#and the ones i wanted as replacements genuinely had to be ordered online

[woolandcoffee]

Found out recently that our house is notorious among the local mail carriers for receiving a noteworthy amount of packages, particularly heavy packages. Thankfully our friend at UPS has apparently assured them that we are chill, so apparently everything is fine, but this is a level of Being Perceived that I am not prepared to handle lol

[icallhimjoey]

Are you still taking requests?

If yes, I’d love to read about pure domestic bliss. Peak Soft!Joey! Things he does for us that make us go all speechless and love him even more. Little things like running us a bath when he senses we had a shit day, takes care of us when we’re home with a cold…things LIKE THAT!

I could really use that rn. <3

um, so, hyper independent reader not used to someone wanting to take care of us in the smallest of ways???? goooooooot it got it got it Wordcount: 3.3K

---

For You

You rarely asked for help.

Didn't need any.

Joe thought hard, but couldn't remember you ever asking him for anything. Or anyone else for that matter. You didn't ask for help in big ways, but also didn't ask for help in any of the small, little ways.

You did things yourself. Didn't bother people and, even though things took time and effort, and were sometimes a real bitch to figure out by yourself, you always did. Eventually.

Sorted through whatever on your own, because that's how you'd always done it. How your childhood had shaped you. What you'd gotten used to. Who you'd become as a person.

You took care of, well, everything. Were organised in ways Joe couldn't even really phantom a person being organised.

"What do you mean you just fixed my washing machine yourself?"

"Was just the little motor inside, I opened it up and it needed a little part replaced."

"What the..."

"Was easy. I watched some tutorial on how to–" you stopped, had to laugh at the face of shocked disbelief and somehow sheer annoyance he made and finished, "There's tutorials for fucking everything online, it really wasn't that hard."

Yea, Joe wasn't so sure.

"All right then, I guess I'll go and cancel the order I placed for a new one."

Because he would have never even thought of opening whatever panel on the back of whatever machine to have a look inside. To look up what he'd be looking at, and to get a screwdriver out to fiddle around inside.

It was out with the old in the the new far to easily with Joe.

Didn't go like that with you.

You took care of shit yourself. Were the person that people would come to for help. Because that's what you did. Took care of your own shit and helped others with theirs.

It took some actual getting used to for Joe.

Girls had never been like that before with him.

They'd ask for shit, would whine at him in a soft baby voice until he'd do whatever they'd asked. Sometimes it'd be cute, but it could be annoying as fuck too. He'd always cave, however, and it would somehow genuinely increase his well-being. To make someone else happy by doing a small task they asked of him. Fed his ego a bit. Upped the self-esteem a little.

And it wasn't that you didn't accept help when it was offered to you.

Not at all.

You just never asked.

It took weeks for Joe to learn that he'd have to figure out for himself what he could do to help. To take care of you sometimes.

It was why sometimes, when you'd be sat doing whatever paperwork needed doing, or answering whatever e-mails needed answering, Joe would silently wander around your flat.

Looking for things maybe he could do.

Things that maybe you'd left for a bit.

Joe wasn't big on cleaning.

Or organising.

But he could pick up clothes that were left discarded on the bedroom floor. And he could shove whatever products were left out in the bathroom into a drawer. Could open the dishwasher, dishes still dirty, but stacked all wrong, not leaving enough room for the rest that were left on the counter still. He could sort that out for you, no problem.

You always thanked him with a squeeze in his side, or soft kisses to smiley cheeks. Made Joe blush a little, knowing he'd found a thing he could do to help, to ease your load and make you happy.

Until one sort of weird Friday afternoon. It had just gone noon, and Joe received a weird text.

"quick q, did you say you had work today?"

Just things he had to read.

"they wont let me leave on my own"

What the fuck?

"Hey, what's going on? What do you mean they won't let you leave on your own?" Joe decided he needed immediate answers, and called in response to your texts.

"I'm fine," was the first thing out of your mouth, quickly followed by, "Don't worry. If you don't have the time, I can see if–"

"Answer my question, please." Joe cut you off.

"I... I don't know, I keep feeling– I'm dizzy. I lost my balance and fell when my foot got stuck on a threshold– I'm not hurt," you were quick to assure, not wanting to worry Joe.

"Did you faint?" Joe was already on his way out the door.

"No, I'm not lightheaded or anything. Just feel like I'm gonna be sick, and like, my eyes won't stay still. It's more annoying than anything else. Mary says I probably haven't slept enough, or something."

You sounded like it too. All annoyed. Frustrated by the way your body was letting you down in the middle of a work day and now had to ask someone to do something for you.

Had to ask your boyfriend to come pick you up.

Like that was the end of the world, somehow.

"All right, I'm out the door." Joe said, coat billowing behind him as his legs rushed him down the street. "Do one thing for me, yea? Don't fucking move."

Not like you could. Moving your head made you want to throw up. Maybe you just hadn't had enough water and were a bit dehydrated. Or a lot hydrated. You didn't know, but thought having water would be a good idea anyway.

You had little sips in the reception area of the office until Joe arrived.

"Hey," 

"You all right?" Joe crouched down in front of you, one hand on your shoulder, then on your cheek. He ducked his head to look you in the eye.

“Yea fine. Just dizzy when I stand. Or move. That’s all.” 

“She hurt her wrist,” Mary said loudly as she walked over.

You did a quick Joe, Mary - Mary, Joe, introducing them to each other. Joe stood up straight and they shook hands, exchanged polite smiles, and then turned their worried gazes back onto you.

“It’s fine, nothing serious,” you gave your hand a twist and turn to showcase how fine you were. When you’d suddenly lost balance, you’d braced yourself with your one free hand. It would maybe take a day or two for it to feel normal again, it had just taken a blow. 

"It'll sort itself out."

"Are you accompanying her the whole way home?"

"Yea, took the tube here, but," Joe looked at you whilst he fished his phone from his pocket. Unlocked it with his face and swiped to find the Uber app.

"We're getting an Uber back." 

Good. Yes.

You were glad.

You would probably feel just as sick in a car, but the hassle of escalators, tunnels, stairs, more tunnels, more stairs, the hot air but the cold winds, and just, other people... even just thinking of the whole process, of public transport, made black and white spots creep up behind your eyes.

Mary seemed glad too, told you to get some actual rest, to take it easy and to feel better soon as Joe helped you onto your feet and guided you out of the building.

You had to lean into him heavily, nausea gripping you by the throat as you walked down to where Joe said you'd be picked up in a minute.

Focussing strongly on putting one foot in front of the other and not moving your head around too much, your mind echoed left, right, left, right, left, right. You felt Joe's grip strengthen around your waist as the world kept pulling you to the side.

"Jesus, do we need to go to A&E?"

This wasn't the time for jokes. You were busy trying to generally survive. The lack of balance, the world spinning and tilting, was disorienting and didn't leave room for humour.

"Have someone look you over?"

Joe wasn't joking, though.

"No," you swallowed. A mistake. "I just need to lie down and be still."

Joe helped you slide into the car, then used his fingers on your jaw to tip your head back against the headrest. Held a palm over your forehead a second, making sure it stayed in place before he carefully got you into your seatbelt and shut the door as softly as he could.

Sitting still like this, it was okay. Head back, sat up right, no weird smells.

This was fine.

You told the driver not to worry. Lied and promised him you didn't feel sick, just dizzy, and prayed you wouldn't actually throw up.

Joe rounded to the other side and slid down the seat to be right beside you. Sat in the middle seat, and after doing up his own seatbelt, attention was back with you.

An arm pushed through behind your neck, curled around your shoulder as you got pulled in.

Resting your head on Joe's shoulder wasn't any better than having it upright and tipped back, but Joe used a large palm that covered most of your scalp and then softly scratched fingers into your hair.

That was better.

You closed your eyes when the car pulled onto the road.

Having the actual world move fucked you up way more than you thought it might do.

The light that moved as you drove still filtered through enough, so you turned your head and hid your face against Joe's arm. Found darkness and peace there, and took measured breaths. Tried to ignore how your brain felt like a carousel. Could still taste the coffee you had about an hour earlier.

"Just crossed the river," Joe softly spoke near your ear.

He was taking you home.

"Five more minutes."

When you arrived, Joe wouldn't let you get out of the car by yourself. Said, "Hang on, wait here," and rushed out to jog around where he opened your door. Then he turned, and crouched down. Got down on one knee, and held out his arms behind him to guide.

"Joe, I can walk,"

You'd never ask to be carried.

"This feels safer. Come on."

But Joe insisted, and so you slid from the backseat right onto Joe's back. Slung arms around his neck and rested your head on his shoulder. Closed your eyes again, which didn't really help the nausea, but it felt nice to pretend you weren't really there.

Joe walked with bent legs, never fully straightening his knees, and you got the smoothest piggyback ride you'd ever had, right into your flat.

Right into your bedroom, where...

"Oh, fuck,"

You looked up, peeked over Joe's shoulder and, you remembered as you saw it.

You'd stripped your bed that morning, threw all sheets and covers into the wash and had planned to make the bed later, when you'd get back after work. Would use the other set that you didn't like the feel of as much, but which looked nicer.

"Okay, sofa." Joe turned on his heel, spun too quick, and made you groan with discomfort.

"Sorry, sorry," Joe stilled completely. Waited a couple seconds. Said sorry again and then walked you over into your living room where he carefully lowered himself and let you slide onto your sofa.

"How are we doing?" Joe checked in, went to close the curtains to get the place as dark as it possibly could in the middle of the day.

"Just need to sleep it off, I think," you said, trying to control your breathing as you bent over slowly to take off your shoes.

Your hands got moved aside by Joe, who moved to sit down in front of you on his knees.

"Sit back,"

And so you did. Inhaled deeply. Exhaled slowly. Accepted that the room was just going to be spinning for a while, nothing you could do to make it stop.

Joe took off your shoes and gave both socked feet a rub before coaxing you to lay back.

Throw pillows got moved into place, a blanket got draped over you, and Joe felt something pang inside of his chest at the sight of you laying flat on your back like this.

You were a side sleeper.

Would always curl up into a ball, would pull your knees up all high that would get Joe in the back some nights. Most nights. Joe always had to turn around and move one of your legs to hook over his hip to omit the uncomfortable press of boney knees into his spine.

Joe had never seen you try to fall asleep on your back before.

"Need anything else?" Joe whispered, still hovering over you, now toeing off his own shoes.

Not like you were going to ask, were you?

If Joe wanted to take care, he'd have to ask you for what you needed.

You hummed, said, "Nothing," slung an arm over your eyes and then followed up with, "Quiet.".

All right.

Joe could be quiet.

It didn't take you long to fall asleep at all, thank fuck.

For a second, Joe thought of going back home. Leaving you to get some rest, ensure your place would actually be quiet. But then he thought of your bed, and decided, might as well make it.

Joe found a set of sheets, but knew it was the one you found a little scratchy. Then he found your washing, transferred it all into the dryer as silently as he could and then thought, yea might as well, when he saw you'd left the bathroom messy.

Joe tidied up.

Decided halfway through he could also cook later. Take on dinner.

What else would he appreciate someone doing if he couldn't move without holding onto a wall?

Lots of things.

He was going to do them all.

Joe moved around with intention, shuffled on his socks, did everything as quietly as he could. Still closed cupboards too loudly, and made himself wince several times. He would freeze and would listen if he could hear you stir, if he'd disturbed you.

Not a peep from you. Not once.

Good.

Joe found the fridge empty, then grabbed your reusable shopping bag and your keys. Would only be a minute.

Downstairs, he checked your mail, opened your little metal post box and found a slip for a delivery that you'd missed, for a parcel that needed picking up. Decided to do that too, because, why not.

When Joe got back and carefully went to check if you were asleep still, he saw that you'd curled up with both your knees pressed into the back of the sofa. Couldn't help but smile to himself.

Nearly three hours later, you jolted awake. Took a look around the room, frowning, squinty eyes, and tried to figure out what woke you up. Why you were on the sofa again. What day it was.

You could hear the oven close in the kitchen, and let your head drop back down onto the soft pillows from the sofa.

You remembered.

And you felt... better. Sort of... just fine. You noticed gravity was pulling at you just right again. Huge difference compared to before, when it got you from all different sorts of angles.

Shaking your head side to side, everything felt solid. Steady. And you were really fucking hungry.

"Joe?" you called, and had to cough right after.

"You're up!" Joe stepped into view, drying his hands on a tea towel and he... Joe looked windswept. Untamed. Disheveled and tousled, face all flushed. All smiley and excited looking.

"How are you feeling?"

The opposite of how Joe looked, but, fine none the less.

"Better," you smiled through squinty eyes.

"Yea? No longer dizzy?"

"I don't think so," you shook your head once more, to check. Felt fine.

"Feel sick?"

"No... I'm hungry."

"Yea?"

"Yea." you looked around, still a little dazed and, what was that smell?

"Good, dinner's in the oven." Joe made his way over, and took a moment to grin at you. Leant down and just grinned at you. You didn't know what was so funny, but Joe made you laugh anyway.

You still felt a little shaky when Joe kissed you. Small pecks. Then a long one. Another grin, followed by a suspicious frown from you, and then, more kisses.

"What?" you asked when Joe wouldn't stop smiling.

"Nothing. Just glad that you're okay. How's your wrist?"

You rotated it. Gave it a little shake.

"Bit sore, but not bad, thanks. And thank you for coming to get me from work, I really couldn't have– I don't know what happened, do people get their balance affected from lack of sleep, do you know?"

"Yea, I googled, and apparently, you can. So that could be it, but it also could be a million other things." Joe shrugged.

Hmm. All right. Well, at least you felt better now. Nausea gone. Vision no longer swimming.

"Want to take a bath?" Joe suggested, and you groaned at the suggestion.

"Yes,"

"Okay, be careful, the water was practically boiling when I filled it fifteen minutes ago,"

You gasped softly, immediately pouted.

"You... you already filled the tub?"

Joe's eyes twinkled.

"Babe, I did so much," he exclaimed all proud, and started going down the list.

Joe had done a massive food shop, picked up a parcel from the post office, cleared out the dishwasher, tidied the bathroom, folded the laundry and put it all of it away, made dinner, made the bed–

Joe had to stop when he saw your eyes blinking rapidly, eyelashes wet. You seemed overwhelmed, a bit.

"Are you..."

A sob wrecked from your throat and you immediately laughed, because you were well aware you were being silly.

"You're crying?" Joe asked, smiling, already pulling you in so you could hide your face into his chest.

"You didn't have to–"

"Stop, I know I don't have to. I wanted to. Believe it or not, sometimes people enjoy doing things for you."

People usually loved it when you did things for them, but, you loved doing things for other people, so you understood.

"You made the bed?"

You knew Joe fucking hated making the bed.

"Yea, used the nice sheets,"

"I put the others in the wash this morning–"

"No," Joe corrected. "I put those in the dryer and used those," Joe pulled back, tilted his head down enough to catch your expression. "The other ones are– they don't feel great, right?"

Joe saw your face scrunch up again and quickly tucked you back under his chin.

"Maybe just get rid of those all together,"

"They were an expensive–"

"I'll get rid of them." Joe said, knowing you probably never would yourself.

Unbelievable.

You didn't deserve Joe.

Joe would disagree and fight you on that, so you didn't say that shit out loud.

Joe held you for a bit longer, his affection pouring over you until it was dripping down the sofa and leaving puddles on the floor.

"Bath's getting cold," Joe eventually murmured into your hair.

"Thank you," you managed to croak out as you accepted the kisses Joe pressed to your forehead before he helped you up from the sofa.

He held wary arms out, ready to catch you if it turned out that standing up was still a task too tricky, but you seemed steady enough. Could walk towards the door without going sideways.

"You know what?" he said, hand on the small of your back, guiding you across the room.

"Get in the bath, I'll join you in a sec,"

You caught his little smirk as he looked at you over his shoulder, stepping closer towards the kitchen.

"With dinner." Joe finished, and, fuck off. That sounded like the best fucking idea you'd ever heard.

"Hey," you said, making Joe stop, and for some reason, you caught a flicker of worry in his eyes before they softened as you smiled.

"Thank you," you said again, this time more earnest than you'd done before.

Joe needed to know you were grateful.

"Anything," Joe started, squeezed his eyes shut tightly to bring his point across properly.

"Anything for you."

the end

---

The Taglisted

@adoreyouusugar, @alana4610, @ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @barfightzanddiscolightz, @bettyfrommars, @cancankiki, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @dylanmunson, @eddies-puppet, @electricmunson, @emma77645, @emmamooney, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @frootvelvet, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @harringtonfan4, @haylaansmi, @jasminearondottir, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @kellyxo1, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @miserybeans, @nadixq, @notverywise, @paola-carter, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @roosterisdaddy36, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @thebellenouvelle, @thewondernanazombie, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

[jess-the-vampire]

IMPORTANT!!!!

so i didn't wanna make this post, I wanted to have this situation handled in private and move on, but it's gotten to a point where i don't feel like i have any choice but to put it out there into the public.

Because I don't think I'm going to get any results otherwise despite my attempts.

So I got robbed a few months ago, guy stole my bags with all my valuables in them, it really sucked and I'm still waiting for any updates on this situation.

In the meantime I had to attempt to replace my items that were stolen, so one of the items I did so was a keychain I was pretty attached to that happened to be on one of the stolen bags.

It was a preorder and it was hard to be sure they were still available given the artist did one last batch awhile ago.

The website I ordered from :

So I emailed the artist to make sure they were still in stock, even offered to pay extra for it to be manufactured if they weren't, i was told they were and it'd be sent out to me extremely soon. The artist was sympathetic to what happened to me.

So I wait a few weeks, up to a month, and it never came.

I emailed the artist again, telling them the package I paid for never arrived, they apologized and promised to send a replacement after I clarified my address just to make sure.

This package also never came.

The artist completely stopped responding to my emails after that.

I had told them ill update them if the packages arrived late, because the mail service can be slow, but they never did and despite telling them monthly nothing has arrived they didn't say a word to me or try to help.

This started back in JUNE-JULY, its been about 6 months since.

I even attempted again to order a package of three, in October, still hasn't arrived.

You might be asking if I have a tracking number for my packages, I don't, I never got a single one.

I even emailed the artist asking for some, no response.

I tried dming the artist and got no response, I genuinely don't know if they are just not checking their dms or just ignoring me in particular because they are active online to a degree.

I tried a PayPal report at one point and got some of my money back, but only for the first package. Because the other was on my card.

So that's more then 50 $ I haven't yet gotten my money's worth of nor got refunded to me.

I dont want to assume the worst of the artist, I just don't understand what's going on and I'm just frustrated, because the situation I went through was bad enough without this on top of it.

My friends were concerned about me being scammed, one package being missing can be waved off, three packages can not.

Best case scenario, this is all explained just to have been some mismanagement on the artist's part.

I want to hope that's the case, but right now I haven't gotten a single package, all my money back, or a single response in months.

At this point I don't even have evidence the packages were sent out at all without a tracking number.

I don't want harassment aimed towards the artist, I'm just hoping talking about what happened publicly either moves something forward on their part to getting what i paid for or preventing other potential customers from ending up enduring the same situation .

Because as of now, this is pretty upsetting and frustrating.

[captainx-camino]

I got Buggy done yesterday just in time for my local Japanese Festival event today so, here are some highlights:

Starting off small, here's the wig (and scarf, which I didn't make) chilling on my wig head waiting for me to struggle to put it on.

90% of the work I did on this wig is going to be covered the entire time I'm wearing it, but did I let that stop me from hand laying an entire glued hairline? Lmao of course not! That would have been easy, and we don't do easy in this house!

As stated above, I didn't make the cap I just got one online simply because I was having shit luck finding the striped fabrics I would have needed and the idea of having to sew two different stripes together was giving me hives.

Ascot, vest, gloves and glove cuffs~ In other words, 90% of the work of this costume and his accessory friends.

The Ascot was stitched together by my lovely partner via the piss poor instructions I was able to give them on how I wanted it made. Seriously, give them a round of applause for somehow decoding my incoherent babbling. This is beautiful. @kadaverc0splay did a fantastic job.

The gloves are just purchased leather fencing gloves of which I fold under the length and hide it under the cuffs I made, which are simply craft foam, paint, and buckles I had to order online with almost not enough time to get them because, for some reason, craft stores no longer find it necessary to carry and assortment of styles and sizes of buckles. *Internal screaming*

*sharp inhale* Ok. The vest. *Reconsiders every life choice he's ever made* This thing is a BEAST. It was a pain to make, it's a pain to wear, the leather belting that secures the garment closed is held on by glue, prayers, and human sacrifice via my own blood, sweat, and tears. It took me more hours than I care to even think about, let alone admit, to do all the top stitching on this godforsaken goblin of a clown man and that's not even half of the ironic tragedy that gathering the supplies for this disaster was.

Not only did I have to replace more than one of the FIVE DIFFERENT TYPES OF RIBBON AND TRIM THIS BASTARD HAS ON HIS VEST but nowhere had everything I needed in enough yards to complete anything I needed done, so I had to make several trips and buy several different things to finish any part of it. INCLUDING THE BUCKLES, which arrived here Thursday...for an event today. So, that was fun.

Oh, and also, the white ribbon is wired, but the wire refused to be pulled out, so it's just in there now I guess. Lucky me!

(the belts aren't entirely accurate, but I'll save adding the additional headache that will cause for the con I'll be wearing this to next spring. I'm tired.)

Buggy's many belts of despair and loathing...

I swear the cosplay gods are never kind to me, but tricking me into thinking this was going to go well because I was able to get some good sized chunks of real, genuine leather for dirt cheap? Not cool, guys!

The leather was chocolate brown and not black, as I had previously believed it to be upon purchase. So, it had to be painted with latex paint. (Thank you again, pretty boy, I seriously couldn't have done it without you. Seriously.) Actually , another round of applause for all the belts being painted by my partner, because they also painted the foam under belt for me. Because he was smart and got his costume done several days ago.

Not me. I'm not that bright. No. But alas, we trudge forward.

And by trudge...

These boots weren't made for walking, these boots were made for traversing through the dusty floor of the fun house you've built around yourself to forget how salty your rat ex has left you - AND IT SHOWS!

Ignore my poorly made foam buckles. I'm not going to repeat myself about that bs, lest I may sink back into a depressive state equaled only by my ability to pass it off as a joke. These crumpled, sad black asskickers were originally brown! And suede. Don't ask me how I got them to look like old, worn leather. I simply fell into a dissociative state and awoke with black boots and no memory of where I'd been. The belts are foam, and the weird pattern on his tongue is simply a quilting square from Joanne fabrics that I glued on and then mod podged over.

As stated above, the buckles are foam and painted. They look awful, but if anyone is close enough to my feet to say something about it, my foot is going to need to detach to be removed from betwixt their teeth.

The entire costume was also weathered by @kadaverc0splay (including the pants, which are not pictured here because I didn't really do anything to them) while I cried over the wig that you won't see most of so you know what, just send all your praise to them I'm not even here all I did was top stitch and cry.

All in all, and in true Buggy fashion, the build of this costume was entirely, and regrettably, failing upward. Because, hot damn, did it come together. 🔥

See you at Aki Matsuri.

I never want to do this again~!

[saynomorefic]

Guys, it's the last day 😭😭 I can't cope

For Simon's Month Day 31: Photos

When Wille started his photography class all those ago, Simon had been more than wary. Wille began with nature photography, but he needed someone to practice on for the portraits unit. Being the good boyfriend that he was, Simon had swallowed his feelings and volunteered. That's how it started, anyway.

Thank you forever @youngroyals-events we are all indebted to you 💜💜💜

Read on ao3 or below the cut <33 (G / 1K)

Simon had never loved getting his picture taken. He had trouble smiling in that genuine way Linda always wanted. She’d always make Sara tickle him, so he’d grin ‘for real, Simon, where your eyes smile too.’ As for childhood photos, there weren’t many to speak of. They were kids before smartphones made their way to the Eriksson household, and so most of their old photos were ones his aunts took of the whole family on Christmas.  

Simon hated school pictures even more, where they’d have to line up in order of height and whatever other classifications the photographer demanded. He itched to make sure his hair looked right, or there wasn’t something on his face, or his uniform wasn't so obviously wrinkled. On a good day, the photo would just make him look pissed off, which he didn’t mind much in the end. 

Then, of course, there was the video. His pixelated face made its way around Sweden. Simon was at the end of obtrusive lenses and flashes for many months after, subjected to seeing his face online and in random supermarket checkouts. It felt wrong that his face - frowning, laughing, in the midst of pleasure, full of anger and staring directly at the camera - was so ubiquitous that it didn’t feel like his anymore. It was something that other people could somehow capture and sell, often without his knowledge, always without his consent.

So when Wille started his photography class all those years ago, he’d been more than wary. Wille started with nature photography, but for the portraits unit he needed someone to practice on. Being the good boyfriend that he was, Simon had swallowed his feelings and volunteered. In the beginning they experimented with lighting and color, so Simon’s face was not always visible. Gradually, he’d gotten more used to the lens, and realized just how quickly Wille’s skills improved with the practice. It took time for him to not squirm under the attention, to not feel he was being distilled again. It made it easier that he wasn’t Wille’s only subject; they’d set up a little studio in the spare room of their first apartment, and guests were often wrangled into impromptu photoshoots. Wille had joked he wanted to be “one of those old men with the long-lens cameras, who take photos of their wives and kids on every holiday and picturesque view.�� At the time, neither of them knew that it would become so true. Eventually Simon dropped his protests and just gave in, understanding that it did something for the both of them they thoroughly needed. He even learned to take pleasure in the silence of it, waiting for Wille’s subtle direction and learning how to find the light. 

Once his therapist had asked him if it was a way of them reclaiming what had happened. The thought hadn’t occurred to Simon so viscerally, but maybe there was a small part of him that felt like it was healing with each shutter. He got to the point where he enjoyed looking through photos of himself and of them, on vacation, at Christmas and New Years and friends’ parties. Any picture I take of you is a picture of us, Wille would remind him. Those pictures of his pixelated face, grainy expressions on cheaply printed paper, and even his uncomfortable smile next to Sara were replaced with genuine smiles and candid shots, close ups and frames so wide you could barely see his figure. It helped that his partner had an eye for it, was seemingly born to pour himself into a creative outlet that he could chip away at forever, somewhat like Simon and his music. 

Some of the photos went into albums that stacked on their coffee table over the years. Others made it to Christmas cards sent halfway around the world. A few times, Wille held intimate gatherings at their house, inviting close friends to look through his work that often featured Simon. Wille saw no issue with Simon being, as he lovingly put it, his ultimate muse. Lastly, and most embarrassingly, Wille’s favorites ended up on the walls in the foyer, above the dresser in their bedroom, and over the fireplace. Not all were of Simon; he had to explain to Wille how disconcerting it was to have his guests stare at pictures of him only when they were sitting on their living room couch. 

Then there were the couples’ photos, which Simon felt were slightly more appropriate to display in their common areas. Simon picked his favorite, the one from their honeymoon in Azores, to hang in the nursery, which were soon joined with Claudia’s baby pictures, then toddler pictures, then pictures of all of the cousins. Wille did not miss a milestone, and Claudia grew up with not a single holiday, birthday, or life event going undocumented. The albums on the coffee table stacked, Wille gained a new muse, and the photos eventually spilled into a closet or two. Eventually Wille had two editors of his photos, so that when the albums eventually came out and the prints were made there wasn’t a great uproar. 

Simon loved all of those photos; he loved the feeling he got when he’d turn his way through the pages. It chronicled all they’d been through and surpassed, all the moments little and big they bore witness to. Very rarely, Wille let Simon turn the camera around on him. He had his own fair share of photography trauma, all photos of him seemingly belonging to the Swedish public. They had that in common. It was perhaps his own reclamation, his way of letting someone else be the focus, but when Simon pointed out the obvious hypocrisy he had no choice but to let him. While Wille was always composing the right angles, capturing each beautiful place they went, or staging Simon in their studio just right, Simon preferred following Wille around the house, taking innocuous pictures of an uncomposed and often unaware Wille. There were pictures of him taking Claudia to school, or doing the dishes, or shaving in the morning. Somehow they both learned to capture the life they'd gifted to each other: joined parts that they had both yearned for, just for them to share. 

[iremadethisisanarchive]

please help, this is urgent - i need to get away from my father, but i have no money. ive become jobless recently, had an interview today, but cant officially be hired until i have my state ID, which i ordered a replacement online today thanks to the help of a tumblr mutual sending me $25 and takes 7-10 days to arrive (at a different address, not my dad's address). he's abusive, he's manipulative and every other negative trait under the sun, he has been so since i was a teenager. there's no reasoning with him, there's no arguing with him, there's no peace with him unless it goes his way. im mentally exhausted being around him, i wouldnt have been with him to begin with if i had another choice. but even if i wanted to stay with him, i couldn't, because he has kicked me out yet again and i quite literally have nowhere to stay, he's also threatening 'legal action' on me, whether or not thats a scare tactic or genuine idk at this point. anyway, i do not have a car or a drivers license currently either. my best option would be a nearby motel room which i can't currently afford on my own and this is where i need help. please please, if you can, id appreciate any don8tions towards this, as well as money for phone bill and food and uber rides as i wait for my replacement ID card in the mail to officially be hired and start the training for the new job.

my pajdpal

no set goal, anything helps, but totaling over $500 or more would be amazing. if you cant help i understand, i know everyone is going through something, but at the very least a reblog to spread this around to someone who could potentially aid me would be great !! my partner is going to help me get the rest of my stuff from his house, but after that, im on my own. (i cant stay at my partners house because of strict culture/beliefs)

screenshots of account balances, the rmv payment + texts between me & my dad under the cut (as an example of how he is the majority of the time like i cant make this up):

(the blacked out picture is a picture of my jury duty status, pending disqualification that i requested to show my dad that i wasnt simply ignoring it)

it didnt end there, but at this rate the whole post would be text messages between him & i. this doesnt include all of the things he said over the phone. i mean im no angel here either but ive tried to be nice. ive tried. ive tried to end the convo a billion times on a better note, he kept going, or blew up my phone with calls to fight further. i feel like i have no escape from him and i desperately need one.

[pandagalisawesome]

Question (rhetorical) -

Why is our generation (Z), so strongly opposed to capitalism and the idea that billionaires exist but continue to flippantly participate in unnecessary consumerism from places like Amazon unabashedly?

I’m not saying if there’s something you want and need and for some reason nowhere online or in person can you get that thing but it’s available on Amazon. Not that you should just live without but the amount of friends I’ve been around (younger friends, I’m in my mid twenties) or creators I see are always linking Amazon products or it’s always “I got this on Amazon”.

I think that’s kinda fucked up that it seems everyone has just accepted that they’re all gunna just continue using Amazon even though it’s well documented, unsurprisingly, that it is a garbage company that are consistently either close to or are breaking human rights?

And I’m specifically talking about random frivolous things that they very likely could’ve found somewhere less fucked or thrifted.

Kinda chaps my ass with a Queer community so strongly in the socialist/ communist eat the rich type thing that the Convenience of Amazon well out weights like not supporting a terrible business.

Disclaimer - I have bought things on Amazon. Recently but it is never my first choice and if I don’t need that thing or it wouldn’t genuinely improve my quality of life then either I don’t need that specific one or I don’t need it at all and my bank account with thank me. Example.

The headband on my beats headphones I’ve had since like 2019 cracked and broke. Instead of buying a new pair the only place I could get a replacement was Amazon. So I ordered a new head band so I could continue using my still operating and working headphones.

[continuations]

Israel/Gaza

I have not personally commented in public on the Israel/Gaza conflict until now (USV signed on to a statement). The suffering has been heartbreaking and the conflict is far from over. Beyond the carnage on the ground, the dialog online and in the street has been dominated by shouting. That makes it hard to want to speak up individually.

My own hesitation was driven by unacknowledged emotions: Guilt that I had not spoken out about the suffering of ordinary Palestinians in the past, despite having visited the West Bank. Fear that support for one side or the other would be construed as agreeing with all its past and current policies. And finally, shame that my thoughts on the matter appeared to me as muddled, inconsistent and possibly deeply wrong. I am grateful to everyone who engaged with me in personal conversations and critiqued some of what I was writing to wrestle down my thoughts over the last few weeks, especially my Jewish and Muslim friends, for whom this required additional emotional labor in an already difficult time.

Why speak out at all? Because the position I have arrived at represents a path that will be unpopular with some on both sides of this conflict. If people with views like mine don’t speak, then the dialog will be dominated by those with extremely one-sided views contributing to further polarization. So this is my attempt to help grow the space for discussion. If you don’t care about my opinion on this conflict, you don’t have to read it.

The following represents my current thinking on a possible path forward. As always that means it is subject to change despite being intentionally strongly worded.

Hamas is a terrorist organization. I am basing this assessment not only on the most recent attack against Israel but also on its history of violent suppression of Palestinian opposition. Hamas must be dismantled.

Israel’s current military operation has already resulted in excessive civilian casualties and must be replaced with a strategy that minimizes further Palestinian civilian casualties, even if that entails increased risk to Israeli troops (there is at least one proposal for how to do this being floated now). If there were a ceasefire-based approach to dismantling Hamas that would be even better and we should all figure out how that might work.

Immediate massive humanitarian relief is needed in southern Gaza. This must be explicitly temporary. The permanent displacement of Palestinians is not acceptable.

Israel must commit to clear territorial lines for both Gaza and the Westbank and stop its expansionist approach to the latter. This will require relocating some settlements to establish sensible borders. Governments need clear borders to operate with credibility, which applies also to any Palestinian government (and yes I would love to see humanity eventually transcend the concept of borders but that will take a lot of time).

A Marshall Plan-level commitment to a full reconstruction of Gaza must be made now. All nations should be called upon to join this effort. Reconstruction and constitution of a government should be supervised by a coalition that must include moderate Islamic countries. If none can be convinced to join such an effort, that would be good to know now for anyone genuinely wanting to achieve durable peace in the region.

I believe that an approach along these lines could end the current conflict and create the preconditions for lasting peace. Importantly it does not preclude democratically elected governments from eventually choosing to merge into a single state.

All of this may sound overly ambitious and unachievable. It certainly will be if we don’t try and instead choose more muddling through. It will require strong leadership and moral clarity here in the US. That is a tall order on which we have a long way to go. But here are two important starting points.

We must not tolerate antisemitism. As a German from Nürnberg I know all too well the dark places to which antisemitism has led time and time again. The threat of extinction for Jews is not hypothetical but historical. And it breaks my heart that my Jewish friends are removing mezuzahs from their doors. There is one important confusion we should get past if we genuinely want to make progress in the region. Israel is a democracy and deserves to be treated as such. Criticizing Israeli government policies isn’t antisemitic, just like criticizing the Biden administration isn’t anti-Christian, or criticizing the Modi government isn’t anti-Hindu. And yes, I believe that many of Israel’s historic policies towards Gaza and the Westbank were both cruel and ineffective. Some will argue that Israel is an ethnocracy and/or a colonizer. One can discuss potential implications of this for policy. But if what people really mean is that Israel should cease to exist then they should come out and say that and own it. I strongly disagree.

We must not tolerate islamophobia. We also have to protect citizens who want to practice Islam. We must not treat them as potential terrorists or as terrorist supporters on the basis of their religion. How can we ask people to call out Hamas as a terrorist organization when we readily accept mass casualties among Muslims (not just in the region but also in other places, such as the Iraq war) while also not pushing back on people depicting Islam as an inherently hateful religion? And for those loudly claiming the second amendment, how about also supporting the first, including for Muslims? I have heard from several Muslim friends that they frequently feel treated as subhuman. And that too breaks my heart.

This post will likely upset some people on both sides of the conflict. There is nothing of substance that can be said that will make everyone happy. I am sure I am wrong about some things and there may be better approaches. If you have read something that you found particularly insightful, please point me to it. I am always open to learning and plan to engage with anyone who wants to have a good faith conversation aimed at achieving peace in the region.

[stfulia]

Hi chat

Hi, wtf tho?.

I met this friend (P) last year and i quickly started to trust him, which is weird cause of my trust issues. The reason i felt so confy was because he did NOT know the people i was talking about. (pd: i dont talk shit about them, just overthink about the way i feel about them). So basically the first thing i talked about when i started being friends with him was that friends becoming friends with my friends lowkey made me feel bad, cause many times before, had happened to me that they become BETTER friends between each other and i was left out. He said he agreed and that he feels the same. I dont really care about them just being friends, i just dont want them to "replace" me or make me feel left out by my OWN friends. (ig thats understandable)

So i have this other online friend (OF-online friend cause why not) who i know for like 4 years now. I appreciate a lot my online friends cause ive always trusted them in order to talk about feelings, i guess because i dont feel it THAT much real as it would feel if i vented irl. I like to gatekeep my onine friends because i have some bad trust issues thinking they could tell whatever im talking about to someone else. I know im a bit paranoid but i literally cant help it, i need that kind of TRUST in order to feel confortable around you.

Then, few months ago, i dont really know how, but OF sent a friend request on instagram AND bereal to P, cause when i really love my friends, i talk about them with others and they knew each other because of that. Firstly i asked P to not accept it, cause he KNEW that annoyed me a bit. Well, he did, and also said "yeah but i dont talk with her" and i was like "okay, youre right". Then they started to react to each others bereals and they NEVER react to mine, which made me feel a bit weird ngl. But then ONE DAY i just know they started talking by photos via instagram. And they talked about their personal stuff, THINGS THAT THEY DONT TALK WITH ME, LIKE???.

Okay, so when they started talking i acted like i didnt care, cause i decided to trust them and i liked them to get along very well. But one day, OF asked me if P was flirting with her, which was like 💀💀💀. Ofc i asked him (p) and he said he was just joking and that she wasnt even his type, which i actually do believe. But since OF saw that i was lowkey jealous of them being that """flirty""" she jokes about having a crush on him and dating him or sexual stuff that i dont even want to talk about. Ofc i took everything as a joke, cause it was JUST a joke, right?.

Time passed and when i met with P irl, cause we often do, he is constantly taking pictures about everything to reply to OF. And i admit that it makes me jealous, he is very friendly with me, he is VERY affectionate* and i lowkey just wanna fell special ig. I guess im just overreacting but i cant help but feeling this way. So, the thing is, lately, he has been acting distant with me. Yes ofc he has more things to do than me, but yk, i always start the conversation, and it feels like whenever i text him, he is just distracted, i doesnt feel like him anymore. YES, THERES THE CHANCE HES BEEN FEELING BAD FOR ANY REASON BUT IF HE DOESNT EVEN TELL ME, HOW CAN I KNOW???.

*P is just like a best friend to me. I am very very closed to people, i struggle receiving any type of affection, but with him, for some reason, i like to receive hugs, very long hugs. A long hug while watching a movie, if you get me.

So this afternoon, P texted me first (i was even excited) and asked me to play roblox this night. And i was genuinely HAPPY cause i just wanted to spend time with him. Then OF texts me saying that we were gonna play roblox but with her (OF) and another loved online friend of mine(OF2). So what i could only think about was that he has been dry to me while he was planning playing roblox with them💀. YES, I KNOW they ALL invited me, but the starting point was NOT TALKING TO MY ONLINE FRIENDS, and i have tolerated TOO MUCH with OF, i cant tolerate it nomore with OF2. SO, i told P that i dont really feel like it because i dont like them being friends with each other. AND THEN P TOLD OF THAT HE COULDNT PLAY CAUSE OF ME. AND THAT MADE ME SO MAD. CAUSE WHY WOULD YOU EVEN TELL HER THAT?? IT WASNT NECESSARY. I know its the truth, but sometimes, truth just needs to sit in silence between those who know it.

AND, what did you do? Call me inmature, call me jealous, call me toxic, call me avoidant, IDC. I just need to push away them, push away EVERYONE, so i lowkey ghosted them. I TOLD THEM THAT I NEEDED SPACE AND TIME TO PROCESS WHATEVER IM FEELING AND I MADE MYSELF CLEAR THAT THEY CAN BE FRIENDS WITH EACH OTHER IF THEY WANT TO, JUST KNOW I WONT LIKE IT. But i feel like they didnt get it cause their response is rude and mean. I mean, i dont expect them to talk to me like a princess, but who is annoyed here is I, me, myself, not you wtf?.

SO YEAH, THATS PRETTY MUCH WHAT HAPPENED AND WHAT I THINK OF. I just wanted to vent cause now i lowkey cant (my closest friends are them and now i cant tell anyone my feelings), and if you have something to say ill ofc be super happy to read it.

SORRY IF THERE WAS A MISTAKE OR SMTH, ENGLISH IS NOT MY FRIST LANGUAGE, and sorry for the HUGE text.

Thanks chat.

[hedonist-heathen]

Here's hoping there is kindness still out there. I will be putting all information in this post and will not be answering any side questions about it. I'm asking for help and sharing as much as you need to know, or better yet as much as I'm willing to share. Some details are painful, personal, or frankly not your business. You either have a kind heart and can and will help or you won't. Do not message me with more questions on this.

This time last year my looser ex Jason Schweinsburg could not handle the breakup and left my son and I in Vegas without a dollar to my name, then back in San Antonio he took everything I had in this world...to include, my phone which I have charges on him for things he's done with my phone, my drivers license, my clothes, basic necessities, and since I work from home, all my income halted because my equipment and materials were taken as well. Oh, and get this he carried my bag of toys around with him every where he went to for weeks, until he ran off like a little bitch, leaving it behind, when his plug put a gun in his mouth. I'm talking several double dildos, strap on, clit toys. What does a man need with those type of toys? What a fucking loser. Moving on. I spend a year busting my ass starting from nothing and replaced everything from my toothbrush, to my furniture. Which was not easy because he would get online and catfish my businesses by setting up fake appointments and orders, doing foul shit to me online, using my accounts, stole my money, and did all basic loser things. This is all in police reports and can be proved. Anyway, difficult year, but did it on my own. Built my life and was doing well. I stopped dating men after him. It's never worked out well for me when dealing with men anyway. They set themselves up for failure then punish me. I moved out into a tiny home on a 100 acre ranch away from men, away from people and the things they do because jealousy is ugly. Hating me will not make you pretty, or me ugly. Using leverage you think you have on me will not make me date you or fuck you. Simplified in two sentences. They've not been kind with my sin only being pretty, and a genuine person and people hate that. I learned after moving out there I'd been mislead on many different levels about my tiny home and the entire situation. Almost everyday did I have to remind my landlord that I moved out to the counrty to get away from the exact things he began to do to me. He wanted me to move into the main house and become his girlfriend. I reminded him that I made it very very clear that I was not interested in that in any way. He did not slow down with the things he would say and do daily. One day, after spending a night away from the ranch, two hours after returning home my front door was kicked in and I was attacked by a grown man and a woman 3 times my size, while he watched from his porch. My nose is broke, my finger is broke and I have trauma to my chest from the male holding me down with his knee. They stole my money and a few other things. It got dark right after the incident and I was torchered all night. They would surround the tiny house and talk about ways to kill me. The next day when I tried to leave I was met with a locked 8 foot fence and gate. Since I had to climb this fence and walk 5 miles just to get to town, I was unable to take any of my belongings with me. I'm in need of everything you could possibly think of. I'm asking for help. If you have anything you could donate I'll take it. If you put the total it cost you to ship it to me I'll cash app it to you upon arrival. I do a lot of my shopping online, so if you find it in your heart to send me money, things can be worked out for that if need be. So you don't feel like you're giving me money. I'll earn it. This we can have a conversation about, but I will not discuss it until the money is on my cash app so dont even try. Again your gonna help or your not. I'm not going to let you waste my time to in the end do nothing to help.

My cash app is Misfitbitch77. After money is sent, you can then inbox me and will discuss how I earn what you gave.

Anything being shipped, I'll list my sizes and a few things off hand that I know and remember I need quickly. I'm 100 percent serious guys, I don't even have anything to change into. Can't brush my hair or teeth, and could sure use your help.

Dress and top size is 4-8/ medium mostly but can do some small and some large.

Pants and shorts are 6-9,/29 and I'm petite. Barely 5 foot.

Bra size 36D/36DD.

I only wear chucks, saddles, and heels. Size 7-8. High heels are welcomed.

I do not wear greens or browns. Earth tones do not match me well.

I need a Cricut machine and materials. If you know what I'm talking about then you know my needs.

I need a 3rd generation or up air pad for the design space for the Cricut.

All my expensive cleaning supplies and equipment must be replaced for my cleaning business. I need a steam mop, cordless light weight vacuum, cleaning brushes, shower scrubber, you think it, i need it.

I'm an extremely organized person so anything having to do with that im in need of.

All fishing gear, camping gear, and I did my nails at home so any of that.

Purses, bags, suitcases, belts, mirrors, lamps, all kitchen and dining, blankets, pillows, rugs.

Vape, fruity vape juice.

I will also take any gift cards to anywhere. It's a quick, simple way to help.

When you send me a pic of the package you are sending or gift card you are sending I will give you the address to send it to. I cannot put it on here because Jason Schweinsburg is a loser. And again my cash app is Misfitbitch77.

Please help show me kindness still exist and people still have compassion and empathy and will help a lady that has had everything taken by men who failed to take my choice from me.

[alyss01]

Studying for finals headcanons:

Corpse x GN!reader, Sykkuno x GN!reader, Toast x GN!reader

Word count: 1.5K

Requested: no

Synopsis: How Toast, Sykkuno and Corpse would be with a S/O studying for finals. Headcannons and fluff.

Warnings: none

A/n: Do I have more than enough requests? Yup! Should I probably work on those? Most likely. Basically wrote this during / after the most intense two to three weeks of studying I’ve experienced in at least a year. I needed some comfort so i provided myself with it, hope it can do the same for others even though most people have most likely already finished all their exams, tests, finals and all that already. Enjoy! (This was also mostly written at like 2AM the day of my last final, but it is proofread)

Masterlist

Corpse:

Let's be honest, he would have no idea what exactly it is you're studying

He knows some basics that are common sense and bits and pieces that he's collected while you were rambling about the topics to him

Generally though, he has no clue what's going on and certainly will not be able to help you do the actual studying

However if it helps for you to explain the topics to him instead of reading the books for a hundred times with seemingly no pay off, he'll gladly listen

Allows you to rant of about the intricate details as he fakes an understanding and nods his head along

Don't get him wrong, he loves to hear you talk and is genuinely interested in what you're saying, but you might as well be speaking a different language cause he cannot understand a singular word that passes your lips

If you're a night owl, that's great! He'll love to bring you midnight study snacks and bring a glass of water every so often

He definitely stays up with you and likes to just hang around the room where you study in the background and vibe to some music

Every so often he will walk up to you for head pats

The screen in front of you shone brightly, lighting up the room. The only thing telling you the time and date was your laptop. With the curtains permanently shut and having lost any sense of time you did possess over the past days, you wouldn't have a single clue how much time had passed otherwise.

Music comes through your headphones in attempt to keep you focussed on the matter at hand, a word document that is much longer than you would've liked containing all the summaries you had made over the past days.

The music however also deafened you from the sound of the door opening and closing, as Corpse stepped into your room with a white plastic bag containing some snacks and a cup of your favorite drink in his other hand.

As he set the objects on the desk beside you, you realized he had come in and pulled one side of your headset off your ear.

Corpse's arms wrap around you from behind, his chin resting on your head as you nuzzle yourself closer in his embrace. His eyes lazily trail over the text on the screen for a moment before they narrow and turn away.

Tilting your head back, you look at him from underneath, chuckling as you catch his confused look at the screen.

"when did you have this exam again?" The question escapes his lips almost with a hint of pity within.

Sykkuno:

Honestly I think it really depends on what you're studying if he will understand it or not

No matter what it is however, he is proud

When he has a chance in any conversation he'll casually bring you up and proudly explain what kind of complicated things you have been studying and how smart you are

He is so encouraging, no matter if he quite understand what it is you study or not

He probably would leave you interrupted while studying, but if you come out of your room to seek his attention out first he'll be so happy

If something bothers you or frustrates you about the material he's waiting with open arms to take your mind off it

If you're studying for long times he'll come to crave some affection so he'll either be glued to your side when you do finish or he will come and seek you out first

Will provide you with snacks, your favorite food, smoothies, coffee, tea, whatever you prefer while studying, he'll get it for you

Will want to spent time together once the stressful period is over, catching up to affection he may have missed during it

I think he'd definitely keep quite a careful watch over you in terms of rest

He will drag you off to bed at 2AM if you're still studying demanding you get some proper rest

"you know staying up this late is bad for your health, right?" The worry was evident in his voice as he leant against your desk as he stood beside you. His back was turned to the furniture and his eyes were glued to your tired face.

"it'll be worth it once summer vacation hits." You shoot Sykkuno a tired smile, making him turn his head to where your mug dutifully stood, as it had been for the past three days, half filled with your favorite study drink which had turned room temperature by now.

He raised his eyebrow in question, watching as you turn back to the screen that lights up your face with white light, the page's reflection in your eyes, "rest is important if you want to do well on the exam."

"so is knowledge and caffeine," though your words may be harsh, the tone with which they leave your lips easily tell him it was a joke, "besides, I'll just need to finish this last part."

His hand finds your hair, and you lean into his warm touch as you shut your eyes for a moment, taking in the moment. A small smile formed on his lips at the sight, his fingers threading through your hair.

"promise this is the last part?" He speaks up as you open your eyes once more, looking up at him as you give him a small smile.

The bags under your eyes paired with the exhausted look on your face had noy been as clear in the past days as they were currently. He admired you for your willpower to study these amounts, but you worried him sometimes with your behavior.

Your voice pulled him back to the small smile that played on your lips, "I promise."

Toast:

He's knowledgeable, not on all topics and subjects, but he's definitely knowledgeable

Start ranting to him about topics and he'll genuinely become interested and follow along, asking some questions here and there

If you ever need to write some sort of paper or essay, he'll gladly read it over for you for any mistakes or things to change

He won't admit it, but if you start explaining some of the things you're studying to him, he'll love it

Especially if it's something you're passionate about, he'd love to watch you explain stuff to him

The way your eyes shimmer, and how excited you look to talk to him about it all, he loves it

Forehead kisses while studying and will order food for you and bring drinks

Probably won't hang around too much in the room you're studying in to give you privacy and peace, but will come in and ruffle your hair before placing his lips on your head momentarily and wish you luck when he passes your door

In these moments often likes to sneak a peek at your papers or computer screen, just to see a glimpse of the topic you're working on

He doesn't mind if you stay up longer than him to study but will definitely drag you to bed for rest when he's decided you didn't give yourself enough rest

"I'm ordering take out, what do you want for dinner?" Toast is quick to poke his head around the corner of your door, phone in hand as he walks in and leans against the doorframe.

Pulling your headset off, you rotate your chair to the side, facing him as you question where he is planning to order.

He walks over to your desk to hand you his phone so you can scroll through the online menu, his hand quick to brush your hair back. Instead of pulling his hand away, he lets it stay in your hair, brushing through it a few times with his fingers.

While you were invested with the online menu, his eyes scan the screen, where you were working on the introduction to a paper.

He recognized the material, the day before you had trailed off on a small explanation that ended up much longer than intended when he asked what you were currently working on.

When you finish looking through the menu and having filled in your order, you catch his gaze glued to your screen.

Before he leaves your room he gives you some slight advice, offering to replace some words with others before wishing you good luck and leaving your room for the time being. At least until the food arrives.

[baroquebucky]

fundraisers

bucky finds love where he least expects it

word count: 1.9k

masterlist

a/n: hi bffs i am back w my usual fluff ,, i hope u all enjoy !! let me know what u all think ! a fundraiser? more like raising buckys heart rate ! (I’m funny please laugh)

“it’ll be fun! It’s for a fundraiser and my friend is counting on us” Sam spoke, “and plus when was the last time you went to an arcade?” He questioned and bucky rolled his eyes.

“I’m 106 i don’t go to arcades” bucky grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and looking to the side. Sam rolled his eyes, walking over and sitting down next to his friend.

“Cmon buck y/n will kill me if you don’t show up, she already promised who know how many people that we’d show up” sam frowned and bucky looked at him angrily.

“fine whatever” bucky agreed reluctantly, “but I’m leaving after the first hour” he added quickly and sam smiled at him, knowing he would end up staying the whole time.

“you’ll get along just fine” Sam smiled, “the easiest thing you can do in life is fall in love with y/n y/l/n” bucky rolled his eyes. Fat chance.

“When is it anyway” bucky asked, sam gave him a toothy grin before replying, “tonight at 6! See you there at 5!” He spoke quickly, rushing out of the super soldier’s apartment before he could suffer the consequences.

Bucky groaned, his hands flying to his face before he checked the time, he had three hours before he had to head out.

You were giddy, it was your first fundraiser for your new nonprofit, posters spread around the arcade in hopes of reaching your goal. You expected a larger crowd tonight, the buzz of Captain America and The Winter Soldier making a guest appearance made your heart race.

You smiled as you saw bucky walk in at 5:30, you checked yourself out in the mirror next to you before walking towards him with a smile.

“Mr. Barnes! hi I’m y/n” you grinned, holding out your hand. He shook it lightly before giving you a tight smile, looking around for Sam.

“uh, wheres sam? He said he would be here by now” he asked you let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head.

“he’ll probably get here at like 5:30, he’s always late” you smiled and bucky laughed a little, the sound making your smile widen.

“I’ll let you go change into your suit, the restrooms are right over there” you smiled and bucky nodded, heading towards the restrooms, bag in hand with his suit.

Before you knew it people were filing in, Sam running out just in the nick of time to stand next to bucky.

As everyone met and took pictures with the two avengers you made small talk with some business people, giving out information about your fundraiser and graciously accepting donations left and right. You skipped over to the giant whiteboard near the prizes, smiling widely throughout the night as you colored in the box closer to the goal. Bucky smiled at how excited you were, he admired how passionate you seemed about your project.

The night progressed and you finished making rounds with most of the visitors, many people taking interest in how to help and spreading the word online. You finally let yourself relax, heading over to Sam and bucky who had already changed back to regular clothes and were sitting by the restaurant area.

“how’d it go?” You smiled at sam, ordering a water quickly.

“it was good, lots of people” he spoke, “my cheeks hurt from smiling, can’t imagine how hard it was for this guy” he teased bucky, nudging him with his elbow. Bucky frowned at sam, sitting up a bit straighter.

“i smile all the time” bucky spoke gruffly, “I’m a happy guys I’ll have you know” he turned his attention to you, smiling for a second.

“i never said you weren’t happy” sam shot back and you smiled as the two friends bickered.

“You implied it!” Bucky frowned and you laughed.

“okay notes break it up” you sighed, smiling as you finished your bottle of water. “any one wanna get their ass handed to them in air hockey?”

Sams eyes widened and he shook his head quickly, you groaned. Bucky looked at him confused, squinting his eyes a little.

“no way” sam replied and you pouted.

“why not?” You frowned, bucky was quiet as he observed the two of you.

“you’re a whole different person when you play!” Sam continued to shake his head, eating some of the fries bucky ordered, earning him a small angry ‘hey’ from the metal armed man.

“oh they can’t be that bad surely” bucky smiled at you, the frown on your face quickly replaced with a grin as you grabbed his metal hand and dragged him towards the air hockey table.

“oh god” sam mumbled, getting up from his seat and following the two of you through the crowd.

“you know how to play?” you asked bucky and he nodded. You handed him a paddle, and grabbed the puck, slipping in some coins and smiling brightly.

“for the record i am on Buckys team, simply out of spite” Sam spoke loudly, still eating Buckys fries.

“you’re eating all my fries!” Bucky grumbled and Sam rolled his eyes, shoving another handful of fries into his mouth.

“ready?” You asked and bucky nodded, you hit the puck gently, easing into the game. Bucky stuck it quickly, a smirk on his face as it smoothly went in. Your mouth dropped open as he scored.

“from what Sam said i thought you were better than that doll” bucky smirked, you felt butterflies in your stomach but you shoved them down, determined to beat him.

“was gonna go easy on you considering you might break your back trying to get the puck” you shot back, sams mouth wide open at your comment. Bucky smirked, you were witty and cute?

You took the puck and placed it down, hitting it quickly and bouncing it off the walls of the table, bucky strikes it quickly, you managed to hit it back before he scored and landed it cleanly in the goal. You smiled in satisfaction.

1-1

“glad to know you can score” bucky teased, hitting the puck, both of you focused on the game as you spoke.

“glad to know you won’t get a heart attack trying to keep up, old man” Sam watched from the side, eating the fries and enjoying the entertainment.

“i keep up quite well sweetheart” bucky replied, hitting the puck sharply and scoring, your eyes met and he smirked. You narrowed your eyes at him, grabbing the puck and hitting it quickly, he bounced it off the wall and you struck back without hesitation, the two of you going back and forth before you stuck the puck softly, catching him off guard before hitting it again and scoring.

“we’ll see about that james” your tone was sharp, bucky was taken back at the venom in your voice, looking at Sam with wide eyes.

“i warned you” the man chuckled, eating the last couple fries.

Bucky turned back to the game, both of you fiercely trying to score on the other.

“cmon thought you were a super soldier? cant use that extra strength to beat me?” You teased as you scored, bucky rolling his eyes at your tone.

“want me to put it to good use?” Buckys voice got deeper and you gulped a little, your Kees growing weak. He smirked and placed the puck on the table, your eyes unfocused as you thought of the tone of his voice. He scored easily, winning at you. “cats got your tongue?”

Your competitive nature got the best of you, anger rising in your chest as you saw the score, 9-8. You need two points to win, no way he was gonna beat you.

You set the puck down on the table, hitting it as soon as bucky tried to score again, not giving him time to move, a smile on your face as you heard it slide into the goal.

9-9

Bucky was silent as he set the puck down again, hitting it quickly, you were quick to react, bouncing it off the wall and into his own paddle. As bucky tried to move back to block the puck, he accidentally hit the puck with his paddle, causing it to slide into the goal and score on himself.

“i thought you could keep up?” You whined, pouting a bit before smirking at him proudly. Bucky bit his lip as the machine announced your win. You smiled at him as he set the paddle on the table, winking at him before turning around and telling Sam you were gonna go to the restroom.

Bucky was left in awe as you walked away, his mouth slightly agape. Sam smirked at the man, patting his shoulder as they walked to their table again.

“you like them dont you” Sam smiled and bucky looked at him like he was crazy.

“wha- me? No! i just met them!” Bucky protested and Sam rolled his eyes.

“as if you guys weren’t flirting that whole game?” Sam laughed and bucky shook his head.

“isn’t that how they talk to you when you guys play?” Sam widened his eyes and shook his head.

“oh god no i wish, last time they called me a bird brain!” Sam frowned and bucky laughed, “and then they said, ‘had known you were gonna play like this, i would’ve stayed home, it’s the same as playing with a fish’”

Bucky couldn’t stop the fit of laughter as Sam frowned at all the things you told him during the game, smiling slightly as he remembered the way you apologized after, hugging him and kissing his cheek and offering to buy him all the food he wanted.

“what’s so funny?” You asked, a smile on your face as you slid into the seat next to sam.

“just telling bucky all the things you say when we play” sam spoke and your face turned red.

“I’m really sorry, i hope i didn’t hurt your feelings or anything” you smiled softly and bucky shook his head.

“oh no I’m fine i get it” he smiled at you and you nodded, stomach in knots as you thought back to his words. Your throat went dry and you looked at him, quickly glancing to your hands. It didn’t go unnoticed by bucky though.

“actually, that super strength comment kinda hurt” he frowned slightly, trying his best to look genuinely hurt. You looked at him with wide eyes, frowning at his words.

“really? I’m sorry i didn’t mean it i swear, I’ll do anything to make it up to you” you spoke quickly, guilt washing over you.

“going on a date would make me feel so much better” bucky smiled and your mouth dropped, a smile on your face as you realized he was just messing with you.

You crossed your arms over chest as Sam smirked at bucky, proudly looking at him.

“if you wanted to ask me out you could’ve just said so sergeant” you smiled and bucky shrugged his shoulders.

“where’s the fun in that doll face” the two of you kept eye contact or a while, you wanted to just lean over the table and kiss him, bucky wanted nothing more than to crash his lips onto yours. Sam wanted more fries.

“is that a yes then?” Bucky asked and you were quiet for a moment before speaking up.

“maybe it is” you quipped, “depends” you smiled, making Sam shake his head as he realized where this was gonna go.

“depends on what?” Bucky questioned, cocking his head to the side as the smile on your face grew.

“how good are you at basketball?” You questioned, already getting up to head to the game, hand slipping into Bucky’s and pulling him behind you.

You were gonna be the death of him, but he didn’t mind it one bit.

[arty-shadow-morningstar]

A Failed Betrothal (6)

Here is a new chapter for you guys. I am terrible at writing feelings and this is my best shot.😅 Tell me what you think.

[Masterlist]

(PART 1)(PART 5)

-------

(Words in bold is French)

“Tch, Drake is going to be busy trying to find Hawkmoth. He can’t go around Paris, being Dupain-Cheng’s boyfriend. Besides, he can’t be a proper boyfriend even in his most lucid moments. I will be her boyfriend instead.”

Tim was glad he didn’t take a sip of his coffee when Damian volunteered to be Marinette’s boyfriend. But he still choked on air. Jason with his limited knowledge of french was confused. Damian didn’t do what he heard, right?

“No, you can’t. Chloe already told them about Tim. If I come in with a different boyfriend, they would get suspicious. We can work on Hawkmoth while we go on those dates. Besides, I thought you don’t like me. That’s not going to sell the image of a loving couple.” Marinette pointed out. (She also doesn’t want to do this fake-date thing. Not because she likes Damian and she had always been a goner for green eyes and totally would be date him if it weren’t for some stupid curse dictating her feelings for him and fake-dating him might get her catch feelings for him and she would get her heart broken when this is all over and she would stay single forever and be a lonely old lady with hamsters and cats for company.)

“Actually, Mari-bug, I only told the class how romantic your boyfriend is. I never told them what he looked like. Just in case, Timothy couldn’t make it. I have back-up favors to cash in.” Chloe explained.

Marinette didn’t even know why she was surprised at that, this was Chloe after all.

“You have more than one American boy around our age in your debt who you intend to be my boyfriend? Sounds like you, Queenie. So that also means that Damian doesn’t have to do it if he doesn’t want to.”

“My offer still stands. I will be your ‘boyfriend’ before I have to go back. I will be more understanding than those other American boys when you have to rush out for an attack. That is to assume that they can come here or agree. In our initial meeting, I didn’t like that weak girl act you put up. Recent events have made me realize that you are a much stronger person. (Careful Damian, that sounds like a compliment.) You are a decent partner to date.(Shit. Shit. Shit. That wasn’t a compliment, right?)”

Damian couldn’t see why Dupain-Cheng would refuse such a good deal. He supposed her feelings might be still hurt from his first impression of her. He would give her an apology when they are alone and away from his brothers who would make a big deal of it.

“Fine. At least, the curse will at least make this fake couple thing more believable.” grumbled Marinette. The light pink blush on her face is not because he said she was someone he would date.

Oh right, the curse. He swore internally, it had possessed him to be Dupain-Cheng’s boyfriend. He now would have to endure the hand-holding, kissing and staring into each other’s eyes, and try to resist the curse which will be much harder now. Somehow, he didn’t regret it a little bit. It sounds more bearable with him doing those things with her than her with Drake. This was just a mutual agreement to ward off her suitors and prove to her classmates that she was off the market.

Chloe clapped her hands,“If we have everything sorted out, you can start being a good boyfriend by walking Marinette to school today. We want to be on time now.”

The others started packing up their stuff or finished what they were eating. Marinette was dragged out of the bakery by an impatient Damian. Chloe and Alix picked up what Marinette left behind and followed out. The rest soon left right after, leaving the two boys in the bakery.

“Hey, Replacement, tell me if I am wrong but did Demon Spawn willingly ask a girl out?” Jason asked, stealing a croissant from Tim.

“Try making himself the perfect candidate to be her fake boyfriend out of many choices, including me, and get her to agree to it. Now he has to go on a few romantic dates with Marinette in order to ward off this really pushy guy in her class. Demon Spawn also has a crush on her and he’s in denial of it. We are not hallucinating either. I’ve checked.” Tim replied, sipping his coffee.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Damian. Let go. Hey, Wayne, are you listening to me? Let me go. This is not how you treat your significant other. And you are not even going in the right direction.” Marinette all but yelled at him.

He released his grip on her. “My apologies for manhandling you but I wanted to tell you this away from everybody else.”

“What?” She asked, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes.

I- This is a little difficult to say for me,” Damian started. (Why were his palms sweaty? It’s just an apology. He had done it before although it was mostly because Grayson told him what he did wrong and made him do it.) “But I am sorry for calling you weak, pathetic and every other bad thing I have said about you when you have shown that you are anything but those. I was mad at myself for being caught and took it out on you.”

Her glare softened.

“Apologies accepted. The school is this way.” She said with a smile and went towards the school. Damian walked by her side, his hands in his pockets.

Marinette looked at where his hands were, “If we are going to do this fake dating thing, I suggest we hold hands.”

Damian grabbed her hand and continued walking in silence. Her hands were so small and fitted perfectly in his. Oh God, it’s the curse again. Turning him into a sap. Do not think about her hands. And the fact that she took down a man twice her size with them which was an amazing sight to watch.

“Why are you so stiff? Loosen up a little. You are with the love of your life. Smile a little.”

Damian plastered on a fake smile, “Happy?”

“It looks fake. Being a model he will be able to tell.” Marinette remarked, “Are you sure you want to do this? We can still go get Tim to be my boyfriend.”

“I can do this. Drake wouldn’t be a better choice. It doesn’t help that you are relentlessly nit-picking me. Or are you that bad of a girlfriend?” Damian couldn’t help but sniped back. “Maybe that’s why Chat Noir left you.”

He found himself back against the world and her elbow at his neck. (He would forever deny that he liked it.)

“Look here, Wayne. You know nothing about me and you shouldn’t assume that you do. Chat Noir was revoked of his status as a hero for his behaviour. If you don’t act the part properly, I am going to have my former partner, who has absolutely no sense of boundaries, harassing me in my civilian life and I have already dealt enough of his advances to last a lifetime. I have given you so many chances to get out of this which you refused and yet, you are half-assing it. So are you in this 100 percent or not? Because I am at the end of my patience right now.”

“The boy who is obsessed with you is the former Chat Noir?”

“Yes, I will explain about that later but what’s your answer?”

“I will give it my best shot but I have never pretended to be in love.”

“Were you not taught in the League?”

“There were seduction tactics shown to members when they were old enough and I left them when I was 10 but I am not sure if those skills can be applied here.”(Slamming your opponent against the wall wasn’t one of them but she was doing a great job of it so far. No. No. No. He is not his father. This is different from whatever he has with Kyle.)

She released her hold on him and grabbed his hand, leading him towards her school.

“Well then, here are the basics. Everytime you look at me, just think of your favourite things to make your smile a little more genuine. Maybe call me by a pet name if you want. Keep your touch on me like you can’t keep your hands off of me and act really reluctant when you have to let go. You will only keep them my shoulders, arms, hands and waist or I will break your hand. I will do the same. If you are going to have to kiss me, give me a warning.” He looked into her blue eyes and nodded.

“Alright.”

“Oh. I almost forgot. In case they try to question our relationship. My favourite colour is red. My favourite song is ‘Fearless’ by Jagged Stone.(I love Taylor. Sue me) And we met online a few months ago. You came all the way to Paris to see me a month ago and asked me out. We will talk more that later. Oh, I also love designing and have dreams of being a famous fashion designer.-”

Marinette rambled on which Damian found a little endearing. He looked forward to knowing more about her. He added a few comments here or there about himself (because it was only fair.) and ways to improve their cover story about their relationship.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“We are nearly at school. Let’s start the act, Romeo.” Marinette whispered at him and looked at him with a bright smile that brought a tiny smile to his face. Okay, maybe he liked Marinette a little bit but that doesn’t mean he’s in love with her.

He moved her hand holding his to the crook of his elbow.

“Is this acceptable, my lady?”

She wrinkled her nose, (Adorable. No. Don’t go there) “This is fine. But can you not call me that? And princess too? I may have erased his memories as Chat Noir but it could be a trigger to bring them back.”

“Understandable. What about Malak?”

She blushed. Marinette had learned Arabic a while back and was very fluent in the language.

“It’s okay.” She said in a soft voice. She put her other hand on his bicep and leaned on his shoulder.

“You don’t look like a touchy-feely person so is this fine?”

“Yes.”

“Cool, let me tell you more about the atrocious lies that had passed her mouth.”

They walked into the school courtyard, arm-in-arm, for the entire school, especially Marinette’s class, to see. The perfect picture of a loving couple. Marinette’s blush from earlier was evident on her face, leaving no room for doubt about her new relationship status. (Many guys, gals and pals were upset over it.) As they both walked up the stairs, whispering and laughing about who knows what (gulliable and idiotic classmates they have to suffer learning with), two pairs of green eyes followed them.

In this case, the saying ‘green-eyed monsters’ was true. One was envious of the boy who held the girl he wanted in his arms and the other was envious of the attention the couple was receiving.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Damian escorted Marinette to her class. He gave her a kiss on her cheek and said, loud enough for the class to hear, “Bye, Malak. I will pick you up after school for our date.”

“B-bye, Damian.”

He took her hand, gave a kiss to the back of it and departed, leaving a very red-faced Marinette behind. The rest of the class parted the way as Damian walked past.

She rushed into her seat where Chloe sat beside it, grinning like a Cheshire Cat.

“Sooooo, Mari-bug, how was your date? You two rushed out of there so quickly and left your stuff behind. So eager to spend time with your boyfriend, eh? You enjoyed it very much by the looks of it.”

“Sorry about that, Chloe. Did you bring my bag and the cheese danishes?” Marinette tried to change the topic. And she also wanted to make sure a god of destruction doesn’t go hungry and angsty during school. “Yep, here you go,” Chloe said, handing Marinette her bag and a box of cheese-flavoured snacks for Plagg, “Your mom packed some for you.”

“Marinette. Where have you been the last two days? And you came back with a boy. I am honestly worried about your behaviour.” Lila played the concerned classmate wonderfully.

“Yeah, Marinette. This is a new low, even for you.” Alya added.

Marinette readied herself to tell the cover story Damian and her worked out on the way here.

“Lila, I appreciate your ‘concern’. But the last four days have been a little hard on me so excuse me if I am a little snappy today. You see, Damian disappeared and didn’t return home after school on Friday. So when he didn’t pick up for our weekly video call, I panicked and called his family and they told me what happened. They sent me a plane to get out of Paris so I can’t get akumatized.”

“Was that why you were gone on Saturday?” Chloe asked, playing along although she already knew why Marinette wasn’t in Paris the last four days.

“Yeah. Sorry for not telling you guys. It was sorta last minute. Thankfully, he wasn’t kidnapped actually. His biological mother picked him up but never told his father that she was taking him. I just came back last night. Dami followed me to make sure I am okay.”

“What a bunch of bullcrap.” Alya said, “I don’t believe you.”

Oh. The irony... “Alya, I don’t care if you do. My life is my own business. So keep your nosy nose out of it. Your opinions don’t matter to me anymore, stranger.” Marinette internally was tired of this silly routine and wanted this to end already.

Alya wanted to pick a fight with her over the smallest things she did for the past months. She wondered why her former best friend hated her this much.

“Lila told me that you were skipping school and you paid an actor to be your pretend boyfriend.”

Pretending to not hear what Alya said, Marinette turned towards Chloe, “Hey, you never told me about how you met Tim. I can’t believe that you two are friends.”

“We met at one of those charity galas-”

“Hey, we were talking to you.” Alya cut her off. To which Chloe glared at the ombre-haired girl.

“I thought our conversation was done. What else am I supposed to say?”

Marinette was frustrated and hid that fact well, showing any reaction would give the game away. If she had reacted, it would further fuel the fire of Alya’s self-righteousness, making her believe that Marinette was somehow guilty of what Lila told her about. Lila managed to turn nearly the entire class against her by appealing to their ‘hero’ side and outbursts from Marinette and the others made them more sure of themselves of being in the right. It was so deep-rooted that nothing would sway them to logical reasoning. Maybe except Phase 2. Phase 1 was made a little easier when Talia kidnapped her and made her miss a few days of school.

Phase 2 was to not acknowledge the lies or just appear uninterested. It would illustrate the point that people don’t have to listen to them if they don’t want to. If possible, sow little seeds of doubt to the ones Lila had a looser grip on. The more people they can slowly get on their side, the better.

Alya was confused, usually Marinette would throw a ‘temper tantrum’ about how she didn’t do that and Lila lied.“I-, you should-, You should apologize to Lila.”

Marinette raised an eyebrow, “For what this time?”

“For saying that she was lying.”

“Pray tell, when did in any of our conversations so far did I do that? I mean I don’t like the fact that she just accused me with little evidence of paying my someone to be my boyfriend but I am not going to fight with anyone over it. Maybe I did do that, Maybe I didn’t. Maybe there is a good reason I did those things. The thing is Lila should keep to her own business and I will keep to mine. And as should you. I know you are a reporter at heart but you should at the very least respect my privacy.”

Alya stayed silent, fuming. Everyone was looking at them now. She realized that the designer was right and if she pushed further, she would be the bad guy.

“I thought so. Now, go away. I have nothing else to say to you. Let Chloe finish her story of how she met Tim which you so rudely interrupted.”

“Who’s Tim?” Lila asked, wanting to know more about Marinette’s boyfriend to work on an angle to get him away from the ravenette.

“Mari-Bug’s boyfriend’s older brother. Now, shoo peasants, we are talking. Anyways, Mommy took me to when I was younger so I could mingle with all the other rich kids and get connections. Timothy was there and back then, he was still with the Drakes...”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lila and Alya returned to their seats, both were visibly upset although Lila was seething inside. When Marinette was not at school for the last two days, the Italian thought that it was the last she had seen of her. Today, she showed up with a handsome boy on her arm and by the looks of his clothes, rich too. If she manages to get ‘Damian’ to break up with that pest and date her instead, then she would have a rich, handsome boyfriend devoted to her and that brat would be so heart-broken that an akuma so powerful would be made that even Ladybug won’t be able to defeat. A two for one deal. Lila started planning (scheming) to take her boyfriend away.

------

(Part 7)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Edit: I am so sorry. I forget to add the taglist.

Tag list: @alysrose-starchild, @buginetye, @lookatthestars1, @blackroserelina, @macncheesemonster, @mochinek0, @myazael, @tonicxworld, @thewitchwhowaited, @t1dwarrior-of-earth, @kissa-chan, @iwantasecretidentity, @theymakeupfairies, @user00000003, @woe-is-me0, @kashlyn, @mochegato,@moonlightstar64 , @greatcatblaze, @moongoddesskiana, @tazanna-blythe. @tonicxworld, @toodaloo-kangaroo, @frieddonutsweets, @local-witch-of-mn, @lady-bee-fechin, @iglowinggemma28, @indecisive-mess-named-me, @k-tea-and-coffee, @jayjayspixiepop, @all-mights-asscheeks, @idk-j-go-with-it , @loysydark, @thenillabean, @lolieg, @zalladane, @silvergold-swirl, @henie04, @blueblossombliss, @khneltea, @mochegato, @itsmeevie01, @roguishredaxion, @alyssadeliv, @steph-hearthlight, @adrestar, @eliza-bich, @abrx2002, @hikari55ttva, @doglover82, @daminette5074, @moon5608,@justafanwarrior, @allis-sun, @animegirlweeb, @aespades, @corporeal-terrestrial, @mildlydeadly, @kanamexzeroyaoifangirl,

[hansolmates]

the proposal (m)

banner done by the ammmahhzzing @eerieedits​

summary; Jeon’s the editor-in-chief for Big Hit Publishings, a closet romantic with a penchant for antagonizing his assistant on the reg. When his work visa is in the process of being renewed and he takes a trip to Norway, his eligibility to stay in America is on the line. However Jeon Jungkook doesn’t go without a fight, and in order to save his job he offers you a proposal you can't refuse. pairing; editor!Jungkook x assistant!reader (f) genre/warnings; the proposal!au, fake marriage au, enemies to friends(!!!), friends to lovers, bouts of flangst, dry humping, slight blood but not too bad, lang, alcohol, poor jjk discovers he has the ability to feel emotion, poor y/n is in the middle as always w.c; 20.1k of endless banter and koo hiding his romantic side a/n; yeah, it’s almost summer. But i think we need a lil holiday magic in our lives! I rewatched the proposal this weekend and whipped this up. Why is koo so gosh darn easy to write? This is my longest fic since i wrote maze runner back in 2014!! i rec this extension to get fully immersed in 2pov! Enjoy and pls tell me if there’s any errors im too poopied to proofread it again drabbles; 01

“When I hired you, you basically signed a contract that said you’d do anything for me.” 

“Yeah, Jeon. I did. That meant like, getting you coffee or working late hours—normal work stipulations,” you can feel the hair on your scalp growing thinner, “not commit fucking fraud!” 

Your boss looks moreso frustrated than you are, but you cease to care. Jeon Jungkook has been nothing but a thorn in your side since your employment at Big Hit Publishing two years ago. Being a budding author who wanted to graduate from online sites and freelancing, you accepted the job as the editor-in-chief’s assistant in the hopes of getting your first book published. 

However, your dreams of being an editor are quickly dissipating, especially when Jungkook corners you this afternoon and announces that he may have left America during the time his work visa was still processing. He may have to give over his editor-in-chief position because there’s no way he can get a work visa processed in time. As a result of this information, he may have told his supervisors that you seduced him on a late night one year ago, and you two fell in love and have been secretly engaged ever since. 

Because y’know, your citizenship to this country is an asset to the company. 

“We didn’t have to go to Norway to PR Emma Watson’s autobio,” you huff, fingers going pale from how hard you were gripping your iPad. Jungkook is an esteemed workaholic, and you have no idea where it stems from. You remember that trip to Oslo, Jungkook insisting that you and him both go to make sure everything goes smoothly.

“You weren’t complaining when we went to that restaurant with the open bar.” he runs a hand through his coiffed hair, making the pomade untack from its style. “You got so drunk that Emma held you while you cried about global warming.” 

Wholly unamused, you frown. “Jungkook, can you please take this seriously?”

“I’m taking this seriously, you’re not the one who’s about to be deported in two weeks!” Jungkook hisses, face dangerously close to yours. Not that anyone would know what he’s saying, but you can tell from his defenses that he genuinely is nervous. 

“You wouldn’t be deported if you had just set an earlier appointment to renew your Visa!” 

“I wouldn’t be deported if you had just set an earlier appointment to renew my Visa!” 

At least twenty pairs of eyes are watching your confrontation, probably making their own conclusions as to what you two were fighting about again. Curse this office for having full-walled windows, you often feel like an ant in a plastic farm. Your work relationship is an anomaly to the rest of the staff. Before you started working at Big Hit, Jungkook’s assistants did not last long. Within the first week of working, you understood why. 

Jungkook whirls around his desk, glaring at the glass doors as he puts himself between the staff and you. “If you don’t marry me,” he says lowly, close enough for his hot breath to fan your face, coupled with his fresh-scented cologne. It annoys you how good he smells. “You’ll also be replaced because they want to give the my position to fuckin’ Karen of all people,” you fight the twitch of your lips. The only thing you two mutually agreed upon is the hatred of his co-editor, Karen. “All of the late nights we’ve worked together, the gallons of coffees you consumed, putting up with my shit, your dreams of becoming an author,” his eyes flicker to the way the grip in your iPad trembles, “will go down the drain and turn to shit. Whether you like it or not, we’re in this together.” 

Pretending to be unfazed, you bat your lashes, “So are you saying, you need me?” 

“For fuck’s sake—”

“Ah-ah, Jungkook. I’m not going to ask you to get on one knee, but you should at least tell me how much you need me.” 

You assume with great confidence that the only reason you’re kept on Jungkook’s payroll is because you’re not afraid to stand up to Jungkook’s bullshit. He looks positively disgusted at the mere thought of paying you an iota of a compliment. You’d say on average, you get half a compliment a month from Jungkook. You say half because he’ll compliment you, then downplay it with whatever flaw he can fabricate to get under your skin. 

He loosens his lavender paisley tie, annoyed. “Fine. I need you. I need you because you’re the only one who knows me well enough to be my wife. You’re the only woman I’ve had full conversations with in two years and knows all my dietary restrictions, favorite books, foods, and hobbies. By process of elimination, you are my best candidate.” 

“Romantic,” you roll your eyes, “I guess I do,” you push him away with a finger to his chest, “but I want a raise. And after we finish Sorn and Mark’s project, I want you to read my novel.” 

“Done and done.” 

“Well Jeon, I guess you’ve wifed me up with your ways of seduction.” you muse sardonically, feeling more upset for yourself than anything. 

“Fantastic,” he sighs, finally throwing his tie across the desk and plopping in his armchair. “Cancel the call with Janet, call PR about Irene Kim’s interview on Ellen, and order me a medium rare steak from J.J. Bittings with a side of brussels.” 

“Right,” you mutter under your breath as you pull up your checklist, as if you didn’t just give away your life to the Devil incarnate. 

Jungkook’s back is already facing you, focusing on his computer displaying two new manuscripts. “Oh, and on your way to J’s don’t forget to pick up your ring at Saks.”

“Bitch, you’re asking me to pick up my fake wedding ring?” 

Unbothered, he shrugs. You see the planes of his shoulders stretch beneath the blazer, because he’s deemed this conversation long over and he has work to do. “Yeah, but it’s real diamonds.” 

You’ve been seeing red for days. 

While the rock on your ring finger is indeed beautiful because Jungkook has impeccable taste, it drags you down and arouses the elephant in the room everytime you show up for work. 

You get enough stares on the daily, and you were just getting used to the looks of pity and sympathy for working under Jungkook, but now there are only snickers and playful winks as you trudge down the cubicles every morning. Everyday feels like the runway at a shitshow, and you are the headliner. 

Taehyung clapped you none-too-hard on the back when you showed up to work the next morning, congratulating you on the engagement. “Can’t believe you’re fuckin’ the big boss!” 

The rest of the staff poke their eyes out of their cubicles like Digletts, and you shush them, using your hand to make them sink down. 

Coffee is spilling down your shirt thanks to him, and you reach for tissues in his cubicle. “Can you not say it like that, please?” 

“Oh, come on. I heard from the supervisors Jungkook went on about how you seduced him late at night and took charge,” Taehyung wiggles his eyebrows approvingly, and you fight the urge to not throw up your coffee in his face. “How do you keep it so professional? Or do you save all that pent-up energy for after hours?” 

“You disgust me,” you grimace, stepping out of his cubicle and immediately regret wasting your five-minute break conversing with the typist.

Striding back into Jungkook’s office, he doesn’t hesitate to rattle off the next items on today’s agenda. He barely looks at you when you stride in, too focused on whatever corrections he’s slashing in red ink. 

“Did you get Taemin’s second draft?” 

“No, and I told him that if he can’t get me the draft by tonight he won’t get a publishing deadline and the number of copies published will be decreased by a third.” 

“And Taehyung’s author agreed to our stipulations?” 

“Of course, she’d be dead not to.”  you mutter, “she’s a nineteen year old Influencer, what would she know?” 

“Exactly, that’s why we milk it out as long as we can.” Jungkook throws the first draft in a large, intimidating pile, mixing in with all the others like a needle in a haystack. “Which is why it’s important we snag dinner with her this weekend, we can really—”

“What, this weekend?” your sense of equilibrium cracks, and you walk forward to put his hands on his desk. “I took this coming week off for Christmas. I’ve planned this for months.” 

“I know.”

“I can’t just cancel my flight! I saved up for that!”

“And?” Jungkook brushes off your fury like a piece of lint, “I’m Korean. Christmas is a fake holiday for me.” 

“You can’t just tell me I can’t go home to my family, it’s the fucking holidays!” 

“Why not, I’ve done it before. Remember on Valentine’s day when I told you the only date you have is a date with Kwon Boa’s publicist? Or on Secretaries Day when I argued that you don’t feel appreciated by society anyway and therefore why bother taking one extra day off? Or during Easter when your family screamed in my office on speakerphone that you should quit—”

“Okay,” no need to be reminded of how much you’ve wasted your life for this man, “but this is different. I’ve already bought plane tickets and this holiday is special. It’s a whole family reunion in the Poconos and we’ve reserved over five houses to fit all of us! I can’t just ditch!” 

“But I need you!” he replied just as hotly, in a tone that reminded you so many times of how tethered you are by this man. Two years have gone by, and the only thing that kept those strings together is the constant ache in getting your first novel published. “With all the marriage stuff and stupid extentions we had to make on these writers there’s no way we can get everything done before winter ends!” 

“You’ve done it before, why can’t you just ask Taehyung to assist—”

“Trouble in paradise?” 

A chill travels up your spine, and you and Jungkook exchange panicked eye contact. A tiny, pretty blonde lady struts in the room like it's hers, plopping a fruit basket atop Jungkook’s manuscripts. 

“If by paradise you mean our relationship, then no.” Jungkook’s the first to recover, meeting you at your side and stretching an arm around your waist. “I’d say work-wise things are getting a little rough, but nothing we can’t handle. We’re a team, after all.” 

“I just wanted to stop by as I was in the neighborhood,” the woman says, making herself comfortable in a leather seat reserved for guests. “Congratulations again on your engagement.” 

You tack on a smile, squeezing Jungkook’s arm a little too hard, but it’s enough to make the lady in front of you smile back. “What brings you here, Taeyeon?” 

Kim Taeyeon is Jungkook’s immigration liaison, AKA the person responsible for making sure you’re not breaking the law. She’s a pretty thing, with eyes sharp but a smile that’s soft and deceiving. 

“It’s just a shame you two have to rush a civil wedding,” Taeyeon sighs, looking at the window overlooking the city. 

“Ah, it takes some of the planning stress off my back, really.” you force a laugh, tugging Jungkook to sit on the couch opposite her. “At least one thing is done. The thought of planning a whole wedding with over two-hundred people is so stressful.” 

You weren’t really going to have a white wedding with Jungkook (however you may have entertained the thought, which is reflected in your Google search history) but you had to keep up the ruse that you were. A civil wedding in two weeks, then a quickie divorce a year later. 

“I know! My wedding was a real mess let me tell you, straight out of a movie!” Taeyeon is certainly the type of person to make you feel at ease, so at ease that it’s simple for you to melt your front. “But besides the point, are you two doing anything special for the holidays?” 

“Ah, well I bought a flight to meet my family in the Poconos,” you start, trying not to succumb to your nervous habit of wringing your fingers. You grab Jungkook’s hand as a reprieve. 

“And you’re not going?” Taeyeon’s gaze snaps, yes snaps, to Jungkook. 

You try to step in, realizing your flaw. “We’ve just been so swamped with work, all the immigration stuff and with these book delays Jungkook suggested he stay behind—” 

“But we’ve decided to prioritize our personal life and enjoy Christmas with our family,” Jungkook swoops in, threading his fingers between yours. He flashes Taeyeon a smile, and from the way his face lights up and his nose crinkles, you could’ve mistaken it to be genuine. “I’ve never experienced a big family Christmas, y’know. I’ve missed snowboarding too, I used to do it a lot in highschool.” 

“Oh, that’s just so sweet!” Taeyeon cooes, clasping her hands together. “Do send some pictures when you come back!” 

“Of course,” Jungkook stands up and attempts to leave Taeyeon out. You follow in tow, She obliges easily, mentioning something about just wanting to check in and she also has work to do. 

“Also,” Taeyeon’s head flickers to the people sitting outside Jungkook’s office. “You should manage those workers out there,” she looks at you, sympathetic. “Apparently, they didn’t peg you as the type of person to sleep their way to the top. And that’s just what I heard from walking down the hall once!” she laughs, tinkling brighter than a windchime, but you just tighten the grip on Jungkook’s palm. “Such a childish assumption. Things can be much more complicated.” 

She tips a “happy holidays” off her shoulder, and you both are smiling like the loving couple you are. As soon as the elevator doors close and Taeyeon is really gone, Jungkook moves to let go of your hand, but you hold him in your grasp. 

“She’s onto us,” you snap, tugging him closer to you so your co-workers wouldn’t read your lips. 

“Don’t you think I know that?” he bites back. He looks offendingly at the fruit basket adorning his desk. 

“What if we get caught, Jungkook?” you start to spiral, feeling your deepest fears crawl to the forefront of your brain. You’ve done extensive Google research on commiting fraud, and if you do get caught, Jungkook will never be able to come back to this country and you’ll have a fine of up to $250,000. Your boss doesn’t pay you nearly enough to get by with that kind of debt. “We’ll ruin this company, and our lives, and any hope of being published or credible.” 

“Hey, relax,” Jungkook whispers in your ear, the tone oddly comforting. He pulls you into his arms, and you barely have a chance to recover when he squeezes you extra tight around your waist. Jungkook only ever hugs you when doing PR, and even then it’s an awkward half-hug. Hell, he never hugged you on your birthday. “This is what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna book my flight to the Poconos, bring some manuscripts so we can work remotely, and no one will ever know.” 

You sigh into his arms, nodding tiredly. It feels nice to be hugged like this. His arms are strong and warm, and you feel small and protected. It’s been a while since you’ve felt like that. Maybe Jungkook did have a heart under all that muscle. 

“I’m putting up a good show, aren’t I?” he says, and you feel your heart drop just a little. Disappointed, but not surprised. 

From your view facing the cubicles, you see at least half the employees comically bugged with  heart eyes at you, enamored by your fake relationship. 

“Do not stretch your long-ass legs on this plane, Jeon,” you nudge your smaller leg away from your section of leg room, “Jesus, we’re flying economy!” 

It scares you how little you fought against Jungkook joining you for the winter holiday. It is the logical decision after all, Taeyeon is on your trail about your sudden engagement and you both needed to keep up the ruse. That includes going on family vacations. Also, the fact that Jungkook works through Christmas because he doesn’t celebrate it does make you feel a little bad. You can’t remember the last time the man took a vacation. 

The man in question barely moves at your weak attempt, and stretches his leg even further across your seat. “Sorry, babe,” he says, fishing around his seat for the included blanket. 

“It’s fine, Kookie.” You reply sweetly, and decide to kick off your shoes to drape a leg over Jungkook’s thighs, “you’re like a portable footrest!” 

He looks absolutely insulted at your objectification, but smartly decides to choose his battles and lets you keep your position. Tucking himself in with a scratchy blanket he waves you off, “Whatever, just wake me up when we arrive.” 

“What, no.” you pull up your iPad, shoving the note entry in his face. “I know everything about you, and yet you know nothing about me. I made this easy on you and just wrote everything down. You just have to read it.” 

“Seriously? I’ve known you for over two years, I’m sure I know enough about you.” 

“Really, then how do I like my coffee?” 

“Uh… hot?” 

You give him a look and he knows. With a sigh he grabs the iPad from your hands. Within seconds he’s giving you another dirty look, as if he’s skimming a conspiracy novel. 

“You know all this random shit about me?” Jungkook asks, scrolling down as to what feels like your life story. 

“Yes, because unlike you, I listen when you talk.” 

“Fine. What’s my favorite type of weather?” 

“A warm and sunny day, which correlates to your favorite kind of date which is walking along the beach at sunset. Cliché much?” 

“Okay, rude. Who’s my favorite artist?” 

“You like a little bit of everything, but since seventh grade you’ve been pining for IU. In the office, you like to sing along to Lauv and Hozier.” 

“Favorite movie?” 

“The Marvel Series. But you really like 5 Centimeters Per Second, you like the romance.” 

“And how do you know my favorite anime movie is 5 Centimeters Per Second? I’m pretty sure I’ve never told you that.” 

“Jeon, when we were promoting Momo Hirai’s self-help book at Anime Expo you were gone for two and a half hours at 1:50 sharp.” your boss’ Adam’s apple bobs and he swallows thickly at your admonition. “And low and behold, you gave yourself thirty minutes’ time to line up early because when I checked the schedule Makoto Shinkai had a panel on ‘The Otaku’s Perspective on Romantic—”

“Alright alright, I get it.” Jungkook slumps in his seat, as comfy as it can get with your legs draped around him and a seat at the far end of the plane. You know he’s trying to hide a blush, and you feel proud for making him a little flustered. “You’re lucky I’m a fast reader.” 

The plane ride goes relatively fast, with Jungkook asking quick questions about your family and other random things. It’s like playing a game of 20 Questions, instead it’s the final boss battle with 200 questions and if he doesn’t get them all right, the penalty is deportation. 

When you land, you’re both stiff and glazed over. Once you exit the terminal, Jungkook ditches you for the bathroom and says he’ll meet you at the luggage pickup. You give yourself a few moments, gearing yourself up for the long week ahead of you. At the luggage pickup, you see a tall man watch the revolving conveyor belt with interest. Either that, or he’s zoning out. 

“Joonie!” you cry, nearly dropping your phone upon seeing your big brother. He’s dressed comfortably in a grey sweat ensemble, as if he rolled out of bed and came straight to the airport. 

A bright grin takes over his face, and he doesn’t hesitate to smush your body against his. Under his tall frame you sway, your toes barely swiping the ground. “You’re alive!” he cheers, pulling back and holding your shoulders to get a real look at you. “I can see you’ve gained a little weight, eyes are a little dark, but I’m glad the Devil let you go. I still can’t forgive him for making you skip out on Jin’s wedding.” 

You don’t appreciate the way that Namjoon picks and prods at your exhaustion, but you know he means well. While he does not know your boss by face and name, he had enough artilerary from the billions of phone calls to learn about the Devil and the havoc he’s wreaked upon your life.

When you don’t respond he gets the cue that you do not want to talk about work this week, and he smacks his lips together. “But nothing a little R&R can’t fix! The ski resort nearby has a really nice outdoor jacuzzi and we could set an appointment for facials if you’d like. Or we could do absolutely nothing and turn into baked potatoes and watch movies until our eyes burn up.” 

“Both would be great,” you smile softly, catching two familiar suitcases make their rounds on your flight’s conveyor belt. You grab your pink luggage with one hand, and Jungkook’s black chrome one with your other. 

“So, where’s the new beau?” Namjoon rocks back and forth on his heels, hoping to get a glimpse of the mystery boy you mentioned you’d be bringing as of two days ago. 

“He really had to go to the bathroom,” you squint your eyes to make out the newcomers exiting the dropoff area. “Oh, there he is. Kook!” 

Like a goddamn model, he struts in your field of vision like nobody’s business. Unlike you who stayed in your apartment all day before leaving, Jungkook decided to spend a few hours at Big Hit in the morning to tie up most of the loose ends before your trip. He’s talking to what you assume to be is a client, noting the way his brow furrows as he clutches his phone with a tight hold. He’s changed out of his tie and leather oxfords, but he’s dressed crisply in a dark button up and blazer ensemble, still wholly overdressed for a family reunion. 

Namjoon starts behind you, “He looks...” 

“Handsome?” you goad, elbowing him, “Charismatic? Undeniable presence?” 

“Hard.” 

You don’t know what to make of that adjective, and you subtly shrink further in your jacket as you mull over the implications of his word choice. 

Jungkook steps up to the two of you, ending his call. His eyes float between you and your brother, and he manages to put two and two together. “Hey man,” Jungkook gives a practiced smile, extending a hand. “I’m Jungkook, I’ve heard lots of things about you.” 

“Good things, I hope.” Namjoon chuckles, returning the handshake. “I’ve heard absolutely nothing about you, though. Can’t wait to get to know you this week.” 

“Looking forward to it,” Jungkook takes his luggage and Namjoon grabs yours, leading you two out to his minivan. While Namjoon is preoccupied with getting the car started, Jungkook looks at you as if he’s already regretting making the trip down. “This girl has two braincells to her name. I just got off the phone with Sorn’s publicist.” 

“What trouble can an influencer do?” you reply in disbelief. 

“Exactly, influencing is the trouble,” he pinches the bridge of his nose, “she did some mukbang and now she’s in the hospital for food poisoning.” 

“Ah, don’t get too worked up,” you help him lug your suitcases in the trunk. You spot Namjoon subtly eyeing you two from the rear mirror. Pressing a thumb between his brows, you make work to melt away the 11-shaped stress lines on his forehead. “Let’s just send her a Lush gift basket and she’ll be fine.” 

You ignore the way Jungkook’s gaze lingers on you longer than needed, running over to your seat at shotgun. 

The inside of his car smells like bergamot and lemon, and the sweet, vulnerable side of you wants to cry over how much you’ve missed your brother’s scent. It’s been way too long. 

Once you’re all safely in the car and driving Namjoon says, “So, are you going to hide the engagement ring or give the family a collective heart attack?” 

You tense, hands automatically floating to the teardrop diamond weighing heavily on your ring finger. The story that you two contrived about your relationship isn’t too complicated, but complex enough that it seems convincing. Instead of being your boss, Jungkook is your Literary Agent who gives you referrals to new and upcoming authors. You working closely together and bonding over the stresses of the publishing world, have kept a secret relationship under wraps for over a year to avoid any unprofessionalism or favoritism. 

“I was thinking about that the whole ride, actually,” you twirl the metal back and forth, watching it gleam in the light. “Mom and dad know, but I don’t wanna lie to the rest of my family. They’ll freak out because it’s the first time they’re meeting Kook and we’re already engaged. It’s just a location thing, y’know. You guys don’t live in the city so we’ve never had a chance to really talk it out.” 

Namjoon snorts, “Or, because your boss never gives you a break.” 

If Jungkook finds any offense, he doesn’t show it. Putting what should be a comforting hand on your shoulder, he says from the back seat, “I already told you babe, do what makes you comfortable. But I don’t want to lie to your parents early on, you don’t wanna make the situation any more complicated.” 

In other words, you better tell them about our engagement because Taeyeon could be hiding in the bushes waiting to catch us. 

“Smart man,” Namjoon says shortly, but you can’t tell whether it’s a compliment or not. 

“Yeah,” you exhale, turning to smile stiffly at Jungkook, “no use hiding the inevitable, right?” 

The next couple hours are overwhelming. There’s a party right when you walk in your winter villa, your parents throwing you a reunion party (not for your family, but for you specifically because you’ve been MIA since Big Hit) with the house filled to the brim with family members. Within seconds your favorite cousin checks out the rock on your finger and screams that you’re engaged. 

Everyone must be so high off the fact that you’ve made it to a family event that they’re elated you have a life outside of work. Jungkook is treated like a prince, charming the hell out of all your aunties and baby cousins. 

“Oh, pumpkin!” your auntie squeals, linking arms with you while you’re trying to eat your dinner, “I just hugged your fiancé, and he has abs! Lucky you!” 

“Auntie,” you hiss playfully, “you hugged him that tight?” 

“He’s part of the family, isn’t he?” 

“Right,” you force a smile, downing your glass of champagne. The bubbles burn your throat pleasantly. 

“Babe, can you come here for a second?” Jungkook manages to swim his way through the throng in the living room, holding out a hand for you, “your mom said that our room is ready, care to lead the way?” 

His smile, as pretty as you can care to admit, renders your aunt speechless, and she lets him whisk you away to a long hallway that leads to a set of bedrooms. Jungkook lets go of your hand as soon as you're alone, letting his palm run along the pictures that decorate your hallway. 

He stops at a picture of you and Namjoon as kids, faces tanned and lips cherry red from your twin popsicles melting on your hands. “Wow,” Jungkook pretends to be alarmed, “I didn’t know you used to be cute, what happened?” 

“Shut up,” you smack his hand away, walking ahead of him. 

“I thought you guys reserved a bunch of houses, why does the furniture look worn and there’s pictures of you everywhere?” 

“Our extended family has reserved houses, but this is actually my family’s vacation home. I used to go here every winter and summer break,” you reach a bedroom in the corner of the hall, smiling at your wooden name tag hanging on the front, “this is my old room.” 

It certainly doesn’t have that youthful charm it once had, but there are still bits of your childhood scattering the room. There’s ticket stubs and photobooth strips tacked to a corkboard near your desk. Books that you would reread cover to cover are organized proudly on your shelf, worn for wear. 

Jungkook groans in relief, plopping his body down on your freshly made bed. “Your family’s really clingy.” he sighs, throwing an arm over his eyes. 

You turn to give him a snappy answer, but it dies in your throat when you see what he’s laying on. The familiar family quilt sinks under Jungkook’s weight, mocking you. You shriek, throwing your arms over to lug his body to the other side of the bed. Bundling up the quilt in your arms, you glare at a very appalled Jungkook. 

“The hell is wrong with you, woman!” he cries, not loud enough to escape the room, but enough to have your body vibrate in annoyance. 

“Jeon, they put the fucking baby blanket in my room,” you mutter more to yourself than him, folding it under your arms. 

The blanket is comfy in your grasp and you’re sure it’s clean, but the fact that you weren’t actually married and in love made its appearance a whole lot worse. 

“So?” his eyes are wide in confusion, “my mom still has my baby blanket too, I’m not gonna shoot anyone because of it.” 

“It’s not my baby blanket,” you admonish, “it’s the baby maker blanket. A weird family tradition when someone gets engaged.”

“Which means?” 

“They’re expecting us to fuck and have children.” 

The thought of procreating and starting a family with you must’ve caused all the champagne to return to his throat, and he looks a little pale. “I think I’m gonna be sick.” he lies back down on your mattress, and you leave him be so you can chuck the blanket back in your parents’ room. 

You’re barely out the door when a young man is waiting out in the hallway for you, poised to knock. “Hey, baby girl.” they throw you an easy lopsided grin, opening their arms to you. 

In your haste, you slam your bedroom door a little too loudly. “Yoongi!” You let yourself sink into his waiting arms, reveling in the familiar embrace you missed so much. Yoongi is Namjoon’s best friend and work buddy, not to mention the man you’ve had a crush on since you were able to walk. While you can safely say at this moment there is nothing serious going on, a small part of you always wishes there could be. 

His voice husks in your ear, “Why are we hugging in between the baby blanket?” 

“Oh!” you brush past him, opening the door to your parents’ room and flinging the offending item as far into their room as possible. “Sorry, Jungkook and I were a little freaked out when we saw it. We’re definitely not thinking about children right now.” 

“Jungkook,” he hums, and your smile falters just a tad when you see the way Yoongi tips his head down in thought, “It was quite the news. Congrats though.” 

You want to say what you’re supposed to say, that yes, you should be happy. But the selfish part of you does not want this exchange between you and Yoongi to be happening. When you get your quickie divorce in a year, the small, hopeful part of you hopes you and Yoongi could be something. 

Before you have a chance to fabricate a response, strong hands encircle your waist, and you feel Jungkook’s chin digging into your shoulder. 

“Thanks, man,” Jungkook’s voice rumbles, “we really appreciate it.” 

Yoongi gives a nod, muttering something about catching up later before he walks back to the party. 

It’s then that Jungkook’s weight feels impossibly heavy on your shoulders. “You know, you’ve been doing a really shitty job of being my wife-to-be ever since we landed,” Jungkook whispers, feather soft lips dusting across the shell of your ear. It’s an act so intimate you can imagine your family passing down the hallway could be mistaking you two for speaking unthinkable acts. A toddler cousin spots you two and giggles, babbling something to your uncle about how you’re hugging. “You did so well when we were with Taeyeon and Big Hit.” 

“It’s not the same when I’m lying to my family,” you turn to face him, equally simmering. “These are people that actually love and care for me, unlike you.” 

“At least I care about what’s most important,” he grits back, “our jobs, our futures. Is that not enough for you to keep it in your pants?” 

“Excuse me? You don’t even know him!” 

“I don’t have to know him because I’m holding you right now and you’re practically sweating through your cardigan.” he grimaces, digging his chin further into your collarbone, literally trying to get under your skin. “Your face looks like a cherry tomato.” 

You turn your head to bite back, your noses touching. The staring contest seems to last for days. Unlike Jungkook who doesn't know how to register basic human emotion, you still have hopes for a life after this. Before you have a chance to answer, your favorite cousin enters the hallway, oblivious to your concerns. Jimin’s red all over, passing you two flutes of blush champagne. “Hurry up, we’re making speeches!” 

Champagne is overflowing like Niagara, and you and Jungkook are the reason for it as you’re thrusted into the living room. Your weird uncle is in the middle of a long-winded speech about his fishing business and how dreams are made from ‘bait and a dream’. You make eye contact with him, and he gestures wildly to you and Jungkook. 

The crowd proceeds to go wild, echoes of speech! Speech! Reverberating throughout your living room. You and Jungkook share uneasy smiles, unsure of where to go with this show. 

Deciding it’s your family by blood, you start first. “Honestly, when I moved to New York I wasn’t expecting to feel so lonely,” you clutch your flute with both hands, swirling your drink absentmindedly. You then turn to Jungkook, giving him a tender smile which he returns back just as fondly. “Until I met Jungkook. I’m really happy that I get to share this week with the people I love the most, so let's drink to family!” 

Jungkook lifts his glass, “Thank you for the warm welcome, I can’t wait to spend time with all of you. This is my first Christmas with a large, loving family. Cheers to that!” 

The room erupts in cheers, allowing themselves to clink glasses and chase down their respective drinks. Even the little ones crowding the kiddie table in the back are enjoying their apple juice while making silly faces at the new couple. 

Jungkook weaves his arm between yours, and you get the signal to do a couples’ drink. He eyes you with mischief, as if to say we did it. After you two take your drink, Jimin’s the first to drunkenly yell, “Ohmygod just kiss already!” 

“Kiss kiss kiss!” 

“This is going on my story so make it good!” 

“Kiss him before I do!” 

“Oh my god,” you groan, throwing your forehead on Jungkook’s chest. Your family really is something else. 

As if the chants can’t get any louder, it’s hard to focus on anything but Jungkook’s presence. Jungkook lifts your chin up, murmuring, “Let’s give the people what they want.” and he presses his lips to yours. 

It’s awkward at first. Why wouldn’t it be, you’re making out with your boss, in front of your family, pretending to be engaged. But Jungkook doesn’t let up, parting your lips slightly to deepen the kiss. As much as you want to make up how terrible and disgusting kissing Jungkook is, it really isn’t. His lips are soft and he tastes like the peach champagne, and his grip on your waist is strong and warm. 

He leaves you breathless when you pull away, a smirk on his lips for a brief moment before he turns shyly to your family who are probably foaming at the mouth now. 

Maybe it’s the champagne coursing through your veins, but why does it suddenly feel so hot in the middle of winter? 

The first day back starts off wholly uneventful, with Jungkook working on some manuscripts and you preparing dinner with Jimin. Most of your family is on the resort hitting the slopes, so you’re quite thankful for the reprieve since the party was so overwhelming. The blonde is all smiles as he bumps the oven closed with his leg, letting your lasagna bake to perfection. 

“I’ve missed you so much,” Jimin rests his head on your shoulder, “it’s definitely not the same when we’re adults. Frankly, it sucks balls.” 

“Big balls,” you agree, gnawing on a leftover baguette from last night. 

“Speaking of big balls,” Jimin wiggles his brows as you attempt to move farther from him.

“Please don’t say it.” 

“C’mon! Just tell me if the sex is good!” 

“No!” you cry, flicking your crumbs at him. 

“I will open this oven,” his hands are already on the handle, “and your dish will undercook.” 

“Don’t you dare!” he opens the oven a tad, and you slam your hand down. “Fine! The sex is fantastic, happy?” 

“Ewh, no!” The storm door swings open, revealing Namjoon, Yoongi, and Lisa, Namjoon’s lady friend. “I didn’t need to hear that, thanks.” 

Your face looks absolutely pained as you watch the two older men walk in. They were the last people you’d ever want to share about your sex life too, even if it is fake. You can only bear to look properly at Lisa as they kick off their boots and shake the snow off their heads. Lisa pokes her tongue in her cheek, looking at you with a wild look in her eyes. “I’ve heard so much about your current drama. Can’t wait to hear the 411 from you, though.” 

Yoongi looks unfazed, then again you never really know what’s going on in his head. “You guys wanna go to a movie tonight?” Yoongi asks, grabbing a slice of the baguette and dipping it in a dish of olive oil. “I think the one that’s showing is based on a book your company published.”

“Is it ‘Rotten Love’?” 

“That’s the one.” 

Pushing yourself off the counter, you nod eagerly. “I’ll go tell Jungkook to get ready. We can eat dinner real quick and then go right after,” you grab a bottle of water from the fridge, “Joonie, set up the table please.” 

Jungkook doesn’t notice you walk in, and you can hear the faint sound of Muse blasting from his Airpods. He’s on your floor, doing pushups while reading a transcript under him. This time he’s using your iPad, every few seconds taking a thumb to scroll down. Sweating through his shirt, you can see the beads running along his silver reading glasses. It’s completely contradictory, your muscle bunny of a boss getting in his reps while psychoanalyzing a potential novel, but somehow it works with him. 

“Maniac,” you mutter, bending down to place the cool water bottle on his cheek. He stops abruptly, like you’ve pressed the pause button on his seemingly robotic arms. Seriously, you can’t fathom how he manages to do both. You swipe the iPad under his body in place of a white towel, which he accepts gratefully. This isn’t the first time you’ve had to snap him out of it, sometimes you’d catch him at the company gym nearing 10PM, reading on the treadmill. 

“What time is it?” he asks, fluting the water bottle down his throat. 

Ignoring the way his neck glistens in sweat, you say, “It’s almost seven. C’mon, we’re gonna eat dinner and watch a movie. You’ve cooped yourself up in this room all day, time to interact with the world.” 

“What movie?” 

“The book we published in 2018, ‘Rotten Love’? They made it into a movie,” and you can’t help the wry grin that takes over your face when you say your next words, “guess who directed it.” 

He sighs, rubbing the towel over his damp hair. The normally styled strands fall limply at his forehead. “I don’t remember, I shifted over that project to PR. Any director’s fine, but please please please don’t let it be—”

“Jung Hoseok!”

“Son of a bitch, we gotta go.” And it’s the first time in a while you see a genuine smile graze his features, one not laced with you and your marriage. It’s an old pastime for you both to get picky over Jung’s work. “I swear, he better not put his scenes all over the place like last time, I got whiplash.” 

After a quick dinner you all pile into Namjoon’s minivan, making your way to the theatre. The drive is fast, and before you know it you’re waiting in line to get inside. It seems that the PR between the film studio and Big Hit did a good job assisting, because there’s a sizable line despite being half an hour early. 

“So honey,” Lisa leans into you, squishing you further into Jungkook’s shoulder. “Did you like, help out with the publishing of this novel? To be honest I don’t even know what your job is,” Lisa admits with a shrug, “you’re not a glorified coffee girl, are you?” 

“No,” her mixed enthusiasm never fails to stump you, “Ah, but I really didn’t do much in the production of ‘Rotten Love’,” you reply easily, relaxing into Jungkook as he moves to drape an arm around your shoulder. “I just told my boss to sign some documents n’stuff. It’s really nothing—”

“Babe, are you kidding? You ran the whole freakin’ project!” and you’re in shock, because for the first time in the history of ever, Jeon Jungkook is paying you a real compliment. “It was her first assignment when she got hired as the big boss’ assistant. A lot of people in the office doubted her,” he squeezes your shoulder, “but not for one second did I doubt her, you could see how hard she worked to make it perfect. I heard the boss was really impressed, too.” 

You remember that period of time. Jungkook made you dive headfirst into the publishing for ‘Rotten Love’, letting you sink or swim in his decision for keeping you employed. After a full month of meetings, negotiations, and debating whether you should have caffeine IV’ed in your body to save time on eating, you got Jungkook’s evaluation. You remember the stoicism in Jungkook’s frame as he surmised your work, throwing you a flippant “it’s decent” before sending you off to do more work. 

Relief flooded your system after those two simple words, because that meant you had a chance and you could keep your job. But this? If what he’s saying is true, you’re on Cloud 9. 

“Awh, thanks Kook.” you squeeze his arm, letting your fingers trail down to lace your fingers with his. 

Lisa’s face is all scrunched, and she doesn’t hesitate to stretch over you to smush Jungkook’s cheek between her two fingers. Her blue nails dig into his soft skin. “I like him, honey. Keep him, he’s so cute.” 

She leaves you alone after that, skipping over to bother Namjoon about buying an extra bucket of popcorn. 

“At first I was nervous having you near my family for a week,” you say brightly, rubbing a thumb over his hand, “but I kinda like seeing you try so hard to not rip other people’s heads off.” 

He puffs out his cheeks in an attempt to soothe the stinging. “Could be worse, I could be engaged to Karen.” 

With that you laugh, loud enough to turn heads and have Jimin and Lisa send you adoring looks. Jungkook sends you a nervous smile, the one that he’d always send you during team meetings when he was unsure of how to respond to something. Instead of giving him a smart answer, you get on your tiptoes to pat his reddened cheek. “But she’s right, you are kinda cute when you wanna be.” 

Instead of replying, he squeezes your hand tighter to lead you inside. 

Everything is smooth sailing after that. You, Jimin and Yoongi are saving the seats while Jungkook, Lisa and Namjoon are getting the refreshments. Jimin is prattling on about a new job interview and you’re listening attentively, while Yoongi shoots off advice every time Jimin says he’s nervous. 

Yoongi looks past Jimin to give you that gummy smile that always made your chest ache. “Chim, remember when she applied to work at Jamba Juice?” 

“Oh my god,” Jimin giggles, clutching your arm. “When you had to do a trial run in front of the manager? You forgot to put the lid on the blender and you sprayed the staff with green juice?” 

“The stains took forever to get out,” you pouted. “And I didn’t appreciate the snaps you saved of me. I got nervous because you were recording me!” 

“Am I hearing some juicy details about your childhood?” Jungkook appears, passing a huge tub of buttery popcorn to Yoongi. 

“Emphasis on juice,” Yoongi says tartly, popping a handful of kernels in his mouth. 

“Yes, do you wanna see a picture of your fiancé covered in green juice? She wore a low-cut shirt that day so it got deep, man.” Jimin says, using his hands to gesture obscenely to his own chest. 

You’re mortified, and you push down Jimin’s phone and cover whatever receipts he has on you. “Jimin, I’d like to stay engaged, if you don’t mind?” 

Your not-so-favorite cousin cackles in response, telling Jungkook that they’ll talk later. 

“Here,” Jungkook cooly hands you a King-Sized KitKat. 

“Awh,” you marvel, immediately opening the wrapper, “you actually read my notes and found out what my favorite candy was?” 

He scoffs, dark bangs blowing up. “Who doesn’t like KitKats?” but you’re giving him the look, and he sighs, “C’mon babe, just gimmie a break.” 

“Ha-ha,” but you break off a piece anyway, lifting it to Jungkook’s lips. It’s then that the theatre starts to dim, and the telltale signs of the movie begin. “Ready to rip Jung Hoseok to shreds?” 

“Always.” 

Barely fifteen minutes pass and Jungkook is spreading his legs. You’re about to kick him before he leans in to whisper, “They made Renee too dull,” he sighs in disappointment, as if he sincerely had high hopes they’d bring the novel to justice. “I mean, I get it, in the novel she’s supposed to be a plain Jane. But she isn’t grey.” 

“Right?” you lean into Jungkook, throwing your legs over his thighs like you’re back at the airport. This isn’t out of intimacy, you think to yourself, you just need to be close enough to Jungkook so you don’t disturb the other patrons with your talking. “She’s either a bad actress or they messed up her character. I really got upset when I read this part, but it’s kinda bland on the screen.” 

As much as you love Jimin, you know he’s not going to get your over-criticality over the media. Yoongi and Namjoon are on the other end of the row, but they wouldn’t be too pleased having you gab over the movie because you’re too much of an aficionado. Jungkook is the only one who can tête-à-tête, or in this case, Kit-a-Kat with you. 

You sigh into his shoulder, inhaling his clean scent. “Let’s pray Jung didn’t completely butcher the chapter where Kenzo reflects on his penniless journey.” 

“I’ll leave the theatre right then and there if that happens, care to join me?” 

“Already out the door, bossman.” 

Jungkook looks away from the screen briefly, reaching forward to take an obnoxiously big bite of the KitKat in your hand. You stifle a giggle, and before you can soak up his cheeky grin he’s already looking back at the movie. 

You wonder what Jungkook is like outside of work, if he has that side to him. A little part of you wishes that this playfulness he’s exuding is real. Not to your fake marriage, but a playfulness he can execute to a person that he really likes. Two days out of the office and you’re starting to see that Jungkook has the capabilities to enjoy life, however simple it may be. 

The movie is finished in a blur, and you and Jungkook are still bickering over the intricacies of the film compared to the novel. The night air is cold and burns your cheeks, reminding you exactly how late you’ve been out.

“Well, I thought the romance was so boring!” Lisa blurted, wanting an in. Her lime green ski jacket glares in your vision, and you move away from her immediately. “No one cheated on each other, there was no drama, or evil best friend!” 

“Whoa there,” and you see the little fire in Jungkook’s eyes, one you’ve learned early on to stay away from when you spent hours in his office debating over manuscripts and plotlines. He stares down at Lisa, really stares down. “You think every romance needs some sort of internalized conflict for it to be good? Why can’t they just grow and learn from the external conflict together? It’s literally useless for them to break up over and over just—”

And that’s your cue to walk ahead of them, because while you did agree with Jungkook, you’ve heard this debate one too many times. Ever the closet-romantic at heart. You hope Lisa doesn’t lose her patience and punch him out. 

“Hey,” you feel a hand pat your hair, and you look up at Yoongi. He looks absolutely fluffy in his long puffy jacket, and he matches your steps with his. “Do I look ugly tonight, or something? I feel like we barely exchanged two sentences with each other.” 

“What, never!” you chastise, “you always look good, Yoongi. And we have the whole week to catch up, remember?”

“Really, then why don’t we go out in two days to pick out a tree for your house? Joon and I are planning on going.” 

“I would love to go pick a tree!” you exclaim, “the last time we got a tree together was when your brother had to lift.” 

“Great,” and he pats your head again, but this time his hand lingers to finger the ringlets of your hair. “It’ll be just like old times, baby girl. I’ll pick you up at 9.” 

Unbeknownst to the both of you, Jungkook’s argument ended minutes ago and he’s mulling over a new type of internal conflict. 

“Owie, ow, ow—fuck you! Ow!” 

“Well if you just hold still,” Jungkook grimaces, taking his turns with both hands to simultaneously wipe the injury with a cloth and then pressing the affected area with an ice bag. 

“Buh ih hurths!” your voice is muffled by the cloth, stained red with freshly bloomed blood. 

The ski lodge started off great. You enjoyed a fabulous beligan waffle breakfast courtesy of Jimin’s parents, and then made the trek to the slopes. You’ve been here dozens of times, so you didn’t feel an inclination to gravitate to any of the fancy schmancy sports. You were fine playing shuffleboard inside, but your inner youth complained that it’s the holidays and you should be getting out more.

Jimin and Jungkook (who claimed he hasn't snowboarded since he was 16 yet he’s doing tricks like a goddamn Olympian) were shredding on the slopes while Namjoon and Lisa were skiing on a smaller hill. You and Yoongi watched safely from the lift, riding it like a kiddie attraction. You must’ve taken the lift at least ten times, complaining about how you’re both too lazy to function and you could really use a hot chocolate and a fireplace. 

After the fifteenth time on the lift, legs numb, you stumble over with heavy boots to where Lisa and Namjoon were waiting for Jimin and Jungkook. They wanted to walk around more and see if they could try a more difficult slope. 

While you were waiting, you had to admit that Jungkook did kind of cool all decked out in his gear. A competitive, playful smile was easily reflected in his gaze despite his helmet and goggles. 

That slight admiration is knocked right off your feet when Jungkook speeds by way too close for comfort and you’re in his path. Jimin had already slowed next to your friends and family, looking at you in anticipated horror.

It’s far too late, and despite the fact that Jungkook manages to pull your body to his while you wipe out, your face crashes into his helmet and you taste metal. 

Mildly disoriented from the impact, Jungkook’s muffled string of curses nurse you back to a decent consciousness as he tries to carry you to the lodge.

“Holy shit, I got that on camera!” Jimin cries, gesturing to the Go-Pro nestled in his helmet. 

So now you’re in pain and it’s all Jungkook’s fault. Your bottom lip is split, and the burn on your face won’t go away. 

You watch as Jungkook dotes on you, his bangs pushed up everywhere due to his grey goggles haphazardly being propped upon his forehead. His pink tongue sticks out as he concentrates on not getting blood on your sweater. It’s just you and him that are stuck around in the lodge after you got pummeled, standing by the fire while everyone else continues on with the fun. 

“Why were you over there anyway, in the middle of the slope?” he scolds. 

“It was the slow down zone, Jeon. You were the only one not slowing down, you speed demon.” 

“Sorry,” he says gruffly, pressing a little too hard with the ice and you wince. He lets up and presses the cloth to your lips to soak up the moisture.

“Did you say something?” 

“I said, I’m sorry.” 

You sigh dramatically, “I wish I had a camera to save that shitty excuse of an apology.” 

“Speaking of cameras,” he shucks his phone out of his pocket, handing it to you. “Jimin uploaded the video.” 

That man, you don’t know where he has the means to quickly upload and edit things, but if it’s for the ‘Gram, it’s worth it to Jimin. You open Instagram and immediately click on @chimmyboi’s story, immediately wincing as the first few seconds reveal the brunt of the impact. He should really put a disclaimer before uploading content. 

The tumble between you and Jungkook doesn’t look so bad, but it’s when you get up does it look gnarly. Your chin is dribbling in red liquid, and Jungkook’s throwing off his helmet and goggles in a panic. 

He makes a half-assed snowball where you’re lying on the ground, pressing it against your mouth. With his other hand he pulls you into a sitting position, not caring that you’re staining his clothes as he hauls you on his body. 

“Ohmygod,” you splutter, trying not to move your lips, “I look like I got decked with a hockey puck.” 

“It wasn’t that bad, don’t be a baby.” Jungkook sees the piecing glare you give him, and he sighs. “Okay, it looked pretty bad. I was a little worried back there, but now the bleeding pretty much stopped and holy shit—stop smiling! You’re making it open up further!” 

“You were worried?” 

“Shut up.” 

The ice bag is watery and not doing much anymore, but Jungkook still insists to cool your face down. You lift a hand to his cold ones, attempting to take the bag and cloth from his grasp. 

“You should go board with Jimin and the rest of them. I can take care of this.” 

“It’s fine,” he reasons, reaching for the ice bag but you hold on tighter. 

“C’mon, I know the only thing you were looking forward to this entire trip was going snowboarding. I’m a big girl, I can be alone for an hour or two.” 

Jungkook locks his jaw, gnawing at his cheek as he mulls on his decision. “Wouldn’t I look like a bad partner if I leave you?”

“Nah, this has happened before. Almost always someone gets injured on the trip. Last time something like this happened I was eight and I got five stitches on my leg. This is nothing. You’re fine.” 

“But still.” 

“Fine, you wanna make it up to me?” 

You scan the room for any ideas, and it settles on a trio of girls huddled by the register of the built-in café. They’re pretty snow bunnies, decked out in sweater dresses and fur lined boots. They remind you a little of The Powerpuff Girls, all in pastels and attached to the hip. Their gaze has taken hostage in Jungkook’s frame, blatantly ignoring the fact that majority of his attention is directed towards you. You wonder why you haven’t noticed them sooner, because now the staring is getting borderline discomforting. 

Slipping off his goggles with your free hand, you gesture subtly to the girls. “They think you’re hot. Go flirt with them a little and get me a free drink, I’m sure they’ll pay for you.” 

He doesn’t understand the correlation, “Why would I do that?” 

You shrug, separating the strands of hair that stick to his forehead. “Lisa and Namjoon do it all the time when they go clubbing. They compete and pretend they’re single for like two hours, and then they keep a tally of how many people offer to buy them a drink.” 

“That is completely different, but I’m open to trying it when we get back to the city.” he acknowledged briefly, getting up from his crouching position. “I got a better idea.” 

Puzzled, you watch him saunter over to the register. Like bees to the honey, the girls follow Jungkook with their eyes, watching him exaggeratedly mull over the menu. 

He spares the slightest of head inclinations to the drooling trio, “Hello ladies.” The smile is not flirtatious, but kind. 

You suppress a giggle, burying your chin in your scarf as you watch the whole interaction. You don’t even know why you asked Jungkook if he would flirt with those girls, as he kept most of his dates private over the years. You picture a college-aged Jungkook getting his daily breakfast on his way to class, ignoring the way his presence attracts heads. 

The barista hands Jungkook a tray filled with a plastic cup of ice, and a cup filled with something hot, and a chocolate croissant. He grabs a straw from a tray, stabbing it in the hot drink’s lid. 

“Excuse me,” one of the girls coquettishly puts her hands behind her back, puffing her chest out as she leans over Jungkook’s order. “The regular croissants actually taste better in my opinion.” 

“Well my wife’s had a hard day, so I think she deserves something sweet.” 

He doesn’t even turn around as he makes a beeline to where you’re seated on a loveseat, carefully placing the tray on the coffee table. 

“Your better idea was making them jealous?” you ask, unsure of his intentions. 

He shrugs, “College-Jungkook always wanted to show off his girlfriend like that, so indulge me for a second, alright?”

Rolling your eyes you reply, “My life is about indulging you. Don’t forget the trips I’ve made to the grocery store when your personal fridge was out of banana—”

“I thought I said we don’t speak of those hard times,” he cuts you off, “ever.”  

You stop him from filling up your ice bag with the ice he brought. “C’mon Jeon, you’re burning daylight out there. I got this. You’ve stalled enough, go have fun in the snow with Jimin, you adrenaline junkie.” 

He scrunches his nose, but relents when you throw him his jacket and goggles. Before he pulls on his gloves, he cups your face with both hands to pull you in a kiss. His hands are cold from the ice, gluing you in place in fear of him kissing you too hard. But it’s barely that, a brushing of lips so tender as he takes extra care with your open lip. 

“Is this also a self-indulgent request?” you pucker, “who knew there was a hormonal teenager under that editor-in-chief’s body.” 

His eyes flicker to the audience in the back, and you don’t need to look behind you to note that they’re glaring daggers in your head. It’s like you’re straight out of a rom-com. 

“You’re leaving me to the bunnies,” you say teasingly. 

“Then hurry up and get better so you can join us,” he taunts, “or else you can’t help me bury Jimin in the snow.” 

It’s a tempting offer that makes you down your drink so you can enjoy the rest of your day. 

Light seeps through your windows, rays kissing your eyelashes and willing them to open. You groan, hand splaying out to wake up Jungkook. When you find his space empty and cool, you sit up and search for your fake-fiancé. 

He’s on the floor, smack in the middle of his morning workout. Your iPad is under his body, and somehow he’s managed to find a setting where the document scrolls for him automatically. He’s not wearing his Airpods, so you rasp, “Jeon, you’re crazy. I get the morning workout, but you don’t have to look over any more transcripts. I think you’ve read enough for this week.” 

“It helps me ignore the burn,” he says shortly, and you see the ripples of his back flex with every push-up. “And I wouldn’t have to do so much reading if my assistant would just do her job.” 

“I already told you, I’m not working during my vacation.” you throw off the sheets, padding to your closet. “I’m going to pick the tree today. You should go to the mall with my mom and Jimin to pick out some new ornaments.” 

“What?” he gets up, and you ignore the perfect view of tight muscles decorating his abs. Exactly how long was he awake for to have sweat clinging to his shirt? You’re going to short-circuit and it’s barely 8:30. “But I wanna go help pick out the tree.” 

“You don’t have to do that, Joon and Yoongi got it.” 

“Yoongi, really? You think he can carry a tree?” 

“This isn’t a pissing contest, Jeon.” you settle on a burgundy Patagonia jacket and grey leggings. “Besides, Yoongi and I are just friends.”

“You sure about that, baby girl?” 

You whip around to poke at his chest, and you ignore how smug he looks. “Do not test me, Jeon. Like you said, I’m with you every step of the way in this marriage. I’m not going to jeopardize that over some childhood crush.” 

“Wow, your life is really turning into a Wattpad entry,” he admonishes, “fake-fiancé still pining over his older brother’s best friend, really high-qual stuff.” 

“I’m serious.” you grit, “I took a week off so I can get away from you and that was ruined, so I would like a little bit of space today.” 

And that gets Jungkook to back away. His face deflates a little, and you feel a little guilty for making him upset, but you stab that thought down and convince yourself that he deserves it. It’s not like he cares about you, he just wants to show off to the boys.

“Fine,” he turns around to put on a fresh shirt, and you almost notice the pout marrying his face. “You could’ve just told me you wanted space. I’m getting kind of tired of you too, you know.” 

He flops on the bed and you huff in reply, quickly throwing on your attire inside your closet while he watches a YouTube video. You check your phone, and at 8:59 a knock is at your door. Jungkook doesn’t bother to get up to answer, and you open the door to see a sleepy Yoongi with a paper cup in his hand. 

“An English breakfast with two sugars and a dash of milk, baby girl.” 

You mask your wince at the pet name. It hadn’t bothered you when you were young, but its starting to feel coddling now that Jungkook is making you hyper-aware of the attention. “Perfect,” you faux-beam, the hot beverage warm your fingers. 

“I’ll just warm up the car and—”

“Babeeeeee,”  the deepest, sexiest voice echoes from your bed and out in the hallway. He sounds absolutely tempting, and needy. You freeze at the way your boss can so easily pretend he’s exhausted and wanting you, “come back to bedddddd. I’m not done with you yet.” 

Yoongi’s ears are red, “Aaand, I’ll let you finish whatever business you have.” 

The older man bolts out of there, and you snap your head back to look at an innocent Jungkook. He tilts his head at your bout of anger. 

“You know, I have half a mind to fling this tea down your shirt.” 

“What?” he looks at you like a child caught with a hand in the cookie jar. “He can’t be the only one who can call you baby.” 

Honestly, you didn’t mean to lash out on Jungkook like that. You did need to put up a face as you were each other's significant others, but it doesn’t mean you have to be together all the time. To top it all off you’ve been feeling weird as of late, and you can only attribute these terrible feelings to a certain brunet who’s been sleeping in your bed. 

But you pin these feelings for another time, because you need to enjoy what little quality time you have with your brother. 

“Hey, whaddya think of this one?” It's just you and Namjoon picking the tree, and Yoongi’s sitting in the cabin keeping warm. He said to call him once you’ve decided, since it is your house. 

“Hm, it’s fine.” you shrug, inhaling the pine. “Maybe a little too tall.” 

Namjoon nods, and you follow him to the next row of greenery. He’s been pensive this whole time, and you have a feeling he’s hiding something. Surrounded by pine and the fresh winter air he says, “Hey, I just wanna say sorry.” 

“Why, did you like that tree over there? I don’t mind it, we can go back!” 

“What, no? I’m sorry for being weird around Jungkook.” 

“Huh?” sure, you noticed the weird language and terseness he gave Jungkook initially, but you chalked it out as big brother issues. 

You two continue to walk around the forest aimlessly, not really tree hunting. 

“I was just upset that the engagement was so sudden,” Namjoon starts, and you feel the guilt start to set camp in your stomach. “And I don’t know, at first he just didn’t seem like your type? I always thought you wanted to date someone gentle, someone you could hold and depend on. He looked so serious, and maybe a little immature.”

“He is a little immature,” you agree softly, digging your boots in the snow, “but I don’t love him any less because of it. We’re growing together.” Shit, why was that so easy for you to say? 

“Figured,” and Namjoon stops to place a hand on your shoulder, “I see the way he looks at you, and you can’t fake love like that.” 

Namjoon’s admonition is so convincing that you almost convince yourself that it is something. 

Something is bothering Jungkook, and he doesn’t know why. 

It’s not the billions of charges he made on his credit card for new ornaments, because it simultaneously inflated his ego and impressed your mom. 

It’s not the way Jimin hangs onto his every word and doesn’t let up, because it is refreshing to have your cousin find a genuine interest in him. 

Jungkook, Jimin and your mom have been taking laps around the mall for the past hour. They’ve floated around here and there, picking out whatever catches their eye for the tree. 

Jimin’s in the middle of explaining the Jamba Juice story when a glimmering window display catches his eye. 

“Hun, have you not bought her a present yet?” your mom says over his shoulder. 

“No,” he exhales, embarrassed that he just admitted he didn’t think of getting you anything in front of your mom. “She doesn’t ask for anything, really.” Besides her book published, a raise, and a potential promotion as editor, but they didn’t need to know that much. 

“Good thing you’re with the right people!” Jimin cheers, ushering him into the jewelry store. 

Funny enough, he knows exactly what to get you. Once he points it out, Jimin and your mom “ooh” and “aah” respectively, agreeing that what he chose was perfect. If you had asked Jungkook a week ago what kind of jewlery you like, he’d give you a dumb look and say “something shiny.” But that’s what’s bothering him. He just walked right into the store, saw what was right, and everything just clicked. 

Jungkook pins that thought for later, because once their shopping is done they’re back at your villa, arranging the ornaments and detangling the lights that have been holed up in the closet for eleven months. 

Jimin and he are sitting on the living room floor, stabbing thread through popcorn. He really only saw this craft in the movies, and the small part of him is amazed that you and your family go through the hard work to make your holidays so warm. 

Your mom appears from her bedroom, clutching something in her hand. She sits in front of Jungkook, a huge smile on her face. 

“Before you say anything,” and it strikes him how similar you are to your mother. There’s that tone he always receives before he gets new news, or the way you’re eager to share something that will make him happy. “I don’t want you to think this is a luxurious gift or anything. But I realized that you don’t have a wedding band so I went through my old cases and found this.” 

She opens her palm slowly, revealing a simple black band. 

Jungkook’s lips part to form words, but his vocal cords betray him. At first glance, this ring could’ve been mistaken for one of Jimin’s plentiful rings adorning his fingers. Upon closer inspection however, Jungkook notes that this band is thinner and more worn. The metal looks strong and old, the slight scratches and faded color revealing that it was a well-loved piece of jewelry. 

Your mom is offering Jungkook a wedding band. 

“If you don’t like it, that’s okay!” your mom says quickly, nerves radiating because of Jungkook’s silence. “It was my grandfather’s. Don’t feel as if you have to accept it. It’s not a wedding band persay, but I think it matches and it looks about your size and we didn’t get you a Christmas gift so—”

“It’s perfect.” Jungkook tells her firmly, sending him a tight-lipped smile. “Thank you, I guess we kind of rushed the engagement so I didn’t think of getting a band of my own.” 

Your mother is grateful, dropping the ring in Jungkook’s awaiting palm. “I think my daughter should be the one who puts it on you, don’t you think?” 

“Right,” he echoes, and he just stares at the ring in his hand, feeling weird in his chest. He can’t remember the last time someone put this much thought in getting him something this significant. He can’t accept this ring, but he can’t refuse it either. “I could never find something with this much value from a little shop in New York, so thank you.” 

“Oh, and while we’re on the topic of New York,” Jimin puts down his completed popcorn wreath, “y/n said she already put in her off days for Easter, so you should too. It’ll be at my place this year, and I live by an indoor skydiving zone. She mentioned you’re an adrenaline junkie.” 

“She also mentioned that your birthday’s in September.” your mom pops in, “We were thinking we could take Friday off and stop by for the weekend. I’ve always wanted to see Hamilton!” 

Jungkook knows they’re trying to cheer him up. They’re trying to make him feel part of the family, feel wanted. But he can’t remember the last time he’s felt wanted unless it’s for a book deal or a business exchange. It’s been so long since he’s felt this warm, and he didn’t realize how much he yearned for it until he proposed to you.

“Hey man,” Jimin puts an arm around his trembling shoulders, “are you alright?” 

“Fine,” he’s crying, and doing a shit job at hiding the tears. “It’s alright, I just,” he can’t even find the strength to get up and walk away from this. Is it pathetic that he’s breaking down in the comfort of your cousin and mom, starved for affection? “I just, I miss my family. It’s just the four of us, but they’re all the way in Korea and it’s been awhile since I’ve really celebrated anything with them. They visit sometimes but it’s not the same, y’know? And work is so stressful but I’m not in a position to say that. And your family is just so, so nice and it makes me miss them even more. You’re all so lucky to support each other like this.” 

Jimin and your mom sandwich him like an Oreo. It’s almost funny, how two smaller humans are comforting this big human and not the other way around. “Poor baby, it’s your family too.” 

Pathetic. It’s pathetic how much he wishes to have a family like yours, but he can’t have that. 

“Can we please not tell y/n about this?” Jungkook wishes, leaning his head on your mom’s. “She’s going through a lot right now with work and stuff, I’d rather just talk to her about this after the holidays, if that’s okay.” 

“It’s quite alright, sweetheart,” your mom runs a hand through his hair, and his eyes automatically flutter closed, “just remember, your feelings matter too, okay?” 

You and Jungkook slip into bed at the same time, murmuring half-hearted “how was your days” and brief descriptions of your outings. It’s a little awkward considering the morning’s events, but not unbearable. 

“The tree smells really nice,” Jungkook tries, looking up from his phone. 

“Yeah, makes the whole room smell like Christmas.” 

“Yeah.”

“Did you have a good time shopping, find anything good?” 

“Yeah.”

“That’s nice.” 

[11:29] Jimin: hey, you know my room’s right next to yours right? 

[11:29] Jimin: we share a goddamn wall and im NOT hearing shit

[11:29] Jimin: are you putting that baby blanket to good use ;)

[11:30] You: YOU”REE DISGUSTING are we even family!!!!  Can i disown a first cousin?? 

[11:30] Jimin: i’m just sayin.. U said it was fantastic

You throw your phone away, letting it slide off to the mattress and onto the baby blanket. Yes, the baby blanket is unfortunately here to stay. Over the course of three days, the quilt is like a ball in a tennis match between you and your mother. You’ve given up and just kept it on the floor. 

“I have a question,” you say aloud, motioning to your bed partner. 

“Shoot.” 

“Was it true when you said I was the only girl you knew well enough to be your wife?”

“Of course, that’s why we’re here.” 

“I’m just wondering, because I really thought you could pick any girl in the office to be yours.” you stuff your hands under the covers, playing with your ring. “I mean, you’re kinda-sorta handsome. You could’ve picked someone just as pretty and they would have studied your whole life story for you.” 

Jungkook's phone falls in his lap, and he looks at you like you’ve lost a couple brain cells. “Normally, I would eat up the fact that you admitted I was attractive. But do you realize you’re just as beautiful, if not more?” 

What? 

“I know it’s unprofessional, but how professional can we get when we’re married, but you’re the whole package, y/n.” and he says it with such fervor, you can’t formulate a response. “I wouldn’t have wanted anyone else. No one else can take my shit and throw it right back in my face, or debate with me for hours on end about a novel’s direction. Only you can do that.” 

“I’m sorry,” you shake your head, “thanks, you’re right. I’m just clouded, and stressed. And Jimin’s being an ass and it’s really bothering me.” 

His chocolate eyes flicker in the darkness of your bedroom, making note of your phone on the floor. “What’d he say?” 

“It’s stupid, he said that he thinks it’s weird he hasn’t heard us bang all week,” you force a laugh, “it’s my fault though, he wouldn’t get off my back so I gave up and told him the sex was fantastic.” 

“Are you worried he’s unconvinced?” 

“A little, maybe? I don’t know.” you’re wrinkling your bedsheets now, turning the cotton into putty as your sweaty palms wring at the edge. 

“I don’t mind giving him a show.” Jungkook blurts, and you instinctively pull the covers closer to your chest, even though you’re fully clothed. 

“What, like fake moan into the wall?” 

“There are things you can do over the clothes,” he says matter-of-factly, pulling the sheet of his bedside down slightly. “And you just said you’re stressed. I’d be a bad fiancé to not let you relieve some of that tension.” 

Jungkook opens his arms and gestures for you to get on his lap. Your body is hot all over, and you can’t tell if it’s because you’re horrified or aroused. Maybe a little of both. 

“Are you kidding—you’re my boss!” 

“And we’re consenting adults!” he narrows his eyes at you, “don’t say you’ve never thought about it before.”

And the sick, twisted part of you has, a lot. There’s something about a man in a tailored suit and owning up to its power that’s really attractive. Not to mention all those times they’d be traveling for work, stumbling for a quick McDonald's bite at 12AM and he’d be dressed casually in tight black jeans and combat boots. The energy really kept you on your toes. 

“Wow, I really hate late-night talks. All the secrets come out, don’t they?” 

“If it makes you feel better, your ass looks great in pencil skirts,” you turn to him with flared eyes, “what? I’m just trying to let you know I mayhaps find you attractive.” 

“Mayhaps you should stop talking before I regret this.” 

His eyebrows lift and disappear from his bangs, the hair freshly dried and fluffy from his late night shower. He then pats his lap with a little blasé as if to say “hop on”, and you ignore the way how good the seat looks, his boxer briefs doing nothing to hide his unmentionables. 

Trying to fight alongside your last drop of dignity, you take your time. 

“C’mon y/n, don’t make it weird.” 

“It’s been weird, Jeon! Jimin’s next door!” you hiss, backing away slightly, “Give me some time, I can’t just hump my boss!” 

“You’re not humping your boss.” Jungkook has the audacity to grin, the expression looking absolutely sinful in the moonlight. “Think of it as your lover wanting to make you feel good.” 

The bridge between love and hatred is a fine, fine line stemmed by passion. 

Careful, you lift your blankets up and slip out of them, moving to sit up. It’s ridiculous, tiptoeing around your bed to avoid any sudden creaks in the aged wood of your mahogany headboard. 

“We’re out to prove to your family we fuck on the reg,” Jungkook snips, “you can make noise.” 

Within seconds, he’s hauling you on his lap. You squeak in surprise, feeling the thin material of his boxers seep through your thin silk shorts. You wriggle around, monitoring Jungkook’s expression. He does not allude too much, but you take note of the way Jungkook secures you with his hands between the swells of your thighs. 

“I’m not a rollercoaster, stop adjusting like you’re gonna buckle up.” 

Jungkook’s dry humor lightens the mood considerably, and you can’t help but smile timidly at his attempt to make you feel at ease. He lets you take your time, and you never imagined someone so demanding in the office can be so… kind in bed. 

You dip forward to kiss his lips once, twice. He looks needy, but lets you set the pace. You appreciate that. You’re salivating at his willingness to make you feel good, and you whimper as he nibbles on a sensitive spot on your neck. 

You need more. Sensing your urgency when you jerk his chin up, he muffles your sounds with a harsh kiss, taking care to moan deeply into your mouth. The heat is luxurious on this winter night, burgundy kisses exchanged between the sheets like secrets. His tongue slips between your teeth, tasting every inch of you and exploring you like the deepest texts. 

He pulls away slightly, and you’re drowning in his gaze. “Am I still just kinda-sorta handsome now?” he nips at your neck, sucking on a spot between your jaw. 

“N-no,” and you pull him up by the chin, taking in his messy hair and glazed eyes, “you’re fucking sexy,” and you tug your mouth to his once more. 

You don’t even realize that you’re rolling your hips until Jungkook breaks the kiss in favor of grabbing your hips, making sure your core is nestled perfectly between his hardening length. It doesn’t take long for the both of you to get wet, and the silk glides easily between your thighs like butter.

“That’s it, baby girl,” he encourages, one hand reaching up to cup your breast, “use me, make  yourself feel good.” 

“Please, don’t call me that,” you whine against his mouth, trying to keep the mood in, “Babe is fine, but baby girl makes me feel like a little kid and I’m not a little kid.”

“You damn right,” and he lifts his hips to meet yours in a sharp thrust, and you gasp hotly into his mouth. It’s too late to muffle your moans, not when you’re drenched with two pathetic pieces of fabric stopping the both of you. “You’re a gorgeous, intelligent, strong, amazing woman.” 

With every compliment, he does all the work, thrusting with each adjective like he’s blessing poetry into your body. 

“J-Jungkook,” the name is muffled against his shoulder, too fuzzed in ecstasy to be embarrassed by the drool coating his tank top. His hair tickles your shoulder as he nips at your clothed breasts, swirling around your nipple. “I-I, m’gonna come,” 

“You’re almost there huh?” and he slips a hand between you two to find that sweet spot, swirling designs between your shorts. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

And you’re shaking, collapsing into his embrace as he rides out your high. He cradles one hand in your hair as you rub furiously against his other, chasing your pleasure like a starved animal. 

“K-Kook,” you murmur into his neck, finding the strength to roll your hips one more time to check. “You’re still hard, do you want me to help?”

“No.” he’s forthright, and as tired as you are, you force yourself to pick your head up. Sweat lines his brow and his face is flushed, but he’s already helping you off and handing you a tissue from the nightstand. 

“What?” you’re hurt, and don’t want to admit why. 

“Don’t feel like you need to,” he grunts into your forehead, dipping a chaste kiss right in the center. “Just let me do something nice to you for once.” 

As much as you want to, you don’t complain as he tucks you in. You don’t complain when you see a wet stain on his Kirby boxer briefs. You don’t answer back when he checks his phone one more time and pulls you in to press a kiss to your cheek. It’s 12:31. 

“Merry Christmas,” he murmurs into your skin, and turns over so his back faces you. 

Christmas is a loud and eager affair. The entirety of your family piles into your house while still in pajamas, aunts and uncles from other villas running in with their children with their newly opened toys and gadgets. There’s a buffet style breakfast piled on the kitchen island, and you’re all eating in the living room while watching holiday movies. 

Jungkook melds right in, unsurprisingly. He has your baby cousin Dante in his lap, teaching him how to use the controls of his new Nintendo Switch. 

Despite only meeting Jungkook a few days ago, you notice that some of your family have taken the liberty of giving him small presents. You spot a simple silver chain around his wrist, courtesy of Jimin, and a fluffy grey scarf wrapped around his neck, courtesy of your aunt’s impeccable knitting club. 

“He fits right in, doesn’t he?” 

Yoongi hands you your usual cup of tea, and you accept it gratefully. You’re sitting right next to the tree, and you notice that some of the ornaments are miniature books. You absentmindedly run your fingers over the carved wood, especially on the ones that are your favorite titles. 

“Yeah,” you hate to admit, so you whisper it into your mug. But Yoongi can hear, he always does. “I didn’t think it would be this easy.” 

“Easy to love him, or easy to fit into this family?” 

You splutter into your mug, and Yoongi does the right thing by patting your back. It feels a little bit like he’s burping a baby, but otherwise, it soothes your lungs. 

“I am happy for you, you know.” he says, knocking knees with you. “It might not seem like it now, but I truly am.” 

Deciding not to dwell on his subversive confession, you thank him for the tea and excuse yourself. Dante seems like he’s got the hang of MarioKart, so you tug Jungkook by the hand and lead him back into your bedroom. 

“I got you a present, but I didn’t feel like making a scene about it,” you pull out a pink gift bag, tufts of white tissue paper sticking out. “Also, it’s kinda cheap and it was a last minute thing, so don’t have any high expectations.” 

“Gee, you’re really making me feel deserving of this gift,” but he takes his time in unraveling the bag anyway. 

He pulls out a shiny onyx black mug, rolling it between his hands. On one side it’s engraved in gold cursive “World’s Best Boss” but on the other side it’s engraved, “World’s Best Husband”. 

“Subtle,” he grins, pulling you into a hug. He gets that it’s a gag gift, but because it’s from you, it's a lot more meaningful. You could’ve easily delved into his bank accounts and see what he buys for himself, but you decided to take the more personal route. 

“Thanks,” he murmurs into your hair. And to really throw you off he says, “For my gift, I’ve decided to publish your novel.” 

You shove him away as if you’ve been stung, and you barely have the voice to ask, “Are you serious, you’ve read my novel? I didn’t even send you the first draft!” 

“We share the same Google Drive, it was easy to find. If you had noticed, it’s the only thing I’ve been reading this week,” he shrugs as if it’s nothing, but he’s in actuality giving you your lifelong dream. “You deserve it, really. I’m sorry if you felt like it wasn’t ready to be read. But it was wonderful, you’re a real wordsmith.” 

“I’m not upset,” you can’t be, not when he smells so good and he’s trying to hug you all over again. “How many copies?”

“10,000.”

“20,000.”

“15,000, and I’ll even give you permission to dedicate your novel to me.” he raises his brows irreverently. 

You scoff at his arrogance, but you don’t admit to confessing that along with professors and your family, you would be dedicating it to him. “Well my gift feels like absolute shit,” you deadpan, “can I have a do-over tomorrow? We can go to the mall or something.”

“You’ve done enough for me,” he disagrees, breaking away from you to place the mug on your desk. “Agreeing to my farfetched proposal, letting me into your home. I think that’s an amazing gift.” 

“You’ve been way too nice,” you look at him wearily, noting the rosiness in his cheeks. 

“You say that like it’s not possible!” 

“Who knows? Maybe the Christmas spirit has performed a miracle, who am I to judge?” and you can’t get enough of the man, running into his heart one more time. Pressing your ear to his chest you sing, “Well, in the Poconos they say, that Jeon Jungkook’s heart grew three sizes that day.” 

It may have not grown three sizes, but if the living room wasn’t so loud, maybe you could’ve heard his heart beating three times as fast. 

The calm after the storm is your favorite part of Christmas. Most of your extended family has left to mull in their own homes, leaving your family to laze around until it’s just you and Jungkook that are awake. 

Jim Carrey’s version of How the Grinch Stole Christmas is playing on Netflix, arguably the only superior rendition of the children's book. The tree is still glowing by the fireplace, soft white lights trickling in the darkened room. 

Earlier in the night, you and Jungkook had cuddled up in the middle of the couch under a blanket, and were too lazy to move even when the entirety of your family vacated. Either of you could’ve easily shoved each other off and went to bed, but here you are, making offhand comments over hot cocoa. Each second that passes by, you’re more aware of how well you two sink between the fabric like you’re meant to do this. The domesticity terrifies you, but you don’t dare to point it out. 

“How does his face do that?” Jungkook turns to you, contorting his face into funny expressions. It’s a poor attempt at the green creature on the screen, but it makes your mouth twitch and you fight the urge to giggle. “It’s like he’s made of rubber.” 

“He has a sense of humor, unlike some people.” 

“Very funny,” he says, turning away to take a sip of his cooca. 

Sinking further into the couch, you unconsciously latch onto him more, savoring his body heat. “Can I confess something?”  

“What’s up?” 

“A week ago, I loathed you. I used to have recurring dreams about you getting run over by a Wonderbread truck. And I was driving the truck.” 

“Wow, that makes me feel so much better.” 

“No really, if I had the opportunity to watch you get hit by a cab, I would’ve paid for it.” 

“If it were possible for me to file for divorce at this very second, now would be time. You are a walking red flag.” 

“Okay, but!” you shush him with a finger to your lips, and he goes cross-eyed at the touch. “After seeing your stellar performance this week and an impeccable display of human emotion. I think after all of this, we could be friends.” 

“Fwends?” he says through your finger, mouth smushed. “Why whuh we?” 

Instead of lifting your finger right away, you swipe at his cherry lips, getting rid of the marshmallow sticking to the corners. 

“Because we get along.” you say simply.

“Because we’re supposed to be getting married.” 

“No! We’ve always gotten along! We’ve just been too up our asses to notice!” you sit up, appalled. “Here’s my theory, a change of setting has suddenly spurred on your character development—”

“—y’know I really don’t appreciate your use of literary jargon, it’s really pretentious—”

“—because without your external conflict, you have a chance to let loose and enjoy your life for once!” 

Jungkook frowns, adjusting his frame so he slightly hovers you. He’s pretty like this, dressed in fluffy black pajamas and his face soft. His eyes absorb the Christmas fairy lights, and you notice for the first time in two years that there are no longer purple bags under his eyes. 

“I don’t know,” he murmurs, voice so small you wonder if he’s worried to crush the moment. “Friends are hard.” 

You shake your head vehemently, “Friends are easy, keeping them is the hard part.”

He doesn’t know why he’s being so weird about this. You’ve worked for him for over two years, you know him as well as you know your skincare routine, down to the last detail. 

“Jeon, don’t think too hard about this,” you try to get him to lighten up, the intense look in his eyes throwing you in for a loop. It makes the little hamster wheel in your head spin rapidly, and you wonder if you’re really crossing a line. “Jimin said you had a really good time yesterday, I was almost jealous I couldn’t come shopping with you.” 

He cracks a smile at that, “Yeah, Jimin and I shared a moment,” and he leans down to the shell of your ear, “and he said he really enjoyed our moment last night.” 

“Oh my god!” you grab a nearby throw pillow, chucking the rough fabric in his face. 

He breaks into a laugh, but not the wine and dine chuckles that he’d have between terse negotiations for work. It’s a full out giggle, like he’s proud to have riled you up enough to break your resolve. Who knew your angry face could be so cute? 

“I guess if we’ve crossed a line, might as well make it all the way to the end,” Jungkook says easily, running a hand through his chocolate tresses. 

You and Jungkook are leaving the day after tomorrow. Most of your stuff is packed and ready to go, and you’re currently spending the rest of your night at a sit-down dinner with your immediate family plus Jimin. 

It’s peaceful, you muse. Jungkook even offered to help cook. Back at Big Hit not once did he ever bring leftovers from home, always insisting you order something for him during work. Kimchi fried rice is a simple dish, but Jungkook had taken great care in making sure it was cooked properly and adjusted to your family’s tastes. 

Your parents are glowing and enjoying their time with the whole family, a rarity that grows more valuable with age. The meal soothes you like a balm, reminding you of old conversations that had you spew milk out of your nose or Namjoon accidentally spilling beans on your lap. 

“Oh, you should also clear your schedule for the first week of September,” Jimin says absentmindedly, shoving another mouthful of fried rice. “Besides Easter, Jungkook says we can celebrate his birthday and visit for the weekend.” 

“Seriously,” Namjoon balks, sitting up straight as he regards you in disbelief. “You’re sure your Devil of a boss will enjoy you out of his chains for two vacations, god forbid you take the holidays off again.” 

The grip on your fork tightens, but you steel yourself. Honestly, you were wondering why it took Namjoon this long to let it all out. He was always vehemently against your job, as he was the person who got the brunt of your vents when you were stressed. Probably for the sake of Christmas he let it go, but now that it’s over, the topic’s fair game. 

“Oh, c’mon Joonie,” your mother frowns, “not at the table.” 

“He isn’t that bad, Joon.” you reason, completely ignoring Jungkook as you stare straight at your brother. “He means well—”

“Means well?” Namjoon barks a laugh, as if it’s the most laudable thing. “Sis, you cried everyday for a straight month after you were hired.” he places his hands on the table, regarding you carefully, “I had to personally call your doctor in New York to get you sleeping pills, and not to mention that two weeks ago, you were crying again because you were worried he forgot your vacation and would make you work! Don’t tell me he ‘means well’ when I’ve been busy picking up the pieces!” 

At this point, you’re livid. Jungkook’s right here, and while you can’t go ahead and out the fact that he is your boss, you can still have his back. 

They don’t know that you’ve picked the pieces back up, reinforced yourself to create a better version of the person you once were. 

“He does mean well,” you cry, matching your brother’s red tone to a T. “He’s just stressed and genuinely cares about the company. I choose to work long hours because he takes his time in making sure the work we publish is worthwhile, and I support that. He’s hard on me because he knows I have potential. He’s going to make sure I succeed.” 

Namjoon looks at you like you’ve grown two heads. “You’re seriously defending your shitty boss?” 

Jimin puts a hand over Namjoon’s in an attempt to placate him, but he shoves it away.

“Honestly,” Namjoon spits venom, “how can you possibly stand to be around someone who makes your life so miserable?” 

Your meal has gone cold, and your fists clutch desperately at your jeans. The breath is robbed from your lungs, and you can’t look at anyone for fear of them regarding you with guilt. You know since the day you got hired that your family wasn’t exactly enthused at your boss’ level of expectation and work output. But they don’t know the industry, and they don’t even really know Jungkook past the surface level. . 

But you know in their eyes, they’re right. Their daughter left their comfy home to pursue her lifelong dream, only for it to be broken in a matter of weeks. It’s natural to feel protective, and while you’re resilient and were able to get it together as of late, it wasn’t enough for them to understand. As someone who loves you, it’s obvious they’d want to blame your boss, blame Jungkook for your suffering. 

You imagine your father would ask Namjoon to step outside, or your parents would make Jimin pull you and Jungkook out. Neither of those things happen.

A warm, large hand is placed on top of yours. You look towards Jungkook, face unreadable as he squeezes your thigh. 

“Namjoon’s right.” Jungkook utters, pressing his lips together. “You deserve to be treated with respect. The boss has never appreciated the hard work you do, at least not out loud. You’re too good for him.”

“Jungkook,” you gape, putting your other hand over his. 

He pulls away at your touch, glancing at the clock. “This dinner was wonderful,” he says gently, looking apologetic to your parents. “Excuse me, but I promised to call my parents at this time.” 

The excuse is completely half-assed, but no one says anything as he leaves, walking out the door without a coat. The table is terse, with your parents attempting to coax out dessert while Jimin clears the dinner table. You refuse to look at Namjoon, who has no idea why you’re so upset. You wait five minutes before you mumble about getting Jungkook a jacket. 

However, when you open the door he isn’t sitting on the porch. He’s all the way up the street, too far for you to be heard with a yell, and walking farther into town. The black hoodie falls to your side, disappointed. 

Jungkook does in fact, call his parents. Your mother suggested it when she gave him the ring, thinking it would ease his homesickness if he made a better effort to communicate his feelings. 

And so he spends over an hour huddled in a cafe, talking about nothing and everything with his mom and dad. He tells them about the little novelties he’s experienced this week, like making popcorn strings and picking out themed Christmas ornaments. He tells him how he promises to book a flight back to Korea as soon as his work visa goes through. While he doesn’t mention the proposal, he mentions you. He prattles on and on about how strong and beautiful you are, and how you’ve crept up on him and made him realize how awful of a person he was. 

His mom prattles excitedly through the line, saying that women make you realize how much better you can be for them, but she doesn’t know the half of it. 

Jungkook sat there in your dining room, Namjoon boldly telling you off about how miserable he’s made you. 

And yet still, you defended him in ways he never imagined. Your relationship has always been mutual, and prickly at best. You balanced each other out, but he knows he doesn’t deserve you. When he first hired you, he rendered you indispensable like all the other assistants that couldn’t handle it. You’d break eventually. 

And you did break. But you picked up the pieces and put yourself back together, and you didn’t resent him for it. He hated that. How can you trust someone who’s hurt you so much? 

He can’t let you go through with this marriage. You’re wrong. You don’t need him to be successful. 

[11:09] You: mom unlocked the door for you. Jimin and i went out for drinks so idk when ill be back

[11:09] You: please don’t be mad at me

Silly girl, why would he ever be mad at you? 

His plan is simple, Sneak into your villa, grab his luggage, and try to book the earliest flight back to New York. Then, he can come clean to Taeyeon and spend the year in Korea while they work out his visa issues. He’ll quietly pack his things and clear out the office before Monday.  Hopefully by the time he makes it to Busan, he can forgive himself. He’s going to regret missing your expression when you get to hold the first physical copy of your novel. 

This plan proves difficult when he sees Namjoon waiting outside for him, sitting on his luggage and reading a book. His long legs are splayed across the porch, and he doesn’t spare Jungkook a glance.

“Knew something was off,” the older man doesn’t look up from his novel, “found the mug on her desk, bossman.” 

Muttering a curse under his breath Jungkook opens his arms, “Are you gonna beat me up now?” 

“What? No, I’m a lover, not a fighter.” Jungkook scoffs, and watches Namjoon roll his luggage to the back of the van. “And out of the kindness of my heart, I’ll save you the Lyft fare and drive you to the airport.” 

Is he that predictable? He flinches at the sudden jet of the ignition, and he takes heavy, snow-laden steps to the passenger seat. Once buckled in, Namjoon tosses the book in his lap. “Some light reading for the drive.” 

If Namjoon wasn’t the driver, he wouldn’t hesitate to chuck the book at his big, intelligent head. Instead, he glowers, clutching the book tightly. It’s only when they round the corner to a house brightly decorated with lights, does he see what novel Namjoon’s plucked. 

A Mutually-Assured Attachment. Jungkook tosses the book back and forth between his palms, noting the soft cover is so worn it could melt apart in his lap. It feels tended and loved from years of use. 

It’s Jungkook’s first novel, and you had a copy. One of the first editions, if he remembers the cover art correctly. Granted, he thought you had some of his books purely because of your job, but not one from your childhood. Frankly he thought this should have never been published, but he was nineteen and that in itself was a large feat. 

He carefully peels the pages, and takes out his phone to shine the flashlight mode. At the very front, blood red ink is scratched next to the title: “this is THE most pretentious title i’ve read in my life! Don’t disappoint me jeon!!” 

Your handwriting’s all over the place. He sees graphite, gel, and glitter pens mark the margins, as if you’ve come back each time to write something new. The annotations vary, from “this part sucks” to “shit, that’s good i should do that”. You draw little pictures of the objects he’s contrived, from the little brass locket one character cherishes to the facial expressions you imagine they hold. 

And at the very end, your handwriting sits neat and bold on the inside cover: I can do better than him. 

Jungkook chuckles to himself, turning off the light. You’re always right. 

Namjoon senses the younger one is done, and he clears his throat. “I really really don’t understand what she sees in you.” 

“I don’t understand either,” Jungkook agrees easily, his finger tracing your handwriting. He muses that you were always out to get him, even if you didn’t know it. 

Namjoon masks his surprise by clearing his throat. “But I’d rather seek to understand than live the rest of my life having my sister resent me. I don’t really know what you two are going through, but if she trusts you with her life, I’ll try. Emphasis on try.” 

“I don’t deserve your trust.” 

“You damn right you don’t,” succumbing to his impulses Namjoon makes a sharp turn, and Jungkook holds his stomach together before it flies out the window.  

You come home to find your room cold and barren. All of Jungkook’s things are gone, except your Christmas mug. 

You at least thought Jungkook would spare you a goodbye before he ditched you. You hoped you’d at least consider each other friends who provide explanations after all of this. 

Lifting the mug off the desk, you hear a little clink in the glass, the chime unfamiliar. Hurriedly, you pour out its contents. A heavy, tungsten black ring lands in your palm. You clench the metal between your fingers, hugging it to your chest. 

Mind made up, you dash out to the hallway, nearly bumping into your cousin. At the same time you and Jimin blurt, “We need to go to the airport.” 

Apparently Namjoon warned Jimin that something fishy’s going on. Namjoon didn’t know what, but he had the inkling that Jungkook was hiding something. Once Jimin received the text to meet them at the airport, he flung you in his sedan and floored it. Flushed with adrenaline, Jimin is speeding with a fervor you’ve never experienced. 

“Can you please, take the edge off and tell me what the hell is going on?” 

Just like how Jungkook didn’t want Big Hit to go down the drain, you didn’t want this week to be in vain. You can’t wait a year for Jungkook to come back, and you didn’t want to publish your first novel without him by your side. 

“Long version or short version?” 

“The in-the-middle version. I don’t think I have the brain capacity to absorb all your drama right now but I really need some answers.” 

“O-kay. Basically, Jungkook isn’t a Literary Agent. He’s my god-awful boss. Or was awful, I don’t know. Jungkook left the country before his work visa was fully processed. That’s a breach, so he needs to live in Korea for a year to come back. But he can’t run Big Hit remotely, so he proposed to marry me to attain citizenship.”

Your head whips to the dashboard and you cry out, barely stopping the impact with your hands.  

“Sorry, sorry!” Jimin’s eyes are focused on the red light, absolutely terrified. “Bitch, you’re committing fraud with your boss! You could go to jail, that’s like, the hottest love story ever!” 

“But he’s going back to Korea because now he suddenly realized he can forge basic human connection.” you mutter, “so no, we’re not going to jail because he’s decided to do the right thing.” 

“So what you’re saying is, Jungkook has achieved self-actualization and decided to peacefully move to Korea and sacrifice the company for you.” Jimin is carving his free hand in the air, gesturing wildly. “Don’t you see! He really likes you.”

“Yeah, so now we need to go to the airport and tell his dumbass this isn’t the time to be selfless.” 

Once you find a spot you’re rushing out of the car, weaving between carts and people to find the correct terminal. This airport is much smaller than JFK, so it’s easy for you to navigate and get past the TSA. It also helps that Jin’s wife is an attendant. 

“He chose the 1:45 flight in Terminal 31A,” Mijoo chirps from her tablet, leading you in the right direction. She’s dressed impeccably, the odds and ends of this airport glued together by her impeccable organization. She points to the clock, which glares a digital 1:18AM. “You have time.” 

“Thank you Mijoo,” you exhale gratefully, “and I’m so so sorry I skipped your wedding!” 

“This is the 300th time you’ve said it,” Mijoo rolls her eyes, pushing you and Jimin forward, “But I’ll make sure not to miss your wedding.” 

You’re sweating from your down jacket, and you can’t believe it’s really all come down to this. The one person you’ve spent the last two years of your life doting on, and you didn’t want to stop. You wanted him not just for the publication of your novel, but because you needed him. 

Jungkook’s sitting in the waiting area of Terminal 31A, looking wholly inconspicuous as he reads a book and has his hood propped up. 

Fists balled, you stride forward only to have Jimin tug you back. “What?” 

Jimin pulls off your thick coat, making haste to wipe the sweat off your brow with his sleeves and flatten your messy hair. “What?” he tilts his head to the side, “you need to look good before the big confrontation. I’m recording this for archival purposes. Do you have any lip balm by any chance? You look chapped.” 

You slap his hands away, but those grubby fingers just come back with a vengeance. “My life is just a big show to you, isn’t it?”

“Living vicariously all day, every day.” 

While Jimin parts your bangs, the intercom cuts through the air. 

“The 1:45 flight to John F. Kennedy International airport will now commence boarding. Please line up according to the ticket class.” 

Jimin smiles at you, squeezing your shoulders and gestures for you to go. To your horror, Jungkook is first in line. Panic bubbles to your throat.

“Jeon Jungkook!” you cry, voice echoing throughout the terminal. “If you so much breathe in the direction of that plane I will call Mark Lee right this second and tell him the book series is off!” 

Like a deer in the headlights, Jungkook heeds to your voice immediately. In his stupor you jog forward to snatch his wrist and pull him out of line. You don’t let go until you’re away from the long line, and Jungkook tugs his wrist away. 

“Don’t you dare call him,” Jungkook looks serious, as if you didn’t drive all the way to stop him from making the biggest mistake of his life. “I will never forgive you if you terminate Mark Lee’s contract.” 

“And I won’t forgive you if you get on that plane.” 

Pain flashes in his eyes, and he shakes his head. “I need to. I can’t let us—let you go through with this. You and your family deserve better.” 

“What? Jungkook, I agreed to this just as much as you did.” 

“No, you didn’t.” he’s adamant, and steps back with every step you take forward. “As your boss I threatened you, held it over your head like an ultimatum. I’ve hurt you,” his voice cracks, looking at you desperately, “why would you want to be stuck with me when I’ve made your life miserable?” 

“If I really wanted to leave, I would’ve done it a long time ago.” You reason, “Do you really want to leave the company behind? To fucking Karen?” 

“Of course I don’t!” Jungkook exclaims, “but it isn’t worth hurting you, hurting your family and everyone that loves you.” 

“And what about you? You’ll be hurt when you leave,” and you step forward, so close that your chests are touching. You take hold of his hands, clutching them between your small ones. “Don’t go, stay with me in New York. We’ll both work hard and try to not run each other to the ground. Let’s be better together.” 

You’re practically begging, biting your lip raw and hoping Jungkook understands how good this change is for the both of you. 

Jungkook is conflicted, looking back and forth between the airline boarding for JFK and your watery eyes. He hates seeing you like this. He can’t imagine you, the strongest woman he’s ever met, crying because of him. Namjoon’s voice echoes in his mind and he tries to smash it to the edge of his memory. But as always, you’re right. 

He replaces your grip with his own, and gets down on one knee. 

Jungkook says your name like it's the sweetest of songs. You’ve never seen him so terrified. “y/n, I didn’t do it right the first time, so let me try again. Please, marry me. Marry me because I want to date you. I want to take you out and give you what you deserve, what we deserve. I want to do better for myself, do better for you. I’ve realized you’re the only person that makes me feel like I’m simultaneously on fire and on thin ice,” he pulls out a velvet box from his pocket, revealing a thin band with interlocking black and clear diamond studs. It’s a pretty little thing, with a groove in the center so it stacks perfectly with your engagement ring. “This was supposed to be your Christmas present, but I chickened out at the last second,” he says sheepishly, tucking his head in. “But if you let me put this ring on your finger, I promise to be your home away from home.”  

With a sob you fall to your knees, throwing yourself onto Jungkook. A small “oof” escapes his lips, and he struggles to hold your waist so you both don’t topple over. “Yes, yes, yes!” you cry, pulling away to cup his face with both hands, pulling him into a sweet kiss. 

Jungkook’s smile takes up his entire face, and he eagerly pecks your lips one more time before ripping the ring from its holder and stacking it on top of your engagement ring. The teardrop diamond is nestled perfectly between the thinner band’s V. “Pretty,” he says, pressing his forehead to yours. 

“Wait,” you pull out the black ring that you found in your room, holding it to his face. “I’m assuming this is yours?” 

“Yeah,” he replies, “your mother said it was your great grandfather’s. It’s not an engagement ring, but it’s the thought that counts.” 

“It matches,” you hum, placing his simpler band in his ring finger. Once it’s on, you take a deep breath. “Shit, we’re really doing this?” 

Jungkook pulls you to stand, wiping the happy tears from your cheek. “We are, we’re a team, remember? We’ve crossed the line and we gotta finish it.” 

And he picks you up, the workouts definitely paying off as he spins you around like you’re the leads in La-La Land, drunk off the happy chemicals firing in your brain. Jimin whoops and hollers, along with all the other patrons in the vicinity of the airport terminal. 

Your real-fiancé puts you down, the both of you now hyperconscious of the stares people give you. Other people have filmed the proposal as well, completely smitten by your confessions. 

“Jungkook,” you giggle into his shoulder, “you were right. Our story is straight out of a Wattpad entry.” 

“Down to the super cheesy in-public airport proposal?” he chimes, pressing his forehead to yours. “Couldn’t have asked for a better love story.” 

“I can’t wait to fall in love with you,” you whisper, quiet enough for his ears only, “for real, this time.” 

“Not that it’s a challenge,” he teases softly, “but I’m already halfway there.” 

some months later.

“Like the new office, boss lady?” your new assistant (yes, you have an assistant!) asks kindly, his bubbly presence uplifting you immediately. He leads you to the window box, filled with tiny plants. “I figured you like succulents, because you have no time to water them and they’re prickly like you.” 

“Very funny, Seungkwan.” you chide good-naturedly, picking up a succulent with a yellow flower in the middle. “But thank you, your interior design skills are outmatched. I can’t wait to work with you.” 

“Me too, your social commentary you published on the literary industry? And you managed to lace it all up in an inconspicuous fantasy novel?” Seungkwan boasts, “I applied for this position right then and there.” 

“Thanks Seungkwan, why don’t you take your lunch and we’ll meet back at one to discuss our plans for next week.” 

“Sounds good, do you want me to pick you up something?” 

“I’m good, I’m meeting with the bossman.” 

Seungkwan gives you that look, his lips jutting out in a suggestive manner that almost makes you burst into giggles. Your assistant decides not to bother you until after you’ve eaten, and bids you goodbye. 

Just when you get a moment of peace, a handsome face pokes his way inside. “Hello editor,” Jungkook knocks on your door for the sake of attention, but you’re already dragging him into the office and shutting the door tight. “Like your new office?” 

“Love it,” you moan, gesturing to Seungkwan’s light filtering curtains. They’re not dark, rather a tasteful sea green, but they’re opaque enough to stop wandering eyes from peeking into your space. Your personal space was a qualm that immediately needed to be mended after your experience in Jungkook’s office. “A lot more private than your office.” 

“A little part of me hates how much you deserve this promotion,” he sits on your desk, and doesn’t hesitate to pull you between his legs, letting you lean into his chest, “but I do love the added privacy.” 

You fiddle with the buttons of his navy collar, his strong thighs trap you between him, “Why, miss me already?” 

He shrugs, “Taehyung doesn’t look as good as you do in a pencil skirt.” 

You laugh, brushing the strands of hair that fall from his coiff. “No one looks as good as I do in a pencil skirt.” A firm grip confirms that, two strong hands cupping your backside. “Mr. Jeon!” you gasp playfully, pushing him away slightly to pinch his cheeky grin. “Can we save this for later? I’m hungry, but we can always continue this for dessert.” 

He groans in your neck, “Love the sound of that, Mrs. Jeon.” 

bonus.

“FUUUCCCKKKKKK YEEAAHHHHH!” Park Jimin’s voice bounces off the walls of Taeyeon’s office, his face taking up the entire screen of his desktop as the camera shifts harshly between him and you and Jungkook at the airport. “My cousin’s not going to jail! WOO!” 

Taeyeon pauses the YouTube video at a particularly unflattering screencap: Jimin’s nostrils are flaring wildly and he looks fairly high mid-scream. 

A low whistle escapes Jungkook’s lips, “Wow. That video’s viral,” he looks to you appreciatively, “if Jimin kicks off his YouTube career, you think we can milk a memoir outta him?” 

“Potentially,” you reply nonchalantly, playing with your rings. 

“So,” Taeyeon’s voice is icy, slashing between your casual conversation, “you’re getting married, for real this time?” 

“Yep,” Jungkook pops. 

“Alright,” and from her desk she pulls out an ungodly stack of documents, one that mirrors your own back at the office. “Jungkook, you’ll stay with me. y/n, you’ll go to Vernon’s office and he’ll give you the same spiel. We’ll interview you privately with the same questions. A hair out of place and you’re in trouble. You sure you want to go through with this?” 

You and Jungkook exchange looks, betting your own company that you got this in the bag. 

“Hit us with your best shot.” 

[tenthgrove]

LA SQUADRA SEPERATLY FINDING OUT THEY HAVE A YOUNGER SISTER HC?

La Squadra Discovering they have a Younger Sister

La Squadra x Reader, Platonic / Familial, SFW

Formaggio- Out of everyone in La Squadra, Formaggio has some of the closest contact with his birth family, so a secret sister he didn’t know about would be a huge surprise. The only way you could possibly exist is through an extramarital affair that got swept under the carpet, but Formaggio is still going to be thrilled to hear of you. He will want an in-person meet-up within days of learning you exist, or even sooner if you’re available. His goal from the get-go is to make up for lost time, in order to strive for as close a relationship as if you had been raised together. He’ll announce your existence to the squad and happily introduce you to them if you wish. He knows it’s dangerous to involve you with them, but he’s going to make damn sure himself that nobody will ever hurt you.

Illuso- Having lived through a sad, lonely childhood, Illuso’s initial outward reaction to finding out he has a sibling is apathy. Though he will seek you out, he will insist to anyone who asks that it’s out of pure curiosity. Things start to change after your first couple of interactions. His questions turn from frivolous curiosity to genuine concern. Was your childhood any better than his? Are you happy now? Once your relationship resembles a friendship, Illuso will meet with you regularly to catch up. He won’t say anything to the rest of the squad beyond the essentials and he won’t be seen with you in public, but with his stand, he doesn’t need to. Even if you are not a stand user yourself, he wants you to know about the mirror world. He wants you to be proud of what he’s capable of. 

Prosciutto and Pesci- (A/N: I will be using my personal hc of these two as biological brothers. I know that the canon evidence for this is questionable, but making them related just fits better with the way I view them.) To Prosciutto and Pesci, family has always been the most important thing, so there is no question that they will accept you as kin no matter where you are in life. Prosciutto in particular is not surprised to learn of you- he already knew his father was disloyal because Pesci exists. Another child in the mix is not a major shock. Building bonds with people who aren’t gangsters is not Prosciutto’s strong-point, but he will be happy to support you financially or offer you protection if you ever need it. Though he may not meet with you frequently, you’re welcome to call him if you are ever in need of advice or an ear to listen. Pesci’s reaction is a little different. He desperately wants to be close with you, but he fears being despised for what he’s made of his life. Prosciutto has to tell him to grow up and face you. Once things are less awkward, Pesci will do his best to stay in touch with you regularly, frequently meeting up. He will be a very sweet, supportive older brother, always offering encouragement and boosting your self-esteem. 

Melone- The chances are, he encountered you completely by accident. It began the day he first saw you, most likely either at a bar or online, and was struck by your similar features. He did some digging, got hold of your DNA, and the results confirmed his suspicions. You are Melone’s little sister. His first port of call is to contact you and explain himself. He makes no attempt to hide the bizarre life he lives (excluding the fact he regularly commits murder) and the way he found you, which is enough to make you call him for bullshit until you’re also forced to acknowledge the resemblence you share to him. With you convinced, Melone visits you in person to find out how you’re getting on, and to shed some light on your interests and personality so he can engage with you better in future conversations. He also wants to know about your relationships. Do you have a partner? Children? If so, he’ll definitely want to be involved in their lives, offering to take babysitting duties whenever you need. If you’re single and don’t want to be, he’ll be happy to help matchmake for you. Just don’t ask about his methods.

Ghiaccio- He’s very cautious about getting you mixed up with him because if you’re his sister and younger than he is, that makes you a kid. Some of the others say he’s a kid, but he wouldn’t go that far, thank you. However, he still wants to have contact with you out of an abundance of paranoia for his own shitty, shitty childhood. Who is taking care of you? Do they treat you well? If you’re being subjected to anything close to what your parents put him through, he’s going to be angry and there’s going to be blood. The last thing he wants is for you to be lonely, so he’ll suck up his reluctances and hang out with you from time to time, to see how you’re doing. But please, for the love of god, don’t try and follow him into Passione. He could never forgive himself if that happened. 

Risotto- Another one in the ‘not surprised’ category. Risotto’s parents ditched him at birth, so he’s always known there was a fair chance they would have had other children after him. The wounds of his parents’ abandonment are deeper than he’s willing to admit, but he won’t hold it against you. You are a reminder of the peaceful life he could have lived, and for that he wants to cherish you. In-person meetings are going to be rare. He can’t stand the thought of Passione learning of your existence and using you against him. However, he will still make time for you in texts and phone-calls, listening to you describe your day-to-day life and offering advice where you ask for it. Perhaps, if everything is calm within the gang, he will sneak away for a few days around your birthday or the holidays, to spend time with you in person.

Sorbet- Reluctant, but don’t take it personally. Sorbet’s entire childhood consisted of caring for his younger siblings while his mother was in no condition to do so herself. He’s not angry to find there was another sister he didn’t know about (most likely born after he ran away), but it is going to have some bad associations for him. Gelato will be the one to push him into meeting you, but despite his reservations Sorbet will treat you with absolute respect. His ongoing relations with you will be quite similar to Prosciutto’s, offering you support when you need it but otherwise keeping a distance. Perhaps once things are easier for him and Gelato, Sorbet will be able to become closer to you. He hopes you know that he wants things to be like that.

Gelato- His first reaction is caution. The rest of the family were absolute trash to him, and if you’re just going to look down on him and criticise his choices he doesn’t want to go near you. This goes double if you were actually raised by his estranged parents, as he’ll see you as some sort of replacement. That’s a thought that absolutely disgusts him. Rest assured he will come around eventually, once he sees you’re not the same as the rest of his family. He’ll invite you to hang out with him whenever you’re in town, and stay in touch via text whenever you aren’t. Sometimes you wake up at 3am to the most incomprehensible messages you’ve ever seen, frequently followed by an apology from Sorbet. Your brother is a real highlight of your life, always sure to make you laugh.

[mrsgiovanna]

Giorno Giovanna x Reader

A cute request from a sweet nonnie, it reads more like a crack fic😅, but I hope you enjoy this my sweet.

This takes place in an AU where everyone lives ❤️💕🐞🥺

It was one of the quieter weeks for La Squadra Gardie del Corpo. Missions were not coming in as fast as they usually did, and the ones that did come your way were easily completed. In short, you all had a lot of free time to talk about all the silly things that lived in your minds.

Today was no different, as you all lazed around the lounge of the base, junk food wrappers strewn about, you and Mista were almost comatose from a sugar crash while Narancia was still going strong, raiding with his online teammates he replaced you and Mista with after you both crashed. You don’t know how he managed to stay alert like that after gaming all night.

“Filthy casuals… if you’re just going to spas out, you might as well pick up some of this, Bucciarati is going to kill us…huh? No no, I’m just talking to my roommates,”

“Filthy casuals? Does that include me as well?”

“Ummm… Bucciarati… you see…”

You felt bad for abandoning Narancia like that, but couldn’t help but laugh at the lecture he was probably getting from Bucciarati. Your rambunctious laughter could be heard from the other side of the house, making a certain blond boy smile as he pulled on his signature magenta suit jacket.

“Shhhhhh (y/n), if you keep that up Bucciarati is going to come after us when he’s done with Narancia.

“Ahhh okay okay, sorry I’ll keep it down… well I’ll try, you know how I am,” you say through your laughter.

“Good morning… what’s going in here? I could hear you guys all the way from my room,” Giorno asked, smiling sweetly as he saw your face. You suddenly felt a bit shy and self conscious, looking down as you returned his greeting.

“You guys are the worst, I’m never letting you near my console again, die of boredom, see if I care!” shouted Narancia, leaving both you and Mista battling to contain your laughs again. You had to admit, you did feel a little guilty, so you made a mental note to make it up to him later. It may have sounded chaotic to an outsider, but it was all part of how you guys interacted with each other. Being so close in age, you all shared a special familial bond, which meant you would do anything for each other, but would also mess around with each other relentlessly, until Bucciarati would step in and put you all back in order.

You loved them all dearly, a band of idiot brothers to both trouble and take care of, but these warm familial feelings didn’t extend to Giorno… he was different, and your reactions to him affected you in a different way. At first, you couldn’t put a name to those feelings, but as you spent more time with him, you realized, it was a crush. Since then, you barely knew how to carry yourself around him anymore. With everyone else you were your usual jovial self, making silly jokes, being the life of the party, putting everyone in a better mood because of your infectious laughter. When it came to Giorno though, you were more reserved, the silly jokes being replaced with coy glances, rambunctious laughter with nervous giggles, as much as you tried to be yourself, you got too flustered around him. Little did you know, it was your lively, cheerful demeanor that had attracted Giorno to you…

He noticed that you were different around him, he wanted, for just one time, to make you crack up the way you did around the others. He found the way you expressed yourself, genuine joy painting your lively face, to be completely enchanting.

“Alright everyone, can we please meet before everyone starts with their day,” called Bucciarati as Abbacchio and Fugo made their way to the meeting area. Before even voicing your suggestion that you wanted to sit this one out, being completely exhausted from staying up all night, Bucciarati had preemptively spoke, “As for you three, it’s nobody else’s problem you decided to stay up, get in here and look alive,”

“Fine, fine, I’ll be there,”

Dragging yourselves to sit around the table, you see Giorno motion for you to check your phone.

“Are you sure you’re okay? I can create a diversion for you to run away,”

“Hahaha, thanks, I’m all good, it’s my fault anyway,”

“Not wrong there,”

“Wow, you’re supposed to disagree with me, and offer words of comfort,”

“Ahh, you see, I missed that lecture,”

“Were you always this sarcastic?”

“Pretty sure I’ve been serving up these remarks for the longest time,”

“Is missing the sarcasm a good thing or not? Perfect delivery, I guess,”

“It’s not delivery it’s DiGiorno”

There was something about his deadpan expression and the dumb joke that he made that made you burst out laughing uncontrollably. You didn’t even notice that everyone else was glaring at you, wondering what on earth had set you off this time. It didn’t matter though, all you were looking at was the faintest pink blush dusting Giorno’s face as he looked at you, knowing that he was the reason you were this happy.