#at a job site i was at they asked my supervisor if i was old enough to be on site and their age cut off was 16

[zerofuntimes]

why do people always think im a child? my eyes convey a sense of world weariness only a 20 something could possess and yet people still without fail think im like 16

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Your Shift is Not Over

"Goddamn, I'm exhausted," Brad groaned, using a glove to mop the sweat off his brow.

"It's hotter than hell out here," Ricky chimed in, "You know, we never got sunburnt when we used to work in the office."

"Yeah, that accounting job was really nice," Brad's voice was laced with a twinge of regret, "We were making the big bucks back then too. Weren't we?"

"But office jobs are for pansies," Ricky automatically blurted out, and Brad affirmed the sentiment.

"Yeah, real men do hard labor. Real men do construction," his voice relayed the phrase robotically.

The tired duo tossed their gear aside and collapsed on the side of the road. They had given away their fancy sports cars earlier that week, per the suggestion from their new boss. Now they were completely dependent on the guy for rides to and from the job site.

"How long do you think he'll be today?" Ricky asked Brad.

"I don't know man. The boss is always late to pick us up," Brad growled, barely concealing his frustration.

"The boss is a good man," Ricky suddenly announced, "He deserves our respect."

Brad's eyes glazed over and he added, "The boss is our superior. He deserves our respect."

The pair shook their heads to clear the sudden fogginess that overtook them. Their contradicting thoughts were starting to confuse them, but they knew they weren't supposed to talk about that with each other.

"Is your ex still giving you crap," Ricky asked to fill the silence as they waited.

"Nah, she just kept on calling after I broke off the engagement, but the boss was right," he paused, "She was a waste of time."

"Makes sense. My parents kept trying to talk to me after we quit our old jobs. I think they were worried, but I cut them out of my life," Ricky's face slackened, "The boss is the only family I need."

Brad and Ricky continued to make small talk as they baked on the side of the road until an old truck finally rolled around the corner and stopped in front of them.

"Get in, boys," the boss rasped between puffs of his cigarette.

"Yes, boss," they both affirmed with wide eyes. They got to work piling their tools in the back before finally collapsing into the dusty seats.

"You boys work hard today?" the boss called from the front, "Need to make sure your not slacking."

"Yes, boss. We didn't break once and got ahead of schedule," Ricky straightened up and reported mechanically.

"Good, the client will pay me a bonus if you two get that crap done early," the boss chuckled, "I've got another job for you two today."

"Another job? We're exhausted!" Brad whined as his eyes fluttered shut.

The wheels screeched as the boss slammed the brakes. His wrinkled eyes glared at the two tired workers from the rearview mirror.

"You aren't tired, boy."

"I'm not tired," Brad corrected himself.

"You are excited for any opportunity to make me money."

"I am excited for any opportunity to make you money."

"You will not speak back to me again."

"I will not speak back to you again," Brad repeated, his eyes were glazed over the entire time and saliva began sliding down his open mouth.

"...and Ricky!"

"Yes, boss!" Ricky jumped, suddenly afraid of the power this man had over his friend. He couldn't recall ever seeing just how terrifying their new boss was.

"You will punch him in the balls anytime he bad mouths me."

"I will punch Brad in the balls anytime he badmouths you," Ricky moaned, suddenly realizing that Brad was the one in the wrong for disrespecting the boss.

"Alright, get out," the boss barked, "We're here. You boys are on garbage duty."

Ricky and Brad quickly gathered their bearings and climbed out of the truck before their boss hit the gas and sped off. They trudged through the landfill in search of the supervisor who would put them to work.

"Did I fall asleep in the truck back there?" Brad asked, "I think I was out of it or something."

"I don't know," Ricky wasn't too sure what happened during the drive himself.

"I'm not tired anymore, and I'm happy to make him more money," Brad stated blankly, and then shook off the trance and added, "But he could've given us a break. The old fart can be a real pain in the ass!"

Before Brad knew what was happening, Ricky's arm came flying into his crotch. "What the...!" he cried and crumpled to the dirt. "What was that for!" he squealed in agony.

Ricky was standing over him, looking at his fist in confusion. Then a look of calm came over his face as he said "I'll punch you in the balls anytime you bad mouth the boss."

Ricky eventually shook off the hypnotic conditioning and helped his buddy to his feet. Together they shuffled through the garbage and began their second shift in a long day of work. The summer sun beat down on the landfill, baking the odors into pair of bluecollar workers, but they didn't care or notice.

This job was much better than that cushy office job they got degrees for. Brad and Ricky didn't care about their paychecks anymore. They didn't care about much of anything aside from their boss. Thank God that guy stopped them on their way to work a week ago. If he hadn't talked them out of it, they'd still be sitting in designer suits on the tenth floor of that iron tower.

Everyday, the creepy old man erased more and more of Brad and Ricky's thoughts and personalities. Their heads were eventually filled entirely with thoughts he planted in their. They woke up, worked, lived, ate, and breathed manual labor. That was all he needed them for, so that's all they did.

[takami-takami]

Okay this is long but RANT ABOUT MY JOAB.

The more people I talk to about the situation, the more I realize that my supervisor just did not care to teach me.

She told me to "run a workshop" (i have literally no idea what they looked like) and gave me no oppurtunity to shadow someone, so when the one I came up with from my own brain flubbed, i didnt know what to do. Because I am not a fucking social worker yet! I have no idea what the fuck a workshop is!!!

What do you MEAN that's my fault, that's not my fault! I came up with one out of my ass because I repeatedly requested and asked for you to please please please clarify what you mean and give me an example and you refused and told me to just do it. You gave me "old example slides" that show nothing but bullet points that the person was using as a visual guide; I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT TO DO WITH THIS.

So when it came time to do it in a mock workshop with you and the social worker on site, and I had anxiety and cried, how was I blamed for that? You were scrolling on your phone the whole time anyway! Tf was I supposed to do?! YOU NEVER TRAINED ME AND TOLD ME TO MAKE SOMETHING UP!!!!

But honestly. It sucks sooooo bad. I talked to multiple people about this and they said they would cry too like ?????

I ASKED to shadow someone. You said you would let me shadow someone first, then forgot, and said "that's not happening"

I even tried explaining. "I have my slides and activity ready to go, but I do NOT know what kind of behaviors to do when running a workshop. I have never seen one before, so I do not know what behaviors to do or how to act." And she looked at me like i was stupid.

BITCH THIS IS YOUR JOB!!! YOU ARE OFFICIALLY CLASSIFIED AS MY "INSTRUCTOR".

And during supervision, I had to repeatedly say, "listen, the supervision form says I need to discuss this with you" and she would shoo me away. Until i read the actual questions one by one saying, "Discuss with your supervisor xyz" so she would know i could not answer it on my own bc who else am i supposed to discuss with?!

She made me work the front desk and make coffee. HOW DOES THAT HELP ME WITH SOCIAL WORK

For god's sake, she told me to come up with resources for their page during one of the times I expressed that we should probably address clients needs in a more substantive way and she said "use the internet" when I asked how exactly I was supposed to locate these services

She told me multiple people have complained to her about the personalities at the annex like YOU THINK!?

It's like. Your mission says you do all these things for clients but the rooms are literally completely silent here. The only reason clients come is to sit in the lounge and drink free coffee and do their homework. That is literally all.

And she would just be on her fucking phone like wheeeeere is the service? Are you taking this seriously at all? Because you're supposed to be a fucking social worker.

Their "connecetion to resources" is just pamphlets on the front desk and links on their canvas page that you need an INVITE to get access to. And it only has the fucking state 2-1-1 information. Remote and travelling students have complained MULTIPLE TIMES how unsupported they are by the university, that's a need there. ADDRESS IT.

Like. Does anyone even KNOW about these "peer consult" services? Like genuinely, do they, because the sample learning contract you gave me from a previous student barely mentioned peer consultation at all. And peer consult isn't social work either. Social work is a fucking academic profession, not a volunteer program.

Like genuinely what the FUCK do you do to reach disenfranchised populations? WHERE IS THE SOCIAL SERVICES? Like you're combatting food insecurity for the ten fucking people who drop in a day by giving free snacks and lunches i GUESS. But like genuinely what the fuck else?

It's lazy. It's stupid. NO ONE is going to actually bring up criticisms to you in your stupid fucking check in form because they came here to study and don't have time for that. It's YOUR job to conduct focus groups or needs assessments or DEDICATED SURVEYS with the clients.

And the fact that she had the AUDACITY to ask me if I would be comfortable "walking up to people and asking if they need help" when I mentioned micro work. Yeah, okay, let me walk up to Bill and he'll tell me "yes actually I need help with finding housing assistence given my current landlord is upping the price of rent and I cannot afford it with my new expenses of adopting a dog. Can you refer me to pet food banks and housing assistence programs? Thanks a bunch!" NO THEY'RE GONNA FUCKING SAY "i'm fine thank you :)"

IT'S SO STUPID!!!!!

[piastrinorris]

thanks to @pollenallergie i haven't stopped thinking about older!tom grant for days now, and while any fics i could write about him need to be put on the backburner for now (there's one that's been in the pipeline for a While now), here's some headcanons of my interpretation of what lil tommy g is like as an adult:

(under the cut bc long)

(also as i'm writing this i may or may not be planning fics that happen at each stage of the timeline)

(also x2 before any of u weirdos start hopping into my ask box, this is in no way trying to overshadow cassie's version of him, i'm just throwing my own ideas into the void. i love cassie's tom, and then in a separate universe, i can have my tom, too. also he's p much every guy i've ever pulled except he's way more romantic than any of my exes, so this is more self-catharsis than anything else LMAO)

okay so tom's timeline post-canon:

after his lil summer gigs at the caravan park, he moved back up north to derby and got a job at a construction company that's owned by an old family friend, like his dad's childhood best friend. it was always a given, even when he wanted to pursue a life living down in cornwall, he just couldn't stop associating the whole place with ruth and heartbreak and all manner of things that weighed heavy on his heart. and fuck that, right? he's got his whole life ahead of him!

he spends his first few years as a legal adult the way all british lads do - by spending at least two nights a week at some kind of pub, bar or nightclub. he can pull, of course, but the convenience of still living with his parents gives him an excuse to put off going any further with anyone. cassie's anon who suggested bi tom, i'm kissing you so hard on your forehead rn bc he'd literally spend like almost a year being just shy of his Hoe Phase, making out with anyone who wants to, regardless of their gender, but only while he's at the club, he never lets himself go further.

until that one night when his parents are away and his mates know full well that he's got no excuse and they're very obviously egging him on. (this would probably be the first fic in the series)

he moves out from his parents' place into a flat with a friend he's made outside of work, and that's when his lil slut era truly begins. (maybe a series of blurbs for this?) he lives with a friend he's made outside of work (any gender, it's not relevant bc bi!tom and his flatmate are 100% Best Buds For Life but also if neither of them find anyone worth pulling on a night out, they'll go back to the flat and fool around together anyway)

in his working life, tom absolutely thrives at the construction company. mostly bc he's known the workers his whole life, so he can have plenty of banter with them, but also, more importantly, he knows just enough IT skills to be able to help the owner with digitalising all the admin stuff. this means tom rises the ranks to supervisor pretty quickly, and everyone loves little Boy Wonder himself. he hates being in the office though, he's always out on site wherever the company's got jobs going. he's hands-on, he wants to help, he doesn't want to be a Big Boss Type

okay, from now on, this is the part in tom's life where he meets you, the person who ends up as his endgame. so this is a different character to those i might write about in his hoe phase, probably time skip a few years of tom taking a break from slutting it up and just casually dating until he knows exactly what he wants to give and take from a relationship.

and then he meets you. it's summer, and your work bestie has invited you over to her place to meet her boyfriend and her non-work friends for the first time. you're a little nervous, but you remember that she has a dog, so if all else fails, you can just go full Party Dog mode and switch everyone else off

it's not that you don't like her friends from outside of work, you just have way less in common with them than you do her, and it feels awkward trying to put yourself in conversations without her there, and she's all over this new fella of hers, so you go to your failsafe to find that someone else has had the same idea as you

tom's come along as support for his best friend, who's dating your work bestie. however, since the boyfriend is being walked like a dog around the whole party being introduced to everybody, tom isn't as sociable and was promised there'd be a Party Dog there, so he's gone looking, himself.

you guys bond v quickly over being Party Dog People, spending the night narrating different groups as though you're david attenborough and taking it in turns to let the dog comment in silly voices you both make up for it

stupidly, you don't get his number, or even his last name. one thing you'd learned about him is that he doesn't really use social media, which you can tell from the instagram account you find from several hours of snooping lightly browsing, which was last updated when he'd gone on a lads' holiday to ibiza several years ago, and only features group shots in which he's tiny and his face is mostly obscured with sunglasses. which means you've got to try and convince your work bestie to invite you somewhere that her boyfriend's friends are gonna be, too

thankfully, this is nice n easy, bc tom's been planning the exact same on his end. you guys get so lost in conversation all night that you almost forget to ask for his number, until you're rolling down the window in the back of the Uber you've ordered and he's hanging halfway through it to make sure he studies the screen so that he can make sure that everything he thinks he's saying matches up with what he actually is

the Uber driver gets a little peeved about this and is like "listen mate just get in so i can drive off" and tom sheepishly complies, ending up riding all the way home with you. you'd feel rude if you didn't invite him in, though a little part of you is sad that tom's just probably gonna be another one night stand bc you really liked him. you get another drink for the two of you once you're inside, he suggests the two of you watch something for a bit for some background noise. naturally, you cuddle up, and that leads to kissing - a lot of kissing. but he doesn't try it on any further. you both end up falling asleep on the couch until you wake up to the sight, sound n smell of him making himself home in your kitchen, cooking you breakfast

you guys have this sort of, slightly more than friends, not exactly friends with benefits, relationship that he isn't out here jumping the gun trying to define, so neither are you. you're trying to stay casual with it, to keep up with him, even though your work bestie keeps pushing you for more bc she doesn't believe that that's just what you guys are, but she's not making any hints that tom's suggested taking things further, and so neither will you. (would it be an rj fic if there wasn't a comedy of errors thanks to basic miscommunication? lol)

either a significant amount of months pass, or valentine's day approaches, and tom gets you a gift. it's not any big grand gesture, but it's something that v much pertains to something you really love. a hobby, an interest, some silly little objectification of an inside joke) you feel bad, of course, and he insists that he's just a gift giver by nature, it wasn't done with the intention of getting anything back. but after many minutes of bargaining, he relents and allows you to invite him over for a homecooked meal. this is when you guys talk it all out, explain that both of you have felt a Spark but didn't want to Assume so you'd been dialling it back to protect your friendship with each other. naturally: tom ends up spending the night, but not a lot of sleeping happens, if you catch my drift

now in terms of what the dynamic is with you and older!tom:

he's still the menace he was in his younger days. you head into the office to give him the lunch he forgot to make bc he'd been running late too busy eatin something ELSE amiRIGHT and his coworkers tease you for being so in love that you'll bend over backwards for him and you know as soon as they've said that, that any second tom'll be leaning in once they're looking the other way to mutter in your ear about how you certainly were bent over backwards for him last night

speaking of, remember how he hated being in the office? not once he starts dating you. any excuse he can get to have you in there with him, whether his colleagues know or he's snuck you in, he's there

i also think that. okay i'm also co-opting @mypoisonedvine's idea of tom having a housewife kink, but hear me out. so, you know there's that saying, if you joke about a kink long enough, you'll end up into it? i think something similar-but-not-really happens to tom. where he works with a bunch of older men with "traditional" values, they're always making jokes about being in trouble with the missus, or about whether he can't stay after work bc you've got the dinner on and you're expecting him home. and tom isn't afraid to call them out on it, to tease them right back that it sucks for them that their partners aren't into them, but he's just built different. but the more he vocalises against being into the idea of you being a stay-at-home wife, the more taboo it becomes. which means the sexier that idea becomes. which means soon enough, he's dreaming about you, looking after the house while he makes sure he can look after you. it becomes obvious after a while that he's got a specific fantasy in mind for you, so he eventually tells you, and you're into it, too. especially considering construction pays pretty decently once you're up the ladder like tom is, technically you're one let's do it away from making your fantasy a reality. but there's just something about sensationalising something so easily obtainable, but not giving into it, that makes it all the more exciting for you both

i don't think either of you fully make your minds up about whether you want to start a family or live the dink (double income, no kids) life forevermore and use your money to spoil each other. i think you guys spend most of your twenties and maybe some of your early thirties just enjoying life, travelling the world, indulging yourselves, until eventually you settle down. a lot of yours and tom's friends, especially the ones who have already started families of their own, question why you wouldn't want to start young, grow up with your kids, and then enjoy your later years without the responsibility. but you and tom have talked it through, and his mindset has always been that you don't stop being a parent once the kid hits 18, and that he's always thought life was for living, not for saving up for a future that never ends up coming because you're forever saving up for it

i've written way more than i initially intended to LOL but yeah, i might make this something? i might not? idk. but this is my tommy. <3

[the-quasar-hero]

My job has a lateness form we’re supposed to fill out if we’re late; this, I feel, is an arbitrary and meaningless exercise as we already have protocol to email our supervisor(s) if and when we’re late. We include the date and time we’re entering the site, opposed to our expected arrival time. This lateness form is not only more writing for us to do but we’re expected to fill it out immediately upon arrival. We work with kids so standing around filling out a lateness form while we’re already late is, quite frankly, a massive waste of time. This has been implemented recently though and I’m lucky enough to live close to my job, so I’m hardly ever late. But my supervisor’s supervisor is now replying to my old lateness emails from last year when the lateness form didn’t exist and is asking me to fill it out for those days. I could see the issue if these latenesses happened in January but they were in October and November. I can’t reasonably ascertain a point in retroactively filling out a form for that. Different pay period, different semester, different year. What’s the point

[anotherworldnowblog]

9

ON THE DEATH OF CHIEWELTHAP MARIAR

(the following text was originally published and distributed in the first months 2023 as the final section of Service Notes #2, a zine written and edited by Chicago baristas and published for Chicago baristas and food service workers. This second issue included two personal essays from food service workers, one poem by an ex-barista, stills from Christian Marklay’s “The Clock,” selected poems by the poet-worker, Xu Lizhi, as well as the following journalistic and theoretical essay)

My friends, it pains me beyond expression to inform you that one of our own has fallen. Chiewelthap Mariar, a 26 year old Sudanese refugee and UFCW member at District Local 2, was killed in Guymon, Oklahoma on January 9th. He was murdered in cold blood by police on the shop floor after his supervisor called the cops to the meatpacking plant where he worked. Our union brother was shot dead at work, by the police, and our union representatives can unfortunately do little more than call for a federal investigation. A coworker of Mariar, who was fired for filming Mariar’s final moments, spoke to press:

“The worker claimed Mariar was fired from his job by a supervisor but was told by human resources to finish his shift. The worker said the supervisor who fired him [then] confronted Mariar on the shop floor after he was fired, and police arrived soon after to escort Mariar from the site. Seaboard Foods did… not refute this characterization of the situation. ‘I witnessed the entire thing, from when they started arguing with him until he was shot,’ said the worker. ‘He had a company-issued band-cutter in his hand. When the police got to the plant, the guy was already working, minding his own business.’ The worker provided cell phone footage leading up to and following the incident, where Mariar can be seen… working around other employees and being confronted by officers on the shop floor. The worker claimed employees were told to keep working after the incident occurred. ‘I worked in maintenance. All they had us do was cover the scene with plastic, and we proceeded to finish what was on the production line,’ the worker added. ‘This company fired me for recording the truth they were trying to brush under the mat. They never asked me if I was OK. It was my first time seeing a guy get killed – and then I get fired.’”[1]

Chiewelthap Mariar should still be here. Just like Tyre Nichols[2] should still be here, just like Adam Toledo,[3] and just like Tortuguita.[4] Our union brother, a worker, a 26 year old black man with his whole life before him, was cut down at his place of work while carrying out his assigned duties. His own boss made the telephone call that ended his life. And his union, our union, could not save him. Those workers who witnessed this heinous act didn’t even get the day off. Without the pressure of militant, radical, rank and file self-activity, the union officials can hardly do more than cry out, “Justice!” They are legal entities, state entities, and they have rules they must abide by if they wish to exist the next day. An investigation may come and some restitution pay may too. But if it comes, it will come too late.

In history, especially at its most critical hinge points, the workers are sometimes called to go beyond the limits of their union counterparts. But most of the time they simply want to get by. History is always calling us towards a greater bravery and a higher mode of living together, sometimes more loudly than other times, and yet more often than not we do not heed this call; we often can hardly hear it even when we try. The dire consequences for acting shine with the unmistakable clarity of the present and the promise of transcending that present can only be faintly discerned through the opaque mist of the future. So the workers look away and they finish their shift. And the union officials breathe a sigh of relief. This regrettable fact is not hard for us to understand. This is one side of the union. And these are the conditions of employment in America. We live in a country where you can be shot dead on the job for the crime of holding the tools of your trade. Killed because of a bureaucratic mix up, a Brazil-esque inconsistency in official instruction. And we know that in this country, being caught in such a mix up is all the more unforgivable in the eyes of the capitalist state if you are black.

Higher wages will not stop them from killing us.[5] Legally recognized bargaining power within a single company will not halt global pollution. It cannot stop war. And we are running out of time; we can all feel it. But the union is only hopeless when looked at as an end. This is not an end, but a beginning. The union can be the means by which we discover something about ourselves and about this world: that we are unfathomably more powerful together, that we don’t need the boss, that the new world exists right here in the old; the union can be the means by which we discover all of that, so long as we are open to finding it.

And this brings us to that other side of the union. It is more or less a hack “ultraleftist” talking point to say that the union is a capitalist institution. Anyone who thinks about it can understand that this is basically true. The union facilitates our smoother integration into the capitalist system. But at the same time, it is also the exact opposite. The union is the living embodiment of the cooperation, solidarity, and bottom up power that will become the basis for whatever better world comes next. The union is the form in which we combine our strength to take on the gods of this world; it is one rung in the ladder we build as we prepare to finally storm heaven itself.[6] Our very existence as a union, anytime we coordinate our activity, this is the living proof that a better world is possible. One day, this same cooperation and coordination will be generalized and it will be our only law. So we struggle for our union, even knowing that it will not save us today. We struggle anyway.

We build up strength and we gently nudge our friends awake because now is not a time for sleep. To sleep now is to die and let die. Chiewelthap Mariar was killed by the police at his job, in uniform, on the production line, and was represented in negotiations with his employer by UFCW District Local 2. What would you do if he was one of our coworkers? What would we do? We cannot sleep, we cannot go numb. Some day, perhaps sooner than we think, we will be presented with a choice: turn our heads away and go back to work or stare reality in the face and act with bravery, breathing new life into that dusty, dented, old word: solidarity.

NOTES

[1] Excerpts clipped from a recent Guardian piece: https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2023/jan/20/oklahoma-pork-plant-seaboard-foods-chiewelthap-mariar

[2] Tyre Nichols was stopped and beaten within inches of his life by Memphis Police on January 7th, 2023. He died from his injuries on January 10th. He was a talented skateboarder and photographer.

[3] Adam Toledo was a 13 year old boy who was murdered by Chicago Police on March 29th, 2021. His hands were raised high above him when the police opened fire.

[4] Tortuguita was a 26 year old, queer, environmental and anti-police activist who was assassinated by police in Atlanta, Georgia on January 18th, 2023. They were a militant defender of the forest, a genuine revolutionary, and a loving friend and partner to all who knew them.

[5] Fred Moten: “The coalition emerges out of your recognition that it's fucked up for you, in the same way that it's fucked up for us. I don't need your help. I just need you to recognize that this shit is killing you, too, however much more softly, you stupid motherfucker, you know?” See The Undercommons: Fugitive Planning and Black Study

[6] Karl Marx referred to the Paris Commune of 1871 as “storming heaven” in his book of working class history, The Civil War In France

[automatismoateo]

Is using the Lords name in vain in a workplace equal to making derogatory comments &amp; religious discrimination? via /r/atheism

Is using the Lords name in vain in a workplace equal to making derogatory comments & religious discrimination? I'm just after some advice & info about how to deal with this situation? I'm in Australia. My main question, is saying the Lord's name in vain in the workplace if there is a Christian around equal to Making derogatory comments or taunts about religion & religious discrimination? & please let me know if I should post it in a more suitable subreddit? In our workplace I'm a supervisor we have a mid 50yr old male operator who is a "born again Christian", self proclaimed "ex tough guy", says he has "dangerous friends", he's extremely sensitive, takes offence to everything, constantly getting in arguments & 'fights' with people, thinks the world revolves around him, everyone is out to get him & is not the sharpest tool in the shed... He has a big problem with people who say the Lord's name in vain. He usually pulls up most people when they say Jesus, God, Christ, Omg 'Jesus butt fucking christ' etc. Says "Hey you don't say that! That's offensive to me!"🙄 God it shits me 🤦 I grew up Catholic & went to a Christian Fundamentalist school but as an adult became Atheist, I have alot of knowledge & experience with Christianity. I'm confident I know A LOT More about Christianity than he does. He has let it be known to everyone that saying the Lord's name in vain is offensive to him & it's no different to saying homophobic slurs if there was a gay person around & they took offence to that! I disagree, I think it's completely different & nothing like homophobic slurs. I don't think it's something a Christian should be "offended" about. It's more about if a Christian was trying to spread the word of god, hears someone saying it, they feel they should should let the person know it's a sin to say that, it's one of the 10 commandments to not say the Lord's name in vain, they need to ask for forgiveness from God or they could go to hell. I could be wrong but I really don't think it's something a Christian should be offended about? Last week, in the morning prestart meeting, I wrote G.O.D. (general operational duties) on the board, everyone on my team knows what it means & has no issue with it. The next day after we left site, he saw G.O.D. written on the board, didn't know what it stood for, no one else in the room seem to know either, he was offended, He's now made a complaint to my boss. Im not worried about the complaint, once I explained to my boss that G.O.D. stands for General Operational Duties he said Oh... ok.... Fair enough... ok... Ah... I guess just be careful of acronyms?... Here's his complaint email; At the afternoon daily debrief meeting, I was asked by numerous work colleges when walking into the meeting did I write in the Job task section G.O.Duties and if so what does that involve? My reply was definitely not and I don’t know who did . All I and everyone in the meeting could see was the word G.O.D. Yourself and I talked about this ( Religion Discrimination ) and i emailed you the clarification that you requested Standards of Behaviour ( Making derogatory comments or taunts about religion). It’s disappointing that the supervisors in the prestart did not pick up on the act of discrimination . This needs to stop, diversity and inclusion is about respect, valuing difference and recognising patterns. Thoughts? My boss said this shouldn't usually be an issue but the fact that he has brought it up to be an issue to him makes it an issue. If he says it's offensive then it is offensive... What do you think? tldr; Is saying the Lord's name in vain in the workplace equal to Making derogatory comments or taunts about religion & religious discrimination? Submitted November 11, 2024 at 11:50AM by velp28 (From Reddit https://ift.tt/25k31fG)

[hearsaybruja]

Work Day One

Okay so, I haven't worked in a couple months because my mom has cancer, and she started her Chemotherapy treatments again. Originally, I took 2 months off for Paid family leave but I was told I can take a month off, so I quit my job. (More context, I am traumatized because my sister died a slow horrific death over the course of 3 weeks, to you guessed it, Cancer.)

I now started my first day at my job as a cashier at a concert venue. I am employed through a contracted company (which was my other job as well, I hate contracted companies) and I think that's why everything is so unorganized and shitty.

The management is not organized, I accidentally worked in another building because I misread a sign in paper, and no one noticed the whole shift. I got looked at crazy when I asked when my 10 minute breaks were.

ToT

and to top everything off I found out that this fuck ass kid is a supervisor, he called someone a faggot as joke and to be taken srsly in my masculinity, all I could muster was "aye, calm down" with a stern as face.

It ended early because I wanted to go home. This seems like a waste of my time truly, I am waiting to see what the tips come out to because, it was horrible experience. The other take away that I got was - there is something about work that does feel as old as time, my bones did yearn to do something outside of myself, contribute to something else with strangers. There was something that lit up inside me as well, the tiredness that comes from wanting to be home instead of being exploited at a job site. This feelin I know too well, I can feel as my dad walks in the door from working a lifetime. I love my mom and dad.

[killing-time-w-kaz]

I was on IG and my friend posted this photo of a cat. And something in me just cracked.

I have no idea who this cat is but it looks identical to my Nausicaa who died in august.

I forgot how hard grief can hit when you’ve been holding it back. It just plows through. Especially when all of it is held in the same corner of my heart.

And I carry a certain guilt around her death. I wasn’t able to be there when she was put to sleep, because I had gone back to school just days before and there was no way for me to make it back in time. I was on the phone when it all happened, it felt so disconnected. I refused to let my grief consume me, since I need to stay on top of my college work.

And when I was able to go back home for fall break, I couldn’t grieve for my cat because I was barely holding it together after October 7. I broke down in tears when one of my professors had asked if I was doing okay, because she noticed I wasn’t anywhere as energetic as I should be in an archaeology museum.

And I was in the middle of my senior seminar when my parents told me Nausicaa finally came home. It was a miracle I didn’t start crying in class after seeing her box of ashes sitting next to her favorite spot in the apartment (and yes, Ponyo did try to sit on her box). Which brings up more buried grief.

I grew up with two cats, Isabel (the mostly white cat w gray spots) and Phoenix (the mostly gray cat with the old man). They were my mom’s cats, but I was very attached to them and it broke my heart when Phoenix died 4 days before my 11th birthday.

I never had time to fully grieve her death because my grandfather died a month later. And I carry a guilt over his death because the last thing I ever said to him was “I will see you next weekend”. And he died 3 days later while I was performing in a school concert. I refused to go see him at the funeral home, the image of Phoenix dying in the vet table was too fresh in my mind. And so I never truly had the chance to say goodbye to him. I don’t know where his ashes are. All I know is that he and my grandmother will be buried together when she dies—I am scared of the day she does. And that September, my grandfather’s nephew also died, and I wasn’t able to make it to his funeral because I had to go on a school sleepover trip.

I got Ponyo and Nausicaa in November 2013, so they briefly overlapped with the ancient Isabel. She liked Nausicaa, as seen in the photo above. She was 19 when we had to put her to sleep in December 2013. And I covered the loss of all four family members with the two new kittens. Isobel’s ashes rest on the bookshelf next to the window, where Nausicaa now also rests.

I was organizing my parents’ old photos when I came across the photo of Phoenix and Grandpa—I felt a pang in my heart when I saw it. And shortly after I went through those photos, I left for Portugal to do field work. I left two healthy, 10 year old cats at home. And on the last day of the field session, while we were breaking down site, I missed a call from my mom:

When I got to town, I broke away from my teammates to take the call. And that’s when I found out that my sweet girl had suddenly gotten cancer, which was moving so fast and aggressively. At first I tried to hide from the remaining archaeologists, because I couldn’t let myself be seen breaking down in the middle of town. But that completely failed when I got to the lunch table. And my supervisors and teammates were understanding—I still laugh fondly at their attempts to comfort me (that’s a story for later).

But it was devastating thinking that my little cat was dying an ocean away. But she held on for the week—my parents came out to join me in Portugal, leaving her with a family friend who took very good care of her. And she held on for two more weeks once we got back. It was exactly 21 days from when I got the first phone call to the last video call. But in the end, I still wasn’t able to be with her in her last moments. I had a shift at my job that I couldn’t skip and I was visiting my grandma the next day. I gave myself the weekend to grieve, then I threw myself into my part time job, school work, and social life. And in short succession, a very old family friend had a stroke and died, another family friend died after a steep mental decline, and a friend/colleague of my parents (who I knew) lost his fight with cancer.

And I often feel like I have to be the strong one in my friendships. And when October 7 came, I found myself holding my friends as they broke down. And Jewish underclassmen know they could always come to me if they need a hug or a shoulder. My campus best friend and I have adopted an absurd number of underclassmen this way, some of them even refer to us as their “mothers”. But I never took time for myself. I work the most hours at the bookstore, partially so I don’t spend time just with my thoughts.

And seeing that photo on IG brought all these emotions back in a flood. I just needed to put them somewhere so they don’t continue to eat away at me. The more I tell these stories, the less they hurt. So thank you for listening

[roguejanitor]

Factions

The Job site was made up of a multi-level parking garage in the downtown area near a popular shopping center. The company we'll call "Super Parking Company" is in charge of cleaning the garage, doing cashier work and has been on the site for about 7 years at this point. That being said, it was far from the first. Heck, when I first showed up, they had just changed over and still had the old company logo around in some places still before painting over them that week. Most of the Janitorial Maintenance staff had been there for many years since they kept the same staff between change overs and could list off the companies that were there before the current one. No clue why they changed so much before this one.

In the parking garage the employees could be broken up into three groups. These groups were surprisingly not even remotely clicky despite having every reason to be. But that is my bias against humanity showing.

Maintenance - Official title "Janitorial Maintenance" and my group. We do 97 percent of the cleaning and light landscaping with a a few OSHA violations sprinkled in. The title of maintenance is used to basically get us to do pretty much anything the supervisors/managers ask. So, your job any given day could vary from, sweeping, replacing garbage bags of the older then gospel garbage cans, weed whacking with out a face guard to directing traffic or acting as a replacement Cashier. Speaking of...

Cashiers - They stay at the entry gates to the garage in little old booths that wouldn't be out of place in a Fallout game. They help people without enough problem solving skills to pull a ticket or unfortunate enough that the "system" decided today their monthly member card has the value of the one you'd get from Gamestop. These guys and girls outside of two people have a tendency of being swapped out a lot because of schedule shuffling... but mostly firing. Firing because they can't stay in the goddamn booth for some reason. They also tend to bond with security. If one isn't there for more then a day, someone on security will ask about them. No, its not them being thorough at their job. Friendly folk overall.

The Office - The puppeteers, the masterminds, but most importantly the punching bags of the Client. They are made up of the Supervisors of the Cashiers, Maintenance, the Event supervisor and The Site Supervisor. Just like the cashiers, they get swapped out plenty, mostly due to cash theft. If one were to be the most clicky its them. This is mostly because they spend less time with the other groups since Janitors will pass by Cashiers if they are even pretending to do their job. The Office people will just be in the office for 8 hours or more on computers taking calls from customers and telling the janitorial staff if they got a report of roadkill somewhere and the like. Must be nice- actually, now that I think about it, they deal with the most drama between them as individuals. I remember one of my Managers who was newer at the time complaining about how they are always at each others throats. Makes me wonder about the claims of theft...

[aa-carnivorousfatality]

tw: vent under the cut.

I am legit so fed up with this planet sometimes. I swear. For those that don't know, I am a college student in PA. And due to a program I was in prior screwing me over, I do not have a valid State ID. It expired a while ago. I have checks from my old job, but no way to cash it. Cause of no ID.

I did reapply for food stamps. And the lady needed my FAFSA information. Not a problem. Or shouldn't be, right?

Nah. This lady fucked me over. I did not know where on the portal to find what she needed. ( This is my first time attending college. I am not familiar with everything on the FAFSA site ).

So, she would send me to my campus Finical aide office. Cause she told me not even she knew. She said she was new to this. So I would go. Ask questions. Go back to her and explain. She would send me back. They would send me back. This went on for a few MONTHS.

And then she stopped answering my calls. And stopped returning them. i finally had enough, and contacted the supervisor. Now, I can understand if my agent was like. New or never worked with FAFSA before. And I thought that may be the case. Does not excuse the unanswered calls. But I could get the confusion.

Nah. She knew. Her boss said she has helped plenty of college students before. That she isn't normally like this. Her boss checked my app and said I would have to REAPPLY.

I was annoyed but I said okay. It would be a pain, BUT i would manage. But it only gets worse.

The lady then said, due to PA recently changing things around, that as I am now.

I do not qualify. I am a college student that has no income. And I do not qualify for FOOD STAMPS. Unless I am in a program that I have to jump through even more hoops to work with. Only then will then look at my app and put it through.

I am just. So exhausted. lmfao.

[leam1983]

Wrath

I just called my paratransport service for tomorrow. I'm heading in to work, and then hailing a cab back. I can't let this simmer on Slack, this needs to be said in-person.

Walt came in after work looking utterly destroyed. I tried to get some details while offering comfort, but it took me all of three hours to get him to open up. When he did, the floodgates I'd never known were there opened.

Walt bawled in my arms, tonight. He cried so hard my parents heard it through our shared wall and eventually called, to ask what was going on.

He didn't lose his job. He's fine in this respect. What happened is he visited a particular Honda dealership I've known to be helmed by a pair of Dudebro douchecanoes and A-grade homophobes. The morning went alright, seeing as Walt doesn't exactly present as gay, if such a thing were possible. I've described him before: on the cusp of his sixties, dumpy, large, a great big ball of grinning friendliness with a thing for three-pieces, pocket squares and even the occasional fob watch - and not the kind of guy you'd rattle easily, especially not with slurs.

He slipped, at some point. He had a pic of me set at his phone's wallpaper, and the idiots got to talking. They first mistook me for his son, then probed further ahead over the afternoon.

The way he says it, something changed the moment they figured it out. What Walt first interpreted as clumsy attempts at allyship (Straights pulling "yaaas" or the occasional "Werk!") turned into a barrage of innuendo, which was sort of interwoven with the idiots' attempts at undermining the sale he was on-site to handle.

What got to him was the eight botched client meetings they caused, always with a piece of innuendo stating that "someone like him" shouldn't bother. He got terse, got mad, tried playing into their schtick to annoy them - and he then learned that the fuckers had cancelled the sale entirely, just a few minutes before the day would've ended.

They pushed, and pushed, and pushed. Exactly like Walt's ex.

I did my best to console him, then called up my supervisor, telling him I was coming in tomorrow not for a shift, but to lodge a formal complaint against that dealership. He tried to tell me to avoid "exaggerating what had happened".

I'm not one to explode, personally. That's Walt. If he'd been mano-a-mano with the fuckers in his own office, he would've given them a piece of his mind. I, on the other hand, go icy when I'm pushed.

"Walter's a valued member of this company, John. If you value his input, you will write me in tomorrow morning. You will take my deposition and forward it to the Lists controller. I do not want anyone to be taking or making any goddamn calls for these fuckers for all of February. They are not worthy of our expertise, our time, or our man-hours. If the bosses have any issues with this, they'll find me at my old cubicle. I'm staying on-site until all the day's lists are properly migrated, then I'm hailing a cab back home."

John tried to cut in three times. I didn't let him.

"Walt never complains, John. He never bitches, never moans, never comments. He bawled in my arms like a scared child, John. They reopened wounds Sarah and I will need days to mend, without mentioning the PTO I might be forced to take."

That's when it sunk in. It was either this or I SSHed into the fuckers' private stack and nuked their campaign files for all of 2023. This, or I Syskeyed their entire Accounting floor in a few keystrokes. This was me at my most civil.

"Dang," he said, once again showing the average spinal composition of a piece of soggy toast, "that sounds serious..."

I scoffed. "Count yourself lucky I don't hobble my own ass over to Côte-de-Liesse on my own and cane the fuckers like I'm Edward Hyde or fucking Scrooge."

I hung up and then joined Walter and Sarah in the kitchen.

"I might fold with a stiff wind and sidewalks might scare me, but I won't let anyone hurt either of you. Ever. I love you both enough to go Black Hat if it ever comes to it."

Walt all but crushed me against him, only freeing one hand to clutch Sarah's like a death vice, with eyes gone too wide with sorrow, panic and fear - and a trembling lip I hope I'll never see again.

I hope John caught the inference. The job doesn't really matter to me in the grand scheme of things. If someone associated to them hurts my loved ones, I'll show them exactly why I identify with the Brain Gremlin. By the time I'm done, there won't be anything left of their stocks, customer lists and planned campaigns - except maybe modded BIOS loops involving ASCII art that spells out I hope you fuckers choke on it.

[freshwitchgladiator]

hm

[ootahime]

what is utahime’s role in the future? — a prediction (manga spoilers)

part 1 (unedited)

I WAS ABOUT TO POST IT BUT I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED IT AND I WAS SO HURT FR!!!!! I HAD REWRITE THIS ENTIRE THING </33

part 2 is here!

in this post, i will be analyzing the information we’ve been given about utahime so far to form a prediction about her future role in the jujutsu kaisen series. if you’re as interested in utahime’s character as i am, please feel free to keep reading :3 (i’ll also be talking about her relationship with gojo a bit too)

soukatsu_ on twt!

kaikaikitan on twt!

utahime iori is a semi-grade 1 sorcerer working as a student supervisor/teacher at kyoto jujutsu high school. she loves drinking beer and going to karaoke. she’s also close friends with shoko and she’s not particularly fond of gojo most of the time. what else do we know about her?

hates sweets (funny she’s the complete opposite of gojo)

she’s great at singing and it’s a huge part of her technique

squabbling with gojo became a reflex :3

everyone absolutely adores utahime

loves watching soccer and baseball

a terrible drunk (worse than naobito zenin)

gojo is her main source of stress

let’s dive into her personality and abilities!

chapter 65

before i get into it, i think it’d be best if i were to explain the timeline because a lot of people seem to be confused about this one particular thing. utahime is born on february 18th, 1987. contrary to popular belief, she is not 3 years older than gojo. it is november 2018 in the story because gojo was sealed on halloween. if gojo was born on december 7th, 1989, that would mean that right now, he is only 28 years old. he has yet to turn 29.

the year is 2007. gojo satoru is a second year at tokyo jujutsu high school. the japanese school year begins in april which suggests that gojo is only 17 at the time (even if it’s not april, it doesn’t look like winter yet so it’s unlikely that he’s already 18). utahime is 20 because it is past february. she is a 2nd grade sorcerer at the age of 20. that’s not bad at all!

chapter 65 introduces young utahime and mei on a mission together within a cursed site. in real time, they’ve been gone for two days which is a cause of concern for gojo, shoko, and geto because the two haven’t contacted anyone since the beginning of their mission.  the two begin to suspect something is wrong because the hallway markers they’ve set in place disappeared, and no matter how far they travel within the halls, the end is nowhere in sight.  mei theorizes that the cursed spirit is overlapping the space as they travel forward.  utahime agrees with this speculation and proposes a plan to escape the cursed spirit’s grasp by moving erratically.  notice how she says that if one of them should escape, they can try to attack from the outside or call for help.  if utahime was not capable of inflicting damage on anything then she would have told mei to escape and attack if she can while she waited to be rescued.  however, she didn’t.  she included herself in the sentence which leads me to believe that she is capable of going on the offense if needed.  

keep in mind that at this point in time, mei is a grade 1 sorcerer.  she is knowledgeable about all things involving jujutsu because she is experienced and skillful.  we can see this aspect of her character illustrated when she theorizes that the cursed spirit is messing with the space they’re in.  she chooses to go with utahime’s plan because she agrees that it’s the best action moving forward.  this verifies that utahime is an intelligent girl that’s able to get along with pretty much anyone.  

her intellect is demonstrated once again in chapter 79.  she was able to deduce the possibility of there being more than one traitor and the fact that one is probably a higher up.  she also narrowed down the mechamaru as the mole of kyoto not because he was acting suspicious but by process of elimination.  she thought thoroughly of his technique and how easy it would be for him to manipulate devices small enough to be undetectable.  

sure you can argue that she should already know all her students’ abilities and whatnot but you have to admit that it’s hard trying to sniff out the traitor when no one is acting suspicious.  in addition to that, how did she know that there was a traitor in the top brass?  i would have never guessed that tbh LOL (maybe bc im an idiot).

okay, now that we have established that she’s intelligent, let’s answer a more important question.  is utahime weak?

chapter 33

if gojo calls utahime weak, does that mean there is some truth to it?  well it is true that she is weaker than him because he’s the strongest and all.  in my opinion, he’s just teasing her.  he probably found that calling her weak is what really riles her up.  maybe i’ll talk about why he loves teasing her so much in a later post.  but anyway, gojo calls everybody and their mom weak.  he even said jogo was weak and we know how powerful that guy is.  gojo’s words alone do not indicate much about utahime’s power.  in fact, i don’t even think he has seen her use her technique yet.  he’s probably only ever heard of how it works.  this is what i think their conversation about her technique was like:

gojo: hm?  ur cursed technique is singing?  can u show me?

utahime: what!  no way!  

gojo: why not?

*one of the classmates tells him that she can only use her CT once in a while because it consumes a lot of energy*

gojo: hahaha!  u have to conserve cursed energy to use ur CT?  why are u so weak, utahime?

utahime: i!  am!  your!  senpai!  respect!  me!

what i’m trying to say is that gojo loves poking fun of people.  we should not believe him when he calls someone weak because compared to him, everyone is weak.  

this is a little off topic but let’s examine him telling her, “and you don’t have the nerves, utahime.”  i think he’s trying to say that there’s no way she’ll ever do something like that because she’s not the type to put her students in danger.  remember the soft expression and relieved smile on her lips when she said that she was glad the students were safe after the kyoto incident?  gojo was directly in front of her so not only did he hear her say that, but he could have seen the look on her face too.  even if he told her that she didn’t have the guts to betray the school to get on her nerves, he knew that utahime simply cared too much about the students so he ruled her out as a suspect right away.  this is why he ultimately decided to confide in her and ask her to help him.  

i’m a person who loves over-analyzing things.  i really enjoy the dynamic between gojo and utahime.  they’ve known each other for more than 11 years and although they always bicker, there is an unspoken feeling of trust between the two.  gojo can do anything and everything by himself because he is truly the strongest person alive, but he still knows when to rely on others.  him deciding to entrust utahime with such a job implies that he believes in utahime’s abilities.

chapter 52

she’s not using any cursed energy here--not to our knowledge at least.  this is just pure skill.  she was able to swiftly evade the swing from haruta.  he was surprised himself considering the fact that he was right behind her.  how do we know her CT isn’t speed?  after haruta swung at her, we can see that some of her hair got cut off.  if she was using her CT then speed should be her specialty.  she should have been able to completely avoid the attack altogether but she didn’t.  of course this isn’t a wow moment because jujutsu sorcerers should know how to dodge attacks, however, i’m just trying to get the point across that she’s not a defenseless person without her technique or others.  let’s not forget that semi-grade 1 isn’t a weak rank either.  you can’t simply be recommended to be a grade 1 sorcerer if you only can support others.  

chapter 48

i want to bring up this panel. it suggests that utahime and takuma are sorcerers who have not experienced black flash and therefore, do not understand the essence of cursed energy as well as those who have like gojo and nanami.  i find it strange how takuma and utahime were used to represent sorcerers who haven’t experienced it yet.  is the purpose to demonstrate that there is a clear difference in skill between adult sorcerers like utahime and takuma compared to gojo and nanami?  i could be nitpicking but the order of todo’s statement doesn’t line up with the sorcerers being shown.  let me explain in depth.  todo starts off by saying, “for those who have experienced black flash as compared to those who have not...” wouldn’t it make more sense to show gojo and nanami on the right side to represent sorcerers who have experienced black flash?  that was mentioned first, after all.  gojo and nanami should appear when todo says “for those who have experience black flash” while utahime and takuma should be shown right after to personify the second part, “as compared to those who have not.”  i’m just making it more complicated than it actually is LOLOL i’m sure it really just means they haven’t experienced black flash yet, which is completely fine.  i also find it fascinating how they used utahime to contrast gojo.  with nanami and takuma it makes sense.  nanami is someone takuma looks up to, he wants to gain nanami’s approval before he deems himself worthy of a promotion. what about utahime and gojo?  what’s the purpose of comparing those two together when it’s obvious that gojo knows more about the essence of cursed energy more than anyone else?  i might be delusional whoops

----

let me know what you guys think?  this is only a part 1 so i haven’t gotten around to answering the question.  i’m pretty much done with the second part, i just need to revise it a little.  i think after i post part 2, i’ll try to interpret all the gojo and utahime moments in the manga >.<

[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.” 

[taking-over-his-life]

I wanted to be a biker, and my new job gave me a chance Ill never forget

I had just been successful at getting a promotion as a station manager to one of the central logistics hubs. The company had a range of logistics services including parcel delivery by van, specialist delivery by motorbike, and special link to the airport for customs clearance. I was really excited about it as it was only 5 miles from my house, and it was the first opportunity to manage 100 staff that was based at this site.

 My office was on the first floor and had a window that looked out over the main logistics centre, so I could see people coming and going on bikes and in vans.    

 In my first months I spent the time to get to know the management, supervisors and staff, or as many as I could. I spent a bit of time in the staff restaurant with the men and women that work there.

 I took special interest in the motorcycle courier section as I had a general interest in the bikes as well as those who rode them. They were out in all weathers and it showed on their leathers, and faces, well worn and when you got close you could also smell their gear. It took all my will power to keep my hands off them. I watched them in the smoking area in groups, laughing and horsing about with each other. 

 I was stuck up here doing the planning. Damn they seemed so happy so free. I watched as they came in from the rain, and put their drenched leathers over the radiators in the locker room. The smell wafted upstairs upsetting the women in the admin pool. I said I'd sort it, but damn I loved it. 

 I went down so they thought I was dealing. There were two guys in the locker room were in their undies, fuck I nearly came. ‘You ok guys’, I said. ‘Fucking soaking’ one replied, the other kept his head down. ‘Well get dry before you go out’. I said ‘Do we not supply waterproofs’ I said, ‘yes but forgot them’ he said. I walked out with a nose and lung full of that masculine smell. You would often find me down there during the day to get to know the guys.

 After a couple of months it was time for me to check out the night shift.

 There were a number of people I had not met, plus I wanted to see how the shifts worked. I checked in advance, and there was one controller who was at the far side of the complex, two drivers and 1 motorcycle courier who were working that night shift. 

 I arrived at about 1 am, and went straight to my office to do a little bit of work before I introduced myself to those on duty.

 I decided to go in nice and tidy, and wear a suit. After about 30-minutes I went downstairs, and decided to go straight to the control room. There was a guy in it called Dan. He got a bit of a shock that I was there, but I had a good chat with him and asked where the drivers were. 

 Both are out on jobs but they would be back in about 2 or 3 hours. I said I would let him know if I was still here when they got back. I would also let him know when I was leaving. 

 I asked about the courier and he said he would be in the crew room which was under the admin block right at the other side of the complex. There was nothing scheduled for him that night he was just on standby for emergencies.

 I walked over to the crew room. It was about 5-minutes walk from the control room. Dan had to stay in control room to man the phone and the radio so I knew it was only me and the biker on that side of the building

 It will be interesting to meet him. It was about 3 a.m. I had a boner which is normal for me at night, I just somehow had to keep it hidden so a little bit of adjustment and I felt more comfortable.

 It was going to be interesting to see how he reacted when the boss arrived. I was always professional so didn't see it as a major problem for myself 5 minutes conversation and I'll be back upstairs and could have a real good wank.

 I went into to crew room and there was no one there that I could see, so I went around the other side by the kitchen just to see whether he was there there was no one there.  I decided to go out into a corridor and go into the locker room, it's always something I enjoy, as the smell of guys leather boots old clothes damp clothes so erotic. 

 I pushed the door open and to my shock I saw the courier on the bench in between the lockers wearing his off-road boots, leather jeans and a black T-shirt. His Boots were on the back of two seats with his hand on his dick wanking furiously.

 What shocked me is how much he was so into it, he neither heard nor saw me. I stood there getting so excited rubbing my own groin. He opened his eyes and jumped when he saw me. ‘Don't move’ I said really loudly,’keep going you need to release’. 

 He put his hand back on his dick and smiled at me, ‘you want to help’ he said beckoning me over. I did and walked over to him I got down on my knees and moved my head towards his erect dick and swallowed his shaft licking and sucking as I moaned with delight.

 My hands were on his leathered thighs, and I could feel his muscles under the warm leather. His gloved hands came over and pushed my head down so the top of his dick was at the back of my throat, I just moaned with absolute delight.

 I was inbetween his legs tasting his premium smelling his leathers and feeling the warmth of his body through the leather was just incredible.  I looked up at him pulled away from his dick, ‘upstairs’ I said, ‘I'm your new manager’ I said. He gulped and smiled, ‘ok sir’ he said. He stood up and I saw him better, ‘nice’ I said. He grabbed my ass, ‘I'd like a piece of that’. He followed me upstairs and into the admin area. I locked the door.

 That was it. We both let go of every inhibition.  We were all over each other in each others mouths ass nothing was left untouched. He took off his T to reveal a tattooed torso. I licked at those pecs and then enjoyed the days old stink from his pits, licking them clean.

 Off came his boots and socks. My head went straight into the boots pulling his foot stink into my nose and lungs. It was hypnotic, the socks were unbelievable, male hormone leather and foot smell. I decided to pull off his leather jeans. He was wearing thermals underneath. It wasn’t long before I had them off him and against my nose. He followed quickly by stripping me naked,after that it was body against body.

 He was lying on the sofa legs apart when I decided to stand over him and lower my ass onto that huge dick. He held my waist and guided me on. In seconds he was in me. Pushing hard as I bobbed up and down. I knew he was close due to the breathing and clenched my ass muscles, he came floods in side me, grunting and moaning

 I collapsed on top of him and cuddled in. He did the same. 

After 10 mins or so he got up and went to sit at my desk.  ‘Feels good’ he said, ‘how do I look?’

 I smiled at him picked up my briefs, and threw them at him. ‘You need to dress the part,’ I said. I walked over to him put my hand on his balls and said ‘but first let's get this off you’.

 I went to his dick and removed his cock ring, putting it on my own dick and balls, then the silver neck chain over his head and onto mine then his rings. 

 ‘Better dress the part’ he said.  He rushed to pull my briefs over his dick and balls, then the vest. I passed him my shirt trousers, socks, shoes and jacket, and watched him as he dressed. He was so excited.

 ‘How do you feel ‘I said, as he rubbed himself all over,’ just perfect’ he said with a smile on his face. ‘I’m the boss now and I need a biker’s dick in my ass. I want to take it over my desk’.

 I was taken aback but an offer like that can’t be refused. I moved toward him dick erect. I said ‘I’m a biker’, he said ‘put your gear on first’.

 I didn't need to be told twice and so his thermals went on my legs over my butt and encased my dick. The socks were next followed by the leather jeans. I zipped them up, felt them I was so damn horny. Then the trail boots filthy from wear went on went both my feet and got buckled up.

There was only his BO stenched black T which I pulled over my head. I was the biker now.

 ‘So boss’ I said ‘get you ass over here’. He stood up came round the desk and started to kiss me. I spun him around put my hands around his waist and undid his belt, unzipped him and let his pants fall down. I pulled down his briefs and undid my leather jeans manoeuvred my dick through the thermals pushed him face first down onto his desk. His ass was in the air. I slowly pushed my dick head against it and slowly and gradually moved in up to the hilt. I started to pull in and out then faster becoming more violent.

 He moaned in ecstasy. I was so hot I could smell his scent mingling with mine from the T shirt, and suddenly I just burst and cum flowed into his guts as I totally emptied my load. I dropped on top of him. Held him, and pulled out.

 He was just elated as was I. He pulled up the trousers and sat at my desk. 

‘Fucking incredible man I could enjoy this office, being the boss’, he said.,  ‘go get your jacket, helmet, gloves and reflective from the locker room biker man, then come back up and service your boss’ he said.  ‘They are on the bench’.

 ‘Yes boss’ I said, which excited him. I went down to the locker room, loving the feel of his jeans and boots.

 The rest of his gear was there. I pulled on his fleece which stunk of sweat, then the leather jacket. Zipped myself in and attached it to the jeans.  Fuck it felt good. His hi vis tabard and radio were next, and then I pulled his helmet over my head, and then started to pull, on the gloves. 

 Suddenly the door burst open.  I jumped, ‘Where the fuck have you been Dave’ Dan the controller shouted, ‘get the fuck on that bike Dave, I have an urgent pick up’. He gave me a ticket. ‘Get a fucking move on he screamed’.

 I had no choice I grabbed my gloves and headed out to the bike. He believed I was Dave. 

 The keys were in it. I started it up, entered the details into the sat nav pulled on the gloves and rode off

 It was about 4am, freezing cold and the rain was belting down. Ages since it rode a bike but his gear felt so warm and soft on my skin. I rode for 30mins feeling more erotic, and more at home in his gear. I walked in as a courier and picked up a parcel the guy gave me. He gave me an address for delivery. I put it in the satnav and headed off for the delivery. Before I did it I called into control to let Dan know.

 Before I set off, I got a call from the real Dave. ‘Where the fuck are you’ he said. I explained. ‘What do I do’ he said ‘people will arrive in a couple of hours.’ He was shit scared.  ‘Go to my place .car keys in top drawn it’s the BMW outside. I gave him my address. I was due to be off for a few days.

 It was 530 when it delivered the parcel. I was soaked, but it was so damn sexual and the smell from his gear incredible. The leathers were so tight on me must be the rain I thought.

 I reported to control. I was off at 6 so they told me to go home. I was exhausted

 It was two hours to my place. I was soaked the weather was worse. I wondered where he lived. I rang he answered 

 ‘I'm fucking soaked and freezing’ I said in a gruffer voice than normal, must be the cold. , ‘welcome to my life man’ he replied. ‘I’m in old street, where do u live I cant ride 2 hours in this rain’ I said, he replied. ‘Your ten mins away’ ‘Thank heavens, I’ll go to your place and come over to tomorrow’   ‘ok’ he said, he sounded different. 

 ‘Have u been drinking’ I shouted, ‘yep nice place here’ he said’ just be careful in my place’ I retorted ‘Great body’ he said, ‘what’ I responded, I didn’t know what he meant.  I felt the rain coming through on my chest, and my beard was rubbing on my helmet. Beard? I just put the thought away and headed to his place.

  I parked the bike and headed upstairs to the flat. I found the keys in an outside pocket of the soaked leather jacket. I got inside and started to undress. Helmet. Came off my head, I pulled the gloves off finger by finger, as they stuck to me. Totally sodden. The, soaked, jacket, was unzipped, and fell down my shoulders. Then the damp stinking fleece came away from my chest, then my BO covered t-shirt, I was naked on top and cold. I rushed to remove the boots, full of water; my feet were freezing, then my thermals and socks. I left them all n a pile in the hallway and headed to the bedroom. I saw the bed through the darkness and just jumped in.

 ‘Your fucking freezing’, came a shout from a woman. ‘Fuck’ I said. I pulled the duvet over my head and my ring caught in my hair, hair?  I curled up and she came over and wrapped herself around me. ‘Poor bugger’ she said ‘let's warm you up’. I was terrified she would notice I wasn’t Dave, but I felt best to just stay there and be quiet.  I felt her breasts against my back. Fucking hell, what is going to happen when she sees me and realises I'm not Dave. 

 It felt so good as she as she cuddled in. I went to sleep. The next minute, which must have been hours later, as it was daylight, she was sitting on the bed looking at me with a hot drink. I was shocked she accepted me. I took the drink and as I looked at my hands they were different tattooed, ‘fucking hell’ I said to myself. I put down the drink and walked naked to a mirror. I was shocked I was him it was his face his body. I felt his longer hair his beard, he was a hard biker. I could see the tats on my arms and chest, I was him, My dick started to harden as I felt myself. I liked it.

 ‘How, why’. I was stunned. She came and wrapped herself around me. ‘You still as gorgeous’ she said as she pulled me to the bed, pushed me down, and undressed.

 She was on me in seconds working my dick which responded. I felt her breasts and soon I turned her over and was fucking her for dear life.

 This new body responded to her touch feel and smell like nothing I've ever felt it was so erotic.

 I spent the rest of the day sleeping knowing that I had to get myself over to my own house that evening. The more time I spent in this body as Dave the more I liked it and I decided that maybe keeping it for a few extra days wouldn't harm anyone and will allow him a little bit of luxury in my place.

 She dropped off all of my leathers and so I took the opportunity of putting the same on and telling her I was going out for a ride.

 ‘Can I come’ she said. ‘yes babe’ I replied. I was starting to talk like him. Out came a cig and I started to smoke as I pulled on all my gear.  she disappeared to get ready and when she came out she was dressed head-to-toe in tight black leather with stilettos heels. I couldn't believe it she I couldn't believe it she was incredible. I grabbed her around the waist as we walked down to the bike. I was heading out into the country speeding all the way eventually stopping at a small coffee bar next to some Woods.

 We had something to eat and drink all the time she's rubbing her leg on mine under the table I felt it was time we took a walk the wooded area.

 When we got in there she started kiss me. I was a lot taller than her. So I lifted her up my placing my arms under her legs and pulling her upwards against the tree. She was now level with my face. I took my hand and unzipped her leather jeans which had its zip from back to front

 I was kissing her I gradually unzipped my leather jeans my erect dick pushing in her direction till I found her hole. I pounded her against the tree and she enjoyed every second moaning with Delight.

 I came deep inside of her we lay down on the ground and chatted she said that I seemed different. I asked ‘was good or bad?’ ‘very good ‘she said. after that we walked back to the bike and headed back to the flat

 I received a call from Dave. He told me how much you was enjoying his new richer life and would I be prepared to stay in his place for a little longer.

  I immediately said yes as I was quite enjoying the change he started to laugh

 I came to realise that the change was created by exchanging clothes and getting the sweat of the other person on me. I wondered if he had ever done this before. He told me it was a regular event between himself and his girlfriend. I was shocked, he had been her? He told me how erotic it was and how much she liked it. It was only his body that could do it.

  I couldn't believe what I just heard.  That night I asked her if she wanted to change and she said yes.  She loved to have a dick to fuck with again and so she began to gradually undress and I did the same.

 I took out a joint and had a beer in my hand as I sat and watched the show. She slowly and sensually started to undress. The bedroom was dimly lit and she was high. She sat on the floor in front of me and lifted one leg. Resting her stiletto boot on my knee. I moved forward and found the zip near her vagina and started to slowly pull it down to the sole of her boot, he leg slipped out. My nose immediately went into the boot.

 I did the same with the second one putting it to the side. She stood up in front of me as she turned around and asked me to untie the Basque. I did, it fell to the floor.

 My dick was just raging; I stood up and rubbed myself against her. ‘It will soon be yours Dave she said, ‘all yours’ you can then be fucked so hard. She rubbed her leathered hands over her huge ass and crotch. Smiling at me. ‘you want’ yes yes’ I said.

 ‘unzip me’ she said. I put my hand up to her neck and started to pull the zipper down on the one piece. Right down to her privates. I pushed the leather over her shoulders and unzipped the small zips at her wrists and pulled it off her arms it dropped open near her ass. She was wearing a leather bra, which was filled with her ample breasts.

 She sat on the bed, as I pulled the one piece past her ass and off her legs, I knew id be in it soon, and I was as hard as iron seeping precum.

She undid her stockings and rolled them down her legs throwing them as me. I caught them, then the suspender belt came off and now the leather knickers. ‘These are yours now’ she said. I lit any another joint, and keep drinking. ‘I want to be fucked in your body ‘I screamed.

 ‘Get you gear off man, its mine now’ she said ‘OK OK and I hurried to strip down naked. She smacked my dick and said ‘Ill be using that soon’,

 ‘help me off with my bra she said’. I undid the clasp and she pulled the leather bra off. Sit on the bed she said, and from behind me she put my arms through the bra, it rested on my chest too small for me but soon my chest began to change, it got smaller in girth and started to produce women’s breasts, that started to fill the bra. The nipples were so damn sensitive and I moaned as she fastened the clasp.

  She picked up her knickers and passed them to me and I put my leg through them and pull them up over my massive dick. It started to disappear and I became thinner as the knickers started to fall into place on my body. I was in an other world. She stood behind me and put the suspender belt on me, my hips changed to fit them. She then moved to the floor and put a stocking on my left foot which immediately reshaped itself and rolled them up attaching them to the belt. I couldn’t move or do anything it was like a permanent orgasm. She then did the other leg, and I could see I was now becoming her.

 She passed me her one-piece leather she had been wearing it was very tight on her and showed her ass. I put my legs into the leather and pushed my left leg down and it went in really easy because of the nylons.

 I could feel myself getting thinner and smaller and more curvaceous she came up behind me to help me to pull up the leather one piece so it was over my shoulders and I slid my new arms into it.  I then pulled the zip all the way up from my new vagina up past my new huge tits and up to my neck

 she then placed the Basque around my waist and started to lace it so it pulled my waist in making my ass look bigger it felt so so good. the rest was down to me as she was dressing in my gear.  I picked up this stilettos and with the right one I pushed my new foot into it and pulled it right way up to my waist I got hold of the zip and pulled it up.  I did exactly the same with the other leg.

 I picked up her leather jacket and gloves and pulled them on. Was this real, I felt all over my new body, the tight leather, inside was incredible the feelings.  

 I walked over to the mirror and I saw her reflection, not Dave’s I had changed places so what Dave had said was true. I sat down somewhat shocked enjoying the new experience and watching her dress as me and gradually her looks her body her size all changed she was now the new Dave.

 She (or he) wanted to go out on the bike again, this time to be in control to go to the same place and follow through with the same fuck session this afternoon, but she would be in control and I would be the one against the tree.

 I was more than happy to oblige, I wanted to know how it felt.  I followed him down to the bike, the new tight leathers rubbing my sensitive skin. Mt breasts we just so erotic as they moved in the bra and the leather knickers just slid backward and forward with my precum. I sat on the back for the first time and placed my arms around his waist. it was so sensual as I rested my breasts on his back

 What an incredible experience when we got there, he helped me off the bike holding my ass as we went into the woods. It wasn’t easy walking in stilettos so he held me close, This body was reacting. When we got to the tree, he gently rested me against it, kissing me as he rubbed my breasts. I had my leathered hand on his leather dick and gradually unzipped him and pulled it out. I licked his precum from my leather glove as we kissed.  His hands went in-between my legs and held my thighs lifting me off the ground so my vagina was opposite his erect dick, I pulled down my zip and pulled out my new breasts and then pushed the zip right down so it was opened right to my ass.

 the next minute his huge dick found the target, I was in ecstasy waiting for an experience no man has ever had. He started to push and his head slid into me, My head went backwards in ecstasy as he pushed it right up to the hilt. After that he was backward and forward in and out till he shots loads inside of me and I orgasmed.  my first female orgasm.

 The whole experience was incredible; I understand why these two do this regularly. No way was I going to give this up.

We rode home, stripped off, returned to ourselves and got absolutely drunk and drugged.

All this time the real Dave was texting me. I ignored it. He was wondering where I was. Fuck him; I’m not going back to what I was. I’m Dave and I’m not changing back.