#half a step away from saying christmas is cancelled
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thought about finances again im gonna crack
#d speaks#half a step away from saying christmas is cancelled#brothers gonna have to pay the majority of rent next month which tbf i think thats justified anyway#since ive been doing the entirety of rent for like 3 years#and he shortchanged me this month#and made an expensive purchase#on top of an already expensive month#literally if anything goes wrong over the next 2 weeks im gonna [redacted]#he makes it so hard to have a buffer and thats what i need going into january so fucking bad#anyway time to shut off feeling and go to my job that i totally love and doesnt make me want to rip my hair out
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Merry Christmas @lolcat76! Have some sickeningly happy Shandy <3
St. Joseph’s newly renovated reception hall was full at 7:30 on Sharon Raydor’s wedding night. Sharon and her bridesmaids had spent the previous night stringing twinkle lights, drinking wine coolers, and creating the reception playlist to replace the DJ who had the audacity to cancel the week before the wedding. By the time the vows were sealed with a kiss, bunches of baby’s breath peeked out of the vases on every table, lights sparkled in rows across the room, and place cards assigned everyone to their proper place.
Andy Flynn and Sharon Raydor deserved nothing less than to celebrate their nuptials in style.
As tradition demanded, husband and wife graced the dance floor first. The cream colored pleated skirt of Sharon’s reception dress fluttered against her knees every time she took a step, and Andy’s eyes devoured the skin peeking beneath the lacy top. “Any regrets so far?” Sharon teased, inching one side of her v-neck to cover more of her tasteful cleavage. She giggled when Andy tugged her off balance only to catch her in time for the first step.
“None.” Andy’s breath warmed the skin behind Sharon’s ear, validating her decision to pin her hair up.
After nuzzling Andy’s neck, Sharon eased back far enough to show him how happy she was. An hour and half and counting, and she couldn’t stop smiling. Just when she thought she could give her cheeks a rest, he would kiss her hand, or feed her cake, or pick “Unchained Melody” for their first dance and let her lead.
“We did it,” Sharon said, draping her arm farther around his neck. Tearing her eyes away from Andy’s giddy smile, Sharon scanned the room full of family. “And everyone’s here.”
Andy spun her a few times, because he knew she loved to see her skirt twirl, but pulled her back before too long. “Yeah, we know how to throw a party, huh?”
Sharon scoffed. “I’ve only had one drink and not quite all of one dance. The party’s just getting started.”
Glancing at the bridal party’s long table, Andy rolled his eyes. “Tell that to Provenza. Three glasses of champagne, and he’s practically under the table.”
“Ah-ah,” Sharon said, fingers covering Andy’s lips. “No grumbling today, remember? This is our day to be blissfully and disgustingly happy.”
Andy kissed her fingertips. “You make me this happy every day,” he murmured.
Oh, this man. Sharon stopped smiling for long enough to hum and kiss him, in front of everyone, because she could. They could make out for the rest of the night, right here on the dance floor, and no one could say a word. Today gave them license to show their entire little world how much they looked forward to spending the rest of their lives together.
“You’re so hot when you multitask,” Andy breathed against her lips when he realized Sharon hadn’t missed a step.
Sharon laughed wickedly as Andy lowered her into a deep dip, prompting claps and whistles from their guests. “Then you’ll love my plans for this evening.”
Growling, Andy pulled Sharon upright, their noses inches apart. Sharon’s smile softened his intent, and they only exchanged an Eskimo kiss. Sharon smoothed her hands up Andy’s lapels and around his neck, coaxing him closer as the dance ended[R1] . Their guests’ applause broke them apart, and as planned, their children swept them up next. Ricky and Nicole each grabbed a parent, leaving Rusty and Emily to open the dance floor for the rest of the party. Before long, most of the bridal party was dedicated to embarrassing themselves by dancing to songs that only the older half knew.
By the next dance, husband and wife were reunited on the dance floor. Looking around at a room packed with friends and family, Sharon was relieved to see her happiness reflected on so many faces. Even Sanchez bore a grin, but since he chose Chief Johnson as his dance partner, he couldn’t hide his amusement. Cathy Tao kept far away from her husband, whose dance moves were frightening even before alcohol. Andrea, whose inhibitions were too strong to be conquered by pesky emotions, enjoyed herself on the sidelines with Fritz and a hefty slice of cake. Amy and Wes huddled in a corner with Elliott, trying to avoid dance partners. Andy’s grandchildren—Sharon’s step grandchildren—chased each other around the reception hall.
“Hey.” Andy squeezed Sharon’s waist. “You okay?”
Sharon’s smile could have lit all of Los Angeles. “I’m perfect. Everything is perfect. I’ve never been so happy.” She shook her head incredulously. “How did we get so lucky?”
“Hey, we worked hard for this,” Andy said, only half teasing. “Everything we’ve endured, everything we’ve given up, everything we’ve suffered—and we ended up here.”
Here, swaying in the arms of the love of her life, surrounded by everyone they love. Leaning forward, Sharon rested her forehead against her husband’s. “I’d do it all again, to be here with you.”
In the midst of a crowded dance floor, Andy Flynn kissed his wife breathless.
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Where I've been + Update Scheduling(?)
Heyyyyy everyone, what's uuuupppp! It's Mod Freeze here!
Now I know these last few weeks have been hysterical. Updating, and then stopping, and then updating again, and then nothing again, and then updating a tad, and then more of nothing and so on and so forth. So I bet the question on everyone's mind is:
What happened to me? Well, I'll tell you...
As I'm sure many of you are aware, It was my birthday not too long ago followed by Thanksgiving. So of course, I had to spend time with family, and my video games playing through TOTK & Spider-Man 2, cough! And that took some time away from here, and even almost a month later, barely anything, what gives?
Well....I think I recall saying on here I was in process of looking for a new job. While I didn't get the one I was initially after, I did just score a full time job at the post office. I've been getting things together, preparing, and essentially started this week. It's required me to get up early in the morning and by extension not be up so late, which is usually when I post stuff. So, there will be some big changes going forward.
Normally my first job required me to work nights and I would usually get home around half past midnight/1 AM my time and I would update the story then, and sometime in the afternoon when I was much more available and motivated. And the post office is a day time job this time around, and I've even looking to see trying both jobs for some months to earn some more money and maybe even buy a new car. I am still seeing how my official schedule plays out, but what will probably end up happening is more than likely...even less updates unfortunately...
Now I'm not cancelling this blog, far from it. I'm just....stepping back for a bit to focus on the gross adulting world for the time being. But when will I be able to update...well....
My initial schedule was....nonexistent and still isn't. I usually update and post whenever I feel like it. A "It gets done when it's done" mentality that I've had my whole life. And again, I can't say for certain is this new schedule will be true...buuuuuut....
Weekdays are a busy sort for me, and will probably not be updated. Maybe two out of the five weekdays at best, but can't say for certain.
Weekends free me up some more, so posts could potentially be greater on these days than the weekdays.
I know this was essentially a non-answer, but I figured I keep you guys in the loop about what's going on. I apologize that this arc is taking so long to get through, but that's what happens when you're an adult. I hope I can make some more progress soon. And if you don't hear from me until after the holidays. Then I hope you all a have a Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and a Wonderful New Year!
-Mod
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Here With Me Part 9 || Taylor Makar
Author’s Note: A hectic end to the year makes things a bit messy and stressful but Taylor doesn't let it deter him. And ultimately he gets exactly what he wants...the girl. FC: Marina Laswick (@marooshk on instagram).
Warnings: anxiety, alcohol consumption, cursing, fluff // Word Count: 4,421
~~~~~
Eight
Taylor could not possibly be happier to get back to the state of Massachusetts. After flying back after Christmas the team had traveled to Wisconsin amidst canceled flights and it had been a mixed trip to say the least. The highlight beyond getting Henry the win was his facetime with Kelsey after their second game. She had looked so soft in what appeared to be candlelight, pjs and her face barren of makeup. Honestly he’d been a little entranced.
They’d talked for a little over an hour until she looked like she was going to pass out on him and it had been the most relaxed he’d been since Christmas day. Even when the conversation lulled it was never awkward and she didn’t force him to talk about hockey, a welcomed relief especially after the prior day’s game and having been benched for a period.
By the end of their call, Taylor wasn’t ashamed to admit that he was half hard just from being so relaxed and if he had been any more tired he might have just asked Kelsey to be his then and there.
He was glad he hadn’t because that was something better done in person, but more than ever he wanted to take that step.
Texting Mercs that he could come back since he’d stepped out when he’d come back to Taylor on the phone, Taylor placed his phone to charge and shifted in bed, ready to sleep.
If Taylor had thought the trip to Wisconsin sucked, the trip home was even worse. Not because of the travel itself but because he had discovered that once again he had fucked up majorly when it came to Kelsey.
On the bus ride to the airport Taylor was finally scrolling through his instagram for the first time since leaving campus and after talking to Kelsey he couldn’t help but peek at her tagged posts. He was expecting the same ones he’d seen previously, however there were a smattering of a half dozen new posts. As he clicked on the first, confusion as to why there were so many turned to panic as captions reading ‘someone’s feeling 22’, ‘a million birthday wishes to the girl who lights up every room she walks into’, ‘who needs fireworks when your bff is a rocket on her birthday’, and ‘Happy Birthday Kels.’
“Oh fuck. Shit. Damn it.” Spilled from his lips as he rubbed at his face before banging his head into the seat in front of him.
He had apparently fucking missed her birthday as all of the posts were tagged the 27th and 28th.
Wracking his brain Taylor couldn’t for the life of him remember her ever mentioning that her birthday was coming up. He was certain he would have filed that away as important.
Banging his head again while continuing to mumble curses, Taylor drew the attention of Mikey whose seat he was concussing himself on, causing him to turn around.
“Dude. What the fuck.” Mikey declared, giving Taylor a clear look of cut that the fuck out. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
Mikey’s exclamations weren’t all that loud on a crowded bus but they drew the attention of the other roommates who turned to look at them.
“Is there a problem?” Lauts asked, an eyebrow raised at Taylor.
“I missed her birthday.” Taylor mumbled, sighing loudly and throwing his head back against his seat.
With his roommates wincing, Taylor knew that yeah that was as big of a fuck up as he believed it to be.
“Well at least you’ve got the whole flight home to figure out how you’re going to fix it.” Mercs declared, patting Taylor’s knee as he gave him a sympathetic look.
Yeah he needed to figure out how to fix it. How could he have completely missed her birthday. Like isn’t that one of the first things you’re supposed to learn about someone, especially someone you like.
Sighing again, Taylor closed his eyes trying to figure out how he could possibly make it up to Kelsey.
Ultimately he settled on flowers and cupcakes and a small present knowing that Kelsey would probably be annoyed if he took it too far.
****
Though they’d debated on going out for New Years, with fatigue from travel still lingering, Taylor and his roommates decided to just pick up some things from the store and stay in, staying up late playing video games and listening to music.
As the dedicated DJ, Taylor kept checking his phone between games and he couldn’t help but peek at instagram. Around nine o’clock it became very clear that Kelsey was going out tonight and she looked incredibly sexy dressed in jeans and a black top with sheer sleeves. Her deep red lip made her lips look so kissable and Taylor couldn’t help but miss her once more.
Half an hour later she was out on the street with a few girls around her and her geotag showed that she was in Boston. He couldn’t help but pout because as desperate as it would have been to ask to see her tomorrow he had been considering it, but she wasn’t even in the western half of the state so that was apparently out of the question.
As much as he was missing Kelsey, Taylor was in an overall decent mood even if he was getting killed at COD a little more than he’d like. And then he opened the newest story she’d shared where she was clearly more than a little inebriated and he swore for a moment that he recognized a few of the guys in the background as guys from BC’s hockey team. Immediately jealousy settled into the pit of his stomach and it wasn’t long before the boys were kicking him to bed because he was getting grumpy and clearly needed sleep.
His suspicions were confirmed when Colby Ambrosio, one of the guys on BC’s roster who was also an avs prospect posted a photo with his girlfriend from the same apartment with a peek of sheer black sleeve peeking off the edge of the frame. Pouting, Taylor continued to scroll through instagram before finally tossing his phone aside to toss and turn in bed.
It took awhile but he finally fell into a bit of a restless sleep and when he woke up and blearily picked his phone up to check the time, he saw a notification that Kelsey had texted him a photo shortly after midnight.
Blinking as his thumb tapped to open in, he nearly fell out of bed seeing her looking drunk but happy, blowing a kiss at the camera. Under it, she’d somehow managed to type out a coherent ‘Happy New Year Tay!’
That familiar pang of desire rolled through him but he couldn’t help but wonder if he was the only one that got a message like that last night. It didn’t seem like something Kels would do but there was still that uncertainty as to whether they were even really anything or not.
Getting up to use the bathroom, Taylor decided to go for a run just needing to clear his head.
****
Taylor had been staring at the unsent message on his phone for at least five minutes after typing it and retyping it at least a dozen times.
He was going to ask Kelsey out…he was just struggling with the phrasing of how to do it. How to best get across that he wasn’t just asking to hang out or to have sex but that he wanted to go on a date with her…wanted more than what they’d been doing.
Taylor: So uh…I was wondering, would you want to go on a date with me Wednesday afternoon?
After finally sending the message, Taylor took a deep breath. All he could do now was wait.
And it was agonizing.
When his phone finally vibrated, his heart leapt into his throat and he anxiously read her reply.
Kelsey: Yes. What time and what should I wear?
Taylor: Awesome. Let’s say 1. Dress warmly and bring your skates.
****
To say that Kelsey had squealed when Taylor had texted her asking her on a date would have been an understatement. They were finally going on an actual date with all of the connotations and expectations that came with the word. Kelsey had been starting to wonder if Taylor wasn’t actually interested in something like that. She knew that he’d been busy and exhausted with travel and they’d continued talking, but it had been basically two weeks since they’d last seen each other and she was desperate for some clear direction on whether this was headed to become anything or not.
Even though Wednesday was still a day and a half away, Kelsey was already digging through her closet trying to plan a warm but date appropriate outfit. She wanted this date to be perfect because she wanted more than this back and forth with Taylor.
She couldn’t help but muse over what he possibly had planned, after all he had told her to bring her skates so that meant that they were skating…unless he was trying to throw her off something else.
****
When she arrived at Taylor’s apartment shortly before 1, Kelsey parked and climbed out of her car, making her way to the increasingly familiar doorway. Within a moment of her knocking the door swung open but all she could see was a retreating figure followed by a holler of “TMak your date is here.”
When Taylor appeared at the door a moment later his cheeks were red and he had in his hand a bouquet of pink flowers.
“Hey Kels.” He murmured, his tone almost shy. “These are for you.” Looking closer, Kelsey spotted a dozen pink roses in the arrangement amidst some other small pink flowers and greenery.
“Very pretty Tay.” Kelsey murmured, taking the pink plastic from him. “You didn’t have to get me flowers though.”
Taylor looked a bit sheepish as he bent over to grab shoes, pulling them onto his feet.
“I wanted to. Plus I missed your birthday.”
Kelsey couldn’t help but shake her head a bit. She should have known that Taylor would have been bothered seeing her birthday posts even if she hadn’t told him about it being her birthday right after Christmas. Once he stood back up, Kelsey shifted into his space and leaned up to kiss him softly.
“Thank you. They’re beautiful.”
The way his hand dropped instinctively to her waist made Kelsey grin and she pulled back after a moment urging him along.
“C’mon T. Coat and skates. I want to know what it is you have planned.”
Nodding, Taylor grabbed the rest of his things before guiding Kelsey out of the apartment and down to her car.
Disposing of his bag and the flowers onto her backseat, the two climbed inside and Taylor immediately pulled up gps on his phone to give her driving directions without telling her exactly where they were going.
It didn’t take long for Kelsey to have a guess based on the route and when she pulled up to the pond she couldn’t help but smile. Outdoor skating. He’d remembered her jealous complaint about him getting to do it in Calgary and so he found somewhere for them to do the same here. It was perfect. Thankfully it had been basically single digit temperatures since just before Christmas so the pond was sufficiently frozen for skating.
And given that it was mid day on a Wednesday with all the kids back in school, the place was basically deserted, just for them.
“This is incredible.” Kelsey murmured softly before shutting the car off and moving to grab her skates from the backseat. Since they were parked relatively close to the ice, she sat down to swap her boots from skates and peeked over her shoulder to Taylor doing the same.
Skates on and firmly tied, Kelsey made sure her blade protectors were secure before standing, using the car for balance as she adjusted to the fine pressure point she was standing on. Then she zipped her jacket a little higher, pulled on a beanie from her coat pocket and grabbed a scarf, pulling it high on her face. Tucking her car key into her jacket pocket, she pulled on gloves and then locked the car, looking up to see Taylor leaning there waiting on her.
“Ready?” He asked softly. Nodding, Kelsey took his gloved hand in hers and walked slowly with him down to the edge of the ice. There, she leaned against him to pop off her skate guards, letting him take them to put in his pocket before stepping onto the ice.
She’d only been outdoor skating maybe once in her life and it had been some dinky rink put up in a parking lot. This was…this was magical and she let Taylor proceed further onto the surface testing for solidness even though there were signs announcing painted marks signaling where it had been deemed safe earlier in the morning.
Confident it was safe, Kelsey skated in a few wide circles just enjoying the feeling of freeness that washed over her. This was truly what she loved most about skating.
Watching her, Taylor knew that this had been the right date choice because she looked so happy even with a good portion of her face hidden from the cold. Letting her skate on her own for a bit, Taylor tested the ice within the painted boundaries just to be safe before returning to her side offering his hand to skate with her.
And that’s what they did for about a half hour before they both knew they needed to go warm up for a bit.
Retreating to the car, Kelsey cranked the heat and sunk into the driver’s seat waiting for the welcome relief of warmth. When Taylor reached into the backseat she looked at him curiously and then smiled seeing him pull a thermos and two plastic mugs from his bag.
At his request she held the cups as he poured the hot liquid into them and sighed breathing in the warm chocolatey scent revealing its contents.
“My mom’s recipe.” Taylor murmured as he put the lid on the thermos and took one of the mugs from her. When Kelsey took a sip, it was evident that this was more than powdered mix and water. It was rich and creamy, perfectly sweet with just a hint of vanilla.
She couldn’t believe that she was this lucky.
He’d bought her flowers. He’d brought her to do something so perfectly them. He’d made homemade hot chocolate from his mom’s recipe. He was just too good and oh boy was she in deep.
“I’m gonna need this recipe Tay.” She murmured after taking a few more sips of the rich warm drink letting the warmth fill her from head to toe.
“I think I can probably manage that.” He agreed, the look in his eyes soft as she met his gaze.
They continued to enjoy the comfortable silence until both beverages were gone and all traces of cold had left their bodies.
“Want to get back out there?” Taylor asked, causing Kelsey to nod excitedly. This was just too good and she wanted it to last as long as possible.
And so they skated. Her black leather gloved hand in his brown leather laden one. Occasionally, Taylor would take both her hands in his and skate backward faster than she was capable of, just allowing her to glide as the wind whipped around her. It was freeing in the most magical way and they stayed on the ice until her bones were aching from the cold and her hands were numb.
This time when they headed back to the car, Taylor took the keys from her and started it, murmuring for her to sit on the backseat. Once heat was pumping from the vents he came and squatted in front of her, quickly and efficiently untying her skates and pulling them off of her feet one by one, replacing them with her boots which he’d evidently slipped foot warmers into at some point because despite being in a mostly cold car were warm and toasty.
Pulling her from the backseat he held her for a moment, nudging her scarf down to press his cold lips onto hers for the briefest kiss.
“Go get warm.” He murmured, urging her back into the driver's seat while he took his own skates off before joining her.
“That was amazing. Thank you.” Kelsey whispered, looking over at him while she waited for her body to defrost enough to safely drive.
“Thank you for agreeing to come.” Taylor replied, his cheeks red from the cold and expression still slightly nervous. “Now I don’t know about you but I’m starving. We should go get dinner.”
“Yeah I could eat.” Kelsey agreed even if it was going to be an early dinner, they had definitely earned it skating for so long in such cold temperatures.
With Taylor suggesting Italian to which Kelsey eagerly agreed, she drove them through the Amherst streets to Pasta e Basta, parking in a nearby lot.
As the restaurant had just recently opened for the day it didn’t take long to be seated and Kelsey slipped off her jacket revealing her striped sweater. Taylor did the same and Kelsey took a moment to appreciate the pullover he had on under his jacket having been too mentally preoccupied to notice it earlier.
Ordering just some water to start since they both needed to rehydrate, they looked over the menu, limbs bumping gently under the table before settling in a way that was comfortable for both but provided some contact.
“What are you thinking?” Taylor questioned after a few minutes, having already put his menu down.
Unsure of what she wanted, Kelsey shrugged.
“You know you can order whatever you want.” Taylor murmured, bumping her leg slightly. ‘You know I’m not going to judge you even if your food preferences are sometimes subject.”
Shooting him a playful glare, Kelsey continued to pour over the menu.
“If you don’t make up your mind soon, I’m liable to just order for you.” He teased.
“You know what…go for it.” Kelsey declared. “I trust you.”
A little surprised because he had not been expecting that response, Taylor pursed his lips and looked over the menu with Kelsey’s tastes in mind.
By the time the waitress appeared asking if they had decided, Taylor nodded.
“I’ll have the chicken picatta and she’ll have the Sirloin Alfredo.”
With the waitress writing that down and checking the desired wellness level of Kelsey’s steak, Taylor looked at her with a ‘well how did I do’ expression on his face.
Alone again, Kelsey could only smile.
“You can consider that a passing mark.” She murmured, sipping at her water again.
“I’m learning what you like slowly but surely.” He grinned back, looking satisfied. Kelsey could only hope that statement included that he was learning just how much she liked him.
They chatted a bit while they waited for their food, catching each other up on their christmases and new years even if they had already talked about it over the phone. Then they ate, just taking in the time together and enjoying each other’s company.
When the waitress brought the bill over, Taylor immediately reached for it, causing Kelsey to pout a bit.
“Don’t even.” He murmured. “I asked you on a date. Therefore I am paying for said date. It’s bad enough you’re paying the gas money.”
Sighing softly, Kelsey relented, murmuring that she’d just have to get the next one then. Feeling a little pleased that she was thinking about another date, Taylor happily paid the check before asking if she was ready to head out.
As they walked back to the car, he slipped his hand in hers, pulling her a step closer to him.
“Want to come back to the apartment for a bit?” He questioned, needing her to say yes because he was still trying to figure out how to ask her to be his.
Kelsey really wasn’t ready to go home anyway so she nodded her agreement.
There were even fewer cars at Taylor’s apartment when they returned and he murmured that his roommates were grabbing dinner out before going to see a movie tonight so they had the place to themselves.
After gathering his things from her car, he guided her inside and she followed him into the kitchen so he could rinse the thermos out. There she saw a box of assorted cupcakes on the counter next to a small gift that was too femininely decorated to be for any of the guys.
“Taylor….” She trailed off, causing him to turn and look at her. Setting the dishes in the sink, he turned to her, stepping close to lift her up onto the counter.
“It may be late but we’re celebrating your birthday Kels. Now sit still for a second.”
Following his direction, Kelsey sat still while Taylor cleaned the thermos and mugs and when he turned back he grabbed the box of cupcakes telling her to pick one. Choosing a red velvet with cream cheese frosting, Taylor nodded and took it from her, turning away. When he turned back it was lit with a single candle and Taylor held it in front of her.
“Happy Birthday Kels.” He murmured, motioning for her to blow it out.
Tossing the extinguished candle, he handed her the cupcake and reached for the small gift bag, setting it beside her.
“It’s nothing crazy…” He assured her nodding for her to look through it. Inside, Kelsey found a small bottle of lavender scented lotion with a piece of paper attached promising a massage when she so desired. She also found a small bottle of warming sexual lubricant which made her giggle softly imagining Taylor out with his roommates buying it.
“Thanks Taylor.” Kelsey murmured, leaning forward to kiss him softly. “You didn’t have to get me anything though.”
“Yeah I did.” He disagreed, kissing her forehead before murmuring for her to come to his room. Letting him lift her off the counter, Kelsey complied and grabbed her gift bag, munching on the cupcake as they retreated to his room.
There she shed her coat and the bag, licking her fingers as she finished off the cupcake. She didn’t know where he’d gotten them but boy was it good.
Seeing Taylor sitting on the edge of his bed, Kelsey moved over to him, sliding to straddle his lap. Gently she pushed the hat off of his head, carding her fingers through his wavy hair until it was tamer and laying properly.
“Today was really really nice Tay. I missed you.” Feeling him hug her, Kelsey gathered that he missed her too and just leaned her head against his shoulder feeling him rub her back.
After everything leading up to this point and including today, it felt to Kelsey that they’d been dating for who knows how long, just without a label. And now she really needed that label. She needed to know where they stood, if he actually wanted to be hers.
Deciding that if he wasn’t going to ask she was going to, Kelsey moved to sit up fully. But before she could even open her mouth, Taylor’s voice reached her ears.
“Hey Kels…” He started swallowing hard. “I really really like spending time with you. I like talking to you. And it’s crazy how much I miss you whether you’re just across town or a country away.” He bit his lip as he took a moment’s pause. “Would you uh…want to be my girlfriend?”
It had felt like that question was never going to happen and Kelsey felt herself breathe deeply again.
“If you mean you want me to be yours exclusively, then yes.” Kelsey murmured.
The weight seemed to drop off of Taylor’s shoulders and he brushed his thumb across her jaw.
“Considering I haven’t even looked at another girl since I met you, yeah that’s what I want.”
Taylor was so completely opposite to every athlete she’d ever met and it was the most refreshing thing in the world.
“So I can call you my boyfriend now?” Kelsey asked. “Officially?”
Taylor’s only response was a kiss. The softest, most feeling filled kiss Kelsey had ever experienced.
With neither wanting to let go as they processed this new step, they continued kissing, pouring out so many emotions that had been held back by fear and uncertainty.
Eventually though, Kelsey pulled away murmuring that she really needed to use the bathroom before they resumed this. Though Taylor was reluctant to let her go, she was finally able to persuade him and slipped away.
Holy shit. He’d finally not only asked her out but asked her to be his.
It felt like a dream but if it was one she never wanted to wake up.
Returning to Taylor’s room, she found him lying on his bed and she moved over to squeeze in beside him. Immediately, his fingers found her hair and she rested a hand on his chest.
He was hers. No more guessing whether he felt the same way, no more holding back all the things that you couldn’t say to just a hookup, no more wondering if tonight he’d found another girl to warm his bed.
Basking in each other’s presence, Taylor lifted her hand to kiss her fingers before sighing contentedly. When she looked up at him the adoration in his eyes was so pure that it made her breathless. Kissing him again, Kelsey just enjoyed the fact that she could officially do this whenever she wanted.
It wasn’t long before she was dozing slightly as the skating and the cold and this new change caught up to her
Feeling her settle, Taylor kissed her head and slipped his phone out of his pocket. Snapping a selfie to just remember this moment, Taylor switched the phone to the arm that was wrapped around Kelsey, dropping his other hand to rest on top of hers, rubbing his thumb against her knuckles. After a moment her palm flattened against his chest and when she didn’t show signs of stirring, Taylor laced his fingers with hers.
It was of this that he snapped a photo, hands entwined on his chest shooting it off in a text to Mark, and his mom and dad.
Finally he’d gotten the girl.
Flowers:
#taylor makar#taylor makar imagine#nhl imagines#nhl imagine#hockey imagine#hockey imagines#cavalanche#colorado avalanche#colorado avalanche imagine#046
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Ghost of Christmas Past - Jake Jensen x Reader
A/N: This is for @wiypt-writes 25 days of Chris-mas! Day 12! dividers made by @firefly-graphics
Summary: Christmas without Jake is a thought you just can’t bare to think
Word Count: 1.4k
Warnings: Swearing, angst!, mention of character death, grief, tiny bit of fluff
Masterlist
You’d always loved Christmas, you were one of the ones that started celebrating as soon as possible. But for the first time in your life you weren’t looking forward to it at all.
Your friends and family did the best they could to cheer you up and get you in the spirit but nothing worked. You knew it wouldn’t, and deep down they did too, because this was the first Christmas since Jake’s death.
You couldn’t bring yourself to enjoy anything because all you could think was how Jake should be there. The two of you were best friends, you’d known each other for years. he’d always been there and now he wasn’t and there was no changing that fact.
“Dear could you sort through this box for me?” You mom asked putting a box down in front of you.
“What is it?” You ask sitting up from your slouched position on the couch.
“Just stuff from the last Christmas party, do you mind making sure its all fine and nothings broken?” She asks pushing the box closer.
“Yeah sure” you sigh opening up the box to start going through it.
You sort through the box pulling out stuff that was broken or near the end of its life. You were half way through the box when you found something that made you freeze and a lump grow in your throat. Reaching in you gingerly pull out some candy cane sunglasses and a green feather boa that had little baubles on it.
Tears form in your eyes as you remember the last time you saw them. At the last Christmas party being worn by Jake as he loudly sang ‘all I want for Christmas’. You hold them tightly to your chest as the memory replays in your mind vividly. You couldn’t bare to see anyone else wear them so you took them.
Standing up from the couch you grabbed your coat and pulled on your boots, leaving the house ignoring your mom shouting after you. You walked a path that had become far too common for you. Pausing only when you reached the gates to the cemetery, taking a deep breath before stepping inside.
You reach the gravestone that had his name permanently etched in. You bent down to brush away and debris and make sure it was clean. You then placed the feather boa around the gravestone and the sunglasses on top. Subconsciously humming ‘All I want for Christmas’ as you did so. Letting out a deep sigh once you were done.
“If you were here right now you’d tell me to stop being a scrooge and just enjoy Christmas” you sniffle wiping away your tears.
“But fuck is it hard when you’re not here, because all I can think is how you should be here. I miss you so much but it’s not the missing you that hurts the most, its all the things I regret” you sigh dropping your head shaking it before taking a deep and shaky breath.
“I regret not spending more time with you when you weren’t away. I regret having to cancel that lunch we were supposed to go before you left. I regret not being honest with myself and with you. I regret that I didn’t realise how much I loved you before you were cruelly taken away from me” you continue having to stop because it got too hard, tears streaming down your face.
“Because fuck do I love you, so, so much and I wish I got a chance to tell you because even if it wouldn’t change anything at least you would know” you finish trying and failing to wipe away your tears.
“So if you’re scrooge does that make me the ghost of Christmas past, present or future?” You heard a familiar voice say behind you.
You turn around so quickly you almost fell over. You looked over in horror as you saw the one person you wanted to see the most in the whole world. But he couldn’t be here, you had been told he was dead, killed in action. You’d cried over him, grieved him, you were stood at him goddamn grave! Yet there he was grinning at you as if this was perfectly normal.
You stumble back as you trip to wrap your head around what you were seeing. This couldn’t be real this was just some weird hallucination. You were fast asleep on the couch at home, this was just a cruel trick your subconscious was playing on you. You turn and start walking away, stumbling as you went.
“Whoa Y/N wait hold up!” Jake shouts following after you.
You ignore him covering your ears as you walked even faster away from this nightmare. He continued to shout for you but you continued to ignore him tears streaming down you face as it got harder and harder.
“Y/N Stop! Let me explain” Jake shouts as he grabs your arm stopping you and turning you around.
Seeing his face again every emotion you felt bubbled up inside you leaving you feeling incredibly angry. So much so that you didn’t hesitate to land a punch to his jaw sending him stumbling backwards clutching his jaw in shock.
“No! You don’t get to explain! How dare you do this to me! You put me through hell thinking I had lost my best friend in the worse way imaginable and you just show up out of the blue?! What the fuck! What the fuck is wrong with you!” You scream at him tears cascading down your face.
“Has this just been one big joke to you?! Put everyone through hell and then turn up crack a couple jokes and then everything is okay? How messed up are you!” You continue running your hands through your hair turning in circles unable to look at him.
“Can you stop shouting at me so I can tell you that I love you too?” Jake interrupts making you turn back to face him.
“Don’t do that” you whisper shaking your hear.
“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry, I had no choice” Jake says taking a couple hesitant steps towards you holding his hands up in a calming gesture.
“I don’t believe you” you mutter shaking your head.
“It’s true, we were supposed to be on this helicopter but we didn’t get on, this maniac called Max put a hit out on us and shot down the helicopter, so we threw our dog tags in so everyone thought we were dead when we were really in hiding” Jake explains taking a couple more steps closer.
“I didn’t want to do it, I didn’t want to put you through this, I hated that I couldn’t reach out to you, tell you that I was okay, fuck it killed me because I love you too, so, so much” He continues tears forming in his eyes as he looked down shamefully.
“It really hurt, you really hurt me” you tell him quietly.
“I’m sorry, and if you’ll let me I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make it right” Jake apologises closing the gap enough to put his hands on your shoulders.
You take a shuddering breath as you look up at him, his bright blue eyes staring back at you. You could see how much he was sorry but also how much he was hurting too. You broke down falling into his arm gripping onto him tightly so he could never leave you again. Jake instantly wrapped his arms around you tightly kissing the top of your head.
The two of you just stood there holding each other crying as you held each other. Eventually you pulled away enough that you could look up at him. He gave you a tearful smile as he gently moved your hair from your face before cupping your cheek. His thumb ran over your cheek wiping away the tears that stained your cheeks.
“I missed you so much” he whispered shaking his head gently.
“I missed you too” you sniffled looking back up at him.
Jake smiled gently before leaning down and connecting his lips with yours. The kiss started out hesitantly but soon grew more desperate as every bottled up feeling spilled over. You gripped his top tightly as he wrapped his arms around you, hand moving up into your hair. You only broke away when you had to breathe, the both of you panting as he rested his forehead against yours.
“That was extremely overdue” you mutter.
“I’ll make it worth the wait I promise” Jake promises.
“I love you” he muttered smiling gently.
“I love you too” you murmur as he leans down and presses his lips to yours once more.
Day 5: Johnny Storm / Day 15: Steve Rogers
Masterlist
PLEASE LIKE FOLLOW AND REBLOG (it can be your christmas present to me....)
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the yuletide boyfriend
✩ yangyang x reader | fluff | angst | smut | friends to lovers | college au | 9k
SUMMARY ⇾ your one wish this year is to not be single during the holidays. yangyang, as your best friend, takes it upon himself to be your temporary boyfriend. soon enough, both parties begin to wish this new arrangement could last beyond the holidays. // part of the x-mas in ncity collection WARNINGS ⇾ implied anxiety attack (during the first part of dec 24th – skip if need to), smut, mutual m*sturbation, couch s*x, angst, miscommunication, swearing RATING ⇾ mature TAGLIST ⇾ @infnteen
AUTHOR’S NOTE ⇾ this is my longest fic to date and also... might be my worst b/c i feel like the angst plot points don’t really make sense... but i hope y’all still enjoy!!!
⇾ gif created by me, please don’t share or repost without credit!
NOVEMBER 30th
“So, anything special on your wishlist this year?”
Your best friend, Yangyang, asks you as you two sit next to each other on one of the many plush lounge couches in the Psychology building. It’s the usual lunch spot where you meet with him during your break between lectures.
The Psych building held much sentimental value for both of you because you met in Psych 101 during first year. Fast-forward three years later, neither of you expected to be the close friends that you are today.
Chewing your sandwich, you ponder on his question for a bit. Through the transparent glass walls leading to outside, you see the trickle of students heading towards the building since class is about to start for the noon round of lectures. A couple, you assume by the tight hand-holding and nose kissing, giggles as they enter the building, glued to one another by the hip.
“Not really.” You drop your head downward to your lunch container, smiling to yourself. “I’m honestly just happy to have Mark in my life, especially at this point in the year.”
Yangyang nods in accordance and smiles too, understanding the story behind your sentiment.
The boyfriends you’ve had since first year have always broken up with you before the holidays, right before the end of November. Since you only became close during second year, Yangyang’s been around for two out of three of your cursed holiday break-ups.
To have Mark, your latest boyfriend, be with you and it being already December tomorrow, it was truly a blessing for you and a silver lining that maybe this was the year to break the curse. Yangyang was grateful too, wanting you to have the utmost happiness.
You take another bite of your sandwich and tilt your chin toward the ramen eater.
“You?”
Yangyang slurps a few more noodles before he answers.
“I mean, the new Playstation would be nice,” he hums, mouth full.
Pointing the tip of your sandwich, you joke, “I’ll get it for you, but only if we share custody over it.”
“Mm-mm,” he shakes his head during a mid-slurp. “You know I can’t promise that.”
Both of you laugh in unison, living in the calm before the oncoming storm.
DECEMBER 5th
The E-Sports club for the university is hosting a party tonight and because Yangyang’s on one of the professional teams, he asked a few weeks ago if you and Mark wanted to attend. Of course you accepted; Mark also had some friends in the club.
However, when you text Yangyang in the afternoon, stating a change of mind, he knows something’s off.
Half an hour before the party starts, Yangyang decides to visit you. Thankfully you both lived on campus, but even if you lived across town, he’d still bus out to see how you were doing. He does it all the time to visit his family, anyway.
In the living room, the two sudden knocks at your door startle you. Peering through the peephole, you see the usual sight of your best friend, his lips curled upward and thumbs tucked in his pockets as he rocks on the balls of his feet.
It feels like an eternity for him when you unlock your door. The hinges squeal as you open it hesitatingly, your face barely appearing through the agape crack.
Immediately, his smile dissolves. Your face is drained and blood-shot eyes avoiding his own confront him.
Yangyang has only seen you cry twice in the three years he’s known you:
Once, when you were freaking the fuck out over potentially failing a course (but, on the upside, you ended up passing the final to save your grade).
The second time was at his house for a family dinner, when his mom accidentally added too much hot chili sauce to her homemade beef noodle soup (let’s just say you weren’t the only one crying that night).
Those were tears of dread and physical discomfort.
But this… this was crying he’s never seen from you before. His chest collapses inward, fearful of the reason behind your tears.
His voice shakes as he asks, “What happened? Are you okay?”
Neither of you are major huggers and only exchange them on the rare occasion.
However, this situation screams the necessity of it, so Yangyang lunges towards you, the collision swinging the door out of the way. His arms embrace you like a large, warm blanket. Comforting and safe.
Despite the affection, emptiness has taken over your body. Tonight, you’re a dead, empty shell of who you normally are.
You feel weak to the bone, but you muster up enough energy to scarcely raise your arms over his back to return the hug. Your eyes are dry from all the crying you’ve done all day, but apparently you have more tears left in you to spare.
Your eyelids snap shut and your jaw clenches.
“Mark broke up with me.”
Your words are muffled into his shoulder, but Yangyang hears it crystal clear.
You break down, sobbing out of control over the statement.
As aforementioned, Yangyang’s been around for your last two, now three, break-ups. Sure, he’s aware of how grumpy and distant you can get, but you never cried in front of him. You made an effort to never have him see you at your lowest point.
And yet, here you are, drowning him in your misery. Guilt washes over you for drenching his bomber jacket, but Yangyang couldn’t give two shits. His arms squeeze tighter while he rubs your back tenderly.
After several minutes pass and your waterworks abate, you peel away from him. You sniffle and rub your nose with the back of your hand.
“Sorry about cancelling last minute.”
“Hey, no need to apologize,” he whispers soothingly.
“I’m just… so fucking frustrated.”
With fatigued eyes, you drag yourself back inside your apartment. Yangyang discreetly closes the door behind him and hurriedly uses his feet to push off his shoes. As he does so, your mouth begins to run off while you slowly pace around aimlessly.
“Fucking done with boyfriends, especially when they think it’s so fucking awesome to keep breaking up with me right before the holidays.”
He kicks off his last stubborn shoe and catches you raking your hands through your hair, pulling it back firmly. Your lips are trembling, along with your entire frame.
“Like I get that I’m horrible and needy and emotional—”
His mouth opens, wanting to cut in to disagree with you with all his heart, but he clamps it back shut and swallows, allowing you to blow your steam off.
“—but can’t they wait until the fucking new year? I don’t know, or maybe just don’t date me in the first place! I don’t know, I don’t fucking know anymore. I’m just cursed, Yangyang...”
You flop down onto the couch and sink into the ocean of shiny pleather, shutting your eyes and trying to stop crying for the nth time. The deep sting behind your eyelids pain you, but it pains Yangyang more to watch the events unfolding ahead of him.
Unsure of what to say, Yangyang walks around the room. His gaze falls on your laptop screen and he frowns at the mostly bare Word document that stares back at him:
“WISHLIST: -KEEP ONE (1) FUCKING BOYFRIEND DURING THE CHRISTMAS SEASON!!!!!!!! GOD FUCKING SDKMFLDS”
There are a few more lines below it with more profanities and keyboard smashing. He quickly darts away, a pang of guilt striking for invading your privacy.
Then, he turns to you on the couch again. You’re now covering your eyes with your forearm, pressing your lips together. His chest twists and his throat is arid as a desert.
You’re in shambles and he’s dying to pick up the shattered pieces of you, wants to glue you back together. On a regular basis, Yangyang’s a talking machine and can talk your ear off for hours, but right now, he doesn’t know what to say to you in your current state. He second-guesses himself, wonders if he’s even that great of a friend if he can’t comfort you in your worst times.
Blowing out a long sigh and removing your arm, you speak aloud, “You should get going to the party.”
Like awakening from a deep slumber, you rise up sluggishly and sit up on the couch, slouched over. The other figure in the room steps closer to you.
“Sorry about your jacket, by the way,” you say. Your body is still, but your glazed eyes move to the dark spot on the middle of his shoulder. He glances at it and shrugs.
“It’s better like this anyway,” he says with a gentle smile, and the tight knot in his heart softens at the flicker of your own smile, albeit a small one. Unfortunately, it fades in a few seconds. “I don’t want to leave you like this, though.”
You stare at the used, crumpled balls of tissues scattered on the living room table. Some also ended up on the floor. Break-ups are shit and 98% inevitable, but you know you’ll eventually get over it. You always do.
“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”
He raises an eyebrow, as if asking, “Are you sure?” The lack of a worded reply causes you to notice the question written on his face.
“Go,” you plead with a feeble laugh. “Have fun for me.”
Both of you head towards your front door again. Crossing your arms, you lean your head against the door frame and attempt a smile for your best friend.
“Thanks again for checking up on me.”
Yangyang nods with a half-smile, half-pout, “Of course.”
You give him a departing wave prior to sealing your door.
Usually, Yangyang would bus from your place to the student union building, where the party is being held. Instead, he zippers up his jacket and stuffs his fists into his pockets, opting to bear the early winter chill to walk his thoughts off. His blazing self-doubt burns at first, but he overcomes it by focusing on ideas to fix your accursed dating rut instead.
Halfway through the walk, a light bulb moment occurs. A plan begins to brew on the surface of his mind and he thinks on it for the rest of the week.
DECEMBER 11th
It’s been almost a week since you last saw Yangyang.
Finals started already, so classes were done for the semester and thus, your lunch meet-ups halted too. On top of that, since you were simultaneously moping and studying, you hadn’t really texted him much, nor had he, besides the occasional check-up text on how studying was going and random memes. Yangyang knew you preferred time alone to heal and he respected that.
He also thought six days was enough time to get yourself back on your feet.
Yangyang’s at your front door once again, but this time with two bowls of his mom’s beef noodle soup in tow.
“Long time, no see,” you greet. Your tone is chipper, but your eyes look heavy, which could be partially from studying, Yangyang thinks. His smile deepens, content that you seem a lot better than the last time he visited.
“Delivery for two,” he raises the bag in his hand.
“And if I told you I already ate dinner?” you playfully retort.
The boyish man shrugs defeatedly, “Then I’ll tell my mom you hate her cooking—”
“You didn’t say it was your mom’s, Yangyang. Oh, my God,” you gasp, half-mockingly. You rush to grab the bags out of his hand and stroll towards your tiny kitchen. “Start off with that next time.”
As you remove the containers from the bag and onto the granite countertop, Yangyang shuts the door and takes his shoes off.
“So, I’m gonna be upfront and say that I may have come here with a proposal.”
“Changed your mind about the shared custody of the Playstation?”
“I’m still considering that one.” Finally in his socks, he slings his backpack off his shoulder and plops it onto the couch along with his jacket. He stands next to you by the counter. “But it’s on the same page as that. Remember that day we were talking about wishlists?”
“Mm-hmm,” you hum as you rip off the lid of one of the bowls. Blatant wisps fly upward and you inhale the savoury aroma, followed by a heavenly sigh.
“Last time I was here… I might’ve seen what you wrote on your laptop.”
Your expression immediately changes into full-on cringe. You bring a palm over to your face.
“Oh, God. Let’s not talk about that. That was just weepy, lonely me talking.”
Yangyang pops off the lid for his bowl and steps into your kitchen, rummaging through your drawers for chopsticks. “So you’re telling me you don’t want a boyfriend for Christmas?”
Your hand flies off your face. Eyes widening, you spew, “Do you have a boyfriend in your pocket, ready for me to have?”
In your open hand, he places a pair of chopsticks into it. “Well, actually, I was thinking—”
Sternly, you point the chopsticks at him. “Don’t you dare set me up with your friends.”
He counters and points his at you, “Even better than that.”
With your interest piqued, you slide yourself onto the counter stool and mix the noodles around, anticipating to hear Yangyang’s fantastic plan. Your friend sits on the other stool, facing you. He pauses for a second, taking a deep breath.
“Why don’t I be your boyfriend for the holidays?”
You freeze, and the noodles’ drips above your bowl are deafening to both individuals. Laughing awkwardly, you break your frozen state to drop your chopsticks and turn your head to look at him.
Sputtering, you say, “What?”
Unnerved, his mouth pinches to one side, thinking maybe he shouldn’t have even said anything in the first place. This was stupid, so stupid, but it’s out in the open and Yangyang already dug his grave—he may as well lay in it.
“Well, for one, it’s something on your wishlist that I can easily get,” he pauses mid-sentence, glancing upward in thought. “Well, really, fill? Is that a better way to put it?”
He continues, eyes back on you, “And two, I’m not setting you up with a stranger or someone you wouldn’t be comfortable with. I assume you know me well enough that you’re comfortable around me?”
Yangyang lifts an upturned palm and raises an eyebrow, waiting for a response to his assumption. Petulantly, you shake your head playfully and stick out your tongue at him.
Rubbing the back of his neck, his gaze drops down to the floor for his last point. His voice lowers.
“And, I don’t know, we’d just hang out like we usually do during that time, except we’d do more couple-y things.”
Realizing the implication of his words, he widens his eyes. “I mean, we'll do whatever you’re comfortable with, obviously. We don’t have to do any of the physical stuff—”
You burst into a giggle at his rambling and hold a hand out, cutting him off. “Okay, Yang. I get it.”
Yangyang watches your next moves carefully. You’re peering off to one side and picking at the tips of your fingers. After a minute that feels like forever, you nod slowly.
“I guess you have a point. We are sorta like a couple already.”
Your best friend sighs in relief, grinning that you’re not outright rejecting the idea.
“So,” you meet his eyes and bunch a shoulder up towards your ear. “We’ll just be a couple until what, New Year’s?”
“Yeah, sure,” he shrugs indifferently. “Whatever you want. It’s your Christmas wish.”
You chuckle and shake your head in disbelief that you two are actually making an agreement for Yangyang to be your temporary, holiday boyfriend.
Honestly, it’s a little crazy... but maybe it’s the perfect thing to get your mind off of Mark and the handful of holiday exes hanging above your head.
“Okay, since my last final is on the 21st, let’s start ‘dating’ then and we’ll play everything by ear, see how it goes.”
Yangyang bobs his head eagerly. “Sounds good, soon-to-be girlfriend.”
He sticks a hand out for you to shake. You take it firmly, sealing the deal and flashing him a grin.
“Soon-to-be boyfriend.”
Although the night goes on like usual between the two of you, you couldn’t deny how ecstatic you are to finally have a boyfriend during the holidays, even if it was technically your best friend as a stand-in.
DECEMBER 21st
Tonight’s your first date with Yangyang.
That sounds weird to say, you admit to yourself, but it’s the truth.
After you stroll out of your last final of the semester, Yangyang’s waiting for you inside near the main exit of the building with several layers on, including his hoodie over his head and a knitted scarf underneath. His attention leaves his phone and he stuffs it into pocket as he notices you heading over.
“Hey, girlfriend,” he welcomes you, beaming.
You snicker at the unfamiliar label. You wonder if you’re going to get used to this, even if it’s only for two weeks.
“Hey, boyfriend,” you grin harder as the word falls from your lips, trying your best not to outright burst into laughter. “Where we heading off to?”
Although you said both of you could play the dating by ear, Yangyang’s been keen on scheduling plans for the upcoming days. You told him he didn’t have to, however, he insisted by saying that he wouldn’t only be a horrible boyfriend, but a horrible friend if he couldn’t make the next weeks fun for you.
Yangyang was anything but a horrible friend, and the fact that he was willing to be your holiday boyfriend to make you happy proved it further. Nevertheless, you gladly let him take the reins.
“I was thinking the movies tonight? See the latest Marvel film?”
Concurring to the idea, you scurry towards the bus stop and are movie-theatre bound to the nearest one off-campus. Arriving at the theatre, Yangyang and you buy your tickets and a popcorn to share, then head into the respective auditorium where the movie is playing. Since the movie’s been running for a couple of weeks, the auditorium is fairly empty, giving you two the chance to snag perfect middle seats with nobody else is in the row.
Up to this point, aside from the name-dropping of boyfriend and girlfriend, this feels less like a date and more like any other hang-out with him. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing awkward.
But that changes during a third of the movie.
You’re both so immersed by the screen that neither party notices the other’s hand when both of you reach for the popcorn in Yangyang’s lap at the same time.
A jolt runs through as your hands brush together. The duo’s eyes tear away from the screen and flit to the action happening in real-time. The touch lingers for several moments.
“Sorry,” you quickly mumble, drawing your hand back slightly, but still hovering over the popcorn.
“Uhm,” Yangyang licks his lips and visibly gulps under the screen’s bright glare.
He whispers, his voice almost cracking, “As your boyfriend, can I hold your hand?”
Okay, this is just your best friend, acting as your temporary boyfriend, asking to hold your hand. No big deal, no big deal at all.
Yet, the thunderous knocking in your ears, louder than the explosions blasting through the theatre’s speakers, suggests otherwise.
You don’t even register it, but you’re already nodding in response. Your breathing slows to the rate of Yangyang’s hand inching over. At the anticipated contact, you gasp softly. His smooth fingers clasp over yours. Since the arm rest in the middle of you is positioned upward, there’s no obtrusion and you relax, letting your hands mingle in between the empty space.
Without looking at one another, both of you smile bashfully to yourselves as you try to continue to focus on the screen.
After a while, because you aren’t exactly holding hands, you spread your fingers, hastily doing so because you don’t want him to think you’re breaking the interaction, and twist your palm to properly interlock hands with him. You give Yangyang’s hand a warm, gentle squeeze. He does the same and even strokes his thumb against your skin.
Talk about playing everything by ear. Who knew you’d be hand in hand on the first date?
You attempt to not think much on it, but Yangyang’s hand in yours feels... so right, like your hand was made for this, for his to hold. Like you should’ve done this way sooner.
And if Yangyang’s thoughts could be heard, he’s thinking the same.
Despite the mutual fear of sweaty palms, neither of you desire to let go, so much that you not only hold hands during the rest of the movie, but throughout the bus ride back to campus and all the way until he escorts you to your front door.
With a certain charge in the atmosphere, you exchange sweet good-byes. That night, after the culmination of stress from finals and your worries of your holiday exes, you finally have a peaceful sleep, looking forward to your date with Yangyang tomorrow.
DECEMBER 22nd
“Babe, how do I look?”
“Very pretty, honey.” A bundled up Yangyang winks at you from behind his phone.
The second date is an evening at a Christmas light festival at a botanical garden on the outskirts of town. The lights illuminate so strongly; there was a glowing dome-like hue over the location that seemed to reach the dark sky as you got off the bus.
When stepping foot into the garden, all the encompassing lights mesmerize you. Lights on the various greenery, lights as decorative art pieces, lights lining the pathways. Different shades of colours and shapes engulf the massive area.
Yangyang’s currently in the middle of taking your photo near an arch tangled with dark blue, gold, and white bulbs. All night long, you’ve been mockingly using endearing terms, but, despite the frigid air, your cheeks heat up over something else he just said.
“You think I’m pretty?” you genuinely ask, breaking your pose.
He lowers his phone a bit, his jaw dangling.
“Uh, I mean,” he giggles awkwardly, nodding softly. “Yeah.”
Yangyang never told you, but he initially sat near you in Psych 101 because he thought you were the most stunning girl in the class. And sure, he was a little disappointed at the time to find out you had a boyfriend, but that didn’t mean you two couldn’t still be friends. Other than the first few weeks he had a crush on you, he’s never thought of you as more than a friend.
But those feelings are resurfacing, hitting him in the chest like a bag of bricks, due to moments like this one—you’re batting your eyelids, gaze straying elsewhere, and adorably chewing on your lower lip.
“And you’re not just saying that as my holiday boyfriend?”
Pouting to one side, he shakes his head cutely. “Mm-mm.”
On the flipside, the beginning with Yangyang for you was strictly platonic. You were dating Haechan at the time you met him. When Haechan broke up with you later that fall, you kept a distance from dating for a while, heartbroken from the high school love gone sour. During that period, you never told him, but you did run through the possibility of dating Yangyang since you got along so well... until you met Jaemin earlier the next semester, who stole your heart. Ever since then, you’ve never seen Yangyang under that light again.
Despite that, you can’t deny how attractive he is, and now that you’re single and technically dating him, you embrace the fact with open arms.
Beaming as bright as the lights, you tug him by the end of his puffer jacket’s sleeve to bring him closer to you.
“C’mon, handsome, let’s take some pictures together.” Prickles rise under Yangyang’s cheeks from the off-hand compliment.
Holding your phone up in the air at about an arm’s length away, the side of your heads touch to prepare for a few selfies. When you finish capturing them, Yangyang’s hovering over your shoulder as you scroll through to glance through the photos.
“We look good together,” you comment. “Don’t you think?”
In sync, your heads turn to meet each other. Your eyes waver from the blatant clouds of your breaths and over to his lips. The clouds become rapid bursts as you begin to lean forward. So does Yangyang.
“Do you guys want a picture together?” someone suddenly asks. The abrupt voice drags you both apart instantly, crushing the moment into pieces.
“Sure,” you peep, fumbling to hand your phone over to the stranger.
Posing, Yangyang’s hand rests around the middle of your back, which is the norm when you take pictures with him, but he pulls you in snugly. You smile even wider, relishing in the new-level of intimacy and allow yourself to be truly content among his presence.
“You guys are such a cute couple,” the stranger gushes while they return your phone prior to walking away.
“I guess we are, huh, babe?” you jut your tongue out in jest at him. This time, you indulge in the endearing term without a sliver of mockery.
Yangyang copies you, jutting his tongue out further than yours, and seizes your hand to continue the tour around the gleaming garden.
The almost-kiss isn’t mentioned for the rest of the night, nor is it acted upon, but both individuals dwell on the near occurrence before sleep that evening, staring longingly at their bedroom ceiling.
DECEMBER 23rd
For the third date, you find yourselves at the campus’ dedicated ice rink arena to partake in ice skating.
You’ve skated a few times in the past, but you’re by no means a pro. On the other hand, this is apparently Yangyang’s first time, and he’s already skating circles around you.
“Show off,” you grumble as he does another lap past you. Your gloved hands are splayed out in front of you, careful not to fall flat on your face.
Turning on his blades, he rebounds over to you.
“Sorry,” he pants. His raised cheeks glow an adorable shade of pink. “This is really fun when you get the hang of it.”
Yangyang intertwines his fingers with yours before you can say anything. “C’mon, take my hand.”
At first, it was sweet to skate alongside your holiday boyfriend, notwithstanding the few times you almost trip. As the minutes pass, you think you’re getting the hang of it, but suddenly, Yangyang unleashes your hand and glides ahead of you, abandoning you to slide at a swift pace that is definitely out of your comfort zone.
“Yangyang, what the fuck?!” you screech, completely disregarding the handful of surrounding parents with their kids, the former sending daggers your direction. Your ankles struggle to make a T-shape to stop, but the struggling only somehow makes you move faster.
As he spins to face you, now skating backwards with ease, he says, “See, you got the hang of it-oomph—”
Air’s struck from his lungs when you crash into his body. Thankfully, Yangyang skids his blades harshly against the ice and is able to steady and support you within his arms.
“You little fucker,” you gripe, lightly punching him in the arm.
He chuckles blithely, “Sorry, but it was kinda funny, you gotta admit.”
You breathe a large huff, which makes you note how your hair is falling over your face after the catastrophe. You’re about to lift your hand to rearrange the strands, but Yangyang beats you to it and is in the midst of tucking them behind your ear.
The knocking in your ears reappears with a vengeance and the physical source of the knocking is thrashing violently against your chest.
Your scorching breaths fuse in the refrigerated rink as Yangyang eliminates the inches of space between, his plush mouth ultimately converging with yours.
You have to constantly remind yourself to breathe under Yangyang’s intensity, and remind yourself that you’re in a public space and shouldn’t be making out like this.
But everyone’s skating around the couple, daring to not disrupt the affectionate display.
God, you don’t know when was the last time you’ve been kissed like this. Have you ever even experienced a kiss that was a fraction of this? Yangyang daintily cups your cheeks like you’re glass, but his lips press ruggedly into yours, inflaming your entirety and melting any existence of your figurative fragility.
You ignore the echo in the back of your mind that reminds you he’s your temporary boyfriend.
The Talk will inevitably occur, but your future self could deal with it. Presently, you’re too caught up, drowning in Yangyang’s embrace.
DECEMBER 24th
On Christmas Eve, Yangyang decides to bring you to an outdoor Christmas market.
Understandably, since it’s the day before Christmas, the place is absolutely packed. For the first fifteen minutes or so, it’s joyous being immersed in the Christmas spirit with the assorted little shops and their respective products. You’re holding Yangyang’s hand tightly, pointing and half-shouting over the bustle about the items that catch your eye.
Unfortunately, someone accidentally bumps against your arms and your hand is gone from his.
Swivelling your head, searching through the crowd, it occurs to you that you officially lost Yangyang.
Your feet come to a halt as your hand attempts to dig into your jacket pocket to pluck your phone out, but the moving crowd forces you to constantly follow the stream.
You yell for him, but words can’t materialize. Your windpipe tightens. Your breath is becoming shallower and shallower. Blood pulses in your ears alarmingly, blocking out the clamour from around you. Your mind’s running everywhere without control.
Where is your boyfriend?
No, scratch that, he’s not your actual boyfriend—where is your best friend?
Did he leave you? He would never.
Right?
But what happens when all of this is over? Will you still have your best friend?
You’ve avoided The Talk long enough, but you didn’t expect to catch feelings for him. Not like this.
Maybe you’re just destined to be alone.
Is this how it feels to actually lose him?
Tears fight your vision. You hear a faint call of your name, but you can’t urge yourself to turn around, sinking only further into the sea of anonymity. You’re just a face in a crowd, all alone, with no one who cares—
Yangyang grasps you by the arm and maneuvers you aside to a less busy area behind one of the vendor stands.
“Oh, God, thought I lost you there—”
You cut him off, hugging him with all your might and stuff your face in his chest cushioned by the downy layers of his winter jacket. Yangyang immediately drapes his arms securely around you, reading your uneasiness.
“Hey, I got you. I got you,” he soothes, running a hand through your hair. “God, not my best idea. Sorry for bringing you here.”
You shake your head, wordlessly informing him that it’s okay. You’re just glad to be with him again.
“Wanna go home?”
You nod solemnly, and Yangyang zips you out of there in minutes with his arm tucked by your side, ensuring he doesn’t lose you in the crowd again.
Fortunately, the jitters mostly disappear when you arrive at your place in the late afternoon. You’re in the middle of rummaging through your keys to unlock your door.
“Sorry I didn’t have anything else planned for today,” he mumbles, leaning with folded arms against the wall.
“Did you...” You insert the correct key and turn the lock, clicking the door open. Your gaze lifts to match his. “Did you wanna maybe have dinner with me tonight? I was thinking of ordering pizza in.”
The grin that reaches his eyes is a sufficient answer for you.
“Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” He hangs his arm around your shoulder and plants a kiss atop your head.
After chomping down pizza and playing a few rounds of Super Smash Bros. on Yangyang’s Switch, you peer over to him on your living room couch while he’s figuring out which character he should play next.
The little mental voice in the back of your mind prods you, reminding that you should really, really have The Talk soon. The Talk that you swept under the rug at the start by saying you’d play everything by ear.
Four dates later, and the thought of this ending scares the living daylights out of you. This not only including the interim relationship, but the dire possibility of the friendship itself too. Is it possible to go back to how you were, flipping it off like a light switch?
But the internal voice is smothered as you’re drawn to his pouting lips in thought. His pouting, oh-so kissable lips. Following the ice skating kiss yesterday, you only shared a good-bye kiss when he dropped you off. Since then, you’ve been itching to have his lips on yours again.
Yangyang eventually detects your lack of focus and finds you gawking at his mouth. Your gaze dashes to his eyes, blinking innocently, but then his eyes flicker to your mouth.
The tension in the room snaps. You two carefully throw the Switch controllers off to one side and attach yourselves together. Unlike the crashing of your bodies at the ice rink, this one is purposeful. Deliberated, as his forehead presses into yours and his tender caress carries your cheek. Your body plummets backwards until Yangyang pins you completely into the couch.
Initially, the lip-locking is gentle and mild. Your fingers lay in the vicinity of his angular visage and sturdy upper frame, in contrast to his hand curling around your waist in a light squeeze.
Soon, hands traverse to other regions—his back, your thigh, his stomach, your ass. Each touch seeking, craving, whining. Tongues slinking and dancing with appetite. Your bodies buzz for more.
Open-mouthed kisses transition from the damp lips to each other’s necks. The touches dig deeper, thriving with hunger. Your back bows, body curving into his. Grinding ensues and his robust desire is blatant against your own pulsing passion.
“You don’t happen to have any condoms on you, do you?” you groan upwards to the ceiling.
He retracts from your neck to swing his head side to side, grumbling a “Sorry, we can stop...” yet you interrupt his apology by cupping his covered length. The guttural groan he exhales into your lips makes you shiver with pleasure.
“Doesn’t mean we still can’t have fun with our hands...” you say slyly.
“Fuck yeah,” he rasps, smirking, before diving in again to taste your mouth.
Clothes are stripped with the assistance of each other, leaving you with only your bra on while Yangyang opts to be completely bare. He tops your body in the same position once more.
On the couch arm rest, your head is perched with his hand clutching the space next to it for leverage. Both figures are too scatter-brained to delve into the exquisite nudity of one another, hands flying desperately to your respective arousals.
Your pretty fingers wrap around his possession almost exactly when he dips two digits into your warmth. In unison, two sharp, quiet gasps pierce the room.
“Shit, you’re so wet,” he hisses observantly. You’re so overwhelmed by the bliss that you can’t assemble any sort of response.
Your mouth’s parted to one side, chest soaring with each plunge. Through his clouded vision, he ambles over your curves and lines and yearns to see your breasts, but he respects your choice of keeping it on and opts to ambush the expanse with kisses. Your chest is launched further into his mouth and Yangyang assumes you’re enjoying this.
Fearing friction burn, you drop him from your grip momentarily, swiping a few licks over your palm. When your hand pumps him again, now drenched with saliva, grunts reverberate against your skin.
“Yangyang?” you whimper, causing his face to pull away from the temple of your body.
“Yeah, baby?”
“I’m-I’m close.” And he can attest to it; the contractions around him are increasing, harshly squeezing his fingers.
“Same,” he pants.
Your best friend flicks his wrist with ignition, securing your waves of elation. You attempt to do the same, but it’s difficult when he’s also sloppily thrusting himself into your fist, so you simply clench your grasp harder. His features pinch and choppy moans dribble as he yields to his climax, gushing himself over your stomach.
Still sucking in lungfuls of air, Yangyang kisses you tenderly before removing himself to clean up the mess he made.
Following the clean-up, while putting on your clothes, Yangyang expresses how he should get going since it’s getting late.
“Did you wanna stay the night?” you pipe up.
His mind races, debating on whether to leave or not, anxious to blur the lines of your relationship even further.
Sure, he’s your temporary boyfriend, thus staying over at your place shouldn’t mean anything. But this agreement is ending next week, and he’s questioning if you two can stay just friends after this, knowing that he’s going to want more. Yangyang has had a taste of the what if, and it’s now irrevocable.
He wants you all for himself. Selfishly, but deeply.
For the sake of keeping this a great thing for you, he shoves his thoughts aside. This is all about you and for your benefit, anyhow.
“Uh, sure, I can take the couch like I always—”
“Yangyang, you just put your fingers inside of me,” you snicker, snagging him by the hand to your bedroom. “C’mon.”
The rest of the night is relatively chaste with some kisses and touches here and there. Eventually, you fall asleep facing each other with your fingers interlocked, excited for the big day tomorrow.
DECEMBER 25th
Normally on Christmas, Yangyang and you spend it with your respective families, but coincidentally, both of your families, your parents being retired and all, ended up vacationing this year, leaving the two of you to spend it with each other.
After getting up around noon, Yangyang heads to his place to grab his gift. He takes longer than you expected because, as it turns out, he also went home to grab baking goods he bought beforehand since he wants to make butter cookies with you today.
The cookies end up fine, but the mess is another story. Besides the chaos on the counter, your faces and aprons are splotched with flour (you swear he started it, but he disagrees and stands his ground that you’re the perpetrator). With a damp cloth, Yangyang aids you to clean, but not forgetting to wipe your face and giving you pecks over your cheeks and nose.
The baking and aftermath occupies most of the afternoon, so dinner comes in the form of fancy, romantic instant ramen for two. Afterwards, you two sit in your living room and start to exchange gifts.
Yangyang hands his over to you first. From the size of the gift and the crumpled, oddly-shaped wrapping, you already can guess it’s a stuffed plushie of a cute animal to add to your never ending collection. You hug it tightly with a large smile.
“It’s so cute, thank you!” you squeal, but you change your expression in an instant to a serious pout. “But you can’t steal this one like you did with my Ice Bear plushie.”
“Hey, I didn’t steal Ice Bear, I just forgot to give him back.” You roll your eyes sarcastically and he laughs. “I’ll bring him over tomorrow, if it makes you feel better.”
Then, when it’s your turn, you head into your bedroom and come out with a large, white shopping bag. His eyebrows raise, unsure of what could warrant a gift this size.
“For being my holiday boyfriend,” you grin, placing the bag in front of his feet.
Despite the hugest smile on your face, his heart sinks at the label for a second, but he blinks and wills himself to look inside the bag.
His eyes shoot open, so much that you’re scared you might have to stuff them back into his sockets.
Yangyang slips the box out of the bag with precision and stares at it speechlessly.
It’s the new Playstation.
He shifts his eyes toward you. You’re swaying on the couch, pleased by his reaction.
“Your parents paid for most of it, so I can’t take all the credit.” Sticking a finger in the air, you add, “You just gotta promise to share custody with me though—”
A hand behind your head yanks you into a deep kiss. He’s not the only one left speechless on the couch. He places the top of his head against yours.
“You’re crazy, but I love—” He quickly catches himself from saying something he might regret. “—I love it so much, thank you. Now I feel bad for getting you only the stuffed animal...”
You shake your head softly, brushing your thumb against his cheekbone.
“Thank you for everything.” Your eyes twinkle. “I couldn’t have asked to spend the holidays with anyone else.”
Carefully, like a newborn baby, he safely situates the boxed Playstation to one side and nabs your lips with his again. The scene feels like repeat of last night as your bodies wrestle passionately on the couch.
“Not to be presumptuous,” he mutters between the kisses upon your neck. Your eyelids flutter at the sensation. “But I also grabbed condoms from my place when I stopped by.”
His words sends the two of you leaping towards your bedroom. Under the dim lighting, you fall into the bed as Yangyang pares your layers off, one by one. With each peel, his lips roam the revealing bare skin. You swear he has kissed you from your literal head to toe when you’re fully nude in front of him.
Your companion drags his shirt over his head, throws it off to your floor, and immediately targets in onto your nub with his mouth, finally satiating his craving from last night.
Fingers thread into his hair and over his flexed back. His tongue swirls and his teeth lightly tug on your perkiness, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. And he still isn’t even inside you yet.
After leaving love upon your other bosom, Yangyang fumbles with the condom, forgetting which way it should go on. Giggling, you perch yourself onto your elbows and assist him. Rolling it over his possession, you recline yourself back and spread your legs for him.
Pensively, he sticks his tongue out as he adjusts himself between your sex, easing himself into you, and upon the full impact, you meet his gaze head-on. His stare makes you feel vulnerable and exposed beyond the physical plane.
But, unlike the others you have been with, you trust him with everything, like you always have, and be free with him. Losing your inhibitions and submitting to your whims, you entangle and become one with Yangyang.
Behind his hazy vision, Yangyang’s simply thinking how beautiful you are, how he can’t imagine anyone else under his touch but you, how he is willing to give up anything to make you smile.
Well, in this case, he’s willing to give up anything to make you pleased.
However, it doesn’t seem like he needs to do much because you’re howling his name and clinging onto his skin and the sheets in a frenzy, like you’re about to die of exhaustion.
You perish a few times under him before he finally reaches his little death himself, convulsing into the sheath.
When air’s replenished into your bodies, you rest on his chest under your blanket. Glancing up at him, you move some of his tousled hair off his sleek forehead.
“Merry Christmas, Yangyang,” you whisper, snuggling him with a satisfied smile.
“Merry Christmas, babe,” he whispers back, giving you one last peck before you both drift into a deep slumber together.
DECEMBER 26th
Last night took so much out of the both of you, you don’t get out of bed until about the middle of the afternoon. Yangyang doesn’t have anything planned for today since it’s Boxing Day, since the crowds might be crazy wherever you go, so it’s officially a chill, rest day for you both.
When you step out of the shower in fresh clothes, from behind the couch, you watch Yangyang gaming on his Switch.
The little voice in your head looms, prompting that now is the time to have The Talk, and speaks up on your behalf.
“Do we have to end things next week?” you croak.
You see Yangyang’s shoulders stiffen, then he pauses the game and turns around to face you. His gaze follows you as you step closer to the couch, opting to stand.
“Uhm.” His Adam’s apple bobs and he shrugs. “It’s up to you, it’s your—”
“Yangyang, that’s not what I’m asking. I’m asking what you think, how do you feel?”
His lips press together and he’s staring at the floor. You can tell the gears are moving, but you can’t read his expression clearly.
“I’m down for whatever you want to do,” he says slowly, eyes still averting yours.
That’s a I’m-your-best-friend answer, you deduce. Not a I-want-to-be-your-actual-boyfriend answer.
He adds, stuttering, “I mean, I wouldn’t mind doing this a little longer if that’s what you want—”
Your face scrunches in annoyance. “Did you just sign up to be my short-term boyfriend so you can fill my empty heart?”
His eyebrows crease with confusion. “I mean, I never want to see you unhappy.”
“So it’s pity dating then?” you lash, raising your voice.
“No, I—” Yangyang bites down on his tongue, almost letting the one word slip out again. He blows out a lengthy sigh and runs a hand through his hair. “I care about you, so much. I’d do anything to make you happy.”
You’re defining his words as an affirmation of friendship and as an underlying rejection of your love.
You need to know for certain.
“Do you love me, Yangyang?” you blurt. “As more than a friend?”
This is it, Yangyang thinks. This is your chance to let her know how you feel.
But the distress written on your face makes him wonder if he should even go through with it, and it’s intensifying with every passing moment that he’s not speaking.
If only he knew your distress was deepening because you took his hesitance as absolute rejection.
Your heart is breaking because of him, and he technically wasn’t even yours to begin with.
You smack your lips together and gulp a few times, trying to make the huge knot in your throat disappear.
“You know what, maybe let’s just forget this arrangement and leave it all behind and forget about the sex and—”
“You wanna stop this?” he utters quietly.
The word “this” hangs heavy in the air. This, carrying the weight of not only being the temporary agreement, but also your friendship.
“Yeah,” you whisper, tears beginning to blur your eyes. “I think I do.”
DECEMBER 28th
Two days have passed since you last saw Yangyang.
That day before he left, Yangyang, feeling guilty for how events unfolded, wanted to give back the Playstation, but you insisted for him to keep it. In spite of everything, it was a Christmas gift to him from you and his parents.
But both of you weren’t sure if the shared custody promise was going to be held up.
In hopes that things would eventually get better and heal itself, Yangyang thought it’d be best to leave you alone for a while, like how he usually did.
And maybe he was right to do so, but this time is different.
Because he’s on the other end of the stick now; he’s the one who broke your heart.
Under regular circumstances, whenever you needed space, he was always ready to be there by your side.
But Yangyang’s uncertain if you’re going to let him comfort you this time.
And you’re uncertain if you even want him to.
DECEMBER 30th
Today, Yangyang finally makes the move to get in touch with you, texting you to call him, but you don’t, so he leaves a voicemail later in the evening.
“There’s a New Year’s party I’m going to tomorrow,” he starts off, then spews the specific details.
There’s a pause and you hear shuffling in the background. You assume he’s pacing around.
“I know you ended our agreement, but I wouldn’t mind fulfilling my end since New Year’s is the last day tomorrow. I’d be really glad if you came to the party with me, whether it be as my friend or my girlfriend.”
Another pause.
On the other end, Yangyang rubs his palm over his face, considering whether or not he should say it. If you picked up the phone call, he was going to do it anyway, but this just felt improper. He wants to say it when he knows you’re listening in real-time, so he ends off the message with:
“I miss you. So much.”
DECEMBER 31st
It’s 8:40PM. Before Yangyang buses out to the party, he’s back at your front door for one more shot. His fist taps at your door, cognizant that you wouldn’t be elsewhere since your other friends are out of town for the holidays. Despite that, you don’t come to the door. Nevertheless, he speaks to you through the wooden barrier.
“Hey, I know you want to be left alone, but I just wanted to see if you changed your mind about the party.”
Still no answer. He lets out a sigh and prays the following will incite a reaction from you.
“About the question that you asked me that night...”
He closes his eyes and allows his mouth to carry him.
“I do. I do love you. As both my best friend and more. I’m sorry if I hurt you that night by not saying anything, but I love you so much and I think we should give us a shot.”
Still no answer. Yangyang continues.
“Look, I know it’s scary and crazy to date your best friend. I’m scared too, but you know what? I’m okay with being scared. I’ve watched you gone through those assholes over the last few years and maybe you’re scared I’ll end up like one of them, but unlike them, I don’t think you’re horrible or needy or emotional—you’re beautiful, intelligent, and strong for putting up with all those fuckers.”
He leans his forehead gently against the door.
“And even if we ever do break up, and this is a big if because I’ll always try my hardest with you to make it work, I’ll still be your friend. I promise. You won’t lose me ‘cause I need you in my life. I gotta keep my end up for the custody of the Playstation, right?”
A smile breaks over his face from his joke, but still. Radio silence.
“Can you at least say something?” he begs.
After a few minutes, realizing he needs to probably give you more time to be left alone, he departs and heads to the party.
Originally, you actually were planning on attending the party to see Yangyang to make-up with him.
Unfortunately, out of all the days you had to take a late afternoon nap, it had to be today.
And you overslept. Big time.
At 10:55PM, you scramble awake, realizing you’re absolutely late to the event. Since the party’s downtown, you know calling an Uber or Lyft there would be fast, but tonight’s the worst night for any share riding service and there aren’t any available drivers. Thus, you have to manage with busing there.
It’s 11:40PM when you finally reach downtown, but the bus can’t take you all the way to the core centre where the party is; hordes of people are out on the streets and traffic is dreadful. God, you’re going to be cutting it close to midnight, but you make a run for it.
You’re grateful the party is on the second floor of a small building because you slide in right through the entrance at 11:58PM. You rush to call Yangyang’s phone, hoping he’ll pick up as you try to find him in the scattered groups of people.
You begin to holler for him in hopes he can hear you, but the countdown is happening, drowning out your voice. Thirty seconds left until the clock strikes for the new year.
When his number finally goes to voicemail, you redial his number. Suddenly, a hand grasps you by the wrist.
Yangyang looks at you, dumbfounded.
“When did you get here?”
The harmonious chanting around you floods your surroundings.
“Ten, nine, eight...”
Getting closer to him, you practically scream into Yangyang’s face, trusting he’ll hear what you’re about to say.
“I know Christmas is over, but I want to change my wish.”
“Seven, six, five...”
“I know you might not feel the same and I know things might not work out.”
“Four, three, two...”
”But I wish to date you past New Year’s until whenever, however long we last.”
“One...”
“I love you, Yangyang—”
The one you love snatches you by the waist and your cheek, stealing your lips at the last millisecond before midnight.
“Happy New Year!”
A wave of noisemakers, clappers, and hollering erupt around the room. After it dies down a bit, Yangyang shocks you with a scolding.
“Why didn’t you say anything when I came over?!”
Confusion rushes over you. You realize he probably came by when you were sleeping.
“You came over?!”
“Yeah, I confessed my love for you.”
“Wait,” you blink blankly, unsure if you heard him correctly. “Your love?”
“Yeah,” he nods, giving you his cheesy, adorable smile. “I love you.”
“As more than a friend?” you clarify.
“Babe,” Yangyang’s thumb caresses your cheek. “I don’t think I could ever go back to wanting less with you.”
Your lips tremble with relief as your gaze melts in his.
“And, anyway, who else am I going to share the Playstation with?”
“Well, I mean, you do have Hendery, Xiaojun, Winwin...” you start to count his infinite list of friends on your fingers.
“Yeah, but I need you so I can constantly beat your cute little butt at games.”
“You do not constantly beat my cute little butt at games, I’ll have you know that I beat you at—”
Yangyang shuts you up with another kiss, the one of many for the rest of the night.
JANUARY 2nd
It’s your second morning at Yangyang’s place. You’ve only done it a few times now, but you realize that waking up in his arms is one of the greatest feelings in the world, second only to his kisses.
In his bed, spooning you from behind, he grumbles into the nape of your neck, “Morning, girlfriend.”
Half-awake, you mumble back, “Morning, boyfriend,” and sink deeper into the curve of his body.
Content, you finally broke your string of cursed holiday break-ups for good.
And all it took was to be with the one who was in front of you all this time.
#yangyang#yangyang smut#yangyang fluff#yangyang angst#yangyang x reader#yangyang imagines#yangyang scenarios#yangyang fanfic#nct#nct smut#nct fluff#nct angst#nct scenarios#nct imagines#nct fanfic#nctcreations#wayv angst#wayv smut#wayv fluff#wayv
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Well, I want in.
13 & 18 my darling Dani. With the prettiest of pleases. And I don’t even care who you do (yes even prongfoot or snirius but the cringe is great and mountainous)
okay so since i am……a complete dyslexic dumbass…..i somehow misread the prompt numbers by one? and i am only now realising these are actually 12 and 17 instead of 13 and 18? but i already wrote it so you will have to accept them (youre welcome to send me another one as an apology tho (like, as me apologising to you - you do not owe me an apology))
(also no great mountainous cringe for you today, i did wolfstar feat. jegulus for you. this is a 2-in-1 package deal) (also i wrote half of that to the song you sent me and the other half to MSI)
12. Do they have many heated arguments? How do they smooth things over? + 17. Who's more likely to pull the other in by the waist and kiss them passionately?
Send me an OTP question from the list and a ship and I’ll respond with a drabble.
-
James glances around the dark backyard, its emptiness amplified even further by the thick layers of white snow covering everything around them. It’s criminally cold outside, to the point that even the usual warming charms they use on the go do not work anymore to chase away this kind of frost.
“I’m telling you, Reg, it’s a bad idea.” He says and brings up his hands to rub them together, breathing out a cloud of warm air onto his frozen palms. “Sirius doesn’t just cancel plans last-minute like this, something must have happened.” The warm breath out of his mouth rises up to his glasses, clouding his vision with hot steam.
“I don’t care, James, they promised us dinner.” Regulus reaches out to take off his glasses, wipes them on the hem of his robes, and runs a quick spell on the glass of the spectacles before gently sliding them back up his nose. “And Sirius’ ideas are bad all the time anyway, I’m allowed to have one bad idea every once in a while.” He turns back to the door and knocks with the bottom of his fist, much more loudly and forcefully than last time. “Open up, we’re freezing out here, you animals!”
There is finally a sign of life from inside, voices and a sound of feet shuffling downstairs before the door is thrown open and Sirius appears in the doorway. Besides a black jumper and jeans, he is wearing a deep frown on his face, glaring down at them like they are a chorus of children asking for donations on Christmas for the seventh time in one evening. He looks mostly tired.
“Hello,” Regulus tilts his head to the side and gives his brother a wide smile. “Next time you keep me out in the cold like this, I’m blowing the door out.” He pushes underneath Sirius’ arm, which is blocking the passage with the way it’s rested against the other side of the wall, and unceremoniously makes his way inside.
Sirius watches him as he does, but does not say anything. Once Regulus is inside, he turns to James.
“Prongs,” He raises a hand to run it through his hair. “don’t take this the wrong way, but why are you here?”
James offers him a sheepish smile. “Reg said that if you ask me that, I get to blame everything on him.” He steps forward to pull Sirius into a hug before getting inside. He can feel the tension in his shoulders when he does, although Sirius does return the embrace and steps aside to let him in.
“Reg, I understand that you are a big, pretentious douchebag with no concept of personal space,” he grumbles as they both make their way over to the kitchen of their house, where Regulus has already dropped off his snow-covered coat and is now busy rummaging through the cabinets, “and I respect that, but this is a really bad time.”
“You are about to have a really bad time if I don’t eat.” Regulus yells back from the kitchen.
The commotion draws attention from upstairs and Remus comes down to join them, hair a little dishevelled and the same frown in place that is still present on Sirius’ face as well. “James?” He asks, a little puzzled, just before his eyes wander over to Regulus.
James grins at him and raises his hand in greeting. “Our portkey point was around here, so we thought we would stop by before we head home.” He explains apologetically. “We can go if we’re interrupting, it’s not--”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Regulus cuts him off as he pulls out a half empty box of cereal from one of the cabinets, grimacing in disgust at the packaging before shoving it back inside, “we are staying, they owe us a dinner.”
Remus turns to face Sirius and his eyebrow raises in a silent statement. He nods his head in Regulus’ direction subtly, and Sirius grunts loudly, leaning back against the counter behind him.
“What do you want me to do?” He asks in irritation. “They’re already here.”
“This is exactly what we talked about.” Remus says impatiently. “You have no boundaries.”
“I told them not to come today, they just showed up!” Exclaims Sirius in return, throwing his arm up in the air as he gestures at James next to him.
“Because you allow it!”
“What was I supposed to do, leave them outside?”
“Yes!”
“No!”
James uses the opportunity to slide away from between them while he remains unnoticed and joins Regulus, who is now crouched down by the freezer, studying the contents of it with a careful concentration on his face.
He pulls out a long plate with a row of frozen lamb ribs in it. “How about some ribs on the grill?” He drops the plate on top of the counter and goes for the fridge next. “With some..” he pauses, eyes scanning the insides of the appliance methodically, “mashed potatoes and asparagus. Merlin, these two really need help with their shopping, there aren’t even any mushrooms in here.”
“My friends don’t show up here unannounced whenever they feel like it.” Remus goes on, the accusation in his tone growing as they keep arguing.
“Sounds like a plan.” James agrees. He snaps his fingers at the utensils drawer to float the necessary tools out of it while Regulus performs a thawing charm on the frozen ribs. “I’ll start on the potatoes and the salads.”
“Your friends? What friends do you even have, Remus? We have the same friends, James is your friend as much as he’s mine--”
“Oh, come on, now you’re just being a cunt.”
Regulus gives them both a funny look. “Let it be stated for the record that I am friends with none of you. I only have unfortunate family ties in this room.”
“Go freeze to death.” Sirius snaps at him harshly at the same time Remus turns his head to say, “Shut it, Regulus.”
Regulus pushes his bottom lip out in a mock-offended pout and turns to gaze at James sadly. “They are being mean to me.”
James smiles despite himself and reaches out a hand to ruffle the other’s hair gently. “You should probably leave them alone unless you’re actually trying to get us kicked out.”
Regulus leans into the touch. His gaze wanders back over to the bickering pair. “What’s their deal anyway?” he asks with a click of his tongue.
James shrugs his shoulder. “They fought about something before we got here.”
Regulus stares off at the wall thoughtfully for a moment, then turns to address his brother again. “When was the last time you had sex? That usually solves--” James hurries to quickly slap a hand over his mouth.
“See?” Remus exclaims pointedly, turning to look at Sirius. “No fucking boundaries. Either of you three.”
Sirius lets out a low bark of laughter. “Oh, that’s rich coming from you.”
Remus’ eyes narrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Regulus arches an eyebrow and turns to face James once more. “Are they arguing about boundaries? Them, seriously?”
James tunes out the rest of their argument to focus on the dinner instead. Regulus works swiftly and methodically, and he is even faster when he is hungry, which is very fortunate because while James hates to be the kind of person to diminish other people’s problems, he can not help but agree that sometimes certain grudges just go away on their own if you sit two people down in a warm living room and shove a bit of well-cooked food down their throats. The human body is just magical like that sometimes.
“If you ask me,” Regulus says, lowering his voice to half a whisper when they sit down at the table after the ribs have been seasoned and pushed into the oven to cook. “All they really need is some hot, steamy shower sex and a plate of hot grilled ribs.”
James pulls up the kettle at the centre of the table to pour them both a mug of chai. “Before or after the ribs?”
“Before, obviously.” Regulus deadpans, offering him a grateful nod when James slides the mug over to his side. “Food is best after sex.”
“Mmm.” James feels his lips curl up in a smirk as he brings up the cup to his lips. “Now you’re just giving me ideas on purpose.”
“Can you two stop being gross all over our dining table,” Sirius says with a grimace as he flops down on a chair across from them. The argument seems to have died down a little by now, but the heavy atmosphere still hangs in the air between them. “I’m about to throw up, thank you.”
Regulus watches his brother for a moment, the mug pressed between his fingers tightly. He looks over to James, gestures at Sirius with his eyes and raises his eyebrows in question. James gives him a subtle nod, to which Regulus blinks slowly in confirmation.
“I shall go check on the ribs.” Regulus announces loudly, pushing himself up from the table. I’ll talk to Lupin, he mouths at James wordlessly over his shoulder before leaving him and Sirius alone at the table.
James’ eyes wander over to Sirius, watching him as he drums his fingers against the surface of the table impatiently, eyes staring off at an unfocused point on the wall across from him. James sighs and reaches out a hand to close it over Sirius’.
“What is this about, Pads? Really.”
Sirius exhales slowly through his nose. He shuts his eyes and raises a hand to run it through his hair in a nervous gesture. “I don’t know, it’s not really… about anything, you know? It’s just..” He huffs out a sigh, averting his gaze to the window beside them. The snow keeps pouring on, covering everything in a dirty shade of white.
“Everything.” James agrees with a nod. “I know.” And he knows from the heavy look in Sirius’ eyes that he also knows.
It’s not a secret that the past few years after the war have been tough on all of them. And while it seems like it was such a long time ago, these things have a tendency to stick, to a point he could never even imagine to himself. Grieving people does not really have an expiration date on it, and apparently neither do the legal trials at the Supreme Wizarding Court.
Even Regulus’ trial, which was by far not as controversial as many of the others, like Bellatrix’ and Malfoy’s, was still dragged out into years and years of unending hearings, publicised in a way that should have never been allowed in the first place. The Ministry insisted on milking every last drop out of their stories, until Sirius was prepared to actually march down to the Minister’s office himself and threaten to set fire to the entire building if they don’t stop this absurd charade.
They were all promised a clean sheet, an opportunity to start over and change the society they live in, secure a better environment than the one they grew up in for kids at Hogwarts, a stronger support system for kids from non-magical families, better laws and conditions for marginalised groups in the wizarding world; werewolves, goblins, elves.
But what they were not told was that nothing came without a price, and that after all the fighting they’ve already done, most of it was still ahead of them, and nobody was going to give it to them that easily. Sirius was very vocal about his opinions in favour of the disbandment of the Beasts Unit and complete reform of the Registry, which did not always draw the most positive of attention.
All in all, it was not easy for either of them. Sometimes things just boiled over and got the best of them. James knows it for a fact because he and Regulus used to fight about that too, all the time. They still do, although it’s been getting better.
“How’s Harry?” Sirius asks suddenly.
James looks up to meet his eye. “With his mum and Mary. They have that thing in Ireland next month, so he’s staying with them this week instead.” He glances at the snow storm outside for a moment before returning his gaze back to Sirius. His fingers are still dancing against the table restlessly, drumming out an anxious melody.
“You know, Pads.. he’s not really upset about anything you said or did. It’s more about.. It’s frustrating. When these things get to us. Because it’s supposed to be us against them, you know? And instead here we are, fighting with each other over minor bullshit. It feels like losing to them.”
Sirius watched him for a long moment. “Yeah, I know.” He says quietly. “I hate that.” He admits, and James can hear the strain in his voice when he says that. “I will burn down the Ministry one day, mark my words.”
James feels his lips curl up in a smirk despite himself. “Just don’t forget to call me.”
There is a noise from upstairs and Regulus makes his way back into the kitchen, followed by Remus shortly after. James quickly excuses himself from the table under the alibi of having to help Regulus set the table, but more with the intent of leaving Remus and Sirius alone to talk for a minute than anything else.
“Sorry for yelling.” Sirius says quietly after a moment of silence between them when Remus lowers himself down into the chair across from him, eyes fixated on his own hands.
Remus raises his gaze to meet the other’s. “Sorry for calling you a cunt.”
Sirius blinks at him, then a small smile tugs at his lips. “Yeah, that was a bit uncalled for. You’ve been spending way too much time with my brother lately.”
Remus mirrors the smile. “Oh, yeah, and whose fault is that, Padfoot?”
Sirius rolls his eyes at him, but there’s a hint of affection in it. He gets up from his seat and hops over to take the chair next to Remus, leaning in to press a quick peck to his lips as he does so.
James does not realise he is staring until Regulus clears his throat next to him. “I think I also deserve a kiss for my matchmaking services.”
James turns to smile at him warmly. “Oh, you deserve a kiss regardless, love.” He reaches out a hand to wrap it around Regulus’ waist and pulls him closer against him, tilting his head in an angle to press a strong kiss to the other’s lips.
“So, you were saying ribs?” Sirius yells at them from the table.
Regulus clicks his tongue and begrudgingly pulls away. “Honestly, what would you do without us.” He grumbles.
#this is 2.5K words?? what??#i enjoyed every second i am sobbing my heart hurts i love them so much precious babies#wolfstar feat jegulus is just......the ultimate go to dynamic i love them#this warms my soul#hope you enjoy this#wolfstar#jegulus#james x regulus#regulus x james#james/regulus#sirius x remus#sirius/remus#my writing
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not allowed, m | jjk
pairing(s): jungkook x reader; established relationship yoongi x reader
summary: The love of your life, BTS’s very own Min Yoongi, tells you he has a gift for you. But he also says you’re not allowed to refuse. What’s that supposed to mean, hm? Surely not... wild hot sex with the Golden Maknae himself?
warnings: rated M (18+) for language; established relationship with Yoongi (takes place after his surgery); smut (fem reader, m-receiving oral, dirty talk, penetrative sex, doggy, spanking); idol!BTS; it’s self-indulgent and I’m a little ashamed but it’s too late now, whoops
--
Just... just looking through the Twitter tag couldn't hurt, right?
You scrolled through the pictures slowly. They performed really well these past two days. Received all the awards they deserved, because BTS were the best. Still, it depressed you seeing the empty space where Min Yoongi was supposed to be.
But that was because Yoongi was beside you, propped up in the bed with pillows, scrolling on his phone with his right hand. Occasionally, he would lower it to use both hands, since his left arm was still in the sling. You two had watched the MMA and MAMA 2020 performances together. You knew he wanted to be there. You could hear it in his voice when he called in.
Oh, that’s right, were you supposed to be in his apartment?
No.
But you didn't care about rules and neither did Yoongi.
Were you dating? Well, as much as dating could be when it came to a relationship with the most loved 'lil meow meow' in the whole world.
Yoongi always gave you this look of disapproval when you called him that, but you would always just smile and say it again, slower.
It was the kind of thing that simply fell into place and neither of you wanted to convolute it with too many other opinions or thoughts. What happened, happened. You weren't going to make yourself known or ask for impossible things. When he told you that he was getting surgery for his left shoulder and wouldn’t have schedules for a long while, you cashed in on all those sick hours you accumulated at work, stating you had to take care of a loved one.
No one knew your loved one was Min Yoongi. And that's way you two liked it.
Yoongi leaned over to the long straw of the water bottle tucked in the crook of your arm.
"Staring at our maknae again?"
You stiffened. "I'm looking at all their pictures, Yoongi. Just happened to stop on Jungkook."
He took a short sip.
"Mmm-hmm."
A few seconds past. You stared at Jungkook’s intense dark eyes, his long hair flying about from dancing, his clenched jaw as he focused. Looking sinful in all white, tempting you to save the photos.
"You're not changing the screen."
"I'm admiring the stylists' hard work."
Yoongi hummed. "You're a bad liar."
You would have thrown your phone at him if it wasn't the special edition BTS S20+, complete with a Shooky phone case. You swiped past, seeing the image of Jungkook lifting Jimin in the Black Swan performance.
"I should tell him."
You narrowed your eyes at him. "Sick of me?"
"No." He pointed to his left arm. "Can't take care of you either."
"I don't want to be the reason you need more months of physical therapy. I'm fine."
Yoongi placed his phone in his lap and placed his right arm around your shoulders. "We could risk it," he purred.
You chuckled. "I don't think that's a good idea." You leaned your head against his shoulder. "I want to see you preform again."
"But you still want to bang Jungkookie."
A muscle in your eyebrow twitched. "I'm only looking at the pictures, Yoongi. You know you're the only one for me."
"You wouldn't try? Even if he begged you?"
You turned to Yoongi and his crafty smirk. "No." You stared at his lips and leaned in, kissing him lightly. You smiled against them. "I love you, Yoongi." Your smile turned into a smirk. "I worked too hard to sneak in here. Even outsmarted Dispatch. You can't get rid of me so easily."
Yoongi smiled back. He leaned against the headboard.
"What if I was okay with it?”
You blinked at him. "Why would you be okay with it?”
Yoongi shrugged. "You're mine, no matter what, no? Not even Jungkook's dick is going to change that."
"... Hah?"
Yoongi held up his hand, long fingers spread out. He ticked them down as he spoke. "Pros: my woman gets to satisfy her little crush, gets the fucking she wants, and will be happy."
You felt your ears burn. "Yoongi..."
Yoongi raised an eyebrow, wicked smile on his lips. "Cons... none."
You rolled your eyes. "You'd be pissed off."
He tilted his head. "What do I have to be pissed off for? Are you saying there's a reason I should be worried?"
You frowned. "No. Even if it did happen, which it won't, you will always be number one."
Yoongi nodded. "There you go."
You let out a puff of air. "I don't think Jungkook would agree anyway. And I wouldn't do it, because it's not the right thing to do."
"Who decided it's wrong?"
You made a face. "I don't know... society?"
"And we trust that societal rules are just and moral?"
"I mean, no..."
-
Washing your hair was always a pain in the ass.
You had to blow-dry it upside down, add five products at different stages, brush it super carefully with a special brush to avoid breakage, collect the fallen hair and throw it out, blah blah blah.
You shrugged on one of Yoongi's shirts after the shower – the black-and-white checkered one he wore during his VLive. Running your hand through your hair, you finally picked up your phone. Yoongi was at physical therapy, so he wouldn't be back for a while. You had some messages from him, probably before he had to put his phone away.
I sent you a gift. It will arrive today. You are not allowed to refuse.
You raised your eyebrows at that.
P.S. Merry early Christmas.
Was it jewelry? You pursed your lips. You always told Yoongi not to buy you things. Firstly, because you felt bad you could never reciprocate the amount he spent. You didn't make the money he made, after all. And secondly, you weren't that interested in owning expensive things. The only expensive items you loved were technology-based. Yoongi and you bonded over the newest Samsung products and always kept an eye on the latest tech.
Maybe that was it? Maybe you had to collect a package. You mused, brushing your teeth. You were going to borrow Yoongi's pants, but you had to go hunt for some. After the teeth brushing.
You spat and gargled some water.
The front door opened.
You frowned. Was physical therapy canceled? Yoongi didn't have people come in and clean the apartment, because he didn't want anyone to find you. You weren't supposed to be here and no one knew you were here – except for his members, of course. But they didn't have the key, so it had to be Yoongi. You waited, in case there was someone outside. You didn't want them to hear your voice. The door closed and relocked.
You spat and rinsed out your mouth before turning off the light and going to the hallway.
"Yoongi, was physical therapy can–"
The head of long black hair lifted and turned around. He was in the middle of taking off his black sneakers. He pulled down his black face mask.
It was not Yoongi.
"Hey, noona."
Abort.
You backed up.
"J-J-Jungkook?"
The mischievous maknae grinned.
"I'm the gift."
Your eyes widened. You whipped your phone to your face, nearly dropping it, juggling it for two seconds before slapping it between your palms and rereading Yoongi's messages. Rereading them way too many times because what? What, what, WHAT?
"D-don't you have p-practice?" Why were you stuttering? You never stuttered. But you never had that conversation with Yoongi until a couple days ago either.
"I have some time, but I have to go back, yeah," Jungkook replied, far too cheerfully for how flustered you were. He was probably trying not to laugh at you.
"How did you get in? And what do you mean, y-you're the...?"
You felt like your world was spinning. Did Jeon Jungkook just announce he was the gift? What? You're not allowed to refuse. Of course, you were going to refuse! This was Min Yoongi you were in love with! The cutest in the entire world!
Jungkook brushed back part of his long hair and tucked it behind his ear, revealing half of his forehead and his silver hoops. Smirk on his pink lips, the mole underneath his lower lip winking at you. Skin tan and glowing in the hallway light.
...
Okay, yes, Jeon Jungkook was very handsome, but it didn't matter because–
"Hyung and I had a talk. He gave me the key," Jungkook said, dangling it.
"Hahaha, why would be do that?" you laughed nervously, still crab-walking backwards because maybe if you just fused with the wall then you were be spared from those penetrating dark brown eyes.
Jungkook stepped into the apartment, following you. “I was surprised too.” He smiled somewhat apologetically. “I guess he overheard me telling Taehyung that I would totally fuck you if you weren’t hyung’s girlfriend.”
You blinked rapidly. “P-pardon?”
Jungkook held up his hands. Oh dear. His pretty, large hands that reminded you of Yoongi’s, but his right hand was tattooed. “But I wasn’t going to do anything though. Promise.” His eyes shifted upwards and then he looked back at you, his rueful expression turning into one of slyness. Shit. “Well, until Yoongi-hyung asked me to, that is.”
You stumbled in the doorframe of the bedroom. To be honest, you kept backing up because Jungkook advancing on you was making you uneasy, hot, and bothered. With emphasis on the latter two. You still couldn’t believe Yoongi would do this to you. This was Yoongi! Mild-mannered, sweetie with swagger, SUGA of BTS!
Then you had a thought.
You were always very good at teasing Yoongi. Either to annoy him or sexually in public situations. You could imagine Yoongi’s smirking face now. Knowing he got the one-up on you. Knowing he’d finally shocked you.
You’re not allowed to refuse.
The back of your knees hit the edge of the bed. A hot shiver went up your spine. Jungkook was right in front of you. Black parka, black jeans. Jungkook unzipped the parka, shrugging out of it. Black dress shirt. You knew Jungkook did not like wearing button-ups. Why was he wearing it? He unbuttoned the first one, revealing his collarbone. Then the second one. Open-mouthed smirk completed with his tongue between his teeth, dark eyes on your shaking form.
The maknae was going to fucking striptease you?
You held a hand up. “Hold on a second.”
Jungkook’s fingertips paused above the next button.
“You’re doing this… for fun?”
Jungkook tilted his head. “No. Not really for fun.” His voice was low, deep. His eyes trailed down your body, then back up to your face, lingering all over you. You swallowed. “I’m doing this because this is the only chance I’ll get.”
“What if I say no?”
Jungkook lowered his hand. “Hyung said you weren’t allowed to refuse.” His voice was softer now, almost pouting. Ouch. It actually pained you. You wanted to give in to him just like that. You loved Yoongi with all your heart, but the maknae’s charms definitely worked on you. They worked on everyone. Everyone loved Jungkook and wanted to give him everything.
“Jungkook,” you breathed, trying to reorient yourself, trying to find the right words. “I’m not saying I’m not interested. I definitely am.” He observed you carefully as you groped for the right words. “But this is a little crazy. And… you could get anyone.”
“I couldn’t get you.”
You slowly, slowly made eye contact with him. Jungkook took a step towards you. You didn’t move, transfixed by his chocolate eyes.
“The way you slowly fell in love with Yoongi-hyung,” he whispered, getting closer and closer. “You didn’t even notice. You still don’t notice. The way I stare at you, you and the beautiful shape of your eyes.” His finger came up and traced your eyes, rooting you in place. “Your cute nose. The shape of your lips.” His fingertip brushed against your lower lip. “So full. I watch you kiss him, wishing it was me.” He caressed your cheek. “The dimples that appear when you smile. So cruel.”
Jungkook’s breathing shallowed. His eyes flickered downwards to your hands, still clutching your phone. He reached for it and took it from you. Threw it onto the bed. Then his hands wrapped around yours, clutching them tight. You stopped breathing. Jungkook’s voice dropped several octaves.
“I watch your hands. Touching him, resting on his thigh, tracing up, palming him right in front of us.”
“I didn’t… think anyone would notice.”
Jungkook leaned in even more, still holding your hands tightly, as if they were going to disappear. You could smell his clean scent, like fresh laundry.
“I always notice,” he murmured. “Whenever you’re there, I can’t help but have my eyes on you. I couldn’t touch, but I could look. I thought that was all I could have.”
Jungkook let go of you. Hand dancing up your neck, cupping your cheek. Tilted his head, eyelashes lowering. Breath against your lips. Eyes pleading you, waiting for the heartbreak.
“Please let me kiss you.”
You’re not allowed to refuse.
You pressed your lips against Jungkook’s, eyes closing. It was impossible to say no. He was sweet and soft. You could feel his nerves and his fear in his kiss, not trying to ask for more, not wanting to ask for too much. It was you who hooked an arm around his neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. Right, wrong? That didn’t matter right now. The only thing you cared about right now was taking Jungkook’s fear away.
You pulled him onto the bed, arms around his neck, mumbling his name against his lips. His breathing hitched, hands circling your waist, holding onto you.
“Noona…”
“Call me by name, Jungkook.”
He gulped, shaking his head. “I can’t.” He gnawed on his lip anxiously. You smiled, and took his hands, placing them by the buttons of his shirt.
“Weren’t you in the middle of giving me a show?” you teased. “You’re great at putting on a show.”
Jungkook’s lips curved into a smile. “Oh yeah?”
You settled down into the bed, looking up at him from in between his thighs. You could tell Jungkook was still nervous, but there was something else too. His mischief was creeping back into his sparkling eyes. You cocked an eyebrow, smirking. He undid another button. And another. Carefully, playfully pulling the fabric apart, revealing a little of his skin at a time.
“Hyung told me you like staring at my pictures.”
You shrugged, licking your lips. “They’re nice photos.”
“Were you satisfied by just looking at pictures?” he purred, already reaching lower, lower. You could see the contours of his muscular torso, the top of his abs. Ugh, Jungkook was so attractive. Scratch that, so fucking hot. He reached the bottom of his shirt and placed two fingers under your chin, pushing it back up to his face.
“My eyes are up here.”
His fingers under your chin made you realize how hard you were breathing.
“Jungkook.”
He tilted his head at you, long hair covering part of his face.
Yoongi’s words came back to you. My woman gets to satisfy her little crush. At the time, you thought those words were referring to your crush in Jungkook. But perhaps it was the other way around. Maybe Yoongi was referring to you satisfying Jungkook.
“Don’t hold back.”
And then you got up from the bed, grabbing the collar of his dress shirt and yanking them down Jungkook’s shoulders, kissing him again, but harder this time, tongue sliding into his mouth and thrusting into it, taking his breath away. Jungkook’s eyes went wide, gasping against your tongue, struggling to get out of his sleeves before he scrambled for the buttons on your shirt, moaning as you sucked on his tongue, gripping his upper arms.
“N-noona…”
“Call me by name or nothing at all,” you growled dangerously.
His dark eyes bored into you, daring you. You nipped at his lower lip, grinning.
“You think you’re the only one who’s horny here?”
Your hands danced around his arms, reaching around him, and your nails scratched him down his broad back, hissing as he moaned, tipping his head back, Adam’s apple shaking. Fuck, it felt so good. It felt so fucking good to drag your nails down that back, seeing Jungkook lose some control, falling more and more into the moment. You leaned forward, wrapping your arms around him, shuddering as his hard body was pressed against you and your half-open shirt.
“I want it all,” you breathed. “I’m so greedy, but I want it all, Jungkook. Give it to me.” Voice dropping, inhaling his delicious scent. “Please.”
He growled deep in his chest and grabbed the bottom of your shirt, yanking up and revealing your bra clasp, undoing it easily. Pushed you back, swiftly pulling your shirt and bra off together, tossing it aside to the floor.
“Fuck, your tits are as pretty as I thought they would be.”
And then Jungkook’s mouth was on you, furiously kissing down your neck, licking your collarbones, biting your shoulder, his hands roughly squeezing your breasts. You moaned, your nipples pressed against his thumbs, pinching them against the side of his hand. His lips travelled down, down and then they latched around your nipple, flicking it with his tongue. Your hands flew up into his hair, gripping it tightly.
“Fuck, they even taste good,” he whined. “You taste so fucking good.”
Your back arched as he began to suck, running your hands through his hair, whimpering his name, telling him how good he was, how nice it felt, lost in the feeling of his tongue and his strong arms around your waist. He switched to the other nipple, saliva dripping. Licking it all over and then breathing on it with his hot breath. Your entire body trembled in his arms from the sensation.
“I’m drooling; that’s how fucking good you taste,” Jungkook mumbled, sucking hard and tight, dark eyes on you as you cried out softly, holding onto his head. Your fingers curled into his long locks, grasping them tightly. He raised his eyebrow, but you began to rock back and forth into his mouth, tugging your nipple with his lips. Jungkook’s fingers dug into you, erotic groans vibrating in his throat as you fucked his face with your tits.
Wetness soaked your panties, the scent of your sex getting stronger and stronger.
Jungkook removed his lips, sucking in a tight breath. Your name slid out of his mouth in a tight hiss, no honorifics. You felt your pussy throb hearing your name come from his lips, saturated with desire. You grinned.
“Took you long enough, Jungkookie.”
He chuckled, grabbing your hips and shoving them up into his jean-covered crotch. You gasped. You could feel his erection straining against the thick fabric, grinding against your soaked panties. Fuck, you couldn’t stop staring at Jungkook, him and his sharp jawline and his beautiful eyes and his playful smirk on his damn lips, infuriating and arousing you.
“You’re so fucking irresistible,” you whispered, rolling your hips into him hard. It was his turn to gasp, his turn to shudder at your movements. The way you could turn him from smug confidence to those submissive doe eyes was turning you on way too much.
You wanted to ruin him and be ruined by him.
You grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him onto the bed. He yelped as you slid down, nails racking down his torso, whimpering in your wake. The front of his jeans was wet with your juices. You undid the button, zipping them down.
“How are you going to explain this?” you smirked, gesturing down to the giant wet sport at the front of his pants.
“They’re black,” Jungkook panted. “It’ll be fine.”
You laughed, pulling them down his legs. Jungkook’s hand flew down, reaching into his back pocket, pulling out a condom. You tilted your head.
“Only one?”
He looked down at you, startled. “W-well… I don’t know if you want more….”
You raised an eyebrow and reached over to the nightstand, opening it and taking out the whole damn box.
“Er… I cannot cum that many times. In one sitting, anyway.”
“Ah, well, let’s just see then.”
You peeled his jeans and boxer briefs off, licking your lips as your hungry eyes landed on his cock. Half-hard, pre-cum glistening at the tip. Jungkook swallowed nervously, but you crawled on top of him, immediately licking a fat stripe down his entire length. You moaned with him, feeling the blood rushing to his cock, pulsing against your lips. You hadn’t had sex in a while, trying not to tempt Yoongi or aggravate his injury. His recovery was too important to not only you, but the nation and the world. So, you kept your need to yourself, but now Jungkook’s cock was right on front of you.
And there was nothing to stop you.
You pressed your lips against his balls, licking them all over, playing with them with your tongue. Jungkook groaned above you, grabbing fistfuls of sheets as you began to suck on them, bobbing your head up and down. He was panting your name breathlessly, helpless as you pulled your head back, his balls slowly slipping out from between your lips.
You kissed up his length, tongue swirling around the head before taking him in, all the way, softly but firmly. If there was anything Yoongi’s tongue technology taught you, it was how to apply his technique to giving head, much to his surprise. You were good at extrapolation. You pressed the head into the roof of your mouth, raking it all the way to the upper part of your throat and tightening. Jungkook gasped, eyelids fluttering as your tongue assaulted the bottom of his cock, from the bottom of the head to the base.
You heard something between the lines of, “Holy fuck”, “What the hell”, and “Oh my fucking God.”
You retreated for a second, wrapped your tongue all the way around the head and teased the thin skin right where the head and length connected, repeatedly rubbing your lips over it before going all the way down again.
Now Jungkook was absolutely incomprehensible as you began to suck him off, fast and tight, lips soft compared to the vacuum of your mouth. Was it unfair? Yes, it was, giving him soft and hard, rough and wet, scraping the head against the back of your throat and choking it with your muscles. Jungkook was whimpering and cursing, his thighs flexing under you, tasting so fucking good that you were dripping between your own thighs.
You didn’t stop.
Faster and faster, holding his hips down, watching Jungkook unravel under you, hands in his long hair and slamming his head back into the pillows, covering his mouth as he screamed your name into his palm. You felt his cock spurt his cum into the back of your throat, your muscles constricting as you drank him up, your moans added vibration along his length.
The first orgasm was always the most and tasted the best. So much, coating the entire inside of your mouth, your tongue swiping around his cock to collect it all. You lapped it all up, encouraging his cock to get hard again. Smirking as you succeeded, popping your mouth off gently.
“What position do you want me in, Jungkook?” you murmured, throat a little hoarse, taking the condom and opening it, rolling it onto his cock.
He moved his palm from his mouth, panting hard, hair all over his face. His intense brown eyes locked with yours and you knew the dynamic was switched.
“On your back. Want to watch your face when I fuck you.”
You could relent, rolling onto your back, removing your soaked panties, chest heaving in anticipation as Jungkook got up, towering over you. His hands gripped your hips, adjusting you to the correct angle. You could play the other part, with one small caveat. His eyes found yours, glaring at you.
“Wipe that smirk off your face.”
“Make me.”
Jungkook thrust into you, hard, and you kept the smirk on your face as he forcefully stretched you out, pushing your limits.
“Hurts?” he taunted.
You licked your lips. “It’s not good unless it hurts.”
The slight irritation that flashed in his eyes spurred you on. You tightened around his cock, exhaling with a hiss. Fitting him to you, bringing out the dominance in him. Jungkook gritted his teeth and slammed his hips into yours. You had the audacity to chuckle.
“Did you really want me that bad, Jungkook?” you teased. “Or were they only pretty words? Are you a tiger or just a cute little bunny?”
Jungkook snarled low in his chest.
Then he began to fuck you, lifting your legs onto his shoulders and pressing down, smacking your ass with his hips. The position made you tighter, gravity making him pound you harder, forcing you to feel all of him as drove his rock-hard cock into you. Your hands flew up, one pressed against the headboard, the other clutching a pillow for dear life, eyes squeezing shut at the fullness and harshness.
“A-ah, fuck, yes,” you gasped. “So fucking good…”
Jungkook brought his face close to yours, hitting you deeper and just as hard. “Where’s your smirk now? Can’t give me one when you’re being punished by this cock?”
Your heart jerked in your chest at his dirty words, becoming even wetter with the dangerous edge to his voice.
“Listen to you, fucking dripping down my thighs with how wet you are for me,” Jungkook hissed, inhaling sharply as you throbbed hard around him. He groaned, clenching his jaw. “Fuck, I can’t help myself, I just have to fuck you like an animal.”
You snickered dryly, jerking your hips up to meet his. Not saying anything, letting your pussy do the talking because you were so close to orgasm that you roughly massaged his entire length, throwing your head back and moaning as you came around him. The squelching sounds between your connected hips got louder, drenching the air with the scent of sex and lust.
Jungkook sank his teeth into his lower lip, grimacing. “Fucking unfair how good you feel,” he ground out, squeezing his eyes shut, ramming his hips into you, muscles in his arms and shoulders tense. “Can’t even last, fuck.”
He crashed his hips into yours and growled your name in his throat, cock smacking against your walls as he came, swelling the condom full. You whimpered in ecstasy, back arching, clenching around his cock.
“Yes, Jungkook, oh, yeeees…”
It wasn’t enough.
Neither of you had had enough.
Jungkook gripped the end of the condom and pulled out, hissing at the sensitivity as he took it off. You tossed him a spare towel from the nightstand drawer and he cleaned himself, gasping.
“Hands and knees.”
You rolled over, flinging the box of condoms at him, and he caught it, dark eyes glinting.
“Spread that pussy for me.”
You reached back and planted your hands on each ass cheek pulling your wet slit open. Jungkook hissed and you could hear skin on skin of him jacking himself off to get hard again. An idea popped into your head.
You flexed your vaginal muscles, opening and closing your hole for him.
“Fuck,” he breathed. “You’re so damn sexy it’s illegal.”
You heard him get onto his knees. The sound of a condom being ripped open. His groan as he fitted the condom over his aching cock. His strong hands gripped your hips, the head rubbing against your entrance.
“Don’t know how long I can last,” he murmured. “I’m just going to go as hard and as fast as I can.”
“Do it, Jungkook,” you panted. “Make me feel you for days.”
He whimpered at your words and sank into you. Both of you moaning, your hands clutching the sheets, his fingertips bruising your skin, imprints of lust. Jungkook was pure, glorious power that threatened to overtake you, his cock throbbing and digging into your walls as he fucked you hard, muscular thighs slapping into yours. The poor bed could barely take it, but neither of you noticed, lost in the feeling of being filled and doing the filling.
His hand came down on your ass, a sharp, harsh sound that echoed off the walls and made your pussy clench. It barely hurt. You had felt worse before.
“You like that?” he panted.
“Fuck yes I do,” you gasped hotly. “Spank my ass, Jungkook.”
He did, thrusting into you and slapping you repeatedly, making your ass jiggle. You squeezed him each time, now rolling your hips back into him, arching your back as you came with a satisfied sigh. Your skin stung, your pussy was pulsating with abuse, and Jungkook’s cock hit all your deepest spots.
“Fuck, Jungkook, you’re so fucking good at fucking me,” you breathed, feeling him wind you up again.
He couldn’t even reply, only loudly moaning through the convulsions of your pussy radiating up and down his length. Good thing the walls were pretty soundproof, because it was a goddamn porno in the bedroom at the moment. It was obscenely lewd with the wet slapping of his hips into yours.
“So close, so close, squeeze me, fuck, choke my damn dick,” Jungkook rambled in between breaths, hissing as you did as you were told, gripping him every time he slammed into you. He came with a half-scream, half-moan of your name, whining at the sensitivity as you pulsed around him, leaking down his thighs and yours. It smelled so strongly of sex that you weren’t sure how you were supposed to clean this up before Yoongi came home.
Your phone buzzed loudly on the bed.
You grunted, clawing for it as Jungkook remained inside you, softening but refusing to leave your warmth. He wrapped his arms around you, burying his face into your back.
You checked your messages. From Yoongi.
Your gift needs to get his ass to practice before he gets yelled at.
“Jungkook, you’re gonna be late.”
He groaned in annoyance, squeezing you tighter. Another message popped up.
Tell him there’s plenty of time before I fully recover. If he works hard and does a good job, maybe after I recover too.
You poked Jungkook. He lifted his head, pouting, eyes changing to excitement when he read the message.
-
part ii “You’re not allowed to leave until your noona is satisfied.”
--
masterpost
#jungkook x reader#jeon jungkook x reader#jungkook smut#jungkook x you#bts smut#jeon jungkook x you#jeon jungkook smut#yoongi x reader#yoongi x you#min yoongi x reader#min yoongi x you
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The audacity
Seventeen 14th member
Hayun’s masterlist
“Seventeen won’t take bs when it comes to Hayun”
Requested by: two (2) anons
cw: offensive language
a/n: Feel free to share your thoughts with me. Requests are open! 💙
(to my brazilians around, this gif is svt’s version of ninguem solta a mão de ninguem)
The arrival of dancers made the practice room even more crowded and noisy than usual. It was one of the few times Seventeen worked with an outside dance team, and they happened to have a lot of new faces around, who needed time to figure out the staging and how things were working so far.
After they ran through the choreography a couple of times, the choreographer called in a break, allowing the huge group to instantly clear the middle space and separate themselves into small circles of conversations.
Seungcheol, Jeonghan, and Joshua instantly met each other and began chatting about dinner plans and whatnot. Slowly approaching Jun and Wonwoo, the oldest filled them in on what they're deciding until he starts searching for someone.
“So, we could order it on the next break and have someone grab it for us. Anyway, did anyone see Hayun?”
“Making friends, as usual,” Wonwoo comments, pointing at the other corner of the room where the girl was surrounded by four dancers.
“Hayun-ah” The leader waves her over and waits as she jogs to his side “We're talking about dinner, what do you think about-”
“Oh, those guys were talking about this new restaurant that opened downtown, I was thinking of tagging along with them” She points back at the group and watches as her members nod “But I can cancel, of course”
“No, go ahead. It's just a meal” Joshua goes to wave her off when Seungkwan approaches them with crossed arms.
“Yeah. Just a meal. Until she's suddenly ditching us during the holidays and moving out with her new friends” The boy pouts, turning his face away from the group. Hayun reaches up to ruffle his hair before landing a soft slap.
“Says the dude who is friends with half of the entertainment industry” Ignoring his eye roll, she turns back to the rest of their little huddle “Well, if nobody else will feel betrayed”
“I was kidding” Seungkwan whines and Scoups pushes her away from them “Stop being dramatic and go do your mingling”
Going back to the group of dancers, Hayun resumes chatting with them for a couple of minutes before the break is over.
After more hours of running over every tiny detail for the stage, the rehearsal finally ends and the scattering of people begins. Hayun takes a couple of minutes talking about minor adjustments with the members and just checking up on them before searching for the four friends she had made that evening.
“Hey, how do you guys plan on heading there?” She asks, taking a sip from her water bottle and missing the glances between the two boys and two girls.
“Actually, we might have to do it another day,” The girl closest to her says and flips a hair strand off of Hayun's shoulder. “We got pretty tired from this last session”
“And work tomorrow it's going to start pretty early, you know. It's best to let this go for today,” The boy nods to her before pulling out his phone from his pocket and slightly turning away from the idol.
“Yeah, I get it. That's okay, we'll reschedule it then” Hayun smiles and gives them a thumbs up “I'll head to the dorms, then. Have a good rest, and tomorrow we'll talk more”.
Sending her some quick waves and small smiles, the four dancers waited for Hayun to turn around before sharing an annoyed look and sighing.
The practice room slowly grows empty, only leaving Wonwoo and Vernon who lost an incredible game of rock, paper, scissors, and had to stay behind to clean up everything. Finally turning off the lights, the two boys head out into the hallway and spot a group of four people standing by the entrance.
“Aren't those the people Hayun was talking to earlier,” Vernon asks quietly before a voice from the group reaches them.
“Why is this damn cab taking so long? We should have let that airhead tag along”.
“Agreed. She would have talked our ears off, but at least we would have made it to the club already”.
Sharing a look, the two idols stop walking and listen closely to understand if the dancers are talking about what the boys think they're talking about.
“That was so stupid. Why would you invite her in the first place? She's so annoying”.
“I mean, having an idol considering you a friend would be fun, right? Especially with the Christmas season coming up. Can you imagine the gifts she would buy us?”
“Yeah, dude. We wouldn't even need to worry about paying for stuff anymore. Just have Hayun tag along anywhere and, boom, no more tabs to pay.”
“But also, no more functioning eardrums”
“No, you have a point. She seems like she'd give us her credit card password on the third time we hung out. Not to mention, looking at her position in contrast with ours. You don't even have to befriend her, but be on her good side, and she'll make sure to give us more gigs within Pledis”.
Standing frozen, Wonwoo and Vernon listened to everything they were saying and shared looks of disbelief. Having enough of it, the oldest cleared his throat and slung his bag, making it hit his own back with enough force to make a thumping sound.
“Let's go, Vernon,” He ignored the four people standing before them with wide eyes and resumed walking. Once shoulder to shoulder with one of the dancers, Wonwoo stopped again and said while looking ahead, “Next time, be careful of whom you're talking about”.
Vernon, on the other hand, made eye contact with each dancer before raising one eyebrow and following the oldest. After closing the car door, he groaned annoyed, “Can you believe they had… ”
“… the fucking audacity” Jeonghan places his cup on the table, face showcasing utter disgust after Wonwoo told him what they had listened before leaving the Pledis building.
“Show me who those people are again tomorrow. I'll make sure they never step inside our practice room, ever again,” Hoshi points out.
“Is there a way of not having them tomorrow? I'm afraid Scoups Hyung might commit murder” Dokyeom brought attention to the leader standing on the corner of the kitchen.
Looking like he was plotting an illegal act, Seungcheol scoffs and pushed himself away from the cabinets. “The bare minimum you would expect from someone is that they can be professional. I swear, those people are getting an earful for talking about Hayun within a billion-meter ratio from where I work”.
“It's best to let it rest until tomorrow's performance is done. After we'll probably never see them again, so there's not much point causing any visible disturbance.” Laying a hand on the leader's arm, Woozi tried to make some sort of sense, but all it did was cause Scoups to roll his eyes.
“We can't just act like nothing happened”
“We also can't change anything about the choreography until then” Hoshi butts in and takes a breath trying not to jump in the 'let's hunt them down' train.
“They already know Wonwoo and Vernon heard them trash-talking her, so I'm not letting them have it easy tomorrow.” Jeonghan rolls his eyes and pointed to both Woozi and Hoshi, “I'm speaking my mind the first moment I see those sons of bitches, you're free to wait until the show's over”.
“About that, I don't think we should tell Hayun what happened” Joshua, who had been quiet the entire time, speaks, drawing attention to him. “Not until, as you said, the show is over, and we won't see them again. You know that she's probably going to get disappointed about it”.
“And you expect her to not go running to meet her new 'friends' once we arrive at the venue?” Wonwoo raises an eyebrow, but Mingyu shakes his head and backs the older up.
“We just have to keep her entertained around us. Fill in Dino, Seungkwan, and Myungho later, and have them help with making sure the group doesn't run into her”.
Raising his hand, Vernon casually mumbles “Maybe don't tell Seungkwan, he won't be able to hide his feelings about the whole thing”
“Myungho won't either” Jun comments and the room falls silent at the sound of the remaining members chatting and approaching the kitchen.
“Wow, you make a meeting and forget to call in the main characters” Hayun laughs walking through the room and opening the fridge for a beer “So, when's the food arriving?”
~
Hayun is sitting on the makeup chair, casually watching Scoups and Jeonghan whispering to each other from the mirror's reflection, when a hand lands on her shoulder and another holds out a smoothie for her.
“Whatcha thinking about?” Joshua sits on the chair next to her while Mingyu punctures the drink's lid with a straw.
Without taking her eyes off the mirror, she nods with her head to it. “Those two are up to something”
“Scoups and Jeonghan Hyung? Nah, they're always like that. Sharing secrets and stuff,” Mingyu giggles, shoving the straw inside her mouth and shifting to stand in front of the mirror. “Cute nail polish, when did you have time to get it done?”
“Oh, these are acrylics. This lady was just putting them on” Hayun falls into his trap and began analyzing the design with some occasional comments from the boys.
Peace has seemingly set inside the dressing room, yet it doesn't last long until Dino's loud “Uh?” caught the attention of the members, who turned to see what he and Vernon were doing.
Trying to shut the youngest up, Vernon makes it very obvious to the guys that he had just filled Dino in with the “frenemies” situation. Most of them try to brush it off and not bring more attention to it. Seungkwan, however, approaches them by, very loudly, asking what's up.
“What are you talking about?” He boringly fixes up his outfit. Vernon can feel the burning eyes of Jeonghan on his skull as he tries to deviate the conversation to another topic.
“Did you go see catering already? I heard they had a coffee machine”.
“Wait. Does he not know what happened?” Dino fails to read the room properly and instigates the older boy.
“What happened? Why is everyone sharing secrets all of a sudden? Is the thing you're discussing why Scoups Hyung seems ready to jump someone”.
The timing of events can't be worse, as the makeup artist taps Hayun's shoulder to let her know they were done. Within seconds, the girl gets up and turns to where the three youngest were standing.
“What's with the gossiping? Did Vernon lose his airpods again?” She brushes away from Joshua as he tried to hold her in place and waves off Mingyu when, in a panic, he suggests they should check out the pigeons outside.
“What? No! I mean, yeah! How unfortunate, isn't it?” Vernon jumps around his answers and tries looking for anyone willing to help him out.
“Just tell her about it” Approaching them from the door, Jeonghan, now without the leader's company, shrugs his shoulders, making Hayun raise an eyebrow.
“Jeonghan, at least wait until the day is over,” Joshua speaks through his teeth and the boy rolls his eyes.
“Well, she already knows something is up, and to be fair I don't know what good hiding this will bring. At least, if she feels like doing something about it, she'll have the chance right now”.
“Do something about it? Hadn't we agreed that the best is to wait until the performance is over and just never see them again?”
“What even are you talking about?” Hayun shuts them both up and Jeonghan and Joshua turned to her with annoyed expressions, “Don't even look at me like that. You're the ones mentioning me as if I'm not in the room”.
Placing a hand on her shoulder, Joshua tilts his head a little and speaks softly, “Trust me for a moment here, it's best if you brush it aside. Until later at least, and then we can settle it as you wish”.
“Wha- Just spill it out for fucks sake. I'm going to combust if you don't tell me right now whatever this all means,” Hayun puffs, punching his shoulder. Just as Joshua opens his mouth to say the same thing again, Jeonghan beats him and shoves himself in front of the girl.
“Do you recall those dancers you were planning to go out with yesterday? Yeah, well, turns out they're all little shits who were trash-talking you, and just overall talking crap, yesterday”
“Jeonghan” Joshua repressed the older who does nothing but wave him off.
“Doesn't matter what they said because you're nothing of it, and-” Adverting his eyes for a second, Jeonghan stares to the side, where half of Scoups' body is waving for him through the door. “And, and, you're amazing and all of that. So now go rest your awesome self while I go teach those punks a lesson”.
Zooming past her, Jeonghan runs to the door, where the leader is already back outside. Hoshi, Jun, Woozi, and DK, scream for him before also going out of the door. A very lost, Seungkwan, simultaneously tries to get Vernon to tell him what exactly the dancer said before while shouting for the older to wait for him to also speak his mind.
“I didn't want you to know about this before the performance, but-”
“Whatever, let's make sure nobody dies today” Hayun rolls her eyes and turns around, Wonwoo running from where he was watching everything and holding her by the shoulder.
“Do you want us to go fix that up? It's okay to give them the cold shoulder or just go off if you want to” Nodding, she keeps silent and walks out, bringing the rest of the guys behind her.
The8, who also had just found out about the situation, whispers to Vernon, “Can you believe they had the audacity?”
“I know, right?” The youngest whisper-yelled at him as they made it to the hallway and assessed the situation.
“The next time you even think about opening your mouth to talk about her-” Scoups had his finger pointing at the tallest dancer -who ironically had a few centimeters on him-, while the rest of the members stood next to him nodding and calmly listening to what the leader was saying.
“Oppa, just drop it,” Hayun shouts, walking past them and holding his shoulder.
Annoyingly, Scoups rolled his eyes and turned to her, “What do you mean, drop it?” Thinking for a second, he blinked and turned even more bothered, “Who even told you about this?”
The leader looked around until he found Mingyu, offending the tall guy who made an X in front of his body.
“Doesn't matter who told me. Let's just not lose time doing this” Brushing past him, Hayun now faced the dancers “Look, I'll teach you something right now, so grab it or drop it okay? I don't give a shit that you don't like me, or whatever, but at least be professional because all this situation did was teach me that none of you care about your careers. It's pretty clear by the angry puppy beside me that you just lost any chance of growing inside our brand, so keep this as a lesson and respect the artists you're working with. Also, once we're on stage put on a smile, so my fans won't be able to sense your shit”
“It should be pretty clear by what she said but you definitely don't have a chance to work with any Pledis artist again” Hoshi came from the end of the hallway alongside their manager and choreographer. The latter nodded and added.
“For the sake of the performance, you should all go back to your dressing rooms. You all said whatever was on your mind, so try to refocus during the last few minutes you have”.
“I didn't get to say what was on my mind” While the group was dispersing, DK mumbles on the side and Jun snorts.
“You had a chance, but all you did was stare at them and scowl until Scoups Hyung took the lead”
“I don't care about who said and who didn't say what they wanted” Hayun rolled her eyes, turning to the boys as they arrived in the room. Clasping her hands together, she brings them to her face and smiles, “You all care about me”.
“The fact you still doubted about it after years hurts me” Dokyeom held his chest and frowned, the girl laughs and goes to hug him.
“Group hug?” Seungkwan says uncertainly and Hoshi nods, dragging Woozi with him, “Group hug!”
#Hayun#seventeen 14th member#seventeen au#Seventeen Additional Member#seventeen addition#seventeen female addition#seventeen female member#seventeen female oc#seventeen extra member#svt 14th member#svt oc#svt addition#kpop addition#kpop female addition#14th member of seventeen#seventeen x 14th member#seventeen x oc
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Invisible String
Ship: Fem! Reader x Spencer Reid
Warnings: None, this is just fluff.
Word count: 3.2k
Summary: You and Spencer Reid don’t know it, but you’ve almost met quite a few times. What happens when you do?
A/N: This is potentially a bit on the wrong side of the cheesy line, but I was listening to invisible string by Taylor Swift and couldn’t get this idea out of my head. Pls bare in mind I’m from the UK and my only understanding of the US college system is from Google searches, so pls be forgiving of any misunderstandings about that.
November 6th, 2007
Dr. Spencer Reid. As you sat, thumbing through the article he’d written about the formation of ionic compounds in a chemical whose name you could not for the life of you spell or pronounce, you couldn’t help but resent the man.
Sure, the paper was very well-written and as cohesive as possible given the complex subject matter. But Dr. Spencer Reid, whoever he was, was the current source of your resentment at selecting chemistry to make up your science credit. Highlighting the name of a substance you’d have to look up later, you sighed. It was getting late but you had to hand in a critical summary of the paper on Friday.
It didn’t help that Dr. Reid was: a) a triple doctorate holder by the age of 22, or b) that your chemistry lecturer was none other than his old chemistry lecturer from Caltech and practically glowed with pride whenever he got to bring him up.
You chew on the end of your pen, having now distracted yourself from the notes. Not that you were particularly focused anyway.
In another life, maybe you’d have been a budding chemist who could describe an ionic lattice off rote. In this one, however, you’d just have to settle for slogging through the list of chemical processes and hoping you understood it well enough to please Dr. Reid’s biggest fan.
***
April 16th, 2008
Spencer hated flaking on commitments. It caused him a great deal of anxiety, the feeling of disappointing someone. He didn’t have much choice in this circumstance though.
Diana had taken ill over the last weekend. Nothing serious, some stomach bug or other. She’d become severely dehydated though, and had been hospitalised as a precautionary measure. Truth be told, he might not have gone if she hadn’t caught him on the phone. He was already feeling guilty for not having visited since Christmas. He wrote her letters everyday, yet still felt like he was neglecting his duties as a son. Rubbing his hands over his face, he lets out a deep sigh. Then takes out his laptop, to send another email.
Dear. Dr Abraham
I sincerely apologise again for my last minute cancellation. Excluding any unforeseen circumstances, myself and SSA Hotchner will be available to present the lecture on May 12th.
Yours sincerely,
Dr. Spencer Reid.
***
May 12th, 2008
Considering this was your third year on campus, you sure were bad at finding your way around. In your defence, they were doing maintenance in one of the main buildings, meaning that lectures got shuffled around and relocated. You probably had a higher change of attending the right lecture by accident than on purpose.
It doesn’t help that you’re running a little late this morning. You rush into Room 203. A lot of the seats are taken, you have to meander your way past quite a few people until you end up sat almost directly in the middle. Only moments before the lecture starts.
“I’m SSA Hotchner, and this is SSA Reid. We’re members of the BAU which is based at FBI quarters in Quantico. Today, we’ll be talking to you about profiling.”
This is not your forensic linguistics lecture.
Panic hits you, hot in your gut. Scanning the room anxiously, you suddenly become conscious that you’re drawing attention to yourself when you feel the eyes of the man who is not SSA Hotchner on you. Fuck.
There’s no way for you to escape now, not without disturbing half the lecture hall.
So you sit back in your seat, resigning yourself to sit awkwardly in the lecture you’re not supposed to be in and hoping nobody notices.
But then, it’s really interesting, actually. The work that Dr. Reid does sounds similar to work you’ve done in forensic linguistics, analysing patterns of speech and minor phrase formations that can give things away about the perpetrator. By the end of the seminar, you’re sat leaning forward. Enraptured by almost every word coming out of their mouths.
It seems to be the general mood: everyone is enamoured. People are clammering to speak to them at the end. After a brief inner battle, myou decide that you should talk to them too.
What’s the harm?
You’ve decided that you’ll speak to Dr. Reid, since he seems to share more of a field focus. However, as you’re heading down, you spot him. Dr Adams, your chemistry lecturer from last year. Oh shit, it’s that Dr. Reid.
Speaking to SSA Hotchner will just have to do instead.
----
“I’ve been majoring in forensic linguistics and criminal psychology,” You tell him, “Do you think ... I mean, I know it’s a pretty exclusive team to get on to. But is that the kind of thing that could maybe get me there one day?”
Hotchner nods, “Forensic linguistics is something that comes in very useful in the investigative aspects of cases. The FBI is always looking for new angles and perspectives, those are both good subjects to study if you were thinking of signing up to the academy.”
"Thank you, Agent Hotchner,” You say, suddenly a little bashful as you notice the queue of people lingering behind you, “That was a really interesting lecture. It’s definitely something I’ll think about.”
“You should talk to Dr. Reid if you have a particular interest in the linguistic aspect of profiling. He’s more specialised in that area than I am. I’m sure he’d be more than happy to discuss any research you’re conducting at the moment and suggest materials that might be helpful in furthering your understanding of the area.”
“Thank you,” You smile, and he nods at you again.
Stepping away from Agent Hotchner, you look to your right. Dr. Reid is still engaged deeply in conversation with Dr. Adams. You glance at your watch. There was time before your next class, you supposed, so you could wait. It couldn’t hurt to find out more, could it? It wasn‘t like you were getting your hopes up or anything.
It’s then that you feel a pair of arms around your waist, a familiar scent of cologne.
“Hey!” You whip around to see your boyfriend, grinning widely.
“Hey,” You reply, “How’d you find me?”
“I was walking past when I saw you talking to that FBI agent. Seriously, FBI?” He asks, with a disapproving quirk of his eyebrow, “You want to grab a coffee before Psych?”
You want to say no. But he’s got his hand on the small of your back, leading you out of the room before you even get a chance to reply. You glance back over your shoulder, making eye contact with Dr. Reid for all of two seconds before you’re swept away.
“Seriously though babe, FBI?”
Unsurpisingly, you don’t mention your potential change in career path to him.
***
March 8th, 2009
“Come in,” Hotch calls. He looks up from the paperwork on his desk to see Spencer entering the room, clutching a report in his hand.
“That last case we were on. I was doing some more research, just for future reference about linguistic patterns. Have you read this?” He asks, sliding a copy of your paper across the desk.
Hotch gives it a cursary look over, nodding, “Yes. It’s interesting. She’s signed up as an NAT. I believe I actually spoke to her at one of our lectures last year.”
"Her work is really impressive for somebody whose only studied this at a master level.”
Hotch almost smiles, “Yes. That’s exactly why I’ve recommended to the bureau that she signs up for profiling classes. Her work shows a lot of promise. They’re sending over a copy of her completed thesis, if you’d like to read it.”
“Yeah, I’d like that, thank you,” Spencer says, struggling to conceal the smile playing on the corner of his lips.
“I’ll email it to you as soon as I receive it.”
Spencer nods, smiling properly to himself as he leaves the room. It wasn’t unusual, exactly, for him to share new research that was relevant to cases. It was important that they all kept themselves fresh and acquainted with new theories about the field. Hotch, however, didn’t miss the excited way Spencer had presented it to him. Talking about how impressive you were, as if to subtly hint. He thinks it’s quite typical, actually, that Spencer could take such an interest in someone he only knew via an essay.
Although Spencer’s response does get Hotch to send a follow-up email, inquiring about whether you’d agreed to the classes. If Spencer was this impressed with your work, it must be good.
***
June 1st, 2009
The Metro that morning is packed. It doesn’t help that you’ve not been living here long, and don’t exactly know the route from your flat to the station off by heart yet.
You'd also had to make a detour to the post office. Your, firmly ex, boyfriend had mailed over the last of your things. Really, it was good riddance. His hounding you about your choice in job had only worsened. The relationship had been hanging on by a thread long before you’d moved away last month. You were more than a little grateful that it was finally over, that you could draw a line under it all and focus on your career.
Unfortunately, that hadn’t stopped you having a little cry to yourself on the way over.
Rushing, you make it onto the Metro just as the doors are about to close, falling against the railing on the left side. You grip onto it for dear life.
On the other side of the carriage, Spencer notices someone hurrying for the train. He had been buried deep in the paper he's reading, but the bustle had pulled his attention. Your back is to him, and there’s a scarf at your feet. He wants to say something, to try and get your attention, but he can’t from where he is.
“Miss, I think you’ve dropped something,” The woman you’re standing in front of says, gesturing to the scarf pooled at your feet.
You meet her eyes, sniffling slightly, “Thank you.”
Spencer watches as you pick it up, back still to him. Crisis averted, he turns his attention back to what he's reading: the published copy of your thesis Hotch had emailed him last week.
***
September 2nd, 2009
"This is SSA ____, the newest member of our team. She’s recently graduated from the academy and has an excellent knowledge of linguistics that the bureau feels will be a great advantage to this team. She’s had her induction and now will be joining the team on a probationary basis. She’ll be spending a little time with each of you in between cases to make sure she forms well-rounded knowledge of all aspects of what we do.”
It’s a little overwhelming, having everybody’s eyes on you.
“It’s so nice to meet you,” Emily is the first over, offering her hand for you to shake.
“You too, it’s really nice to meet all of you,” You say, shaking hands in turn with her, Morgan, Rossi, J.J, and Garcia.
“Hi,” Spencer calls from behind you.
You turn around to face him. You remember what Hotch had mentioned to you about him being a bit of a germaphobe, so you keep your hand by your side.
“Hi,” You say, “Dr. Reid, right?”
“You can call me Spencer,” He says, a little bashful, “I read your thesis, the study about you did about the construction of passive clauses as an indicator of guilt in adolescent offenders. It was fascinating.”
You feel yourself getting a little warm under his gaze, “Thank you. I'm surprised you’re even aware it existed.”
Hotch interrupts then, “Reid, do you want to sit with ____ while she goes over the case file? It’d be useful if you could go over how you’d go about constructing a linguistic profile.”
That’s how you end up spending much of your first day: with Spencer, huddled up over case files as he explains his profile-building process to you. Spencer’s an incredible teacher, you think. He explains his thought process without ever being condescending, leaving little gaps for you to answer.
You’re incredible, Spencer thinks. You seem to grasp exactly what he’s saying, filling in the gaps based on the clues that are actually in front of you, not letting yourself be guided too much by bias.
***
October 29th, 2009
Spencer loves everyone at the BAU. They’re all the family he never had, and he has relatively good friendships with all of them. Just, they aren’t quite the same as they are with you.
He struggles to put his finger on it, exactly. It’s a unique relationship. He shares very familial bonds with a lot of them: he and Morgan are brotherly, Rossi is fatherly, Garcia’s somewhat like an overexcited little sister.
The friendship he has with you is special. You always listen to him, even as he rambles on about inane things that anybody else would tell him to shut up about. In fact, sometimes about the exact things that they do tell him to shut up about. Just last week, he was rambling on about Star Trek when Morgan told him, not altogether unkindly, to “give it a rest, kid.”
“What was that you were saying?” You’d asked, sidling up to him, “I’ve never watched Star Trek but I thought the quote was beam me up Scotty.”
He’d looked at you, considering you for a moment, “You don’t have to-”
“I know. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to know Spence. You think I’d ask for a 15 minute lecture on Star Trek if I wasn’t interested in it?”
A warm feeling flooded his chest. The look on your face was so genuine, and you’d perched on the edge of his desk as he gesticulated, getting deep into the lore and how the misconception had come about. He still didn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, until he got to the end of his spiel. And then you asked him a question. You asked him a question to make sure you understood what he was talking about. You were listening the whole time, and you genuinely cared about the point he was making.
It's then that he realises, it was hard to pinpoint because it wasn’t friendship. He likes you. Shit.
***
November 2nd, 2009
You like everybody at the BAU. They’re all quite patient with you, really, happy to walk you through how they do things. Morgan’s taught you quite a bit about the tactical side of things already, and Rossi has been working with you on your interrogation techniques. Emily’s generally just a great mentor, always happy to listen and support however she can. She’s more experienced, but still relatively new to the team too, so you feel like there’s a certain understanding between you.
However, you’d definitely be lying if you said the person you hadn’t learnt the most from, or spent the most time with, was Spencer.
It hadn’t gone unnoticed by the rest of the team, either. You seemed to gravitate towards one another, forever sitting side-by-side on the plane. Sharing a line of thinking that usually led to devolved rambling, and scribbling, until you came up with something coherent.
It isn’t until November 2nd that you realise you have feelings for him.
You’re sitting at your desk, filling out a case report that Emily had promised to go over with you before she left for lunch.
“Hey,” Spencer’s familiar soothing voice comes, as he sidles up to you, “I got you something.”
Looking up, you notice the coffee cup in his right hand, “You are my caffeine lifesaver.”
He hands it to you, smiling a little nervously, “It’s actually not that.”
“Oh?”
His other hand is tucked behind his back, and he pulls it foward towards you, brandishing a red sweatshirt.
“I know you uh, left your red sweater behind at the hotel on the last case. And I know it was your favourite one, and I was shopping yesterday and I saw this and...” He trails off, embarassed, “It’s not the exact same, but it’s the same kind. I just thought you might like it.”
You swallow, hard, “Spencer that’s so sweet. C-Can I hug you?”
He nods. Standing up from your desk, you wrap your arms around his frame.
“That was so thoughtful.”
He squeezes you a little, really leaning into the hug, his face pressing against your shoulder. His tousled hair tickles your nose a little and you smile, clinging onto him, relishing in the feeling of safety and warmth.
It hits you then. When you realise you don’t want to let go. When you realise he makes you feel fuzzy. Loved. Cared for in a way you haven’t felt in a long time. Eventually, you have to let him go, and it’s in a daze that you return to your desk. You’re so concentrated on your overwhelming realisation, you don’t realise how reluctant he is to let you leave his embrace.
***
December 22nd, 2009
Driving Spencer home from the office was really just an excuse to get some time alone with him. You’d said something about the Metro being busy, one of the services being cancelled. He hadn’t factchecked you on that.
The BAU had tentative plans for boxing day, with the caveat being that no emergent cases arrived in the meantime. It was only really four days you wouldn’t see him, but that was longer than you’d ever gone without seeing him in all the time you’d known him. You worked together everyday, and it was unusual for you to go a full weekend without seeing each other. Recently, you’d got into the habit of going out for Sunday brunch together.
Pulling up outside his house, you hear him sigh.
“I know it’s only four days, but I’ll miss you.”
Smiling, you turn to him, “I’ll miss you too.”
Something in you changes then. He’s looking at you. You may be relatively new to profiling but you can see something behind his eyes, feel the charge of unsaid words electrifying the air.
“Can I hug you?” He asks.
“You can always hug me,” You reply, undoing your seatbelt and opening your arms for him.
He embraces you the way he always has: tightly. Like he doesn’t want to let go, couldn’t imagine ever letting you go. His face nuzzles to the crook of your neck, and then you feel his thumb brush your chin. Tilting your head down.
You exchange a look. His eyes flicker from your eyes, to your lips, and back. You nod your head, just slightly.
He kisses you then. Tender. You melt into one another, lips moving quickly as you drink one another in. Kissing each other breathless, your fingers intertwine in his hair and his hand comes up to cup your cheek. Nothing has ever felt so right.
***
June 10th, 2011
Neither of you have ever really believed in fate. It’s hard to - especially in your line of work - to want to interpret the workings of the universe as deliberate. Maybe you’d think a little differently though, if you knew about all the near-misses. All the times you could have met. But fate knew better. She waited until you were ready.
And as you exchange vows, promising each other your forever, you both know you couldn’t possibly deny that this was meant to be.
------
Taglists: @takeyourleap-of-faith @sassiest-politician
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#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid#criminal minds#reid x reader#spencer reid x y/n#imagine spencer reid#criminal minds x you#imagine criminal minds#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid imagines#pls like this it took me so long
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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.”
#jungkook#jungkook fic#jungkook smut#jungkook fanfic#bts fanfic#jeongguk#jungkook fluff#kpop#kpop fic#jjk#bts x reader#how did i manage to write this
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For the Elucien Halloween au, could you please do one where Elain is helping Lucien put on his face paint for the night since they've decided to stay in and give out candy to the trick or treaters. And Elain makes a joke about how he should have dressed up as a giant pumpkin since it would match his hair. It also doesn't have to be smut! :)
just some fluff and a lil making out tehe, enjoy!!
Paints and Pumpkins
WORD COUNT: 1234
SUMMARY: It's Halloween night and Elain and Lucien are getting ready to hand out candies to hyped-up children. Only, Lucien is a little stubborn when it comes to his face paint and a little accident, while rather humorous, makes it worse.
"Lucien Vanserra," she cried, holding the paintbrush tightly in her hand. "If you move one more time I'll stop and you'll have a half-done face."
Elain had officially been trying to paint her fiancé's face for 45 minutes. It was Halloween, the artificial lamp light filling the room as she sat straddling his legs, eager to finish the skull face paint that matched his skeleton costume. He let out a sigh, smudging the black paint on his lips as he spoke, "I told you not to bother in the first place, kitty."
"Stop calling me that," she hissed, holding his jaw tightly with her other hand. "And you can't be a skeleton without the face to match so hold still."
Halloween wasn't her favourite holiday, not when there was Christmas and birthdays to celebrate, but since being with Lucien, she'd learned to love the spooky season. Their house was decked out properly in black and orange decorations: pumpkins, spiders, fake cobwebs and witch's cauldrons. They'd practically bought the whole Halloween section in Target. While Elain usually liked to dress up as a princess or mermaid (something overly feminine that made her older sister roll her eyes) she'd gone with a classic black cat this year—hence the nickname kitty which she already despised. She'd gotten the tight, black leather suit from Nesta, adding a tail and ears, and painting on the whiskers and nose. She'd gone for sexy, seeing as this was her first Halloween whilst engaged, but she'd ended up still looking rather innocent. Lucien hadn't seemed to mind though, had pressed a kiss to her hair and moved to slip into his costume for the evening.
"A skeleton is basic anyway, and I don't think kids care about face paint," he replied, remaining still despite his unimpressed tone.
With her sister heavy in her first pregnancy, the annual Halloween party that Feyre and her husband hosted had been cancelled. Elain had been more than happy to skip the night, but when Lucien had brought up his trick-or-treating idea, she couldn't say no. Not when they'd likely have tons of candy and chocolate leftover in the morning, plus she was excited to see all the children in their costumes. She was going to be an aunt soon after all.
"Of course they do, face paint is the coolest thing to them. They're going to love you, baby," she grinned, content in her work as she leaned back and added the finishing touches.
She'd painted his whole face white to match the bone colouring, adding black contour, blacked-out eyes and nose, and stitch-like marks across his lips and out slightly onto the cheeks. She grabbed two cans from her bag, one a black hair spray and the other dry shampoo. "Black or white hair?" she asked, setting the cans on the table behind them.
Lucien had already tied his long hair back into a tight bun. He settled his hands on her thighs, rubbing his large palms up them as he titled his head. "Black? It will hide my natural colour more."
She nodded in agreement, taking the hair spray and beginning to shake the can. She loved his red hair, the natural orange colour had been the first thing she'd noticed about him. She remembered wanting to run her fingers through it and considered herself lucky that she got to do it every day now.
"You know," she started, chest brushing his as she lent up close, holding one hand over his forehead so the spray wouldn't ruin the paint she'd just done. "You should have been a giant pumpkin for Halloween, you have the hair to match."
The house fell into silence, the subtle playing of a horror movie leaking from the front room being the only noise. She lent back slowly, looking down at her fiance who had raised his eyebrows and looked at her with such a grumpy face that she couldn't help but laugh. "What?" she giggled, beginning to spray the black into his hair.
He wrapped both arms around her waist, tugging her closer. "You think you're so funny, don't you?" he muttered, breath warm against her neck.
"I don't know what you mean," she grinned, happy he couldn't see the smug look on her face as she finished spraying, brushing some strands with her fingers and staining them black. "You'd make a very hot Jack-o'-lantern."
"That's it."
Before she could lean back and see what he'd meant by that, he'd stood up, her thighs slipping around his waist automatically as he lifted her. He simply turned before putting her back down, butt against the table as he pressed her gently against it. She dropped the spray from her hands with a small squeak as Lucien pressed his mouth to hers. She'd be more worried about the stain possibly on their floor if he hadn't brushed his warm tongue against her mouth, tasting the chocolate they had snacked on before getting ready.
"Lu," she muttered and wrapped her hands around his shoulders as he began to kiss down her neck. Her thigh wrapped around his back, feet rubbing his leg as he felt his way down to her hip. He had begun to unzip her suit, lips kissing the softness of her breasts when he looked up and laughter spilt uncontrollably from her.
His eyes went wide as he sat back, looking at her with utter confusion before he realised. She imagined her face somewhat matched his. Face paint was all good and well, that was until you smudged it. He slowly sat back completely, collapsing into the chair as she sat up, leaning on her palms. "I look ridiculous don't I?" he sighed, reaching for one of her hands.
"Afraid so, babe," Elain chuckled, giving him her hand, despite the black spray that was sure to transfer to his own hands. She now noticed the fingerprints she'd left along his neck and couldn't help but blush.
"All your hard work," he pouted, and she wanted nothing more than to squish his cheeks together. "We should wash this off before—"
The doorbell rang and the light laughter of kids flooded through the open porch window. She pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh and failing terribly. She slipped from the table, walking toward the front door and reaching for the pumpkin basket that held all their trick-or-treat snacks. "What are you doing?" Lucien whispered, coming up behind her.
"Our first trick-or-treaters of the night require their candy, dummy," she whispered back, reaching for the handle.
He pressed a palm against the door frame and circled the other around his face in question. She only smirked, leaning up close to brush a chaste kiss to his lips. "I thought kids didn't care about face paint," she replied with a wink, repeating the words he had said to her only moments ago.
After rolling his eyes, he stepped away with slight reluctance and turned as she opened up the door wide. Three kids stood on the step, their parents at the end of the driveway. There was a princess, the little girl adorable in her golden dress, and what seemed to be two knights on either side with cardboard swords on their backs. Lucien complimented their costumes and she offered them the basket, happier than ever that they hadn't just decided to spend the night in front of the tv.
* * *
if you want to be added to my acotar taglist just send me a dm or an ask!
@sjm-things @dayanna-hatter @anne-reads @sayosdreams @swankii-art-teacher @gracie-rosee @noorismee @anyblinding @story-scribbler
#my writing#fanfic#fanfiction#sarah j maas#sjm#writing#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#elucien#elucien domestic#elucien au#elucien fluff#elucien fic#elain x lucien#lucien vanserra#request#prompt#halloween#elain archeron
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winter love (all i want for Christmas is you) -- Hotch x Fem!Reader
Hi hi hi!! I have literally been writing this on and off since September, and now I finally get to share it!! A few quick things: this fic has very much Hallmark vibes but does have a good dose of angst too; for the sake of this fic, Aaron was born and raised in Virginia; and Jack was never born (sorry buddy!).
I listened to Michael Bublé’s songs “All I Want for Christmas Is You” and “Cold December Night” a lot while writing this, so feel free to play those while you read! xx.
(The gif is from google because once again, my gif search is broken on here because apparently this post is too long?? Rip me)
Summary: You’ve returned back to your hometown after leaving to get your education, but you didn’t expect to run into your childhood best friend (and first love).
Word count: 9.4k
HOTCH MASTERLIST || MAIN MASTERLIST
If you told yourself a few months ago that you’d be moving back to Virginia, you would’ve scoffed and probably laughed -- loudly. Your mom, on the other hand, would’ve been elated, and swore she knew it.
Like she’s doing now.
“I’m just so excited to have you home again,” she gushes, helping you carry boxes of your clothes up to your old childhood room.
The room needs some work, like taking down all these embarrassing posters and changing the sheets to something not so cringe-worthy (thankfully, it’s a full-size bed instead of the old twin you grew up sleeping on). But it’ll be fine for the time being. It’s not like you’re going to find an apartment right before Christmas, or that you even want to. It’s been a while since you’ve spent a full Christmas season with your mom.
You’ve been studying out of state for the past six years, working to get your masters and doctorate degrees — which you’ve completed. But now you need a job and a new start, which is why you decided to come home.
You’ve missed Virginia a lot more than you’ll admit. It’s hard not to miss your hometown when you’re gone from it for so long.
“We need a Christmas tree,” you say, as you come back down the stairs. “Christmas is next week, how do you not have a tree up yet?”
“I wasn’t going to get one without you,” your mom says like the fact should’ve been obvious to you.
You laugh as you plop down next to her on the couch. “I know. We should go tomorrow.”
“Whenever you want to,” she smiles, squeezing your arm. “Have you been to your coffee shop yet?”
“My coffee shop?” You raise an eyebrow. “Since when has it been mine?”
“Since you practically lived there during high school,” your mom counters.
She has a point. “Well, no, I haven’t. I just got here.”
“You should go.”
You raise both eyebrows this time, turning your entire body to face her. “What are you doing?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why are you trying to get me to go back there?”
“Why don’t you want to?”
You give her a look. “You know why.”
“I don’t.”
She does. She knows exactly what happened there.
“I’m not repeating it,” you mutter. “And I’ll be finding a new coffee shop, thank you very much.”
“Oh, you can’t let one bad experience stop you from going there!”
“So you do remember!”
“How could I forget? When you were a wreck for months after. I still never forgave him for that, you know.”
You shake your head, settling back against the couch pillows. “It’s been long enough now that I think forgiveness won’t hurt anyone.”
You say that, and yet you don’t want to step foot in that shop ever again.
+++
It was the summer before your junior year. Aaron was a rising senior, so there was the weight of it being his last year already hanging in the air. Especially when he was already looking at a pre-law track for college — meaning he’d be insanely busy after graduation with not much time for you.
Unfortunately, you didn’t realize that his being too busy for you would start before then.
You were a year younger — technically almost two, but the way your birthday fell, you were only one grade younger — but that didn’t stop Aaron from being your friend. At first you thought he had ill intentions (as most older boys in high school did), but he didn’t. He genuinely enjoyed your company, and you genuinely enjoyed his.
More than genuinely. You say now that you don’t believe in love at first sight, but you know that’s because it already happened for you, and you believe it to be a one-time deal.
That one time was when Aaron sat across from you at the lunch table.
You were alone and reading a book. You were a freshman then, and being an extra year younger didn’t exactly help in the whole making friends department. Especially when a lot of your peers were already aware of your age.
But Aaron wasn’t aware, nor did he even care.
He saw that you were alone, and reading, and he decided to sit with you. He wanted to read too, anyway, but he knew he didn’t always like being alone when he read. Something told him you were the same way.
He was correct.
It took almost the entire fall semester before either of you said one word to each other. Sometimes you’d be too engrossed in the book you were reading to even notice he’d sat down in front of you. And when you would finally notice, he would be the one with his nose too deep in the book to notice.
But eventually, you started sharing book recommendations.
Which eventually turned into helping each other with homework. You were always better at math and Spanish than he was (you were already in the sophomore levels of these classes as a freshman), but he was always good with history and English. He must’ve noticed you were in freshman English and history, but he never commented on it — at least not in a way that said he was bullying you.
That winter break was when you started going to the coffee shop together. It was within walking distance of the high school, so the two of you would go at the end of the day until your parents could pick you up. Sometimes your mom would drive him home, or vice versa.
And when Aaron got his license, he’d drive you both there and drop you off at home.
The two of you were inseparable. Almost literally.
Until Aaron met Haley.
Haley was in theatre. She was everything you weren’t. Aaron’s age, pretty, funny, outgoing, and worst of all: popular.
You watched your best friend fall in love.
And that wouldn’t have hurt as bad as it did if it wasn’t Haley he was falling for.
You kept your feelings for Aaron quiet, even to your mom — though you found out later that she always knew. You had almost thought he felt the same, or that he might be beginning to, and then suddenly he was talking about some girl named Haley.
Only she wasn’t just “some girl” to him, or even to you. Everyone knew Haley Brooks.
Slowly, your lunch table conversations were less about what the two of you were going to do the coming weekend, and more about Haley. How he was going to get her to notice him (join theatre, even though he never liked theatre before her). How he was going to ask her on a date (it wouldn’t be a date at first, just dinner after theatre rehearsal, that ended up being with the entire cast, but he sat next to her). How he was going to win her over (he brought flowers to the first performance and surprised her backstage). How he was going to ask her to be his girlfriend (that was the same night as the flowers, completely unplanned, but she said yes).
How he thought he might want to marry her one day.
The last hurt most of all. He confessed it to you one night out of the blue as he was driving you home after school. You knew you could handle him being in love with someone else. Some sick part of you knew — or hoped, rather — that the relationship wouldn’t last. What high school relationship lasts longer than a few months, anyway?
But when Aaron fell for Haley, he fell completely. And hard.
He started cancelling plans with you to spend time with Haley — before they were even dating. When they were dating, he stopped making plans with you altogether.
Then came the summer before his senior year.
It had been months since you saw him last. You had a new lunch period the second half of the year because one of your favorite teachers asked for help during the period, which meant you didn’t have lunch with Aaron — but you don’t even think he noticed.
June came and went. The two of you barely saw one another, barely talked when you did. But when you did, you clung to those moments like they were your only lifeline. In a way, they were.
July finally came and he actually made plans to see you. He said he wanted to get coffee again, catch up, hang out for a few hours, sit in silence, even, whatever you wanted. You were excited.
Some part of you thought that he had broken up with Haley — wishful thinking, but you were sixteen and in love, what else were you supposed to think?
But he hadn’t broken up with her. They were very much in love. You know. You witnessed it.
Apparently, Haley didn’t like the idea of Aaron getting coffee and lunch alone with a female friend. So, she took it upon herself to tag along.
You saw them sharing a kiss through the window, Aaron’s back facing you. When they pulled away, Haley’s eyes caught yours, but she said nothing to Aaron, just pulled him back in for another kiss.
You didn’t go into the shop that day. And you haven’t since.
The last time you saw Aaron was the day before he moved to college. He was stopping by to say goodbye to you.
You were reading a book in your room, and your eyes caught the movement on the driveway. You told your mom to say you weren’t home.
You watched him leave from your bedroom window, hands stuffed in his pockets.
+++
You heard that Aaron and Haley got married. Not because you wanted to hear, but because your mom told you. She probably meant well, but you drank an entire bottle of wine that night. You weren’t even 21 yet at the time.
Of course, it’s been years since then. You’re all fine now, and you’ve got the student loan debt to prove it.
But even with three degrees, job hunting can be a bitch. Especially this time of year.
You need coffee.
You blame the fact that this coffee shop is the best one around. And the fact that it’s Christmas season, meaning they have your favorite drink again.
Dark chocolate peppermint mocha. It’s a godsend. And you haven’t had one in years.
Well, you have. But they haven’t been from here. They haven’t had this shop’s specially made peppermint whipped cream, or the peppermint stick that can be used to stir.
You hate how much you have to psych yourself up before you walk inside. You don’t even know where Aaron is these days or what he’s doing. He could be halfway across the country for all you know.
So, with that fact in mind, you walk inside. You embrace the familiar sight and smells, remembering what it felt like the last time you were here.
You move toward the counter, falling in the short line to the register. And your stomach flips when you see a familiar face standing in front of you.
Well, his back is facing you, so you don’t see his face, but you know it’s him. There’s this thing about first loves. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been since the last time you’ve seen them. You’ll always recognize everything about them. The back of their head, their shoulders, their hands, the way they walk.
Their voice. Even if it’s deeper than the last time you heard it.
Maybe he won’t recognize me.
But what you don’t know is that no amount of time could pass to make you unrecognizable to Aaron.
Or that he saw your reflection in the glass case next to him when you got in line, and he’s been internally trying to figure out what the hell to say to you since.
If it hadn’t been for his voice, you wouldn’t have recognized Aaron at all. A black coffee? That’s it?
The barista pours it and slides it over to him before he’s even done paying. He’s at a coffee shop -- this coffee shop, and he orders a black coffee?
Who is he?
You step up to the register as he steps away, and you swear you see him looking at you through the corner of your eyes. But you must be seeing things because why would he do that?
You focus on ordering -- a medium peppermint mocha, complete with the whipped cream and peppermint stick. After paying, you step to the side to wait for your coffee.
You nearly knock right into Aaron, but you stop yourself, well aware of his presence.
Another thing about first loves: you’re always painfully aware of their presence.
“Hi,” he says, awkward and fumbling even though it’s only one word. He’s wearing a stuffy suit and tie, which seems odd, but you’re positive that’s just normal lawyer attire. He probably lives in a suit these days. His hair is shorter than it used to be and he looks older, but so do you. Despite all of this, he’s still Aaron. He’s still the same Aaron Hotchner you fell in love with at sixteen.
“Hi,” you return the awkward smile, tugging on the strap of your purse. After a beat, you nod toward his drink. “Black coffee, huh?” You try to tease. “Who hurt you?”
He laughs loudly then, shoulders and head shaking. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too, Hotchner,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around yourself.
The conversation dies for a moment, so you busy yourself by looking at the different cakes and pastries in the glass case. You probably should’ve gotten one, but maybe another time.
Another time. Fifteen minutes ago you wouldn’t be caught dead in this shop and now you’re already thinking about another time.
“Are you busy?” Aaron suddenly asks, prompting you to look at him with furrowed brows. “Do you mind if I join you?”
“Not at all,” you smile gently, knowing you might regret this later. But it’s been over a decade since you’ve seen him last. One coffee won’t hurt.
And I’m over him, you remind yourself, no matter how untrue it might be.
Once you have your peppermint mocha -- finally, you think, it’s been too long -- you walk with Aaron to find a table. A lot has changed about this shop, but one thing that hasn’t (because there isn’t much that can be changed) is the seating.
Aaron leads you to your old table. The table the two of you practically lived at.
It makes your heart warm and ache all at once. The drink you decided to order isn’t helping matters either.
“So…” You pause, shifting in your seat. “What are you up to these days?”
“You stole my question,” he jokes.
“Tough,” you smile into your drink. “I asked it first.”
He chuckles, but answers anyway. “I’m working for the BAU now.”
“The B-A-What?”
“The-- FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit.”
Your eyes widen. “Did you… Did you really just say you’re working for the FBI?”
“I think so,” he says. “I’m the unit chief.”
“You’re the-- Okay. So, you don’t work for the...the BAU, they work for you.”
“We’re a team,” he offers.
“Said every boss ever,” you quip, taking a long drink of your mocha. You take the peppermint stick in between your fingers and stir, eyebrows furrowing down at the swirl of coffee and whipped cream. “So...what do you do exactly?”
He opens his mouth to answer, then stops, hesitating. “Do you really want to know?”
You give him a look. “Of course I do.”
“It’s not great.”
“Aaron, just tell me, or I’ll start reciting my dissertation word for word.” Your statement stuns him to silence, so badly that you almost laugh. “That’s boring. Working for the FBI can’t possibly be boring.”
“Oh, it’s never boring, that’s for sure,” he mutters. “We profile serial killers.”
“You what?”
He laughs. “We look at their behaviors and crimes and build a profile, what they might look like, their age, that stuff.”
“Intriguing.”
“I can’t believe you’re interested.”
“I can’t believe you thought I wouldn’t be,” you counter. “You know I thrive off this stuff.”
“I remember,” he says quietly.
And just like that, you remember, too.
It’s so easy to forget about all the hurt he caused, all the pain he left behind. Especially because you know he never intended to hurt you. He would never do that, not to you, not on purpose. You never told him how you felt. It’s not his fault he couldn’t read your mind.
“Well, you’ve got a doctorate,” he says, shifting the conversation. “What else are you up to?”
“How did you know it’s a doctorate?” You raise an eyebrow. “Are you profiling me? Did I use that correctly?”
“Yes,” he smiles. “And no, not intentionally. You said you’d recite your dissertation. Those are normally written to get doctorate degrees. You always wanted one, I assumed you met your goal.”
“You assume correct,” you nod. “I’m back to start job and apartment hunting, but after the new year. I wanted to spend some time with my mom.”
“How is she doing?”
“She’s good, she--” You pause, shaking your head with a laugh. “She actually brought you up yesterday.”
“Me?” Aaron looks genuinely shocked.
“Yeah, you,” you knock your foot against his leg without thinking, but you pay no mind, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention to it. “She’s actually the one who put the bug in my ear to come here.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I haven’t been back here since…”
It takes him a moment, but he nods slowly. “Right.”
“Yeah,” you draw your legs closer to you on instinct. “But that was a long time ago. How are you and Haley?”
You don’t expect the way his face falls. You glance down at his left hand. No ring.
“We got a divorce a few years ago, split up about a good year before that,” Aaron explains. “She’s good, last I heard. Remarried already.”
“Wow,” you murmur, not knowing what else to say. “What-- I mean, what happened?” When he hesitates, you backpedal. “Sorry, I shouldn’t even ask, it’s probably a sensitive question.”
“It’s okay,” Aaron chuckles. “I don’t mind talking about it with you.”
That sends a dangerous flutter through your stomach. “Okay. Well I’m all ears.”
“Oh, it’s not a long story, it was just my job,” he shrugs. “I took the unit chief position and she was happy at first. But then, there was a period of time where we had what felt like case after case after case.” He shakes his head. “I was barely home, but I was barely in one state for long, anyway. It was a stressful time. We were everywhere at once.”
“That does sound stressful,” you frown. “Has it slowed down now?”
“Kind of, it has its moments,” he admits. “But being gone so much, it took a toll on her. She wanted to start a family, but said she couldn’t do that if I was never there.”
“But I mean she had to have known how your schedule would be with the new job, right?”
“Yeah,” he says, then shrugs. “It’s been so long now that I stopped trying to understand her thought process.”
“I get that,” you say sincerely. You understand not wanting to waste energy on something like that anymore. Sometimes you just have to give it up and have peace with the fact that you’ll never understand.
“What about you?” He asks suddenly, catching you off guard. “Seeing anyone?” He adds it quietly, like he’s shy.
Aaron Hotchner. Shy. Around you.
“Oh,” you nearly laugh at the prospect. “No. No, I’m not. Do you really think I would be if I was moving back in with my mom?”
He laughs, bringing his coffee to his lips. “You have a point there.”
A comforting silence settles over the two of you after that.
You shouldn’t feel slightly giddy that his and Haley’s relationship didn’t work out in the end. You’re over him by now, anyway. But something about being right has you fighting a smile. You smother the urge, though, knowing he probably doesn’t want to hear anyone, let alone you, say, “I told you so.”
You do feel bad for him, genuinely. Divorce is never easy for anyone, and you hate he went through that. Especially like that. Haley knew his work schedule would change. Why would she act supportive if she knew this in advance? Just sits uneasy with you, that’s all.
Of course, you feel that overprotective-best-friend nature coming back to you.
“What plans do you have now that you’re back?” He asks, keeping the conversation up, but you can tell he’s earnest — which makes you smile.
“Nothing, really. My mom and I are getting a Christmas tree later, but that’s all I have on my schedule.” You pause, giving him another look. “We both know you were my only friend in high school. Who do you think I’m going to see while I’m here?”
“Hopefully a lot of me,” he replies easily, smiling around his coffee.
And for once, you don’t hesitate to reply. “I hope so, too, actually. I didn’t think you were still around here. And I really didn’t expect you to be working for the FBI.”
“This might be presumptuous of me, but what are you doing this weekend?” He asks, quickly adding on, “A good friend of mine is hosting a Christmas party for the team, and I’ve basically been threatened to bring a plus one.”
“Threatened, huh?” You raise an eyebrow.
He nods seriously. “They won’t let me inside without one.”
You gasp comically, keeping up the act. “Well you can’t miss the party!”
“I know,” he sighs, propping his head in his hand.
“Well, I guess I’ll just have to come with,” you say, still deadly serious.
But Aaron’s lips split into a grin the same time yours does. “It’s this Saturday.”
“Lucky for you, I’m free.”
He doesn’t stop grinning. “I can pick you up, if you want.”
“Yeah, I’d love that,” you say. “I should probably give you my number, shouldn’t I?”
“I was going to ask,” he admits.
You roll your eyes playfully. “I figured.”
After exchanging numbers, the two of you return to your idle conversations. Only, they’re less idle than they ever have been before.
He vents about still not understanding how people can be capable of the things he sees. How he knows that everyone is capable of unspeakable things, but it’s how they do it that still makes him stumble sometimes. And you try to sympathize, though you know you can’t. But still you tell him not to try to understand.
“You’re a good man,” you say. “You’re not going to understand it because you’re not like them.”
“Thank you,” he whispers. “I know that, consciously. Sometimes it’s good to hear it from someone else.”
Then he tells you it’s your turn, and again, you don’t feel the need to hesitate.
You tell him how you weren’t planning on moving back here at all. But the job market where you were didn’t...fit you, for some reason. You never felt like you belonged, and so maybe that’s why you wanted to come back here.
Because even though you left this place heartbroken, you still felt like you belonged when you were here. You felt like you belonged when you were with him, but you don’t tell him that.
Something tells you he heard it anyway, though. Being a profiler and all. Which you still don’t quite understand, but you’re sure he’ll have plenty of time to tell you in the coming future.
+++
After an hour or two, you decide it’s time for you to head back home. Partly because you need to make some lunch for yourself, and partly because you’ve watched Aaron dismiss at least three phone calls in the last twenty minutes.
But he didn’t say a word each time, so you know he won’t tell you who it is or if he needs to go. It makes your heart warm at the thought that he wants to spend more time with you, but if it’s his job, then he needs to go.
He walks you to your car and you hug him around his neck, unashamedly taking a deep breath of his cologne when you stretch up to wrap your arms around him. He didn’t wear cologne back in high school. But this one smells good.
You mentally prepare yourself on the way home for the amount of questions your mom is no doubt going to ask.
You’re supposed to be going to pick out a tree with her today, which means you were supposed to be home a little earlier than this, which means your mom probably already knows what happened and you won’t even get a chance to explain yourself.
In the end, your prediction was correct.
“How was your peppermint mocha?” You glance over to the couch and find your mom sitting there, idly reading a book.
The question is as directly indirect as they come. You raise an eyebrow and kick the front door closed (yes, she asked before you even stepped foot inside the house). “It was good,” you reply, shrugging your jacket off your shoulders. “Why?”
“Oh, you enjoyed it for almost two hours, so I was just wondering.” Your mom fights back a grin, but she’s not doing a very good job.
You sigh. “Just go ahead and ask.”
She closes her book. “Alright, fine, I will. How is Aaron?”
There it is.
“He’s good,” you answer rather pointedly, making your way into the living room. “He’s working for the FBI now.”
“Oh, I knew that already.”
You plop down next to her on the couch. “Seriously?”
“Of course!” She cries, like it should be obvious. “Small talk happens when you see someone in the store.”
“Right,” you scoff. “Anyway, thanks for not telling me him and Haley divorced.”
She grimaces.
“Yeah, exactly,” you nod at her expression. “That’s how I felt. I bet it was just awesome of me to ask about how him and his ex-wife are doing.”
“I’m sorry,” your mom says. “It completely slipped my mind. It’s been so long since those two split.”
“Why didn’t you tell me when it happened?”
“Because I didn’t want to bring him up,” she answers sincerely. “You seemed like you had really moved on. I figured it didn’t matter, and I didn’t want to make you start thinking about him again when you had finally gotten over it all.”
“Oh,” you murmur. “Well, thank you, then, but...still. I feel like an idiot.”
“Did he seem angry when you asked?”
“No, the opposite,” you sigh. “He explained what happened and I let him talk about it for a second, but he seems mostly moved on from it.”
“I don’t know how he can be,” your mom scoffs. “She’s already remarried, you know.”
“Yeah, he told me.”
Your mom shakes her head. “I should’ve shook some sense into that boy when he came to say goodbye that day.” Then she pauses, poking your leg. “And I should’ve made you say goodbye to him. I’ll never forgive myself for that.”
“I didn’t wanna talk to him,” you shrug. “We barely had all year, anyway. And one goodbye would not have stopped him from going to college and marrying Haley, you know that.”
“Yeah, I know.” She sighs. “It’s fun to think about, though.”
“Well stop thinking about it,” you mutter. “We are friends and he’s probably seeing someone by now. I don’t even know how long I’ll be here, so.”
Your mom raises her eyebrows. “I never said anything about what you guys are now.”
Damn. Caught. “I know, but I’m just...catching you before you do.”
“Mmm, more like catching yourself.”
“Shut up.”
She lightly hits you with a pillow. “Don’t say that to your mother,” she jokes. “Especially not when I’m right and you know it.”
“Yeah, yeah. Are you ready to pick out a tree?”
“Of course,” she replies. “Just let me find my shoes.”
While she’s getting ready -- because “finding her shoes” really means fixing her hair and makeup and changing outfits a couple times -- you get a text from Aaron.
Aaron: It was nice catching up with you today
You smile and type your reply. Ditto. We should do it again sometime.
He doesn’t reply, but you figure he’s busy at work, anyway. And you’ve got a tree to pick out and decorate, so you’re technically busy, too.
You try not to think too much about it.
+++
And truthfully, you don’t think much about it, until Aaron finally replies. It’s hours later when you’re decorating the freshly-cut Christmas tree in the living room, with Michael Bublé’s Christmas album playing through the stereo speakers. It’s just like when you were younger.
You check your phone and see that it’s Aaron texting you back, but you pocket it before reading the message. You’re busy.
Your mom notices the change on your face. “Everything alright?” She asks as she places a snowflake ornament on one of the smaller branches.
You nod without thinking, hating yourself for even feeling what you’re feeling right now. A glittery red ornament hangs from your index finger as you try to find the right branch to hang it on -- and while your mind wanders all over the place.
“Clearly not,” your mom replies. “But alright.” She turns and reaches into a different box, picking up one of the golden jingle bells that she always hides deep within the tree each year. When you were younger, she’d hide them without you seeing, and then on Christmas Eve you’d have to search the tree for them before you could open one present before going to sleep.
You snort a laugh, always loving her way of getting you to open up: sarcasm. “It’s just Aaron.”
“Aaron?”
“Texting me,” you explain, looking down at the glitter coating your fingertips from the ornaments.
“Aren’t you going to reply?” She asks, grabbing another jingle bell.
“Technically he’s the one replying from earlier today.”
“Okay…”
You sigh. Time to cave. “He invited me to a Christmas party this weekend.”
Your mom doesn’t even try to hide her excitement or her wide grin. “Really? That’s great!”
Is it? You want to ask, but you stop yourself. “Yeah,” you shrug. “I guess so. It’ll be nice to hang out with him more.” You pause, finally hanging the small glittery red ornament on the tree that you’ve been idly holding for the past two minutes. “Apparently a friend of his is hosting it and basically told him he wouldn’t be allowed inside without a plus one.” You chuckle quietly, knowing Aaron had to have rolled his eyes when his friend told him that.
“So it’s...a date, then?”
“What? No,” you shake your head. “No, no. Not a date. He didn’t phrase it that way.”
“Sweetheart, plus one implies date.”
“Who says?”
“Everyone!” Your mom laughs. “Bringing a plus one to a wedding is usually a casual date, if not bringing your significant other along.”
“This isn’t a wedding, it’s just a Christmas get together.”
“Same difference.”
“Well, I think you’re doing that thing again where you try to plant seeds in my brain for things that are unnecessary,” you raise an eyebrow at her when she avoids eye contact, so you know you’ve caught her red-handed. “All that aside,” you sigh. “I’m over him. It’s been so long. If something was going to happen, it would have already.”
“Whatever you say,” she shrugs indifferently, grabbing the final jingle bell to hide in the top of the tree. For a brief moment, you wish you hadn’t been watching where she hid them, so you could do the search on Christmas Eve one more time.
+++
You bump into Aaron one more time, two days later, at the same coffee shop.
“Back for more?” He teases as he slides into the seat across from you, another black coffee in his right hand.
You’re sitting at the table the two of you call home with yet another peppermint mocha sitting in front of you and your laptop. More job hunting is the task for today, even though you’re ready to give up and just pick it back up after the New Year. It’s not like your mom is making you pay rent, and you have enough in savings to help with groceries (without her knowledge, of course, because she refuses to let you pay for anything) and buy your own coffees. But, you decided to give it one last go today.
That is, until Aaron slid into the seat in front of you. Now, you close your laptop and place it back in your bag. “Just needed some fuel for more job hunting,” you grin. “What are you doing here?”
“I took off for lunch for once and thought I might find you here.”
“Oh?” You raise your eyebrows. “Were you seeking me out, Hotchner?”
“Maybe a little,” he admits with a shy smile. “Are you still good for tomorrow?”
“As long as you are,” you nod. “What time?”
“I’ll pick you up at five, if that’s good?”
“Perfect,” you smile. “Are you ready to introduce me to your friends?”
“Depends,” he exhales exasperatedly. “Are you ready to meet them?”
“They can’t be that bad.”
“They might be. If you aren’t used to them.” He pauses. “They don’t know you’re coming, by the way.”
“What?” You almost laugh. “Why not?”
“I told them I was bringing someone, but I didn’t feel like hearing it all week about who I was bringing.” He pauses again, like he’s holding something back, and then he lets it out. “They know all about you.”
You blink. “They do?”
“Yeah,” he smiles gently. “I talk about you all the time.”
“No,” you shake your head. “No you don’t. There’s no way.”
“You’ll believe it tomorrow,” he chuckles. “I’m sure they’ll try to embarrass me.”
“I-I mean...what do you even say about me?”
He shrugs. “That you were my best friend in high school and...that I missed you and wondered what you were up to these days, and how we used to hang out here.” He looks around the shop, then back to you and your bewildered expression. “What?” He laughs. “You didn’t talk to your friends about me?”
“No, I did,” you laugh quietly. But I said different things. And most of the time I was crying because I missed you, especially my first year of college when my roommate tried to get me to go on a double date with her boyfriend and his roommate, but I refused and had to confess that I wasn’t over you and that you broke my heart, and I was such a mess that she brought ice cream and chocolate back after their date.
But you don’t say any of that. Obviously.
“I just didn’t expect you to even...think about me, I guess,” you finally spit out, still shaking your head. “I mean...we haven’t talked since high school, I figured you’d forgotten or moved on, at least. Especially since you had Haley.”
Aaron’s expression softens and turns sad, quickly. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I didn’t know you thought any of that.”
“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” you wave his worry away. “It’s years ago. Water under the bridge.”
“Yeah,” he agrees. Then, he says, “Haley was jealous of you, you know.”
You immediately look up from your mocha, your eyes wide in shock. “She was what?”
“Oh yeah,” Aaron laughs. “Devastatingly jealous of you. She swore we were dating or that I was in love with you or something.”
Or something. “Wow,” you chuckle, trying to mask your hurt as much as possible. “Why did she even think that?”
You know why. You know exactly why. Because before her, you and Aaron were attached at the hip. You sat together during lunch, walked each other home, hung out at the coffee shop, went to school functions together (well, you’d actually go with a big group, but you two always ended up together anyway), and so on and so forth. Anyone would’ve been an idiot to not assume you two were dating.
“We were so close,” he shrugs. “She said she was so surprised when I asked her to be my girlfriend because she swore I was dating you. She actually asked me that, when I gave her the flowers. She said, “What about Y/N?” And I said, “Y/N? She’s just my best friend.” And she didn’t believe me.”
“That’s so crazy,” you say, but you’re really thinking back to that day you and Aaron had decided to meet up here and hang out after so long. When Haley crashed the hangout. When she locked eyes with you and smirked before pulling him back in for another kiss.
She was jealous. She was jealous and she knew exactly what she was doing that day.
Aaron’s phone starts ringing and he sighs heavily, pulling it out. He almost declines it, but then stops himself. “It’s the boss,” he says. “My boss. I’ve gotta take this. I’ll text you later?”
“Sure,” you smile, knowing he might forget or get too busy to think about it. But that’s okay. “Good luck with the phone call.”
“Thanks,” he chuckles. “I’ll need it.” And then he brings his phone up to his ear. “Agent Hotchner,” he says, and you hate that you find it so hot.
+++
You almost cancel with Aaron a dozen times before 2p.m.
You blame the conversation the two of you had yesterday. For some reason, the thought of Haley being jealous of you had never crossed your mind. Because to you, it was so obviously the other way around. Of course, you weren’t vocal about your jealousy, but you were certain she knew. Not that it was the other way around.
Old feelings have already resurfaced, which is bad enough, but the talk about Haley and about how Aaron’s friends know all about you made things worse. Especially the latter.
Why would he talk about you so much if the two of you hadn’t spoken in years? Not even years, but like an entire decade. Why would he still talk about you and think about you that much?
You have dwelled over those questions since he left the coffee shop yesterday.
But now, you have no idea what to wear, and Aaron will be here any minute. You’re assuming the attire is casual, not fancy, since it’s just a get together with his friends -- who all happen to be his team of agents. FBI agents. Because he’s just casually the Unit Chief of the BAU.
It still baffles you. He wanted to be a lawyer. Not in the FBI. God.
He’s still your Aaron. That’s what shocks you the most. He’s experienced law school, marriage, practicing law, working for the FBI, becoming a Unit Chief, divorce, and yet he’s still the Aaron Hotchner you were best friends with in high school.
You wonder if you’re still the girl he was best friends with in high school. Or if you’ve changed so drastically that he doesn’t see you that way anymore.
You take a deep breath, going back to digging through the many boxes of clothes that you have yet to unpack. You need a sweater or something. That’s safe enough, right? It’s too cold for a dress, and frankly, you’re not in the mood for wearing one, anyway.
Finally, you find the sweater you were looking for. You tug it over your head, figuring your jeans are fine enough. You’ll wear some low heels to make it look like you put in a little more effort.
Your quick thinking is to your benefit because the doorbell rings almost as soon as you’re done doing the clasp on your second heel.
But because your mom is quicker than you, she’s already opened the door and let Aaron in before you can make it downstairs. And by the time you are coming down the stairs, Aaron is sitting on the couch with your mom, making idle conversation.
“Hey,” you smile at him, resisting the urge to glare at your mom. “Ready?”
“If you are,” he nods, standing to his feet.
When he turns, you shoot your mom a look. “We’ll be back later.”
“You’re not in high school,” your mom laughs. “You two have fun for as long as you like.”
“I know,” you say. “But I also know you’ll wait up until I get back.”
“And you can’t stop me,” she replies pointedly.
Aaron laughs at the two of you, your banter just as he remembers from all those years ago. Neither of you have changed one bit.
After a final moment of bickering, you bid your mom goodbye and leave with Aaron.
In the car, you ask, “Have you told them about me coming yet?”
From the driver’s seat, he shakes his head. “No, so prepare yourself for a lot of questions.”
“I think you’re the one that’ll be in hot water, but alright,” you chuckle. “I can hear them now. ‘Why didn’t you tell us you were bringing her!’”
He laughs loudly. “That’s not a bad impression, actually.”
“Why, thank you,” you smirk. “It’s a hidden talent of mine.”
“Oh, really?”
“Mhm.”
The two of you share a grin as he keeps driving.
+++
After some time -- long enough that you were beginning to wonder where he’s taking you -- Aaron finally turns into a subdivision. But it’s still not what you were expecting.
You assumed FBI agents must make good money, but not this good. This is a mansion. It’s massive. There has to be at least six bedrooms in there, maybe more.
“Is your friend a millionaire or something?”
Aaron chuckles, “Maybe. Probably. Maybe more.”
“More?” Your eyes widen. “Wow.” And then Aaron pulls into the driveway. “Wow.”
He puts the car in park and says, “Try not to look too surprised. Dave won’t shut up about the house if you get him started.”
“What if I want to hear everything?” You ask, scrambling out of the car to look up at the house. “Jesus Christ.” Then you whip your head around to look at Aaron exasperatedly. “Does your house look like this?”
“No, no,” he shakes his head. “No. This is too big. Dave’s crazy for buying it.”
“He’s definitely insane,” you nod. “I mean, what do you even need a house this big for?”
Aaron shrugs. “Christmas parties, I guess.” He pauses, holding out his arm for you. “Ready to face the lions?”
You roll your eyes through a laugh, loosely holding onto his arm. “Quit being so dramatic. I bet it’ll be just fine.”
“Let’s hope so,” Aaron replies. Because truthfully, he is a little worried that they might scare you off. They have a habit of doing that.
The two of you walk up to the front door, and you try your best to act like you’ve been in the general vicinity of a house this big before. Dave must be a really good friend of Aaron’s, because instead of knocking or ringing the doorbell, Aaron twists the doorknob and walks right in with you on his arm.
“Dave’s making pasta,” Aaron whispers, smelling the air. He shuts the door gently, wanting to surprise the team as much as possible.
You sniff the air, too, smiling happily. “Smells really good. Is that carbonara?”
“Good nose,” a voice says from the kitchen.
“That’s Dave,” Aaron chuckles, walking you down the hall toward the smell.
The team’s eyes all widen dramatically and comically when Aaron Hotchner steps inside the kitchen with a woman on his arm.
“Well, hello,” one of them says, sliding off the stool at the counter to saunter over to you. He’s all suave and swagger.
“Derek Morgan, this is Y/N,” Aaron introduces you quickly, knowing the reaction your name will get.
“Hold up,” Derek pauses, glancing between you and Aaron. “Y/N? As in the Y/N?”
“I don’t know about being the Y/N, but that is my name,” you laugh. “Nice to meet you.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” Derek says, a hand over his heart to add to the sincerity. “Where have you been hiding all this time?”
“Getting a doctorate,” you shrug, only now realizing that your hand is still holding onto Aaron’s arm, but he doesn’t seem fazed by it either, so you don’t move.
“Oh, alright,” Derek chuckles. “Hey Reid, we’ve got another doctor here.”
The man in question, Reid, looks up from the book he was reading with furrowed eyebrows. “Hi.” He waves.
“Hey,” you wave back. “What’re you reading?”
“War and Peace. In Russian, though.”
“In-- Wow, okay.”
“He’s a genius,” Morgan explains.
“I see that,” you chuckle.
Aaron finishes the introductions for you. “That’s JJ, handles the press for us because none of us want to do it.”
“He’s not wrong,” JJ replies with a laugh. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”
“You too,” you smile.
“You met Reid, his first name’s Spencer,” Aaron supplies, and Reid is too far gone in the book again to notice. “This is Emily Prentiss.”
“And I have been dying to meet you,” Emily says. “You are exactly how he described.”
“In a good way, I hope?” You laugh nervously.
She nods. “Definitely.”
Aaron points to the other woman at the counter. She’s dressed in all sorts of crazy colors with glasses that match her outfit. And before he can introduce her, she says, “I’m Penelope Garcia, technology extraordinaire. I keep them out of trouble.”
“And we love you for it,” Derek adds.
“And this is Dave,” Aaron finishes.
“It is very nice to finally meet you,” Dave says, and actually shakes your hand. “Do you know how to make carbonara?”
“Yes, actually,” you say, earning a surprised look from Aaron. “I went through a phase when I was younger, wanting to make anything and everything that sounded good, so I’ve made this a few times. My mom loves it.”
Dave loves the sound of that. “Would you like to help me?”
You practically light up inside and out. “Seriously? I’d love to!”
“Oh, here we go,” Derek groans. “He’s roped her in.”
You ignore him, slipping away from Aaron to grab the other apron off the hook by the entrance to the kitchen. You slide your head through the loop and tie it at the back in a matter of seconds, too excited to contain it.
“I almost went to culinary school, you know,” you say to no one in particular, but Aaron is listening, and so is Dave.
“Why didn’t you?” Aaron asks.
You shrug. “Didn’t seem practical.” Which isn’t the real answer at all. The real answer is you got your heart broken and needed to do a complete 180 in life, so you did. Culinary school was out. Getting a doctorate was in. You turn on the water in the sink and begin washing your hands. “What do you need me to do?”
For the next hour, you help Dave make the carbonara, occasionally answering any questions Aaron’s friends have for you.
Aaron pours you a glass of wine and sits at the counter, watching you cook. You look more at peace than he’s seen you since a few days ago when he first bumped into you again.
You catch him looking at you more than a handful of times. It feels good. Spending the evening with his friends, his team, with him. You’ve missed spending time with him more than anything else.
Dave serves up the carbonara, telling you to sit down since you helped so much already. You don’t make him ask twice.
+++
After dinner, everyone moves into the living room, scattering on the various couches and chairs. Reid has finished reading War and Peace, so the book sits discarded on one of the coffee tables.
You take the spot on the couch next to Aaron, careful not to spill your wine. Penelope sits on the other side of you, with Derek on her other side, which all but forces you to move closer to Aaron, and something about the look on Penelope’s face tells you it was done on purpose.
You’re not exactly complaining, though. With a full stomach and a fresh glass of wine, Aaron’s presence is even warmer than before. You pay no mind when he shifts his left arm, stretching it over the back of the couch and allowing you to scoot closer, your legs pressed against each other’s.
The conversation continues, and somehow the subject of relationships is brought up.
“Yeah, why was I the only one asked to bring someone?” Aaron asks. “I’d like to see all of you find a last minute date.”
Another warm rush goes through your body at the word date. This is a date. Alright then.
“I think you did just fine,” Dave says, nodding to you. “Don’t you?”
You shrug, not sure of what to make of it. “I’m having fun, so I guess so.”
“See?” Dave gives Aaron a look. “You did fine.”
Aaron gives his friend a tired glare. “Only because she happened to be back from getting her degrees. Otherwise, I would’ve been stuck.”
“Nah, man, you could’ve called Beth.”
You feel Aaron tense next to you, but you aren’t sure if he tensed up or if you did. Maybe both. Probably both. You weren’t aware there was someone else.
“Who’s Beth?” You ask as casually as possible, ignoring the heated glares Penelope, JJ, and Emily alike are sending Derek. Seriously, Derek would be dead three times over right now if looks could be deadly.
Aaron shrugs before answering you. “Her and I dated briefly last year.”
You nod slowly, trying not to seem hurt or upset or anything by this because it’s ridiculous of you to be fighting back tears, but you can’t help it.
It’s high school, goddamnit, it’s fucking high school all over again.
The topic of conversation shifts thanks to Reid being the endless supplier of random facts. One question about Russian from Emily and he’s taking over, washing the awkwardness away in two languages.
Unfortunately, it doesn’t work as well for you as it does for everyone else.
You set your wine glass down on the table and tell Penelope you’re going to use the bathroom. You have no clue where it is, but she doesn’t know that.
Aaron does. And Aaron hears the tone of voice you use.
He waits until you’re down the hall before he stands to follow you, foregoing any explanation to his friends. They already know what he’s doing.
Aaron’s suspicions are correct when he hears the front door close and sees your coat no longer hanging next to his on the hook by the door. He grabs his and only gets one arm through a sleeve before he’s opening the door, eyes searching the premises for you.
Thankfully, he finds you after two seconds, and his racing heart slows a little. You’re standing by the reindeer lights on Dave’s front lawn. Your coat is only hanging on your shoulders, something you’ve always done since high school when you were upset.
“It feels more like a blanket,” you had told him one day. “Blankets are more comforting than jackets.”
He doesn’t see the difference, but you do, and that was enough for him.
He has both arms through the sleeves by the time he’s next to you. He gently touches your arm to get your attention, adding a soft, “Hey,” for good measure.
You turn your head at the sound, having already known he was coming because you heard the front door open. In the back of your mind, you had wanted him to follow you out here, but now that he’s done it, you aren’t so sure this is what you wanted.
You wanted to ignore the feeling. Get it to disappear on its own. Survive the night, then never talk to him again. You were heartbroken, but it was better when you weren’t speaking to him. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.
“I’m sorry,” Aaron says softly. “Beth and I haven’t spoken since our last date a year ago. It was only three dates. We weren’t serious at all.” He pauses. “I have no idea why Derek said that. He doesn’t think before he speaks sometimes.”
You nod, not having it in you to laugh at Aaron’s small jab, even though he is entirely correct. Derek is a quick thinker with a sharp wit, but you can see how it might backfire sometimes. Like tonight.
You believe Aaron, you really do. But it’s so hard. “Did you love her?”
Aaron is stunned for a moment, but says, “No. I don’t think I did.”
“Okay.” You shake your head, looking down at the grass. “I’m just trying to figure out why Derek would’ve brought her up if...if you guys dated so briefly.”
Aaron sighs. “I don’t know.”
“And is this a date?” You blurt, finally finding the courage to get that one out. “Because if it is, I…I don’t know.”
“Don’t know what?”
You shake your head again, trying to find the right words, but they always seem out of reach. “Just...tell me this won’t be like high school.”
This time Aaron is too stunned to form a real answer. “What?”
“Please,” you sound like you’re about to cry and you feel so pathetic that you wish you had never agreed to come tonight. But you’re here anyway. “I was in love with you then, and I’m still in love with you now, but I can’t do that again. So if this is a just friends thing and always will be, I need you to tell me before I hurt myself all over again.”
Aaron can’t believe his ears. He swears he heard you wrong. He must have. “You were in love with me in high school, too?”
“Yes-- Wait, too? What do you mean too?” Now you’re looking at him, eyes wide in confusion, shock, every emotion possible. “Too?”
“I was in love with you, Y/N,” he chuckles, reaching for your hands. “I thought you just saw me as an older brother. That’s why I never...said anything.”
“What?” You breathe, letting him thread his fingers through yours. “Are you serious? You better not be pulling my leg, Hotchner. Don’t do that to me.” You tug on his hands for emphasis, giving him a stern look.
“I’m not joking,” he says, taking a step closer. “I wouldn’t joke about this.”
“Oh my god,” you say, disbelief a powerful thief of words. “I can’t believe… So you went after Haley because…”
“Because I heard from one of her friends that she had a crush on me,” he admits. “I did love her, but not as much as I loved you. Never as much as I loved you.”
You don’t know what else to do or say. He looks so beautiful in this light that it hurts, and now he’s saying words you never thought you’d ever hear.
“Do you forgive me?” He asks. “For breaking your heart?”
“Only if you forgive me for breaking yours,” you whisper.
He shakes his head. “I broke my own. I should’ve told you how I felt.” He pauses. “I even talked to you about Haley all the time. Is that why you didn’t say goodbye to me?”
You nod. “It sounds so stupid now, but I was so hurt.”
“I’m an idiot,” he laughs. “I’m the dumbest fool to ever walk the Earth.”
“We both are,” you correct him, taking a step closer. It’s cold out here, but he’s warm. He’s always been so warm. Like home.
And you-- you’ve always been who Aaron thinks of when he thinks about being happy. It’s always been you. A moment like this, and a thousand others. He wants them all. And to think, you do too.
His lips meet yours in a long-awaited kiss, cold noses bumping against one another, his warm hands holding your face, your chilled fingers finding their home on his neck, stealing his warmth.
From the window, the team watches, and Emily exchanges money with Derek.
#winter love#all i want for christmas is you#aaron hotchner#hotch#criminal minds#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x fem!reader#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x y/n#hotch x you#hotch x fem!reader#hotch x reader#hotch x y/n#aaron hotchner christmas fic#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fanfiction#hotch fanfic#hotch fanfiction#criminal minds christmas fic#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds fanfiction#merry christmas#!!!#<3#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotchner angst#small angst with a happy ending#angst with a happy ending#mostly tooth rotting fluff tbh
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Severus Snape being an awesome teacher and human being
Au Volant - Elsa & Emilie
He makes sure to let students work on their own when they brew Amortentia. They only have to pass in a list of things they smell and he draws little smiley faces on them because he knows a lot of kids are very insecure about their feelings. (Once a kid passed in a list that just said, I’m sorry Professor but it doesn’t smell like anything, and on their paper Severus drew an ace and aro flag and a time for the student to be at Mcgonogall’s office that weekend for tea, along with a smiley face and an O grade.) (The student was Newt.) (Hailee’s just read, People are gross and if I fall in love with one I want you to kill me, to which Severus responded, Valid, and drew her a picture of a turtle.)
He makes fake batches of Felix Felicis and gives one to every student secretly before their O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s so they feel extra confident going into the test but aren’t actually cheating.
He knows his area is Potions, but he teaches defense spells to students who come after class or report bullying anonymously. Severus Snape does not fucking stand for bullying in his classroom or outside of it. If you dare to pick on one of his students, he will burn you so hard with his mere words that you will wish you were dead. Do not fuck with Severus Snape’s kids.
On parent-teacher day, he drinks different batches of Polyjuice Potion to imitate certain students, all of whom hide away in their dorms after drinking a fine batch of invisibility potion. He then follows these select parents around and endures their horrifying, demeaning remarks about their “failure of a child” so his students don’t have to. He makes sure to give these students glowing praises to their parents when it’s his turn to offer feedback (after making up an excuse to go to the bathroom as the student), and takes mental notes of the parents’ most prominent criticisms so he can be sure to compliment those parts of his students during their next assignments (and also just because).
He brews sleeping potions for students he knows stay up all night studying and sometimes slips it into their drinks if they refuse to take it willingly. He then gives them back their (usually almost flawless) tests with the note that if they want a full O they need to sleep more.
He invites kids he knows don’t have many friends to have dinner and lunch and breakfast in his classroom whenever they’d like. He tries to make friends with some of them too, hoping to make their lives a little less lonely than his was.
He keeps an eye out for abusive home situations. He does his best to come up with excuses for those unfortunate students to stay at Hogwarts over breaks or to visit often over the summer. He tries to find them friends that will help them the way James helped Sirius and Regulus, and speaks to Mcgonogall about opening a home for these kids on campus. He does his best to be the parent he knows these kids don’t have, and is open about his own horrid past in hopes of getting some of them to fess up so he can help them better than he can without hearing it explicitly from their mouths.
He uses his Pensieve to collect happy memories of and for his students to reflect on when they need to and they sit in the corner of his classroom. (Among them are his wedding day to James and Lily, the day Harry was born, a couple playdates with the other Marauder children, Sirius and Remus’ wedding day, studying with Remus, pranking James with Sirius, Sirius and James asleep cuddled together with Remus on the couch in ugly Christmas sweaters, his son and many nieces and nephews playing dress-up, reading with Hermione and exploring with Luna and Newt, dancing with Draco (he likes to dance but was always ashamed to do it at the Malfoys), going on long drives with Regulus, the Blacks’ funeral (Regulus and Sirius performed a very gay stripper dance on top of their graves, it was beautiful), and many, many more.) Sometimes he can see his saddest students watching them and smiling, and their sad eyes twinkling make him smile.
He brings in a box of small kittens, puppies, and bunnies one day and lets them wander around the classroom. Some kids start crying because they haven’t felt this loved in years. After an incident with a bad potion and a rainbow puppy, he stops bringing them all out during class, but they’re there on the weekends and whenever a student needs to hug one (or borrow one, much to Mcgonogall’s chagrin).
He works to break down House biases and help students develop inter-House relationships and friendships. He wants every student to be proud of their House and not to treat anyone differently because of theirs. He creates (with Dumbledore, Sirius, and Regulus’ help) an annual House Pride, in which every student dresses up in their House colors and has their nails and skin painted and everyone is smiling and laughing and waving flags with their House emblems in the air. Even the teachers get in on it.
He stresses the importance of friendships, communication, and choices. He urges students not to make his mistakes by treating their friends well, talking about their feelings even if they’re ugly, and making the right choices in life for you and your loved ones, even if those choices are hard. He invites Lily in to talk about this too sometimes.
He sends out his Patronus every night to wander around the school. Often it comes back to him with nothing, but sometimes he can hear a student crying through it. He’ll instruct his doe to sit with the student until he gets there, and then he’ll walk around the castle, pretending to “accidentally” happen upon the crying student. He’ll sit with them until they’ve calmed down and listen if they want to talk and then take them to their dorm, bidding them goodnight and get well soon.
He gives students hugs when they want them. He didn’t want to originally, but Harry would greet him every class with a hug, and then one day Draco came in crying and attached himself to Severus like a sloth, so he patted him on the back and continued to hug him. Not long after, Hermione couldn’t figure out a potion and burst into tears out of frustration, turning and burying herself in his chest. After Luna wrapped her stick arms around his neck for no reason, Severus just accepted his fate and let his students hug him.
A lot of first years get scared in the hallways, since the staircases move and everywhere is incredibly crowded and they are oh so very small. Severus will often hold the hand of the most anxious ones for the first few weeks and walk them to class. Eventually they become more confident with the castle and themselves and stop needing it, but the occasional sixth year will slip their hand into his just because sometimes.
He walks around campus with students sometimes. He can tell when they’re nervous or sad or angry and he takes them on walks around the outskirts of campus and lets them vent. He also teaches them how to throw curses at the Whomping Willow just because (it’s for Remus but nobody’s gonna say it out loud).
He teaches students how to walk dramatically (as he should). He puts on student drag shows in the Great Hall with James’ help (who always kisses him way too enthusiastically because of it) and Dumbledore’s permission (so long as he gets to be the finale). The students work with Sirius on their drag looks and Sirius and Remus both join in the drag show for the opening act. Sirius’ job is to design and create the students’ looks while Remus tells them they look pretty and tames their stage fright. Severus just sits in the audience smirking while Lily screams in delight. (Regulus also shrieks with excitement eventually, though he does usually spend the first half trying to look disinterested.) (Peter’s job is to get the cookies and sweets (and underage alcohol).)
He turns into his snake Animagus form sometimes without warning when his students aren’t looking and just slithers around the classroom scaring the crap out of people. His favorite students are the ones brave enough to pet him. Harry and Newt are the only ones brave enough (and allowed) to wind him around their shoulders. Severus and Harry sometimes have conversations in Parseltongue.
He invents spells to help with dyslexia and other learning disabilities in his spare time. When he’s done with that he plans to try looking into some cures to mental illness. He’s thinking possibly a potion that treats PTSD by replacing traumatic memories with pictures of puppies, unicorns, bunnies, cats, and parrots. What do you think?
He tries hard to come up with solutions and modifications to his lessons for students with ADHD. He often talks to James about what the best steps to take are because James has ADHD. (So does Sirius, but his insecurities are bad enough that he won’t talk about it with anyone but Remus and James.)
He plays the violin sometimes during tests and uses Sonorus to make it echo throughout the classroom. Occasionally he cancels class and just plays until most of his students fall asleep. Those who want to work on extra work can, but he tries to keep their stress and general teenage angst to a minimum. (Though he encourages the emo phase.)
One of the first things he does after the Prank is get to work on a lycanthropy solution for Remus. After a couple years he invents the wolfsbane potion, but it doesn’t quite do the trick. Eventually he manages to figure out the cure, and when Remus finds out he cries so hard he can’t breathe right for days. (Sirius also cries. So does James. And Peter. And Lily and Regulus and Mcgonogall. Seriously, everyone cried and everyone hugged him and Severus tried to get away by transforming into his snake form but toddler Harry just grabbed him and refused to let go, so that didn’t work.) (He also helps Remus become a wolf Animagus when he asks almost a year later.)
He teaches certain kids Occlumency and Legilimency after school. It’s strictly for kids he knows come from abusive homes, whether they’re open about it or not, so they can tell when it’s going to be a bad night and get away or protect themselves. He teaches Occlumency for those who need to hide things from their parents (like Sirius and Regulus used to) and Legilimency to all, just in case. He focuses on stealth and untraceable versions of the craft to earn the kids as much time and protection as he can.
He figures out how to remove the Dark Mark from his own arm after the war. The next person he calls is Regulus, whose he also removes. He writes down the entire process and when the war starts up again, he keeps an eye out for students suddenly wearing long sleeves. He speaks with those he does find and helps them to make the right choice and join the right side of the war, starting with removing that horrid tattoo. (Draco bawls uncontrollably when Severus removes his.)
When they do the lesson on Veritaserum, he’s extra careful to make sure students don’t test it, especially on themselves or their friends. It, along with Amortentia, is the most guarded potion in his stash. The only times he uses it is when a student from an abusive home is too scared to tell him what’s going on, in which case he finds them somewhere private, asks them if they’d be okay with it and if so which teacher they want to be there to ask the questions (usually Remus, Sirius, or himself), and then administers the potion and leaves or begins to ask yes or no questions. It’s helped a lot of kids escape their families.
He tries to ease trepidations about himself early in the school year, since he’s aware he can be intimidating and the rampant stories regarding his time under Voldemort (though entirely as a spy) do not help. His friendships with Remus and Sirius often serve to alleviate students’ fears though, as they tend to tell embarrassing stories about him from their own Hogwarts days that make him seem more human (and make him want to strangle them, but that’s neither here nor there).
Every year, he works with Remus and Lily to arrange Muggleborn Pride. It’s an incredibly popular event with tons of Muggle inventions and artifacts floating through the air over students’ heads. At any time they can reach up and pull one down to study it. Many students dress as their favorite Muggle icons and characters. Because of this, Muggleborn students are more comfortable being who they are than ever before. (Some have even reclaimed the word Mudblood by setting up mud pits during their Pride.) (They also have more Slytherin Muggleborns now than any other time in recorded history.)
He tells Regulus’ story to every class of students, to teach them what true bravery is and how love and family, even if not blood, can change the course of history. Regulus survived his encounter with the Horcruxes and worked to destroy them and eventually Voldemort, but now lives away from the public eye in a secluded part of Muggle London. He and Severus are friends and visit often, and Regulus will occasionally come back to Hogwarts to say hello to his brother and mum (Remus), but for the most part he keeps his life intensely private. He allows his family to tell his story because he wants other kids to know they are not alone and that there is a way out, and that you are not a bad person for things you did in your childhood. Severus does his best to do it justice.
He has incredibly loud arguments with Dumbledore until he finally agrees to implement sex ed as a mandatory class at Hogwarts. Severus works with the other Marauders on the curriculum and they try to include multiple angles and identities in their lesson plan. At first they try to trust Remus with it, but Remus doesn’t go anywhere without Sirius who is less than tactful and Remus himself has some deadpan sarcasm and a lack of shame to rival James Potter’s, so. They try Lily. She can’t stop giggling. Finally they beg Regulus to come back and teach it. He’s surprisingly… perfect for the job. (He steals parenting books from Amir, that’s his secret.)
When James visits, everything becomes chaos for a bit. While he mostly hangs out with Sirius and Remus and causes trouble with them, he certainly seems to enjoy sitting in the back of Severus’ classroom and bothering him during lessons. The only way to get him to leave is to turn into a snake and wind himself around his shoulders, which makes James shriek and sputter and run away (James has always had an irrational fear of snakes; odd that he married one then, innit?). But when James isn’t causing chaos, he’s following Severus around adoringly and grabbing at his hand, whispering jokes in his ear and kissing his cheek. Despite all of the times he’s a pain in the ass, there are always these little moments that remind Severus why he fell in love with him in the first place (entirely unwillingly and with much stubborn pride on both ends, but, well. It is what it is and they got here eventually, so that’s all that matters).
When Lily visits, everything is calm. She reigns all of the Marauders in and forces them to have picnics under the tree where they all used to do homework. She often holds Severus’ hand and dances with him there, turning his insides to useless goo. She’s always full of laughter and fairy bells, and though she makes every student question their priorities and life decisions, she’s a favorite of them all. Not a day goes by that someone doesn’t pull him aside and say, “You’re a lucky, lucky man.” (Or, in James’ case: “Fuck, love, how’d we bloody manage that?” (Severus just shrugs. It’s not like he knows.))
He helps kids with autism feel more like they belong. He also works to educate non-autistic students how to better socialize and respect those who are, and takes extra care to dispel myths about autism and its causes, effects, and characteristics. Lily helps when she can.
Above all, Severus tries to give his students the education he never had. Anything he can provide for them he will. He’s been given a second chance and by Merlin is he going to bloody use it.
#severus snape#pro snape#marauders#pro marauders#james potter#lily evans#regulus black#remus lupin#sirius black#minerva mcgonogall#albus dumbledore#james x lily x severus#wolfstar#hailee sirirem amirus lupin is regulus' kid with this librarian muggle amir levis#maxwell neeedles is a punk nonbinary with magenta hair#they're a hufflepuff with gryffindor energy whose animagus is a cheetah#they're peter's partner and their son is seamus finnigan#remus and sirius adopted hermione and luna and draco and newt#severitus#severus and james and lily are all harry's parents#mcgonogall is dumbledore's qpp#james and sirius and remus are qpps#this is my harry potter canon now#fuck jk rowling#everybody's gay#harry potter#have a nice day y'all
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White Christmas ~ BC [M] [Day Twenty Four: Advent Calendar]
WORD COUNT: 3K
GENRE: Smut, Christmas smut,
PAIRING: Bang Chan X Fem!Reader
WARNING: Jealously smut, flirting, bondage, unprotected sex, creampie, pet names, light-spanking
A/N: This is a part of the Smutmus collab put together by the amazing @clandestine-lixie
DESCRIPTION: After baking festive cookies with Felix you try to surprise your boyfriend with them at work but he pushes you away causing you to flirt with a younger member just to get his attention but when that doesn’t work you head home only for Chan to follow behind you and give you a different kind of white Christmas. (I suck at descriptions I’m sorry!!)
Christmas songs were blasting through the small speaker in the kitchen, the whole dorm was decked out in Christmas decorations ready for Christmas tomorrow. Most of the boys had gone home for the holidays but Chan, Felix and Jeongin were spending it at the dorms since they couldn't get home. All flights had been cancelled thanks to the snow and Jeongin didn't want to risk driving home in the snow so he decided to stay with his Hyung's. Not realising it meant dealing with you and Felix baking for a week straight, singing nothing but Christmas songs and dressing up. This morning he'd decided to go with Chan to the studio just to get some peace and quiet,
"Christmas eve!" Felix bounced up and down on the spot as he brought the ingredients over for his cookies over to you. This week you'd done nothing but bake and prep everything ready for Christmas day, choosing to take some of the festive baked goods to the JYP building to spread some Christmas cheer.
"I can't tell if you're excited," You said sarcastically as you wrapped the black apron around yourself, you were wearing a red velvet Mrs Claus dress which was what you were supposed to wear tomorrow but you'd been dying to wear it all week.
"Shut up, you're already in your dress." Felix teased back as he went to get some gloves from the bottom drawer in the kitchen, you got the bowls from the cupboards and walked back to the table,
"I can't help it, I feel cute. Plus I'm taking the cookies down to Chan before I go to my apartment so I thought I should look the part." You laughed softly turning to see Felix beside you as he hummed,
"Sure, that's why you're wearing it to see Chan." He wasn't an idiot. You and Chan had been together for a year in March so it wasn't like you weren't sexually active.
"Keep your mind out of the gutter," You grumbled turning to him and waiting for further instructions,
"Oh! Wait!" You yelled out jumping up and going over to your bag, you'd gotten some more festive cookie cutters from the supermarket that morning and thought they would be cute to use.
"Cute!" Felix yelled as you brought them over to him. They were almost as cute as the gingerbread men cutters you'd brought the day before.
"Snowflakes, angels, and a-" You began tilting the cutter around trying to figure out what the cutter was, it must have gotten squished in your bag because you didn't recognise it at all.
"Rudolph?" Felix tried to guess but then you turned it around again and it looked nothing like a reindeer,
"I've got it!" You nodded your head dropping it onto the table,
"What?" Felix questioned tilting his head as he tried to catch up to whatever it was,
"It's the festive blob that we won't use," You clapped your hands together wanting to get on with the baking instead of waiting around some more.
"Alexa! Volume 7," Felix cried out as he heard his favourite Christmas song coming over the speaker, you'd think after hearing it sixteen times in a row he would get bored of it but you always found a way to make singing the song fun again.
"Innie? I brought cookies," You waved the box in your hands at the studio door as Jeongin's head slowly began to rise from the sofa, he was half asleep waiting on Chan to take him to lunch. You could practically hear his stomach growling from outside the door, he raced over to you but you held the box just out of his reach.
"Go and get two glasses of milk for you and Chan." You mumbled watching him sprint down the hallway towards the canteen, you giggled shutting the door as you made your way into the studio. Chan was in his usual spot in front of his laptop, working just as hard as he usually did. Gently you placed the box of cookies down beside him and stretched your hands out to rub his shoulders but he didn't move, it was like he was so lost in his work he'd barely even noticed you were there.
"Channie, you need a break." You whispered lowly in his ear hoping he would turn around to see you. Along with the Mrs Claus dress you were wearing you'd matched it with some red and white thigh high socks and a pair of black boots but he wasn't paying attention.
"Channie..." You tapped him softly but again his attention was on the screen as he began typing something, you'd tried to watch him work before but the whole process confused you too much so you went over to the sofa. If he looked up he would see you in the corner of his eye, spreading your legs slowly only to cross the other one over for him but it was no use, nothing was going to tear his eyes away from the screen.
"I got the milk Noona," A smiling Jeongin came back into the room carrying two pint-sized glasses of milk, it was now that he noticed what you were wearing. Before he'd been so distracted at the thought of the cookies but now his ears were turning red as he stared at you.
"You look amazing, is this what you're wearing tomorrow?" You saw you the chance to annoy Chan so you took it, he hated when you would openly flirt or tease him with the boys so you nodded at Jeongin.
"You like it? I thought the thigh highs would be soo much but I think it pulls it together," You whispered sweetly, patting the seat beside you as you got up to get the cookies.
"I think Chan's too busy to give us attention Innie, you'll have to deal with little me for now." Chan's grip on his mouse tightened as he heard you talking to Jeongin like this but he wasn't going to show you he was paying attention yet. He knew what you were doing, you'd done nothing but tease him all week with the idea of him fucking you in that dress on Christmas day and now you were parading around in it. Flaunting it for everyone to see, along with the thigh-high socks he'd gotten you with the intent of ripping them off as soon as he got you alone at the dorms or back to your own apartment.
"I-I don't mind Noona," Chan licked his lips as he continued to try and force himself into paying attention to the track he was working on but all he could focus on was your blatant flirting with Jeongin the whole time you were there until you finally left to go home to your own place to pack up some clothes.
When the front door to your apartment opened you weren't surprised, Jeongin had text you to say that Chan left not long after you and you knew he'd be coming to see you right away.
"Hi baby, do you want me to bring you-" You stopped talking when you turned around to see Chan standing behind you holding a stocking in his hand.
"What's that?" You questioned trying to peek inside but a giant smirk spread across his face as he held it out of your reach.
"An early Christmas present for my slutty little Mrs Claus," As soon as the words left his mouth you knew you were in trouble so you smile innocently at him while moving from side to side,
"I'm not sure what you're talking about," His hand gripped onto your hair roughly as he brought you into a heated kiss, his hands running up and down your dress as you moan against his lips.
"C-Chan," You whined out as his hands gripped onto the fake belt around the mid-section of your red dress, he began searching for the zip before giving up.
"Out of the dress, I don't want to ruin it before tomorrow." You nodded at him, his tone of voice was demanding and you were already in enough trouble as it was so you did as you were told. Stepping out of the dress and throwing it into the corner of the room,
"Fuck, look at you." He groaned running his hands over your body, his thumbs circling your hard nipples through the black lace bra you were wearing, he bit down on his lip as he ran his hand down to the matching lace thong.
"You couldn't wait a day longer?" He tutted at you pushing you face down onto the mattress as he delivered a small slap across your ass cheek making you giggle,
"N-No, I need you." You whimpered getting onto all fours on the bed and wiggling your ass for him but he wasn't impressed, another smack as delivered across your ass and he growled at you.
"Flirting with I.N like that, making him think he stood a chance when we both know the only cock you like to be stuffed full of is mine. Isn't that right, Mrs Claus?" You nodded not removing your eyes from his as he stood in front of the bed, his hard-on evident through his trousers.
"Suck," You gladly moved over to him fumbling to unbutton the jeans he was wearing as he stroked your hair waiting for you to get to him, you smirked when you saw him wearing a pair of Santa Claus underpants.
"Festive," You said sarcastically as you took his tip into your mouth slowly licking small kitten stripes along his slit as he breathed out in relief,
"No teasing," He warned you as you began to lick from base to tip, spitting onto him so you could pump him with ease.
"Fuck," He grunted as you took him into your mouth easing yourself down so he would hit the back of your throat. Taking hold of his thighs you began to push down as much as you could into your mouth forcing yourself to stay down on him knowing it made him feel good. He grunted softly as his fingers gripped onto your hair softly thrusting into your mouth as precum dripped from his slit,
"Fuck," He moaned out, he'd originally come to your apartment with the intent of punishing you but now you were sucking his dick he never wanted it to stop. You continued to swallow around him using your hands to play with his balls as you continued bobbing your head. Tears were starting to well up in your eyes as he held you down for longer than normal but as soon as he saw the tears he let you come up for air, you kept pumping him while he removed the string of saliva from your lip.
Taking him back into your mouth you began to bob your head up and down on his shaft quickly, taking hi into your throat occasionally until you felt him twitch in your mouth.
"N-No I'm close, b-baby stop," He grunted not wanting you to stop but if you kept going he'd be sensitive all night but that was what you wanted. You held onto his thighs keeping your steady pace until he finally began to breathe heavily.
"Fuck, Y/n!" His voice was deep as he moaned out in pleasure, his hips thrusting into you as you sucked harder swirling your tongue around the head. Playing with his balls you rolled them around your fingers gently until he came into your mouth, the hot string of cum hitting the back of your throat,
"Ugh shit," He shouted as his hips bucked a little more into you, you pulled off him holding eye contact with him as you swallowed his load smirking as he mumbled curse words in both English and Korean.
"You're in trouble," You batted your eyelashes innocently at him and he reached for the stocking.
"Lay down. Arms up to each post of the bed." You scrambled nervously as he ordered you to do so.
Your wrists were bound to either post of the bed and your legs were left undied. Thigh highs and underwear still intact as he looked at you running his hands down your exposed stomach. Your wrists were tied by some red bondage rope and now he was pulling something from the stocking,
"What's that?" You questioned as he pulled out a box,
"Unheated Christmas lights, I saw a photo on Twitter the other day that really inspired me." You knew exactly what photo he was talking about, it was something you'd shown him. A girl tied down to the bed by fairy lights,
"What's up angel? I thought you wanted this to be festive," You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded as he began wrapping the lights around each of your wrists before turning them on.
"So pretty, all lit up for me like this." He groaned kissing your lips softly before trailing his kisses down your body, your legs spread for him as he pulled your panties down throwing them somewhere in the room,
"Chan, please," You whimpered as he blew air onto your aching core.
"Please what?" He teased looking at your pussy that was displayed for him to see, you went to pull your thighs together but he pressed them down against the bed.
"You want me to touch this pretty little pussy?" He whispered in a mocking tone as he ran his finger over the inside of your thigh,
"You're so swollen baby, and dripping onto the sheets." You moaned out as he placed his index finger on you and began rubbing it up and down your folds,
"Ah please Channie," You moaned out bucking your hips up against his finger but he pulled away from you. He slowly laid down in front of your core blowing onto you as you whimpered,
"You're dripping wet baby girl," You looked at him pleadingly waiting for him to do something, anything to you.
"N-Need you," You whispered looking into his eyes as he smirked at you. He delved into you swirling his soft tongue around the outside of your pussy as your back arched away from the bed,
"Chan!" You cried out tugging at the ropes around your wrists but getting nowhere with them. He knew how much you loved to touch him so this was your punishment for the night,
"F-Fuck! Feels so-so good!" You yelped out as he hummed around your cunt sending vibrations through your core. You moaned out as he began to lap up all your juices, you whimpering knowing you were going to be making a mess all over your sheets.
"Chan," Your head rolled back against the bed as he began to pump two fingers in and out of you pumping them knuckles deep as you moaned out his name.
"S-Shit! Just like that!" You cried out as he began sucking on your swollen clit keeping his fingers at a steady pace.
"Fu-Fuck!" You screamed out as your orgasm washed over you like a wave, you didn't even feel it coming. Your legs began to shake as Chan pushed his fingers deeper into you while humming on your clit to ride you through your orgasm.
"Ready baby girl?" You nodded weakly looking up at him as he smirked down at you, lining himself up at your entrance as he teased you with the head of his cock.
"N-Need you," You whispered still trying to pull at the restraints but you weren't going to get far with them, he reached down to kiss you as he pushed into you making you moan into the kiss.
"Fuck," He sighed as he finally felt you around him for the first time all week, you clenched as he began to move and he chuckled,
"So tight angel, fuck-" He grunted as he began to slam in and out of you making you cry out as he slammed into you.
"S-Shit," You whimpered looking up into his eyes as he got lost in the feeling of finally having your warm cunt around him, he'd missed it so much.
"You feel so good around me baby girl, so warm," You cried out at the feeling of another orgasm building inside of you already, he chuckled as you clenched around him again and again.
"Does my slutty little Mrs Claus, want to cum again?" You nodded at him as he ran his thumb along your bottom lip, you took it into your mouth and sucked on it as he continued his well-timed thrusts.
"Fuck! Please! I wanna cum all over your cock," You cried out as he took his thumb from your mouth and began to draw circles on your clit,
"I-I wanna cum please," You begged him looking into his eyes as he nodded his head, normally he'd be the one to edge you and edge you over and over again for what you did today but this was his second time cumming tonight so he knew he wouldn't be able to hold off from it,
"Fuck- Y-You can cum baby," He groaned holding onto your hips as he slapped into you, lifting your right leg up and wrapping it around his waist as he continued his thrusts hitting deeper than before.
"F-Fill me up C-Chan please," You begged him as you felt your own orgasm approaching, he grunted hearing you beg for his cum.
A few more thrusts and you came undone around him, moaning out his name as you clenched onto him, he fucked you through your high as he spilt into you moaning out your name as you whimpered tugging at the restraints desperate to finally be able to touch him.
"One-second baby," He whispered kissing you as he pulled out and went to free you from the ropes and lights,
"Well," He chuckled laying down next to you as you curled up into him, you were so tired but you had to shower and get back to the dorms tonight.
"You wanted a white Christmas," He joked making you groan in disgust as you sat up from the bed and went to shower alone while he cleaned up the bedroom.
"Come on! Hey- Hey it was funny!" You shut the door making sure you locked it loud enough so that he could hear it as you started the water shaking your head at your boyfriend.
Tagline: @kneel-begyourpardon @taestannie @peachyhan @missmxqn @oosnapitskat @changbinswifu
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Hot Chocolate Kisses
A/N: It’s nothing much, but it is something so tender and soft. I love Frankie and fluff! Why not have both? Tis a little thank/happy holiday gift from me to you. Enjoy 💕
Pairing: Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 3k
Warnings: pregnant reader, references to sex, sweet sweet fluff!
FRANKIE MORALES MASTERLIST
MAIN MASTERLIST
»»————- ♡ ————-««
"Good morning," the sound of his soft voice accompanied by the feel of his arms around your midsection was enough to make your heart flutter. He placed a soft kiss to your shoulder before resting his head there and humming in content, "how are you, honey bee?"
"Good morning, mi amor," you replied softly, taking one of his hands that had been resting on the gentle swell of your belly and bringing to your lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles, "I'm perfect. What about you, Frankie? Did you rest well?"
"Like a dream," he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head before reluctantly letting go and moving towards the coffee pot. Once he poured a cup and made it to his liking, he came over, and followed your line of sight out into the yard.
There was nothing but mountains of glittering snow coating the entire neighborhood as far as the eye could see. Small children were already playing outside, all bundled up in thick snow jackets and woolen hats, while dogs ran around their yards barking and biting at soft, fat flakes that were gently drifting down from the heavens.
"Record snowfalls," you looked at him with excited eyes, "which means we are snowed in and work is canceled. Do I even try to pretend to be upset?"
"Hell no," his smile was infectious as his singular dimple appeared and his soft eyes crinkled in the corners the way you adored, "I get to spend the say being lazy at home with my girl? I'm not going to argue with that."
"You know what today calls for," your eyes were wide and bright as the two of you knew exactly what a snow day meant. You'd come up with your own little traditions a long time ago and always pulled them out on days like this.
"You just want an excuse for hot chocolate!" Frankie's tone was lovingly accusing as he crossed his arms over his chest as he took a sip from his mug.
"No!" you insisted firmly, offering him a small little pout, "your daughter is craving some. Ever since you knocked me up that's all I've been wanting! And I don't need any excuse for hot chocolate. Hot chocolate isn't a crime!"
"First of all, this -" he pointed tenderly to the small bump just visible under your sweater, "was a team effort. Secondly, you've always loved my hot chocolate, long before any of this. She had nothing to do with this!”
"Obviously," you stuck your tongue out at him, "but you make it all fancy and gourmet. How can I say no? She's not helping though! I swear it's a craving."
“Your mamá is already using you as an excuse,” he laughed as he rested his hand on your belly. You instantly felt her move and flutter under his touch; she always seemed to be more active when he was around. Even though you were trying to have a seriously teasing conversation, the moment was enough to make your heart melt, “can you believe it, mija? She just doesn’t want to admit she’s addicted to the world’s best hot chocolate.”
“I can quit it any time I want,” you snorted with laughter at his silly antics, “I just choose not to. Now, don’t deny your pregnant wife what she wants!”
“What does she want?” there was a wicked little glint in his eye as you raised a brow at him.
“Well for starters,” you pointed at the cabinet, “some hot chocolate later. But how about breakfast for now? And a warm bath after that? I swear I’m getting as bad as you old man, my back is killing me.”
“Hey now,” he warned with a small boop to your nose, “you’re getting awfully cheeky for someone who wants my hot chocolate. You’re on very thin ice, honey bee.”
“You know I’m only kidding, Francisco,” you gave him a quick kiss as you went to the refrigerator to start gathering ingredients for breakfast, “besides, you’re my favorite DILF.”
“Oh no,” his laughter was a loud, beautiful thing as it sounded throughout the kitchen. You turned to him and shot him a cheeky little wink, “not you too! Everyone’s calling me that lately, I swear.”
“They can look but they can’t touch. I mean, have you seen yourself Frankie? You’re handsome as hell, you’re amazing, wonderful, kind. Everything,” you insisted as you rejoined his side, You could already see the light flush of color in his cheeks as he relished your words, “and you’re all mine. Besides, I’m half the reason you’re a DILF. Where is my recognition in all of this?”
“I love you, honey bee,” he stared at you in awe for a moment before turning so he could kiss you properly. It took you by surprise but it took even less to respond back; kissing him was such saccharine bliss, “you are everything to me.”
“Good,” you beamed at him, “now let’s get this ultimate lazy day started!”
»»————- ♡ ————-««
“Those might have been our best pancakes ever,” you wolfed down the last syrupy bite before pushing away your empty plate, “I feel as stuffed as a damn turkey.”
“You’re the most beautiful and radiant turkey I have ever laid eyes on,” he joked as you lovingly groaned at his silly words, “I’ll clean up and you can start the bath. Plan?”
“Plan,” you agreed as you slid off the bar stool and started padding towards the kitchen. As Frankie busied himself with gathering up the empty dishes, you turned around and watched him for a moment, nothing but a gentle warmth radiating throughout your body, “Frankie? You’re going to join me, right?”
He turned to you and offered you his megawatt smile as he slowly nodded, a rogue curl bouncing around and falling onto his forehead. Gods, he was so effortlessly handsome and sweet. You couldn’t stop yourself from rushing over to him, delicately grabbing his face as you pressed a kiss to his lips, still tasting the faint sweetness of the syrup, “what was that for?”
“Nothing,” you grinned breathlessly, “I just love you is all.”
“Oh,” a flush of pink tinged his cheeks as he brought his hands to your face, delicately tracing over your features before pressing the softest kiss to your lips, “I love you too.”
“I know,” you beamed, “now hurry up so we can take a bath!”
»»————- ♡ ————-««
You were humming under your breath, sitting at the edge of the large tub as you watched it fill up with warm water. There weren’t very many requirements you had when the two of you had been house hunting before deciding to expand your family - but a large bathtub was one of them. Moments like this made you glad for it; you loved being able to slip into the tub, often dragging along Frankie with you, not that he had any complaints of course. It was perfect for the two of you, and now that you seemed to be growing by the day, it was even better.
Pulling your favorite bottle of bubble bath off the shelf, you poured some in, inhaling deeply at the relaxing scent. All the stress and worries you had were already dissolving away with each passing second. Once you were satisfied with the copious amounts of soft bubbles, you threw in some Epsom salt for good measure, hoping it would help your aching body. Deciding to make it even more festive, you grabbed the speaker from your bedroom, and turned it on, opting to play some soft Christmas music in the background. It wasn’t like you were going to be paying much attention to it anyway; your conversations with Frankie always seemed endless, no matter how long the two of you had been together.
“Close your eyes,” Frankie came into the bathroom just as you were finishing getting everything ready. You closed your eyes, making a show of putting your hands over your eyes as you heard him shuffling in, “okay, pick a hand - left or right.”
“Hmmm…” you mused for a moment, “how about left?”
“Lucky guess,” he chuckled as he pulled your hands from your eyes. A little grin spread across your features when you saw what he was holding in his hands, “surprise!”
“Frankie,” his name was but a mere soft sigh as you reached for the soft, cozy pajamas he was holding out to you. You could spy a matching pair for him on the counter, your heart fluttering in delight. It had become a sort of little tradition for the two of you to get new matching holiday pajamas every year. It was just some silly thing, but it still meant the world to you, “I love them. Thank you so much - you remembered.”
“Of course,” he held out his hands to you, slowly hoisting you to your feet, “I wouldn’t ever forget.”
He slowly reached for the hem of your sweater, gently pulling up and over your head and outstretched arms before tossing it on the floor. He followed suit with your bra, unclasping it before letting it join your sweater and doing the same to your leggings and underwear. It was such a small intimate thing, the way his eyes looked over you was nothing short of adoration and reverence.
“Your turn,” you whispered before starting to unbutton his flannel, taking your time to undo it one by one. Shrugging it off his shoulders, you pressed a few kisses to the soft, golden skin of his shoulder before moving onto his jeans, wicking them down his legs along with his boxers. He made a small sound in his throat before stepping out of his jeans and pulling you into his arms. The gentle coolness of his wedding band on your back was wonderful; a delicate reminder of just how much he loved you.
“You look beautiful,” he whispered as he trailed kisses along your jaw and down your neck, a hand running down your side as he rested it on your waist, taking solace in the gentle swell of your belly. He still couldn’t believe your daughter - his daughter, one that came as a small surprise and blessing was in there. One he had never known he wanted so much until you told him you were pregnant and he broke down crying, as emotional as you were. You, the two of you, were everything for him.
“Hmm,” you mused, “you’re not so bad yourself. I guess we both got pretty lucky, huh? I love you so much, Francisco. More than you will ever know.”
He looked back at you with those brown eyes you adored so much, and you could see that they were glossy, close to spilling over with tears. You reached up and touched his cheek before brushing away a stray curl.
“Come on,” he held your hand as you motioned towards the tub. He got in first, settling down before holding his arms out to you. Carefully, you settled in next to him surprising him for a moment as you occupied the other side. Before he could say anything, you gathered up a handful of bubbles, and blew them at him, watching as they stuck in his dark mop of hair, “playing dirty are we?”
“Maybe,” you splashed him with the warm water, “you have to play nice, I’m pregnant!”
“You started it!” he splashed you back as you squealed in delight, “don’t start what you can’t finish!”
“Oh, it’s on! It’s so on,” you laughed as you tried to move the bubbles closer to your half of the tub, “you’re going down!”
»»————- ♡ ————-««
“Do you have enough blankets, honey?” Frankie walked back into the living room, arms filled with a few more big, fuzzy blankets. You looked up from the comfy couch, during the numerous blankets you’d already secured and gave him a big grin. You were already feeling so toasty and warm in your new pajamas after your bath, and this just made it so much better. He snorted with laughter at the sight of only your head poking out, “oh.”
“It’s freezing!” you insisted, digging your arm out and pointing at your feet, “pile them on! The only thing I’m missing is your body.”
“I have a few more things to do first,” he put the blankets down and wrapped them around your feet, “gonna start a fire and then go and make the hot chocolate. You, my little bee, are in charge of finding our first movie. Think you’re up to the challenge?”
“As if that’s a question,” you joked as you reached for the remote, as he went over to the fireplace, “you just need to hurry up!”
"You are getting so demanding," he laughed as he kneeled next to the fireplace and started to pile some of the logs in. He started to hum softly under his breath as you watched him, absolutely in awe of the man you were able to call your husband. The sight of him in the same pajamas as you was endearing and caused you a moment of pause as you pictured doing this next year with him and your daughter.
You often wondered what she would like, although you both knew that the only thing that mattered was that she was healthy and sound. But a small part of you hoped she'd take after Frankie, to have those gentle chocolate eyes and dark curls. Maybe she'd take after you, or maybe -
"Everything alright?" Frankie turned and caught your distant gaze on him as she started to light the fire. You hadn't realized you'd gotten so lost in your little daydream.
"Yes," you smiled at him, "just thinking..."
"Thinking about...."
"Its silly..."
"If it matters to you then it's not silly," he insisted, making a small sound of satisfaction when the fire started to crackle away merrily.
"I was just thinking about next year," you admitted shyly, "you know how we do the matching pjs every year? I think it would be fun to do that with the bean next year."
"I love the sound of that," he agreed, "that'll make a great Christmas card!"
"Yeah," you agreed as he brought you a pillow to rest your head on, "you really do think of everything, don't you?"
"Only for my bee," he promised with a wink and a kiss, "I'll go and make the hot chocolate. Classic for you today?"
"Surprise me!"
"Be back," he promised as pointed at the television, "now pick something good out!"
»»————- ♡ ————-««
It seemed like it had been a small eternity since Frankie had left to go on his little adventure of hot chocolate making, and you'd long since found a suitable movie. You started it but kept it paused as you waited. But soon you felt a flutter in your belly. A contented sigh escaped your lips as you put your hand on your tummy where you felt her moving around.
"I know baby bean," you told her gently, "I miss him too. Even when he's gone only for a few minutes. You're gonna love him so much, just like me. He's going to be the best papá. We already love you so much. We can't wait to meet you."
"Talking to yourself?" just in time your knight in cozy pajamas came striding back in with two delicious steaming mugs of hot chocolate.
"I am never alone anymore," you reminded him as he came and cozied up next to you, "I've always got the bean. And we were having a private conversation, thank you very much."
"Please don't let me interrupt," he passed your mug over before pulling blankets over his form and you curled up in his side. You grinned at the full mug, admiring how perfectly he had made it. It was a classic, a layer of mini marshmallows followed by a layer of whipped cream and drizzled with chocolate and caramel syrup.
"Thank you, Frankie," you beamed as you took a long sip, savoring the creamy sweetness on your tongue. You heard a soft chuckle before Frankie reached over and wiped off the whipped cream from your nose, "oops!"
"Good?" he asked as you nodded eagerly. Before he could stop himself, he leaned over and gave you a soft, saccharine little kiss. He lingered against your lips and you could taste the sweetness of the hot chocolate that was clinging onto him. He grinned before giving you a few more pecks, each sweeter than the last, "even better. Now, start this movie and let's get this marathon on the road!"
You clutched your mug to your chest as Frankie brought an arm over your shoulders and you pressed play on your first cheesy holiday movie.
»»————- ♡ ————-««
It wasn't long before you felt your eyes start to get heavy as you finished your mug of hot chocolate. You were about to move it to the coffee table, but Frankie beat you to the punch, grabbing it from your hands and setting down before pulling you into his lap.
He wrapped his arms around you as you laid against his chest and let the soft rise and fall of his chest relax and lull you.
Soon enough your eyes closed and everything seemed distant. You didn't even try to fight it as Frankie pressed a kiss to your cheek. One hand was holding yours, your fingers laced together and the other was resting on your belly. It wasn't long before you were completely under the siren spell of sleep and snoring quietly in his arms.
"I love you, honey bee," he whispered ever so gently as he relaxed too, growing more tired by the second, "and you too, baby bee. You two are everything."
»»————- ♡ ————-««
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