your legs, brushing the tip against your soaked folds. You shuddered when he tapped your swollen clit, a choked moan leaving your lips. You were practically throbbing with need, salivating from the sight of your well-endowed boyfriend.

He held your hips and carefully eased into you, studying your face. You gripped the silk that restrained you, startled by how painful it was. You expected it to hurt a bit, but not near as much as it was.

“Zemo!” You gasped with watery eyes.

“I know, darling. I’m so sorry, just try to relax. It’ll feel better in just a moment,” he promised apologetically, his heart aching at the threat of your tears.

Sweet kisses were pressed to your lips, and you were thankful for the security of the ties. Zemo’s fingers danced and stroked your clit, trying to get your body to ease up.

“Want me to untie you?”

“No, no, please, just move—” you gasped, arching your back as he rolled his hips forward.

He built up a steady pace as he fucked you, stretching your tight pussy and drawing pleasure from you. You were better than anyone in the past, taking him and begging for more as he pushed his cock inside of you.

“That’s it, darling, cry out for me,” he groaned, further aroused by the sound of you shouting his name.

“Zemo! Please, faster!”

He obliged you, increasing his pace. He felt himself twitch, getting close to the edge. He was mindful that this was your first time, and he focused on making you come first.

The blonde leaned down and wrapped his lips around your nipple, licking over the hyper-sensitive peak and nipping gently. Mewls escaped your lips and your body trembled at the combination of that, with the tight circles being traced on your swollen clit. Your walls caught on the veins of him, his tip brushing against every invisible, sensitive area inside of you.

You threw your head back and screamed as your body ignited with warmth, pleasure spreading through you like wildfire. Your hands yanked at the silk that kept you from touching him as you grappled for something to ground you.

The sight of your rapture had Zemo spilling into you, coming with a force that made your body shudder around him. Sokovian profanities echoed in your innocent ears, your chest rising and falling under his heady gaze.

“Zemo, I need to touch you,” you breathed, and your hands were freed.

You dragged your fingers through his damp hair, pulling the baron down to you. Your lips were captured in a heavy kiss, arms wrapping around your wrecked body.

After a bit of cleanup and adjustment, you settled into his lap, clad in one of his warm sweaters. Be gently rocked you, singing softly in Sokovian, bringing you down from the aftershocks of the intense sex.

[justnerdthings]

Frigid Heart Ch. 1

F!Reader x Bi-Han

The first chapter. I'm not sure how good it is. I'll admit that I don't know much about Bi-Han.

I'm planning this fic to start off in the 1600's and then skip to modern day. But who knows if it'll happen that way.

Title by the lovely @khadrimxart

You were tossed from the cage at the Grandmaster's feet. You were such a beauty, even if you were from a rival clan. A servant girl, but one who had impressed the Lin Kuei, who had attacked your clan. You had such fury and loyalty for your dead masters that you had managed to hold your own against several Lin Kuei assassins. That was, until Sub-Zero had shown up. The Grandmaster looked from you, then to Sub-Zero.

"Are we taking prisoners now, Sub-Zero?" He asked with a raised brow.

"This one managed to fend off a few of our assassins," Tundra answered, bringing up the rear of the group.

"Oh?" The Grandmaster looked over the group, then back to you on the ground. Lifting a foot, he wouldn't even grace you with his hand as he raised your chin to get a look at your face. He grinned at your beauty, even with your face bruised and sliced, he could see it. The Lin Kuei had use for beauties like you.

You spat at him. Bloodied saliva splattered his leg.

He sneered. "Insolence!" He hissed and kicked you in the side of the head with an armored foot. You hit the ground like dead weight, knocked out from the sharp blow. The Grandmaster looked to his group of assassins with that scowl still on his face. "Who did she defeat?" He demanded, looking to each of their faces accusingly.

"No one who is here," Smoke answered, earning him an inquisitive look. "They were weak. We dealt with them."

The Grandmaster narrowed his eyes, but didn't question it. If they couldn't cut down a simple servant woman, then they deserved to be disposed of. "And who finally captured her?"

"Sub-Zero," Cyrax answered.

"Sub-Zero." The Grandmaster turned his attention to Bi-Han. "Well done. Though, I doubt she was much of a threat to you."

Bi-Han wouldn't have admitted it even if you were. "Not at all," he confirmed. "Smoke is right. Those other assassins were weak. They're not a problem anymore."

The Grandmaster smiled with a pleased nod. He could always count on this little group to do what was necessary. But there was still the matter of this wretched thing on the ground. He looked back to your limp body. "Well, she is your prisoner, Sub-Zero. Do what you will with her…" he trailed off, curious to what Bi-Han had planned.

Bi-Han bowed his head in gratitude, but said nothing else. The Grandmaster almost frowned at being denied Bi-Han's plans, but it wasn't of importance. He brushed it off. He turned to the rest of the group. "You've all earned your rest," he said with a dismissive wave. The mission had been completed. There was nothing more to do for the moment.

You woke as cold water splashed over you. You gasped and shrieked as your body tensed in chilled shock. Your hands were chained to a stone wall, and you had been stripped naked. Unable to hide yourself, you shivered on the cold stone floor. Two older women were standing only feet away. They gave you sympathetic looks. One held a bundle of clean clothes. The other lifted a bucket as she stepped forward.

The chilled water was splashed over you again. You gave another shout as it stung your naked skin. "Stop!" You demanded.

"You will be cleansed," the bucket wielding woman told you with an air of authority. She was obviously the one in charge. The other only bowed her head.

"Let me go, you old bat!"

"Bah!" She stepped over and smacked you hard across the face. It stung worse than the Arctika water. "You are in no position to give me orders! You are a prisoner of the Lin Kuei!"

"Fuck the Lin Kuei!" You hissed. But it only got you smacked again.

"You will respect the Lin Kuei! It is because of the Lin Kuei that you have been allowed to continue breathing."

"I'd rather die than be your prisoner."

"If you keep speaking, you may get your wish," The elder woman spat. She turned and gestured to the other woman to come forward. "You will change into these clothes."

"I will run."

"Where to?" She looked back to you. "Look around. You are in the dungeon. The door to this cell is locked from the outside where two guards stand. You can not run."

"Then I will fight."

"Then you will die," the woman said. She took the clothes from the other woman, who then hurried to unlock the chains from the your wrists. Being freed, you shifted your gaze between the two. They didn't look like fighters. You might have been able to take them… but what of the guards on the other side of that door?

The clothes were thrusted into your chest. Instinctively you held them. "Change. Now," the older woman ordered impatiently.

You stood there, staring at the two. The quiet one gave you a pleading look. You unfolded the clothes, finding them to be a simple blue hanfu. You quickly slipped into it, thankful once you had. Your shivering nearly stopped as the hanfu held in some body heat. You were handed a sash and quickly secured it around your waist, keeping the clothing closed around you. A simple pair of slippers were dropped at your feet. You stepped into them, surprised that they had fit correctly.

Seeing as they were cleaning and clothing you, it seemed unlikely that they were planning to kill you. And the hanfu, while simple, was good quality… much nicer than the rags your old masters had given you. You felt out of place already.

“You will not speak unless asked to,” The older woman told you. Your brows knotted to her, but her soul piercing glare cut through you. You looked away, to the stone floor, and nodded silently. You may have been able to fend off some of the Lin Kuei, but you were no match for that stronger one that had shown up back in your village. “Good.” She sighed in some relief that you had quickly learned your place. “Did your old masters give you a name?” She asked.

You shook your head. “My parents named me. Y/N.”

The woman hesitated. “A shame.” You looked up with confusion. “It is a pretty name, but it is no longer yours,” she explained. “Your new master may wish to give you a new name.”

You jaw hardened.

“Your old life is dead. Do you hear me, girl?”

You nodded, feeling a knot grow in the pit of your stomach.

“Whatever attachment you had to your old life, has been severed.”

You nodded again.

“Now, come here,” The woman said. You turned and she gripped your arms tight. She caught your eyes with hers and frowned. “I know this is difficult, but it will be easier if you just do what you are told. The Lin Kuei are not as cruel as your old masters have led you to believe. However, the Lin Kuei are harsh in their expectations.” She gave you a small shake and straightened your posture up. “Which clan are you from?”

“The Snow Ninjas,” you answered, letting your eyes drift back down to the floor.

She caught your chin firmly and tilted your head up to make you look back to her. “Are women treated well in The Snow Ninjas clan?”

Your jaw hardened and you shook your head.

She sighed. “And yet, you have such a mouth… Be wise and watch your words. We are not treated well here either. We are servants and comfort women. Some are prized for their beauty. Those with desirable traits and abilities are often used to continue bloodlines.

Your jaw hurt as you further clenched it.

“I can see beyond those bruises and scars on your face… You have been blessed with beauty. Do everything in your power to retain it for as long as possible. Your life will be easier here if you do.” She sighed heavily and brushed a stray clinging hair behind your ear. “Do you understand?”

You nodded.

“Good. Now, let’s get you upstairs and tend to these cuts.”

As much as you hated being in the Lin Kuei’s little village, you would admit that it was rather… cozy. As the two women led you along the courtyard that you had been so unceremoniously dumped on earlier, you noticed eyes on you. Servants and Assassins alike were curious of Sub-Zero’s new slave. Apparently, he’d never agreed to have one before--not his own anyway. He was a very private man. Of course everyone was wondering why he’d decided to keep you.

You were led to a small cottage just outside the courtyard. Lily, you’d since learned the name of the older woman, opened the door which you were surprised to see was unlocked. “He is not here at the moment, but you are expected. Come,” She waved you over. You stepped into the house and froze at the sight. Apparently Sub-Zero had never learned to use a broom… How could the man live like this? Everything was strewn about. Walking through with Lily, even the small kitchen was piled with objects that did not belong. He obviously did little cooking, if at all. Lily sighed at the sight, as if this wasn’t the first time she’d seen this mess.

“This man, I swear,” she mumbled and shook her head, casting shame to the chaos. You couldn’t help but grin at her reaction. “Well, I suppose you ought to clean up a bit.” Your grin faded. You turned your head to look at her nervously. She placed a hand on your shoulder and gave it a little squeeze. “Good luck, dear. And remember what I’ve told you. And don’t be getting any ideas about running off. There is nothing around here for hundreds of miles. You’ll freeze to death before making it anywhere.”

You frowned at the idea of not being able to get to safety. “Thank you…” You watched her step away and out the door. She closed it behind her, leaving you in the strange pig-sty of a home. This would take hours to sort through.

Stars shimmered in the sky by the time Sub-Zero came home. Stepping in, he pulled his mask from his face and tossed it onto the side table—

The side table that used to be right there…

Now his mask was on the floor. He stared at it in confusion before looking up. His mess--his things… They were gone! His jaw hardened. Had he been robbed? Who would dare to rob him?!

A strange, but enticing scent wafted to his nose. It filled his house. Meat? Spices? Food? His brows knotted as he stepped further into his home. He stepped around a corner to see a woman in the kitchen. That’s when he remembered you--his new servant. His shoulders relaxed, mentally kicking himself for having forgotten about you. He watched you silently until you caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye.

You froze, not sure what to say… or do. You recognized his eyes. That was the man who easily overwhelmed you back home. Of course he would be your new master... What did the Lin Kuei expect of their servants? Lily hadn’t told you many details. Were you even supposed to be cooking? You supposed you were about to find out.

He stepped towards you, eyeing you up and down for only a moment before he followed his nose to the pot in the hearth. You couldn’t read his face as he peeked inside, but he hadn’t shouted. That was good, right?

Bi-Han hadn’t ever come home to a hot meal. Of course he’d eaten hot food, usually in the palace’s dining hall where some other Lin Kuei got their meals. But never in his own home--from his own kitchen. A surprise, but an interesting one. And his home… it was spotless!

“Where are my things?” He asked slowly, almost accusingly as he straightened from the pot to look at you.

You were all kinds of tense looking into his eyes. You opened your mouth to answer, but hesitated for a second. “I… cleaned,” you said pathetically. Of course you’d cleaned. That wasn’t what he’d asked at all. “I organized…” You’d corrected yourself. “What are you looking for, Master?”

His eyes flinched hearing that last word. That would take some getting used to. “Show me,” he told you.

Your brows knotted. Show him… what? Where everything was? “Oh… Yes, Master.” You bowed your head and cautiously stepped towards the cabinets. Opening them, you showed him where all the eatery was. Another cabinet held herbs and spices. Pots and pans hung over the hearth. In the small hallway, a narrow table had an oil lamp placed on it, in its drawer were small odds and ends. The sitting room, the furniture had all been cleared off and cleaned. Bi-Han silently wondered when he had acquired a hardwood sofa. You showed him the closet, which had the broom he also hadn’t realized he’d had. Wooden boxes lined the walls, full of various things, trinkets he’d gotten on missions--treasures. Led to the bedroom, he was surprised to see his bed had been made. His dresser had been straightened out, his clean clothes folded neatly, each type having its own drawer. And his closet… The weapons and armor he’d collected over the years were neatly displayed, ready to grab at a moment’s notice. You were certainly earning your keep already.

“I apologize that I have not had time yet to tend to your laundry,” you spoke cautiously, flinching in anticipation of some sort of punishment… But it didn’t come. You relaxed as he stepped away. Your brows rose curiously. “Master?”

“You will have plenty of time tomorrow,” he said, walking out of his room and heading for the kitchen. You followed him quickly as relief washed over you. You had already planned to do his laundry tonight, but tomorrow was a welcomed idea. “What is this?” He asked, pointing to the hearth as he sat at the table.

“Nothing impressive. Again, my apologies. I only had time for a quick stew.”

Bi-Han hid his amusement. You had said it wasn’t impressive, but to him, it was. In the time since you’d been brought to his home, you had done more than he had expected. Much more. Obviously you were a skilled servant. “Is it done?” He asked.

A panic surged through you. You hurried forward. Of course. He must have been hungry. You hadn’t seen him since you were brought to the Lin Kuei. You weren’t sure if he had eaten all day. You quickly grabbed a bowl and spoon. You filled the bowl and brought it to him, bowing your head as you placed it on the table in front of him.

That may have been the best stew Bi-Han had ever tasted.

[aliasimagines]

One Hell of a Night // Luke Patterson

a/n: HAPPY HALLOWEEN Y'ALL, it officially passed midnight here.Are you guys going to celebrate Halloween at home? And if so are you going to dress up? Tell me all about it lovelies, I wanna hear it ❤️. prompt 18 nad 15 from this list🎃 this fic is chaotic, hope you enjoy😊

word count: 2692

warnings: a few (three i think?) curse words, and a..uhm a line of dirty talking (I'm sorry I'm not like this all the time I promise 😅) and scary stories

The dry, colorful autumn leaves creaked under hiking boots as you walked into the woods. A smile appeared on your face as you heard some noises. Only a few seconds later you spotted the source. The Sunset Curve. The boys worked on getting the campfire lit while joking and laughing loudly. You stopped by a tree and leaned against it. Alex just hit Reggie on the back for just sitting around and not helping with putting logs and dry leaves on the fireplace. Thanks to Alex, Reggie swallowed the huge marshmello he had in his mouth and started coughing. 

Bobby was trying to light his lighter again and again but it just didn't work. That's when Luke threw a pack of matches at him causing the rhythm guitarist to stumble back and fall into a pile of leaves. You started laughing quietly and walked up to them.

"That wasn't nice of you, babe." you said from behind Luke. He jumped, not noticing you creeping up on him.

"BAH! I almost got a heart attack, y/n!" he shouts pouting. You giggled and placed a small kiss on his cheek. 

"That's what you get for not waiting for me." you smirk. Luke looks down embarrassed and goes to scrape the back of his head. 

"Yeah…Sorry about that. I was too eager to set up the camp." he gestured at the two tents. Both were full of blankets and pillows. It looked super comfortable. You also spotted his acoustic guitar, and a whole bunch of food in you guys' tent. 

"You did a great job."you smiled before walking over to the other boys." Hi guys! What's up?"

"Y/N! Finally! Tell Alex to stop hitting me!" yelled Reggie. You shook your head laughing. 

“Stop being so childish than Reginald!”

“Boys, come on!! It is halloween, have some fun!” and with that you fished out a huge bag of candy from your backpack and threw it into Reggie’s hands. He looked up at you like you were some kind of miracle maker. 

“Is this..is this all candy?” the dark haired boy asked, still in awe. You laughed, nodding your head slightly. 

“Yeah. I don’t really want to think about how much money I spent on sweets.” 

Soon after everyone got to work (this time for real) and the fire was lit in no time. Just as it started to get darker. All five of you sat around the campfire. You sat next to Luke, opposed to  Reggie and Alex. Bobby sat beside them in a camping chair. Thanks to the warm californian weather you didn’t need jackets just yet, despite being the end of october.

"It's getting dark. I think we could get started on the ghost stories?" asked Bobby looking up at the sky then around the little clearing in the woods where your tents were set up. Reggie munched on some candy corns but immediately stopped upon hearing those words. 

"Ghost stories? Don't mind if I do." he sat his candies aside and prepared to tell a story that would send shivers down your spines. You leaned over to Luke, placing your head on his shoulder. He looked down at you with a smile before turning his attention back to the bassist. 

"One day, a little boy, while walking around the woods, found a big toe on the ground. He ran home with it and-" 

"-his mom cooked it in the soup which revolted in the toe's owner haunting them." you suddenly cut Reggie off. He gasps, offended. 

"What? I knew the story. Was I supposed to just sit around?" you ask, earning a soft laugh from Luke. Reggie huffed and gestured at you. 

"Alright then, take it away y/n. See if you can do better."

"Not to be that person but she definitely can. You only said like two sentences." Alex jumped in, not wanting to miss an opportunity to roast his friend. 

"Because she cut me off!!" 

The woods, once again erupted with the boys' laughter as you stared into the fire, waiting for them to quiet down so you can start your story. 

"I was only a small kid when this happened, around five,maybe six, but I still remember it like it was yesterday. My mother was out of town for the weekend because of her work, so naturally, it was my father who read me a bedtime story in the evening. Everything was great, he was reading from my favorite book but right before he could finish the chapter we heard a quiet tapping noise from downstairs. My father looked puzzled and put his finger against his lips, signaling me to stay quiet so he could listen. The tapping didn't stop, it got louder before turning into banging and a final loud crash which sounded like the front door flying open. I looked at my father, scared to death, not knowing what to do." you kept your voice low, your face straight and never removed your eyes from the fire."He grabbed me and quickly ran with me to the small bathroom that was connected to my room. He instructed me to lock my door and only open it when he says so. I don't know what happened after that, but heard my father going down and some muffled noises before hearing him climb back up the stairs. I remember his voice. It was just so nice and comforting. He said it was a false alarm and I could come out. I reached for the doorknob but then he leaned down and looked inside through the keyhole. My little hands stopped midair. I kept staring at his eyes. He repeated that it was safe to come out and that everything was fine. But I did not believe him. Because that wasn't my father. He sounded exactly like him, but his eyes… They were a different color. Not my father's welcoming eye color. So I just stood there. For minutes. Maybe hours. He wouldn't stop talking, reassuring me but I still didn't unlock the door."

Reggie leaned forward with a worried and scared expression.  

"What happened next?" 

You lifted your gaze, slowly to look at the spooked boy. 

"He started tapping. It sounded just like it did on the front door. And it wasn't long before he started banging his hand against the wood." 

"Oh my god.." Reggie whispers. 

"He is hitting harder and harder until finally the door breaks and flies open. And the creature, no longer looking or sounding like my father, rather like a tall bloodied figure with sharp teeth, jumps at me, opening his huge mouth and SWALLOWS ME WHOLE." you shout the last part causing Reggie to scream and the others to jump just a little. 

"Fuuckk, i think I peed myself!" exclaims Reggie. You only laugh, seeing all the boys being a bit paler. 

"So who's next?" 

"I'll go." Luke said beside you and you shifted away from him, knowing that he will need the space to gesture along his story. You watched as he started to speak. His expression changes with every sentence as he introduces his characters. His frown as he talks about a creepy night in the woods. Your eyes wander down to his lips, too busy just staring at them to actually listen to the words that make them move. You distantly hear various curse words from the guys as your boyfriend goes deeper into detail with his horrifying story. With eyes still glued to Luke, you smile slightly. 

"../n...y/n...Y/N!" you hear making you jump and almost falling backwards on the log you have been sitting on. You see all the guys staring at you. 

"How are you not scared? Did you not hear Luke's story?" Reggie asks, earning a knowing laugh from Alex. 

"No, she did not. She was too busy staring at his lips." as your friend's words hit your ears you feel your face heating up. 

"Dude..,alright I might have zoomed out. A bit but I am here now. Where were you, babe?" 

Luke looks at you, amused. 

"I finished like 3 minutes ago. You 'zoomed out' for legit 20 minutes." 

Looking up at the sky, you realized they were right because it got pitch black since you last looked up. Your lips curved into an 'o' shape before mumbling a sorry.. 

“We should put more wood on the fire. It's starting to weaken.” says Reggie. Bobby points into the dark woods.

“Suit yourself, man.” 

“What? I am not going alone. Someone come with me.” he whines. Alex visibly changes his posture and sits into a more comfortable position.Luke puts his muscular arm around your shoulder grinning.

“You’re on your own, man.”

“No! Please??”

You bite back a laugh and carefully remove Luke’s arm from you. 

“Alright, I’ll go with you.” 

“Thank you!You are amazing!” 

You grab the basket ,that’s been laying on the ground, for the twigs. You also reach into your bag for your flashlight. 

“Ok, I’m ready to go.” you step towards Reggie but Luke grabs your hand and places a small kiss on it. 

“Be careful, love.”

“Always.”

The two of you start walking towards the woods.

“Try not to pee yourselfs guys!” Alex calls after you in a sing-song voice.

“Ha ha, very funny Alex.”

To be honest you were a little spooked but didn’t show it.Not like Reggie who was literally shaking beside you and jumped up at every little noise he heard as you got further into the woods. You picked up a few sticks and bigger twigs, slowly filling the basket with them. Or rather, you tried but when Reggie stoped right in front of you you accidentally dropped it spilling the stuff everywhere.

“Dude! I am trying to help you here!”

“Shhhhh! Didn’t you hear that?” he whispers, voice panicked. 

“Come on, Reg. This isn’t going to work on me.”

He turns to look at you.

“No, y/n! I am serious! I heard a whisper! I’m sure of it!”

You roll your eyes, not believing your friend.

“You gotta be more convincing next time. I dont scare that easily..AH” just as you assured Reginald how it takes more for you to get spooked, someone, or something grabbed you from behind and started to pull you while shouting ‘WAA’. The flashlight landed on the ground too as you let out a bloodcurdling scream. You kicked your attacker(s?) wherever you could. 

“Ahh! WHoo, stop, it’s just us.” you suddenly hear your boyfriend's voice and feel the arms around you letting go. You turned around your fear vanishing and turning into anger.

Reggie behind you falls on the ground,clutching his chest while he tries not to cry.

“ARE YOU GUYS INSANE?!” you shout at Luke and Booby. Alex is nowhere to be seen, he probably stayed next the fire to keep an eye on your stuff. Luke's eyes immediately  widen upon hearing you raise your voice.

“I..I am sorry we thought-”

“What?! Lucas Patterson I am, so, so mad at you right now” you say shaking. You hear Bobby giggle quietly. You snap your head in his direction. “And don't even get me started on you Bobby...Bobby..uhm” you stop to think about his surname, only to realise you don’t know it. For a moment you let go of your anger. “What is your surname?”

He only scoffs and smiles. Alex must have heard the shouting and come to investigate with a flashlight in one hand and a drumstick (as a weapon?) in his other.He soon puts them down tho as he sees that you are all in one piece. Luke looks at Bobby with a puzzled expression.

“That is actually creepy, cause I don’t know it either.”

“What?! How? He has been in a band for, what? A year and a half? And you never actually asked his last name?” you ask, more interested in the mystery of Bobby’s name than shouting at them now. Luke shrugs.

“Do you even have a last name?” you hear Reggie asking from the ground. You all turn to him with questioning looks.

“Everyone has a last name Reginald.” says Alex.

“Not celtic gods, no.” he responds.

“What?” Luke exclaims clearny not understanding the bassist.

“Bobby is not a god.” says the drummer annoyed. “ He is a normal teenager like us.”

“Is he tho?”

Meanwhile Bobby leans back against a tree and stares at Reggie.

“You are creeping me out...Please stop creeping me out oh majestic god of...what are you the god of?”

Booby just smiles mysteriously. 

“Oh for f…’s sake.Y/N back me up here, there are no gods and even if there were, Bobby is not one of them.”

“Thanks Alex but I am not offending a celtic god.”

“What is wrong with you guys?!”

Luke doesn’t know who to look at in this chaos. Soon he decides to pick up the twigs and collect more while you, Reggie and Alex argue whether Bobby is a god or not. Bobby bends down too, to help the lead singer.

“You do know my name is actually Wilson, right?” 

“Yeah. Of course I do, I think Reggie does too, he just forgot.” the two boys laugh. 

You all walk back to the camp and Booby, upon seeing Reggie still looking at him suspiciously walks over to him.

“I am not an ancient god, you know.”

“That is exactly what I would say too.”

Not hearing Reggie’s nonsense reminds you of what Luke did so when you feel him wrapping his arms around you, you push him away.

“I sorry, bae. I was an asshole. I shouldn’t have. Please look at me?” he stands before you so there is no way you can avoid him.

“Don’t do this again.” you said with a firm tone. You can't help but smile, seeing Luke’s shit eating grin. He opens his arms once again but waits for you to hug him first. You do, and for minutes you just stand there in his embrace. The silence was broken by the familiar sound of the acoustic guitar which was followed by Reggie’s voice as he started to play some country song. 

“Dude, no, put down my guitar.”Luke ran off to get his instrument or to, at least convince him to play ‘normal’ music. You laugh and walk over to Alex and Bobby.

“Hey, y/n, I am sorry about scaring you.”

You wave your hand. 

“It’s fine. However don’t be surprised when I get back at you.” you say before sitting down next to Reggie and giving him a hug because let’s be honest he was pretty traumatised in the woods too.

“Woo,hey! Why does he get a hug?” Luke asks, upset he couldn’t change Reggies mind about playing country songs. And from the fact that his girlfriend was hugging him.

“Maybe because you decided that it was a funny idea to scare the living shit out of him and I.”

“Stop guilt tripping me.” he pulls you up and away from the fire, closer to the tents. ”I said I am sorry. And you are right, I shouldn’t  have scared you. Besides…” he leaned closer to your ear “I know more fun ways to make you scream.”

You gasp upon hearing his words and right when you are about to react Alex walks by casually. 

“No, no. With the tents it’s like we are sleeping next to each other. If you guys try anything I will murder you myself.”

Both of you look after him, blushing before breaking into laughter.

Luke’s watch showed 3:58 when you all agreed to call it a night.You put out the fire with the help of Bobby while Luke went to pack away the trash you all left out.

Reggie yawned and looked up at Alex.

“I am still pretty scared...Can I cuddle you Alex?”

He looks at him like he heard it wrong.

“Absolutely not.”

“What about you Bobby?”

“No way, Reg.”

Despite them saying this, all three of them woke up hugging each other in the morning.

[silverarmedassassin]

Clandestine Meetings - One

Actor!Bucky x Reader | Word Count: 2488 | Warnings: None

A/N: Listen, I know I said this would be posted in "about an hour," but I have no self-control and it must be posted NOW.

Sorry for the delay in getting this out! I was having a bit of block. Thank you for reading and, if you feel so inclined, please let me know what you think!❤️ If you want to be tagged, please send me a message or enter your url here!

Dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics

[ Previous | Masterlist | Next ]

It’s 10:30 by the time your boss stumbles into the office. Pepper Potts is usually the embodiment of poised and put together - sleek strawberry blonde hair either falling over her shoulders in beautiful waves or tied in a high ponytail; black pencil skirts and white blouses tucked neatly inside. But not today.

While the ponytail still sits high on her head, dark circles taint her usually smooth, pristine complexion. She’s fisting a to-go mug in one hand and her office mug in the other, already steaming with a fresh round of caffeine.

You hated days like these; mornings after Tony keeps her out late - either business or pleasure, you never know as you prefer not to pry into your bosses’ personal lives - were always interesting, to say the least. Pepper was never mean, and you were almost positive there wasn’t an unkind bone in her body. She was just off. And if she was off, it means you were off, resulting in your job being about one hundred times harder as you often had to play the roles of both assistant and editor.

“Good morning, Ms. Potts,” you finally greet as she sits down at her desk. She’s rummaging through her bag, growing more irritable as the seconds pass. She sighs before stopping to look up at you.

“Y/N, please. It’s been six months. Just call me Pepper.” You internally scoff at the insistence of being anything less than professional towards one of the smartest women you’ve ever encountered in your life, and she turns back to her treasure hunt. “Don’t tell me I left my laptop at home,” she whines to herself as she slumps down into her large executive chair.

You clear your throat as you shuffle forward, computer in hand. “You had me take down to IT to get your files backed up, remember?” you smile as you deposit the device on the cherry-oak desk.

Pepper returns the smile and shakes her head. “Honestly, I don’t understand how I functioned before you.” She slides the laptop across the desk and opens it. While she waits for the software to boot up, she starts her typical morning rapid-fire session. “Did I miss any calls before I came in?”

“No, it’s been pretty q-word this morning.” You vowed never to say “quiet” while in the office. It somehow always jinxed your days, resulting in everyone and their mother calling within twenty minutes.

“E-mails?”

“The chef you’ve been in contact with sent over his schedule for the next few months. It’s looking like the best time to meet is early next month if you want to get the feature done in time for the winter edition.” Pepper opens her mouth to fire another question, but you’re one step ahead of her. “I’ve already blocked out a date in your calendar and sent the invite to his team.”

A soft smile graces the woman’s face as she scribbles notes in her daybook. “And what does my schedule look like for today?”

You sort through the mental files that contain minute-to-minute information regarding your boss’s workday. “You’re pretty booked. You have that photoshop with James Barnes at noon, and after-”

“Shit,” Pepper mummers, cutting you off. Panic quickly settles into her features. “Why does Tony do this? Barnes is impossible to book for anything. I can’t miss this….”

“Uh, no, you can’t,” you practically screech as you fix your boss with a wild look. “This photoshoot has been on your schedule since before I even started. And the time you have set up with him next week doesn’t allow for a full interview, photoshoot, and get material for the short online feature.” You try not to let the panic come out in your voice, but this is precisely the kind of incident you were hired to prevent.

Pepper gently closes her laptop and sets her features in a serious look. “Listen, I think you’re doing a great job here, and you’ve grown so much within the few months you’ve been on the team.” You eye her suspiciously, wondering if this was your ‘you’re fired’ speech. If so, it was definitely coming out of left field. “Why don’t you take my place at the shoot today? If Tony hadn’t promised I’d be in attendance for this investor meeting today, I’d have you go to that instead. But,” the blonde sighs deeply before continuing, “Tony has no regard for anyone’s schedule, and this is an important meeting.”

Your stomach drops from the 44th floor you’re currently on down to ground level. You’d never been on a set before, let alone one with someone as big as James. Plus, you’d only been on a handful of mid-sized interviews. How did she expect you to do this by yourself?

“Pepper, I…”

“I know what you’re going to say. You’re going to try and tell me that you’re not ready and that you can’t possibly clear your schedule for the afternoon. But if I didn’t think you were capable of holding your own, you wouldn’t even be sitting here with ‘assistant editor’ in front of your name. You have the skillset; you just need to show that you can use it. I know you don’t want to be an assistant forever.”

You anxiously bite your lip, feelings of inadequacy and anxiousness filling your senses.

“I don’t even know this James guy…” you say, defeated.

“Well, the car doesn’t arrive for another,” she looks down at her phone, “forty-five minutes. You better get reading.”

“We really need to bring you into the twenty-first century,” Natasha, Bucky’s manager, says as the first notes of My Funny Valentine start dancing through today’s set.

Following the too-bright flash of the camera, Bucky blinks the starbursts out of his eyes and tries to set the redhead with as stern of a look as possible. “Don’t you dare diss Mr. Sinatra. He’s a classic. A legend!” He watches as a stylist runs up and begins fussing with his hair.

Natasha just rolls her eyes and goes back to scrolling through her phone. As much as she acts annoyed with him - and his insistence of having at least two dozen 40’s songs on every photoshoot playlist - he knew she wouldn’t trade him for the world. They had a long history pre-dating the entertainment industry, and she was damn good at her job. If it wasn’t for Nat, Bucky’s not sure his current agency would have even signed him.

As the stylist finishes up her poking and prodding, the photographer - who Bucky has already forgotten the name of - begins shouting out directions from behind the camera. Pose this way. Turn that way. Make it look like you want to be here. It takes everything in Bucky not to grimace - both at the consistent reconfiguring he has to do to his body and the loud rumble that echoes through his stomach. The shirtless pictures they were shooting today caused him - against his better judgment - to forgo breakfast and, with nothing but too-weak black coffee in his system, Bucky couldn’t help but feel a little agitated.

“Just a few more shots, and then we can break for lunch,” he hears the man behind the camera shout before dragging the camera back up to his face.

Bucky contorts himself into a position that shows off the abs he’s worked incredibly hard to achieve and maintain and masks his face in the perfect moody smolder these magazines love so much. Three more pops of the shutter, some grumbling and direction by the photographer, and one more position change, and he’s finally free.

As he’s looking at the pictures and throwing a robe over his bare torso and boxer-clad bottom, Bucky’s attention is pulled from the camera’s tiny screen to the back of the spacious room by Natasha’s stern, Russian-lilted voice. The accent only came out when she was agitated, so the sound alone is often used as a warning sign to those closest to her to stay away.

“How did you even get up here? Is there no security in place? I swear-”

Bucky turns to find his manager - all five-foot-three inches of her - standing defensively in front of whomever she’s cornered by the elevator.

“As I said, I’m here in place of Ms. Potts.” Bucky perks up at the second voice; is almost positive he recognizes the sweet melody despite having only encountered it once several months before. “Here, look, I have my badge.”

Sure enough, as Bucky scurries over to the duo, he sees a familiar face anxiously looking at his manager. He might be terrible with names, but Bucky Barnes rarely forgets a face.

“Natasha, why do you insist on harassing every person who sets foot within a five-foot radius of me while on the job?” Bucky jokes as he approaches the women.

He watches as your attention shifts from the annoyed redhead to him; a look of shock and maybe a hint of mortification flashes across your face.

“I wasn’t harassing. This is a closed set, and randos from the street can’t just walk on up,” Natasha rolls her eyes. “And it’s not you I’m worried about. It’s...you. But you know what I mean!”

He does. After all, protecting his privacy and work is one of Bucky’s most significant concerns. That doesn't mean he isn’t going to tease Natasha any chance he gets. He playfully scoffs and turns his attention to you. “I see you got the job. I told you everything was going to work out.”

Bucky can’t help but preen at the way you anxiously tuck a non-existent stray hair behind your ear and bite your lip. “You were right. Mr. Stark isn’t as intimidating as I thought. Although,” you playfully roll your eyes, “he is a menace. He promised Pepper’s attendance at a meeting, so now you’re stuck with an inexperienced interviewer rather than the queen of journalism.”

“Bah!” Bucky exclaims. “I’m sure you’ll do great. Plus, you’re not the one half-naked in the situation. If anyone embarrasses themselves, it’ll be me.”

Natasha chortles at the comment, mumbling something the sounds a lot like, “ever the charmer,” before walking away. At the same time, Bucky doesn’t miss the way your gaze slowly skims down his cotton-clade body before snapping back up to his face.

“Come on. We just broke for lunch, and Stark spares no expense when it comes to the spreads.”

It’s well past six-thirty in the evening when you finally make it back to your building. Despite the exhaustion flowing through your veins and the grumble in your stomach reminding you every five minutes that you haven’t eaten since lunchtime, there’s a festive air to your being, a proverbial pep to your step that could only be the result of a successful first interview experience.

Yeah, you were a nervous wreck before and during the interview, but you walked away feeling amazing about yourself - and with three pages worth of phenomenal, touching, and personal quotes from the one and only Bucky Barnes.

You try to ignore the butterflies that erupt low in your belly at the thought of the blue-eyed god of a man. Despite having no other experience interviewing someone with as large of a celebrity as he, you’ve concluded that Bucky is an angel of an interviewee. He was polite, answered all of your questions, and flirted just a little. Or, at least that’s what you would call it if you were anyone but a lowly editorial assistant who still purchased from bargain bins because that’s all you could afford. In all reality, Bucky was a very smooth talker with the confidence to back it up. It explained the incomprehensible hype surrounding the man you had no idea was such a big deal less than twelve hours prior.

The rumble of your stomach pulls you back to reality as you unlock your apartment door. You push the thoughts of Bucky to the back of your mind, settle for finishing unpacking the day for when you’re unwinding for bed. Right now, all you want to focus on is fo-

“Uh, hello!” your roommate Wanda screeches as you push open the door. The redhead is standing, arms crossed, in your entry, a look of disdain on her face. “When were you going to tell me, your best friend and roommate, who pays half the rent and utilities, mind you, that Bucky Barnes followed you on Instagram. James Bucky Barnes, Y/N!”

You freeze at the mention of the man who has taken up every inch of your mind since you left the shoot earlier that day. You deposit your keys onto the small table next to the door and try to act as nonchalant as possible. “What are you talking about, Wanda?”

Your roommate starts wagging her phone in front of your face before pulling it back so she can read off her screen. “Well, I follow these gossip blogs - just for fun, of course. I like to stay up-to-date with all the celebrity goings-on.” You fix Wanda with an unamused look as you pass by on the way to the kitchen. “And I was scrolling through, catching up on today’s gossip, and all of a sudden, I see a screenshot of your Instagram account!”

You freeze mid-reach for a saucepan and turn to look at her. “What?”

“Yea, see,” Wanda holds her phone out so you can see the screen. Low and behold, there your account is; questionably composed landscape shots of the city and poorly-lit food pics in all their glory. “It started to circulate this afternoon after someone saw he followed you! Why did he follow you?”

You slowly resume your task of reheating last night’s spaghetti as you answer her. “I...I don’t know? I met him at work this afternoon. He probably just followed me because of Stark.” You shrug despite the thrill that runs through your body.

You halfheartedly listen as Wanda blabs on about the crush she’s apparently had for years despite never having once mentioned it to you, too focused on running through the day’s events to care much about how she’s seen every single one of his films at least a dozen times.

Maybe he had been flirting with you? His manager did mention he flirts with anything with a heartbeat, so it was most likely just part of his personality. Or at least the role he played in public. You weren’t naive enough to think that who Bucky presented himself as to the media, fans, and others not in his inner circle was the real Bucky. After all, he was likely just trying to win you over so you’d write something good about him.

Still, you can’t help the giddy smile that creeps across your face as, when you finally lie down for the night, you open the Instagram app to find Bucky’s name and verified status among the several notifications awaiting you.

@redbarn1995 @juenenfeu

[bookstantrash]

A/N: Just saw that I hit 200 followers! I didn’t expect that even in my wildest dreams, so thank you so much for those of you who follow me, like/retweet my posts!! 🥰

Thanks aside, enjoy this chapter! I ended up not making it as angst as I intended it to be, so lucky you!

In which she makes a friend, Part Eight

Cassian’s headache was going to kill him.

The past week had been exhausting. Azriel had left only a day ago, leaving Cassian with more work and more troubled thoughts regarding the advance of the rebels.

At least now he had something to occupy his time during his sleepless nights, preferring to work instead of simply staring at his bedroom’s wall until the first rays of sunrise appeared.

Cassian was also worried about Kaelin. The young Illyrian had dismissed Nesta’s worried look, simply stating that his hair had been bothering him and that a few bruises were common. He had only been unfortunate enough to receive most of the blows on his face.

Both Cassian and Azriel had confirmed Kaelin’s words, but he had caught Nesta whispering with the young Illyrian when they thought nobody was looking, and Cassian was starting to get worried that Kaelin was hiding something.

Nesta also occupied his thoughts. Now more than ever.

Although she had actually sided with Azriel, both messing with him non stop — Azriel’s dark humour having surprisingly matched perfectly with Nesta’s ironic one — Cassian would see how she sometimes appeared to be lost in thought, becoming a little quieter once in a while, no doubt with her mind busy with Kaelin.

Cassian had to discover what was happening. He had to make sure that Nesta’s rare and easy smiles — even the way her stormy blue eyes softened more than less nowadays — would not disappear. She deserved all the happiness in the world. As did Kaelin.

But first, he had to rid himself of the nasty headache that had been bothering him all day.

“Now I know why Azriel rubs his temple so often” Cassian thought as he made his way for the healers tents, rubbing his own temple in a vain attempt to ease the pounding inside his head.

As he walked further into the tent, the smell of different herbs assaulted him, and Cassian took a deep breath, an expecting scent he could not name laying a blanket of calmness over him, easing his pain.

“Somebody give me some salt! An evil spirit has arrived!” Cassian heard a familiar grumpy voice shout.

“I missed you too Esmée” he said, stopping near the table where the matron of the healers appeared to be making a complicate looking potion.

“Bah, missed me! You missed coming here and charming my healers to give you extra bandages to wrap your fists, that’s what happened” Esmée replied, snorting.

“You usually need to wrap your hands or else they’ll get hurt even more. Am I wrong ladies?” Cassian playfully said, winking at one of the healers, who blushed.

“Hurt hands!! As if!” Esmée indignantly exclaimed “You are one vain warrior who does it for the aesthetics in four out of five cases!”

“And stop flirting with my healers! You’re distracting them!” she added, hitting him on the head with the small wooden stick she used to grind the herbs.

Cassian gave a surprised yelp, earning giggles from the healers.

“Great, now I’ll have a pump in the morning along with a headache” he thought, massaging his head.

“Esmée” Cassian charmingly tried, giving the old female his best puppy eyes “Uyara of the healers”

“Flattery will not get you anywhere kunumim” she huffed, but Cassian could see her eyes shining with secret delight.

Uyara meant Lady, owner and even dominant in the Illyrian tong. And Cassian may use flattery, but he was no liar while doing it. Esmée was the best healer the Illyrians had. She knew secrets long lost, passed only from matron to matron of camp. And her abilities were just as legendary. She truly was the Lady of the Healers.

“This time I did not come here to ask for bandages” Cassian said “I was wondering if you had any herbs for headaches. Mine is killing me”

Esmée surprised Cassian by raising her hands and cupping his cheeks, bringing his face down so she could inspect it.

“You have dark shadows under your eyes. Your eyes are tired, and you are a little anaemic” the old healer’s voice got unusually soft, maternal concern lacing it “You work too much. Have you been having trouble sleeping kunumim?”

Cassian felt his chest tighten a bit at Esmée’s words.

It had been a long time since someone had noticed how tired he felt beneath his happy facade. Since someone had cared to stop and really look at him.

Cassian loved his family. But even around them he felt the need to keep up the appearances.

He had to be the funny one. The one always there to make sure everyone was happy and comfortable.

Cassian sometimes wanted to scream. Wanted to cry and complain.

Wanted someone to hug him and let him slip his mask off.

Wanted someone who loved him enough to hear his troubles.

But Cassian could not afford to be selfish right now.

He had a camp to take care of.

“I’m fine Uyara” smiling weakly, Cassian gently took her hands off his face, squeezing them in reassurance.

Esmée clicked her tong in annoyance, her mean and grumpy attitude back in an instant, as if she was not worried at all about him.

“Lucky for you,” Esmée said, motioning for him to follow her to the back of the tent “we have recently made some painkiller tonics”

Her next words, however, got lost when Cassian smelled that calming scent again.

Closer now, he could clearly smell lavender and vanilla, a familiar scent.

And that’s when he saw her.

Nesta, an apron tied over her dark green dress, her sleeves pushed back — Cassian caught himself staring at her bare forearms and resisting the urge to run his fingertips softly against her milky skin — and brows knotted in concentration while she filled some vials.

“Nesta, grab two of those vials and pack them for this headstrong Commander”

At Esmée’s words, Nesta raised her head and looked in their direction, stormy blue eyes widening slightly when she spotted Cassian beside the healer.

“So this is where she disappears to everyday after lunch”

Nesta quickly recomposed herself, effortlessly filling the small glass flasks and placing them in a little pouch, Cassian not taking his eyes off of her for a single moment.

Esmée huffed in approval, but when Nesta tried to hand it to her, the healer refused it.

“You also need to rest. You think I did not see you dozing off? Or the way you were blinking heavily while mixing the herbs?”

Cassian’s attention peaked at that, and he noticed the shadows underneath Nesta’s eyes. They were faint, fainter than his, but they were still there.

“I’m fine Esmée” Nesta strongly argued, not backing off.

“You’re off duties until you’ve had some sleep and that’s final” the matron replied “What’s the problem with you two and not sleeping? It’s not as if you don’t have a bed”

And before they even knew what had happened, Esmée had ripped the apron from around Nesta’s waist, threw her coat and banned them from the tent.

“If that overexcited pitanga appears I’ll let him know that you already left with the Commander” with this last warning, Esmée left them outside, both a little lost.

Nesta was the first one to recompose herself. She wore her coat and started walking back to the cabin, not waiting to see if Cassian was following her.

Which he obviously was, effortlessly catching up to her given his long strides.

“You seem to be very fond of walking” he tried, casting her a side glance.

“I have no wings” she snorted “How else am I supposed to get anywhere then?

“Is that an invitation to fly with me Ness?” Cassian said, half joking and half expectant of her answer.

He would not lie and say the opportunity to hold her close to him did not tempt him. And he would not lie further by saying he had not been dying to show her how beautiful Illyria could be from above.

“No” she swiftly cut his offer down, staring straight ahead.

“It’ll be fun” he tried again.

“What’s so fun about making someone sick?” Nesta snapped, and Cassian remembered the last time she had flown.

How Rhysand had purposely flew faster than she could possibly stomach, no doubt a petty move from his side.

“I would fly very slowly” he tentatively said “And not even that high”

Cassian only received silence in answer, but he could tell from the way Nesta was pursing her lips that she was tempted to say yes.

“It is faster this way” Cassian added.

“Fine,” Nesta finally answered, a hint of annoyance in her voice “but one smart trick from you and you’ll wake up with burnt eyebrows tomorrow”

“I wouldn’t dare and try to make Your Highness uncomfortable”

They stopped walking, Cassian hesitating to take the first step and embrace Nesta.

The same could not be said about her, however, who boldly got close to him.

“So? Are we going or not?”

“Eager aren’t we sweetheart” Cassian gathered her on his arms, Nesta lacing her own around his shoulders “If I knew you were so desperate to hold me I would have brought this ideia up sooner”

Before she could throw a barbed reply his way, Cassian opened his wings and shot to the sky, feeling Nesta tighten her hold and bury her head on his shoulder.

Siphons flashing, Cassian pulled a shield over them, the air that high up being colder, specially when autumn was nearing its end.

He may or may not have taken the opportunity to discreetly take a better look at Nesta.

At the way the few strands of her hair had escaped her braid, tickling his cheek as they were blew by the wind.

At the way she got braver and raised her head a little, her blue eyes the colour of the cloud free sky and sparkling with wonder.

“It’s beautiful” and Nesta’s voice was so soft, so full of wonder, that Cassian imagined if that was how she had been before the war. When she was human and all she wanted was to keep Elain happy and travel the world.

“It is”

But he was not looking at the view.

Was not looking at how the sun sparkled against the shiny peeks of the mountains, how the vast green forest beneath them looked like a gigantic carpet laid over Illyria.

Cassian was looking at the female on his arms, savouring every precious second of the moment and thanking the gods he had promised to fly slowly, just so he could hold Nesta longer.

Letting her go once they were back on the ground was one of the hardest things he had ever done, missing her warmth and her jasmine and vanilla scent as if he was missing one of his own limbs.

He hoped he affected her the same way she affected him.

Hoped she felt even a minuscule fragment of what he felt for her.

Hoped he had not misunderstood the way she too seemed to regret letting him go.

~•~

Cassian didn’t even have to take the medicine for his headache, that annoying pounding having disappeared mid flight.

Nesta Archeron, he decided, was the best medicine he could have.

And it seemed that luck was finally on his side, for when they had arrived and Cassian asked her if she’d like to eat something, Nesta surprisingly said yes, going as far as to put the kettle on the stove to boil some water for tea.

Feeling bashful and enjoying his luck, Cassian attempted to make some small talk with Nesta, asking her about her day, what she liked about learning to be a healer, what she thought about Esmée.

He had been scared she’d shut him out, but she answered his questions with no problem, asking him some in return.

Cassian’s day had started awful but seemed to be walking towards being the best he’d ever had, specially when he appeared in living room after a warm bath and spotted Nesta, once again sitting comfortably on the couch — one of her new books laid on her lap — hair in a simple braid and wearing that mouth watering leggings, combined with a white tunic that drew attention to her eyes.

The fireplace was, as usual, empty.

Cassian could not understand how Nesta managed to make do with only fur blankets, specially now that winter was fast approaching.

“The fireplace.... why don’t you like to light it?”

That caught Nesta’s attention, and he saw how she flinched.

Dangerous. It was a dangerous ground that he was walking on.

They had only talked about futilities so far. But to ask her something so personal, something he suspected was related to the war and her traumas...

He didn’t want to see her back to the dark and empty place she used to go when she had first arrived, eyes faraway and empty.

“You don’t have to answer that if you’re not comfortable, but I’m... worried” Cassian flapped his wings a little, an evident sign of his anxiousness “Winter in Illyria is ruthless”

“It was no different from when I was human” Nesta snapped, but her voice had a slight tremble to it.

“It is. And you...we won’t be able to go through it if we don’t have a fire burning” he walked towards the sofa, daring to sit down beside Nesta, but holding himself back from touching her hand, which clutched the hardcover of the book “Even the wards and walls here are not enough to keep the cold away. Winter at Illyria won’t be like winter in the human land. Or in Velaris”

Nesta only stared and stared at the fireplace, as if it would light up any minute. After some time, she spoke, her voice almost a whisper.

“The sound that the fire makes...when it burns...it reminds me of bones” she shuddered “Of bones breaking”

Her father’s neck.

Maybe even his wings.

He hadn’t known.

Hadn’t known and last solstice she had stayed all night, without complaining about the noise. Without asking to diminish the fire or even make it soundless — Cassian knew that Rhysand, Amren or even Mor would be able to do it. But she had not asked to. Had not wanted to appear weak. To most probably not worry Feyre.

Nesta had been suffering all this time.

Alone.

“I... I have no magic. At least not any apart from the killing power every Illyrian has. So I’m not able to make the fire soundless”

“But you could do it” he added softly “If you lit the fire with your powers... I think you’d be able to turn the sound of the wood snapping off. The fire would be yours to tame. To control”

“You think it would work?” she asked, and Cassian felt a sliver of hope in her tone.

Control. It was all about control. And if Nesta felt like she was in control of the situation, she would be able to support a burning fireplace, sound or not.

“I think you are able to do whatever you wish to, but the first step is to try”

“Grab the wood then” Nesta said.

And Cassian did. He piled the wood neatly, and Nesta moved to stand in front of the fireplace, standing her hands in front of her.

“Just like we practiced” Cassian softly said, moving behind her, his front only a couple of inches from her back “Reach deep within you for it, and then redirect it to the wood”

He could picture Nesta knotting her eyebrows in concentration, and her silver flames soon appeared on her hands.

“Good, now project them towards the fire” Cassian’s voice took the tone he usually used during training, a way to ground her.

Nesta’s flames got brighter and with a little push of arms they flew towards the wood, burning it.

It started small, but soon the fire was roaring, the crack crack of wood filling the air.

“Now turn it off Nesta”

“I-I can’t” she said, her whole body starting to tremble “I don’t know how”

“You can. And you will” he placed a hand on her lower back, like he had once done a lifetime ago in a war tent “You’re the one in control. The flames obey you and no else”

Nesta’s breath was coming in pants now, but the cracking of the fire gradually began to get quieter.

“Just like that Ness” he encouraged, daring to get a little closer, until his front almost touched her back “You’re doing amazing xe nhia”

With a grunt, the sound of the burning wood died out completely, and Nesta staggered back into Cassian’s chest, the flames around her fists also disappearing.

He held her against him, filled with awe and proud of her for meeting her fear head on.

Nesta straightened herself, turning to face Cassian, her blue-gray eyes shining with some hidden emotion.

“Thank you” she whispered, and Cassian swore he had never heard more precious words.

“It was all you” he shrugged “You don’t have to thank me sweetheart”

“I wouldn’t have tried it if it weren’t for you” she stubbornly replied “So accept my thanks and stop being so headstrong”

“Me? Headstrong?” Cassian chuckled, his arms tightening around her “Aren’t you talking about yourself Nessie?”

Nesta snorted, placing her hands on his chest and Cassian prayed to the gods that she wouldn’t notice how fast his heart was beating.

Being so close to Nesta did things to his heart.

And to other parts of him.

“Go make dinner you stupid bat” she said, pushing him away “Kaelin should be arriving, and I bet he’ll be starving after training”

As if on cue, the door opened and the Illyrian walked in.

“Hey...” Kaelin greeted weakly, and Cassian noticed fresh bruises on the kid’s face, the older ones barely healed.

“Kaelin!” Nesta exclaimed, practically running towards the young Illyrian “What happened?”

“Oh this is nothing” he shrugged, wincing slightly “Just lost at an one on one spar today”

“Kaelin...” Nesta tried to touch him, but the kid swiftly backed off, avoiding her.

Cassian saw the look of hurt flashing on Nesta’s face before she concealed it beneath a mask of coolness.

“I’ll just wash up and then help with dinner” saying that, Kaelin quickly left the room.

It seemed that Cassian’s luck could only go so far, for his worries about Kaelin seemed to have doubled.

•

Fixed tag list: @sayosdreams @thewayshedreamed @sjm-things @perseusannabeth @arinbelle @caotica-e-quieta @vidalinav @swankii-art-teacher @ireallyshouldsleeprn @duskandstarlight @greerlunna @thegoddessaltenia @dayanna-hatter @verypaleninja @awesomelena555 @courtofjurdan @allilal @sensitiveillyrian @moe8 @illyrianwitchling13 @silvernesta @bri-loves-sunflowers @queenestarcheron @imwritingthesewords @vasudharaghavan @rainbowcheetah512 @darkshadowqueensrule @letstakethedawn @starlightorstarfire @city-of-fae

{Please let me know if you’d like to added to my Fixed Tag list}

[mirkwoodshewolf]

I just wanted to make you smile again; 10th Doctor x child reader

*Author’s note*

Okay to the anon who requested this fic THANK YOU FOR BEING SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO PATIENT WITH ME!!!! To those anons and users who have sent me requests literally since last year I thank you all for your patience, I AM GETTING THEM DONE SLOWLY BUT SURELY. I’m already in process of doing another DW fic w/13th doctor (one of the first requests I got when I opened them last year) so I hope you all enjoy this fic.

This takes place after the episode Journey’s end so to those that haven’t seen the episode yet SPOILERS AHEAD!!! Angst and fluff is what this fic is. Enjoy my lovelies and until next time ;)

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things​

@waddles03​

@psychosupernatural​

@ixchel-9275​

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​

@platawnic​

_________________________________________________________

Things have been—tough. The Daleks, one of my daddy’s biggest enemies nearly had us and almost succeeded in destroying all of life and matter as we know it.  But thanks to some fast thinking and with the help of a clone of my dad, we managed to stop Davros as well as the rest of the Daleks.

But honestly that was the easy part.  The hardest was saying goodbye to all of our friends.  Rose and her mum went back to the parallel world with the meta-human clone of my daddy, Captain Jack took Martha and Mickey off on another adventure, Sarah Jane (an old friend of my dad’s long before I was born) went back home, and Donna—oh poor, poor Donna.

Daddy said that in order to help stop the Daleks, Donna, who had touched the severed hand of my dad when he first became this new version of himself, gained so much knowledge of the Timelords and of our home that it could overwhelm her brain and eventually kill her.  So my dad had to absorb all memory of Timelord knowledge, including all the times she spent with us.

After taking her back home, daddy told her father that it was too dangerous for her to remember anything.  If there was a glimpse of her recovering her memories, she would die.  So my dad and I left her and her family and he never went back.

Since that day, almost seven months later, he still carries that guilt.  And what’s worse is that he hasn’t been the same. He doesn’t smile as much as he used to before.  I think out of everything that I love about my daddy, it’s his smile that always made me feel happy and safe.

I stepped out of my room to see him where he usually was, standing at the controls with that dazed but intense look on his face.  I looked down at paper butterfly and cautiously walked towards my dad. It’s always a touch and go of how he’ll react whenever he’s in that deep haze.  One time he actually shouted at me and I was scared to even go near him for an entire week till he apologized to me with some Turkish delights.

“Daddy.” I said softly. “Umm…uhh daddy?” he snapped out of his daze and looked down at me.

“Oh (Y/n). Sorry I was just—I was just trying to find….nothing. What is it that you wanted to tell me?”

“Well I—finished my paper butterfly and I-wanted to give it to you.” I held it out to him and he looked down at me.  He knelt down and took the butterfly from my hands and I saw his eyes grow soft.

“It’s beautiful love. Thank you.” he gently ruffled my hair and placed my butterfly right along the controls.  It didn’t work.

I had hoped that my paper butterfly would get him to smile.  He always smiled whenever I made him little trinkets of my own design, or beautiful art projects that I’ve seen on Earth.  I thought that by doing an art project, he’d smile again but it didn’t work.

I was currently in my room reading some books written back in the 20th century.  I’ve always found that time period to be rather splendid.  It was a simpler time (if you don’t count the 2 World wars, the Great depression, and every war after that. You know why must humans always start wars?)

Anyways, the start of the 20th century is always my favorite place.  It’s quiet, tranquil, and peaceful.  A nice place, especially out in the countryside. People can have picnics, host carnivals, and yeah the grown men partake in Foxhunt but I think it’s a barbaric sport and yet they call it tradition.

Maybe if—maybe if we stayed there for a while, daddy could get better and smile once again.  I think the more time we stay in the TARDIS and just keep going through space and time, the more unhappy daddy’s gonna get, like I said he always gets lost in his head and the more bad things that happen around him, the more he keeps it bottled up inside and the more sadder he gets.

The only question now was this—how was I gonna get there? I don’t know how to drive the TARDIS cause daddy always told me to keep my grabby little paws off of it. Oh wait that’s it! I raced over to my drawer and pulled out the middle one and dug through it till I found what I was looking for.

A special teleportation watch gifted to me by Uncle Jack when my dad was in his previous form (just shortly after we first met him).  I placed the watch on my wrist and I set the time and date that I wanted to go to.  Once the coordinates were typed in, I pressed the center of the watch and I disappeared from my room and went to go set up my surprise for daddy.

*10th Doctor’s POV*

I was fiddling around with the controls when I turned and looked up at my daughter’s butterfly.  For months now she’s been making these little trinkets and art projects for me, and I really haven’t been fair to her.  A lot has happened to us, especially with what happened to Donna, and I hate to admit this to myself but I’ve been neglecting my little butterfly.

Maybe she would like it if I took her to see her favorite constellation, or maybe Barcelona (she always did like Barcelona).  Oh! No wait! The Music of the Spheres! Yes brilliant! She and I could use some music in our life, the sound of the universe singing to us.

“Hey (Y/n)! Can you come out here for a second?” I called out to her.  No response.  Okay I know it usually takes her a bit of time to come down from her room but usually she’d be right here by now. “(Y/n)? (Y/n) I said can you come here please?” bah she must be listening to that loud music again, that lass I tell you what.

I left the console room and headed on over to her room and saw that her door was shut which was surprising cause she usually keeps her door open.  I knocked on it and said.

“Poppet, are you okay? You’re not—upset or anything are you?” I still didn’t hear anything from her.  “Look I—I know we’ve been through a lot the past several months, and I have no excuse for not speaking to you. I’m sorry. So—can you please open the door so we can talk?” still nothing.

Alright I know she has a right to be upset but she can’t give me the silent treatment forever.  I opened up the door and snapped.

“Alright little madam you listen here I—” it was then I saw that she wasn’t in her room. “(Y/n)?” I looked around her room to see if she was hiding in her closet again (she always takes every advantage to jump out and scare me) but when I saw that she wasn’t there, that’s when I began to get worried.

As I left her room and began to look all around the TARDIS from the backroom pool, to the library I still couldn’t find her.

“C’mon poppet don’t do this to me.” I searched high and low, near and far and every crack in between but she still wasn’t around. “No, no, no, no, no love don’t do this to me! (Y/n)!”

I raced back towards the console and went over to the computer monitor and I quickly typed in her lifeform energy.  Since she was the only Timelord in existence (well next to me), I knew that she could be pinpoint at any time in any era she might be in.  I only hope that I can get to her before—no! NO DON’T THINK LIKE THAT!! You WON’T lose her like you lost Donna!

“C’mon you blasted thing LOAD!!!” I screamed at the computer before finally I got a hit.  London, England 1908.  Of course, she always said the start of the 20th century was her favorite time period.  I punched in the coordinates and flipped the switch and soon the TARDIS started back up and I was sailing back in time over 100 years into the past.

Once I arrived, I peeked out of the TARDIS and found myself adjacent to a large park. It was pretty peaceful, families were out and about doing their normal human interactions.  I shut the doors to the TARDIS and I quickly raced over to the park and searched for (Y/n).

This was where her last known readings were at.  At this exact spot so where could that little troublemaker be at?  I walked up to a couple and said.

“Hi sorry to bother you but I was wondering if you have found a little girl around 5 years old with (h/l) (h/c) hair and (e/c) eyes? She’s my daughter and she’s wondered off again.”

“No sorry. We haven’t seen any little girls fitting that description.” Said the man as he and his wife continued on their walk.  I then found another couple who seemed a more upper-class couple due to the diamond necklace around the woman’s neck.

“Excuse me could you both please help me I’m looking for my daughter have either of you……”

“We don’t have time to look for lost children, that’s what the servants are for.” Said the man.

“And who loses their child anyway? Such irresponsibility.” The woman snide.  I looked at them offendedly and said.

“At least I don’t dump my child on anyone else! I’m surprised that people like you could even have children.” They looked at me appalled before huffing and walking away from me.  

I grunted and adjusted my jacket trying to compose myself when a small Cockney accent said.

“You said you were looking for (Y/n)?” I turned around and there was a young ginger haired boy with freckles speckled all over his face.  His bright blue eyes staring up at me and he wore a paper boy’s uniform.

“Yeah that’s my daughter’s name. Do you know where she is?”

“Course I do Gov. Just got done talking with her before I started my work sir. She’s right by the lake.”

“The Lake! Oh thank you lad. Thank you so much.”

“No problem, good luck governor.” I raced off towards the lake and when I got there, I soon saw my daughter sitting right by the lake surrounded by flowers and in her lap it looked like she was in the process of making a flower crown.

The important thing was that she was safe, but that little missy is sooo going to get it now.

I trudged my way towards her and exclaimed.

“(Y/n)!” she stopped her work and turned around.  Her big (e/c) eyes staring up at me and a smile spread across her face. She stood up and ran towards me and hugged around my legs.

“Daddy you came!”

“Yes I did.” I knelt down and began to check to see if she was hurt or worst case scenario been replaced by a Graske. “Are you hurt?”

“No I’m perfectly fine.”

“Answer me this then. Who was the first companion that we had together?”

“Rose Tyler.” Okay this was my baby girl.  I immediately hugged her and whispered to her as I rest my head on top of hers.

“I thought I had lost you.” I then separated from her before scolding her vert sternly, “Do you have any idea how worried I was!? You leave your room with no note! How on earth did you leave the TARDIS without my knowledge?!”

“Uncle Jack’s time jump watch.” She said nervously as she held out her wrist.  I looked down and right there was the time teleport watch that Jack had given her shortly after we met him for the first time in my previous state.

“That figures. Remind me to never let him give you anymore teleportation gifts without my permission.” I muttered to myself. “Bottom line is that you left the TARDIS without my permission and had me scared to death! What if something happened to you hmm? Did it ever cross your mind about how that would make me feel!?”

Yes I know my voice was steadily getting angrier and angrier but she should’ve realized that my one rule for her is to never, ever, ever leave the TARDIS without my permission or knowledge and she broke that rule.

“I—I’m sorry daddy. I just……thought that if I brought you here, you would be happy.” My anger quickly vanished and confusion now took its place.

“What?” I asked her.

“Ever since—” she deeply sighed. “After what happened with Donna you never smile anymore. No matter what I’ve done, I could never get you to smile. Your real smile, the smile that always made me feel loved and protected. I thought that maybe we could—stay here for a while till you were happy again.” She looked down with regret.

I rubbed my hand over my face and through my hair before looking back down at her. I cupped my hands over her face and I said to her.

“What would I ever do without you my little butterfly?” she smiled softly.

“So we can stay?” she asked.

“For now.” I answered her.  She squealed happily and immediately hugged me around my neck repeatedly telling me thank you.  I smiled and embraced my baby girl back and kissed the top of her head as I rocked her back and forth.

This little madam truly does have me wrapped around her little finger, and she seems to know it as well.  But she was right.  Staying in one area made you stop and admire what’s around you, and not stay trapped inside your head letting your demons torment you.

We stayed in 1908 for about five months just enjoying each other’s company.  Going to the park every day, having picnics and tea parties out in the garden of our rented little cottage, and stargazing every night teaching her more about the galaxy and the stars.  

For the first time ever, I felt—peaceful, no regrets, no painful reminders of what I had to do to Donna, it was just me and my daughter.

[huberts-private-counsel-archive]

Hiii~ could you please dedicate this one to @stag-of-adrestia? Let's have Value Me with darkshout, just for old times sake ;)

Well, you heard the anon! To @stag-of-adrestia this drabble goes!

.....you can. carbon date how old this is by the url im so sorry about this im so very sorry

Leave a “Value Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about one character telling another how they feel about them.

Caspar didn’t know a lot. BUT. He DID know one thing.

He’d had ENOUGH!

It was pretty much everywhere he went! No matter what! Over and over, he’d her people talking shit about Hubert, writing him off as “just the Emperor’s lapdog”, as if that was an okay thing to do!

It didn’t matter that Hubert said that he didn’t mind and that they were speaking the truth (which they WEREN’T, and Hubert shouldn’t have to pretend like they were!), Caspar was still not gonna stand for this! He was going to show those jerks that they were wrong!

And he had an absolutely, one hundred percent foolproof plan to do so! Linhardt helped him come up with it!

...Honestly, Lin had only agreed to help him because he said that, “just yelling in Hubert’s face about your love for him won’t go well.”

To be fair, it wasn’t like Hubert knew Caspar loved him, so Lin was probably right about that...

Bah, whatever! That wasn’t the point here!

Caspar shook off the lingering doubts - he had an important job to do! He couldn’t get hung up on dumb stuff he could take care of later! Maybe! Probably never! Whatever!

He knocked on the door to Hubert’s office, waiting a few seconds to see if Hubert would answer. As Lin had predicted, he very much did not. So Caspar did what he did best.

“HEYA HUBERT! IT’S CASPAR! I GOT SOMETHING TO TALK TO YA ABOUT!!” Caspar exclaimed as he slammed the office door open. 

He could see Hubert actually jump at his desk - which shocked him for a moment, until he realized something. Hubert only ever jumped when something startled him because he was completely off guard. The only time Hubert was ever completely off guard was when he was asleep. Hubert had...actually been asleep at his desk.  And Caspar just woke him up very loudly.

Oops.

Caspar didn’t hide the wince as Hubert turned to look at him, eyes narrowed in clear anger for a few seconds before he just sighed.

“What is it, Caspar?” Hubert asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. He did that a lot when Caspar was around.

He sounded pretty annoyed, definitely because Caspar woke him up like that; but he didn’t sound as annoyed as he could’ve been. Don’t ask how Caspar knew that, it’s a long story that he’d like to not relive, thank you.

Anyway!

“I was coming to drag ya out of your office! You’ve been in there all day! Some fresh air could do you some real good!”

Yep! This was Caspar’s completely foolproof plan! Just take Hubert out on the town to have some fun! (He REFUSED to say date, because it wasn’t a date! Nope! Just two friends hanging out!)

“I’ve been inside all day because there’s a lot of work that I still need to do-” Hubert was already saying, which was Caspar’s cue to cut in. He knew if he let Hubert keep talking, he’d end up just going back inside his office. So!

“Nope! None of that!” Caspar interrupted, grinning triumphantly. “I already asked Edelgard about it, and she said it was fine!”

Actually, she didn’t, but that wasn’t the point.

Hubert stared at him for a few moments, as if trying to decide if Caspar was telling to truth. Actually, that’s probably exactly what he was doing. Caspar tried not to fidget. Eventually, Hubert must’ve decided he was telling the truth (phew), because he let out another sigh - one that Caspar knew meant he was relenting.

“If Lady Edelgard approved it, then I suppose I’ve no choice but to play along.”

Caspar smiled. And that smile only as the day progressed. His plan really was going perfectly! They were both having a good time going out on the town, and Caspar even saw Hubert trying not to smile! It was amazing! All in all, everything was going according to plan!

“Ugh, watch out - the Emperor’s dog is coming...”

...Well, it was, until some ASSHOLE decided to speak up.

Caspar felt his hands curl into fists as he heard the words, whirling around to stare down the person who said it. The only reason they weren’t suffering from a serious case of what he’d like to call “Caspar’s Fist Directly Through Their Face” disease was because of Hubert’s hand resting on his shoulder.

“Don’t bother, Caspar. They’re simply stating facts.” Hubert’s voice sounded resigned, his expression carefully blank - which Caspar knew meant that Hubert was actually really bothered by what they were saying.

“But they’re not! Because you’re way more than what that bastard says!!” Caspar shouted, feeling the anger creeping into his voice.

He knew that they were drawing a crowd, but he didn’t care about that. What he cared about was getting Hubert to not listen to that jackass!

“Really, Caspar, you’re causing a scene...” And there it was, Hubert trying to change the subject because he didn’t want to talk about this. Well Caspar wasn’t gonna let him!

“That doesn’t matter! They should be here to hear about how amazing you are! You’re a super talented mage, maybe even rivaling Lin in how smart you are! And you always use that to help everyone, no matter what you say! You’re way more nice than people give ya credit for; and that’s not to mention how loyal you are! I know Edelgard knows she can always rely on you no matter what, just like everyone else in the Strike Force!”

Caspar could hear murmuring in the crowd, and see how Hubert’s face was slowly turning more red. He wasn’t used to all the compliments - which only drove Caspar to say even more compliments! Because Hubert deserved to hear everything good that people thought about it!

“And besides! You’re the guy I love! Of course you’re awesome!”

Hubert froze. “What.”

Caspar froze himself. Wait, actually, Hubert wasn’t supposed to hear that part, abort mission ABORT MISSION-

Hubert let out a sigh - but to Caspar’s surprise, it wasn’t like...an angry sigh, or a disappointed sigh, or a “I’m five seconds away from losing it” sigh (don’t ask why Caspar knew that one).

It was...a relieved sigh.

“Well...” Hubert looked away, the blush on his face deepening. “I suppose that makes things easier for me...considering I love you as well.”

Caspar felt his jaw drop. He was not expecting that.

But he couldn’t say that he was unhappy about that - not when he was letting out a shout of joy and pulling Hubert down for a kiss.

(”Hey Caspar!” Annette said one day, having been on a date with her partner Stag. “Now, who’s that next to you?”

The tone to her voice was obviously teasing, and Caspar grinned widely.

“That’s my husband!” He exclaimed happily. No matter how many times this happened, whether it be Annette or someone else from the Strike Force, Hubert couldn’t stop the blush from appearing on his cheeks.

Not that he was truly upset about it, though.)

[edie-k]

Legally Ginger - Prologue (PG-13, Romione)

Now, for something totally different...

Title: Legally Ginger

Chapter 1/9

Rating: PG-13 (I use fuck more than the MPAA allows for PG-13 but that's a stupid rule - there's no explicit content)

Pairing: Romione endgame

Summary: When Ron Weasley's college girlfriend declines his proposal because he doesn't meet her standard for future husband, he decides comes up with a plan to let her see him in a new light.

Notes: This is an AU Muggle reimagination of Legally Blonde. It's very different than anything I have ever written - and my first chapter story. I intend to update each Monday.

Thank you to adnei for all of her beta feedback!

While I really enjoy Legally Blonde, it has some things that need a bit of updating or calling out in the year 2021. This fic will attempt to do those things but not lose the fun and fluffiness of the concept.

Also... I love the pop culture/time capsule references of the movie so plan to see that same vibe in this fic. If any of them are unclear to you, let me know in the comments because I love to talk pop culture!

Finally, lots of our favorites are scheduled to appear throughout the story - I eagerly anticipate all guesses as to who will be who!

Disclaimer: Neither Harry Potter or Legally Blonde or any of their characters are owned by me and are not being used for profit.

Link to AO3 or click below to read more.

“Hey Tim!” Ron Weasley shouted, raising his hand to greet the guy behind the coffee cart but not breaking his stride.

“Hey Ron! Thanks for that recommendation. She loved it!”

Ron grinned and kept on running his recreational route that wove through the Los Angeles campus of California University. Even though his cross country career had come to an end with the conclusion of his senior season this fall, he didn’t intend to let his personal records slip. In fact, he was almost working harder. If everything went according to plan tonight, he planned to be competing in the iconic Boston Marathon next April.

“Ron! We still on to study tomorrow?” shouted his chem lab partner Kelsey as he strode past her.

“Yep! We’re going to rock that test out!”

“Hi Ron!” he heard a few female voices chorus together as he passed the Zeta Beta house. Several girls were doing yoga out on the front lawn.

“Great form ladies!” he yelled back, grinning as he heard the giggles.

He grabbed his shirt to wipe his forehead and glanced at his watch. 4:30. He was approaching the house and he had time to do some cool down stretches, shower, check that they had enough brothers to cover the Animal Aid fundraiser tomorrow, send his Econ professor his problem set, and dress for dinner before he had to leave for the Delta Nu house.

He slowed to a jog as his feet hit the driveway. He took the porch steps two at a time before entering the house. Immediately, he was greeted by a snort.

“Pig! Good boy,” he greeted, scratching the pug behind his ears.

“Come on boy,” he said, starting up the house stairs to his room, Pig following dutifully behind. As president, he lucked out with his own room with an en-suite bathroom but as was typical for his life, it wasn’t empty.

“Hey brother brother!” two voices said.

Ron rolled his eyes at the twins. “That joke will never be funny.” Fred and George grinned, one sprawled on his bed and one in his desk chair.

“We just have this last semester to even make the joke. Afterwards, it’ll be pathetic,” Fred said.

“That 40k is so close I can taste it,” said George.

His twin brothers were two years older than him, however, they’d dropped out after their sophomore year to open a retail shop selling joke and novelty items. They quickly realized they were more interested in conducting their own research and development; manufacturing their own products to distribute and sell. It was certainly more profitable. In order to get the seed money, they returned to college after two years. Their schooling, like Ron’s, was financed by his Aunt Muriel and upon receiving their bachelors degree, Muriel also handed over a $20,000 cash gift. The crotchety old broad put a lot of value on their schooling.

“And little Ronniekins is going to spend his on a girl,” Fred teased. It was then that he noticed Fred was fiddling with the small gray ring box that had previously been hidden in Ron’s sock drawer. He moved to snatch it back but Fred tossed it across the room to George.

Ron frowned. “First, I’m not spending it all on a girl. Part of it will be for the wedding and the rest I’ll save for a down payment on a house. Maybe not in Boston because we may not stay there after she finishes law school.”

“Oh yes, Bah-stan,” George mocked in a truly terrible accent.

“Yes. She’s sure that it’ll happen. She’s a legacy or something like that. I hope so because I think Boston Beer Company is going to make me an offer.”

“Free Sam Adams? I’ll take it,” Fred nodded.

“Secondly,” said Ron. “She’s not just a girl.”

The twins groaned. “Ugh, Ronnie, there’s no free beer yet. I can’t listen to this sober.”

Ron rolled his eyes.

“I have to ask,” started George. “Are you sure about this? You’re so young and it hasn’t been that long. You could still go to Boston with her without getting engaged.”

While it was annoying to get another “you’re too young” speech, it wasn’t often that his brothers asked him a serious question. “I’m sure. She’s the one.”

“Well then,” said George, flipping the box to him. “Go get her.”

A few hours later, he was shifting nervously in his seat at their table at Chaudron Qui Fuitfont, playing with the same gray ring box in his pocket. The dinner course had been cleared and they were now waiting for dessert to arrive as well as the bottle of champagne he’d surreptitiously requested.

“Astoria, have I told you that you look absolutely breathtaking tonight?”

“Just three or four times,” she laughed.

“Well, I might tell you a few more,” Ron said.

“It’s not everyday that you put so much effort into a date. I had to deliver on my side as well,” Astoria replied.

“It’s appreciated,” Ron smiled. “I-I appreciate everything about you. How gorgeous you are, how driven… the past 18 months with you has really made me sit down and focus on what I want for my future, you know?”

“That’s great, Ron,” Astoria said, reaching across the table to give his hand a squeeze. She glanced around him. “I want another glass of Merlot.”

“Yeah. You know I’m in the final stages for jobs at three companies,” he said.

“Mmm,” she said distractedly.

“Including Boston Beer Company,” he added.

“That’s a reputable company. Although make sure the job isn’t on the Truly brand. They’ll never get the market from White Claw. Mark my words, they’ll fizzle in two years.”

“Astoria, I see my future with you.”

She looked up at him sharply. “What?”

“Yes. I love you. I’m ready to start the next stage of our relationship. Astoria - ” Ron stood up, pulling the ring box out.

“No.”

“Will you marry me?” Ron asked, kneeling next to her.

“No, now get up.”

Ron’s blood suddenly ran cold. “Wha-what?”

“I said, no, now sit down.” He numbly followed her direction.

“Ron,” Astoria sighed. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry.”

“But… why?”

Astoria gave him a pitying look. “Look, we have had so much fun. You’re a great guy.”

“Great guy? You told me you loved me,” he hissed, trying to keep his voice low to avoid more embarrassment.

“And I do. As a college boyfriend. You are a great college boyfriend. You’re president of the second best fraternity on campus so you get all the best party invites. You’re on the cross country team so I can tell everyone I’m dating a Division I athlete, but you aren’t in one of those sports where it like, takes up all your time. You had a cool internship, everybody on campus loves you because you volunteer and help and you’re nice to everyone, even the janitors. You’re sweet and you’ve got a great body and you… you know,” she dropped her voice now “always deliver on what’s promised. You’ve been the perfect person to spend the last few semesters with.”

“I… I don’t understand what the problem is. I sound great from what you’re saying,” Ron seethed, frustration clear in his tone.

“I need a man for the next part of my life. Not a frat boy, not even if he doesn’t exactly fit the stereotype. I’m going to Harvard Law School in the fall. Do you understand how big of a deal that is?”

“Yes! That’s why I am pursuing a job in Boston. To be with you.”

“At a beer company.”

“I’m not opening a bar with my buddies. It’s a research and development role at a major corporation!”

“You have a degree in food science,” Astoria replied, rolling her eyes.

“It’s not like we spend all our time eating. It’s a real field. I got an A in Organic Chemistry.”

“Org Chem with Murphy. The serious students take it with Professor Kettle.”

Ron just gaped at her.

“If I’m going to be a federal judge by the time I’m 40, I need to stop dicking around. And I’m sorry, you’re not a Marty Ginsberg.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not an Armie Hammer either. Feels like there’s some wiggle room between those two extremes.”

“You’re a great guy. And I’m sure you’ll be a great husband to a marketing specialist or a pharmaceutical sales rep. And maybe if I was going to go to Wayne State or Northwestern, things would be different. But this is Harvard Law. There are just… expectations that any potential spouse meet a certain intellectual bar. Or at least a social bar. I mean, my sister is engaged to a Kennedy!”

At that point, the waiter approached the table with their desserts. Astoria stood up. “I’m really sorry. I’ll just call an Uber.” She paused and kissed him on the cheek before exiting the dining room.

“Uh, should I wrap these to go?” asked the waiter as Ron watched Astoria leave.

[gauloiseblue]

The Man Who Stood By The Ocean

[Chapter 3]

November, 1996

The weather in this month is as unexpected as it could be, the sky could appeared clear before all of sudden a mass of thick clouds formed and blocking out the previous sunlight. You were just walking out from your school before the first drop of rain touched your cheek, the rest follows as downpour comes without warning. The rainfall isn't enough to make you completely drenched, but the combination of wet clothes and frosty wind will surely have you bedridden for days. Unprepared for the sudden change of weather, you run back towards the school building.

It seems like you're not the only one who didn't bring rainsuit nor umbrella, which could help you get through the rain—although both of them are useless against the biting cold winds. You sneak thought the people who stands in front of the entrance, muttering sorry as you gently push them aside. It's no use going home in this crazy rain, you're sure your parents would understand if you're coming home late today.

The school lobby is surprisingly empty, with only a few group of people scattering around the hallway. Your eyes scanned the room, trying to find a familiar face, but none of them seemed to be here. You were alone.

You frown as the growing awkwardness grip your chest, you were used to have at least one friend beside you, but it looks like they already went home. Deciding that standing in the middle of the hall makes you look silly, you begin to walk towards the stairs. Climbing up to the 3rd floor, you immediately turn to the left and make your way to the library.

The smell of old pages hits your nostrils as you slide the door open, your breath paused as the memories you tried to repressed seeping out from your chest. Library. The place where the books rest and waited to be read.

The bittersweet nostalgia is slowly sinking into your heart as you step into the room, the feeling you had denied for all these time arises so easily by just one particular scent. The sight of bookshelves, the pile of book in the corner, a line of thick encyclopedias, everything reminds you of him.

You run your fingers on to the book spines as you walk deeper into the room, but one book stopped you completely on track when your eyes catch the title—La Bella Addormentata. A slight tremble arise from your finger as you gently, so delicately touches the hardcover.

Why did this book became his favorite? He once told you the very reason but the more you think, the more it becomes haze, a blur memory from the past that you were unable to recover. Your hand gently lift the book and flip the page open, revealing a vivid detail of sleeping beauty and the prince on both pages.

The clear illustration immediately took you back to the past, to the day where the sun miraculously shone on Naples in the early November, and the temperature was warm enough for you to sweat. Resting on the edge of pier, you were just dreaming of a divine sight of undersea before something sweet touched your lips.

That was the day you had your first kiss, and the day you saw the innocent love and devotion through his eyes. You remember it, you remember it all.

Far away from where you're standing, the ocean is peeking from the small window near the bookshelves. The dazzling blue of the sea—the pride of Napoli—was clouded by the gloomy weather. Yet the ocean's still there, it always has been there with you whether you know it or not.

—

You could never understand why Bruno went away without a message. You'd get it if he would live in the other city, or his father decided to move to America, but you were left with nothing to believe. You hated him for leaving you at the time when your love was high, but at the same time, you couldn't help but think of the worst. What if he was caught by the storm in the middle of the sea? And the ship sank with him and his father inside, deep into the water where death becomes inevitable.

You shake your head vigorously, don't think too much. If he doesn't come back, you'd be fine without him, you're fine on living with the reminiscent of him. If he couldn't be a part of your life again, at least he left so much good memories for you to remember.

Four years is relatively a short time, as if everything had just happened yesterday. You could still feel hurt, confused, terrified... yet strangely calm. You weren't sure if it was a coping mechanism, or your feelings were beginning to numb, but you just know that he's alive and well. Deep in your heart, you still believe that perhaps, someday the two of you will meet again.

Pushing back the thoughts that clouded your mind, you lift your head before you noticed that you've been strayed from your path. You quickly apologize as you nearly bumped into other people, the woman you almost crossed path with gave you a side glance before continuing her talk with her friend.

Seems like you've been zoning out for a while, that you didn't even realize your feet has been carrying you to the old bookstore. You blinked, the storefront of the shop hasn't changed at all. The metal newspaper racks is still being placed on the right side of entrance, and a messy pile of discounted books on the left. Through the glass door, you see the old man reading a newspaper in the back of the cashier, it's the friendly face you'd always cherish.

The small bell dings when you push the door open and successfully bring the old man's attention to you. He winced as he adjusted his glasses before a smile spreads on his face.

"Ciao, cara! It's been a while."

"Ciao, Signore Enrico. You look as good as ever."

The older man chuckled, and the yellowish teeth behind his lips was shown. He closed the pages before folding the newspaper, a subtle gesture he'd do whenever he's up for a light conversation.

"How's your knee? Is it getting better?"

"Bah! I'd already dance like a ballerino if my knees weren't aching these days." He responded in grumpy mood, "I even had to stay at home for a week because I couldn't walk out of my bed!"

You gave him a sympathetic look, "I'm sorry to hear that, it must've been awful." You soften your gaze as you continue, "Though I'm glad you made it to the shop today."

"Ahh, it's all thanks to my grandson. I wouldn't have made it here without him," He suddenly leaned to the back as he shouts to the storeroom behind him, "Mimmo! Vieni qui, per favore." (Come here, please)

A lazy grunt comes out from the behind the door before it swings open, revealing a messy haired boy standing at the door.

"What is it, nonno?" He huffed, but he paused when he saw you. Signore Enrico pulls him by his arm as he tells him to greet his friend, you give him a little wave, and he blushes before muttering a small 'hello'.

"Is that how you greet una bella ragazza come lei (a beautiful girl like her)?" His grandpa gasped, "Don't be so cold hearted, mimmo."

"Mi spiace, I didn't mean to, I swear!"

You giggled when you see the frustration and panic in his eyes, "It's alright Giuseppe, you've never been cold to me. Ed inoltre, non sono bella. (And also, I'm not beautiful.)"

"Mamma mia, carina!" Signore Enrico suddenly holds your hand into his in warm manner, "Non dubitare mai di chi sei." (Never doubt who you are)

This time you were the one who blushes, "Grazie, signore."

The elderly man grins as he pats your hand, "Someone has to remind you that you're beautiful (Y/N), and I'm sure Pino wouldn't mind to do it for you."

"Nonno!"

Laughter escapes your lips, you just couldn't help it whenever signore Enrico teases his grandson. You smile when you see them so close together, as if you're part of la famiglia.

"Anyway, what brings you here, cara?" He asked all of the sudden, as the lightheartedness in his eyes has changed into concern. "If you're about to ask me about your friend, I'm sorry I didn't have any news for you..."

You cringed when he nailed you right on the head, maybe you wouldn't admit it but that must be the reason why you thoughtlessly walked to the shop. It was the only thing that binds you to him, either in the past, or in this uncertain present. You had promised him you'd wait for him, in this very place, and you still do. Even years after his disappearance, you still came to this bookstore, hoping he'd come back to you. But...

You shook your head, "No," You replied with a smile, "Non piú." (Not anymore)

[thoseofgreatambition]

smoke and roses pt 3 || grim

description: things get worse. thankfully, your love for george is mutual, and your fever dreams of fred are entertaining. thank god for that, right? 

a/n: Sorry. 

warnings: blood, sickness, depression, death

SMOKE AND ROSES MASTERLIST

general taglist: @susceptible-but-siriusexual @harrysweasleys @geeksareunique @insearchofnewdreams @notstandingstill-imlyinginwait @lumos-barnes @thatfuckingliardavidtennant @slytherinqween @xinyourdreamsx @skiving-snackboxess @wildfire-whizbangs @dwarfwizard-from-panem @diary-of-an-onliner @answer-the-sirens @woakiees @black-widow-fangirl @theheirofnightandday @summerstardust @whysoseriouspadfoot @chocok22 @myhopesareanchoredinyou @siriusblackisme @illusivedaydreamer @zeeneee @writingwitchly @wolfpotter12 @obsessedwithrandomthings @carolinesbookworld @shadowsinger11 @pit-and-the-pen @summer-writes @peachesandpinks @ickle-ronniekins @gweaslvy @alpinewinchester @parker-potters @deafgirltingz   @beana17  @imseeingred @they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon @wand3ringr0s3 @chantillycreme @jenniweaslee @hood-and-horan

george taglist: @ibingwatchshowsitsunhealthy @themaghribiya @highly-acidic​ @feffffffy​

fred and george taglist: @sweetpeastrigger @stuckindilemma​

no smut taglist: @parker-potters​

Far apart.

Sweat. 

Tears.

Quiet.

Hidden with glasses and showers and kettles.

Teeth grit. 

Chipped tooth. 

Crying with my mother. 

Looking away from me.

Shaking your head. 

I can hear you cry in the next room. 

I can hear my brother trying to help you calm down. 

You used to come to me for that. 

Another fever.

Another cough.

Wide eyed. 

Unknowing panic. 

You cried when you realized it was your birthday. 

The last one had been spent unconscious. 

23 before you knew it. 

Healer’s appointment as a present. 

Bad immune system as a present. 

Lifelong medication as a present. 

Therapy as a present. 

Pain as a present. 

Crying yourself sick as a present. 

Fever as a present. 

More scared of sickness than death. 

In a fit of frustration, unable to find the right words to continue, George flung his journal across his old bedroom. 

Bloody hell. 

It was terrible watching you get sick again. He couldn’t figure out what to do at all. Hold you? Stroke your hair? 

He, along with his mother, had tried to convince you to go back to St. Mungo’s but in a feverish fit of rage you’d pulled yourself out of their grips so swiftly that you’d fallen out of your bed and chipped your tooth. Clutching your wand for protection. 

Molly had said to wait and see if you got better. 

That was excruciating though. 

You looked so sad and confused whenever he came into your room. You’d just begun being happier again. Talking about moving in with George above the shop. Or even renting a new apartment for a fresh start. 

He could hear Percy leave your room across the hall, and gave his older brother a half smile when he peaked in.  

“Things’ll get better George.” 

“I don’t like her being sick.”  

“I know.” 

Silence, before George spoke. “She didn’t say it, but I think she loves me. Pretty sure.” 

“I think you’re right.” 

“My therapist says that might be a good thing. I love her too.” 

“It’s easy to tell.”  

George gave Percy a full smile this time, “I’m bad at hiding it aren’t I?” 

“You’re terrible at hiding it. So bad I didn’t know you were trying to. Everyone knows you’re writing love poems. Even she knows.” 

The warmth seemed to be coming back into George’s room. “It’s nice having good days.” 

“It is. It’ll be two years soon.” 

“Feels longer.” 

Percy let out a hum as he sat next to George. “Fred would be happy.” 

“I think so too.” 

“Not about being in love, he’d be happy about the poems. He always wanted more things to tease you about.” 

George couldn’t contain his laugh. “You’re an ass, Perce.” 

“Bah. Nicer than you still. Pretty sure that’s why she likes talking to me so much.” 

“Trying to steal my girl?” 

“No. I think she’s just confused a bit. She thought I was still headboy.” 

“Should have told me she was having a nightmare.” 

Someone was poking your cheek. “Stop it.” 

“Nope. Not until you stop moping.” with one eye cracked open, you scowled at the sight above you. Fred peered down with an equal amount of dissatisfaction. “Thought I told you to do sappy things with my brother.” 

“He’s writing love poems about me-- is that not enough yet?” 

Fred gave you a shrug before sitting down next to you on the bed. “Clearly not if you moped so hard you made yourself sick.” 

You opened your mouth to speak, and frowned at Fred when he laughed. “What is it?”

“You chipped your tooth!” 

“If you don’t cut it out I’ll be making sure you’re killed a second time around.” 

“Bah.” with a huff he laid down in the bed. “So what’s got you so mad?” 

“Healer said my immune system is shot. I’ll have to take a bunch of medicine forever.”

“Mmhmm.” 

“And I need more physical therapy.” 

“Mmhmm.” 

“And mental therapy” 

“I could have told you that, Y/N.” 

Reflexively you went to hit him, but your arm wound up thumping the lumpy mattress rather hard. 

“So what I’m hearing is that you’ve got a snazzy new medical condition that’s treatable, and you’re trying to get used to it.” 

There was a long pause before you finally spoke, “Yeah.” 

“Surprised you’re not smoking.” 

“George made me promise.” 

Fred gave you a bright grin. “You’ll bounce back in a day or two. It’s been two years.” “Feels like one.” 

He gave a shrug, “That’s fair. But still-- been a long time. Happier times are coming.” 

“How come you keep coming back to me?” “You keep getting sick!” 

“You said last time you were hanging around because you thought I would kick it.” 

“Because you’re going to die, and I’m your Grim.” 

When you looked at Fred less than impressed, even through your fevered haze he gave a laugh. A playful expression on his face, “I’m in your mind. You’re the one making me up.” 

“That’s probably why I need therapy isn’t it?” 

Another laugh. You finally let out a chuckle, and looked back at your side. 

He was gone again. 

Your laugh turned into a cough. 

With a groan, you sat up to get water, continuing to cough. Blind with panic as the coughing got worse and worse you began to retch as you stumbled out of the bed and onto the floor. Too woozy to stand. 

George came into the room, saying words you didn’t quite understand as he helped you back to bed. You could hardly hear him over your coughing. Finally, you’d managed to work something out of your lungs, though when you moved your hand away you noticed quite a lot of sputum, but even more shocking was the bright red stain on your hand. 

At first, you were certain it was another fever dream until you noticed how panicked George looked. 

Fred appeared at your side again, looking much sadder this time. Quite desolate as he slid down against the wall, facing you, legs crossed. 

“Why?” 

George was telling you not to talk, to drink some water, shouting for his mother. 

You kept your eyes locked onto Fred. 

“Because I’m your Grim.” 

[katefiction]

A Royal Christmas Carol

by katefiction (Maria) / 2013

The voices of hundreds of feverish and excitable people rose and fell through the crowd. Occasionally, snippets of conversation could be heard like little balls bouncing up from the ground. ‘How much? Ten pounds?’, ‘Oh she’ll absolutely love that!’, ‘It looks yummy…I might just have to try one’.

Catherine Middleton’s voice was just one of them.

‘Brutwurst for the pretty lady?’ a vendor said, thrusting a long German sausage in her direction.  

‘Oh no thank you’ she replied politely.

‘Only two pounds for you’ he said, with a twinkle in his eye, his thick German accent adding extra charm, ‘it’s delicious!’

‘I’m sure, but I’ve just had some stollen and mulled wine from that stall over there’ she said pointing to one of the wooden huts that were lined neatly in a row.

‘Stolen my business!’ he said, throwing his arms theatrically in the air, followed by something in German that Kate presumed to be an expletive.

Kate giggled, pushing William along gently before they were convinced into buying any more food. They both already had a bag each filled with meats, gingerbread and fudge. 

It seemed to William that his new housemate wanted to stop at every stall possible at the Christmas Market that had landed in St Andrew’s that December day.

‘Oh that’s gorgeous!’ Kate enthused, looking at some blown glass baubles with a hand painted design.

William trudged on behind her, his feet sore from the walking and fingers numbing in the wintery air. He pondered for a second whether this was what having a proper girlfriend felt like. The constant pretence of being interested in the wooden toys, sparkling decorations and handmade crafts that Kate had insisted on showing him that afternoon. Not to mention always having to carry the heavier shopping bag.

Still, William might not mind all that much if Kate were his girlfriend.

‘What do you think Will? Should I get one for Mum?’ she said holding a bauble up to the last bit of daylight there was left.

‘Urm, yeh?’ he replied, looking over to his protection officers who blended into the crowd like two bored men waiting for their wives.

‘Oh I don’t know though, she might not like it. It’s one of those marmite things, you know, she’ll either love it or hate it’

William nodded, ‘how much is it?’

‘Twelve pounds’

‘For ONE bauble?!’ he exclaimed.

‘You’re paying for the quality and the craftsmanship’ she explained.

‘Extortionate’ he muttered so the vendor couldn’t hear him.

‘Oh don’t start that again’ she laughed putting the bauble down and walking away from the little wooden hut a little mournfully.

It was a fact well known that William Wales hated Christmas. He thought it a brazen excuse for companies to rip people off. Who says you should have a turkey, a tree, and a mound of brussel sprouts at the table? And why, oh why must Christmas songs be obligatory from November onwards?

As they walked back to their little home in Hope Street, Kate rattled off all the things she still needed to get for their house Christmas meal.

‘We still need crackers, and to decorate the tree, oh and I should fish out my snowman slippers!’

If William weren’t as enamoured with Kate as he was, he would find this irritating. But the plain fact was that just recently, he found nothing about Kate irritating.

The way she threw her hair behind her shoulders, sending a gentle waft of her shampoo scent in his direction. The manner in which she gently touched his arm when she was teasing him. He liked everything, every little thing.  

‘I think the snowman slippers are going a bit far’ he said drily.

‘Oh bah humbug!’ she retorted.

Just as he was about to tell her how her festive spirit was all a concoction of the media driven world, a small ball of energy, about knee height crashed into them.

‘Whoa’ Will shouted, almost dropping his bag.

‘Tim!!!’ screeched a high Scottish voice.

From around the corner leading up to Hope Street came a rather dishevelled looking woman. From a far, she looked like she could be fifty, with dark thin hair and bags under her eyes. As she grew closer, however, it was clear to William and Kate that she was thirty at the most.

‘Say sorry Tim!’ she shouted at the little boy, who was now peering into William’s carrier bag.

‘Sorry’ he said.

‘It’s fine’ Kate said kindly.

Tim, like his mother, was scrawny and tiny too for his ten years.

‘Righ’ come on’ Tim’s mother said, grabbing him and pulling him along the street.

‘But Ma, they’ve go’ a turkey!’ they heard him say, ‘you said  the shops were all out o’ turkeys!’

‘They must’ve gone somewhere fancy, we can’nae afford somewhere fancy’ she replied.

It was true, William and Kate had queued for half an hour for their turkey from a high end butchers in town.

‘But I want a turkey this Christmas!’ he moaned.

‘I said no! We’ll have ham’

Their voices were cut off when they entered one of the terraced houses on the street William and Kate were walking down.

‘I feel terrible now’ Kate said, looking down at their overflowing bags.

‘Don’t, if we hadn’t been preconditioned to associate turkeys with Christmas, that little boy wouldn’t know any different’

‘Do you ever get tired of being a Scrooge?’ she asked.

‘No’ he laughed.

‘What made you hate Christmas so much anyway?’ Kate said as they approached their house.

‘No reason’ William said. ‘I just do’

 Christmas Past

‘Where are you going!?’ she shrilled.

‘I told you, I have a meeting’ he responded calmly.

‘I don’t believe you’ she said defiantly.

‘Well that’s not my problem’

William stood behind the door, peeking through the crack at the two figures inside his father’s study. He couldn’t see much, just the odd shadow or a splash of blonde hair going back and forth.

‘I don’t want you to go!’ she continued.

‘I have to’

‘Please Charles…’

Sometimes the shadows would come closer and William would jump back quickly, scared to be found eavesdropping.

After a minute’s silence, the voice of his mother came again, but quietly this time. ‘I know where you’re really going’ she said at almost a whisper.

‘I am going to a meeting’ he said sternly.

‘Why must you lie? Why must you lie to me?’

William could hear the familiar closing of her throat, her voice becoming wobbly. He pressed his eye closer to the door crack.

‘William, what are you playing?’

William was almost thrown backwards by his heart jumping at the shock of his six year old brother’s voice behind him.

‘Shhhhhh’ he ordered quietly, turning around with his hands on his hips. ‘Go away’

‘Why?!’ Harry said at his normal volume.

‘I said shhh!, it’s grown-ups only’

‘You’re not a grown up’ Harry sulked.

‘I’m more of a grown up than you now push off’. He attempted to push his brother down the hallway, but he wouldn’t budge.

‘I’m gonna tell mummy and papa you were spying’ Harry said, poking his tongue out.

The voices inside the study began to raise once again, footsteps approaching the door.

‘It’s Christmas in two days Charles! Please think of the boys!’

The footsteps stopped briefly. ‘I must go, I’m sorry’.

Darkness covered the whole crack of the door and William sprang to action.

‘Go, move!’ he said, pushing Harry down the hallway and around a corner just as the door swung open. Neither Harry nor William dared peek to watch their father descending the stairs, but they heard him. Seconds later, their mother’s heels clicked on the hardwood and she shouted over the bannister.

‘I hope you’re happy! You’ve ruined Christmas! Ruined it!’

A door slammed. Then there was silence.

‘Go back to the playroom’ William told Harry as they released themselves from the soldier like stance against the wall.

‘Where are you going?’

‘I’ll come in a minute’

‘And we can play spies again!?’ Harry brightened.

‘Yes, we can play spies’ he agreed.

Harry ran off, leaving William to tread carefully down the hall, purposely avoiding the creaky floorboards he knew so well. He went into the study and pulled a few tissues from the tissue box on his father’s desk and set off to find the familiar sound of sobbing.

It wasn’t long before he found it, at the end of the hall in the first floor bathroom.

‘Mummy?’ he said to the shut door. There was no response, just the harmony of sobs.

‘Mummy?’ he said again. She couldn’t hear him, so consumed by her sorrow as she was.

Deftly, William kneeled onto the floor and pushed each tissue under the door one by one. Then he waited, and waited and waited until finally she came out, mascara wiped from her cheeks, her smile back on her face, but the sparkle gone from her eyes.   

Christmas Present

William had never told anyone that it was that Christmas when he was eight years old that has ruined it for him for years to come. No-one need know how his parent glared at each other in stony silence over the turkey at the dinner table. They didn’t need to know how Charles had lavished gifts on the boys that year, only for Diana to say he was ‘trying to make up for something’ when she thought they weren’t listening.

He’d never enjoyed Christmas since that year, and after his mother passed, it seemed even more meaningless.

‘We’re home!’ Kate called to their housemates, as she brushed her boots onto the door mat.

Fergus bounded down the stairs, eager to lay his hands on the sweet treats they’d bought.

‘Don’t let him near them!’ Kate said immediately to William, ‘they’re for tomorrow’

‘What a taskmaster’ Fergus laughed. ‘Was she like this all day?’

William stared at Kate dopily but said nothing. Their hands had just touched when she took his bag off him and he was reeling from the after effects.

‘Helloooo?’ Fergus said. ‘Bit distracted are we?’

William frowned at his friend, but Kate was so caught up in her festive haze that she didn’t notice.

‘Can you two unpack this stuff? I need to put up the tree’ she called from the kitchen where she placed the shopping down. ‘But no snacking, Will I’m trusting you to keep him in check’

She flashed a wide grin at him, causing butterflies to flutter inside his stomach.

‘I’ll rugby tackle him if I have to’ he said.

After Kate had gone upstairs to relay the wonders of the Christmas Market to Olivia, Fergus set about interrogating William.

‘So did you talk to her?’ he said, inspecting a gingerbread man.

‘About what?’ he replied, his cheeks flushing.

Fergus sighed, ‘About you two, you should do it before Christmas’

‘There’s no rush’

‘Not if you’re not worried about her going home for a few weeks and kissing some loser from Bucklebury under the mistletoe’

William didn’t reply to this, focussing instead on a bottle of wine.

‘I’m just saying, you don’t wanna leave it too late, Kate’s a good one’

‘I know that’

William more than knew that. But beneath it all, he was shy and insecure and did he really want a steady girlfriend anyway? He tore open the gingerbread man to distract himself.

‘William!’ came Kate’s voice from the stairs as she spotted him eating the biscuit.

‘Sorry’ he smiled. ‘Couldn’t resist’

She tutted and rolled her eyes at him.

‘You keep telling me to get into the festive spirit, so I did!’ he teased and read from the label of the gingerbread, ‘“enjoy your Christmas with Gingerbread George” – see he told me to eat him’

Kate pulled it off him and snapped off the arm to taste ‘Gingerbread George knows that festive spirit isn’t about eating yourself silly’

‘You tell him Kate!’ Fergus chimed in. ‘It’s about drinking yourself silly too’

Kate scowled at Fergus playfully, ‘it’s about spending time with your loved ones and being thankful that you have them’

‘Isn’t that thanksgiving?’ William teased.

‘Yeh and Christmas is about Jesus?’ Fergus added.

‘You two are impossible!’ she huffed jokingly.

As Kate went over to the living area to decorate the tree, Fergus saw an opportunity to leave them alone, patting Will on the back and sprinting upstairs.

‘So what do you do on the actual day?’ Will asked, helping her to attach some baubles to the tree.

‘We usually go to church, and take a nice walk, play board games…oh and dad usually buys some kind of fancy dress outfit and turns up in it’

Will laughed at the thought of Mr Middleton in fancy dress.

‘Pretty similar to our family Christmas then, minus the fancy dress’ he said.

‘See, not so different, you and me’ she said with a nudge.

‘Apart from you actually like Christmas!’

‘I’ll make a convert of you yet, just you wait’

‘I doubt I’ll ever enjoy it’ he said, his mother’s dulled blue eyes suddenly popping into his head.

‘Maybe when you have kids you’ll change your mind’ she said placing the star at the top of the tree.

William scoffed, ‘doubt it’

Then would’ve been the perfect time to talk to her about how he felt. Surely that little nudge was a sign?

Kate looked at him expectantly, like she was waiting for him to say something. But his thoughts had been clouded by memories of Christmas’ past, the stale feeling it gave him, the one he thought he’d never get over.

‘No, Christmas is about money and pretending to like people you wouldn’t talk to any other time of the year’

Kate shook her head; clearly her patience with William’s attitude was waning.

‘Well I’ll enjoy it regardless’ she said plainly, getting up and heading upstairs again.

Will cursed himself; he’d just missed his chance.

 Christmases Yet To Come  

That night, he slept fitfully, images of Kate and Gingerbread George floating in his mind. He had probably eaten too much of it, he thought as he drifted uncomfortably from reality to dream.

He found himself standing in a large living room, a sparkling tree in the corner, a cream sofa covered in thick throws and a fire crackling under the mantelpiece.

To his shock, out from one of the rooms came someone who looked very much like himself. Well a version of himself that he almost didn’t recognise. This William had bags under his eyes and much less hair, but he was smiling, beaming even at something he was holding in his arms.

‘Rockin’ around the Christmas tree, at the Christmas party shop’ he sang, bouncing the thing up and down in his arms.

‘Those aren’t the lyrics’ came a voice he knew so well.

Kate appeared from the room looking just as, if not even more beautiful than William knew her.

‘It’s Christmas party hop, not shop, that doesn’t make any sense’ she added.

‘Alright Mother Christmas!’ he laughed. ‘Mummy’s such a know-it-all isn’t she?’

It was only then that Will noticed what his older self was holding. A bouncing baby boy.

Was it his? Surely it couldn’t be his.

‘George, tell daddy that mummy does know it all, yes I do’ she said tickling the baby’s stomach. ‘Especially about Christmas’

Kate held up a tiny red knitted jumper that she’d had behind her back, a reindeer design was on the front.

‘That’s ridiculous’ the two Williams said in unison. The younger clapped his hand over his mouth before realising that no-one could hear or see him.

‘It’s cute Will!’ Kate insisted.

‘He’s gonna be boiling in that thing’

‘He’ll be fine for a few minutes while we take some pictures, won’t you my pumpkin?’

William sighed in defeat.

As he stood observing from the corner, William recognised the look that his older self was giving Kate as the same dopy look he often gave her in their home at Hope Street. Was it conceivable that this could be his future? Married to Kate and with a baby that he sang Christmas songs to?

George screamed out as Kate tugged the jumper gently over his head.

‘He hates it!’ William shouted over the noise.

Will walked over to the sofas and sat close to the three of them, finding himself grinning at their domesticity.

Kate managed to get the jumper on and began snapping away with her camera, while William stood behind her making faces at the baby until finally after all the fuss, George cracked open a huge smile.  

‘That’s my boy!’ Kate beamed.

For the next hour, or what felt like an hour as he had no sense of time, Will followed the family around the house. He watched them as they laughed together, chatted about a trip to Australia and other everyday things. He smiled with them when they fed George, and got frustrated with them when he wouldn’t eat.

When George was safely tucked up in bed, they sat down again at the couch, and he was surprised to see his older self voluntarily switching on Miracle on 34th Street. What had happened to him?

‘I love this film’ Kate said happily, tossing her legs up onto William’s.

‘It’s a good one, especially that scene at the end in the court room’

‘Do I need to get you some tissues?’ Kate teased.

William smirked at her, as did Will.

So this was what normal family life was all about, he thought.

Just as he was about to get comfortable and watch the film with them, darkness clouded over his dream, pulling him away.

He tossed and turned in his bed, neither waking nor going back to that room in Kensington Palace. Instead, he found himself plunged into a study, just like the one his father had.

There was William, the older, sitting at the desk, writing letters. Only this time, he was even older, fifty maybe. He sat with no expression on his face, a lamp flickering on his desk. There were no pictures on his desk, no sign of his wife or child, just emptiness.

 ‘Oi’ Will shouted.

But William couldn’t hear him.

He walked around the desk and behind the chair, where he could see William dating the letters as 24th December.

‘Oi’ he repeated. ‘It’s Christmas Eve, what are you doing here alone? Shouldn’t you be with your family or something?’

Will knew instinctively that there was no Kate or George in this scenario. This was the William of a future without a family.

And he hated it. He wanted to see himself ice skating with his kids, or chasing after them with snowballs. He wanted to be forced to watch Christmas movies, and eat turkey and brussel sprouts, and spend ridiculous money on visiting Father Christmas’ grotto with George.

‘Get off your arse!’ he shouted at his older self. ‘It’s Christmas!’

‘Get up! You’re married remember?! Go to your family!’

Of course the older William didn’t move, he merely sat solemnly, and just like he’d seen somewhere before, the sparkle gone from blue his eyes.  

*

Will woke with a start, feeling like he hadn’t been asleep at all. He sat up for a few minutes dazed from being snapped out of the particularly vivid dream. But it had felt so real, he thought. He could almost taste the crackling fire from his apartment. 

On walking downstairs, unable to stay in bed any longer, he found Kate warming some croissants in the oven.

‘Morning’ she said brightly. ‘Sleep well?’

‘Not really’ he said rubbing his eyes, ‘I had the weirdest dreams’

‘About what?’

He considered for a moment telling her the truth, but maybe it was a little too strange. ‘Um Gingerbread George…he came to life’ he said.

Kate laughed.

‘Can I help you with the lunch today?’ he asked.

She eyed him suspiciously, ‘you want to help?’

‘What’s wrong with that?!’

‘No, nothing’ she said, waving a butter knife in the air, ‘just surprised that you want anything to do with Christmas, that’s all’

William smiled, ‘I promise I won’t do anything without your approval’

‘Fine, you can start on the turkey stuffing, that’s hard to mess up’ she joked.

So William and Kate set about making Christmas lunch. William was pleased to spend this time alone with Kate before they went home and once or twice he almost plucked up the courage to ask her out. The dreams from last night still ran through his mind. If he didn’t ask her now, would he end up that lonely old man working on Christmas Eve? Was it even possible that he could know a happy family life so different from those tense Christmases of the past?

By the time Olivia and Fergus emerged in the kitchen, William was still mulling over his thoughts and was alone with Kate no longer.

Timed perfectly by Kate, at one o’clock, the four of them sat down at their small table, food and drink almost falling over the edges.

‘It all looks amazing’ Olivia enthused, ‘I can’t wait for you to cut into that turkey’ she said to Kate.

The turkey was the centrepiece of the table setting, golden brown and oozing with juices and stuffing.

‘Actually I think Will should have the honours’ Kate said, slipping on her snowman slippers for the occasion.

‘Me?’ he said unconvinced.

‘You’ve shown your Christmas spirit today, plus you made most of it, it’s only fair you should carve it’.

They exchanged a look over the table, and Will knew he was doing the dopey eyes again, realising how much he liked Kate’s attention.

‘There’s enough to feed a small army here’ Fergus remarked as William picked up the knife.

Just as he was about to slice the knife through the turkey, he stopped abruptly.

‘Will?’ Kate said.

‘You’re right…you’re absolutely right’ he said vacantly.

He dropped the knife on the table and picked up the entire turkey, platter and all.

‘Um Will, are you ok? … where are you going with that?’ Kate said, concerned as William headed for the front door.

Kate, Fergus and Olivia exchanged worried glances.

‘Come with me’ Will said, attempting to put on a baseball cap while balancing the turkey with one hand.

‘Where?!’ Kate asked, but William was already on the doorstep, so she was forced to jump up and follow him.

William turned right from their home, and strode up the street purposefully. ‘Keep up!’ he teased as he turned and saw Kate rushing behind him.

They rounded a corner onto the next street and William looked searchingly at each door, finally recalling the one he wanted.

It was then that Kate understood what was happening, and she couldn’t help smiling to herself as William rang the doorbell at his chosen house.

The door opened a few inches, ‘we haven’t got any spare change’ a voice snapped from behind the door, and began to shut it again.

‘No we’re not collecting for charity’ William said quickly. ‘I’d just like to…well I have something I’d like to give you’

‘I’m not interested in finding Jesus’ she said spikily.

‘Wait please’ he said before she could slam the door in his face, ‘we met yesterday, we live down the road, your son’s Tim isn’t it?’

‘What has he done now?! TIM!!!!!!!!!!’ she screeched.

‘Nothing!’ Kate attempted, ‘please could you open the door’

The woman finally relented; opening the door fully as tiny Tim came storming down the stairs.

‘Wow! Ma look a’ tha’ turkey!’ he said, his eyes transfixed.

William grinned at his excitement. ‘It’s for you, if you’d like it’

‘Wha’ for?’ the woman said suspiciously.

William pondered for a second and then said, ‘call it Christmas spirit?’

Kate beamed and placed a hand on William’s back.

‘There’s nothing wrong with it honestly, we made it this morning, I know it’s a bit large…’

‘…but you can cut it up and put it in the freezer until Christmas day if you’d prefer’ Kate finished for him.

‘I’ve go’ three more kids in there’ she said, ‘they’ll polish that off’

‘So you’ll accept it?’ Kate said hopefully. ‘As a gift’

‘I can’nae really say no, can I?’. For the first time the woman smiled, softening her face considerably.

William handed the turkey to her, and ruffled Tim’s hair, who was still transfixed.

‘Thank you’ the woman said. ‘From all o’ us’

‘No problem’, Will said, lowering his hat and turning away.

‘Wait, what are your names?’ she said.

‘It doesn’t matter’ William said. ‘Merry Christmas to you all’

‘Merry Christmas’ she said back to them both.

*

William and Kate walked back to Hope Street partly in silence, nothing really needing to be said.

‘Do you think Olivia and Fergus will be pissed off I’ve given their turkey away?’ William asked eventually, as they walked purposely slowly.

‘We have more than enough other food’ Kate said sensibly. ‘Besides they’ll have the same opinion as me when they know where it went’

‘Which is?’ he said, smirking.

‘That you’re very sweet and even a little awesome’

William stopped in the pavement, ‘you think I’m awesome?’

‘You know I do’ she said rolling her eyes as if it was a silly question.

‘Right…well the thing is, I think you’re kind of awesome too’ he said, with all the confidence he could muster.

‘Do you?’ she gave him a smile that made him blush.

‘And I was thinking…maybe when we come back after the break, we could…um…you know’ William was bright red and running out of words.

‘Be awesome together?’ Kate suggested.

‘Yes, exactly, if you wanted to, obviously’ he mumbled.

‘I thought you’d never get the hint’ she chuckled.

‘Well I’m not very observant’ he said calmly though his spirits soaring.

Kate reached on her tip toes and kissed him on the cheek, sending the flush roaring back to his face.

Maybe that dream last night wasn’t just a dream, perhaps it was the push he so badly needed, he thought optimistically.

He looked down and saw that to his great amusement, Kate was still in her snowman slippers.

‘Nice slippers’ he teased, pulling a face at their gaudiness.

‘Oh bah humbug!’

[clumsyclifford]

i would love to read a mashton fic based on vegas, which is an idea that has been in my head since you sent it in for the playlist! i particularly like the lyrics “from coast to coast, I’ll make the most / of every second I’ve been giving with this crowd, / without a doubt, you’re all I dream about” but i would be happy no matter what you wrote

right okay well i have plans to one day write a longer better vegas fic but im capitalizing on the fact that you sent me specific lyrics from the song and just writing around those lyrics so. for the moment this will have to be enough im sorry maggie u deserve more

-

Michael loves performing more than most things.

There are certain people who take precedence — his band, for one, although that feels a little bit like cheating because his band are the reason he can perform — and his family, of course, and a case could be made for Niall Horan, and there are also a few things here and there — a chocolate milkshake at an American diner at three in the morning smack in the middle of the Northeast, the signed-by-Billie-Joe Father Of All… limited edition vinyl framed on his wall at home that’s been played exactly once, a proper pint from the bar they went to when they first arrived in London.

By and large, though, performing beats all. 

There’s an energy that is absolutely unmatched, and no matter how many times interviewers ask, Michael will never be able to put into words the way it feels to play to a crowd who are shouting your lyrics at the top of their lungs. Nobody would understand how it’s possible to get onstage feeling tired and grow more alive the longer you play, feeding off the ardor of the people, entirely detached from the usual concerns of whether or not you’ll remember how to play your part. Michael’s a good guitarist, but onstage he becomes something else, something fucking massive, a piece of something much bigger than himself.

The high lasts only for about a minute after he comes offstage, and then everything else hits him at once; the exhaustion, the sweat, all the notes he’d missed, the pounding in his head from the screams that are dulled but not deafened by the in-ears. They all crash at different times but they always crash soon after the show ends, and Michael’s usually first.

So there are a lot of reasons Michael doesn’t want to come offstage. And if anyone asks, he can offer a wide range of these answers, anything about the rush of performing, about not wanting to feel the weariness of the tour just yet, about feeling more sure about this show than anything in his life, and those wouldn’t even really be lies. They just wouldn’t be the whole truth.

Most of the reason why Michael loves to be onstage is the person sitting at the drum kit.

Ashton is twirling his drum sticks, effortless the way he always is during shows, a broad smile over his face while Luke sets them up for their next-to-last song. Michael takes the opportunity to tune up a little bit and watch Ashton. It’s one of his most favorite things ever, just to watch; he’d stare at Ashton forever if he could and still not have had enough.

Ashton glances up, catching Michael’s eye before Michael can look away, so Michael saunters over to the drums.

“How are you feeling?”

Michael gives a thumbs up. “On top of the world,” he says truthfully. His fingertips are buzzing with what could be electricity, and his guitar feels so light it could almost be floating. “You?”

“Same,” Ashton says, without faltering in his grin. “You’re sounding great.”

“You messed up a few times, but we’ll discuss it after the show,” Michael replies, smirking. Ashton flips him off. “I’m kidding. You sound awesome. Amazing. Like always.”

“Not always. I sound pretty bad sometimes.”

“Only when you’re singing in the shower.”

“I don’t sing in the shower!”

Michael holds up an air-microphone. “Sweet Caroline, bah-bah-bah!”

“That was one fucking time!”

“Yeah, and I’m gonna remember it forever, and laugh at you whenever I hear the song. So thank you.”

Ashton rolls his eyes; somehow he hasn’t stopped smiling, and in fact his smile is even wider. “You should probably get back to your station,” he says. “I think Luke’s stalling to start the song.”

As if on cue, Michael hears, “Oi, Mike! Is it social hour? Are we playing a show?”

Michael grins and winks at Ashton, then slides smoothly back to his microphone. “Sorry, sorry,” he says. “Ashton and I were just plotting how best to destroy you.”

“We’re thinking of putting you on a cooking show,” Ashton puts in from his mic. Michael loves him so much.

The crowd laughs. Luke just rolls his eyes, fond and unable to be cross when they’re playing a show, when this many people are here just for them, to hear their music, and across the stage Calum blows Michael a kiss. He catches it in the air and presses it to his heart; Calum grins and gives him the OK sign with his fingers.

“Anyway,” Luke says pointedly, and then he carries on with the show, introducing She’s Kinda Hot with very little additional preamble, and Michael starts to play it — the riff had been hard the first couple of times but now he could do it in his sleep, so instead of overthinking every note, his eyes roam the crowd, several thousand — a number Michael doesn’t remember but is absurdly high — people here to see them, to see him, some who have put in countless hours listening to their album and making signs and buying merchandise from them already. Michael feels like he’ll burst from the love, and wonders if it’s coming from him or from them. Or if there’s even a difference. They love his band, but not as much as he loves his band.

Ashton’s solo is his favorite part of this song. Not because he has a crush on Ashton. Musically, it’s the most fun, and Ashton has a really great voice for it, and he likes the little call-and-response part, and, okay, also because he has a crush on Ashton and this is basically his free chance to gaze in wonder while Ashton sings.

When the solo rolls around Michael turns his body to watch Ashton, shamelessly drinking in the sight; Ashton, a bandana barely keeping back his sweat-soaked hair and a glistening sheen of perspiration all down his face, neck, and arms, muscles tensing as he plays, tank top sticking to his chest. The lights from the stadium reflect strangely off his skin, giving him a gleaming aura that has Michael blinking sight back into his vision. 

Ashton is everything. He really, really is.

Halfway through the solo he catches Michael’s eye for just a second, and Michael doesn’t look away, caught up in the moment. Ashton smiles so wide his face could break from it and Michael feels that smile right down to his toes. The warmth stays in his chest, unbroken, untouchable.

They stumble off-stage, all four reaching out for full water bottles before they have to go back on for the encore. Michael’s off last — he’s standing farthest from where they come on — and the three others are already gasping out breaths between long chugs of water as he takes his own.

“Well, you all sound terrible, and I sound great,” Calum declares, one arm so tightly around Luke’s shoulders that Michael would be hard-pressed to try and separate them. Not that he’d ever feel compelled to. Ashton comes over and slings an arm over Michael’s shoulders, too, and Michael immediately squirms.

“Gross,” he says, “you’re all sweaty.”

“That’s how you like me,” Ashton says, pressing a kiss to Michael’s cheek.

“No PDA before we finish the encore,” Luke says loudly, pointing an accusing finger at the two of them.

“You’re just jealous that Ashton kissed me and not you,” Michael says. “Ashton, go kiss Luke. He’s feeling left out.”

“I don’t want to kiss Luke,” Ashton says, affronted. 

“I’ll kiss Luke,” Calum says. Before any of them can say anything about it, Calum pulls Luke’s face towards him and kisses him square on the mouth.

Luke looks like he’s been hammered between the eyes when Calum pulls away. “You’re such a sneaky little shit,” he says. “I have to go sing, you know.”

“I have to sing too!” Calum protests. 

“Wait a minute,” Michael says, feeling like perhaps he’s missed something. “How — what?”

“Does this mean I have to kiss you now?” Ashton asks Michael, a glint in his eye. “Because I’m not strictly opposed.”

“Stop it,” Michael says. “They just kissed!”

“They’re adults,” Ashton says.

“You’re not strictly opposed?” Michael says belatedly. “The fuck’s that mean? Are you for or against?”

“Shit,” Luke says, handing off his water bottle. “Gotta go back on. Encore time encore time encore time!” He races onstage, Calum in tow, and Michael groans.

“Worst band in the world!” he says as Ashton gives him one final, cheeky look before sliding away and returning to the stage. Michael follows after, playing the intro to She Looks So Perfect, which is as natural as breathing at this point.

The song goes well, and Michael remembers, having temporarily grown distracted, how fucking good this show has been, how the energy of the crowd is building up under his skin, making him practically vibrate with it despite the steady hands on his guitar. When the song ends, they take their bow and then head backstage. Michael finally takes a towel to wipe himself clean of sweat; the other boys do the same. Ashton gets two towels, because he’s always the grossest.

“So?” Michael asks, loping over to where Ashton is leaning against the wall, drying himself off. “For or against?”

“For or against what?” Ashton says innocently, but his face breaks into a ridiculous smile and he reaches to clap a hand around the back of Michael’s neck. “For, obviously.”

“Oh,” Michael says dimly, blood roaring in his ears. “Okay. Good. I mean, I hadn’t said for or against what, exactly. For all you know you’ve just agreed to my insidious plot to destroy the band from the inside or change our sound to EDM or something.”

“I’m in,” Ashton says immediately. “I’ll take down Luke, you get Calum.”

“I can’t take down Calum,” Michael says, forgetting momentarily that they’re not actually planning the downfall of the band. “He’s been my best friend for so long. I’m pretty sure that would be in violation of the bro code.”

“Okay, but taking down Luke wouldn’t?” Ashton asks, raising an eyebrow. “Fine. I’ll get Calum and you get Luke. Meet back here.”

“Wait, hold on,” Michael says, and picks back up the thread. “We’re not actually plotting the band’s destruction. You were going to kiss me, I think.”

“Was I? I don’t really recall.”

“You were. You said you were for it.”

“I believe my words were not strictly opposed.”

“You said for, obviously, like twenty seconds ago. Like literally twenty.”

“Hmm,” Ashton hums, tipping their foreheads together. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

Ashton gives his biggest smile yet. Michael feels the corners of his own mouth tug upward to mirror it, and Ashton leans in, presses a gentle kiss to Michael’s lips, and pulls away. Michael’s buzzing all over, head full of AshtonAshtonAshtonAshton.

“Oh, hmm,” he murmurs, a little speechless, midway between the adrenaline high of the show and the total post-performance crash. Heavily leaning into Ashton, he says, “I’m gonna fall asleep in like five minutes but we will definitely continue this when I’m not about to be dead on my feet.”

Ashton pats his shoulder reassuringly. “I’m not strictly opposed to that.”

Michael smiles and decides: there are few things he loves more than performing, but Ashton Irwin is one of them.

[miscreantsmadness]

Day 1

Main quests day 1

Summary

The player first arrives at Moorland Stables and gets introduced to everyone working there, and of course their very own horse! We also help Thomas sabotage GED so that he gets more time to figure out how to handle the situation. Eventually he gets the title deed back, but a masked rider steals it from him! Luckily, we manage to get it back. 

We help Ydris set up his circus. 

We try to deliver some buns to the castle, but no one answers the door. We eventually meet up with the butler for a delivery of wine samples and he explains that The Baroness has been very busy. He tells us that if we want to explore the the Equestrian Center we should speak to Linda, but quickly corrects himself and instead says that we should speak to some other stable girl. 

Complete quest dialogue below the cut

Justin: Hi! You must be Name. Nice to meet you and welcome to Moorland! My name is Justin and I run this stable with my dad. 

It’s pretty hectic right now... A lot of things are happening here, but forget about that for now! You’re new and I don’t want to bother you with out problems during your stay. 

Over there is your horse who will be your horse for the summer. Take him for a quick ride so that you get to know each other. Ride off and talk to Maya who is in the yard next door. 

Maya: Hi, I’m Maya! Nice to meet you, Name! It’s great that you chose to come to Moorland! Welcome! 

This is the best place ever to spend your summer vacation. I’m doing a bit of work in the stables around here to earn some extra Jorvik Shillings, it’s always good to have pocket money. Come back to the stables later and I’m sure we can find you a job. 

There is so much to show you and talk to you about, but first you should go and speak to Jenna. She can tell you a little more about how things work here in Moorland. 

Jenna: Hi, Name! I’ve been expecting you!

Hi! You’re Name? Welcome to Moorland Stables! 

Normally Thomas Moorland shows new visitors around, but he’s very busy right now. I don’t know if you’ve heard about the horrible company, GED, who want to demolish the stables and build luxury condos? 

But enough about that. Before I let you ride off beyond the stable gates, you have to show me that you can ride. There is a small yard behind me. Show me that you know the basics and ride around the square track. Ride one lap and come back to me! 

Fantastic! Nice work on the square track. You and Your Horse really worked as a team. Keep it up! 

I think you’re ready for some bigger challenges. As promised, you’re now allowed to gallop freely outside the stable walls! 

A while later the same day

Justin: My dad, Thomas, wanted to meet you. Apparently he wants to ask you about something important. I’m scared it might be about our troubles here. 

Mr. Kembell, a nasty boss from the company, GED, is doing everything he can to evict us so that he can demolish the stables and build luxury condos here. We’re still trying to figure out what we can do to stop him, but he’s as slippery as an eel. 

Thomas: Thank you for coming so fast, Name. The situation with Mr. Kembell from GED is getting out of hand and I need your help. 

I just heard that he has almost convinced the Council that GED has the rights to the land and there is hardly any time left to stop him. Right now his creepy surveyors are setting up their equipment so that they can make a detailed map for the planned demolition. 

I’m the true owner of this land but I need time to prove that to the council. 

Can you help me save Moorland stables?

We have to delay Mr. Kembell’s surveyors to buy some time. All you have to do is turn off their GPS equipment. They’re setting them up in the area outside the stable, between here and the hills where their construction site is. 

I’ve marked more or less where the GPS equipment is on your map. Good luck! 

Splendid! Good work! I truly appreciate it. That will delay them for a while. Now I’ve at least got a little time to build my case against Mr. Kembell for the Council. 

What am I going to do, Name? Mr. Kembell is really putting pressure on me with all these legal documents. I’m sure I could stop him if I just had a little more time. Hmm...If he wants to play dirty I’ll show him that he has met his match. 

Let’s see, ride past the blacksmith’s and up towards the hills. Along the road there is a power distribution box, just where the road turns at the construction site. It should be possible to turn off that horrible sign by turning off the power there. Here, I’ll mark it on your map. 

Ha ha! I think I can hear that nasty man shouting all the way over here! Now I have a bit more time - just what I needed. Now we don’t have to see that horrible GED sign anymore! 

All I need to do is prove that I actually own the land. Then I can stop Mr. Kembell. There is a deed to Moorland Stables that my father was given over fifty years ago by The Baroness of Silverglade, who lives in the castle. 

I can’t find the documents here but I think that our old accountant, Mrs. Holdsworth, must know where the title deed is - she knows everything about our business. She retired last year and now spends her days taking care of the flowers outside her little cottage. Go see her, she should be able to tell you where the documents are. 

Mrs. Holdsworth: Why hello, dear. What can I do for you?

Hmm...Let me think. I believe there was a deed of ownership, but it got lost some years ago. When Thomas Moorland’s wife, Catherine, died in childbirth, Thomas lost all interest in papers and documents and just wanted to spend time with his horses. All the paperwork was put in a chest and sent over to Catherine’s father, and there’s a good chance that the title deed was in that chest. Her dad is Jasper Holbrook and the child that was born is, of course, Justin. 

Jasper blames Thomas for Catherine’s death and they haven’t spoken in twenty years. It’s a tragedy that this feud has been going on for so long, but if anyone has the title it would be old man Jasper. It won’t be easy convincing him to part with it, though. Good luck, dear!

Jasper: Well you found me! And now you can leave me alone again!

Bah! What do I care if Moorland Stables is razed to the ground? That place killed my daughter and I have hated the Moorlands for the better part of twenty years. If you think you can change that you’re welcome to try, but I won’t help you. 

Justin: Hi Name! Have you been to see my grandfather, Jasper? That crazy old man hates us and nothing would please him more than to see our stable razed to the ground. 

I don’t know how I could make that old fool of a grandfather change his mind. I know that my mom really loved my dad, Thomas. What happened was a terrible tragedy. 

I have these letters from my mom and dad that they wrote to each other before they got married. They prove it was true love. I’ve been thinking of showing them to my grandfather, Jasper, but never really dared. If he saw them he would realize that Catherine and Thomas really loved each other. Maybe you can show him? 

Take these letters and show them to Jasper, they should make some kind of impression on him!

Jasper: What? Are you here again? What’s with all the papers? 

Let me have a look at that - it looks really old. 

I recognize that handwriting...

Is it true? Were they really written by my daughter? 

When I read these letter from by beloved daughter, my heart weeps! I’ve been such a proud idiot all these years and it’s cost me my grandson...Sob sob! 

I have the title deed and of course I will give it to Thomas Moorland. That slime ball, Mr. Kembell, is a disgrace to this island. Here is the key to my deposit box in Fort Pinta - you’ll find the title deed inside. Collect it and bring the key back to me before you say anything to Thomas Moorland. 

From now on you can ride across my land whenever you want. 

Thanks for getting the title deed! These are the old legal documents that show that Thomas is the rightful owner of Moorland Stables. 

And you brought my key back too. Great, thank you. Thanks once again! 

Well, what do you know? My frosty heart is now warm, after twenty years in the cold. Young lady, I give you this title deed to Moorland Stables, you have certainly earned it. Thomas will definitely be happy now. 

Thomas: Holy horses! You have saved the stables from demolition! 

Finally, I can prove that I’m the rightful owner of Moorland Stables and it’s all thanks to you. I will show this to the council and then Mr. Kembell will have no choice but to stop construction of the new buildings. 

I don’t know how to thank you, I owe you more than I could ever repay you. 

A while later the same day

Maya: I don’t suppose you lost a horse? A big foofy girl with a black coat, a draft horse I think? Sorry, I can’t be more specific but we don’t see a lot of horses like that around here, especially not ones with an attitude like that. She’s so...

Y’know what? You should probably just go check her out for yourself, see if you can find any leads about who she belongs to. I’d rather this get sorted before the boss finds out. We’ve got a lot of new arrivals here at the riding camp who don’t know their way around horses the way you do, so it’s sort of a liability thing. 

She’s over at the dock on the beach just west of here. 

Player: This must be the horse Maya was talking about. 

(There’s a note attached to the bridle). 

“Property of the AMAZING YDRIS! If found, please return to Nilmer’s Highland along with any cargo and you shall be rewarded handsomely” 

“P.S. -- In case of stubbornness, use cookies”

“P.P.S. -- But not too many, no matter how much she begs.” 

Ydris: Stop! Do not tell me who you are. The Amazing Ydris knows all! 

I am Ydris. “Ydris the Amazing!” “The Magnificent!” “The Phenomenal!” Call me anything you wish as long as it’s not “ordinary.” 

And you must be...Xanthippe? Yosephine? Zoriya? ...Name? I must have a little psychic power after all. 

A great fool once said, “the noblest art is that of making others happy.” That is just what I intend to do here, in Jorvik -- make people happy. And, who knows, perhaps someday the joy I bring can spread to the entire world! Wouldn’t that be grand? 

How do I hope to spread my gospel of delight? By following in the footsteps of the aforementioned fool. With a CIRCUS! 

And what a circus it shall be! Magic, miracles, mischief! Your every dream will come true. And of course, this being Jorvik, there will be a special place for horses. 

But I can’t do it alone. That is why I sent dear Zee on a very important mission. Did you find what I asked for, my four-legged friend? 

Zee: *nudge* 

Ydris: Name, if you would be so good as to open the box and place the contents on the pedestal there, I will show you another good trick that I know. 

Voila, a simple wooden mask! Masks are one of the most powerful forms of magic. They allow one to become someone else. They can render the wearer’s true self invisible. So, perhaps this mask is not so “simple” after all?

Xin, what a proper fool you are! It’s no wonder you’re my favorite companion! 

Zee: *snort*

Ydris: Of course, Zee. You are also my favorite. We are all one big happy family of misfits. No need to be jealous! 

Xin, say hello to our new friend Name, brought into our circle as if by destiny. Now now, don’t be shy! 

Xin: .............

Ydris: Merci, my sweet. 

Now that we are all properly introduced, let us det down to brass tacks. 

The four of us are going to build a circus together. Actually, make that five of us. Your Horse is part of our family now too. 

Zee: *glare*

Ydris: First up, the big top! Name, if you wouldn’t mind pulling the tent out of the crate over there -- it’s not there is it? Hold on, I know it’s around here somewhere. Whoops! Well, one of those has to be the right one. Step to it, Name! Find our tent! 

After building the tent

Ydris: Our big top is missing something... Of course! The cherry on top of our sundae of dreams. A luminous sign to welcome my guests to the show. Now where did I put the sign...?

Perfect! Our circus shall light up the night, bringing in guests like moths to a flame! Yes, a conflagration of delights! We will put on such shows here, the likes of which this world has never seen. And I have YOU to thank. 

Let no one tell you that you’re just another silly girl with a head for horses. Stick with me, my dear girl, and we’ll bing down the house! 

A while later the same day

Thomas: What in the world? A masked rider just came by and stole the original deed! Ride after him! He’s over there by the gate! Hurry!! HURRY Name! Catch him! 

Well done. I will try to hide the papers better this time, sorry. There was something strange about the horse? Ghost-like, you say? Um...I really can’t say - it all happened so fast. I’m sure it was just a regular horse with an unusually nasty owner. 

I need you to visit the town hall for me, ok? These copies of the deed should be there if something should happen to the original. There must never again be the slightest doubt that I own this land! 

Here are the documents. Hold on to them tightly! 

Council man: And what have we here, young lady? A deed from Mr. Moorland, I see. I’ll file these away safely. 

A while later the same day

Harold: Once a month we deliver a jar of cookies to the castle. These cardamom cookies are greatly appreciated by The Baroness. Will you take them over there, please? Ride there on thet beautiful horse of yours and you’ll get there in no time. 

Player: Nobody is answering the door. There’s nothing to do but head back to the store. Unless I want to taste one of those cardamom cookies...They smell divine. 

As nobody is answering the door, I guess the best thing to do is head back to the store. 

Harold: The castle was closed? Nobody answered the door? You know, lately there have been some rumors about that place. Someone said they heard what sounded lika a young girl crying. Frankly, I don’t know what to think. Lately, The Baroness has seemed anxious. 

Have I heard the crying? I can’t say I have. Actually, it kind of sounds like a silly ghost story to me. The Baroness’ family, the Silverglades, run way back in history. They have been the most influential family in Jorvik since...I don’t know when, maybe hundreds of years. 

Here are some wine bottle samples that The Baroness has requested. See if you can deliver them to the butler, he should be at the vineyard. Ride carefully! The bottles are fragile. 

Godfrey: Miss? Oh, the bottle samples, great. Thank you. What? Yes, the Winter has been hard indeed, for the manor as well. How is The Baroness? You heard that she was very busy - I see. Well, one could say that she’s had a lot on her mind lately with GED exploiting the land and all. She’s building a new racetrack as well, which of course takes a lot of time and effort. But I’ll see that she gets these. Certainly, miss. Good bye. 

Sorry? A stable? Why of course we have a stable here: the Silverglade Equestrian Center - the noblest stable in Jorvik, miss! You come from Moorland? Well, you should indeed pay a visit to the Equestrian Center: it houses some of the best performing horses on the island. 

Why don’t you speak to Linda...Hold on...What am I saying - not Linda! Ha, ha! Not Linda, miss. There are other stable girls over there, however. I think one of them is called Judy. Judy will be able to help you. 

Judy: Hi, Name! Of course I know who you are, I’m so glad you’re here! I’m Judy by the way. I spoke to Thomas Moorland earlier and he told me that you and Your Horse are really great together, like you’ve truly bonded. That makes me happy since You Horse is the horse I used to ride when I first started out as a stable girl at Moorland. He’s a wonderful horse and deserves a rider that understands him. 

Anyway, we’re short on people here since Linda went away. Thomas said that if you happened to come by, I should ask you if you would be willing to help out a bit here. 

End of day one. 

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Masterpost  - find all the parts of the main quests here

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