#but the urge to show the finished piece to people won’t go away so I’m posting it

[theexhaustedqueer]

Contingency

The knock came at Anders’ door close to midnight. Quiet but purposeful, lacking both the hesitance you’d expect from someone nervous or lost and the loud aggression of someone coming to settle a score. It put him at ease immediately, though it really shouldn’t have. Anders had made more than a few enemies in his relatively short life, and nobody with good intentions went knocking on doors in the dead of night. Against his better judgement, Anders opened it anyway. 

The Voice of the Masked One had seen better days. Her hair was matted and greasy, like it hadn’t been washed or even brushed in some time. Under her eyes were the bags of someone who’d barely gotten any sleep for days on end, and she looked as gaunt and pale as she had that day not two weeks ago when she’d saved his life. Guilt coiled nauseatingly in Anders’ stomach once again. He should be the one looking like they’d just taken an extended vacation through the Nine Hells, not her. 

“Gods, Delphi. What are you doing here?”

Delphi closed her eyes and inhaled sharply. When she spoke, her voice was thin and wavering, nothing like the resoundingly confident speaker he’d come to know and respect. “Hello, Anders. May I come in?”

“Of course.”

The door swung open further and Delphi gingerly stepped inside. Anders winced at the state of the place as he closed the door behind her. His eyes took stock of first the mold creeping its way up the dirty dishes in his sink, then the dried blood crusted on his baseball bat, and finally the dark tinted glass of the bottles scattered haphazardly across the floor. He glanced up at her, waiting to gauge her reaction to the state of the life she’d given everything to save, and instead watched bewildered as she absently stepped over a shard of broken glass, eyes utterly vacant. She made her way to his ratty old couch and didn’t look twice at the prominent dark stain that Anders hoped was booze but could just as easily have been blood. She sat, still staring vacantly at the floor, and did not look up as Anders pulled up a chair so he could sit opposite her. But when he’d finally settled, knees scraping against the old wooden coffee table, she began to speak.

“I won’t beat around the bush as to why I’m here,” she said. “After what happened to you at the Dockyards, I went to investigate for myself.”

The dread that spiked through Anders at those words was akin to a dagger of ice plunged hilt-deep into his spine. “No.”

“Much has happened since then. I apologize for being away for so long, I can’t imagine that my absence has made anything easier for you. But it felt imperative that I dedicate myself to the search for answers.”

“Did you find any?”

“Some. This goes much deeper than I ever could have imagined, and every time I dig thinking I’ve hit the bottom, I only uncover more.”

“So, what does that mean?”

Delphi gave a resigned sigh through her nose. “It means I still have work to do.”

She then reached into the inner pocket of her jacket, and pulled out a small, leather-bound notebook. “There is a force behind all of this—  the sicknesses, the massacre, the cult. It is on its whims that the city turns and we are nothing more than flies caught in its web. This will all only come to an end when it does.”

“Are you… going to end it, then?”

“That’s the plan,” Delphi said, delicately running her thumb down the cover of her tome. “I will be returning to the Dockyards. To confront it, and, if the gods favour me, destroy it.”

Anders gulped. “Why are you telling me this?”

For the first time, Delphi’s gaze rose to meet his. “Because I have a very important task for you,” she said, extending the book out for him to take. “I need you to guard this. In it, I have recorded those answers that I have found. In the event that I fail, it may hold the key for someone else not to.”

Anders took the journal reverently in his hands. He didn’t bother flipping it open. He’d never properly learned his letters anyway.

“The information contained within poses a threat to those who benefit from it being kept secret. Their plans have been spun in secret for centuries, waiting until the right moment to enact them, and they will not hesitate to send their forces to bear against any who would stand in their way. For this reason, you must keep this from falling into the wrong hands.”

“Who should I give it to, then?” Anders asked. “You know I can’t read it.”

“If I am successful, you won’t have to pass it on to anyone.”

“But if you aren’t— if I’m supposed to be some sort of contingency plan, I need to actually know the plan. What about the other priests at the temple? Or Cecil! I’m sure they would—”

“No!” For the first time, Delphi’s voice rang out strong and steady. Silence reigned in the tense moment that followed her outburst. Eventually, she cleared her throat and tried again. “No, do not go to Cecil with this. They are the only person in my entire life who has ever compelled me to act in my own self-interest. Now, despite all my best efforts, I find it impossible to do otherwise. I will not allow Cecil to come to harm because of this, and I will be paying them a visit later in pursuit of that aim.” Delphi fingered a bulge in one of her coat pockets that Anders had up until then failed to notice. “Something that protected me in a moment of desperation. I can only pray it will grant them the same blessing.” She smiled mirthlessly. “As for the other priests, I have left a clue in the hands of one of my acolytes that I hope will lead them in the direction of something they may use to protect themselves against the coming threat. But if I am not successful, it would be foolish to think that they could be.”

“So who am I supposed to give this to?”

“The threat we are facing must be stopped at all costs. But I would not lightly send an innocent soul to their death for this cause. With any luck, I will be successful, and it will not matter anyhow.”

Anders grit his teeth, desperately trying to quell the surge of anger rising within him. “Just. Tell me what to do.”

Delphi looked away from him guiltily. “I do not wish for anyone to suffer and perish at the hands of this evil.”

“Except for you.”

“Pardon?”

“That’s what you’re doing, isn’t it? You keep talking about whether or not you’ll be ‘successful’, but you also keep saying things that make it seem like fighting this thing equals certain death. You don’t actually think you can win.”

Delphi narrowed her eyes at him and Anders shrunk back in his seat. “I am not certain if I will be victorious, but I’m not a fool. An evil this great can only be conquered with great sacrifice. And I would not judge the lives of any other to be of little enough value to merit such a fate.”

“So why is your life any different?”

Delphi smiled bitterly. “You sound like Cecil.”

“Fuck that! I sound like someone who cares about you! You’ve saved my life in more ways than one. You’ve saved hundreds of people in the same way. If anyone deserves to live, it’s you.”

“It is not about deserving. I do not ‘deserve’ to live any more than you. Or anyone. But the power I have been granted comes with an obligation to use it for good. I help people because it is my responsibility to do so. Consider this merely another act of that nature.”

“But you don’t want anyone else to do the same,” Anders said darkly. “You know someone will have to if you fail, but you don’t want it to be because of you.”

“That’s not—”

“You want me to have to pick, don’t you? You don’t want to choose who’s gonna have to die if you fail, so why not just pass off the responsibility to some asshole who’ll never do any good anyway?”

Delphi sat back, stunned silent, and Anders knew he was right.

“It’s not enough for you to go out in a blaze of glory, is it? Not enough to leave us all lost and devastated in your wake? No, you have to go out feeling like a big, damn hero. And you can’t do that if you’ve got blood on your hands.”

“Anders—”

“Well fuck you too,” Anders said, throwing the journal back down on the table between them. “You want to throw your life away? Fine. But mine’s not going to be the dumpster for all the shit you don’t want in yours.”

By the end of his rant Delphi’s eyes were wider than he’d ever seen them and, only for a moment, they shimmered, as if she were about to cry. 

Anders had to physically stop himself from reeling back. 

In all the time he had known her, Anders had never seen Delphi be anything other than perfectly composed. Oh, she was compassionate, certainly, and she knew to be ardent for her speeches. But her true emotions were never at the forefront. Anders had seen her comfort patients on their deathbeds, staying with them into the early morning hours until finally their lights went dark. He’d seen the way she broke the news to the families of people she hadn’t been able to save. He’d been there for her speeches, when she spoke of the injustices that had led to the slaughter of her people, her mother. In all that time, Anders had never once seen her shed a single tear. He wondered if there was anyone who had. 

It was gone not a moment later, as Delphi blinked away the glistening of tears with the speed of someone who had mastered it as a skill, but Anders couldn’t shake the feeling that what he had just seen was even more alien and wrong than the impossible maw that had very nearly swallowed him in the warehouse. A glimpse of something that could never be.

“Anders,” Delphi said again, softer.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to— I didn’t mean…”

“It’s alright,” she said steadily. “Anders, it is very important to me that you know I have no desire to place my burdens on you. I am aware of how dreadfully unfair it is to ask you to do this. But you’re right. I, selfishly, have no one else I am willing to turn to.”

It wasn’t as satisfying to hear her admit it as Anders had thought it would be. He sat back in his chair, cold creeping up his spine as Delphi tipped her head back, barely concealing the sorrow twisting her features. 

“It has been the sole request of my prayers that I am the only person harmed in this endeavour, but,” she said, giving a dry, humourless laugh, “my prayers haven’t exactly gone answered as of late. When I thought to give this to you—” she gestured to the book, “—it was with the hope that… if I failed… at least whoever takes up the fight in my stead will not have to go in blind, as I have done, so long as they can find the answers I left behind.”

“I should wait for someone to come to me, then,” Anders said. 

“I don’t know, Anders,” Delphi said mournfully. “If I disappear tonight, will anyone even know something’s wrong? Will they search for me for a few days, find nothing, and write me off as a lost cause? Will anyone care enough to keep looking? If we hedge our bets on someone taking up the cause on their own, do we doom ourselves? I just don’t know.”

“I… hate to suggest this, but would it be smart, if you don’t come back, to inform the city guard that there’s more to your disappearance? Just to get them looking in the right direction.”

Delphi shook her head. “The cult has its fingers in every inch of this city. Between their spies, assassins, and penchant for mind controlling people, there’s no telling where they could be. In the event that the city guard doesn’t dismiss my case out of hand, an unlikely occurrence as is, the second word of your involvement reaches their ears—”

“I’m already gone,” Anders said grimly. 

“Mm.”

“So there’s nothing we can do except hope someone, somehow, figures out I have your journal.”

“And that they do not seek it for foul reasons.”

Somber silence fell over them as the true hopelessness of the situation set in. 

“Could Cecil— I know you said you wouldn’t involve them,” Anders hastily added as Delphi’s expression soured, “but you know Cecil won’t take you disappearing lying down. They’re going to search for you no matter how hard you try to keep them out of this.”

Delphi pinched her eyes shut as grief and despair played across her face. “I wish it weren’t true.”

“So maybe… just tell them that your journal is out there. That it has the answers. Maybe they’ll do what we can’t. Find someone who could pull it off. And if you’re giving them something to protect them, like you said, maybe they’ll have a better chance.”

It was only because Delphi had been sitting so still before that Anders even realized she was shaking. “You have to promise you won’t tell them where I’ve gone.”

“Right, okay—”

“You have to. If they come to you, you can’t tell them where I’ve gone. Promise.”

“I promise.”

“Don’t let them get involved. If they find someone else to help, good. But you can’t let them get involved. You can’t let them try to follow after me.” 

“Delphi, I promise I’ll do my best. But I know Cecil and I’m not sure if I’d be able to stop them going after you if I tried.”

“Too bad, because you’re going to have to.”

“I… I’ll do what I can.”

“Good.”

With the matter settled, Delphi inhaled sharply and reached for the journal, now with purpose. 

“I may be able to do more to keep them off your scent,” she said as took it in her hands. She closed her eyes in concentration. “Normally I can only create a duplicate of myself, but… these are desperate circumstances. Masked One, grant me this one last miracle?”

As she uttered the prayer she reached up to her chest to grasp at a holy symbol that Anders only then noticed wasn’t there. She winced when she seemed to realize the same thing, and Anders blinked, shaken at the thought that she had lost it, or worse, gotten rid of it. What had happened to her?

Absent holy symbol aside, Delphi’s prayer seemed to work, because she handed the journal over to Anders, and as he took it from her, an identical copy of it stayed firmly in her grasp. 

“This one’ll dissipate in a few days,” Delphi explained, a smug smile creeping up her face. “Let them think they’ve won. Let them get complacent, thinking there’s nobody left to stop them. Then let them think they’ve been stolen from, that someone swiped it from right under their noses. Their plans may be intricate and wide-spanning, but that also makes them fragile. Let them tear their own web apart in their desperation to stop any attempt to foil them.”

“Let’s just hope it works,” Anders said.

“From here on out, that’s about all we can do.”

“Is that all you need from me, then?”

“You’ll keep the journal hidden?”

Anders nodded.

“Then, yes. That’s all.”

Delphi stood, tucking the journal duplicate into her coat, before making her way back to the door.

Anders called after her, “You’re leaving?”

“The night wanes,” she said in response. “And I have very little time. If I want any chance of succeeding, I must finish this tonight.”

Anders stood to follow after her just as she reached the door.

“Delphi, wait.”

She turned her head, saying nothing. 

“Promise you’ll come back?”

“I already told you, Anders. Even if I’m successful, which I plan to be… it would be the height of arrogance to assume I’ll emerge victorious and unscathed. I appreciate that you care, but I will not make a promise I’m not sure I can keep.”

Delphi turned the doorknob. She took one confidant stride into the still night air before Anders called after her again. 

“Promise you’ll try?”

Delphi turned to face Anders fully now. Anders’ eyes had widened in fear as it began to sink in that this might be the last time he ever saw her.

“You won’t make promises you can’t be sure you’ll keep, fine. But you can promise you’ll do your best to come back alive. Right?” 

“I…” Delphi’s gaze flitted to the ground, conflicted. 

“That’s an oath you can keep, isn’t it? As long as you try to save yourself.”

“Anders, please don’t make me—”

“People need you, Delphi.”

Anders saw the instant he said it, the way Delphi’s eyes went cold, her mouth straightening into a thin hard line. It had been a desperate plea, his reckless attempt to persuade her, to choose just the right thing to say to make her understand. He’d chosen wrong. 

“Goodnight, Anders.”

She was a shapechanger and the chosen of a god of lies and trickery. She disappeared into the night, and Anders had no hope of following her. 

He’d never really worshipped the Masked One. Not like Delphi had, at any rate. But as he stood in the open doorway, he found himself murmuring a soft prayer.

“Please keep her safe.”

[sweeter-innocence-fics]

You Brought Your Worst and I’m Right Here - Chapter Six: No matter what I think

Pairing: Gale of Waterdeep x female Tav

Work Summary:

After an explosive falling out between Gale and his academic adviser, Mystra, Tav is left to pick up the pieces.

Modern/College AU.

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 Epilogue

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1904

Read on AO3.

Masterlists.

Taglist: @mrs-kai-anderson @ang3l1te @missryerye

Taglist info

Previous Chapter

Notes:

all of the regular warnings for grooming, abuse, suicide, as well as alcohol I guess

---

Tav was sitting at a tucked away table in the corner of the student lounge with two glasses of wine in front of her. Shadowheart said she’d be here any minute, but the minutes kept ticking on by. Her glass was almost empty when her friend showed up, looking rather harried.

“Sorry,” said Jen, dropping her over-full bag onto the bench. “The professor wanted to give me some feedback on my last essay after the lecture and I couldn’t say no. Is this for me?” She indicated the full glass.

“Sure is.”

“Thanks.” Shadowheart tipped her head back and downed the wine in one long gulp. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and picked up Tav’s now empty glass. “I’ll get another round,” she said, and then headed off towards the bar.  

Tav’s lips curled up into a smile. It was a Friday night, and both of them clearly needed this. Shadowheart returned a moment later with a full bottle of wine and two fresh glasses.

“Long week?” asked Tav as Shadowheart poured the drinks.

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” said Jen. “I have some horror stories but I don’t wanna make you puke.”

“Try me.”

So she did. As Shadowheart regaled her with stories about the cadavers she had dissected, and the bodily fluids she had ended up covered in while pulling shifts at the hospital, Tav fought the urge to gag.

Shadowheart was in the process of describing the contents of a bedpan that she’d been cleaning when Tav finally held up a hand.

“Okay, you got me, I’m done. Please, no more.”

Jen began to laugh. “You lasted longer than I expected.”

“I don’t know how you do it.”

“You get used to it, I promise. So what about you? How is everything going? I’m glad to see that you and Gale are friends again.”

Tav frowned, staring down at her drink. She was on her third glass now and she was starting to feel a little buzzed. It was just enough to make her bold enough to say what she was going to say next.

“Jen, I have to tell you something, but you’ve got to promise you won’t tell Gale. Or anyone else.”

Shadowheart’s expression grew serious. “Of course,” she said. “What is it?”

Tav knew that she could trust her. She was good at keeping secrets. So she told her everything that Gale had told her, watching as her friend’s face grew paler and paler.

When Tav was finished, Shadowheart was drumming her fingertips on the table, visibly agitated.

“God, poor Gale,” she said. “He’s so sweet. He doesn’t deserve any of this.”

“I don’t know what to do,” said Tav, and then she burst into tears.

“Oh Tav…” She felt Jen’s hand resting between her shoulderblades, gently stroking up and down.

“I tried-” Her breath hitched painfully. “I tried to tell him to report her but he won’t. And I understand why he’s scared to but…” She scrubbed at her eyes with her sleeve. “She can’t get away with this. She can’t.”

“Tav…” Jen shifted uncomfortably. “This isn’t… This isn’t the first time I’ve heard something like this about Professor Mystryl.”

Tav looked up at her in confusion. “What?”

“I have some other friends who study physics and… well, apparently there are rumours about her tendency to favour young male students. She likes to mentor them personally. It’s sort of a running joke in the department, apparently.”

Tav felt like she might throw up. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I thought it was just a rumour! You know the kinds of things that people say whenever there’s a woman in a position of authority! I figured someone was just trying to discredit her, or making an off-colour joke, but… hearing this…”

“Gale might not be the first.”

The conversation was interrupted by Tav’s phone buzzing in her pocket. She pulled it out to see that Wyll was calling. Frowning, she answered it.

“Hello?”

“Tav, hey, is Gale with you?” Wyll’s voice came through tinny on the speaker, but his words still hit hard enough to make her stomach drop.

“No? Why?”

“He was supposed to be home an hour ago. I tried calling him but he didn’t answer.”

Tav felt the colour draining from her face. Between her and her flatmates, they’d worked out a system to ensure that Gale was never home alone, just in case. Nowadays, he mostly adhered to his schedule, pretty much only going out to go to classes. Where was he?

“Tav?” said Shadowheart nervously. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Gale isn’t home yet,” she answered. “I’m with Jen,” she added as an aside to Wyll. “And we’re coming home now. Let me know if he turns up.”

“I will. See you soon.”

She said goodbye to Wyll and then tried to hang up the phone, only then noticing how much her hands were shaking. She swore quietly, so Jen took the phone from her hand and hit the red button.

“I’m gonna call an uber, okay?” said Jen, squeezing Tav’s shoulder. “I’m sure he’s okay. He probably just got caught up studying and lost track of time.”

“Okay. I’m gonna try to call him.”

“Good idea.”

Her call when straight to voicemail. She tried to swallow her panic as she heard his voice telling her to leave a message, but she could taste bile in her mouth. She tried for a second and third time, with the same result.

She let Shadowheart guide her outside just as the uber was pulling up. Shadowheart did the talking, while Tav sat with her head back against the headrest, wondering if she might throw up.

“Is it alright if I open the window?” she asked the driver weakly.

“Go ahead,” he said, so she did so. The cool air was very welcome.

They were five minutes from home when her phone began to buzz again. Her heart leapt, but the caller ID read ‘Wyll’.

She answered it. “Hey Wyll.”

“Tav. Guess who just showed up.” Wyll sounded unamused. Although he was trying to temper his voice, she could tell he was angry.

“Gale? Is he home?”

“He is. He decided to walk home from campus, apparently. And his phone ran out of battery.”

Tav exhaled hard. “Seriously?”

“He’s very sorry for worrying everyone. I’m sorry I called you. I should’ve just waited.”

“No, you did the right thing. Thanks Wyll. We’ll back soon. And don’t worry, I’ll yell at Gale for you. I’m allowed to yell at him.”

Wyll chuckled awkwardly. “Not on my behalf, please. I’ll see you soon.”

Shadowheart was staring at her when she put the phone down. “Well?”

“He’s fine.” Tav relayed Wyll’s message, watching as Shadowheart frowned back at her.

“Well, that’s good,” she said. “He’s always been pretty absent-minded. It’s not surprising that he forgot to charge his phone.”

“Yeah.”

Shadowheart turned her attention back to the driver. “It’s just up here on the left, mate.”

The car had barely pulled in when Tav opened the door and jumped out. She hurried into the house to find Wyll in the hallway, waiting for her.

“Hey,” he said, frowning. “I’m sorry for calling. I shouldn’t have-”

“Yes, you should have,” she said, and then pulled him into a hug. “Is he okay?”

“He seems upset.” He kept his voice low. “He did apologise for worrying me, though. He went upstairs but he’s keeping his bedroom door open.”

“Thanks.” Behind her, she heard Shadowheart shutting the front door. “I’m gonna go check on him.”

“Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thank you.”

As promised, she found Gale in his bedroom, the door propped open. He was lying on top of the covers of his bed, scrolling on his phone. There was a puffiness to his eyes that made Tav frown.

She knocked lightly on the open door. “Gale?”

He turned to face her. “Hey Tav.” His voice was hoarse and throaty. “Wyll said he called you. I’m sorry.” He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “I didn’t mean to worry everyone. I just… needed some air. I should’ve made sure my phone was charged before walking back.”

“It’s okay.” She could feel some of the anxiety leeching out of her now that she could see that Gale was safe, albeit clearly upset. “What happened?”

“Could you close the door please? I don’t want anyone else hearing.”

She shut the door and came to sit beside him on the bed. “What is it, Gale?”

“I had to turn in some paperwork to the physics department today, to change my academic adviser. I was just going to put it in Mystra’s pigeonhole but…” He shuffled awkwardly, not meeting her eye. “I decided to go and see her.” Tav opened her mouth, but he held up his hands. “I know, I know. I’m the king of making bad decisions. But I was sort of hoping that she might reconsider keeping me on as a student. Not as a lover. Just as a student. Separation of church and state. She really is a brilliant scientist and I learnt a lot under her.” He winced at his own wording. “You know what I mean.”

“Gale…”

“It doesn’t matter. Because as I was approaching her office, a young man walked out. I think he’s a second year. I’ve seen him at physics socials. He looked… dishevelled. And when he saw me standing there he had this look on his face like he’d been caught. And it was very clear what he and Mystra had been doing in her office.”

“Oh Gale.” Tav wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He didn’t hug her back, but he leant into her embrace. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s stupid.” Gale’s voice was thick with tears. “That this, after everything, feels like a betrayal. Perhaps I am a complete idiot, but part of me thought that she loved me. That what we had was real. At the very least, that she’d be as torn up about our separation as I am. But this… it’s clear that I was just some plaything to her, to be discarded when I’m more trouble than I’m worth.”

“You’re not an idiot,” Tav soothed, rubbing his back the way that Shadowheart had rubbed hers while she’d cried over Gale. “You believed what she wanted you to believe. She led you on and used you.”

Gale tilted his head towards her. Their faces were closer than she had realised. She could almost taste his breath. He could probably smell the wine on hers.

“Tav, I don’t know what I’d do without you. I’m sorry for pushing you away.”

She squeezed him. “We’re past that. No more apologies, remember?”

“Right.”

Their closeness had her pulse racing. She pulled back, disentangling herself from him.

“Gale, there’s something I should probably tell you.”

“What is it?”

“I was talking to Shadowheart earlier, and she… well, she mentioned that there were… rumours about Professor Mystryl.” Gale didn’t respond. He just stared back at her, so she took a deep breath. “Apparently, Professor Mystryl is known to… mentor young male students. It seems to be a pattern for her.”

Gale said nothing. He swallowed, looking away from her, and then nodded. “That… tracks, honestly.”

“I’m sorry, Gale.”

“I’m not.” His voice was steely, his expression hardened. “Not anymore. I’m going to take her down.”

Next Chapter

[scribeoffate]

For the scottuary fics, could I ask Dreams + AU + Scott/Brett/Isaac pls?

So this switched to Dreams+scott+anger because au had been taken. And from scott/brett/isaac to scisaac because i can't read, apparently <3 hopefully you still enjoy it!

“So, not good news?”

Scott’s fists are clenched, resting on the table surrounded by shredded white pieces of paper, stark against their dark wood table.

“Dear Mr. McCall,” Scott growls, “we regret to inform you…”

Isaac leans against the wall with his arms crossed. “That sucks.”

Scott stares across the room, eyes glazed over. “This was the last school.”

Isaac shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He has no idea what to say. It isn’t fair. But life never really is.

“It’s so unfair,” Scott spits, echoing his thoughts. “I’ve worked just as hard as anyone. But every letter is some variation of 'we don’t think a werewolf is a good fit for vet school.'"

“You do have that missing semester.”

Scott slams a fist against the table. The wood cracks down the middle. Scott winces and pulls his hand away.

“I was being held captive by Monroe. That semester was supposed to…” Scott traces a finger along the crack in the table, visibly deflating. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t know why I ever thought it did.”

“Hey…” Isaac uncrosses his arms. The anger made more sense. Anger is easier than whatever this is. “It’s just a table.”

The table takes that moment to finish breaking, splitting down the crack, each piece crashing to the floor. The shredded envelope paper floats to the ground in slow motion as Isaac steps closer to Scott.

Scott drops his head into his hands. “I’m sorry.”

Isaac suppresses the urge to growl. He kneels next to the chair Scott still sits in, the remains of the table and later surrounding them. He lifts a hand to cup Scott’s chin and tilt his face toward himself.

“You matter. You matter so much to me.”

Isaac wants to kick himself for how cheesy that sounds.

Then Scott smiles softly at him. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes. And it’s not Isaac’s favorite goofy grin, but it’s something. It’s progress.

Scott moves one of his hands and runs it through Isaac’s hair.

They sit like that for an eternity that can never last long enough, breathing quietly. Issac presses their lips together in a brief kiss before rising and offering Scott a hand.

For a minute, he thinks Scott won’t take it.

Scott does, his palm warm against Isaac’s skin. “I really am sorry, about the table.”

“We can get a new one.”

“I suppose we’ll save a lot of money, since I won’t be going to school.”

He tries to say it lightly, but Isaac hears the way it sticks in his throat.

“It’s okay, you know?”

Scott sighs, glancing at the table.

“Being angry,” Isaac clarifies. “It’s really not fair and you’ve given so much to protect people. And being a vet is… it’s what you’ve always wanted. Since that day you showed me how to take pain, I’ve known it was your dream to help animals. So. It’s okay, you know?”

Scott’s smile is a little less strained. “Thank you.”

Isaac shrugs. “I’m not really good at motivational speeches.”

Scott leans in and kisses him, a brief brush of lips. His grin is just a little goofy as he pulls away.

“Sounded pretty good to me.”

[xoxo-teddybear]

Birthday Bummer - Bakugou Katsuki

Bakugou x f!reader

Warnings: Angst, Cursing, Fluff, cheating accusations, jealous Katsuki

Summary: You love your boyfriend! You do! And he loves you! However he’s always busy. You understand being a pro can be very occupational but when he does have days off, he spends them either training to doing some paper work. Doing everything he can to get ahead, and you of course support him! But sometimes you miss him and sometimes he misses..a lot

BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST

“Oh? You’re not gonna be able to make it again?” You said with sadness laced in your voice. The phone in your hand felt like led in your shaking palm as you spoke to your boyfriend.

“Yeah. I’m so sorry Teddy Bear. Endeavor won’t let me off especially with all the damaged I caused during our last battle.” He explained. Your lip began to quiver but you bit it to hide your expression.

“It’s fine, Suki. Really. I understand, you’re a hero and you’re busy. Don’t worry about it, Love.” You said with a reassuring tone.

“Are you already at the restaurant?” He asked with worry.

“No, I didn’t even leave the house yet. I was still getting ready. I was actually gonna text you to tell you I was gonna be a little late, but..yeah.” You said. Bakugou sighed in sadness.

“I’m so sorry. I promise I’ll make it up to you baby.” Another empty promise. You licked your lips at his words and gave a disappointed sigh.

“Ok.” You replied.

“I love you.” He sweetly said.

“I love you too.”

“Bye Y/N!” Kirishima said from the other side of the phone.

“Shitty Hair said ‘bye’” Bakugou said, relaying the message.

“Heh, bye Kiri.” You said and hung up. You placed the phone down on the table and bounced your leg up and down as you let your head rest in your hand.

Of course. Like usual, Katsuki blew you off again for work. It’s not like it’s his fault but he never seems to turn his agency down. You understand that being a hero requires diligent work and good ethics but your boyfriend would always drop everything for work whenever, wherever. That includes you.

“Excuse me, Miss?”

You looked up to the man who was dressed in a clean suit with a white apron. “Would you like anything else?”

“Ha, I mean..unless you can get my date here, then just the check.” You joked. The kind waiter placed an understanding hand on your shoulder before placing down the bill. You sipped from your champagne glass and payed before grabbing your purse and walking out of the fancy restaurant. Maybe if your boyfriend were here, you would be getting in his car with him to go home, but instead, you were driving your own and sitting by yourself. You began your drive home to the empty house.

The usual. Katsuki blows you off for work, tries to make it up to you with something special, fails to show up for that, repeat cycle. This time..it was different though. It was supposed to be your special day. It was your birthday.

You hoped he would’ve remembered. I mean, it’s not like this was your first birthday with him. This was going to be your 4th birthday with him! And he forgot! And you would’ve let it slide had it not been for the fact that he had been blowing you off more and more for work. You understand he’s a pro and you get that with the sudden splurge of crime in Musutafu he’s been way busier but he didn’t even spare you a little “Happy Birthday, babe.”

As you pulled into the driveway, you looked at the doorway and saw an edible arrangement! Your eyes lit up as you ran out the car and went to examine the gift. Unfortunately, as you read the gift card, you saw it was from Mina and not Katsuki. You smiled nonetheless, appreciative of the gift.

You brought it in and enjoyed the sweet treats in the basket with a sad smile. You left it on the dining table along with all the other gifts. A beautiful set of rings, a new dress, a heart holding teddy bear, and a bouquet of roses from your father. You were always a daddy’s girl. You and your father were extremely close and only grew closer once you lost your mother. Growing up an only child, your father was your best friend. You loved him dearly. As you examined the flowers, you couldn’t help but notice his note that put a smile on your face.

Hello my Sweet Angel, Y/N. It’s been another year of you being in my life and I couldn’t be happier to have been blessed with you. I hope these roses will suffice but I know they pale in comparison to your beauty. I hope you enjoy this marvelous day and I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to spend it with you as we usually do. I love you Y/N

-Daddy

You called your father to thank him for the roses and to have a conversation with him. You hadn’t talked to many people today despite it being your birthday so talking to one of your favorite people should bring your mood to a better place.

“Alright, I should get going now. It’s pretty late and you need your rest.” You reminded your father.

“Of course dear. Have a nice night, goodnight sweetie.”

“Okay, goodnight Daddy!” You chirped.

“Goodnight!”

You enjoyed speaking to your father and you definitely did feel your mood brighten until you noticed a text from Katsuki. You foolishly hoped it was a last minute birthday mention but of course you were wrong.

‘I’ll be home soon, princess. Mind getting dinner started? Thanks <3’

You could only sigh and feel your mood drop once more.

Afterwards, you chose to ignore his request and went to your shared bedroom. You stripped out of your gorgeous outfit and took off your makeup that you spent hours on. You hoped Katsuki would’ve gotten to see you all dolled up for your special day but things happen..you guess. You ran a hot bath for yourself and filled it with all types of scented bath salts, soaps, and flower petals. You lit a few candles and set them up all pretty around the tub and hopped in, relishing in the warmth that wrapped around you. All you wanted to do was forget about today.

—

Bakugou walked through the door exhausted from the day’s work. He took a shower at the agency and was all set and dressed in a comfy tee and a pair of sweats. He dropped his case at the door and walked in, expecting dinner for him on the island, but instead was met with a bunch of gifts. He stood shocked but chuckled to himself at the thought of you doing such a nice thing for him out of nowhere. He guesses that this was better than dinner.

He walked to the gifts and examined them. An edible arrangement that seemed to be eaten? Rings that were obviously for a woman? A dress? Okay, by now he realized that these gift must’ve been for you but for what? He continued to look through the gifts and noticed the lovey dovey Teddy Bear and bouquet. He grew a little irked at the gifts that one would deem romantic but what really sent it was the note. The words made his blood boil and when he saw the note was signed “Daddy,” he exploded.

“Is she…” as Bakugou thought about it, he came to the conclusion that you must’ve been cheating on him with some sugar daddy. The gifts, the dress, the rings, the note?! It gave him all the signs. In a raging fit, he took the basket and slammed it to the floor. He ripped apart the Teddy Bear, tossed the rings, singed the dress, and stomped on the beautiful roses. Finally, he made his way to search for you as he spoke to himself. “Oh that cheating fucking bitch.”

—

You were all set with your bath and had already dried your hair. You were dressed in your favorite silk set as you laid on the king sized bed. Suddenly, the door busted open and your boyfriend walked through the door, and he was pissed.

“Katsuki! The door!” You exclaimed before Bakugou made his way over to you.

“Am I not enough for you?!” He screamed. You looked at him in silent confusion and your pause urged him to continue. “What?! Do I not make enough money to your liking?! Well sorry if I can’t fucking spoil you! I just thought you would’ve appreciated my fucking efforts a little damn more considering you don’t have to work at all!”

“Katsuki, what the hell are you talking about?” You questioned, sitting up a little straighter.

“I’m talking about you fucking cheating on me! You think I wouldn’t notice all the fucking gifts you got for spreading your legs for some rich bastard?!” He asked and threw your gifted dress on your lap. You looked at it in shock as you ran your fingers across the singes. “Why don’t you take that fucking dress and the rest of your stupid gifts, and get the fuck out of this ho-“

Without letting him finish, you pushed his chest away and ran downstairs to the island. You set your eyes on the island and you stopped in your tracks, covering your open mouth with your hands in shock. Bakugou followed you down the stairs so he could see your reaction to having your gifts ruined, thinking it was exactly what you deserved for “cheating.”

“No, no, no!” You said an ran to the scattered gifts, trying to collect them as best as you could. Tears fell down your face as you looked at all the broken pieces in your hand. It wasn’t that you cared about receiving gifts, it was that these gifts were from people who cared enough to remember the day you came into this world. A day your own boyfriend couldn’t even remember this year. You found the crushed bouquet and held it against your chest. A gift from your dear father, ruined.

“What is wrong with you?” You tearfully asked the blonde behind you. You stood on your feet as he smirked at you with crossed arms and scoffed.

“What’s wrong with you? Fucking cheating on me with some sugar daddy?! And don’t even try to lie your way out of this shit, I read the fucking card.” He stated. You gawked at him in confusion and looked around as if he was crazy.

“The bouquet was from my father, Bakugou! Not my fucking sugar daddy! I don’t fucking have one, you prick!” Your words made Bakugou’s eyes pop as his arms uncrossed and slowly fell to his sides.

“W-What?” He asked.

“My father! The roses were from my father! The edible arrangement was from Mina, the rings were from Momo, the teddy bear was from Kirishima, and the dress was from Jirou! They gave me these gifts because it’s my birthday! Remember?!”

Bakugou immediately felt guilt build up in his chest. A little relief with that fact that you weren’t cheating, but immediate guilt for accusing you of doing so, telling you to leave, breaking your gifts, and forgetting your birthday.

“Y-Y/N I-“

“Save it Bakugou. You want me to leave so bad? Then I’ll go.” With that, you slammed the destroyed flowers into his chest and ran to the bedroom to change and pack a small bag with Bakugou following your trail.

“Y/N! No, wait!” He shouted and chased after you. Before he could grab hold of you, you made it into the room and slammed the door in his face before locking it. “Baby! C’mon, open the door! I’m sorry!”

“Leave me alone!” You said as you changed.

“No! Baby, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I forgot your birthday, I’m sorry I accused you of cheating, I’m sorry I ruined your special day. Please just let me in to fix this!” He begged. You finally opened the door with an angry look. “Baby! Thank go-“

“You can’t fix this, Bakugou!” You said with tears poking at the ends of your eyes. His heart began to ache when he noticed them and the bag you carried. Not only that but ever since you started calling him Bakugou again, he felt weak.

“Baby..it’s Katsuki.” He said trying to reach out for you but you snatched your hand away.

“Don’t call me that and as of right now, no it’s not!” You tried to walk away but Bakugou grabbed onto your waist to stop you.

“Y/N, stop, please. Look, you don’t have to go, just stay here and we can talk about this. Please we don’t even have to talk, just stay here. I’ll sleep in the guest room just don’t go, please.” He pleaded with soft tears. You bit your lip before calming down and speaking to him.

“Katsuki, I can’t be around you right now.” You said with a broken voice. “I just need some space…please.”

Katsuki still refused to let you go and so you stood there for what felt like forever. Eventually, you felt his hold weaken and so you pulled his arms off before walking away. Bakugou quietly followed you to the exit and before you left, Bakugou grabbed your wrist.

“I’m sorry. Please..let me fix this.” He said with tears running down his eyes. You froze before going in to make a move. You sighed and placed your hands on his face and wiped away his tears with your thumb. Bakugou took the opportunity to hold you in his arms once more as he leaned in to your touch. You pulled his face in and pecked his cheek before placing your hand on the knob once more.

“We’ll talk when I get back.” You softly said. You didn’t bother to see his response before you shut the door and got in your car to drive away.

Talk about a birthday bummer.

A/N: UGH, HORRIBLE ENDING

Tag list: @sxcker4you @aomi04 @tessabrown101

[btssunnyboy]

Unbelievable - Choi San

He was always rude to you, embarrassing you in front of everyone. So why is he mad that someone better made you an offer?

Warning - Profanity, mention of caffeine, San is mean as fuck, Yandere towards the end, He makes a threat.

Word Count - 3,362 idk if they will be a part 2!

BTS , NCT , ATEEZ — request open.

__________________________________________

Good god, your blood was boiling the moment you saw his door crack open. You could feel your fingernails digging into your palms as you tried to remain calm. The last thing you needed to do was lose your temper and give this man another opportunity to ridicule in front of your co-workers. But judging by that horrendous look on his face you already have a gut feeling that all taht hard work to keep your anger in check is going to fly right through the window. Taking the deepest breath you could take and plastering on that fake smile, you gladly greeted the man that makes your life a living hell.

“These numbers are definitely not to my liking and I refused to be the laughing stock at the board meeting tomorrow.” He huffed heavily as he practically threw the binder down onto your desk. The heavy plastic slamming against the steel desk with a loud thud that echoed through the big hallway. The wind from the fall making papers that previously occupied your desk go flying in every single direction. You could feel your anger bubble up in your chest at the mere disrespect that this man was giving you, and it was driving you insane.

“With all do respect sir, it’s already twelve thirty, and I highly doubt I’ll be able to go over all of these documents by seven thirty in the morning.” You resisted their urge to grit your teeth as you wanted to appear somehow considerate of his complications. Truth be told you didn’t want to do another all nighter when you barely pulled through from the other night. “Besides, I looked over the revenue and margin growths three times before I sent them to your office.”

He scoffed loudly as he licked one of his fingers and then continued to rummage through the papers that were bonded together. His long finger skimmed over the lines multiple times and he flipped each page within a minute. Those piercing eyes stayed locked in on every single number that crossed the page. “Ah, right here it states that we made a profit revenue of fifty million last year, but then it states that this year we’ve only grossed sixty five million. And that’s definitely less than the fifty percent revenue growth that we expected.”

“So, sixty five is not as bad as you’re making it out to be, besides multiple people double checked.” You spoke tiredly as you started packing up your briefcase. Different papers getting stacked together and even crumpled because of the rapid pace that you were going. No matter what happens tonight you were leaving before the clock strikes one in the morning. As you were packing up your eyes met his furious ones and it felt like your world was crumbling down. “Mr. Choi, I’m being honest, your accounting department checked all of these numbers multiple times and I looked over them as much as I could.”

“I know for a fact that we had a fifty percent increase in revenue, now look over these damn numbers again. Or you’ll be kissing this cushy office job goodbye in the morning.” He harshly slammed the binder closed and stalked over to his office door. The audacity of that stupid man, how dare he even threaten you with this job. But as much as you wanted to spit in his face and tell him to shove it you really needed this job, this really well paying job.

You poked your cheek with your tongue out of agitation and roughly grabbed your purse. The bottle of caffeine pills made a clicking sound as you unscrewed the cap within a second. Without a drink of water you downed the pill and grabbed the ugly binder. This was going to be a long night, and these numbers were not going to supposedly fix themselves.

Your fingers tapped the keys on the keyboard rapidly as you searched each collaboration revenue. All of these numbers were lining up, no matter what you searched. Out of the six collaborations Choi enterprise only grossed sixty five million, but for some reason he just won’t listen. All you wanted to do at this point was slump forward and go to sleep, but with that anger that Mr.Choi has you’re scared he might kill you in your sleep. But as the long hours went on and on, you could feel yourself slipping. Your eyelids felt like a ton, and your head was suddenly too heavy for your neck to hold. Before you knew you were out like a light.

—

You’d shoot the person who was jabbing their finger into side if you could. Their bony finger feeling a knife stabbing your rib cage with immense pressure. “Please wake up, y/n, if he notices you’re asleep, who knows what he’ll do!” The jabbing didn’t cease one bit, in fact they just jabbed even harder.

“Okay! I’m up!” You groggily scoffed as your vision was trying to focus on the object in front of you. The figure was simply a mush of different colors all moving in different directions. The harsh lights in the office are in no way making the situation any better. You could make out their hand moving from left to right to try and grab your attention. “Hongjoong?”

“What are you, blind? Of course it’s me, but please I’m begging you get up and go freshen up in the bathroom.” He sighed sadly as he helped your wobbly stance straighten up. His soft hands wrapping around your waist and pulling you close. The soft scent of his cologne filling your nose as you clung to him. “Do you still carry extra clothes in your car?”

“Thankfully yes, but what time is it?” You question as you rubbed your eyes, trying to make all the colors of the world blend back together to form one coherent thing. “Oh god, is it past seven thirty, oh shit! He’s gonna kill me!”

“Calm down, it's only six thirty, but he always gets here at seven. So please go wipe that old makeup off and I’ll get your other clothes.” Hongjoong smiled slightly at you before his eyes shifted towards the oh so famous brown binder. “Did that dick make you go over more numbers the whole night?”

“God yes and it was terrible, but I looked over all six collaborations and I kid you not it all equals sixty five.” You could hear a pin drop on the silence that coated the room. It was beginning to feel suffocating and you physically felt your chest growing heavy with dread. “There were only six right, because that’s all the forms I received.”

“Maybe i'm just thinking of something else, because maybe just maybe -“

“Stop wasting time! Is there more than six?” You panicked as you shoved him away and pulled the rolling chair back to your side. Before your fingers could even reach the keys, Hongjoong’s were there in a second. They tapped rapidly and skimmed through all your emails at a neck breaking pace. “Oh my god I never refreshed the email.”

“We don’t have time to sit here and panic, we have three pages of numbers to go through.” Hongjoong tried to make the situation less tense by offering a helping hand, but he knew that if these numbers weren’t corrected all hell would break loose. And no one wanted to see what Choi San was like when he more than ticked off. He’d probably be past the point of furious if ever saw these unfinished numbers.

—

San’s eyes were narrowed as he eyed the unfamiliar man at your desk. Where the hell were you? He didn’t pay a shit ton of money for you to be everywhere and not in that chair looking pretty. But at this moment he couldn’t control himself as the words flew from his mouth. “What the hell is this?”

That look, that gorgeous look of fear that made his blood rush and his heart pound. Was etched across the unknown man's face and he was basking in the glory of it. San cocked his eyebrow slightly as he leaned forwards on his palms. “Did I suddenly grow two heads or some shit, no? Then answer my question, what the hell is this.”

“I’m so sorry Mr.Choi, but I didn’t notice that there were seven collaborations. I only had six in my email. And Mr.Kim was only helping me scrunch the numbers.”

“You mean to tell me that these numbers aren’t finished! And this meeting is in less than an hour?” His demeanor was calm but the sheer venom in his voice was enough to bring you to your knees. He poked his cheek with his tongue and gave a mean smile in your direction. “I mean it, l/n you’re on thin ice. But if those numbers aren’t corrected then you’re fired.”

“Yes sir.” You gulped as you watched him take heavy steps towards his office. You were in deep shit now. San rubbed his chin as he tried to remain calm and not fire you on the spot. Out of all the times you could have missed up, you decided now was the perfect time. Messing up these numbers would make other investors think that this company cannot handle the responsibility of simply matching numbers. This mistake could completely tank the company and put everyone here out of a job.

Fifty five minutes have passed and investors from other companies are already showing up at the doors. And here he was sitting at the head of the table empty handed, and it was all your fault. It was your fault for not refreshing that damn email, for not paying closer attention to the numbers, for simply not giving it your all. And now it’s going to be your fault that the entire company crumbles and falls straight into the depths below.

“So San, when is this meeting going to officially begin?” Questioned one of the many associates as he leaned back against the velvet chair. A smile bright on his face as if he didn’t care to wait a moment or two for it to begin. But, on the other hand, the leader of the meeting was so furious he could start foaming at the mouth. Because guess what crucial piece of information still wasn’t on his desk.

“We will begin momentarily if my secretary would get her head out of her ass and bring them those god damn numbers.” San spoke with a soft smile on his face. The look he gave the men was a completely different tone from the words he just spoke. Those words help fury and degradation but his smile was so bright it could light up a room or cause someone’s heart to flutter out of their chest. But at this moment all of those men knew at this moment San was anything, but happy.

The sound of the doorknob being yanked on caught everyone’s attention. Their heads jolted towards the cause of the noise as they watched you fiddled with the dozens of papers in her hand. Your smile was uneasy as you tried to reorganize them on your way towards the head of the table. They watched your clammy hands shake with fear as San ripped the paper from your hands. Judging by the way you quickly held your pointed and middle finger they could only guess what happened.

“Why the hell are you still standing here? Do I need to draw you a picture and make it clear that you’re done here?” San scolded as he shoved you a bit and forced you to walk to the door. Fumbling over your own two feet and almost hitting the floor head on at one point. But he didn’t care, because all he wanted to do right now was get this meeting over with. With a final shove and a quick slam of the glass door, he swiftly turned back around to be met with very difficult to decipher expressions.

“Well now that all distractions are gone, let’s get down to business.”

—

Your face was flushed and you could feel your hands start to shake. From the mere interaction with the stupid CEO. The vivid picture of his icy eyes and cold stare were burned into your brain, as his words pounded in your skull without mercy. The man practically belittled you, in a room full of successful CEOs who now probably think you’re a joke.

“Hey, don't worry yourself sick. It was an honest mistake.” Hongjoong consoled you as he eyed your shaken form. The tearful eyes and the constant bouncing of your leg was a dead giveaway of the way you felt at this moment. And he wanted nothing more than to just say everything will be okay, that everything is going to be just fine. But he can’t, because who knows what the jerk will do you do considering your almost costed him a deal.

“Do you think he’ll fire me?” The question hung in the air with such heaviness that it was almost hard to breathe. The thought of losing this job was sending you into a whirlwind of erratic emotions. If this job is gone, there goes the ability to afford your car, hell there goes the ability to afford the damn apartment you’re living in at this moment. You’ll lose eveything, if you’re cut off.

“He better not, and trust me if he ever does, I would be more than happy to have you on my team.” A new man smiled brightly in your direction as he made his way over to your desk. He wasn’t an unfamiliar face around the office as he and Mr.Choi have done business deals of many kinds in the past. “It would truly be an honor to have someone like you working at Jeon Marketing.”

A small smile took over your face as you eyed the man in front of you. Mr.Jeon was an extremely well known CEO in this business, and he’s not too much older than Mr.Choi. You’re genuinely surprised these men are allies in this type of business, if anything you thought they’d be enemies. “Thank you for such kind words, but trust me your opinion on me may change soon.”

“Nonsense, I’ve seen the way you handle situations at this company, especially time crunched ones. I can tell just by looking at your face you stayed up hours just to make sure his numbers were perfect.” Mr Jeon stated as he leaned forward on the desk and clapped his hand together. “And truth be told I wouldn’t mind having such a beautiful face be the face of my company.”

His compliment left you stumped as you eyed his face. The tone he held was lighthearted because he knew this stressful situation needed a little laughter, but you knew from the look on his face he was being serious. About both of his statements. Before you could form a response, he long fingers were reaching into his jacket pocket. “I promise, if you ever need anything. I’m just a call away.”

“His top rival and best friend just offered you a sweet ass deal, are you gonna take it?”

You truly didn’t know the answer to that. I mean on one hand you have your secretary job here, and it pays well. The boss may be a pain in the ass, but it’s the only thing keeping you afloat. And you know that these two companies are neck and neck right now for the top spot, so it’s hard to decipher just how much he’s willing to pay you. But would there be any harm in simply asking the man?

“I’m not gonna lie and say it doesn’t intrigue me, but at the same time I don’t wanna leave you all alone.” You mumbled as you tapped away at the computer keys. Just trying to find any small amount of information about his company. But only mere surface information popped up in the search box. “Would it be a bad thing if I did leave?”

“Sometimes trying something new is good thing, but it really all depends on how you feel. And I have a friend that works there and she told me she makes over 250k a year.” Hongjoong shrugged his shoulders as he stood up to leave. His soft eyes giving a sense of comfort as he started to walk away. “I promise whatever option you pick, you’ll be fine.”

A heavy huff of air passed through your lips as you tried to think of the right answer. If he was right you’d make just a little bit more working for him and he genuinely seems like a nicer boss in general. So the real question is what’s keeping you tied to this job? The only perk about this job is working with Hongjoong and he’s the main reason why you’ve stuck around this long. The men from before were now exiting San’s offer with bright smiles on their faces, and you could only conclude that those numbers truly were the right ones. But just as your eyes leave their smiles you’re met with someone who has the complete opposite expression.

He briskly walked towards you and hastily cleared his throat. The stone cold expression he was supporting made a shiver go down your spine. Without a second thought he grabbed your hand and hauled you off in the direction of his office, with his nails piercing the skin of your wrist. Within a second he shoved you into his office and slammed the door behind him.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” His stern voice echoed in the office. Bouncing off the walls left and right and continuing to bounce inside your skull. The fingernails that were pressing into your skin felt like sharp needles protruding into you. You could have sworn you saw blood pass through his fingers. “Answer me!”

“I’m sorry! But I don’t understand what you’re talking about.” You panicked as you tried to yank your arm away from his hardened grasp. Those eyes of his start to terrify you the longer you stay in his touch. But he wasn’t letting you get away if anything the more you struggled against him the tighter his hold got.

“I saw that dumb fucker hand you his card, and for some unknown reason you took it. So what that’s it, you’re just gonna fucking leave after everything I’ve done for you?” He spat words at you left and right. Not bothering to back up any of his claims. He speaks as if he’s given you pure gold to walk but in reality all he’s given you is eggshells. You have to be careful around you, you’re never treated well, and he wants to sit up on his throne and act as if he’s treated you like royalty?

“If anything you’ve given me shit! You’re treating me like crap any chance you get, I made one mistake and your response to that is belittling me in front of other people!” You shouted back with just as much venom as he has done to you. With a final yank from your arm, you relaxed yourself from his grip. Tired of his antics you looked him dead in the eyes and spoke. “And so what if I take his offer, he’d be a better boss than you ever were!”

“I mean it, L/n, you take that deal and I’ll make your life a living hell.” He threatened as he got closer and closer. His minty breath fanned your face slightly as he harshly grabbed your chin. “Trust me, this is one bet you’ll regret taking if you leave.”

“I’ll take that damn bet any day.” You tried to push his chest back but he was stronger than you. What surprised you the most was the cackle-like laugh that passed through his lips. A wide smile taking over his face and that somehow made the situation more sinister.

“I warned you, Y/n.”

[venicebixch]

Crush part 3

trigger warnings for this one include physical fighting, verbal altercations, DV, and mentions of blood and vomiting, although those last 2 are fairly mild. mostly, just beware of the fighting and DV if that could possibly be triggering for you. other than that, enjoy :)

After finishing up my errands, we grabbed lunch then went back to the hype house. We got everything ready for everyone to come over and then hung out until people started showing up.

Now I’m about 6 shots of tequila and 2 Coronas deep. Vinnie has had probably twice as much as I have, and he’s rowdy as usual when he’s drunk. But he’s in a really good mood, making him the life of the party tonight.

I stumble off to the bathroom to pee and take a little breather. My introverted self needs these moments alone after a long day with people, plus I feel kind of sick from drinking.

Having a minute alone makes me realize how sick I actually feel. I stand at the sink and try to pull myself together but the burning sensation in my stomach won’t go away. I look down and realize my hand is stuck to someone’s used, wet tissue that was left sitting on the sink. That pushed me over the edge and I immediately feel the urge to vomit, barely making it to the toilet. I come out maybe 15 minutes later and Vinnie and Jack were in the middle of a heated conversation.

“You’re not gonna sit here and tell me that a fucking gorilla is gonna beat a bear’s ass in a fight bro,” Vinnie all but yells across the room.

I’m genuinely confused but expect nothing less from this bunch.

“Have you ever seen a gorilla up close and personal? They’re huge,” Jack fires back.

“Bruh, a bear weighs like 600 lbs and gorillas weight, what? 200, maybe 250? On weight alone bears are gonna win. Not to mention their claws, teeth, and sheer speed. Bears are fast as fuck,” Vinnie looks over at me.

“Y/n, let me ask you something. Who’s gonna win in a fight, a gorilla or a bear?” He asks.

“Uhm, bear?” I say agreeing with Vinnie.

“Boom, see?” He says, looking back at Jack.

“I’m not gonna keep arguing it. Whatever. You’re both wrong but whatever,” Jack walks out of the room, waving his hand at us.

Vinnie comes over to me. I must look sick, because as soon as he gets close to me he gets a concerned look on his face.

“Are you okay?” He asks, rubbing my back. I’m a little surprised by his touch, he usually keeps his hands to himself. I like it though, it’s comforting.

I shake my head no. “I threw up,” I say with a pouty look on my face.

“Alright, we need to get you home,” he says. He calls Jett over. Luckily he stayed sober tonight.

“Hey, can we take y/n home? She’s not feeling well.”

“Yeah, of course,” Jett says.

Vinnie walks to the fridge and grabs me a water and helps me get my shoes on before we head out to the car.

I sit in the backseat so I could lay down on the way home. I nod in and out, hearing bits and pieces of their conversation about Seattle. Every once in a while I have to sit up and take another small sip of water to keep myself from getting sick again.

“Are you okay?” Vinnie asks, looking back at me.

“Yeah,” I say, keeping my eyes open staring at the car ceiling. The world keeps spinning when I close them and the movement of the car doesn’t help.

Vinnie reaches back and grabs my hand, squeezing it gently to comfort me. “We’re almost home.” He says softly.

I sit up when we’re finally almost to my house. As Jett approaches the driveway, and I see a car sitting there with their headlights on.

“What the hell?” I say. “Who is that?” As we get closer I realize it’s Luke’s car.

“Oh my god,” I say, rubbing my forehead.

“Who’s that?” Vinnie asks.

“It’s fucking Luke,” I sigh, irritated. I don’t want to deal with Luke right now. I don’t want to deal with him ever, actually, but especially not right now.

“Why the hell is he here?” Vinnie sounds just as irritated as I am, if not more.

“I don’t know. He texted me this morning and said he wants to talk tonight. I ignored his messages, though. I don’t know why he thought it would be okay to just show up.”

“You should have blocked his number.”

“Yeah,” I agree. Maybe it’s childish of me but I purposefully left his number unblocked and specifically turned my read receipts on for him just so I can get under his skin and make him feel like shit getting left on read every day. I mean it’s literally the least I could do after what he did to me.

I grab my bag and get out of the car. Vinnie rolls his window down to monitor the conversation.

I walk toward the other car and Luke shuts it off and gets out.

“Are you seriously not ever gonna respond to me?” He says angrily. “And who the fuck are you with this late, it’s literally 1 am. I’ve been here since 8.”

“You sat here for 5 hours waiting on me to get home? I ask.

“Yeah, you’ve left me on read for 3 weeks now, it’s getting ridiculous. You’re done playing these games with me.”

“Luke, it’s not a game. You text me multiple times a day every day, I don’t know what you want to talk about,” I say.

“Don’t act like I’m the crazy one.” He laughs, shaking his head at me.

“Did it occur to you that I probably don’t want to fucking talk to you? I don’t want to fucking see you?” I ask.

“Don’t fucking cuss at me,” he grabs my arm and starts pulling me toward the house. I try to pull away but can’t get him off of me.

“Luke, let me go,” I demand. I drop my bag trying harder to get out of his grip. He’s starting to hurt my wrist now.

“No. Stop being a bitch,” he’s now forcefully dragging me toward the front door as I struggle against him. “You’re gonna talk to me, like it or not.”

“No!” I yank back as hard as I could and he turns around and grabs both of my arms shaking me hard.

“I said STOP! Come inside and talk me to god damn it!” He yells, before grabbing my wrist again.

“You’re hurting my wrist, Luke, please stop!” I grab his forearm with my other hand, depserately trying to lessen his grip. I’m starting to get really upset, having flashbacks to my last relationship. That awful feeling of not having control of the situation and being scared creeps right back in like it never even left. Tears start to form in my eyes and my heart starts racing. I feel like I could scream.

I hear a car door slam and I look behind me to see Vinnie full force storming over to us. I swear his eyes look black with rage and I can feel the vibration of his anger from 10 feet away.

“Oh, THIS fucking guy?!” Luke says loudly, laughing. He finally lets my wrist go. “Buddy, just go ho-“

Before Luke could finish his sentence Vinnie rears his arm back and slams his fist right into Luke’s jaw, knocking him backwards on to his ass. I swear I heard a crack when his fist made contact with his face. Luke looks genuinely stunned, like the wind got knocked out of him.

“Vinnie!” I yell, stepping back.

Jett gets out of the car and runs over. “Vinnie, what the fuck?” He says.

Not saying a word, Vinnie drags Luke up to the house by his shirt collar. He gets him back up to his feet by pulling his hair then forcefully slams his back against the house, causing Luke to hit his head hard against the brick wall.

Vinnie leans in, almost nose to nose with him. “So help me god, if you ever fucking touch her again I will take your head and curb stomp the teeth right out of your fucking skull, Sapranos style,” Vinnie says in an eerily calm tone. “If you have any will at all to continue to live your pathetic life, you’ll leave her alone. Permanently. Do you fucking understand me?”

Luke glances over at me. He looks genuinely scared now. Vinnie grabs his face and turns it back toward him. “Don’t you fucking look at her, look at me. I said ‘do you understand me?’”

Luke stares at him, silently, his mouth parted slightly. Vinnie moves his left hand up to his neck, choking him and brings his right fist up, punching him directly in his nose. Blood starts pouring down his face, and Luke’s eyes shut and he goes limp. Vinnie knocked him out. He shakes his head, holding Luke up by his shirt collar, waiting for him to regain consciousness. Just a few moments later, he comes back around and Vinnie starts right back up again.

“I thought you were tough, huh? You act tough when it comes to grabbing her. Bullying and harassing her. Using her. Now you’re face to face with someone who can kick your ass and fight back, and you wanna act all scared?” Vinnie laughs sarcastically.

“Vinnie, please stop it! You’re gonna seriously hurt him!” I beg. I’m full on crying now. I’m less concerned about Luke’s well-being and far more worried about Vinnie ending up in prison on a felonious assault charge.

“Vinnie, enough! Let him go,” Jett says sternly, grabbing his arm.

“Nah, not until he fucking acknowledges what I’m telling him,” he doesn’t break eye contact with Luke.

“Al-alright,” Luke finally stutters out.

“Alright what?” Vinnie eggs him on.

“I’ll leave her alone. She’ll never hear from me again,” Luke says, closing his eyes. He starts crying.

Vinnie finally lets him go. “Fucking leave while you still have the chance.”

Luke stumbles back over to his car, leaving a trail of blood drops behind him. He desperately searches for his car key and gets in, driving off.

“What a pussy bitch,” Vinnie says, laughing out of anger.

[padme-parker]

Mizpah // the darkling x f!reader // ch 7

summary: You and Aleksander come to a disagreement discussing who should be able to wear Morozova’s collar. Zoya is put in her place. Alina has a talk with Baghra. 

warnings: swearing (I think??), violence, baghra being an old hag.

A/N: frfrfrfrfr sorry this took so long lmao, it was very unmotivated to finish. not proofread, I was halfway asleep when writing this so sorry for any mistakes. Listen to a great song while ur reading lol!

YOU thought back to what the letter in your pocket said, something had changed within Aleksander. Before he was the Darkling, he was your Aleksander. That naive, loving boy was now gone. Replaced by the rough shell of a man. He sought out the power to protect his people, power that you could wield.

“Aleksander,” His name left your lips in a hushed whisper, “..what if I want the stag for myself?”

“No, I won’t allow it. We have Alina for that.” His dark gaze bore into yours. His eyebrows scrunched together, suggesting the conflict within him. He wanted for you to have the stag, more than anything. But he wouldn’t let it happen if that meant losing you, he realized that now, centuries too late.

“I won’t allow you to put the life of my friend at risk.” You shook your head, Alina deserved to live a happy life with Mal. Far away from the war and the Little Palace. Somewhere far away from your Aleksander.

“So then you agree, it’s a risk. I’m not going to let you take it. Not when I just got you back.” He said, reminding you of the many times he’d lost you to the stag.

“Things are different now. We have better weapons. More Grisha willing to fight than ever. We even have two sun summoners.”

“The Fjerdans have a weapon that fired multiple bullets at once.” The haunting images of Mikhael and Dubrov being shot down entered your mind. They had been your friends too, even if you weren’t as close to them as Mal was. “And the Shu, they’ve always had far more advanced technology than us. Like I said, no one can know about you being a sun summoner.”

“But..” You longed to feel that giddy warmth you felt when you summoned, a glow that you could feel radiating from you. It was the same glow Alina had on her face whenever she summoned. The glow Zoya had when she used the wind to push you into that stone wall. You hovered one hand atop the other, waiting for something to happen. A simple spark, then nothing. A frustrated sigh left your lips.

“It won’t come that easily, my love. That’s why Alina and I must banish the fold together. Only then can we truly be together.”

“You said-” A memory comes flashing, candles and lanterns flickering. The two of you laid naked in a bed, a thin sheet covering you. His hand resting on your hip, his thumb rubbing soothing circles. He whispered something into your ear, moving his hand from your hip to glide over your collarbones. You shiver at the memory. “You said that you and I were going to change the world. So what’s changed?”

“I thought that there would ever be only you and I. That there would be no others like us. But I was wrong, we have Alina now-”

“You have me! I didn’t know it until now, but you’ve always had me.” You raised your voice, startling him. “Do you tell the same thing to all the sun summoners you meet? Or was it just me and Alina, oh wait..” You scoffed out. This was ridiculous, you came here for the truth. Not to argue with an ancient man.

“It’s not like that, I thought I had lost you forever. I mourned you for centuries, even the day I met Alina. I mourned you until you finally returned to me.” He takes your face into his hands once more. You’d become increasingly aware of just how naked he was, you eyes darting down to the towel that was holding on for dear life. “I can’t spend the rest of my life mourning you again, knowing that you may never return.”

“Fine.” You weren’t giving up, not yet. But you didn’t want to spend another second with him when he was just a slip away from flashing you. You make your way to the door, but before you could even touch the knob, you're in his arms once more.

“Where do you think you're going?” His voice was deep, raspy. His hold on your wrist was gentle as he stared at you, waiting for you to answer.

“To sleep.” You said, as if the answer was obvious. “In my room.”

Aleksander exhales, heavily sighing. “You could stay here..” Even after centuries, you were still the one person who could make his heart flutter. The only one who could make him nervous. He didn’t show it visibly. But from the smirk on your face, he could tell that you knew the effect you had on him. “..with me.”

You observed his room, hexagonal in shape. All the furniture was black, keeping to his theme. Quite possibly the most horribly decorated room you’ve ever been in.

“Do you really live like this?” His room lacked the life and warmth you seeked. There were bookshelves that ranged from floor to ceiling. Images of a forest etched onto the walls. He may have lived here, but it was clear it wasn’t his home.

“Here? Yes. But I wouldn’t call this living.” He surveyed his own room, looking at everything from his bookshelves to his domed ceiling above his bed. “Just merely surviving. The Little Palace isn’t my home.”

“And what is?” You’d already expected what his answer would be.

“You.” He hears you scoff at his statement as he lets a smile paint his features. “Our home, just north of Kribirsk.”

“We have a home together?” You tried to imagine what it would be like, a comfy little cabin in the woods. The General you knew wasn’t one for modesty, he rode around in a black carriage for Saints sake. But maybe for you, he would have settled down for a simple life.

“Well, would you call a run down castle a home?” If you closed your eyes hard enough, you could visualize it. A stone castle overgrown with vines, some of the structures had tumbled to the floor. You could hear the rushing water in the background, most likely a river. Fields of lavender surrounded the castle. The lavender and honey bar of soap came to mind, he remembered what you smelt like. A smile came to your lips. “What, do you think that's funny?”

“No, it’s just..lavender and honey. You remembered.” You teased, using your hand to cover your mouth to subside the laughter that was bubbling in your throat.

“Besides your belongings, it was the only thing that kept you fresh in my memory.” He walks closer to you, something akin to cinnamon, rain, and honey wafting towards you. Such a similar scent, but so different.

“Well,” You said, removing the gold kefta revealing the black slip on you had worn underneath, “If we’re going to sleep in the same bed, can you please put on some pants.” You set the kefta on a chair, feeling his gaze on you. His eyes taking in your form as you kept your back to him. The next thing you heard was the shuffling of his feet, then his towel dropping to the ground. Your eyes widened as you resisted the urge to whip your head around.

“You can look.” He said, but you knew he hadn’t even put on his trousers. “It’s not like you haven’t seen me naked before.”

“I know that, but I haven’t yet in this lifetime.” You let out a nervous laugh as you toyed with the lace detailing of your slip on.

“We can change that now if you’d like.” This time, you whip your head around. You're thankful to see that he’s got his trousers on now, along with a shirt. The corners of his lips quirk up as he takes in your reaction, “I’m just kidding.” He said, followed by a whisper, “maybe..”

“No, no. You and I are just going to sleep together. I mean sleep in the bed together. As you know, like friends, but not friends-” You stop yourself before you could go on. “Aht, you know what I mean.”

“Are you nervous?” He questioned, his eyes looking at how you fidgeted with your clothes. “You always find something to fidget with when you’re nervous.” The statement made you drop the lace of the slip on, clasping your hands together behind your back.

“I’m fine.” liar. But who wouldn’t be nervous? This was the infamous Darkling, and you were going to sleep next to him. You reassured yourself that you weren’t like the others. How many of his flings did he invite to stay the night when he was finished with them? Probably none. Besides, you weren’t a fling, not even close to it.

“You know you can trust me, right? I won’t do anything you're not comfortable with.” You let out a hum as you made your way towards his bed. He copied your actions, lifting up the covers and getting in them. He patted the spot next to him, waiting for you to move. You go to take off your night slippers and place them at the foot of the bed, noticing that he had also placed his boots near the foot of the bed.

“So, that’s where I get the habit from.” You said as you got into the covers, sitting awkwardly next to him. “I assume I get my many habits from you then. Just not sure which ones.”

“There’s a long list of them,” The fidgeting of your hands and feet make him laugh, “That one, surely doesn’t come from me.” Before you know it, you’re encapsulated by his arms. You let out an oomph at the sudden movement.

“Comfortable now?”

“Very.” You replied as you snaked your arm across his waist, your head resting on his chest. Listening to the steady beat of his heart. It was your first time being in his arms, but it felt so natural to you. A memory from Caryeva surfaced, golden eyes that stared back at you as you melted in his embrace. You shook the memory from your mind, not wanting to think about him when you had Aleksander next to you. “Do you think we could visit the castle?” You whispered, playing with the fabric of his tunic.

“Anything you want.” One of his hands goes to your hair, gently playing with it. The other stroking the soft skin of your shoulder. It was a routine that came naturally to the both of you, as if the missing puzzle pieces had fallen into place. “That’s actually where I went for the week. I knew that sooner or later, you would remember me. I wanted our home to be just the way you remembered it when you arrived.”

“That’s very nice of you…” Sleep was finally catching up to you as the truth weighed heavy on your mind. Aleksander continued to play with your hair even when you saw the steady rise and fall of your chest, signalling you were asleep. Careful not to wake you, he kisses the back of your head with a smile. You were finally in his arms once more.

-

THE feeling of someone breathing behind you had pulled you out of your sleep. It wasn’t a situation that you found yourself in often. But the warmth he had been radiating had almost lulled you back to sleep, almost. The arm that was loosely thrown around your waist had pulled you closer until he could rest his chin on your shoulder.

“Good morning, my darling.” His deep, raspy morning voice had stirred something in your stomach, a fire igniting in your core. “How did you sleep?” You removed his hand from your waist as you turned to face him.

“Fine, now that you’re beside me.” You had to admit, it was weird sleeping in the same bed so soon after finding out the truth. But you didn’t want to take any moment with him for granted. “I had another memory come to me while I was asleep.” He urges for you to continue, “I think we were at the castle. The sun was setting, giving the room the most beautiful haze. There was no music playing, but we were dancing in each other's arms.”

You see him smile as you describe the memory to him. He abruptly gets out of the bed, only to offer his hand to you. You wearily place your hand into his, a giggle leaving your lips as he tugs you out of bed and into his embrace.

“There’s no music!” You said as he twirled you around.

“It didn’t stop us last time.” He swiftly replied before pulling you back into his arms, settling for a slow sway. You could feel the fabric of his trouser brush against your legs at his every movement. Laying your head on his chest, a feeling of ease overtook you. You closed your eyes as you got lost in his hold.

It was a feeling so foreign to you. All your life you had always been on edge, even as a child at Keramzin. You could never let your guard down. But with Aleksander there was a side to you that you never knew. One that allowed you to relax and finally be happy. It was a side that neither of your closest friends had seen, ever. When survival was always your priority, you were never given the chance to be at ease.

“Open your eyes.” Once more the room had been engulfed by your light. You looked at your hands as they were glowing, a shocked laugh leaving you.

“Are you doing this?”

He shook his head before replying, “No. This is all you.” You noticed the lack of his shadows in the room, signifying he had no part in what was happening.

“I thought you said it wouldn’t be easy for me to conjure light.” You closed your hands and watched as the light faded, the only indication that you had summoned was the glow on your face.

“I guess being at ease helped you. From here it should get easier by the day to call forth the light.” He explained, a prideful look on his face.

“Does that mean I can have the stag now?”

He lets out a sigh, “No, like I said. I won’t risk your life for the stag again.” His resolve remained strong, never once showing a change of heart.

“But I’m getting stronger, within months I’ll be able to summon at my fullest potential!” You insisted, keen on having the stag on you instead of Alina.

“The key word here is months, we don’t have that time anymore. I’ve already spent months training and mentoring Alina. The people are getting restless, they want to see the shadow fold gone. Immediately.” He responded.

You opened your mouth to reply, only to get cut off by the frantic knocking at the door.

“What is it?” Aleksander growled out, irritated by the interruption.

“Sir! It’s the girl! She seems to be missing. We’ve searched everywhere for her, General.” Fedyor’s panicked voice rang out. “I’m so sorry, I’ve failed you, General Kirigan.” You roll your eyes as you go to open the door. Probably not the smartest idea since you were just in your nightgown.

“I’m right here Fedyor, no need to worry.” He takes in the disheveled state of your hair. Not yet combed since you’d just woken up.

“Oh sorry, did I interrupt?” He sends you a suggestive wink, which he prays that the General didn’t see.

“No. In fact, I was just leaving.” You looked back to Aleksander, a bewildered look on his face. “Have a nice day, General! I’ll see you later for dinner, like we discussed.” You hoped he caught onto your excuse.

“So, you and the General..” Fedyor began, his shoulder bumping into yours in a teasing manner.

“We were just merely discussing plans.” You lied, which wasn’t very much far from the truth.

He gives you a once over, “in your sleep attire?”

“It was an urgent matter.” You replied, stilling as you remembered you had left your kefta in his room. You’d just have to fetch it later.

“I’m sure it was.” He snickered. Soon the two of you parted ways, you to your room as he went to combat training. You decided to get changed for the day. You put on your usual military outfit, along with your weapons strapped to you. It’s not like you needed them when you could summon the sun from the tips of your fingers at any given moment.

No one can know. His voice rang clear in your mind, reminding you to limit the use of your summoning. You flopped onto your bed with a sigh. You were in the Little Palace and still managed to find nothing to do. You remembered the books you had so carelessly tossed when you encountered the Apparat.

Reaching for one of the books, you began to read it. You didn’t know how much time had passed when you decided to put down the book. It had been intriguing, but the strain on your eyes was becoming too much. The sun was still shining bright, you decided that you could explore the grounds on your own.

You threw on your jacket, doubling checking to make sure you had your weapons on you. The cold winter wind nipped at your skin as you clutched your jacket closer to you, trying to maintain your body heat. You resisted the urge to join the Grisha as you walked past the combat training area. The thought of fresh air had been appealing, hoping that it would help clear your mind. But it did little to ease it. There were so many questions that you didn’t know if Aleksander could answer. Have you always been a sun summoner? Why wouldn’t Aleksander let you take Morozova’s collar for yourself? How long had it been since he last saw you?

Soon, you found yourself in front of a fountain, a bench a few paces away from it. The old pictures on the stone made you laugh, how wrong their story was. You knew Aleksander, or as they called him, the Black Heretic, had regretted creating the fold. He did so out of anguish, the loss of you becoming too much. Ever since then, the two of you had collectively worked together to destroy the fold. But it seemed like the Saints had other plans for you each time.

“Something funny, otkazat’sya?” Zoya’s voice boomed out from behind. You spun around, finding that Zoya had been accompanied by the oprichniki Grisha as well.

“Shouldn’t you be minding your business, Zoya?” You must admit, it was a lame comeback. But it was the first thing that came to mind.

“I’ll mind my business when you finally leave the palace.” She and the oprichniki took two steps towards you as you took a step back. “Why are you even here? What could the General possibly want from you?” She taunted.

“Well, there’s a long list. Would you like to know?” You didn’t wait for her to reply before continuing, “For starters, I’m not easy. Not like you.” Zoya raises her fist, nearly summoning before the oprichniki stops her. “The General actually enjoys my company, can you believe it! I don’t need to seduce him to keep his attention.” She breaks loose from the oprichniki’s hold and lunges towards you. Before she can even reach you, she has a pistol drawn to her head, your pistol.

“Take another step and you’ll see for yourself if the Saints are actually true.” You threatened. Zoya could have easily summoned air to misdirect the bullet, no one would see. “You know, after being reprimanded, I would have thought that you’d learn your place. But perhaps you haven’t, so let me remind you.” You put your pistol away as you approached her. She lets out a yelp as you grabbed a handful of her hair, forcing her to her knees as her eyes flew up to yours. Your other hand had a harsh grip around her jaw. “I maybe be otkazat’sya, but you’ll find that my aim is accurate. I make no mistakes, Zoya. Remember that the next time you try to cross me.” You released her as she fell to the ground, tears in her eyes. You didn’t know if they were from embarrassment or fear, it’s not like you cared either way.

“Well, well, well, just what exactly do we have here?” Aleksander’s form came abruptly from the forest, as if he had been watching his whole time and he just now decided to make his appearance.

“Nothing. They were just leaving. Isn’t that right Zoya?” You stared at her as the oprichniki helped her up, the two of them scurrying away, leaving you alone with Aleksander. “Pathetic, aren’t they? How long were you watching?”

“I saw them following you and decided to follow them. I knew you could handle yourself, but I wanted to watch the show.” He entwined your arms together as the two of you took the long way back to his room, a path where no one would be able to interrupt or spot you.

“Did you enjoy it?” You questioned, stroking the soft fabric of his kefta.

“Seeing you put Zoya rightfully in her place? Yes. Although I do wish it was you who was on your knees.” He suggested, making a gasp leave your lips. “Anyways, it was time to fetch you for lunch. I know you didn’t have breakfast, and you wouldn’t be able to last until dinner.”

“Why thanks for the concern, my knight in shining armor.” You looked at his outfit again, choosing to reword your statement. “Correction, my darkling in a black kefta.” Now that you were thinking about it, you’d never seen him in anything else but black. Sure there were some memories here and there of him in a different colored top, but he left those colors behind when he’d lost you.

“So, what’re we having for lunch today?” You asked, the two of you continued walking towards his room. There were no interruptions, no others. Just Aleksander and y/n, the way it had always been. The way it’ll always be, until eternity.

-

MEANWHILE in the sweltering heat of Baghra’s hut, Alina struggled to get a grip on her sun summoning.

“What’s wrong with you, child?” Baghra chided, the thought of hitting Alina with her stick had crossed her mind one too many times today. She was about ready to throw her into the fire pit.

“I’ve noticed something.” She began, “Ever since my friend arrived at the Little Palace, it’s like there’s a side of Ale..” Alina let his name die on the tip of her tongue, it felt strange to be saying his given name. “..there’s a side of the Darkling I never knew existed. She’s brought out something in him. Something I haven’t been able to do in the months I’ve been here.”

She felt something comparable to hatred flow through her veins. But she could never bring herself to hate you. Not when you were practically her sister. No- she hated the way she’d so easily given into the Darkling, and how easily he’d thrown her away. She hated herself for giving up on Mal.

“You must tell me child, what is her name?” Alina had never heard such urgency from the old hag before.

“Y/n, her name is y/n y/l/n.” Her eyes widen in shock as she sees the smallest smile come to Baghra’s face. “Do you need a healer or something? Why are you smiling?”

Baghra left Alina in silence as her mind whirled with the possibilities. But there was one echo that was louder than the rest of them: Hope.

-

Mizpah tags: @all-art-is-quite-useless @devilxangel @musicconversedance @parabatai-winchester@runawayolives​ @tartiflvtte @rbg1933 @thatguppienamedbae@batgal96​ @thebarisinhell99 @5hundreddaysofsummer​ @kaqua​ @queenseneschal @benbarnes-supremacy @princessofpersia96 @takethee @dontjinx-it @freakytillthemoon @amortentiaaaa@marvel-ousnesss @coolninjavoid @areomalfoy​ @pansysgirlfriend @universalirwin @leavejuliaalone @xx-winwin-wednesday-xx​ @honeyofthegods @lunamyangel @d-list-goddess​ @comphersjost @telepathdestiel @the-celestial-kitsune @thestoryofmylife9 @s-corpionem @pancakeisreading @sanna2020​ @secretsandtinyshadows @savannah-elliott @maliasblue @tea-effect @disneyandharrypotter @futuristicpinklemur @tanyaherondale​ @the-puff-is-strong-with-this-one @hxgreeves @yourboiialucard​ @thereeallink @ladyblablabla @wolfieellsworld​ @p3nny4urth0ught5​ @louweasleymalfoy @the-natureofme@itsloveroflife @oddlittleminx @within-thehollowcrown​ @itsfangirlmendes @heyyimlaynna @jgtfvhsg @gloriousmoneyrascalbiscuit @auggie2000​ @itsnotquimey @jtownraindancer @sonnensplitter @sarcastic-and-cool @poulterfilms @spookybooisa @stickyknightflowerbailiff​ @hollandsweetie @yungkvte @evyiione @2023-padfoot @kawaiimarshmallow @nikki-sixx-is-daddy @sanktawylan @blackbirddaredevil23​ @athenamikaelson​ @mellifluous-cosmos​ @mylittlecrazyworldofinterest​ @iiclarixa​ @lcandothisallday​ @agent-jbarnes​ @cleverzonkwombatsludge​ @tiiffanym​ @spnstuff-mrvl​

Mizpah taglist closed for now </333

S.a.B. forever tags: @deceivedeer​

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

The Long Con Part Eleven

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader   Rating: T   Notes: I hope y’all had a good week! 💕 Warnings: Cursing, a lil angst, some fluff...Well, mostly fluff. Summary: The wedding day had been much more relaxed— for you, anyway.

You would’ve given anything to spend the entire day in bed with Marcus. You relished in his soothing touches, relaxing little murmurs. But you eventually pried yourself out of his arms, unpacked the few things you’d hastily thrown into your toiletries bag, and rejoined the family downstairs.

You were so tired from the work you’d done the night before, and felt so worn from what you’d admitted to the Pikes. But rather than hang around the house, you went with Marnie and Jill to drop checks off to the vendors, and helped to set up the space for the rehearsal dinner. You wanted to show them that there were no hard feelings, especially after they’d apologized several more times at breakfast. Besides, you needed the distraction. You hadn’t heard anything back from Melinda about the information that you’d given her or the team in regards to your grandmother’s potential involvement in forging Leda and the Swan (potential— you were still insisting that it was still possible that it wasn’t her; that painting showed signs of age, wear-and-tear; the materials were old; you didn’t even know where she was—); your mind drifted back to the shock on the Pike’s faces from that morning every few minutes. It was odd, knowing that Jill and Marnie now knew so much more about you, but still chattered amiably with you. If anything, this incident, your absolute honesty, seemed to have brought you closer to the family. Odd. Odd, but comforting.

-- The most vindicating moment came when Kimberly arrived at the rehearsal dinner and spotted you. The color seemed to drain from her face completely, her smile dropping in a second. You just offered her a bright grin and a quick wave. “Who are you waving at?” Marcus asked, looking around. You looked up at him, finding that his smile disappeared just as quickly, his face darkening at the sight of her. “Don’t,” You urged softly, wrapping your arm around his middle, “We’re here for Marnie, and we’re fine. There’s no need for a scene.” “I can think of a reason.” “C’mon.... Marky.” His lips quirked into a reluctant smile at your teasing, and you smoothed your hand over his side as he sighed through his nose. “Now is not the time to say anything,” You added. “...Looks like I won’t have to.” You frowned, turning back to see Jill and Marnie approaching Kimberly. Your eyes widened slightly. “What are they doing?” You asked. “I do not know,” Marcus admitted quietly. You couldn’t hear the conversation from there, but you could just make out a flash of irritation on Kimberly’s face, a rising flush of frustration before she stomped toward the door. Your brows rose sharply as she left and Jill and Marnie disappeared back into the crowd of revelers. Marcus hummed, satisfied. “You were right,” He agreed, resting his chin on your shoulder, “No need for a scene.” -- 

You leaned back against Marcus’ chest, smiling softly as you watched Hazel and Marnie do their first dance. Marcus’ arms were wrapped around your waist, his cheek rested against your temple. He swayed the two of you back and forth to the music. The ceremony had gone perfectly. Jill and Marcus had both cried a bit; you’d even seen Walter shed a couple of tears. The wedding day had been much more relaxed— for you, anyway. Marcus had been keeping close at the reception especially, and you were happy to be held. You’d met Marcus’ ex-wife, Deanna, and for all of the nervousness that had welled up in you, you’d found that she was very amiable, even sweet. She and Marcus treated one another like old friends, teased and joked. You didn’t feel intimidated by their ease. She’d been more than kind to you. It was nice to see Marcus so relaxed with his family and friends. You’d found yourself watching him throughout the day, and realizing just how much you would miss him. Not just the closeness that came with being near someone, but the closeness that came with being around Marcus. You were certain that once you returned to D.C., things would return to the work-centric relationship that the two of you had previously, and that was so odd to consider. The man now knew so many of your secrets: your favorite foods, books, pastimes… Where you were ticklish. Not that many people had such information. You were going to miss his family, too. “What are you thinking about?” He murmured.

You were thinking that you wanted to freeze this moment. You wanted to keep it somewhere safe, hold onto it for the days when the world felt like it was dark and closing in-- days that were surely just around the corner. You wanted to memorize what it felt like to be cuddled against Marcus’ chest, to be held like you were precious; you wanted to keep this feeling of warmth, this feeling of safety, and happiness.

You wanted this to be real. “...How happy they are,” You answered, smiling as Hazel rested her forehead against Marnie’s. -- 

“Okay, if you’re not gonna finish that frosting, give it,” Marcus said. You rolled your eyes, pushing the excess icing that you’d cleared off of the piece of cake onto Marcus’ plate. “You’re gonna have such a headache in the morning,” You teased, tugging your plate back toward yourself. “Am not,” Marcus chuckled before nudging your leg with his, “You having fun?” “I’m with you, of course I’m having fun,” You said honestly. Marcus grinned as he reached out, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it. Then he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’m glad you’re here,” He murmured, “I wouldn’t wanna be here with anyone else.” You turned your head, kissing Marcus softly, and giggling after a moment. He leaned back, brow furrowed. “What is it?” “You taste like frosting,” You laughed, unable to help it. Marcus grinned, dipping his finger in the frosting he’d scraped from your plate. “You know what?” He asked before plopping the dollop on your nose. You groaned, batting his hand away and reaching for your napkin. “I don’t need any more icing, Pike, I’m sweet enough.” 

--

You settled down against Marcus, yawning widely. It was nearly three in the morning. Your feet were sore and you were all danced out, but you couldn’t remember the last time you’d had so much fun. You reached up, rubbing Marcus’ smooth cheek. “Can’t believe you shaved,” You pouted a little. “You miss the uh… The beard that was to-be?” Marcus asked. “I was getting used to it. Looked good,” You rested your chin on his chest. He smiled, stroking his hand over your shoulder. “You have everything you need for tomorrow?” “Mhm.” “Flight leaves in...What, eight hours?” Marcus glanced toward the clock on his dresser, “We should get some sleep.” You grunted, turning your head and closing your eyes. “Alright,” You mumbled, “Sleep now.” After a few moments of quiet, you heard Marcus say, “Oh, I forgot to tell you.” “Mm?” “There’s been a break in the da Vinci.” Fear gripped you as your eyes opened, your heart ticking up in your chest. You were quiet, waiting for him to go on. When he didn’t, you glanced up, finding him half-asleep already. “Tell you in the morning,” He finally mumbled, yawning widely. You smiled, leaning up and pecking his jaw. “Sweet dreams, Agent Pike,” You murmured. “Mm,” He hummed, giving your shoulder a light squeeze, “Sweet dreams, baby.” The murmur thrilled you, and you dropped another kiss to Marcus’ clothed chest before closing your eyes again. 

-- “Now you come back and visit,” Walter patted your shoulder before letting go of you. “I’d really love that,” You nodded, meaning it. You turned to Jill, smiling as she drew you into her arms and hugged you tightly. “You’ll call when you land,” She said. “We will,” You promised. “I told you we would, mom,” Marcus chuckled. He waited until she’d pulled away before leaning in to hug her. “Just, remember to— He forgets.” “I will make sure he remembers,” You smiled. “Alright, fly safe! Well, as safe as you can as passengers,” Jill glanced between the two of you, smiling as Walter tucked Jill under his arm. “Alright,” Marcus took hold of your hand, “Let’s go.” -- You took in Marcus’ profile as he swiped through the onscreen entertainment options. He was distracted, which gave you plenty of time to just...Watch. You remembered the tightness in his jaw on the previous flight, the way his leg had been bouncing. He glanced over at you, doing a double-take when he saw you looking at him. “What is it?” He asked. “You are so relaxed right now,” You smiled, “You were practically shaking the plane when we left D.C.” Marcus chuckled, leaning back in his seat a little bit, “Well… We’re done, it’s… Over, you know. It worked. Like holy shit, it worked,” He tipped his head back, looking up, “I just lied to my family for a week.” “Hey,” You soothed, nudging his arm with yours, “We just lied to your family for a week.” He chuckled, tipping his head to the side to look at you. “Yeah,” He agreed, “I could not have done this without you.” “Maybe next time you’ll just let Marnie set you up with Kimberly again.” “After the shit she pulled? Not a chance,” Marcus shook his head. He took hold of your hand, intertwining your fingers, “I still can’t believe you told my parents...What you did.” You looked down at your joined hands. “I kinda can’t believe I did, either,” You admitted quietly, “But I trust them… I trust you.” 

There was a pause before Marcus untangled his hand from yours. You felt panic snake through your veins, but Marcus’ hand raised and cupped your cheek. He drew you in for a sweet kiss. You leaned up into it, resting your hand on Marcus’ thigh and sighing softly. He rested his forehead against yours as the kiss broke, and you kept your eyes closed for a few moments, reveling in the feeling.

“I should probably stop doing that, huh,” He said softly. Please don’t, You thought.

“...Probably,” You conceded aloud.

Tag list: @hufflepuffing-all-day-long ; @spideysimpossiblegirl ; @blueeyesatnight ; @elen-aranel ; @yespolkadotkitty ; @artsymaddie ; @phoenixhalliwell ; @lunaserenade ; @winniedaboo  ; @empress-palpat1ne ; @randomness501 ; @nutmeg-20 ; @leonieb ; @the-feckless-wonder ; @lou-la-lou ; @captain-jebi ; @supernaturalgirl  ; @naturenebula21 ; @evelynseventyr ; @giselatropicana ; @heatherbel ; @marydjarin ; @annathewitch ; @absurdthirst ; @hnt-escape ; @writingletterstothefire ; @misswriter ; @bison-writes ; @xx-small-town-witch-xx ; @ajeff855 ; @hellovanessax​ ; @drinkingwhileblogging​ ; @meanperegrine​ ; @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan​ ; @autumnleaves1991-blog ; @xoxo-callie ; @mentally-dating-din-djarin​ ; @frenchyjuju

[greenygreenland]

What I'd Do For You:

-imagine Roy as your adoptive father

-he'd be so flawed but he'd try his hardest

-I write for females because that's what I'm most comfortable with, but it's not too prominent (please don't be offended! It's only what I'm comfortable with!)

Summary: You're feeling down. Roy's here to help.

Today was nothing short of a bad day. It poured as soon as you stepped out of the house, and before you could grab your umbrella, you realised you were going to be late. Not long after, you ran straight into Ed and Al, who both ignored you in favour of chasing some guy down the street.

Whatever, you told yourself. Not like I needed a 'hi' from my best friends anyway.

Not long after, a car zoomed by and splashed muddy water at you. If it weren't for the rain, you'd be caked in the stuff. As you continued down the street, some guy thought it would be fun to mug you. Of course, when he found out you were a state alchemist, he made a run for it. But that didn't make you feel better, not when there were people staring at you like you were a nuisance.

What did you ever do to them anyway? Maybe it was just the fact today was a terrible Monday afternoon.

When you got to Roy's office, your clothes were sopping wet, your hair a matted mess, and your heart, very much hardened and cold. You softly closed the door behind you. There was no point in slamming it when you didn't have the energy to be angry in the first place.

"(Y/n)?" Roy stared at you incredulously. "What happened to you?" You pointed to the window.. The pouring rain and gray clouds were enough of an answer. "Everything happened, that's what." He raised a brow with a short sigh. "'Everything' is quite vague, don't you think?" He stood and made his way to a cabinet. From seemingly nowhere, he found a towel and threw it at you.

"Thanks Roy." You ran it through your hair and placed it on the couch to sit on. It was just as wet as your clothes, but it wasn't like anyone had a blow dryer on hand. Roy took a seat across from you on the opposing couch. "Care to tell me what happened today?"

You thought back to the Elric brothers, then the mugging and everything else you had to go through today. Roy listened intently. "Why did you leave the house so late?" he inquired. "You could have been here at eight o'clock sharp if you hadn't been up all night reading. Then you could have avoided that mugger, the rain, and everything in between." You huffed. "So what? Changing one thing wouldn’t change the day. And besides, it was a good book. What else was I supposed to do?"

"Put it down." Roy plainly offered. "Save that 'last page' for tomorrow, or better yet, sleep before three in the morning." You didn't like the way he was looking at you, as if he were deciding on whether he should be disappointed, frustrated, or annoyed with you. But bad habits died hard. It wasn't easy to break out of those cycles.

You leaned back into the couch. Defeat crossed your eyes, and that was when Roy realized how tired you looked. It wasn't because of your constant travels, or the fact that Edward and Alphonse ignored you completely (he'd give them a piece of his mind later on), but because you were burnt out.

And maybe feeling a bit down.

"You've been studying a lot." Roy stated. You didn't need him to point out the obvious. It was no secret you were doing your best to help the Elric brothers on their journey towards finding their bodies. "Have you found anything useful?" You shook your head with a tight frown. There was so much you needed to work out, so many variables that didn't add up, and so many frauds you needed to uncover.

"Whenever we're close," you mumbled, "our goal keeps getting farther away. Sometimes I feel so useless while Ed and Al go off on their own accord. I just...I don't know." Your shoulders slumped and Roy's heart began to ache. "It's so hard, and I'm really..." A sigh escaped your lips.

"Tired?" Roy finished. He knew that look well, the one where your eyes darkened with clouds and you looked like you wanted to scream when you couldn't. Long ago, he had the same look. Silently, he swore he'd never do it again. At least, not when you were around.

Seeing that same look on your face made him sick to the stomach. "Take a day off," he started. "The Lieutenant is here so don't worry. As for the Elric brothers, I don't think they'll need your help now. They’re fine as is if you ask me." Roy winced at his words. He didn't mean to make it sound like you were unwanted. In fact, he wouldn't do that even if he was paid.

"Maybe I'm not needed by them anymore.” you concluded. “They're busy anyway, so they won't miss me. It’s been weeks since we last talked actually. And besides, Ed’s really great at everything he does. Same with Al. They’re skilled, smart, everything I’m not." You smiled and it was a bit watery.

Roy's lips parted. No, no, no, that wasn't what he meant. The urge to punch himself in the face was overwhelming. Why was he so bad at wording things?

You stood and folded the wet towel. "I'll take the day off. I'm not sure what I'll do though."

"Wait--"

"If you need me, I'll be around the block somewhere." You looked like you were about to cry, and all Roy could do was watch. He wanted to say something, but what if he made it worse? Saying 'Don't cry!' wasn't exactly comforting, and by the looks of it, you weren't in the mood to talk anything through.

A forced smile made its way to your lips. "I'll be back later Roy."

And just like that, you were gone. The door closed shut with a small click, leaving Roy alone in the quiet office. He stared at the phone on his desk tensely. Hughes was good with people, and he knew how to talk to (Y/n) better than most. If Roy called then maybe...

No. Why should he have to rely on Maes? This was (Y/n). He could deal with his daughter just fine. "Teenagers." He found himself making his way to the phone "Why are they so hard to understand?” The familiar beeping sounded on the other end as he dialed the number.

“Hello, could you connect me to Maes Hughes?”

-----

The lone bench you took refuge on was lonely. But you were fine with that. Here, no one could see you through all the pouring rain and darkened clouds. As your tears mixed in with the cold droplets, you stared into the far off distance. The trees swayed in the occasional breeze and you shivered.

Maybe you should have brought a coat.

Suddenly, the rain stopped pounding against your head. Your dampened hair had rivers flowing down it, and the tears that quietly came to a stop left your cheeks with stains.

“So this is where you’ve been,” a voice calmly said. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Why, after an hour, did he come looking for you in the rain? It wasn’t like it mattered. Roy settled by your side, the umbrella hovering above. “Here,” he handed you your coat, “you’re shivering.”

You pushed the coat away with a shake of your head. “I don’t need it.” There was a crack in your voice you covered with a cough. If Roy noticed or not, he didn’t show it. Instead, he helped you put on the coat. “It would be inconvenient if you were sick,” he decided. “How are you supposed to help the Elrics with a cold?”

That didn’t matter. The Elrics were busy for all you cared, and it wasn’t like they needed you anyway. “I’m dead weight, dad.” The words made your eyes sting again. “They don’t-t-they don’t need me.”

“And why is that?” Roy’s gentle tone made the tears fall fast. “Because, dad, I’m useless. Edward’s so much better at everything. He--he’s always saving the day and figuring out all of this country’s problem’s. And...and when I try to help, I always mess it up.”

You thought back to earlier today, where you bumped into the boys spontaneously. They might’ve been busy, but they blatantly ignored you. And the fact that they hadn’t called all week made you worry. Had you done something wrong? No, maybe they didn’t care for you anymore because you were so useless.

“I...I don’t know what to do.” With the umbrella over your head, Roy saw every tear as clear as day. He watched your shoulders tense and your fists clench into tight fists. You were trying to stop crying, but the tears kept coming and coming like a river.

How useless of you.

“Come here.” You didn't want Roy to see your face. “Come here,” he repeated. You hesitantly scooted closer to him on the soaking bench. He held the umbrella in his left hand and pulled you close with his other. When was the last time he actually hugged you like this? He couldn’t remember, and that made him feel guilty.

Was it his fault that you thought so lowly of yourself? Maybe he should have been more adamant on showing how proud he was of your accomplishments. Becoming a State Alchemist at this age was more than a simple privilege. It was a precedent that no generation had ever seen in their lives.

“Why do you compare yourself to Fullmetal?” he inquired, rubbing your arm comfortingly. “He’s not you.”

“But he’s better than me and I can’t measure up to him.” Roy shook his head dismissively. For a moment, you wondered you disappointed him. “It doesn’t matter what Fullmetal is, (Y/n). He’s strong, I admit, but the most hot-headed kid I’ve ever met. Unlike him out, you never let emotions blind your choices. That’s something Fullmetal can’t do. As for strength, you don’t need that.”

He smiled a little and it was so warm. It wasn’t everyday you got to see this side of Roy. He was always caught up in paperwork, plans, and looking after what he worked so hard to accomplish. “You have enough wits to outsmart me. Remember that time Fullmetal challenged me to a match?”

You nodded. “I joined because I didn’t think he could handle it. Ed didn’t want my help, but I ended up coming along anyway.” A smug smirk made its way up Roy’s lips. “And who lasted the longest?”

“Me.”

“And why was that?”

"Because I read your attack patterns?" You uncertainly replied. Roy frowned. "Say it like you mean it."

"Because I read your attack patterns." you repeated. An approving look made its way up your dad's face. "Exactly. Fullmetal has wit, but you are a much more terrifying opponent." You sniffled with a huff. "I'm not--I'm not even close to your level."

"You don't have to be." Roy turned his gaze to the pouring rain, as if he were thinking about how useless his alchemy would be. "If you believed in yourself more, then you will advance farther than you've already come."

That wasn't true. How could you believe in yourself when you felt like an absolute failure? It didn't matter how many successes you've had in the past, because what if they were all flukes? Some day, your luck would run out. Then you'd let your dad down, along with Ed and Al and Hawkeye and Uncle Maes and everyone else you knew.

"You're not a failure, if that's what you're thinking." Roy blurted out. "I couldn't be more proud of how far you've come. The day I met you, I thought I'd fail you. Look where we are now." He laughed a little and it made you relax in his hold. "If you were a failure, you wouldn't have become a reowned State Alchemist. You wouldn't have survived in the most dire times either, and you wouldn't have made me so proud of you."

Your eyes widened. Had you heard him right? You had to be hearing things. Roy met your gaze and smiled warmly. "Yes, I'm proud of you. Why wouldn't I be?" For a moment, you remained still. The gears in your head churned like clockwork, dissecting and rewinding the words Roy had spoken. You tentatively wrapped your arms around Roy's middle.

Yes, I'm proud of you.

You buried your head into his shoulder.

Why wouldn't I be?

And then you cried. Today was nothing short of a bad day, but if you hadn't forgotten your umbrella, gotten ignored by the Elrics, nearly mugged, or showed up late, then you wouldn't have been able to hear those words and the silent I love you's.

IF YOU LIKE THIS, PLEASE REBLOG (IT HELPS ME OUT SOOOO MUCH AS A WRITER!)

[marauderundercover]

Taking Chances Ch. 19: Lack of Communication (Wayne Gala)

AO3

Prev

The shrill ringing of her phone tugs Marinette from her sewing machine. Glancing at the caller ID, she grins widely.

“Hey Uncle Jagged.” She says, pushing her chair away from her desk. It’d been a couple weeks since she last heard from the man as his tour had really picked up at the end. It was practically back to back concerts, so that didn’t leave a lot of time for phone calls or face times.

“Little Rocker! Glad I caught you. I have an event next week and I was hoping I could drop by the bakery so you could fix a tear in one of my suits.” He says. Marinette winces. That’s what she was supposed to do. Tell Uncle Jagged about...well, everything.

“Yeah, about that…” She trails off, wishing she’d thought to tell him about the whole ‘adopted’ thing the last time she’d seen him in person. “I’m actually not in Paris right now. I’m in Gotham spending the summer with my birth father.” She says, deciding to just rip the bandaid off. There’s silence for a minute. Then two. She looks down at the phone, frowning. Did he hang up?

“You’re in Gotham?” He finally says.

“Yup.” She says, sighing. “I’m really sorry I won’t be able to fix your suit.”

“What, no, this is great! See the event is in Gotham! It’s just a bunch of rich people and- hold on. Penny!” He yells. She catches bits and pieces of their conversation, Penny agreeing wholeheartedly with whatever it is Jagged has suddenly decided. “I have a rocking idea.” He adds.

“Okay? I’m listening.” She says, glancing at the new dress she’d started that was pinned on her dress form. She was having trouble with the shape and was quickly getting frustrated with her struggles.

“You could come with! As MDC, of course. You could wear one of your designs and get known in Gotham. The event is supposed to be highly publicized. Penny thinks it’d be a good way to get known in the US. So, whatdya say?” Jagged asks, and Marinette can just tell that he’s grinning widely, can hear it in his voice. She thinks for a minute, glancing at the dress form with a new sense of determination.

“I’ll have to double check with my dad.” She says, trying to think if they had any plans for next week.

“Of course! Let me know soon, okay? Penny says she wants to start publicizing MDC’s appearance if you’re gonna come.” Jagged says. Marinette agrees before hanging up, thinking. Would her dad let her go alone? Or would he insist on coming with? She knew Gotham was dangerous, it’s why she hadn’t gone anywhere by herself despite being a hero herself. She didn’t want to risk her Miraculous falling into the wrong hands, even if the person didn’t realize what they had. Making up her mind, she sets off to find her dad and ask about the event. She still wasn’t quite sure what it was, just that there would be plenty of big names and plenty of journalists- the perfect opportunity to build up a clientele outside of France. Checking his study first, she’s unsurprised to see he’s not there. Knowing chances were good that he was in the cave, she pulls a domino mask out of her purse. Her dad had asked her a couple days ago to wear one in the cave just in case they had unexpected visitors. Kinda like how her and Chat Noir had shown up unexpectedly that one time. Complete accident. Changing the time on the clock, she presses the button that opens the entrance, sliding in and walking through the passage. Glancing into the cave, she grins when she sees her dad, in costume, sitting at the computer.

“Hey B!” She says, knowing not to call him Dad while he was in the cowl. Something about it making him seem less intimidating, or something.

“Ladybird.” He nods. She frowns, glancing at the computer screen and wincing when she sees Superman on screen.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were busy.” She apologizes, waving awkwardly at the man on the screen. He quirks an eyebrow.

“Hello. Ladybird, was it?” He asks and she nods.

“Er, yeah. Ladybird. Nice to meet you.” She says, rocking back and forth on her heels, eyes darting around the cave. Maybe she should just leave and ask later.

“Is everything alright?” Her dad asks, obviously confused at her presence in the cave. Not that she wasn’t allowed, she just didn’t spend a lot of time there.

“I was just wondering if I could go to an event next week with my Uncle.” She says, trying to stay vague. He’s silent for a moment before nodding.

“We can discuss details later, but that should be fine.” He says. Marinette grins, bouncing up and down in excitement.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She cheers, resisting the urge to hug him. “Bye Mr. Superman!” She adds, waving before running back through the passage to work on her dress some more. This was going to be amazing!

---

Penny had picked Marinette up early the morning of the Gala. She still wasn’t sure what it was for, but that didn’t bother her. She was just excited that she had finally finished her newest dress in time for the Gala. Penny had insisted on her coming over early so that she could help Marinette do her hair and makeup, which she was thankful for. Selina apparently had something to do tonight and couldn’t help her, and she would’ve definitely been her first choice. Smiling down at her dress, Marinette looks at Penny with a grin.

“Could you take a picture for me without my face covering so I can show my parents later?” She asks. Penny nods, smiling back.

“That dress is amazing, Marinette. Truly one of your best designs.” She says. Marinette blushes at the compliment before smiling at the camera. She thanks Penny and takes her phone back, sending the picture to her Maman and Papa as well as her dad and Selina. She was extremely proud of the dress and wanted them to see her in it before she added her ‘disguise’ to protect her identity.

“Hey, Aunt Penny?” Marinette says, looking up at the woman. Penny hums, putting on lipstick. “What is the event for? All Jagged said was that it’s a Gala.” She says, Penny huffs.

“Of course that man didn’t give you any other information. Honestly, sometimes- you agreed without knowing what the event was?” She says, eyebrows raised. Marinette shrugs.

“Uncle Jagged said that it’d be fun. I trust him.” She says. Penny sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Remind me to read any contracts before you sign them, okay sweetie?” She says. Marinette nods and Penny smiles. “Good. Anyway, it’s a Wayne Gala. The family hosts several every year to help raise money for the Wayne foundation.” Penny says and Marinette freezes. Wayne Gala? As in, her father? Her family? Were they really having a Gala tonight without telling her? Or inviting her? Were they….were they embarrassed by her?

“Like, Bruce Wayne?” Marinette manages to ask, trying hard to ignore the way her heart breaks when Penny nods. That was why Selina couldn’t help her. She had to get ready for the Gala. And if she had to guess, the rest of her family was also going. What would they have done with her if she hadn’t had plans? Would they have told her then? Or would they have acted like nothing was happening. Where even was the Gala? Oh my god. It was at the Manor, wasn’t it. The thought strikes her and she winces, giving Penny a small, tense smile.

“Are you okay?” She asks, obviously concerned. Marinette nods sharply.

“Yes, one last question. Where is it?” She asks. Penny frowns, obviously not believing that Marinette was okay, but luckily not pushing it.

“Wayne Manor. The Galas are the only time the manor is opened to other celebrities. The family is usually very private.” Penny says. Marinette huffs out a puff of air, working hard to ignore the hurt in her chest. The feeling that she wasn’t enough. That they didn’t need her. Suddenly, she wasn’t excited anymore. She really wished she would have asked Jagged for more details last week, because now she was stuck going. And it was going to suck.

---

Feeling confident in her design and disguise, Marinette walks through the wall of journalists with Penny and Jagged at her sides. She was working hard to push down the intrusive thoughts that were threatening to take over. Instead, she tried to focus on the questions being called out by the journalists.

“Jagged! Jagged Stone, is this really MDC?” One of them asks. Jagged immediately stopping and shooting the reporter a wide smile.

“Of course it is! She designed all three of these outfits.” He says, gesturing between the trio. “Isn’t she rocking!”

“MDC, why did you pick the Wayne gala to make your first public appearance?” Another journalist asks. Marinette turns to Penny, trusting her to answer the question. They’d agreed before leaving the car that it was best if Marinette didn’t speak directly to any journalists. It would make it easier for them to place her age and where she’s from, given her accent.

“She was in the area and Mr. Stone insisted his favorite designer needed a chance to flaunt her skills in America.” Penny says, flashing the journalist a wide smile before gently pushing Marinette along down the line of journalists. Marinette nods to the man who’d asked the question before following Jagged and Penny closely, her stomach churning as they walk up the front steps of the manor. Of the place she’d been living since summer started. Where apparently they didn’t care to tell her about one of the biggest family events of the year. No big deal. She thought they were accepting her, that they were all getting closer. But maybe not. Her dad not telling her didn’t hurt nearly as much as her brothers not telling her. That felt like a knife in her chest. Trying hard to move gracefully instead of tensely, she follows Jagged into the manor and into the ballroom. Her jaw clenches as she spots her family across the room.

“Mr. Stone, I’m Clark Kent. Nice to meet you.” A man with a notebook and camera says, walking over and extending a hand. Marinette narrows her eyes. She thought the journalists were supposed to stay outside. And this man looked oddly familiar….

“Rocking meeting you man! You a journalist?” He asks, his calculating look hidden by a wide grin. Mr. Kent chuckles.

“Yes, sorry for being so forward. Mr. Wayne and I are friends, so he lets my wife and I have an exclusive pass to come inside the Galas.” He says, glancing at Marinette over his glasses. She watches as his eyes widen slightly before he schools his features back into a neutral expression.

“That’s pretty rock n roll of him!” Jagged says, clapping Mr. Kent on the shoulder.

“It is. Pardon me, but are you MDC?” He asks, turning to look at Marinette once again. She glances at Penny, shaking her head to let her know that she’ll speak for herself for this one. As upset as she was with her dad, he obviously trusted this man. So she would as well.

“I am. Pleasure to meet you, Monsieur Kent.” She says, extending her hand. He smiles, shaking her hand.

“And you, ma’am. I must say, I was not expecting to see you here. I was under the impression that in person events weren’t your forte.” He says, clearly fishing for something. She knew how journalists worked, she’d seen Alya at work enough times to understand that the man in front of her was looking for a story. One she wouldn’t be giving, no matter how much her father trusted the man.

“I like to occasionally surprise people.” She says, waving her hand in a noncommittal way. “Keep them on their toes.”

“I can respect that. Well, I’ll let you all get back to your evening. Nice to meet you all.” He says. She nods back at him, not missing the way he immediately darts off to her dad. She watches as the two start talking, a surprised look on her dad’s face before he turns and sees her. She knows he recognizes the dress. Knows that he knows as well who is underneath the veil. She turns, deciding to ignore him. He didn’t want her here, fine. She’d make sure she stayed out of his way.

---

Clark Kent was confused. He’d known that Bruce must have another kid, adopted in some way. He didn’t just work with random vigilantes, especially not in his city. So knowing that Gotham had a new vigilante named Ladybird, he put two and two together. Didn’t take the world’s greatest detective. But what was confusing was the fact that no new faces showed up with the Waynes as they walked into the ballroom for the Gala. Making a note to ask him about it later, Clark makes his way around the room, talking to familiar faces and names, writing things down that would help the story he was being forced to write on the Gala. These events were not his favorite to cover, hardly anything ever happened. Until he heard the commotion outside, other journalists calling out to MDC. He blinks in surprise. MDC had never made a public appearance before. This was an odd one to choose. Preparing himself to confront the designer, he’s surprised as she walks in behind Jagged Stone. He’s even more surprised when he realizes she had to be a teenager. He chats with the girl and Jagged, glancing down at her over the top of his glasses, shock immediately flooding him. The girl had injuries. Hundreds of them. Bones fused back together haphazardly. Quickly excusing himself, he rushes over to Bruce.

“Do you know who MDC is? Because that girl is definitely younger than Tim. And she has hundreds of injuries, Bruce. Hundreds.” He says quietly, watching as Bruce turns and glances at the girl, his eyes widening slightly.

“Shit.” He mutters.

“What?” Clark asks, trying to figure out if he should also be concerned. Bruce smiles, but it's tense.

“That is my daughter.” He says. Clark blinks.

“That’s the new one? Why didn’t she show up with the rest of the family?” He asks.

“I knew she had plans for tonight, so I didn’t tell her about the Gala. I was going to warn her about it, if she didn’t have plans. So she knew to stay in her room.” Bruce explains. Clark frowns.

“You were going to keep her locked up?” He asks incredulously. Not even the least social Wayne was kept locked away for the Galas.

“Of course not. It’s just- she hasn’t said she wants to be announced yet. She hasn’t even said anything about being MDC because she hates the spotlight. I couldn’t just throw her to the sharks. I’m just trying to do what’s best for her.” Bruce says, standing up straighter. Clark sighs.

“Did you actually talk to her about it? Or did you just assume?” He asks, Bruce huffs.

“I think I know my daughter a little more than you do, Kent.” He says.

“Really? Because from here it sounds like she’s about two breaths away from a panic attack. And Penny Rolling keeps reassuring her that they don’t have to stay long. Oh- and now she’s apologizing for not telling her it was a Wayne Gala until today, but she’s also clearly confused as to why it’s upsetting her. And now-”

“Okay, I get it.” Bruce snaps, cutting him off. Clark raises an eyebrow.

“I’m not sure what happened, but you should fix this.” He says with a pointed look before walking away. God knows the Bats all need a push in the right direction every now and again.

---

Jason frowns as he looks around the room for Marinette. He knew that she hadn’t come with the family, B hadn’t explained that one. But he had heard that MDC was there. And he wanted to talk to her, make sure she was doing okay. These things were annoying as hell and he knew he wouldn’t get through it if he didn’t have his brothers (even if they were little shits). He finally spots her near a wall, clearly trying to disappear. He grins widely, walking over and grinning at her.

“Well, MDC, fancy seeing you here.” He teases with a wink. He watches her for some kind of reaction, frowning when he doesn’t get one. “Pix?” He says, softer this time as he looks at his baby sister.

“Oh, that’s right, I wasn’t supposed to be here, was I? Well, sorry to disappoint.” She snaps bitterly. Jason flinches back, surprised at her tone.

“What’re you talking about?” He asks, eyebrows furrowed. Why did she sound so hurt? Why did she think they didn’t want her there?

“Clearly I’m not as much of the family as I thought I was.” She hisses under her breath. He starts to deny that, but she cuts him off with a humorless laugh. “Bruce didn’t even tell me that there was a Gala. None of you did either. A Wayne family Gala and I wasn’t told. I should’ve known better.” She says, turning to walk away. He grabs her wrist gently, stopping her.

“I promise you, we want you here. Dick, Damian, Tim, me- we all want you here. I can’t speak for B, I’ll definitely be having words with the son of a bitch later, but we want you here.” He says, frowning as he listens to her sniffle under her veil. “Pixie, we thought you knew. He told us you weren’t ready to come to this. I swear to you, we would have told you if we knew. I swear.” He adds. His heart breaks as he hears a hiccupped sob break free from her. He wants nothing more than to wrap his baby sister in a hug, but he knows he can’t. Media’d have a field day.

“Really?” She asks in a small voice. Jason nods.

“Hell yeah Pix. Tell ya what, I’m gonna go get the others and then we’re all gonna sneak out. Take one of the old man’s cars and get some garbage fast food. Who needs this lameass party anyway.” He says, hoping she’ll agree. He’ll let himself be mad at Bruce later. And boy was he gonna be mad. The old man had really fucked up this time. It was one thing to ask Mari to not go to the Gala, or to think she wasn’t ready for it. It was a completely other thing to not even give her the chance to decide, or tell her at all. Cause now she was hurt and thinking everyone hated her. Well, he wasn’t gonna let that happen. Not on his watch.

“Lemme just go tell Jagged and Penny real quick.” She agrees, scurrying off. The second she walks away Jason lets his smile drop into a scowl. That son of a bitch. Storming over to his brothers, he tugs them over to the wall. Better not to let B get word of where they’re going.

“What is the meaning of this?” Damian asks with a scowl.

“Pixie’s gonna tell her Aunt and Uncle that she’s leaving and then we’re stealing one of B’s cars to go to McDonalds.” He says simply. Tim frowns.

“And we’re doing this because?” He prompts.

“Because B apparently didn’t tell the kid about the Gala. And she assumed we knew, and that we all hate her.” Jason explains with a frown.

“Father said she didn’t want to attend.” Damian says, and Jason huffs.

“Yeah, well apparently he lied. She had no clue that the event she was going to as MDC was a Wayne Gala.” He says.

“I’ll go get the car and pull it up front.” Dick says, a determined look on his face. Sometimes his ‘we’re a family and we stick together’ shit annoyed the hell outta Jason, but he was thankful for it today.

“I’m gonna go grab Selina’s coat for her to put on. I saw her dress, and if any MDC fan sees her leaving with us it’s gonna start a media circus.” Tim says, walking away to the coat room. Jason sighs, watching Marinette from across the room. A cleared throat beside him tugs his attention back to his youngest brother.

“What?” He asks, pushing his frustration down. He’d go shoot something later, but right now he was determined to not take his frustration at Bruce out on his siblings.

“Why would Father intentionally keep her from the Gala? She is far more adept at social interaction than I am.” Damian says with a frown. Jason sighs, shrugging.

“No clue. But I’m not about to let her push herself away from the rest of us just because B fucked up.” He says, watching as she walks over to the wall, almost disappearing in the shadows. He nods towards her, making sure Damian follows. The second Tim has Selina’s coat, their small group is off, sneaking out one of the side doors and walking past the journalists, sprinting to Dick and the waiting car. They all jump in and she tears the veil off her face, making Jason wince slightly at her red, puffy eyes. Dick slams on the gas, eliciting a curse from Jason and a squeal of surprise from Marinette.

“So! We broke out of that stuffy party. Where are we headed?” Dick asks, glancing in the rearview mirror to make eye contact with Jason. Jason grins.

“We go get a shit ton of junk food from McDonalds and eat it in the car. Give it the old, fast food smell that B loves oh so much.” He says. Marinette snorts, and Jason grins at her. He’d give B hell later, but for now, he was going to enjoy spending time with his siblings.

---

Bruce frowns as he glances around the Gala, not seeing his daughter. Or any of his other children. He made a mental note to talk to them later. Perhaps keeping the Gala from Marinette wasn’t his best decision.

Next

Tag list: @maribat-bdbwm @vixen-uchiha @stainedglassm @liquid-luck-00 @jayjayspixiepop @jjmjjktth @mizzy-pop @trippingovermyfeet @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @waiting247 @laurcad123 @toodaloo-kangaroo @ritacrow-blog @deathssilentapproach-blog @kittenmywaythrulife @nerd-nowandforever @tazanna-blythe @jaybird-and-co @jumpingjoy82

[sweetsbfreex]

lethologica

when you can’t think of the word for something...like this fic </3

Summary: Harry’s family navigating his impending fame, and the activity of reader and harry making their first belly cast

Warnings: fluff, slight angst?

Pairing: Husband, Dad!Harry x reader 

“Hey! We’re back!” you yelled out, Harry following closely behind you as he shut the door,  carefully slipping off your sneakers. It was pretty late at least for the two of you now. The sun was away, you and H coming back from your well deserved date night. 

At the familiar sound of the slamming door came the different steps of your kids. Shuffling down the steps from your view you could see the face of your oldest ahead of the covey, bolting towards the two of you. The various sounds of ‘mom’,’mummy’, and ‘dad’ spoken out. 

“You guys took forever” Sydnie; seventeen, was the first to say, exasperated as she latched onto you. But was quickly shuffled away by the twins. “Bloo” the seven year old was born a Penelope, but after watching her favorite show Winx Club when she was three. Demanded she be called after her favorite character Bloom, but couldn’t pronounce the name all the way through. If you had called her by official name she wouldn’t respond, going on about her day as if no one was there. And it had stuck since then, forever the stubborn one only to grow into a sweet, shy little girl.

 And Alec, fraternal twins who had just turned seven.

“Careful babies the baby, remember” Harry lightly reminded. With that reminder he had loosened his secure hold.

“Well sorry” you teased, kissing all their forehead quickly “But we bought you guys some food too” you reported, holding up the labeled bag.

They responded with excited statements, as Sydnie took the bag from your hold, running to the kitchen with her siblings. 

“My hugs!” Harry yelled out, hands cupping his mouth then putting his brawny arms out like a plane awaiting their bodies to clash into his. “ought to take away your allowance for that one” Harry teases, fingers stretching out to tickle anywhere they could. 

As a result he got a lively mix of groans, laughs, and pleas.

“Joking” Harry says abruptly, kissing each of their cheeks before conducting all of you to the kitchen, assisting the twins into their own seatings at the kitchen. The light above all of you illuminating the room.

Embarrassingly enough it had been when you were pulling the plastic containers from the brown bag that you realized you were missing a kid. 

“Where’s your brother?” you asked, opening Bloo’s Spaghetti and spreading it on the white plate.

“Talking to his girlfriend” Sydnie air quoted, rolling her father-like eyes.

“Why do you say it like that?” Harry asked, wonderingly his back turned, reaching for the Placemats, setting them in front of each child. Placing one in front of an empty stool for Chase. 

“Daddy, he’s delusional! I’ve told him a million times. She found out his last name, connected the dots, and now she’s interested. I would know it’s happened to me hundreds of times since middle school” she said indignantly.

Finishing the last plate up, from the side of your eyes you could see and sense his deflation at the statement. Always overthinking about their last names and what it would entail as they grow up with Harry Styles as their father. His top five worry ever since the first time you were pregnant. His breaking point, however, had been when Sydnie came home, furious. From a day from school finding out that some girl in her class had tried getting closer to her with ill intentions. 

He could also sense the worry that washed over you, catching your eye to let you know he was fine. 

“He’s old enough to know better. He’ll be fine Syd,” you let her know, reaching your hand to fix the hoodie that overshadowed her precious face.

“I wasn’t, it sucks and he’s not taking me seriously”

“Cause you’re full of it” shifting your eyes to the doorway, the sixteen-year-old walked in towards you. His arm over your shoulders before placing a kiss to your cheek. Then making his way to his dad, who had pulled him in setting a kiss to his temple. 

“You say that but just you wait!” she walked over to him quickly, flicking his the back of his head, shifting her way over to the fridge before he could retaliate. Pulling out a drink and some cups for everyone else, almost bustling into you, as you made your way to the microwave.

“Don’t wish that on your brother” Harry persisted.

“I’m not, but he better not come crying to me”

"Whatever” he paid her no mind, shifting the conversation to his parents. “How was your date?” he asked, setting himself at the island. 

“‘Was fine we went to the arcade, I beat mum’s butt––”

“He’s lying, I beat him at air hockey”

“Just air hockey mum?” Bloo asked, a slight lisp from her missing front teeth. Her attention strayed away while Sydnie placed her cup in front of her, filling it with juice.

“Sadly” you mimicked a pout, Harry smiling with a smug grin. 

“Then went to dinner. Guess what” he exclaimed, directing his energy towards Alec”

“Mummy looked so pretty tonight, some chum couldn’t stop eyeing her. So I had to give him a knuckle” he told the story, raising his fist and mirthfully brought it to Alec’s stomach. Eliciting giggles from his which bounced off to Bloo. The rest of you with gratified smiles at the meaningful interaction. 

“Why are you such a fibber tonight” you urged Harry, smacking his shoulder. 

“I’m not lying” he said, walking to you till he was hovering over your back, trying to annoy you with his insistent cheek kisses.

“Go away” you whined, faking your displeasure, shrugging your shoulders. The kids could note your slight smile except for him.

“Go away” he mocked.

“We all know you wouldn’t hurt a fly” Chase pointed out correctly. Thanking you as you set his plate of food in front of him. 

Harry stood across the herd,resting back against the quartz countertop, arms crossed. Until you cuddled yourself into his side. His arm reaching down so his thumb could rub against the side of your belly. Your arms encircled around his waist, head on his chest.

“Not true” he replied. 

“It’s okay, it’s why I married you” you sweetly said with a smile adoring your face. He could only look down at you with a close lipped smile reflecting yours, his dimple digging deep. Leaning down to kiss you, filling you up with his love for you. 

Both of you had pulled away abruptly from the range of disgusted protests and a slam of an utensil. All except for sweet, shy Bloo. Who had watched with a smile on her face idolizing the love of her parents, swearing it was like the Disney movies. Like her favorite Princess and the Frog.

“We’re trying to eat!” Chase had said dramatically, pasta in his mouth. Sydnie covers her eyes with both hands, while Alec stuck out his tongue finger to his mouth. 

“None of you would be here, if it wasn’t for this” you emphasized, your finger waving between you and H. 

“No duh, you both won’t stop having children” Sydnie overstated, shuddering stagy. 

- 

It was late now, all of you stayed downstairs, more overdue than intended. The twins went down an hour early before the other two. Chase and Sydnie finished their meals for the night and instead of leaving, stayed up talking to their parents.

In your sleep shorts and a light weight tank top, your hands were in Harry’s who was massaging them softly. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” you asked feebly, peeking up at the overly focused man. 

“We’ve had this conversation a handful of times, don’t see why we need to have it again” he replied, glancing at you quickly.

“I know, but it might make you feel a little better” you tried again not wanting to push him too far. 

“I–It’s just” he had to stop for a minute, his throat closing up too much to even speak clearly. You propped yourself up against the headboard, your lower back aching a little bit, adjusting Harry so his red tainted face was laid on your shoulder. 

You could only coo at him, kissing his forehead, while your hand ran laxly on the side of his face. Your fingers brushing against the slight scruff against his cheek. Before moving your arm so your hand could massage his scalp at the back of his neck. Letting your fingers run through his lengthy hair at the same time. Your other arm reaches over to pluck a piece of tissue from the box, wiping under his nose softly. 

“Just want them to have a normal life like you and me, it isn’t fair to them that they’ve got to deal with shit like this constantly because of me”

“Baby don’t say that, regardless of it all they’d still have to go through life meeting awful people”

“It isn’t the same y/n, with people like them they know the reason is because of their stupid last name.”

“H” you start sternly, rocking the both of you slowly “Don’t say stuff like that, you think if they had to choose you wouldn’t be their dad? They cherish you so much. I know it sucks I do, but you’re an amazing dad, there’s no one better for them. They would never hold something like that against you, they love you too much to”

“You’re a brilliant mum too. I’m sorry”

“You don’t need to apologize baby” You stopped rocking the two of you slowly, smiling down at him only to see: glossy somber eyes, a subtle simper, and a hiccuping chest.  

-

“Stomachs getting bigger” he stated, his hand rubbing against your stomach absentmindedly.

“Thank you baby, just what every girl wants to hear” 

“No! Not like that beautiful. Just meant now people can see your pregnant again”

“I’m teasing H, I promise the hormones haven’t kicked in yet.”

“Finally get to sleep with ur boobs in front of me every night” He said smugly, naturally looking at you for his favourable reaction.

“You’re such a child” you return, pinching his arm lightly “You wouldn’t want to put it in the nursery?” you ask.

“Wherever you want angel”

That radiant morning led you to now, an impromptu family trip to Target, the kids getting whatever their hearts desired–– to an extent–– while you and Harry stood here astonished by the arrays of different casting kits. 

You raise your conjoined hands to point your finger at a baby blue box.

“That one? Genie told me that’s the one she bought” you queried.

He inspected it, twisting the box practically reading every word, before turning to look at the ingredients. 

“H you probably don’t know what half of those things are”

He shrugged his shoulder in response, looking at the box one last time. “Sure it was this one?” 

“Positive”

You were both meant to go find the kids until they had bustled around the corner, Chase pushing the loaded cart while everyone walked ahead. At the view of his parents. Alec had run ahead towards the two of you a motor car in his hand. 

“Mummy! Daddy! May I get this please?” he asked, raising the toy above his head. 

“Can I get this too please?” Bloo asked quietly, a lego set sat up in her palms.

“You guys were meant to keep them away from the toys” Harry told the older two. Knowing this would just add to their continual influx of toys. “Yes you guys can, go ahead and put it in the cart”

Alec had done his little dance, skipping his way back to the cart while Bloo walked herself carefully. Placing her set down as low as she could without causing any noise or crushing anything else. 

“You both get everything you need?” you asked, following after the twins along with Harry, placing the kit into the cart. 

You looked down at everything noticing some groceries, a few skincare items, a book, something for their rooms, and other things you couldn’t find that laid underneath everything else.  

“Yep, ready to leave when you are” Sydnie had responded.

“Okay let’s head out, Styles” Harry exclaimed, as low as he could, to not disrupt anyone else, Clapping his ringed hands together once.

“Dude, you’re such a dad” Chase quipped.

“Almost like I’ve been raising kids for seventeen years huh?” He jested back, eyes opening wide in faux disbelief, traveling to bother Chase some more. 

Giggling at the two, you looked down when you felt a body pressing into your leg. Familiar arms around your thigh. A distraught Bloo, looking up at you, her chin resting against your thigh.

“What is it, baby?” you asked, softly, tuning out the rest of your family.

“There’s a lady over there. She keeps looking at us” she informed you, pointing her dainty finger discreetly as she could to the woman at the end of the aisle. 

Being only seven the twins had a mutual understanding on why their dad had to leave at times, but that decreased once more when you had fallen pregnant again. They understood all the rules. 

a) if anyone was ever following, acting suspiciously always let mum or dad know–– if dad was there, definitely dad. b) never talk back to the idiots with the bulky cameras. c) Be careful who you talk to and what you say, some people aren’t always what they may seem. 

“H” you called him over.

He walked over to the two of you, eyebrows elevated in question. His hand instinctively brushing over bloo’s hair.

“Uhm maybe we should send the kids to checkout” you tilted your head backward at the not so prudent woman with the shocked face. Her phone pointing towards the two of you. 

You undoubtedly saw the happiness of his face shift to one of vexation and frustration as he glanced quickly, shrewdly at the woman. He extended his hand out to rub your elbow soothingly, nodding wearily. 

He turned to the kids, masking his face as best as he could. “You guys go ahead and save a spot for us, me and your mum are gonna grab one last thing”

They didn’t care much, just wanting to get home as quickly as they could, Sydnie grabbing both of the twins’ hands. 

-

Harry had kindly walked up to the woman, a displayed smile on his face, asking her to delete whatever she had managed to collect. You watched the encounter from the side, rubbing your belly softly, filled with mild angst. 

She had apologized profusely (the embarrassment seeping in her voice), the kindness in Harry letting her know it was fine as long as he could watch her delete everything. 

From her camera roll, Harry could see a video still of before the kids came, when you and him were looking for a casting kit. And some other videos of the family loitering in the target section. 

He bid her a tight-lipped goodbye, after he kindly asked her again, though it was starting to run low, to go to her recently deleted–– he wasn’t the most tech savvy but he also wasn’t an idiot. Once that was ultimately done, he locked your hand into his. 

“Are you okay?” you asked, securing your other arm up to wind around his.

“Just tired of the bullshit...” he sighed. He was just happy that he was able to protect his family this time. 

You halt him swiftly; he looks back at you in confusion, until you lug him down for as much of a hug as you could. Feeling his shoulders sag in relaxation and his arms winding around your waist. 

-

You stood next to Harry, in front of one of the sinks, reading the instructions. 

“So we start with the lubricant first, use these...” holding up a roll of the plaster tape “dip them into warm water, and just putting them on” you informed Harry of your summary.

He nodded, his lip between his fingers as his eyes roamed over the paper once again. “I’ll go get you a chair, pee before we start” He yelled over his shoulder.

He walked back in, a wooden chair between his hands. Setting it to the floor gently, smiling at you to take a seat. Walking back to the sink,resting his hip against the packet of lubricant in his hand. 

You smiled back at him as you took your seat. Deeming it be fit to wear running shorts and a tank top. Harry only in a pair of his joggers. Surprisingly after four kids, this was your first time trying a belly cast and you were a bit nervous wanting it to look just as perfect as it could–– adding your husband being a precisionist into the mix there was no guessing how this would turn out. 

“Take off your top” Harry said smugly, bringing the white packet to his teeth– side eying you–– while he ripped it off. Turning to start the camera propped up on the counter. You insisted this had to be recorded as a little keepsake for the two of you. 

You could only roll your eyes, trying hard not to feed into his ego. But the heat rising from your neck reported him otherwise. Tucking your arms back in the arm holes and raising the shirt off your body. Your body is bare except for the shorts adorning your legs. 

Ogling at you like a caveman playfully at the sight of your boobs out and about, eliciting quick giggles from you. He walked up to you clasping your face between his palms, pressing your aglow cheeks together lightly–– the white, cold packet sitting against your left cheek lightly. Giving you three earnest kisses to your lips and leaning down in front of you, giving a peck to your belly button. 

He squeezed some of the lubricant onto his fingers, deciding to start under your belly. You hissed at the sudden coldness hitting your skin. 

“Okay?” he asked, eyes a bit wide and mouth slightly open.

“A little cold, but you can continue” you let him know. 

He got at it quickly, once he finished that area he stood up a bit getting the sides of your stomach coated. Once he had finished, you stood up looking in the mirror at the shine of your stomach. 

“Now for the fun part” clapping your palms together sitting back down, wistfully watching Harry wash his hands of the substance. He got the scissors cutting the strips of various sizes. Walking to you at times to make sure it fits properly. 

‘Wouldn’t it be easier if I was next to you’ you asked.

Only to be replied with ‘No reason to have you on your feet, if I can walk to you.’ He unquestionably is just a bag of sunshine and everything good in the world.

Filling the sink with warmish water and placing on gloves. Snapping it on dramatically as if he was a doctor in a drama series.  

“Dork”  

He walked over with the first strip in his hand, water dripping behind him as he stepped closer to you. You pulled out your phone quickly wanting to capture a cute picture of this. Right as he placed the first strip you snapped the image. The only thing being seen was your protruded belly and below, his hands placing the plaster tape to your stomach, and a small tuft of his hair from the top of the picture. 

He pulled away proudly, smiling down at his work, with his hands on his hips. “Look at that, looks perfect huh?”

“You’re doing good so far H” you confirmed.

-

It was only fifteen minutes later, half of your stomach–– and that wasn’t saying much.

“Baby it’s fine we’ll just sand it down” you tried to convince H for the last time, but he was stubborn as ever.

His mouth open in excessive concentration, puzzled brows pulled together as he removed the plaster for the fifth time. And from your point of view, you swore, he placed it back on the exact same spot.

“Just wait” he sighed, it wasn’t where he wanted it to be.

“Harry, we’re gonna be forever” you sighed, swaying your feet softly until one of them accidentally knocked into Harry’s leg. He looked down at you, eyes telling you to quit it. 

“See there, you big baby” he grumbled.

“You’ve set it back into the same spot!” you exclaimed.

“No I haven’t, you’re just impatient...sounded a little brit there” he hummed, turning his back to you as he grabbed another slip. 

“Shut up!” 

-

Then there was, naturally, the sudden interruption.

Bloo had stumbled into the bathroom, expressing out about something one of her brothers did when she stopped taking into account, trying to figure out what was wrong with her mum. 

She gasped, eyes wide at the greying stuff. “What’s wrong with mummy?” she asked, looking between the two of you. 

“Turning mummy into a mummy!” He screeched, holding up a plaster strip. 

She brought her hands up to her mouth eyes growing only wider, her lip already starting to tremble. 

“You and your stupid dad jokes” you pulled Bloo closer to you, turning her back to Harry flipping him off behind her head. 

“We’re just doing a cast, don’t worry baby. Remember that episode of Jessie when Ravi got that mask stuck on Luke’s face and ripped his eyebrows off” you explained, She laughed at the connection of the episode. 

“Kind of like that, but without the eyebrows and we’re just using my belly” bringing your thumb to brush her brows up and the corner of her mouth clean. God what were they doing down there.

“Ohh okay that makes more sense.” you smiled back at her. 

-

And Harry who had a bit too much fun when it came to the upper portion of the cast. Acting like Alec does when Paw patrol was on or when Sydnie when her dad allowed her his card to shop. Finding any reason to smooth down the cast with his wet hands. Or taking his time to cover your nipple, using his thumb to level it out. A haughty expression on his face growing the higher he got from your belly button. 

“You’re acting as if we don’t have sex or take showers together” you tell him, popping another goldfish into your mouth (But not the good ones, the disgusting wheat ones Harry urged you and everyone else in the house to eat instead.)

“As if you don’t act like this when I take off my shirt”

He got you there, looking up at you to see you were not going to give him the eye contact he wanted. Your lips closed tight.

He delicately planted the last strip over the top of one of your breasts. 

“Wait, it doesn’t look right” 

“Harry!”

“Just joking y/n, now we wait five minutes and we can pop this off, sand it, and decorate it however you want” he told you, smiling at the finished product, leaning down to kiss your forehead then your lips.

“Wanna do it like this” you twisted your phone around to show him the image on Pinterest. A light blue belly cast, but you wanted it a pretty purple color, that was held against a frame, with butterflies of surveying sizes going across/diagonally the cast.

“However you want lovie” he told you again, pulling your head to his stomach, leaning down to kiss your head. Your arms winding across his waist.

“Thank you” you hummed in satisfaction. 

– – – – – 

if you enjoyed pls don’t forget to reblog or give feedback if ur up to it <3

thank you to the anon who requested this!

[supercorpkid]

Rescue Mission – Suicide Mission.

Part 1 - Destroy the family.

Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader, Alex Danvers x Niece!Reader, Brainy x Reader.

Word count: 2160.

Warning: Angst. Injuries. Kidnappings.

It’s by the tone that you know something is wrong. When the principal knocks on your classroom door, and you hear your name being called out, you know it. Just by her tone.

“Something is wrong.” You say to Jamie, before getting up. “You know what to do.”

“Good luck.” It’s what she answers, and you’re not sure why, but you know you will need it.

She knows what to do. Situations like this have happened before, where you leave your classroom and don’t come back for the rest of the day, or even for the rest of the week. You usually leave everything behind, and what Jamie needs to do it’s put them away in your locker in between classes, and hope you’ll come back in one piece.

Maya looks at you, with furrowed brows, like asking what’s going on, and you nod at her while biting your lower lip. Jamie will also fill her in with whatever lie she can think of that day.

You’re out of the classroom and looking around to see any of your moms there, but it is aunt Alex who shows up. This fact alone is more than proof that all hell is breaking loose somewhere outside the safety of your school.

“Thank you, Mrs. Goodwin. I’ll take her from here.” Alex says, taking her hand out of her jacket’s pocket and putting it on your shoulder. You walk a little down the hallway knowing the matter is important and secret. What other reason would bring Alex to your school to see you and not her own daughter?

“Well?” You ask because you can’t wait much longer. The principal is far enough so she can’t hear you, and there’s no one outside the classrooms.

“I shouldn’t have this conversation here nor-” Alex says, opening the front door and you don’t see her motorcycle anywhere. “Let’s just fly to the DEO. It's an urgent matter.”

She doesn’t have to say twice. You’re curious about what could be so urgent, and to figure out why your heart is beating almost out of your chest when she hasn’t even said anything yet, but if it's an urgent matter, you know she won’t discuss them in public. You pick her up and fly to the DEO in a blur, getting there faster than anyone can say ‘what the fuck is that in the sky?’.

“There was an emergency elsewhere.” Alex starts, marching down the DEO with you right behind her. Brainy silently joins her on the other side. “We sent Supergirl to look at this situation hours ago.” She makes sure to emphasize the word hours so you know it’s serious. “It could’ve been a diversion though, because a while later this happened.”

You look at the tablet that was shoved in front of your face by Brainy. ‘This’ is an image of L-Corp being invaded by what looks like a whole army of men.

“What did they take?” You ask, pushing the tablet out of your face, and back to Brainy.

“Only one thing.” It’s Brainy who answers, and Alex stops walking, turning to you with a serious expression.

“Lena.”

Your heart stops for a second, your stomach drops, and your breath gets stuck in your lungs. You expected her to say anything, anything in the universe, except that. You fight the tears forming on your eyes. You can’t cry, you don’t have time for that. You must save her. You don’t have time to feel sorry for yourself, or for this sick feeling coming from your stomach up your throat. You stop it right there. You don’t even have time to throw up.

“Supergirl?” You ask as soon as you manage to. Alex’s hands go to your shoulders, and she gives both a light squeeze.

“No response for longer than what is expected.” You feel your stomach dropping again. No response is not good, and you know that. It’s no trouble speaking to the comm, so if she is not responding, it is because she can’t do so.

Your mind travels fast to all the worst scenarios you can imagine. Kara not responding being Rao knows where, and Lena being kidnapped is the definition of all the things that could go wrong in your life. You can’t fight the urge of throwing up anymore. You run to a trash can, sticking your head inside, and you feel your throat burning when the food comes back. You clean your mouth with the back of your hand and raise your head again.

You’re suddenly filled with a lot of energy and a sense of responsibility. It’s all in your hands, you’re the one who needs to save them. That’s the reason why you’re here. You turn around looking at both agents with a serious expression.

“What do we do? Where do I go? How-How can we get them both?” You ask your aunt, waiting for a clear direction. She’s been doing this for years; she’ll know what to do.

“Lena is human, she is in more dangerous conditions.” Alex says and you agree with your head.

“Supergirl, on the other hand, might be able to help if she is here.” Brainy adds and you agree again. Only to realize nothing has been decided.

“I-I don’t know what that means.”

“It means, we’re with you.” Alex comes forward, giving your shoulder another reassuring squeeze. “If you go for Kara, we’ll go for Lena and vice-versa. It’s your call.”

Oh great, yes. Put this enormous responsibility on a kid’s shoulders. How’s that even fair?

“Get Supergirl’s last location. Find out who the fuck got Lena, and where she might be.” You ask Brainy who quickly shows you Kara’s last location on the screen. “I’ll go get Supergirl.”

It was not a decision, if you were being honest. It was a cry for help. If Kara can help, then you’re going to need it. You got one of your moms location, it’s a no brainer. Kara can help, Lena needs help. Two Kryptonians are better than one, should you think so.

You fly to wherever Kara was pinpointed last. You see destruction everywhere. Old -and luckily- abandoned buildings lay wrecked on the ground. Dust and havoc are seen throughout the place, and there’s no one in sight. No one, except. Except one hand coming off from a wreckage pile.

You fly down, easily removing blocks of concrete, steel frames and other indistinguishable wreckage, to find Kara trapped under them. Face all bloody, completely bruised. You feel light-headed at the sight of your wounded and bloody mommy. You drop on your knees next to her, tears blurring your eyes.

“Momma! Hey, hey, can you hear me?” You hold her in your arms, cleaning her face from the blood. She can’t hear you, you know that for sure. She is blacked out, her body feels limp in your arms, like a rag doll. “Momma, please. Please. Don’t do this to me.” There’s a burning feeling on your chest, like you might just explode and take this whole place down with you. But no matter how much you call, and yell, and beg, Kara doesn’t answer.

Kara’s hands are also bloody and bruised, like she’s been fighting for dear life, and you look around trying to find out what could’ve caused such damage to her. Her breath is weak, and her heart is beating slowly. You hold her tight, seeing your tears falling on her face.

“I’ve got Supergirl.” You press your comm, calling Alex. “She won’t be able to help. I’m bringing her over; get the infirmary ready.” You try to even your voice. “She’s beaten down heavily.”

“We’ll be ready for both of you.” Alex’s voice comes in your ear, and you pick up Kara’s limp body in bridal style.

“I’ve got you, mommy.” You kiss her forehead, tasting blood and dirt on the process. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except Kara, right now. “You’re safe. I’m here.”

Your heart is beating fast all the way back to the DEO. It’s more than painful, it’s a word you’ve never even heard before, a totally new kind of hurt. Having your momma so weak and injured in your arms. It doesn’t matter that you can still see her slowly breathing and hear her weak heartbeat, it doesn’t matter that you know that she is alive, because seeing her like this has made a part of you die.

You land inside the DEO, and Alex is indeed ready for both of you. You lay Kara on a stretcher, and some agents roll her out of your sight and off to the infirmary she goes. You know the process, yellow sunlight, blah-blah-blah. Your heart still aches, regardless.

“Lena?” You ask your aunt that is still next to you, hands on her waist with a serious expression.

“Come see something.” Alex asks, making her way to the big screen in front of you. And Brainy, coming out of nowhere, appears with a tablet next to you.

“It’s an encrypted message.” He says, and the message appears on the big screen soon after.

We will destroy the entire family.

“I’m working on finding the source of the message, but for now that’s all we have.” Brainy says and you look at aunt Alex, biting the inside of your mouth. The entire family is what the message says. You know what she’s thinking. You’re thinking about it too.

“They wouldn’t.” You say, shaking your head. But your heart is beating fast, like it’s telling you that they -whoever they may be- would.

“I have to be sure.” Alex says, and you sigh, aware of that too.

“I’ll go get Jamie; you get Kelly.” Alex is out of the room before you’re half finished. And you’re almost flying away when you look back at Brainy. “Find Lena.”

“Working on it.” He says, running to his workstation and you fly away to the school.

You don’t have time to clean yourself and look presentable. You are aware there’s blood and dirt on your super suit. You don’t care. You fly inside of your school, causing a big commotion with the students. Most of them get out of their classrooms and go into the hallway, when you land and start walking to where you think Jamie might be.

“It’s Superkid!” They all say, while taking pictures of you, and all the flashes distract you from using your x-ray vision well.

The teachers also look impressed, coming out of their classrooms to see you. You feel like a circus freak, with all these people shouting and cheering you, like you’re supposed to be doing tricks for them. It’s ironic to think that if you had your glasses on, you would be invisible to them.

You look around, feeling lost. The cameras are blinding, the cheering is deafening, and the more you look around and don’t see the face you’re looking for, the more desperate you get. You clench your fist, trying to regain focus, and look around the crowd when your eyes land on Maya.

You manage to speak, out of gritted teeth. “Ms. Olsen-Danvers.” You look around searching for Jamie. “Where is she?”

“She left.” Maya says, and you look back at her. Eyes zooming in and you notice her shaky breath. You step in closer, trying to even your own breath.

“Where?” You spit. Maya shakes her head in denial.

“Both of the Danvers have left with Jamie’s mother.” The teacher says and you blink at the realization you’re the other Danvers, and that Jamie didn’t leave with you.

You look back at Maya one last time, blinking a sense of calmness -you don’t really feel- into her, before using your super speed out of the school. “Alex, did you pick Jamie up?”

“I thought you were going to.” You hear on your comm, and you drop your head low. You were too late. “I came to pick up Kelly.”

“And?”

“We’re on our way to the DEO. Should I go to your school?” Alex asks, and your eyes are filled with tears. No. You can’t tell her that. You can’t say the words. They’re stuck inside you, like the hardest truth you’ve ever spoken. You feel like a nightmare is filling your surroundings, and you’re totally alone. You fall on your knees, vision blurry, heart squeezing on your chest. “Superkid? Should I go pick her up? Please come in.”

Say it! Go on, tell her! Tell her you were too late. Tell her they’ve got Jamie. Tell her they have Lena, and that they’ve beaten Kara to the point of unconsciousness. Tell her they have your entire life in their hands.

“Can you hear me? Superkid, CAN YOU HEAR ME?”

“Don’t.” You manage to say woefully, minutes after the first question was asked. “Don’t come.” You breathe out. “She is not here.”

[imagine-that-100]

Stop It

Description: When bad habits come back, it leaves you with worries and feeling self-aware. But when your boyfriend spots this, he just has to prove you wrong.

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: This was requested by an Anon. Really hope this was okay, I tried my best with it. Hope everyone else enjoys and I’d love to know what you think! Thank you for reading x

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As a kid all you heard when it came to you and your little habit was, “Stop it.”

Picking and biting at your lips was something that had haunted you for as long as you could remember. Cracked and broken skin on your lips were almost a constant and it haunted you still even now.

After you’d been ill with the flu or a cold, or something your lips liked to taunt you. Even just after being out in the cold for too long without applying some lip balm.

It was a fucking pain.

And because they used to be in such a bad condition, you just assumed that once the dead skin was off you'd be fine. So picking at them and biting them seemed like it was helping.

Oh how wrong you were.

So that was when you got constant ‘Stop it’s from your parents and when you caught yourself doing it you said a silent ‘stop it’ to yourself.

And the past few days you’d fallen back into that bad habit because you’d just got over a cold. So when you were at work today, stressing out over a client, you caught yourself staring at your laptop with your elbow rested on your desk and your fingers on your lips, picking at a little piece of dry skin you’d found.

Stop it.

Then you caught yourself biting them later when you were trying to actually make the custom design for your client. Another ‘stop it’ filled your mind.

Then again on the phone to another client who was being rude.

Stop it.

And again, when you were driving back home to your boyfriend who’d just flew back in from a series of shows he’d done.

STOP IT!

All you wanted to do was be able to kiss your boyfriend, but no way would he want to go anywhere near you if your lips split. Thankfully the first day or two when Matty was back home your lips held out.

You tried your best to control your habit and with Matty distracting you from work stresses it became a little easier. But when you were at work and he obviously wasn’t around you fell back into old habits.

And after a particularly stressful day at work, you did the worst.

You accidently split your lip.

Never had you not wanted to go home to Matty more. He was affectionate with you in the best of ways and he almost always wanted a kiss and a cuddle when it was just the two of you alone together.

But you didn’t want to kiss him with your lips in the state they were. Despite trying every lip balm, lip scrub, and moisturizer, nothing had helped over the past few days they still fucking split.

You hated it, and you hated that it made you anxious for Matty to see you like that. Thankfully, he’d never seen you like this before but something in you made you think he’d want nothing to do with you.

Maybe it was your old anxiety creeping back in. Or maybe it was just the fear of rejection.

Whatever the reason, it made you want to hide yourself from the person you shouldn’t be hiding yourself from.

“Hey.” You called when you got home, knowing Matty was around somewhere.

“Hey.” Matty calls back from the lounge, “How was work?”

When you walk in and see your boyfriend with his long mop of curls, you smile saying, “Stressful.”

“Bastards being picky again?” Matty grins when his brown eyes connect with your Y/E/C ones.

You chuckle remembering you’d complained about your clients to him on multiple occasions. You loved your job but god you met some pretentious people along the way.

“Not more so than you when it comes to buying your vintage clothes.” You tease him, throwing your coat down on the settee before leaning over him and kissing the top of his head.

Matty playfully scoffs, “I’m not being picky, I just have taste.”

“Sure, that's what we'll call it.” You giggle as Matty pulls you down onto his lap so he could give you a hug.

His arms wrap around you and he buries his head into your neck. You smile, feeling him kiss your skin a few times but you just bury your nose into his soft curls that smell like his expensive almond conditioner, as you ask, “How’s your day been?”

“Boring without you here.” Matty tells you and even though he’s just being kind, it makes you smile.

As you ask, “How are the boys?” Matty’s lips slowly trace their way up your neck and to your jaw.

Your anxiety set in a bit then, knowing exactly where they were headed.

“They’re alright, I suppose.” Matty tells you, he kisses just under your ear before he says, “Wanna see you apparently.”

“Well that's no shock, they do love me more than they love you.” You joke.

Matty chuckles a little at that and kisses across your cheek as he whines, “You’re mineee.”

You giggle at that and throw your head laughing back just before his lips reach the corner of yours.

Matty chuckles too hearing your laugh and he kisses under your jaw whilst it’s exposed to him. Your laugh was so adorable, and he’d never tire of hearing it.

“Do you want a brew?” You ask the love of your life as you get up out of his lap.

Matty smiles, looking up at your gorgeous face, “I’d love a coffee please.”

You nod and head to the kitchen feeling a little relief that you’d got out of that one. You didn’t want him to be repulsed by the thought of kissing you, so you’d rather avoid kissing him instead.

But that turned out to be what gave you away.

That night you went to George’s for a Chinese with them all. Adam brought Carly with him so you ended up talking to her for most of the night to try and avoid PDA.

You just received passing kisses on the head or on the cheek that night, even when you crawled into bed later you just tucked your head under Matty’s chin and let sleep take over you quickly.

The following day you avoided them too and you thought you were being subtle about it. Sometimes you playfully dodged his kiss and kissed his cheek instead, and other times you made him kiss your cheek when he went in for one, because you’d put lip balm on.

But the day after you were still doing the same despite not being in a playful mood or having anything on your lips.

You were standing in your kitchen with Matty’s arms around your waist making the both of you an omelette for lunch. You’d told Matty to just take a seat at your kitchen table as he kept trying to distract you with hugs from behind and trying to lean over you and kiss your face.

You laugh but instruct him once more to sit himself down. After another minute of him pestering you, you nudge him with your hip to move himself over to the table and he finally lets go of you and lets you finish your delicious creation.

He says a thank you when you place it down in front of him and he was going to give you a kiss until you practically whipped yourself back to the kitchen counter, just ruffling his hair

“Hey.” Matty says to make you look over at him, and when you do, he asks, “What’s up?”

You put your own lunch on your plate and when you sit down on the seat at the end of the table, you say, “Nothing, why?”

Matty points out, “You've not let me kiss you for the past two days.”

You go quiet then feeling bad because you haven’t kissed your boyfriend. And for the fact you’d not been honest about it and its leading him to ask questions like, “Have I done something?

“No Matty.” You tell him softly, never wanting to make him think that.

You look into his gorgeous brown eyes and you can see he’s just curious about your behaviour. Usually you’re all over each other, but you have been pretty distant and with him only being back for 3 weeks it hurt your heart not to have him the way you wanted him.

But you’d rather not have the anxiousness that came with you being overly self-aware of your lips against his.

“Then what’s up?” Matty asks, watching as you avoid eye contact and just concentrate on your food.

You glance at his plate and see it’s going untouched, so you gesture to it saying, “I promise I’m fine, just eat before it goes cold.”

“Don’t tell me you've gone off me?” Matty says after a few seconds.  

And when you just take a deep breath to try and think over another excuse, Matty asks, “Oh my god, have you?”

“No.” Your eyes snap up to his in panic. You didn’t want him to think that at all, so you repeat, “No, never.”

“Then what's up?” Matty chuckles and then noticing your look of panic he makes light of it asking, “I’m feeling very affection starved.”

You close your eyes, sighing, “Matty.”

“Come on, love.” Your boyfriend chuckles before taking your hand and asking again, “What’s up?”

“Is it not obvious?” You ask, feeling like your lips were really disgusting right now.

Matty shakes his head, “I’ve got no clue why you won't let me kiss you.”

After a deep breath you tell him the truth, “My lips are a fucking state.”

“Your lips are fine.” Matty frowns a little confused, looking down at them. “What do you mean?”

You say in a vulnerable voice, hating having to point it out, “Matty it’s split.”

Matty glances back down at then again and he reaches up to cup your jaw. You resist the urge to pull away from his reach because after all he was the person who knew you best.

His thumb comes up and runs across your bottom lip then and he shakes his head, “It's tiny.”

You shake your head a little so his thumb drops. He was being polite; it wasn’t tiny at all. The only highlight was that it was starting to heal.

You follow up with, “I hate it, they feel all dry and disgusting.”

“You’re thinking they are a lot worse than they are Darling. I don’t hate them at all.” Matty says, scooting his chair a little closer so he could easily trace your lips again.

He softly asks, a little more sympathetic, “Did you really not want to kiss me because of that?”

“It’s vile.” You shake your head.

“It’s not.” Matty says and then adds, “You’re my girlfriend, I wanna kiss you all the time.”

You put your hand over your lips and shake your head.

“Stop that.” Matty bats your hand away but as soon as he retreats you cover your lips again.

“Stop it.” Matty insists, pulling your hand down and keeping hold of it, “You don’t have to do that.”

You try to pull your hand away but when he doesn’t let you, so you just bring your other one up when you say, “I do because you keep looking.”

“Only because I want to kiss them.” Matty grins at you.

You shake your head and look back down. Noticing your plates are still full, you try to change the subject by saying, “The food’s going cold.”

“It’ll get colder if you don't give me a kiss.” Matty grins.

You sigh then, still feeling conscious and you’re about to protest but your boyfriend doesn’t let you retreat again.

“Y/N.” Matty says before you can protest, “I want to kiss you all the time.”

He then makes a pouty face at you then and puckers his lips making kissing noises at you. He gets you giggling within seconds and your heart swells with how lovely he’s being towards you.

Matty can obviously tell it's something you’re not comfortable about. But he didn’t care in the slightest.

He loved you with the whole of his heart and he’d do everything he could to make you love yourself as much as he loved you. And if that meant kissing your pretty lips every second of every day, he would do.

You chuckle at your boyfriend puckering his lips at you and you ask, “Even wanna kiss me when my lips are mingin’?”

“They’re not mingin’.” Matty assures you before he just abandons his chair and just kneels on the ground in front of you.

He still has a hold of your hand and he gives it a little squeeze before he assures you, “I love you Y/N, course I wanna kiss you.”

You smile at him then and when he actually goes go for the kiss Matty is really happy you don’t stop him. Your kiss was just as sweet as it usually was and Matty felt the excitement bubble away inside him like it always had at the mere thought of kissing you.

But Matty just kept his one sweet, making sure you were calm and relaxed. And he was pleased to know you were.

When Matty pulls away, he smiles, “See...? Wasn't so bad, was it?

Your cheeks go a little hot then, seeing how much adoration was in his eyes. You don't hesitate to tell him, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Matty grins, before cheekily asking, “Can you have another one?”

You giggle at his one-track mind, but you decide to make him wait. You pass him your plate and say, “After you warm up my eggs.”

Your boyfriend takes it with a laugh and grabs his own plate. But he steals one more kiss from his gorgeous girlfriend on the way back to the stove.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You can add yourself to my Taglists in my Masterlist x

[weaverlings]

music like white noise

A/N: hello i still Care Them very much

-

Hornet reached for the mug on the table, to soothe the tickle in her throat before it was too late. Before-

She coughed.

Once. Again.

Then she was wheezing, her breath torn and itself tearing her already-tender throat. Driven by the foul compulsion that such a tickle could become, she caught herself on the coffee table and snatched up the mug instead, drowning it all in gulps of tea.

This time, she kept the mug in her grip as she lowered herself back onto the extra cushions and pillows stacked behind her on the couch. She adjusted the blanket with her free claws, fought back the urge to sigh, and took a slower drink.

Lace leaned out of the kitchen, relying on the doorframe to achieve a dangerous angle. “Did you need more tea, sweet?”

“Mm.” Hornet tilted the mug and considered the remaining liquid. “If you could.”

“Of course.”

Lace twirled upright and spun to join Hornet in the living room. Hornet offered up the mug, and Lace leaned down to kiss Hornet’s forehead.

Lace frowned. She pressed a hand where she had kissed. “My, that’s quite a fever.”

“You say this like it’s some achievement.”

“Oh, yes. Not everyone could have such a fever, nor be so lovely even when laid low.”

Hornet snorted, which became a cough. She threw one arm out; Lace passed the tea back into Hornet’s claws. Hornet drained it. She’d averted the worst this time, at least.

“Oh, dear. Sorry, darling.” Lace kissed her again, the same as before, and reclaimed the mug.

“Give me but a moment.”

“Not your fault,” Hornet said to Lace’s back, and settled into her nest again. Unthinkingly, she closed her eyes, giving in however briefly to the not-quite-ache behind them: the sensation like rotted webbing, throbbing slowly.

She should have been in bed, but that would have had Lace back and forth all day at her own insistence, and Hornet’s restlessness would have driven her forth for her own tea at some point. Once, her self-reliance was an endless wellspring, painfully and necessarily so. Resisting this habit could still be its own battle.

So they had reached a compromise: this nest, the pillows and cushions and blankets. Lace had selected them and fluffed them up. Lace had brought Hornet food, and stayed with her in between these tasks.

Lace returned with the mug now, along with a plate and a damp cloth draped over one arm. She looked Hornet over – her dulled chitin, her sharp limbs burrowed or shrouded in fabric, absent their usual sense of constant, pre-spring tension. Hornet’s eyes opened; she watched as Lace set down the tea and the plate and took the cloth in both hands and leaned over her again. Those eyes were tired. Attentive, but tired. Hornet was tired, and it was bound to show through sometimes.

“Here, darling,” Lace said, plainly, tenderly. She draped the cloth between Hornet’s horns, where it might shift, but wouldn’t fall, even if she moved.

“Thank you.” Hornet did move, tugging the plate closer. Toast, topped with a careful amount of spicy pickled waterbug. In truth, she had little appetite, but she needed whatever food she could manage. And it had been thoughtfully prepared, with just enough of the soft spread to keep the toast from being unpalatable. She wouldn’t waste this.

She tucked up her legs as she ate. Lace sat down beside her and picked up a waiting book. Hornet set the plate back on the table and lay back. Lace said nothing, only resting a hand lightly on Hornet’s leg, over the blanket.

Hornet had no input to offer, and Lace’s theatrics were, if anything, born from an understanding of when not to speak. There was no weight in their silence, nothing wanting, nothing to fill.

Sleep would be best. Hornet closed her eyes.

But everything, everything grated – her breath down her throat, the fever under her shell, her head’s wavering between pressure and pain. Indeed, none of it was pain, precisely. She could manage pain, push through if needed. But this wasn’t pain, just sickness. Normal sickness. She didn’t need to push through, and in fact doing so would be detrimental to her recovery.

Sleep would be best. She had eaten, now she should sleep. She should sleep.

As if thinking about it ever helped. She grunted.

“Go ahead and turn on the radio, love,” Lace suggested.

Hornet rolled onto her side. “It won’t bother you?”

“Not at all.”

The device in the center of the coffee table was modern and graceful, all whorls in wood and shining metal. Lace reached forward to fiddle with the wires before pushing it closer to her wife and leaning back, satisfied.

Hornet twisted one bright knob. The next thing she did was lower the volume, and then she let the program sink in. An announcer’s soft voice, offering information about agricultural statistics. She flicked the dial.

A sporting match. This piqued her interest.

She lingered on it. Shots passed and caught, equipment wielded with precision and valor.

It reminded her of all the exercises she’d rather do herself.

Flick.

Two former nobles arguing about something, and ignoring a moderator who tried to bring reason.

Flick.

Instrumental music. Pleasant.

But it left her in the same restless daze that silence had.

Flick.

An audio drama. An angry former guard and a thief, something about a cursed mask.

Trials were performed for the entertainment of others, again rich people behaved poorly.

Though there was some comeuppance.

Hornet listened through to the inevitable betrayal at the end of the episode, in part because she wasn’t absorbing anything at all. She was subject to another coughing fit partway through, requiring more tea and a steadying backrub from her wife.

After that, she realized that this would require more focus than she had to appreciate, and that if she had that focus, she wouldn’t have enjoyed it much. It wasn’t to her taste.

Once again, her claws darted from under the blankets. Flick.

An opera. The singer’s voice was dimmed by the radio, but otherwise high and full in spite of the grainy speaker. Hornet listened long enough to determine that it was a comedy; the singer was dramatically lamenting a ribbon lost in a river as if it were a pet.

“You could do better,” Hornet observed.

Lace sang quietly, without looking up, “Just so, ma petite araignée, just so.”

Still, she left it on. It occupied enough of her attention to let the rest of her drift off. And it seemed that Lace was familiar with the piece, because here and there she sang along: sweetly finishing the lament of the ribbon, falling silent for the next section about a carriage ride, and joining in again for a song about cheesemaking.

Hornet thought it was about cheesemaking. She dozed, deeper and deeper, catching less frequent snatches of music. So perhaps the cheesemaking was a metaphor of some sort.

She couldn’t be sure.

-

Hornet sneezed, uncurled, and was halfway upright on one arm before Lace said, “Where do you think you’re going, darling?

Hornet looked over, and stared at her numbly. Her breath wheezed through her mouth. Finally, she said, “Wherever I please.”

And then she dropped back heavily onto the couch and pressed her face back into a pillow. The cloth rubbed into her shell. It should have been tepid, but it was refreshingly cool. She lifted her head enough to pluck at it, and found that it was a different color than before. Lace must have changed it while she slept. Hornet hadn’t stirred at all, so she supposed she’d needed the rest.

“How long?”

“Long enough for me to make soup.” Lace leaned forward and spun the lid off a thermos that had been waiting on the table. She passed it to Hornet. “About four hours.”

The soup went down almost easily. Her sore throat had been replaced by mere roughness, and the warmth and substance itself would have helped no matter what. She took a long drought, drawing in the salt and strength.

She set it back on the table with a determined plunk. “Much better. My thanks.”

“Good.” Lace sighed fondly. “It’s so boring when you’re not well enough to spar. No one else is half as fun.”

Hornet smiled, a wide twitch of her chelicerae. “Ah, and so you reveal your true purpose.”

Lace pressed a hand to her chest. “Wanting to spend time with my handsome wife, feeling her best?”

“Don’t frame it like that. You’ll make me feel guilty for teasing.”

“You always were soft-hearted,” Lace said, her lilt making it a compliment. She leaned in and stole a quick kiss between Hornet’s parted fangs.

“As you say. But enough,” Hornet croaked the declaration. She cleared her throat and coughed, but got her breath back alone. She took a drink of soup just because she wanted it. She sat up and shoved the pillows towards the back of the couch, and commanded, “Come here.”

“Very well.” Lace obliged, claiming the space Hornet indicated so that Hornet could lie in Lace’s lap. “Comfortable?”

“Finally.” Hornet slid her arm up to reach around Lace’s shoulder from the back. She pulled herself against Lace’s chest. “If you try to move me, you’ll see whether or not I’m truly able to spar.”

Lace hummed. “You are feeling better, aren’t you? Don’t worry. I’d not give up such a luxury as this.”

"Nor would I," Hornet agreed. She nestled into Lace's lap, and closed her eyes again.

Her entire life had become luxurious, it seemed. And there were no requirements to earn it; not suffering, duty, nor any performance. She could have them just by existing, which was well enough, if surreal.

But then there was this, too: here and now, the softness around her aching body, the food warm and ready, and – and, miraculously while yet the most natural thing in the world – her wife with her. None of it was lost, even while she was suffering. She didn’t have to earn them, but nor were they likely be taken away from her. This had been proven, time and again.

That, she supposed, was safety.

[thestarrynightslover]

It’s a Good Day to Have a Bad Date

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Word count: 2,383

Warnings: Slight mentions of an OC with criminal priors, violent tendencies, and a juvenile record. A teeny-tiny bit of angst.

Summary: The reader meets Jay as she's trying to find out stuff about the guy she's about to go out with and ends up switching dates.

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the One Chicago shows, or its characters, also not associated with it in any way or know anyone involved with it.

A/N: Just to make one thing clear: I did some research on Illinois's laws  (not sure I got it right tho) and, apparently, this fic is very inaccurate. But I really wanted to pursue the idea, so just humor me, please 🙏🏻. Anyways, I had a lot of fun while writing this and thought about making a part two... But I'm not sure. Tell me what you think! 💗

| masterlist |

You inhaled deeply one more time before you walked into the police district. There wasn’t even a real reason for you to be so nervous about it. You weren’t a victim and you weren’t a criminal. So, what’s the worst that could happen? 

The worst that could happen was, of course, you getting a bunch of cops mad at you because you went to waste their time with some pathetic whining. It was decided, you were gonna turn back around right now, while you still had time, and just go home.

On second thought, though, it was a matter of public safety. Your safety. Which was just as valid because you were just as much of a U.S. citizen as anyone else. So you went in. 

Shit. The place was almost empty, which meant everyone would notice if you left. And they’d ask questions, so you figured you’d, at least, get ahead of them, as you walked shyly towards the front desk. There, you were met by an older woman who looked bored, and still, terrifying.

“Can I help you with something?” She asked you, while cautiously checking you out. Oh my God, she thought you could be a victim! You were such an idiot.

“Um, it’s, um, it’s actually nothing, really. I shouldn’t even have come here in the first place.” You told her while smiling a little. What you didn’t know was that what you said had only raised more flags in the sergeant’s mind, even catching the attention of a tall man writing some things down on a paper at the corner of the counter. The young detective stayed back because he knew that Platt would know how to manage the situation, but continued listening to every word of the conversation.

The sergeant, then, took her glasses off, setting them on the counter. “Listen, miss, my name is Trudy Platt and the reason why I became a cop was that I wanted to help people, in every way that I possibly could. So, if you need my help with anything, just tell me what it is. And, I promise, I’ll do everything in my power to give it to you.” She assured you and, as much as you felt this huge sympathy for the woman, you also felt even worse about making her waste her time. So you tried to fix things.

“Oh, my God! I’m so, so, so sorry! I’m not a victim in any way, thank God. I said that I shouldn’t have come here because I’m not even sure if what I wanted to ask is legal…” You told her with a nervous laugh. Hearing that, the Sergeant’s eyes sparked with curiosity.

“Well, then I probably won’t be able to help you.” She told you, stressing the ‘probably’ and making the man at the end of the counter shamelessly turn his face in your direction in order to better hear your conversation. “But… Since you’re already here, and it’s been such a slow day for the District, maybe you should just ask me whatever you want to and I’ll be the judge of whether that’s legal or not. After all, unless you’re some sort of lawyer, I should know more about the law than the average civilian.” The Sergeant skilfully baited you.

“Um, no, I’m not a lawyer.” You confirmed with a small laugh while tugging some of your hair behind your ear. “Actually, since I’ve just recently moved here to Chicago ⎼ to Illinois, really ⎼, I’m probably a lot below your average civilian.” You stated with a giggle. At that, the guy that had lost his discretion about eavesdropping started chuckling a little himself, to which the older woman responded with a look you’d absolutely hate having directed to you.

“So, Chuckles, you have nothing better to do than to stay here listening to other people’s conversations?”

“First of all, it’s detective,” he started in a mocked smug tone, “and, second: no, uh, I actually don’t. I came to fill this paperwork down here exactly because we were about to kill each other upstairs, just to get out of the boredom.” He added, raising some paper files he had in-hand. “Besides, you know how much I, too, love to help people.” He said while shooting you a charming smile. Okay, that guy was pretty handsome. “Jay Halstead, nice to meet you.” The detective informed you, holding out his hand.

“Right, um, nice to meet you too, sir.” You replied, shaking his hand. “I didn’t even say my name, what a clums!” You joked while patting yourself on the forehead. “I’m (y/n) (y/l/n).”

“Okay, just, please, lose the ‘sir’ with that one, otherwise, he’ll never let it go.” Trudy chipped back in the conversation.

“So, what was it that you wanted to ask the sarge? I can assure you that we’ll let you know if it’s illegal. After all, two judges are better than one.” He suggested, all smiles.

“Since when?” The sergeant practically barked at the younger man, just to add: “You know what? You wanna be here at my front desk, Halstead? Then be here, but be quiet and let the lady talk.” She bluntly ordered him, who decided to do as he was told.

“Alright, um, it’s just that this guy who I don’t really know anything about asked me out and I said yes, even though I got a bad vibe from him?” They just stared at you with their jaws dropped, so you added: “Pathetic, I know. But I didn’t really wanna judge him without any proof, or anything like that, so I figured that, maybe, I could try and check if he has any criminal priors or something.” You finished with a tiny embarrassed smile.

“And why on Earth would you think that we could give you this type of information?” The sergeant asked you, her expression being one of pure shock.

“I, uh…” You didn’t really want to embarrass yourself even more but felt the urge to explain anyways. “It’s just that I’m a small-town girl, okay? And, over there, everybody knew my family, so, whenever I wanted to go out with someone, my dad would just ask his buddies at the Sheriff’s office to look the guy over. And he always told me that that was really important, so, when I moved to the state’s capital, I just wouldn’t go out with anyone unless a close friend vouched for him. Because I was terrified of what I’d see and hear on the news. But here… I don’t really know anyone yet.” You blurted it all out, to two strangers! To two cops who probably had something, or somethings, better to do than to listen to your whining. “Anyhow, I’m really sorry that I wasted your time, guys. Won’t happen again.” At that, they exchanged a look, and the sergeant said:

“You know what? You’re right, kid. The world is a dangerous place. And, unfortunately, it is even more dangerous for us women. So I’m gonna look the guy up. But I’m not gonna tell you exactly what it says if something comes up.” She told you, much for your surprise, and, then, turned to the detective, saying: “If you say a single word about this to anyone, and I mean anyone, Chuckles, I swear to God that I’ll cut your tongue out myself.”

“Geez, sarge. How can you swear such an ugly thing like that to God?” He asked her, in a mockery tone, while making a hilarious expression.

“Ha! Keep that up and your tongue won’t be the only thing I’m gonna cut.” She threatened him again and you couldn’t help but burst into laughter when he made a shocked expression and put his hands protectively over his crotch.

“For your information, I wanna help the girl just as much as you, so I wouldn’t say anything. You didn’t have to threaten me.” He tried to recover, as you handed her a small piece of paper with your possible date’s name.

“Oh, I know. But I wasn’t about to miss out on the opportunity.” She shot back at him while typing the name on the District’s computer. “Okay, here it is... Wow."

"What? What is it?" You asked her, as you watched the detective perk himself over the counter to look at the screen.

"Jesus. This guy's got himself quite a rap sheet." He commented, making you shiver, thinking of what could happen to you, if you went on with the date.

"What exactly do you mean by that, detective?" You asked the man who probably noticed your discomfort, because he spoke again, in a tranquilizing tone:

"No, relax. It's nothing too bad, like violent or anything. But there's some pretty nasty stuff here." He told you, not really making you relax.

"There's something here, though." That caught the detective's eye again. "His juvenile record is sealed, the only thing I can see without a warrant is an observation from his caseworker. She says something about him having violent tendencies." She told you with a sigh, taking her glasses off again. "Look, I know that I can't tell what to do and what to not do, (y/n), but, as a suggestion? Stay the hell away from this piece of work. You seem like a nice enough girl, I'd hate to see you come in here as a victim someday."

“Oh, God, no! I heard you loud and clear, sergeant! Don’t worry about it, I’m canceling that date ASAP!” You exclaimed, agreeing with her.

“That’s great!” The detective spoke this time, sounding a little too happy about the fact that you were about to cancel a date with a man who had criminal priors and violent tendencies. So both you and the other woman stared at him. “Err, I mean because you’re not gonna go out with him.” You just giggled a little at the way he was digging an even deeper hole for himself. “Because he’s a bad guy.” He added, once again getting a glare from Trudy. “You know what I mean.” He finished, defeated, not looking in your eyes.

“Well, uh,” you started, trying to keep yourself from laughing too hard, “anyways, I can only thank you both. You guys got me out of something that could be really unpleasant, to say the least.” You told them, a bit more serious this time.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. Just glad we could help.” Detective Halstead said, smiling kindly at you.

“Yeah. This time, I actually agree with you, Halstead.” The sergeant half-joked.

“Aw, that’s very kind, but, really, thank you!” You restated your gratitude, then asking: “I should probably get going now, right? Stop wasting your time?”

“It’s not like we were doing much before you got here-” Trudy began saying, but was interrupted by the detective, who quickly told you:

“Yeah, you should go. You know, cause a police District…” You knew he was right, but those two seemed like really nice people, especially after having helped you dodge a bullet, so to speak, and you’d hoped that you were finally making some friends in the Windy-City. “Anyways, um, lemme walk you out.” He offered you while motioning to the door. At that, you and the sergeant shared a look that told you she also found it weird that the detective would wanna walk with you through such a minimal distance.

“Uh, um, o- okay.” As you and Halstead walked towards the exit, you couldn’t help but notice what nice features he had. Like, your mind just kept going back to what a good-looking man he was.

“So…” He trailed off.

“So…” You answered, not really sure about what to say.

“You know, um, it’s gotta be a hell of a bummer for you. Being here in Chicago without knowing many people. This city… It’s all about finding your community.” He told you in a sympathetic tone.

“Hum…” You breathed out as you thought about it for a moment. “Yeah, well, I guess that I can only hope I’ll have better luck at making acquaintances the next time I go out to explore it.”

“Right.” The detective agreed. “Uh, listen, I know that this may sound a little too forward, but, maybe, I could show you some of my favorite places, someday? I mean, only if you’re interested! Because I don’t want you to feel like-”

“Actually, I’d very much like that! If it isn’t going to be any trouble for you…” You cut him off excitedly.

“No! No trouble at all!” He quickly assured you. “Um, thi- this is my card.” He said, lifting up a small business card for you to see. “I’m gonna write my personal number on the back of it. Call, or text me when you have some time to go out. Or if you just want someone to talk…” The handsome man added with a smile. God, what a smile.

“Okay, um, thanks, dete-”

“No, please! Call me Jay.”

“Alright,” you acknowledged, a little nervous this time, “then, thank you, Jay. Just, be advised, I can be very talkative sometimes, which means you might regret giving me this.” You warned him with a sly smile while waving the card in front of his face.

“Huh.” Jay pretended to consider it for a moment. “Is it too weird if I say I have a feeling that I won’t regret it?” He then asked you with a cute shy smile.

“Well, it sure isn’t weirder than me saying that I really hope you don’t regret it.” You confessed to him with a wink.

“Hey, are you two gonna take that flirting elsewhere on your own, or do you need me to get you a room?” You heard Sergeant Platt call out, blushing immediately.

“I’m so sorry about that!” Jay told you, looking a little flushed himself. “You should probably go now.” He added with an apologetic smile.

“Yeah, I think you’re right..” You agreed, but, as you were turning around to leave, he grabbed your wrist lightly, saying:

“Just… Don’t forget to call.” Hearing that, you snickered a little.

“I have a feeling that I won’t.” You told him, almost repeating his previous words, which got some chuckles out of him.

Now you understood the nickname.

[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.”