director jjk @arcticguk - Tumblr Blog

Dec 26, 2020

santa baby | knj

❅ pairing, au, warnings: kim namjoon x reader, fluff, allusions to smut, angst, emotionally and verbally abusive parents, swearing, fake dating au, best friends to lovers au, christmas au

❅ précis: you ask namjoon to be your pretend boyfriend for the holidays.

❅ word count: 4,667

❅ part of my holiday drabble series

❅ a/n: pls lmk if u need me to tag anything extra! i put stuff in the warnings, but do not hesitate to tell me if it’s not enough. also we’re gonna ignore the fact that this fic is so much longer than any of my other xmas ones :)

“Namjoon, please?”

“No.” He says firmly, shoving another spoonful of noodles into his mouth. “If this is the only reason you invited me to dinner, I’ll stop coming.”

You snort, loudly. “Like that’ll ever happen. You can’t cook for shit.”

He frowns, setting his fork down beside his near-empty bowl. “And if I do this for you, what will I get in return?”

“Besides my lovely friendship?” You smirk, earning a glare from Namjoon. “I’ll make you dinner every night for a month.”

He presses his lips together, contemplating. “Sold!”

You roll your eyes playfully, flicking his forehead.

“Hey now!” He scolds. “Is that any way to treat your fake boyfriend?”

Your family was very big on appearance. They didn’t care that you sister and her husband practically hated each other, as long as they plastered on fake smiles and put on a good show in front of everyone. They didn’t care that your little brother and his boyfriend had been broken up for two months, they paid the boyfriend to come to a family event and pretend to be infatuated with your brother for one night.

You’d showed up solo to Christmas in the past, but according to your parents, this year was important. They were throwing a huge Christmas Eve party with all of their friends, coworkers, and extended family. They’d made it very clear that if you weren’t going to show up with someone, then you might as well just not show up at all.

And you knew you should just say fuck it and not go. That’s what your brother was doing, but deep down, as much as you hate to admit it, you still crave your parents’ validation and praise.

Namjoon knows how rocky your relationship with your parents is, that’s why he was so against the idea in the first place, but here you were, packing for a trip home with your ‘boyfriend’.

“Okay, we need a backstory.” Namjoon says from the passenger seat. Reaching for the coffee in your cupholder to steal a sip. “Like how we met and started dating.”

“Wait!” He perks up. “Do your parents know that we’re friends? Because then we could say we were friends and then fell for each other or—”

You cut him off with a sharp shake of your head. “No, they don’t know. I don’t tell them very much about what goes on in my life.”

“Okay.” He says softly.

You crack a smile, biting your lip to keep tears at bay, ones you didn’t even realize had formed.

“So, this backstory huh?”

Namjoon grabs both his duffel and yours, helping you shoulder your backpack as he does the same. You take a shaky breath before slamming the car door shut. Namjoon reaches for your hand, giving it a light squeeze.

“Five days,” He breathes in your ear. “You’ve got this.”

You squeeze his hand in thanks, pocketing your keys with your other hand. “Let’s go then?”

You and Namjoon make your way up the front walk, observing the perfectly decorated façade of the house, something you know your parents paid good money for. Before you can ring the bell, the door is yanked open, both your mother and father standing there to greet you.

“___!” Your mother chirps, pulling you in for a hug. She squeezes for a second before letting you go, prompting your father to do the same.

“And who is this handsome young man?” Your mother wonders.

“This is Namjoon.” You swallow. “My boyfriend.”

Your mother smiles, clasping her hands together underneath her chin. “Oh, how wonderful!” She squeaks. “You didn’t tell me you were dating anyone.”

You shrug helplessly. “I wanted to surprise you!”

“And what a lovely surprise it is.”

“So, tell me again why we have to change for dinner?” Namjoon wonders, buttoning his grey shirt. You fluff your hair once more before turning to smirk at Namjoon.

“Because, everything in this family is an event.” You say sarcastically, giggling. He laughs, wiping his palms on his dress pants.

“You did great by the way,” You comment, sliding silver hoops into your ears. “I think they love you already.”

He looks at you, admiring the way your chiffon jumpsuit fits you, how great the black material looks against your skin.

“Joon?” You wonder, ripping him out of his daze.

“What? Oh, thanks.” He smiles.

“Hmm.” You grin, reaching up to fix a piece of his hair. He’d recently dyed it black and you were obsessed, you can’t get over how good it looks on him.

“You ready for dinner?” You wonder, reaching for his hand.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” He sighs, pasting on a smile, gripping your hand tightly with his own.

As you make your way down the grand staircase, leading Namjoon, you smile with ease, surprised at the calm in your being. Family dinners always filled you with dread but having your best friend by your side seemed different, less scary.

When everyone is seated at the large, mahogany table, you start on your salad, taking a sip of water. For most of the meal, your parents focus their attention on Namjoon, peppering him with questions about his job, his education, and childhood.

Namjoon smoothly transitions the conversation back to your parents, wondering; “If ___ told you about her big promotion at work?”

Your mother’s gaze shifts to you, raising her eyebrows expectantly. “That’s great sweetheart, congratulations.” You smile at the praise, your face warming bashfully.

After dinner and dessert, you and Namjoon bid a goodnight to your parents, sister, and your brother-in-law, before heading up to your bedroom.

“Are family dinners,” Namjoon starts, tugging his shoes off, once your door is shut, “usually that tense?”

You nod solemnly, removing all your jewelry and pulling out the elastic from your hair. “You really impressed them though!” You exclaim. “And that’s not easy to do.” You mumble, looking down at your feet.

“I’m sure it is for you.” He laughs. How could your parents not be impressed by his beautiful, intelligent, kind, and brilliant best friend.

You shrug, pulling some clothes to sleep in from your bag. “I’m gonna change then the bathroom’s all yours.”

He nods, taking the opportunity to change into his own sleepwear, setting his watch on the dresser, and setting his phone on the charger.

When you emerge from the bathroom, clad in a hoodie and matching sweatpants, Namjoon smiles softly, switching with you so he can wash his face and brush his teeth.

When he exits the bathroom, you’re working your dinner outfit onto a hanger before placing it in the closet.

You flick the overhead lights off, turning on one of the bedside lamps to cast the room with a warm glow. Namjoon awkwardly stuffs his hands in his pockets.

“I can sleep on the floor.” He speaks up. You give him a look, arching an eyebrow.

“Joon, don’t be silly,” You comment. “It’s a king size bed.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

He smiles, gingerly sliding into the bed, tugging the covers over his lap. You smile, doing the same, pulling out your phone to watch something while Namjoon opens a thick novel from his bag. The two of you sit in comfortable silence, each doing something separate while together. It’s not awkward, in fact just the opposite. The space surrounding you and Namjoon is comfortable, calm, and it feels nice.

Namjoon learns that breakfast is the only meal where it is acceptable to dress down. After informing him that pajamas, are in fact, allowed when he’d gone to get dressed. After you slide into your slippers, he wraps an arm around your waist, letting you drag him down the stairs just as you had the night before.

You and Namjoon are the first people to arrive at the table, so you scoot your chair extra close to his, giggling when he stumbles getting into his chair. His smile dimples his pink cheeks, a sight that makes your heart flutter in your chest.

Your head is nestled in the crook of his neck, cheeks warm with laughter, giggles escaping your lips at the story Namjoon finished telling you. Namjoon’s lips are parted in a wide grin, one arm flung loosely around the back of your chair, the other one resting on your thigh. When your laughter has subsided, you nuzzle further into his neck, sighing heavily. Namjoon’s hand cradles the back of your head, lips near your ear.

“You doin’ okay?” He wonders softly. You nod against his neck. You reach for his free hand, squeezing it tightly with your own.

“I’m fine.” You breathe. “Just a little on edge.”

He nods in understanding, pressing a kiss to your hairline.

It was not unusual for you and Namjoon to be affectionate with each other, but this morning, butterflies were flapping in your stomach, the way Namjoon is treating you borders on couple territory.

“Well look who’s up!”

The warm, soft atmosphere Namjoon had created for you, vanishes when you hear your mother’s voice, your shoulder’s tensing, head whipping around.

“Hi, hey, good morning.” You stumble, moving you chair back to its normal spot, putting some space between you and Namjoon.

“Good morning.” Namjoon greets with a dimpled smile. He reaches for your hand underneath the table, giving it a big squeeze.

You smile at the small show of affection and squeeze back.

Your parents wait until your sister and her husband have joined at the table, taking their seats directly across from Namjoon and you.

“Orchid!” Your mother says, speaking directly to your older sister. “You should’ve seen Namjoon and ___, when we first came down.” She smiles motioning at the two of you. “They were all over each other.”

Your sister looks to you, eyebrows raised.

“We weren’t, I don’t—” You flounder for words in your haste, Namjoon smoothly cutting you off as he puts his arm around the back of your chair.

“It’s hard not to be when you’re with someone as wonderful as ___.” Namjoon chirps. You step on his foot under the table.

“Cheesy much?” You wonder, quiet, but still loud enough for the other members of the table to hear you.

“Only for you honey.” He produces a megawatt smile before pecking a kiss to your temple.

Your mother practically falls out of her seat swooning, but not before giving a pointed look to Orchid and her husband, Sungmin.

That was what your mother did. She pitted the two of you against each other, pulled out your insecurities and served them out on a silver platter. Orchid and Sungmin were on the brink of divorce, of course they aren’t affection with each other. You were just waiting for your mother to sink her claws into you.

“Oh but ___, did you hear about Orchid’s big case?” She wonders, a vile smile creeping up her face. “It’s very important and her boss has entrusted her with handling it. I have no doubts she’ll win.”

“That’s great Orchid.” You smile. “Congratulations.” You feel genuine warm feelings towards your sister, your shitty childhood making your relationship stronger. Orchid had often held you when you cried and let you sleep in her bed when you were really upset after something your mother had said.

“And ___,” Your mother shifts her attention fast enough to make your head spin. “How’s work?”

“It’s great.” You manage through gritted teeth.

“She actually just got a promotion.” Namjoon smiles. “Like I said last night, its super exciting.” You don’t miss the little dig at your mother, and you suppress the urge to laugh. He grins proudly and you can’t help but smile a little. Namjoon had been the most supportive person in your life ever since he came into, overwhelmingly proud when you became got your degree and again when you got your first serious job.

“I’ve never understood how people can find joy in accounting.” Your mother spits. “It seems boring and there’s so many numbers.”

“Actually,” You pipe up. “It’s very interesting and you can really—”

“Still, I could never do it.” She cuts you off sharply.

“___ is incredibly intelligent.” Namjoon speaks again, eyes locking right on your mother’s. “It’s not boring for her. Although I could see how it could be for those who don’t understand numbers as well.”

Your mother’s jaw drops just the slightest, before she shuts her mouth, arms falling helplessly to her lap. You could kiss Namjoon right there, no one’s ever gotten your mother to shut up like that and you revel in it.

Once your mother has composed herself, she clears her throat, gaining the attention of everyone, yet again.

“So Namjoon, what do you do?”

“I’m a writer.” He answers, posture tall and confident, his eyes right on hers again.

“That’s lovely.” She comments. “Did you know that Sungmin is a doctor?”

“I did not.” He says politely. “That’s a very admirable job.”

“So is writing!” Sungmin pipes up. “I’ve always wished I had a talent with words like that. I used to pay my friends in university to write papers for me.”

Namjoon chuckles at that, smiling.

“Namjoon writes for a magazine in our city and he does some freelance stuff for big companies too.” You say proudly and he grins at you.

“That’s awesome man,” Sangmin comments. “I’d love to read some of your stuff sometime.”

“Yeah, I can—”

“But surely writing can’t be as fulfilling as a doctor. Nothing can beat saving lives.”

Everyone straightens grimly, all smiles disappearing.

“Remember I’m a general care physician, I don’t perform major surgeries.” Sungmin smiles awkwardly.

“That doesn’t mean you don’t save lives baby.” Orchid coos, setting her hand on his forearm. “But no career is better than another.” She comments, looking directly at your mother. “Every job is important, and everyone has different things they’re passionate about.” She looks at Namjoon now. “And I think writing is wonderful. You must be really smart.” You smile at your sister in thanks and she winks.

Your mother just scoffs, finally deciding to be quiet and eat her breakfast.

That was really…intense.” Namjoon sighs, tugging a clean crewneck over his head. You look up from the mirror where you’re rubbing moisturizer into your skin.

“Hmm.” You hum in agreement. “I’m so sorry by the way. The way my mother treated you was unacceptable.”

“It’s okay.” He answers honestly. When he sees your frown deepen, he sets his hands on your cheeks.

“___. I promise you it’s fine.”

“I just feel bad. It’s bad enough you had to come here and do this but now my mother is insulting your career and—”

His thumb nudges your chin, prompting you to stop talking. “First of all, I didn’t have to come here okay? I chose to be here. And second, you are not accountable for the things that mother says. She’s not nice to you either.” He reminds you with a soft smile.

“Thank you.” You say simply. He kisses the top of your head before scrounging his suitcase for his Converse. “Okay, I’m making an executive decision for us.” You state, flopping down onto the bed. His eyebrow quirks in curiosity, smiling, encouraging you to go on.

“We’re going out.” You announce. “I can show you my hometown, we can go shopping, get food. And if we time it right, we won’t have to be here for lunch or dinner.”

“I like the way you think.” He smirks, winking as he laces up his sneakers.

You’re a little buzzed from the spiced cider you had at dinner, giggling when Namjoon helps you out of the car, one arm already full of bags from the purchases you’d both made that day.

One of the things you loved about coming home, was getting to visit all the little shops and restaurants that were set up in town. You and Namjoon spent the day supporting your local small businesses and you couldn’t have been happier. It was a great way to spend time with your best friend—and get away from your parents.

You lean into him as you make your way up the front walk, giggling again when he trips on the cobblestone, his stature pitching forward before he catches himself.

Your parents and sister are lounging in the front room, your parents seated on the large sofa, your sister and Sungmin across from them on the loveseat.

“___, Namjoon, come join us!” Your mom suggests cheerfully, a glass of red wine resting in her hand.

“Okay,” Namjoon nods. “Let us take these bags upstairs and we’ll be right back.”

Namjoon leads you up the staircase, hand on your lower back.

“We probably should hang out for a bit,” You comment. “We haven’t seen them all day.”

Namjoon nods in agreement, taking the bags from your hands, setting them in the closet alongside his suitcase.

“Lemme just change,” You say, peeling your sweater over your head, eliciting a blush on Namjoon’s cheeks, his head ducking down.

You trade your sweater and jeans for a hoodie and Christmas-themed pajama pants, heading into the bathroom to scrub off your makeup while Namjoon changes into sweatpants and a t-shirt.

Your parents look up when you reenter, smiling softly when they see the way you’ve nuzzled yourself into Namjoon’s side.

“Oh! Look what we put up earlier!” Orchid comments, pointing to the doorframe right above you and Namjoon.

Mistletoe.

“Oh, ha ha.” Namjoon chuckles awkwardly, his face heating up once again.

“Come on lovebirds,” Your sister laughs. “Give us a little show.”

“Gross Orchid.” You mumble, glaring right at her.

“You have to!” Your mother giggles. “It’s the rules.”

Namjoon looks like he wants to melt into the floor, scratching the back of his neck.

You aren’t sure if it’s the alcohol that’s lingering in your body, or how cute your best friend looks with his red cheeks, but something fills you with confidence, and you squish his warm cheeks with your hands, pressing a hard kiss to his pouted lips.

Your parents laugh and cheer, Orchid clapping good-naturedly. When you pull away from Namjoon, his eyes are wide, puffy lips parted in astonishment.

“So, this is it huh?” Namjoon wonders, straightening the red tie around his neck, which not-so-coincidentally matched the exact shade of your cocktail dress. “The big party.”

“Yup.” You nod, double checking your makeup in the mirror.

To say Namjoon was nervous about the Christmas Eve party, was an understatement. He was freaking out. He wants to make a good impression on everyone, in hopes that he can sell the lie the two of you have been living the past few days.

“You’ll be fine.”

He nods, swallowing harshly. He doesn’t admit it to you, but the party isn’t the only thing making him uneasy. You had never talked about last night, after you had kissed him, everything went on as usual, as if it never happened.

You slip into your heels, giving him a small smile.

“Alright,” You sigh softly, taking his arm. “Party time.”

You swallow another sip of champagne, gripping tightly to Namjoon’s arm. He had survived all of the introductions, and unsurprisingly, everyone loved him.

Dinner had already been served, and everyone was mingling, upbeat holiday music filtering through the speaker system, champagne and wine flowing easily.

Your parents were talking to some clients from your mother’s interior design firm, and you know without listening that she’s talking about you and Orchid.

That’s the thing about your mom—she’ll criticize every decision you make, but in front of everyone else she plays the proud, devoted parent, bragging about all of your accomplishments, as if she had anything to do with them.

Namjoon senses your discomfort and he nuzzles his cheek against the top of your head. The wine he’d been drinking had earlier served as liquid courage, but now that he was relaxed, he was just sleepier and cuddlier than usual.

“You okay?” He murmurs, lips at your ear. You nod robotically, leaning against his shoulder. Obviously, you’re not okay and he knows that, so he takes your hand, leading you outside to the back patio for a moment of fresh air.

Noticing the chill on your skin and the shiver in your movements, he drapes his suit jacket over your shoulders, wrapping an arm around you.

“You’re not okay.” He whispers. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s just,” You sigh, leaning into his embrace. “My mother. She’s so critical and finds fault in everything we do, yet when it comes to appearances and other people, she has nothing but good things to say.” You bite your lip to hold back the tears that fill your eyes, looking out into the wooded backyard. “If she really is proud, then why can’t she ever tell us?”

“Oh honey,” Namjoon frowns.

“It just feels like nothing I ever do is good enough. I work hard, I did well in school, but it’s like it’s not good enough. Why do I care so much about my parents’ approval, why can’t I just be proud of myself because I’ve done well?”

You don’t stop the tears from falling, splattering onto your cheeks and no doubt making tracks in your carefully applied makeup.

“I’m sorry.” Namjoon whispers. “I’m so sorry that you feel this way. I’m insanely proud of you and I wish you could see how wonderful you are, so deserving of love and praise.”

“I love you.” You blurt, the words spilling so easily from your lips, with a little help from the champagne in your system.

“Oh,” He smiles. “I love you too, you know th—”

“No Namjoon, I love you.” You murmur.

Something sparks in his eyes, you don’t see the way his demeanor changes, as he realizes what these feelings were—are. Spending all this time with you has made him feel different, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on the feeling. But now, he knows, he loves you too.

“Can we go upstairs?” You wonder. “I’m so tired, I can’t be down here anymore, I just want—”

He cuts you off with a nod, taking your hand and letting you lead him to the back staircase, so you can escape without anyone seeing you.

Once the door is closed—and locked, you fling off your heels, flopping onto the bed. You drag your ring finger under your eyes, in attempt to collect the mascara clumps that washed off your eyelashes with the tears you’d shed.

“I love you too.” Namjoon announces, throwing his tie and shoes in a pile before standing over you. “God, I love you so much. I never realized how I feel, but now I know and—”

You cut him off with a press of your lips on his, hands grabbing for his shoulders and pulling him down. His lips melt into yours, returning the kiss with more fervor, mouth warm and soft.

You’re gripping on his shirt, clawing at the buttons when he pulls back slightly, running a hand through his damp locks, slicking it up onto his head.

“H-honey,” He starts, stumbling over his words a little. “I don’t know if we should be doing this right now.”

“What?” You pout, sitting up. “Why not? Do you not—”

“No, no, no, trust me I want to.” He sighs. “But you’re upset, we’ve been drinking…” He trails off and you whine.

“Joon please, I want this, I want you, I love you.” You frown, setting a hand on his cheek.

He looks into your eyes, searching for an ounce of hesitation. When he doesn’t find any, he you pull him back down, hovering above your form.

“Are you sure?” He murmurs, his breath ghosting over your lips.

“Positive.” With your affirmation, he presses his lips to your own, lightly tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth.

He breathes in the groan that passes through your lips, sighing deliciously. After Namjoon’s tie is crumpled on the floor and a failed attempt at the buttons on his shirt, you tug on each side until it releases, the fabric literally ripping before you toss it away.

Namjoon only chuckles, shifting positions so that you can straddle his lap. Your hands grip his hair, exhaling when his lips meet the skin on your neck.

“I love you.” He simpers, lips behind your ear. “I love you so damn much.”

When you wake up the next morning, something’s changed. Not only between you and Namjoon—who’s currently cuddled into your side—but also the way you feel about yourself.

“Joonie,” You coo, tousling his hair. “Joon wake up, it’s Christmas.”

“Mmm, morning Christmas,” He murmurs sleepily. He nuzzles his face into your neck, eyelids falling shut.

“Namjoon,” You whisper. “C’mon. Let’s get up.”

“Please?” He whines. “Can we please sleep for a little longer before we have to go down there?”

“No Joonie, we’re going home.” You push back the covers and climb out of the bed, cold air flushing your skin.

His head snaps up, eyes perking up. “What?!”

“We’re leaving.” You announce, sliding on his t-shirt from two nights ago. “Unless, you want to stay?” You tease, raising an eyebrow.

“I’ll start packing now!” He gets out of bed, pressing a kiss to your cheek before grabbing some fresh clothes and entering the bathroom.

You dress and pack up your belongings, so that when Namjoon is ready, you are too.

The two of you hold hands down the stairs, leaving your bags by the doorway before venturing into the kitchen.

“Good morning!” Your mother chirps. “Merry Christmas!”

“Hey guys.” You greet awkwardly.

“Come, sit down—have some breakfast, then we’ll open gifts.”

“Actually Mom,” You breathe. “We’re leaving.”

“What!?”

“Namjoon and I are going to go home.”

“Absolutely not, sit down.”

“No Mom. I don’t wanna be here anymore. I thought now that I’m grown up you would actually treat me with an ounce of respect, but I was wrong.”

“Excuse me?” Your mother snaps.

“Come on honey, let’s just go.” Namjoon urges, squeezing your hand tightly. You shake your head, squeezing his hand back.

“Before we leave I have something to say, and you’re going to listen to me.” You tell your mother, tone firm yet gentle. “For my entire life I’ve taken shit from you. The verbal abuse, emotional abuse, all the digs, all the criticism. Nothing I ever did was good enough for either of you and I’m done with it. I’m happy with who I am, what I do, and who I choose to spend time with. I’m done trying to impress you, this is my life, not yours. I am more than good enough and shame on you for not seeing it.”

You take a shaky breath wiping the single tear that fell down your face while you were speaking.

“And you Dad?” You add, redirecting your gaze. “You never did say anything. Never stood up for us, and God forbid you actually were proud of us without Mom telling you, you were allowed to be.”

Your parents sit there, dumbfounded. You take a moment to catch your breath before turning to look at Namjoon, who is trying very hard to bite back his grin. Orchid’s face is a mixture of admiration and pure joy, mouthing; I’ll call you later.

“Honey, I’m sorry you feel that way.” Your mother manages, thinking for her next words.

You swiftly shake your head.

“I love you both, but we’re leaving.” You smile. “We can work through this, only if you’re willing. But for now, I want to go home and spend Christmas with my boyfriend.”

You and Namjoon turn to leave, collecting your luggage before loading up the car.

“Holy shit.” Namjoon blurts. “That was fucking amazing, I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you.” You smile. “It felt good.” He leans over to kiss you, hand cupping your cheek.

“It was also pretty fucking hot.”