#heck yeah this is one of my absolute FAVORITES of my own work

[encountersltd]

jan 2023

assembly!

[parkitrighthere]

The Black Orchid Project

Pairing: billionaire CEO!Jeon Jungkook x Secretory!Reader Genre: Dark Romance, Mystery, Thriller Word Count: 19k Trigger warning: This chapter contains morally grey characters, toxic characters, dark romance, trauma, violence, mentions of murder, death, and conspiracy. Reader discretion is advised. Summary: Jungkook is the enigmatic CEO of a major conglomerate with a haunting secret—he can hear everyone’s thoughts. But when Y/N becomes his new personal secretary, she’s the only person whose thoughts remain silent to him. Intrigued and unsettled, Jungkook is drawn to the mystery she presents, not realizing that their connection will unravel secrets neither of them are prepared to face. a/n: This story is entirely a work of fiction and is the sole property of @parkitrighthere. The characters, events, and scenarios depicted are products of the imagination and are not intended to represent or reflect real-life situations, nor do I wish for anything portrayed here to occur in reality. I kindly ask that my work not be copied, translated, or reposted as your own on this or any other platform, including YouTube. Please respect the effort and originality behind this piece. Thank you for your understanding and support. a/n: So, I finally posted. Yeah, I know, shock of the century, right? You were probably out here cursing my name like, 'Where the heck have you been?' Well, I guess I just decided not to post this time. Don’t ask me why, I don’t even know. But hey, I’m sorry for that. I know, I say sorry a lot, it’s like my default setting at this point. But I swear, I’m really going to try and post more. I promise. Maybe. Also, a super huge shoutout and a massive thank you to my absolute favorite person @closer-to-jungkook. She beta-read this mess for me, and gave me so many amazing insights, but guess what? I didn’t do a single thing with them because, you know, I’m a failure like that. So, yeah, basically I let her down as my beta reader. Sorry, girl. But next time, I swear, I’ll actually listen and make you proud... unless I forget, again, in which case... whoops. Anyway, love you guys, and I’ll try not to disappear again... maybe.

PROLOGUE MASTERLIST 02

CHAPTER TITLE: Work, Words, and Wrecks

You shifted uncomfortably in your chair, your hands gripping the edges of the table, knuckles white as you tried to appear composed. But your patience was wearing thin. He was overreacting, making a mountain out of nothing. Sure, you’d made a mistake—who hadn’t?—but this? This was ridiculous. What was his deal with the room’s capacity? Why on earth was he so bothered about having more than four people in a room? Seriously, what kind of control freak rule was that? You chewed on the inside of your cheek, trying to suppress the urge to roll your eyes. Was he scared of crowds or something? Honestly, with his attitude, he should be. If he kept ticking people off like this, one day, someone might snap—and if there were enough people, they’d form a mob. The thought almost made you snort, but you swallowed it down, biting your cheek. It was a silly theory, but it was better than trying to untangle the nonsense of his rules.

The meeting dragged on. Time seemed to crawl as if the clock itself was protesting against the sheer monotony of the discussion. It hadn’t been long since it started, but to you, it already felt like you’d been trapped in this room for days. You lost count of the times his gaze—no, his glare—scorched into you. Each glance filled with condescension that felt like a slap across the face.

He glared at you again. His soft, doe-like eyes narrowed, dark and piercing, with a keenness that made you shrink back slightly. His jaw tightened, the muscle jumping under his skin as he ground his teeth. You flinched instinctively, your body betraying you with a subtle jerk, as if bracing for impact, suddenly aware of how small you felt under his scrutiny. Your hands clenched in your lap, fingers feeling like they might snap, as you tried to focus anywhere else.

You quickly averted your gaze, your eyes darting around the room, desperate for an escape.  Your eyes landed on Taehyung. He leaned back casually in his chair, one arm draped casually over the backrest, his long fingers drumming against the table in a slow, lazy rhythm. As soon as he felt your gaze, his lips curled into a subtle smirk. He raised his brows and blinked at you—once, deliberately.

You felt your face heat, and not from embarrassment, but frustration. God, all these men are insane. You clenched your fists tighter, nails digging into your palms to calm yourself.  You swore they all had some kind of mental dysfunction. Jungkook with his silent rage, Taehyung with his infuriating charm—maybe Jimin was the only sane one in this room besides you.

You sighed, shifting in your seat again, your foot tapping nervously against the floor. Mental health courses exist for a reason, you thought bitterly, your gaze flickering between Jungkook’s scowl and Taehyung’s irritating grin. Maybe they should sign up for all of them.

 As your thoughts spiralled, you dared a glance at him… again. Only to catch the faintest twitch of his brow—precise, calculated. It wasn’t just anger in his expression; it was something darker, something… personal? And it scared you, even if you’d never admit it.

The moment you had been dreading finally came. The meeting was over.

Chairs screeched against the floor as everyone pushed back from the table. The sound grated on your nerves, but you rose from your seat anyway, hands trembling, legs wobbling as though they might give out beneath you.

 Your breath hitched, shallow and fast, a knot tightening in the pit of your stomach. Your heart pounded against your ribs, a viscous thud that made your chest ache.  Was this fear? Anxiety? You couldn’t tell anymore, but it clawed at you, gnawing at your insides like a predator circling its prey. You clenched your fists at your sides, trying to calm yourself, but the uneasy tremor in your chest refused to fade.

You risked another glance at him, keeping your gaze low, peeking through your lashes, a fleeting, nervous look that you immediately regretted.  His gaze locked onto you, soft yet paradoxically so sharp and firm, as if he could see right through you. The weight of his stare felt like a physical force pressing against your temple. You quickly looked away but it was too late.

 Your throat tightening as your heart slammed against your ribs. But it didn’t matter—his eyes stayed on you, burning holes into the side of your head like he could feel every breath you took.

There was something in the way he looked at you—a mix of curiosity and disdain that made your skin crawl, like you were an unsolved puzzle he hated having to deal with. It was as though he were studying you, dissecting you piece by piece. He looked at you like he couldn’t stand the thought of breathing the same air as you, as if being in the same room as you was a personal insult he couldn’t forgive. The corner of his mouth twitched, but not in kindness. A cold, predatory smirk curled his lips, one that made your blood run cold.

His soft brown boba eyes never left you.

And then he smiled. Cold, shrill, and entirely without warmth. A smile that dripped with obnoxiousness and delight, as though he was basking in your unease, feeding off it like it gave him some twisted satisfaction.

 You weren’t sure what scared you more—the venom in his gaze or the fact that you couldn’t look away, no matter how much you wanted to.

"Jungkook," Seokjin’s voice cut through the fragile silence like a gentle breeze, calm and soothing.

Jungkook’s head snapped toward Seokjin, and in an instant, everything about him changed.

 His shoulders, tense and rigid moments ago, relaxed, and his piercing glare melted away, replaced by something soft—gentle, even. His lips curved into a smile, one so sweet and genuine it left you completely dumfounded. You blinked, your mouth falling open in shock.

What the hell?

Your eyes widened,  as you stared at him, disbelief etched across your face.  How... how is this possible? This was the same man who had spent the entire meeting glaring daggers at you, exuding nothing but cold enmity. How could someone so rude, heartless, and obnoxiously infuriating smile like that? It didn’t make sense. It felt like a trick, some cruel joke the universe was playing on you. But there it was—his smile, warm and dazzling, as if he hadn’t spent the past hour glaring at you like you were dirt beneath his shoe.  And now? Now he looked like a painting come to life—a vision of warmth and beauty that shouldn’t belong to someone so cruel.

Your heart skipped a beat as you noticed the faint crinkle at the corners of his eyes, the way his smile softened his entire face. For a brief, fleeting moment, you found yourself mesmerized. A small, traitorous voice whispered in the back of your mind, He’s stunning. Beautiful. Perfect. And he was. That smile made him look like something out of a dream, his dark orbs soft and almost shy under the fluorescent light. He was cute too, you realized, in that infuriating way that made you want to scream. And hot? God, no one could dare bring up the concept of hotness without mentioning him.

How can someone so horrible look this… beautiful? The whisper in the back of your mind grew louder. This man is the definition of beauty.

Your cheeks flushed at the thought, and you shook your head quickly, breaking free from whatever spell he’d cast. No. Absolutely not. Don’t go there. You shook your head slightly, muttering a quiet mantra in your head. No, no, no. He’s an idiot. A rude, wicked bastard. Stop it. This is the same guy who’s made your day a living hell. Remember that. But it was hard to ignore the way your heart raced, or the strange flutter in your chest.

Jungkook didn’t respond to Jin right away. Instead, he moved. His long strides carried him around the table, each step smooth and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world. He stopped beside Jin, his posture instantly relaxed as Seokjin patted his shoulder in a way that felt natural, familiar.

Jin began to speak again, his lips parting as if to offer some kind of reassurance, but Jungkook cut him off before he could finish.

“Hyung! Let’s go to my office,” Jungkook said, his voice low and soft, almost tender. “We’ll talk there?” His voice was softer than you’d heard it, polite and calm. It was so different from the cold, harsh tone he had threw your way.

You blinked, staring at the two of them as your jaw threatened to hit the floor again. This can’t be real. Him? Soft? It was like watching a lion purr—a sight so contradictory it didn’t feel real. His tone was polite, his demeanour respectful—words you would never have associated with the man five minutes ago

Your eyes darted back and forth between the two of them, struggling to make sense of what you were seeing. Jungkook, the same man who had made your day a living hell, now stood before Seokjin like an obedient younger brother. It was unsettling, to say the least.

He wasn’t just polite—he was soft. Gentle, even.

You couldn’t stop staring. The way he tilted his head slightly when he spoke to Jin, the way his hands relaxed at his sides, no longer tense or clenched. It was so different from the version of him you knew, it almost felt like you were looking at a completely different person.

Your fingers twitched at your side, itching to pinch yourself. Maybe you were dreaming. Or hallucinating. Because the Jungkook you knew? He didn’t do soft. And yet, here he was, proving you wrong with every breath. The man who had made it his mission to make you feel two inches tall was suddenly soft and sweet with Seokjin? It didn’t make sense.

But the warmth in his expression lingered, and for reasons you couldn’t explain, it made your chest tighten. He was more than what you’d seen so far… wasn’t he?

Jin’s face lit up with a bright smile as he nodded at Jungkook. Turning away, he gave Namjoon and Taehyung a light nudge to follow him.

Namjoon responded with a quick nod, a broad grin spreading across his face as he moved to join them.

Taehyung, however, didn’t move. Instead, he slumped further into his chair, crossing his arms loosely and leaning back with a loud, exaggerated sigh. His lips pressed into a pout as he stared at the ceiling like the very idea of moving was a personal offense. It was no secret that Jeon Enterprises and Kim Enterprises were very close; both companies worked hand in hand. Even Jungkook, Jimin, and Taehyung went to the same school and college together. Their entire childhood and teenage years were spent together, and they were still together. All three of them were always in the news, and always together too. Jungkook knew Taehyung like the back of his hand along with his antics.

Namjoon glanced over, eyebrows furrowing in that “here we go again” way of his as he caught sight of Taehyung’s antics. “Seriously?” he asked, his tone half amused, half exasperated. His hands found their way to his hips, as he watched Taehyung flap his arms against the chair’s armrests.

Taehyung raised his hand in the air, palm out, as if announcing something grand. “No!”  he exclaimed, dragging the word out as he slowly pushed himself up from his seat, slowly, deliberately, making it as dramatic as possible before turning to Seokjin. “I won’t, hyung. I refuse.”

Seokjin didn’t react right away. He merely tilted his head, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly, making it clear he wasn’t impressed. His lips pressed into a thin line as he let out a quiet sigh, shaking his head. The slight twitch at the corner of his mouth suggested he was trying very hard not to roll his eyes. His gaze shifted to Namjoon, wordlessly asking, Is this brat for real?

Namjoon only shrugged, an almost conspiratorial grin spreading across his face, as if he found the whole thing more entertaining than annoying. They both turned their attention back to Taehyung, who didn’t care—if anything, their reactions only fueled his theatrics.  "NO," Taehyung declared, his voice firm, though his lips twitched with the hint of a smile.

“What now?” Seokjin asked finally, his voice calm, dangerously calm, but the words that tumbled out were tight. It wasn’t loud, but it didn’t need to be—it was the kind of calm that warned you not to push your luck. His piercing eyes bored into Taehyung, sharp and calculating, a reminder that behind the soft features was a mind you didn’t want to cross.  The sharp edge to it made you flinch, even though the question wasn’t directed at you.

The tension in the room shifted as even Taehyung hesitated for a second, his hand dropping to his side as he shifted under Jin’s obdurate stare. But within minutes he was back to his usual self.

You stood in the corner, half-forgotten, watching the scene unfold as if you were invisible. For a moment, it felt like you were intruding on a private family argument. They were so lost in their little world that none of them seemed to notice you lingering.  The ridiculousness of the scene was almost enough to make you forget the tension lingering in the air. Almost.

Seokjin’s calm demeanour held stable as he waited for Taehyung’s next move, the silence stretching just long enough to make even you hold your breath.

But Taehyung, being Taehyung, jabbed his finger in Jungkook's direction without even sparing him a glance. “He didn’t invite me! Just you, hyung. Just you,” he said, voice laced with mock hurt. Namjoon sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair as he shook his head, but a soft smile tugged at his lips. How could he stay mad? Taehyung was his little brother, and no matter how ridiculous the stunt, even when they bordered on absurd, he couldn’t help but find it endearing.

Taehyung’s arms crossed over his chest, his pout deepening as he stuck his bottom lip out, eyes narrowing as he watched Seokjin expectantly.

“An invitation? Really? You want an invitation?” Seokjin asked, his voice flat and deadpan, like he couldn’t believe he was even entertaining this ridiculous request. “What is this, a wedding? You want calligraphy and wax seals?”

Taehyung’s pout deepened, his gaze shifting dramatically to the side as he huffed. "Please would do," His voice a mix of childish demand and mock offense, his eyes flicking to Seokjin for any sign of approval.

 “A proper invite,” he huffed. “With manners. A simple please.”

Jimin couldn’t hold back his laugh, it came out bright and loud, like he’d just heard the funniest joke. "What?!" he snorted, stepping forward with an amused glint in his eyes.

 His laughter only grew as he straightened, wiping a fake tear from his eye before stepping toward Taehyung. “From Jungkook? Oh, Tae, you’re delusional.” he said, his voice a mockingly sweet coo.

Taehyung’s brow twitched, and he shoved Jimin away, glaring at him. “Don’t call me delusional,” he snapped. “And stop laughing. It’s not that funny.”

Jimin, still laughing, straightened up and threw an arm around Taehyung’s shoulders. “Oh, but it is, Tae-Tae,” he teased, dragging out the nickname with enough sugar to cause cavities.

Taehyung immediately shoved him off. “Don’t call me that!” he barked, though his glare wavered when Jimin stumbled backward, his laughter echoing in the room.

“Let’s be real,” Jimin said, wiping a fake tear from his eye. “Jungkook saying please? You’ve got better odds of him baking us cupcakes with love letters on top.”

Seokjin watched the entire scene unfold with a quiet sigh, his arms falling to his sides as he shook his head. “Bloody idiots,” he muttered under his breath, though his eyes betrayed the fondness he felt for them all.

Jungkook, who had been leaning against the wall with the air of someone far too cool to care, quirked an eyebrow. He didn’t say anything—he didn’t need to. The faint smirk on his lips said it all: “Not happening.”

“See?” Jimin said, gesturing toward Jungkook with a wide grin, as if the smirk was proof enough of what he’d been saying.

Taehyung huffed, rolling his eyes as he glared at Jungkook. "He’s insufferable." he muttered, his voice flat but dripping with monotony. He threw the words out with the kind of disinterest that only Taehyung could manage, as though even arguing was beneath him.

“Always has been,” Jimin agreed cheerfully, giving Taehyung a playful pat on the shoulder.

“You want an invite?” Seokjin deadpanned, cutting through the noise like a knife. “Fine. Jungkook, invite him.”

Jungkook didn’t even look up. “No.”

The room fell silent for a beat before Jimin broke into another fit of laughter. “I told you!” he howled, practically doubling over again. “That guy would rather eat his shoe than say the p-word.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Taehyung muttered, though the corner of his mouth twitched.

Jimin grinned, his eyes sparkling mischievously. “What’s the matter, Tae? Expecting something special from him? Maybe a song, a serenade, flowers—”

“Shut up,” Taehyung snapped, his face turning red as he swatted at Jimin His glare faltering just enough to reveal a flicker of amusement behind his annoyed facade.

Namjoon, trying to keep it together, clamped a hand over his mouth, his shoulders shaking slightly with suppressed laughter. Seokjin did the same, clearing his throat to hide the grin threatening to break free. You couldn’t hold back either, a soft laugh slipping from your lips. The sound of it made everyone snap their heads in your direction, and you immediately went still.

“Oh, for the love of—” Taehyung groaned, turning to Jimin abruptly, the chair scraping loudly as he shoved it back. “This is ridiculous. Forget it. I’m not playing this game.”

“You’re still mad, aren’t you?” Jimin pressed, a laugh already escaping as he took a step back, clearly enjoying pushing Taehyung’s buttons.

“Like I care!” Taehyung shot back, his hands gesturing wildly before he turned on his heel. He glared at Jungkook one last time. “Who’d want to spend time with a jerk like him anyway?”

You couldn’t help but agree, nodding your head. It was truly, genuinely, sincerely, honestly the most truthful statement you'd heard all day. Even Jungkook chuckled at Taehyung's behaviour, and your gaze snapped back to Jungkook. You stared at him in disbelief; you never thought you'd see this man smiling. Yet here he was, standing in all his glory, proving you wrong.  Jungkook? Laughing? Relaxed? It was like spotting a unicorn in the wild. For the first time, he didn’t look like the insufferable boss you were growing to despise. He looked...earth-shatteringly handsome. You cursed under your breath, clenching your fists to keep from staring too long.

It made you feel like your brain was short-circuiting. Here was this asshole of a man, acting like he was above it all, and yet… he was smiling. It made him look almost… normal.

Why was he so ridiculously handsome? He was a jerk, a complete ass, yet... there was something about him. He was perfect boyfriend material, especially with those tattoos. You'd seen them in magazines, but you wouldn't mind seeing them in real life.

He was a jerk, but otherwise, he was perfect boyfriend material, especially with those tattoos. You'd seen them in magazines, but you wouldn't mind seeing them in real life.

You shook your head abruptly, as if physically trying to dislodge the thought. Nope. Absolutely not. Stop it.

Why were you thinking all this nonsense?

Because no matter how annoyingly perfect he looked in that moment—relaxed, smirking, and effortlessly magnetic—you knew better. He wasn’t your type. Not even close. You were way too smart to fall for someone as much of a piece of shit as he was.

As soon as your eyes met Jungkook’s, your heart dropped into your stomach.  Your legs wobbled, the ground beneath you suddenly felt unstable. You felt like the world had stopped.  The only thing keeping you upright was the edge of the table you leaned against, gripping it so tightly your knuckles turned white. It was like he had forgotten you were even there, but now that he remembered... you were in trouble.

Your thoughts were a mess, a rush of panic flooding your veins. Please, don't fire me. Please don't fire me, you repeated over and over in your mind. His stare made you feel like a sheep waiting to be devoured by a wolf—helpless and small.

Jungkook opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Jimin’s voice cut through, loud but tensed. "Why are you still standing here?" he asked, his eyes darting nervously between you and Jungkook. "I'm sure you have work to do."

You nodded quickly, too quickly, your head bobbing furiously in agreement.

“What work, Jimin?” Jungkook snapped, his voice low and brimming with frustration. “She’s fired,” he declared, sending a shiver down your spine. His words felt like a physical blow, the weight of them crushing your chest. You could barely hear the rest of his sentence as panic drowned out everything else—I've had enough of her…

What to do now?

Cry, a voice whispered in the back of your head.

Jimin, however, wasn’t having any of it. “Enough, Jungkook!” he shot back, his voice hard and commanding. The sharpness in Jimin’s words was like a shield between you and Jungkook’s anger. You could see the way Jungkook’s expression shifted—he was still seething, but Jimin left no room for argument.

“She isn’t fired, and it’s final,” Jimin said. You could see the muscles in his jaw twitching as he tried to control his temper.

Jungkook opened his mouth to retort, but Jimin cut him off with a simple wave of his hand, motioning for you to leave. You didn’t need to be told twice. You bolted from the conference room, not even daring to look back. You weren’t sure whether to be more terrified of Jungkook or grateful to Jimin. You knew you’d messed up—it was your fault—but Jimin had chosen to take your side, and you couldn’t understand why.

You sprinted down the hall toward the elevator. Your hands trembled as you jabbed—no, banged—the elevator button for the 26th floor. The wait felt agonizingly long.

When the elevator finally dinged open, you stumbled out, half-running to your desk. Collapsing into your chair, you let out a shaky breath and buried your face in your arms on the desk. Your head fell onto your desk with a loud thud.

What had just happened?

God, your first day almost became your last.

You took a deep, steadying breath and pushed yourself upright, gripping the edge of your desk to ground yourself. This isn’t the time to wallow, you thought, brushing your hair back from your face with trembling fingers. You couldn’t afford to crumble now.

You can’t mess up again, you reminded yourself, wiping a hand over your face. Jimin might’ve saved you today, but luck won’t always be there neither… he. Luck was fleeting. It wasn’t something you trusted. Not with your history. You let out a dry laugh under your breath—luck and you were like oil and water. You were the ultimate symbol of bad luck, and that delightfully beautiful director of Jeon Enterprises had simply taken pity on you. Yes, it wasn’t luck. It was Jimin’s mercy, and you couldn’t count on it happening twice. Especially not when your boss—the arrogant bastard himself—was likely already sharpening his knives for round two.

The thought of Jungkook—his dark, piercing gaze—still lingered in your mind, but you forced yourself to focus. He was a devil, no doubt, and you... you were just the unlucky fool who happened to cross his path.

You couldn't afford to mess up again. Play it safe, you told yourself. Do your job right and keep your head down. You couldn’t give him another reason to unleash his wrath.

Your eyes fell to the stack of files in front of you, and a sinking feeling hit you hard in the stomach. The pile seemed to grow taller with each breath you took. The next meeting was only thirty minutes away

You glanced at the files scattered across your desk. Focus, you reminded yourself, slapping your cheeks lightly to snap out of it. The next meeting was in thirty minutes, and you didn’t have the luxury of time to curse your misfortune or that insufferable man.

Your eyes darted over the papers, frustration bubbling up as you began sifting through them. The previous secretary—whoever they were—had left behind a tangled mess. A spectacularly awful mess.

 How was this even possible?

You could almost feel your blood pressure rise as you examined the glaring errors.  The deadlines were completely out of sync with the client’s expectations, the budget allocations were so far off it was laughable, and one section even referenced an entirely different project altogether. If this wasn’t fixed in time for the meeting, it would be a complete disaster, and you were the one who’d have to face the consequences.

“This is a joke,” you muttered. You grabbed a pen, tapping it furiously against the table as your brain raced to come up with a plan.

Half an hour. That’s all you had to fix this disaster before you had to present it to a room full of people, including him.

"Fuck you! Whoever you are." you muttered under your breath, pushing your sleeves up, ignoring the beads of sweat forming on your forehead. Get it together, you scolded yourself. “This isn’t rocket science.” Your voice cracked slightly as you muttered the words aloud, as if hearing them would calm the storm raging inside you.

You grabbed the laptop, pulling up emails and client notes to cross-check the project details. The keyboard clacked furiously under your hands. Your brows furrowed in concentration, your lips pressed into a tight line. You clicked open the soft copy of the file, eyes scanning the screen quickly.

You stole a glance at the clock, and your heart nearly stopped. Twenty minutes left. Fuck.

The dull throb behind your temples was growing each passing minute, but you didn’t have the luxury to slow down. Tears? Not an option. You didn’t have time for that. Not when your whole career was teetering on the edge of disaster.

Get through the day without Jungkook turning you into his next verbal target.

 The mistakes were too obvious to miss, too dangerous to ignore. If the client saw these errors, it wasn’t just your job on the line—it was Jeon Enterprises' reputation. And that would mean your boss, Jungkook, would tear you apart, slowly and painfully.

 what have you done to deserve this.

Your fingers slammed against the keyboard as you raced through the sections. The section referencing the wrong project? Gone, replaced with the right one. The mismatched deadlines? Adjusted. The budget allocations that didn’t even make sense? Rewritten, recalculated, and double-checked.

You needed to print the corrected version. Your hands trembled as you stared at the screen, unsure of where to even begin this process. This wasn’t just a small mistake anymore—it felt like the whole day was falling apart in real time. You stared at the screen with mounting dread. Print. Where?

You slapped the print button, watching as the computer confirmed that it was printing, but your brain was far from settled. Printer? Where’s the damn printer? Your heart pounded as you stood, snatching up your blazer and dashing out of your office.

The hallway felt endless as you looked down the corridor. You felt a wave of frustration, the kind you’d never experienced before. You could have screamed, a sound that would shake the walls, but you couldn’t. Instead, you forced a deep breath through your nose and tried to calm yourself.

Finally, you spotted the printer at the end of the hall—right by the breakroom, its small glowing light blinking. It should have been a simple solution, but when you saw the machine, all you felt was pure, hot rage. Why is it always this difficult?

Why did it feel like everything was against you today?

Because of course, it jammed halfway through. Your fingers gripped the edge of the counter as you leaned down, yanking at the paper slot with all your might. The printer groaned, then jammed, and you let out an angry sound that came out as a strangled groan.

“Come on, you stupid thing—work!” you hissed, muttering curses that seemed to make you feel worse. Stupid thing!

You slammed the print button again, your fingers stabbing at the machine. Finally, the printer whirred, clicked, and then began its slow, steady rhythm. You let out a shaky breath, pressing your hand against your forehead to steady the dizziness threatening the edges of your focus.

Finally, the documents started coming out. You grabbed them. You ran your hands over the pages, smoothing them down compulsively as though that would make them more trustworthy. You clutched it like it was your lifeline. Not perfect, but it'll have to do. Once back in your cabin, you shoved the papers into a folder, your chest still tight.

The clock on the wall caught your attention.

Ten minutes left.

 You could barely breathe as you walked out of your office, your feet moving almost on autopilot. In no time, you found yourself standing in front of Jungkook’s office.

You knocked. Once. Twice. And then… you waited.

 You closed your eyes briefly, took a steadying breath. You bit your lip, and raised your hand to knock thrice.

"Come in!" Jungkook’s voice rang out, gruff and loud, cutting through the air. You hesitated for a second before pushing the door open, and every head in the room snapped toward you. You stepped inside, your heart racing as you greeted them with a polite but fake smile, trying your best to keep it together. Only Jimin smiled back. The others... they just stared, like you were some strange creature. Jin and Namjoon looked shocked—why? What was going on? And then there was Taehyung, his eyes wide with what could only be described as disbelief.

Jimin spoke first, his voice light and effortless, and you couldn't help but thank your lucky stars—or maybe it was just Jimin being Jimin. “You need something?”

You gave a short nod and turned to face Jungkook. His eyes narrowed, his arms crossing over his chest, his whole posture screaming annoyance.  His jaw was clenched so tight it seemed like he might snap any second. You swallowed hard, trying not to show how much his stare rattled you.

"Yeah. I was merely here to remind Mr. Jeon that the meeting starts in… like ten—no, seven minutes now," you managed to say, your voice wavering just a little as you spoke. Your hands were clenched at your sides, and you forced yourself not to fidget.

You stole a quick glance around the room. Jin and Namjoon had gone back to their own conversations, but Taehyung was still staring at you, mouth slightly open like he couldn't believe you were standing there. Jungkook still hadn’t said anything, his eyes still boring into you.

"Thank you," Jimin said, his smile soft and genuine. "He’ll be there."

You nodded once, trying not to let your relief show too much. You gave a quick, polite bow of your head, then turned, making your way to the door, your steps hurried but controlled. As you left the room, you couldn’t help but think—Jimin was an angel, working for a devil. You weren’t sure what you would’ve done without him today.

As you walked out of his cabin, you caught the faintest sound of Taehyung’s voice drifting behind you.

“Damn, dude! She’s something. She must be… to get you this worked up. Wow! I loved it.”

You didn’t linger to hear the rest, though. It was like your feet were moving faster than your brain, the urgency propelling you back to your cabin. You sprinted to your desk, your hands shaking as you skimmed through the pages one final time. You stapled them together. You had to present this with confidence, one mistake and Jungkook would tear you apart.

Five minutes left.

“You’ve got this. Just fake it. Fake it all the way.”

Your heels clicked sharply against the marble floors as you made your way to the conference room. Your grip on the file tightened, your knuckles white. When you reached the door. With a firm push, you stepped inside.

Walking to the table, you laid down the stack of updated project files, replacing the older copies. Once every seat had the corrected file, you finally slid into your chair. The leather seat creaked softly as you sank into it, and you folded your hands tightly in your lap to steady them. You darted a glance at the door, waiting for everyone's but specially Jungkook’s inevitable arrival. You flipped through the files for what felt like the hundredth time. The numbers blurred slightly before your eyes, but you forced yourself to focus.

The sharp sound of the door opening made your head snap up. Jungkook walked in with the same air of authority that always seemed to announce his presence before he even spoke. His eyes locked onto you, narrowing instantly, and his jaw clenched so tight you swore you heard his teeth grind.

You stifled a sigh, biting the inside of your cheek to keep your face neutral. What now? You wondered bitterly, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. Jungkook didn’t just dislike you—he hated you—like, deep, unrelenting hatred. For what reason? Who knew. And frankly, you didn’t care.  If you could, you would’ve told him to take his reasons, his anger, and his goddamn temper tantrums and shove them up his perfectly tailored ass, but you knew that wouldn’t help you keep your job.

He moved around the room with precision, as he made his way to his seat. His attention was fixed on you, like you were some annoying fly he wanted to swat. You straightened in your chair. He dropped into his chair with an air of casual authority and grace of someone far too confident for their own good.

For a moment, your traitorous thoughts drifted. He was handsome—annoyingly so. Sharp jawline, paradoxically piercing boba eyes, and a frame that looked like it was carved by a sculptor. But his attitude? That was enough to ruin the whole package. If only his personality matched his looks. If only he wasn’t such a pompous, insufferable jerk. Instead of charm, he had an ego the size of the goddamn building. If he had even an ounce of kindness or respect to him, he would’ve been perfect. But no, instead he walked with the kind of arrogance that could suffocate a room, his back rigid and his posture as stiff as the stick lodged firmly up his ass.

You shook the thought from your head. He wasn’t worth your time.

The door opened again, and this time it was the clients. Jungkook stood, but just barely.

He simply stood halfway and gave a curt nod that was so half-hearted you wondered if it hurt his pride to be polite. God forbid Mr. Perfect lower himself to basic manners. His expression didn’t change—stoic and unbothered—while yours shifted into a polite mask. Maybe you were expecting too much. Maybe you were the problem. You slid your chair closer to the table and sat down next to him. You offered the clients a small smile, hoping to compensate for Jungkook’s complete lack of warmth.

But his eyes. God, his eyes. They didn’t stray far from you.

You placed the documents in front of him. You kept your gaze fixed on the table, careful not to meet his boba eyes. “Here! Mr. Jeon,” you whispered, your voice as even and professional as you could manage. The last thing you wanted was to give him even an inch to criticize you.

Before you could pull your hand back, his fingers closed around the file. His hand was warm—too warm—and for just a moment, your cold, dainty fingers brushed against his. The warmth of his hand lingered on yours, and you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away. Your body felt paralyzed, shocked, maybe even mesmerized by the sensation.  You couldn’t pull away—not because you didn’t want to, but because you physically couldn’t.

Jungkook’s hand retreated first, leaving your fingers tingling. You leaned back in your chair, clearing your throat as heat crept up your neck. You turned your attention to the clients, offering a polite smile. They exchanged a few glances, their expressions unreadable.

Why are they looking at me like that?

Before you could figure it out, Jungkook’s voice cut through the silence, quiet and low. "Why are you making that face?"

You turned toward him, startled. “Huh?”

He didn’t look at you, his gaze fixed on the papers in front of him as he leaned back in his seat. His voice was soft, like a whisper, but it hit you like a punch to the gut.

“You look like you’re constipating,” he said, his tone casual, smooth, utterly calm—and utterly cruel and casual, as though commenting on the weather.

Your face fell. What did he just say? Your mouth fell open slightly in horror, heat rushing to your face. He did not just say that. You glared at the side of his face, imagining all the ways you could strangle him with the tie he wore so smugly. Murder was illegal, but maybe, just maybe, you could make an exception.

 Ignore him. He’s not worth it or… should you just strangle him? Oh, you wanted to strangle him. No, you needed to strangle him. Who even says that? You huffed, straightening in your seat and glaring at the file in front of you.

Jungkook flipped open the folder, his sharp eyes scanning the documents.

And then it happened—a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, so subtle you almost missed it. “Let’s begin,” he said smoothly, finally turning his attention to the clients. But just before he did, his gaze flicked to you, brief but searing.

The meeting began.

The meeting dragged on. Your hand ached from jotting down notes, your fingers stiff as they moved across the page. All you could think about was how Jungkook managed to handle these clients—their demands were endless, their standards sky-high. Jungkook, somehow, handled their lofty standards with an ease that almost infuriated you. How could someone so insufferable be so damn good at this? You, however, were drained. Mentally, physically, emotionally. All you wanted was to go home, curl up, and forget this entire ordeal. But the clients showed no signs of slowing, so neither could you. You scribbled furiously, keeping up with the endless stream of requests and comments, your hand cramping around the pen. Every now and then, you stole glances at the clock, silently begging for it all to end.

Finally, after what felt like hours, the meeting came to an end.

 The clients rose, shaking Jungkook’s hand with smiles that didn’t quite reach their eyes. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Jeon,” one of them said, their tone oozing professionalism. Then their gaze flicked to you, offering a curt nod—no words, no acknowledgment of your work. You swallowed the frustration bubbling up in your chest and nodded back, forcing a tight-lipped smile. Typical. You bit the inside of your cheek, swallowing the bitter taste of resentment as they exited the room. Well, women in corporate field.

The door clicked shut, leaving you alone with Jungkook. Your mind was hyper-aware of his presence.

He was leaning back, the picture of ease, his chair swinging slightly from left to right. His left leg rested over his right, one arm draped casually across the armrest. He didn’t speak, didn’t make a sound, but the intensity of his stare was enough. You didn’t dare look up. Not after what had happened earlier. Not after what he said earlier.

You stole a glance, his tie had loosened slightly, the top button of his shirt undone. When he did that? He looked like he owned the entire world, and the infuriating thing was—he probably did.

You remembered what you thought while applying for this job: How hard could it be to work for him?

You’d found out the hard way, within mere hours.

Jeon Jungkook wasn’t just hard to work for—he was impossible. A devil in designer suits. A man who had no mercy and no patience, especially not for someone like you. Your first day had made that abundantly clear in the worst way possible.

Jeon Jungkook wasn’t someone to take lightly. He was a storm you hadn’t prepared for, and it was already threatening to swallow you whole.

You pushed the glass door open, ready to step out, but then you heard it—his voice, loud and clear.

"Pebble!"

You froze. Slowly, you turned around, almost colliding with the door in the process. His eyes locked onto yours, and a subtle smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. It wasn’t the friendly kind—it was something else. Something that made you feel both irritated and, disturbingly, giddy.

"What?" you muttered, your voice low and unsure. You weren't able to understand why you gripped it ever so tightly.

He stood from his chair, rising with an ease that felt effortless, his hands casually buried in his pockets. His movements were smooth, deliberate, as if he had all the time in the world to examine you. He was far too good-looking for your sanity, far too composed, far too everything.

 Fuck him, and fuck your good sense.

What was this? Why were you feeling so fragile in front of him? You didn’t have time to figure it out because, in three long strides, he was standing in front of you, so close that the scent of his cologne wrapped around you.  His eyes were still on you, as if he were studying you—no, devouring you with just a glance. You wanted to look away, but you couldn’t. And that, right there, made you even more furious.

Is this guy stupid? you wondered. What was the point of staring like that? It felt intrusive, unnerving, yet somehow, you couldn’t tear your own gaze away.

 Staring, in your book, was the hallmark of cheap behaviour, reserved for people with no manners or boundaries. But he somehow pulled it off, with that smirk and those features and that way he seemed to have everything in the world under control. As if his ridiculous good looks gave him a free pass.

"Coffee. In my office."

"Huh?" was all you could manage, your voice barely above a whisper, still unsure of what was happening.

He tsked, shaking his head like you were hopeless. “You heard me. Black. No sugar. Ms…” he trailed off, his brow furrowing slightly.

Your eyes widened in realization. He didn’t know your name. Or worse—he hadn’t even tried to know it until now. Your throat tightened, and you opened your mouth, about to respond, but before a single word could leave your lips, he finished with,

"Pebble."

Your mouth hung open, as you watched him leave.

Pebble.

He had just called you Pebble.

You stood there, staring, stunned, unable to believe what just happened.

He was the most disrespectful, irritating, unbearable person you had ever met.

The anger built up in you until you couldn’t stand still anymore. You stomped your foot hard against the ground.

You would make him regret this.

Oh, you absolutely would.

With a resigned sigh, you turned toward the elevator, dragging your feet. At least you now knew where the coffee machine was—down at the far end of the floor. Great. More walking. You hadn’t even done this much cardio in the past year, let alone in a single day. No wonder all the women here looked so fit—they practically lived on their feet.

When you reached the elevator, you noticed him—Jungkook—already stepping into it. Your pace slowed instinctively. No way were you getting in that elevator with him, even for a single second. He wouldn’t stop the elevator for you anyway—he was too much of a jerk to care.

But when had life ever gone according to your plans?

Before you could change direction, you heard the sound of the doors closing and sliding back open.

Oh, hell no. Your body tensed. You didn't want to step in there with him, but you didn’t have a choice. You dragged your feet reluctantly. The annoyance in his eyes deepened, and a muscle in his jaw twitched, like he was already regretting his decision to wait for you.

Finally, you reached the door.

“Get fucking in, woman.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You stepped inside, muttering curses in your head, and the doors slid shut with a soft ding.

 You didn’t dare move, didn’t dare look at him, but you could feel his gaze lingering on you, like he was trying to figure you out or, worse, punish you for existing.

Maybe he was pissed.

And you? You couldn’t decide if you hated him more in this moment or if you just wanted to get out of this damn elevator as quickly as possible.

“I thought you had work here,” he said, his tone casual.

“Huh?” you managed, surprised.

He shook his head, as if you were already the most frustrating thing he’d encountered that day.

“Do you know anything else besides ‘huh?’”

You opened your mouth to retort, but he didn’t wait. “I said, I thought you had work here.”

“What work?” you snapped. His eyes flared. But the bastard smirked, like he’d been expecting this reaction.

“What meeting do we have next, Pebble?” His voice was smooth, almost playful.

Your stomach dropped. Pebble. He had just said it again. But. You froze. His words lingered in your mind like a bad omen, but all that filled your head was white noise. The name of the company… where was it? Shit.

He chuckled, the sound low and smooth, just to make sure you knew how badly you’d messed up. “You need to collect some files from marketing and sales team. You forgot.”

The damn files. I forgot? You swallowed hard, glancing around the elevator as if the walls could give you an answer.

“What are you trying to do—break the glass and jump into the sales and marketing floor?” he said, his tone as bored as his expression. His words felt cruel, but you knew there was a bite of truth to them.

You shook your head, cheeks heating as you mentally berated yourself. You could feel the heat creeping up your neck, embarrassed and annoyed. More walking. That’s all you could think about now.

The elevator doors opened, and Jungkook stepped out first. He glanced up at you, raising an eyebrow, and for a split second, you thought—just maybe—he might say something remotely decent. But no, that was far too much to hope for. His lips curled into that damn smirk as he turned away and said, “Coffee. On my desk. In five minutes.”

Before you could even respond, he turned around and walked away.

You stepped out of the elevator, its door closing behind you. You let out a frustrated exhale. God, I hate him. You made your way to the coffee machine. You prepared the coffee just like he’d ordered, and even the smell made your stomach churn. The bitterness of it matched the bitterness radiating from him.  No wonder he was always so damn miserable. A person who drank this much bitter coffee could only have a bitter heart.

You walked down the hall to his office. The door was slightly ajar, and you knocked softly, holding the cup in your hands.

“Come in,” he barked again from inside.

You pushed the door open and stepped inside, placing the coffee on his desk. He was sitting at his desk, back straight, his sharp features focused on his laptop. The desk was neat, pristine, every paper and pen in its place, a stark contrast to the chaos on your desk.

“Here, Mr. Jeon,” you said, your voice tight with forced politeness.

He didn’t even look at you. Instead, he grabbed the cup, bringing it to his lips like it was the most important thing in the world. His eyes fluttered closed as he took the first sip, and you watched in disbelief as he sighed deeply, as though he’d just tasted heaven.

“Good,” he muttered, but it wasn’t directed at you—it was all about the coffee. Your stomach turned at the absurdity of it. He didn’t even acknowledge the fact that you’d stood there, prepared it, and handed it to him.

“Send Jimin in my office. Now, leave,” he demanded, his voice flat, as if he were speaking to a wall, not a person.

 Every inch of you wanted to pull his hair out, to throw something across his perfectly organized desk. Instead, you nodded stiffly.

“Sure, Mr. Jeon,” you said, forcing the words past your clenched teeth before turning on your heel and leaving.

Once outside, the first thing you did was head straight for Jimin, who was at his desk, buried in papers. His workspace was cluttered with post-its, notes, and scribbles. His eyes lifted when you approached, and though his face showed signs of being busy, his greeting was polite as ever.

“What brings you here, Ms. …,” he began, with a soft smile.

“Mr. Jeon wants you in his office,” you replied, keeping it brief. You didn't have the energy to engage in any more small talk.

"Why?" Jimin asked, as he stood up, closing the file in his hands and sliding his blazer on with a sharp tug. You just shrugged. Jimin gave a small nod.

“Alright,” he said, adjusting his blazer. His tone indicated he didn’t mind being interrupted. “I’ll head in there.” You watched as he walked toward the hallway.

You followed your own path toward the marketing department first. You handed over the files, your hands sore from too much writing, before heading toward the sales department. The constant movement was starting to wear you down, but you couldn’t let it show. You did the same at the sales department, before finally making your way back to your office, your feet aching more than ever. This is going to be a long day, you thought, pressing a hand to your lower back as you settled into your chair.

Before you could catch a break, the clock ticked, signaling that it was time for the next meeting. You picked yourself up again, shoulders sore and heavy, and made your way back toward Jungkook’s office.

You knocked on the door before stepping in, your hand pressing into the wood with slightly trembling fingers. This time Jimin was in there with him, seated on the couch. He looked agitated—hands running through his hair as he exchanged words with Jungkook.

You hesitated at the threshold. You didn’t want to intrude on their conversation. You quickly turned on your heel, shaking your head as you backed out. These guys were insane.

You closed the door behind you with a gentle push and let out a shaky exhale. Your hands gripped your notebook tightly as you walked back toward the hallway.

The next meetings were a blur. For reasons you couldn’t quite explain, you found yourself relieved when Jungkook skipped every other meeting for the day. He didn't show up, and Jimin took over. The clients didn’t seem to mind the change, and in fact, it made things easier. Jimin’s presence was soothing.  His voice was soft, his smile was kind. He spoke in careful sentences, his calm composure like a reassuring presence. Working with him was smoother, quieter—lovelier, even. He made the chaos of the day seem more manageable, and you found yourself wishing you found yourself wishing you could work for Jimin, just him.

But you quickly shut that thought down. That wasn’t possible, not when you were stuck in this job, tied to Jungkook. No matter how much you hated it, you had to stick around. It was unviable to leave, even though every part of you screamed for the chance to escape. You have to stick around him.

As the last meeting came to an end, you gathered the files and followed Jimin out of the conference room. He took the files from your hands. You were thankful for his help, but the lingering feeling of being under the spotlight didn’t fade. You hated the attention, and of course, everyone would stare. Having the director of the company himself helping you with your work was far too big of a deal. The eyes of all the female employees had burned into you as you walked out. You couldn’t shake the sense of discomfort, and it only worsened as you stepped into the elevator with Jimin.

"Mr. Park, you really don’t have to do this," you said, offering a shy smile as the elevator doors slid shut behind you.

Jimin, however, seemed unfazed. He gave a lazy smile, his voice light as he answered. "Oh, I’m not doing it for you." Jimin leaned casually against the wall, eyes scanning the floor numbers as they lit up.

You blinked, confused, your brows knitting together. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

He turned his head, flashing you a mischievous grin. "It’s more for me, really."

Your frown deepened. "For you?" You couldn’t hide your confusion, but Jimin just chuckled, clearly entertained by your reaction.

"You see," he began, shifting slightly to face you fully. His eyes sparkled with a playful yet sincere gleam. "I come from old money. I just can't stand the idea of a woman doing something like that when I’m around. Makes me feel like I’m failing somewhere. I’ve got this fragile ego, you know?" His voice was light, teasing, but his smile softened as he continued. "It just feels better to help out. Plus, it’s... good manners."

"Yeah?" You asked, tilting your head slightly, your eyebrows furrowing as you tried to make sense of his words. The slight smirk tugging at his lips told you he knew you were lost but didn’t care enough to explain. Instead, he only shrugged nonchalantly, his expression  so casual it almost felt dismissive.

Before you could respond further, the elevator dinged softly, and the doors slid open. Jimin stepped out first. You followed behind as you adjusted your grip on the files. He led the way to your cabin, his presence drawing a few curious glances from colleagues. You felt those stares prickling at your back again, but Jimin seemed entirely unbothered. He walked you to your cabin, while you struggled to keep up with his pace. When he finally reached your desk, he placed the stack of five thick files down with practiced ease, brushing invisible dust off his hands like it was no big deal.

"All set. Anything else you need before I head out?" he asked, his voice light as he straightened his blazer.

Thanks again, Mr. Park," you said, shaking your head.

Jimin gave a small nod in return, stepping back. Just as he turned to leave, he glanced over his shoulder. "Take care, pretty," he said, his tone casual, yet the words felt deliberate.

Your hands froze mid-motion as your head snapped up, eyes widening in surprise. Heat rushed to your face, and you felt the unmistakable blush spreading across your cheeks like wildfire. You stared at the empty doorway where Jimin had disappeared, his words echoing in your mind.

"What the hell," you muttered under your breath. Forcing yourself to focus, you picked up the files, flipping through the pages with renewed determination. It was time to finish up for the day, but not before ensuring everything was in order for tomorrow. Your fingers worked quickly, your eyes scanning schedules and notes, the lingering warmth on your cheeks refusing to fade completely.

When you finally finished your work, you grabbed the file Jungkook had instructed you to complete and headed to his office. As you approached, you noticed the door slightly ajar. Through the small gap, you could see Jimin sitting in one of the chairs in front of Jungkook’s desk. Jungkook, on the other hand, sat with his brows furrowed in a way that seemed permanently etched into his face. It was a wonder Jimin didn’t crack under the weight of his perpetual grimace. If he wasn’t so ridiculously good-looking, you were certain his demeanour would’ve been a massive letdown.

"Are you even human?" Jimin's voice rose, his tone laced with disbelief as he leaned forward, his palms slapping against the desk with a dull thud. His lips pressed tightly together. His words seemed to hit like a quiet plea, but Jungkook didn’t seem to care. His eyes stayed glued to his file as he flipped the pages.

"I am dying over here. I am that tired and you are one of the reasons behind it. Don’t you dare ignore me, Jeon Jungkook!" Jimin continued, his voice a mixture of disbelief and frustration. His words grew louder as he leaned back in his chair, throwing his hands up in the air, as if trying to physically puncture Jungkook’s indifference.

"Huh?" Jungkook’s voice was flat, almost absent, as he gave Jimin just a single glance, his eyes flickering for a mere millisecond before he turned back to the file in his hands. He gave a distracted nod, not sparing Jimin much more attention.

Jimin’s jaw dropped slightly, his annoyance reaching a boiling point. "Seriously!" he exclaimed. His fingers curled into loose fists as he leaned back, pacing a step before planting his hands on his hips. "You made me handle all your meetings and deal with my own workload. I’ve been running around like a headless chicken while you sit here, all cozy with your stupid papers! Do you not have any regard—"

"You're right," Jungkook said, his voice steady and matter-of-fact, cutting off Jimin’s rambling mid-sentence. He slowly closed the file in front of him and placed it neatly to the side. This time, he leaned back in his chair, his posture loosening slightly as he crossed his arms over his chest. His dark, boba eyes locked on Jimin’s. "I am sorry, hyung. You're always picking up the slack for me. I don't say it enough, but… I’m really grateful. I couldn’t do this without you."

Jimin froze for a moment, his brow furrowing as he eyed Jungkook suspiciously. His eyes narrowed, and he tilted his head, studying Jungkook as if he had just grown a second head. "Oh? What’s wrong with you?" he asked, dragging the words out slowly. He leaned forward in his chair, elbows digging into the edge of Jungkook's desk. "Show me your head. You punk, I’m sure you hit it somewhere."

Jimin shot up from his seat and lunged across the desk with inflated urgency, his hand reaching for Jungkook's head like a concerned but overly dramatic mother.

"Jimin-shi!" Jungkook exclaimed, his voice rising in protest as he swatted at Jimin’s hands. He grabbed Jimin’s wrists, prying them away from his head. His brows knitted together as he leaned back further in his chair, out of reach, glaring at Jimin. "I swear, I’ll kill you."

"There you are," Jimin said, a grin spreading across his face as he let out a sigh. He flopped back into his chair, dramatically wiping his brow as if the ordeal had been exhausting. "I was worried for nothing. Glad to see the real  grumpy, homicidal self's still here."

Before they could exchange any more words, you finally stepped forward, your knuckles rapping lightly on the doorframe.

Knock, knock.

The sound broke through, causing both their heads to snap in your direction.

For a moment, you felt rooted to the spot, like a deer caught in headlights. You tightened your grip on the file in your hands, suddenly hyper-aware of how out of place you felt. Clearing your throat, you finally stepped inside. "Sorry to interrupt," you said.

Jimin’s lips curved into a faint smile, and he tilted his head, gesturing toward the file. "It’s fine. Come in. Looks like someone’s got work to do, unlike us," he teased, his tone light.

You tried your best to force a smile onto your face—a polite, controlled, and friendly expression—but as your eyes met his. Your throat felt like it had closed up, your voice thin and wobbly. Why did he make you so nervous? Yes, he was intimidating. Yes, you’d dealt with difficult bosses before. But there was something about him—something that felt wrong, a shrill, intense warning in the back of your mind, like a distant alarm telling you danger was near.

Your heels clicked softly against the floor as you passed Jimin’s chair. He was sitting casually, his hands clasped behind his head, completely at ease as he looked over at you. You stopped beside Jungkook's desk, just behind where Jimin was sitting. "Mr. Jeon, I just finished the tasks you assigned." Your voice was soft but steady as you extended the file toward him. You forced yourself to meet his gaze, though it felt like staring into the eye of the devil. "Here’s the file. I’m leaving now, so I was wondering if there’s anything else you need before I go?"

Jungkook didn’t respond right away. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, slowly and precisely. His sharp gaze scanned your face, lingering on your forced smile before sliding down to the file you’d placed on his desk. A smirk curled at the corners of his lips, and his eyes—soft and doe-like at first glance—betrayed a sharp, predatory glint. "Actually," he drawled, his voice carried an edge that made your pulse quicken. He gestured lazily toward the towering stack of files on the far corner of his desk. "I do need something."

Your eyes widened as they darted to the stack, a silent gasp catching in your throat. The files seemed endless. You swallowed hard, glancing back at him, but his expression was unreadable. You couldn’t decide if you were more nervous or outright afraid of what was coming next. "See those files?" he continued, tilting his head slightly, his tone casual as if he were commenting on the weather. "I need them reviewed and sorted by tomorrow."

And you just stood there for a moment, trying to figure out whether you had a choice, or if you were already drowning. Tomorrow? That was impossible. You turned back to Jungkook, hoping to find some hint that he was joking, but his expression was calm and unyielding, like carved stone.

"I…" you began, but your voice faltered.

"Something wrong?" Jungkook asked, tilting his head slightly as if daring you to argue.

It was your first day, and you couldn’t understand what went wrong. You’d always thought Jungkook was handsome, admired him from the glossy pages of magazines and the distant buzz of news. You'd been excited, so excited to work for the most wanted bachelor in the continent. But now? Now, it wasn’t going as planned.

Too much work. Too much. How could anyone be expected to handle this much work? You thought you could handle challenges, but this? This felt impossible. This was ridiculous. He was ridiculous. You’d probably have to sell your soul to some demon and even then, it still wouldn’t feel enough. You couldn’t do this. You shouldn’t have to do this. But the thought of giving up? That wasn’t even an option. You wanted to scream. No. You didn't want to scream you wanted to kick him where the sun doesn't shine.

"To-tomorrow," you stammered, barely able to believe the words coming out of your mouth. You were close to snapping, but something in his gaze made you hesitate.

"Impossible?" Jungkook interrupted, his voice a low, smooth. His eyes locked on yours, the warmth in them replaced with ice. "I’m not interested in hearing any excuses. You need to understand where and for who you’re working. Workload is a usual thing here. You either do it or resign. It’s up to you. Nobody’s begging you to stay."

The words were harsh. There was no softness to them, no room for debate, no compromise. He wanted you to know that you had no power here. His small, smug smile confirmed it—a clear taunt, a game to him, and you could feel it deep in your bones. He wasn’t just being cold. No, he enjoyed this. He was tormenting you, and you knew it. He was such a sadistic being.

"Understood," you said, the words coming out of your mouth with a firmness that surprised even you.

You turned your back to him and grabbed the stack of files from where they were carelessly left. The moment you lifted them, you knew this was going to be hell. It was heavy—too heavy—far heavier than you’d expected. Your arms shook as you struggled to balance them. You almost stumbled under the sheer force of it, but you steadied yourself.

You bit your lip, fighting back the urge to ask Jimin for help. You glanced toward him, only to find that he and Jungkook were locked in a silent staring match, their gazes locked like two wolves sizing each other up.  Jimin looked like he was about to explode. You couldn’t drag him into this. He already looked like he was walking a thin line, and you didn’t want to add to the fire. Besides, Jimin looked angry enough already.

So, you started walking.

You struggled your way out of his office. Your legs wobbled under the weight, and you nearly stumbled into the doorframe as you tried to maintain your balance. You wanted to scream. You hated him. You hated everything about this. Him. His handsome face. His smug smile. His icy tone. His ridiculous expectations. In truth, you’d never felt this much resentment toward anyone. Not even your previous bosses had managed to push you this far. But Jungkook? He was something else entirely. A walking nightmare wrapped in a handsome package, and you were stuck in it.

The moment you stepped into your office, you slammed the door behind you. You were done. You were going home. You couldn’t wait to get out of here. You grabbed your bag and purse. You cursed under your breath, knowing you couldn’t leave without grabbing those files too. There was no way you were going to spend another minute in that sterile, over-designed office. You adjusted the files again, and with a final shake of your head, you stepped out of your office. Your feet moved on autopilot as you walked toward the elevators. You didn’t look back. There wasn’t any point.

You knew you’d have to come back.

You knew you’d have to face him again.

But for now, you needed to get out.

The first day had been hell, all thanks to your devilish boss.

Jungkook and Jimin stepped out of Jungkook’s office. Jimin shot a sharp glare at Jungkook, his brow furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line. Jungkook, on the other hand, wore a smug, teasing smile that danced at the corners of his mouth. He could feel Jimin’s annoyance and found it far too satisfying to ignore.

"Jiminshi," Jungkook said casually, but Jimin didn’t even give him a second glance, his jaw clenched as he exhaled sharply.

“Shut up,” Jimin snapped back without hesitation, the heat in his voice enough to make Jungkook pause for a second. It almost made him laugh, but he quickly held it back, the corners of his mouth twitching.

"Come on, Jimin. We’re already late. And Jin hyung will be mad if we get even more late," Jungkook added, his tone light but carrying an edge of urgency. His smile was easy and easygoing, the kind that always got under Jimin’s skin, and this time, it did the trick. Jimin let out a slow, exasperated breath, his shoulders slumping slightly as he let his irritation simmer down. He nodded once, fingers gripping his phone a little too tightly. His hand flexed as he tucked it back into his pocket, his gaze fixed forward as they walked towards the elevator side by side.

Jungkook pushed the button to call the elevator, and Jimin stood next to him, arms crossed, still giving off that frustrated vibe. But Jungkook could see the edges of his irritation slowly dulling. Even if Jimin was pissed, he wouldn’t stay mad for long. Jimin was always the wise one, and he knew that getting upset over Jungkook's antics wouldn’t help anything. Jin had invited them for dinner tonight, and they both knew this wasn’t just another casual evening. Jimin had told Jin about you—how Jungkook couldn’t hear your thoughts, which still felt weird and foreign to him. It was strange, unsettling in a way, and Jin had wanted to discuss it. He’d called them both over, saying he needed to talk. Jungkook was curious about what Jin had in mind. It wasn’t every day that Jin invited them over, especially not without a reason.

The elevator doors opened, and Jungkook gestured for Jimin to enter first. Jimin grumbled under his breath but didn’t argue. Jungkook stepped in behind him, and the two of them stood in silence. He was looking forward to the evening, not only to talk things out but also to meet Jin's wife. She was a kind and sweet woman. If it wasn't for Taehyung, they would have never met her. Jin had been married for years, but he rarely invited anyone over, keeping his personal life guarded. Jungkook and Jimin always looked forward to her company. Jin, on the other hand, was borderline obsessed with her. It was impossible not to notice the way he adored her. They all had to be on their best behavior when she was around, though—Jin’s protective streak was well known.

The elevator doors closed with a quiet swoosh. They descended in silence, the air feeling heavier as their thoughts swirled. Both knew this night would give them more answers, but they weren’t sure what kind of questions would arise afterward.

Jungkook and Jimin soon stepped into the reception area. The receptionist was seated at her desk, typing quickly, and her head lifted the moment she saw them. She offered a polite smile as they approached.

"Good evening, Mr. Jeon, Mr. Park," she greeted warmly. Jungkook didn’t even spare her a glance. His eyes stayed ahead as he strode past her. He could hear her thoughts—granted, not every single word, but enough. Disgusting. Intrusive. He had no shame in admitting it. He didn’t feel the need to entertain it, so he ignored her completely.

Jimin, however, was different. His easy smile came naturally as he gave her a small, polite nod. His body language was relaxed, his movements smooth as he walked beside Jungkook toward the parking lot. His gaze was neutral, a simple act of kindness that contrasted sharply with Jungkook's indifference.

They reached the parking lot, and Jimin climbed into his car, his fingers gripping the steering wheel a little tighter than usual. He had originally planned on making Jungkook drive, but the irritation bubbling in him from earlier—the way Jungkook had acted with you—made him rethink. He was annoyed, not just because of what happened, but because Jungkook’s behavior had crossed a line. It wasn’t professionalism; it was just unnecessary rudeness. Pure and simple. Jimin had half a mind to lecture him, but instead, he started the engine, the sound of it roaring to life filling the air.

But Jungkook didn’t get in his own car. His eyes weren’t on Jimin, nor were they on the road. They were locked on something—or rather, someone.

You.

You were standing by your car, your arms crossed tightly over your chest, your head bowed slightly. Your shoulders looked tense, rigid, the way they always did when you were tired. You were clearly trying to calm yourself, but your lips were moving. You were speaking to yourself, or maybe the wind, but Jungkook could see it—your face contorted into something that looked like frustration, like rage.

He observed you. His body was suddenly heavy, his thoughts distracted. You looked like you wanted to set the entire parking lot on fire. From the way your hands tightened into fists by your sides, Jungkook could tell you were seething, clearly ready to explode. He couldn’t hear your thoughts, couldn’t read your mind like he could with everyone else, but it didn’t matter. Your expression was enough. You were cursing him out, he was sure of it.

It felt wrong to stare, but he couldn’t stop himself. It was like an itch buried beneath his skin. His entire body ached to know what you were saying, but you were like a closed book—impossible to read. It irritated him. That feeling of helplessness, the itch he couldn’t scratch. He hated not knowing exactly what you were thinking, hated that he couldn’t tap into the storm swirling behind those eyes. You looked like you wanted to strangle him, and the idea actually made him chuckle darkly to himself.

As much as he hated to admit it, there was something oddly magnetic about you. You looked so exhausted, so ready to shatter, your emotions playing across your face like an open book he couldn’t read. And that drove him insane. He wanted to know all of you. Every thought. Every word. Every secret. But he couldn’t. And it pissed him off.

His chest tightened as he studied you, his mind working in circles. Even though you looked like you were about to explode with frustration, there was a strange sense of calm that settled over him. Paradoxically, your anger—your confusion—was like a balm to his restless thoughts. His hands twitched at his sides.

And you, completely unaware of his gaze, kept muttering, your words too quiet for him to catch. The cold wind swayed your hair, and Jungkook wondered if you had any idea what you were doing to him. He hated that he cared. And yet, he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to know.

He shifted his weight, a part of him wanting to walk away, but another part of him... couldn’t. He hated how curious he was about you. You were a puzzle he couldn’t solve, and that was something Jungkook couldn’t stand.

You suddenly turned your head, catching Jungkook’s eyes locked on you. Jungkook’s breath hitched. The shock of being caught sent a wave of heat through his chest. His eyes widened in alarm. Shit.

He knew. He knew you caught him. His face twisted into a mix of panic and frustration, and before he could overthink it, he whipped his head around, his heart pounding. He didn’t wait. He didn’t hesitate. He bolted into his car, yanked the door open, and slammed it shut behind him. Without looking back, the engine roared to life as he slammed his foot on the accelerator, his knuckles white around the steering wheel. He sped out of the parking lot, his focus darting between the road and his rearview mirror, where you were barely visible in the distance.

But before he could even breathe a sigh of relief, the heavens opened up. Rain poured down in sheets, soaking everything in an instant.

And then—he cursed.

He hated the rain. It always made him feel fragile, exposed, as though the world was pressing in on him in a way he couldn’t control. The sound of it pounding on the roof, the windshield, and the pavement—it was overwhelming, and it irritated him that he couldn’t understand why. It was stupid.

He glanced at the road, but Jimin’s car was nowhere to be seen. Of course, Jimin was probably already halfway there, and here he was, alone and soaked in this awful weather. His head was a mess, and his frustration felt tenfold. Great. He groaned, slamming his palm against the steering wheel. Perfect. The rain made it harder to see, the windshield wipers swishing furiously, but still, everything was blurry. Most people would’ve slowed down, maybe even pulled over. But Jungkook wasn’t like most people. So, he didn’t. His foot pressed harder against the gas, not caring about the storm that made the road slippery and hard to see.

Then, Jungkook’s eyes caught sight of Jimin’s car parked outside a convenience store, headlights flickering through the rain. He let out a soft, amused chuckle, shaking his head.

Typical Jimin.

Jimin was probably picking up some random snacks or an odd gift for Jin and his wife. The thought made him grin—what could you possibly find at a convenience store that would be good enough for dinner with Jin and his wife? Not much, he figured. But Jimin would always find a way to make things interesting. There was no way Jimin would have time to get something nice, and even if he did, Jin wouldn’t care. Namjoon wouldn’t even be there; he was off with his girlfriend. It was the kind of casual thing Jimin would do, and Jungkook was sure Taehyung along with Eunji (Namjoon's girlfriend's daughter) would tease him mercilessly about whatever he picked up. He could already imagine the scene: Jimin sulking, pretending to be annoyed, but secretly enjoying the attention. He spotted Jimin emerging from the door, an awkward bag in his hands, and he wondered what he had found.

But it wasn’t enough to make him stop. He didn’t want to be stuck in the rain any longer, so he pressed on, the road slick with water. The roads were empty. His headlights swept through the downpour, and the sound of his engine roared louder, mixing with the patter of the rain. The world felt gray and cold, and for a moment, he wondered if anyone else was even out here. His eyes darted, blinked twice, then three times in quick succession. A sharp flash of light broke through the downpour—streetlights, or headlights—too fast, too sudden. He squinted, trying to make sense of it, but his vision was useless against the storm.

Something’s coming.

Before he could react, he felt it. A sharp, sudden jolt as his car lost control. His hand gripped the wheel harder, his muscles tensed. He tried desperately to turn the steering wheel, left, right—anything to steady the car—but it felt as though the wheels had no grip at all. His breathing came out in short, sharp bursts.

And then it hit.

The sound was deafening—metal groaning, glass shattering. Jungkook’s body was thrown against the seat as the car twirled. He barely registered the impact before the airbag exploded in his face with a loud whoosh, his head slamming into it with force. His vision blurred, and the pain came, biting and sudden. His chest felt tight, his breaths shallow. The car spun—once, twice, thrice. His hands trembled against the steering wheel, and his head throbbed painfully. His heart felt as though it would pound out of his chest.

For a moment, everything went silent. He could feel his body shaking. His head swam, dizziness clouding his vision. His pulse raced as the rush of adrenaline hit, but then, fear—a feeling he rarely ever felt—took over. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He wasn't supposed to feel like this. Not after Mr. Park took him in. Not after Jimin became his family. He wasn’t supposed to feel this vulnerable. But now, the sensation was loud and personal, crawling up to his heart, through his arms, and into his bones.

Jungkook's world spun around him, the blur of the rain and the crash fading into nothingness. Suddenly, time seemed to stop. The sound of the storm, the screeching tires, everything disappeared. He wasn’t in his car anymore. He wasn’t even on the road. No, he was somewhere else entirely. Somewhere warm.

He was seven again.

The leather seats were soft, comforting, and the scent of his mother’s perfume lingered in the air. The only sound was the soft hum of the engine, a calm contrast to the chaos he had just left behind. He glanced around. His father was driving, hands steady on the wheel, wearing his familiar cheeky smile. His mother sat beside him, head against the window, her gaze distant but peaceful. Jungkook shifted uncomfortably in the back seat, squeezed between the seatbelt and the door. His arms were crossed tightly, shoulders hunched in frustration, as he kept his head down to avoid their attention.

“Hun, how long until we get there?” his mother’s voice broke the calm, soft and uncertain, reaching his father’s ears. She turned her head toward him with a small smile, her face lit faintly by the dashboard glow.

Mr. Jeon turned toward her, a subtle smile tugging at his lips. He shot her a cheery look, his eyes soft with affection as he answered. “Quite,” was all he said, but there was a warmth in his voice that made her smile.

But then Mr. Jeon's eyes found him.

Jungkook was sitting in the backseat, his little arms crossed tightly over his chest, his puffy cheeks flushed red. His head was turned toward the window, a frown tugging at his lips.

"What happened, Jung?" His father asked gently, voice full of care.

Jungkook’s gaze flickered up to meet his father's eyes, but he didn’t speak. Jungkook just huffed, his lip curling slightly, trying to hold back more tears. His arms tightened around himself, his small body so tense it seemed like he was trying to disappear into the seat. His eyes welled up again, and he sniffled, looking away.

“He don’t want to go.” Mrs. Jeon whispered softly, her voice light but firm, as though she’d been trying to ease the situation for some time. She shifted in her seat, her hands lightly brushing her white Chanel dress.

"I know that," Mr. Jeon said with a soft chuckle, his eyes flicking back to Jungkook. "But why?" he asked, genuinely curious.

Mrs. Jeon shrugged her shoulders, turning toward her husband with a helpless smile, her eyes glinting faintly with understanding. “You know how shy he is,” she whispered to him, just loud enough for him to hear but not Jungkook. Her voice was soft and wrapped in familiarity, like a gentle assurance.

Mr. Jeon chuckled softly, nodding in understanding. He then turned his attention back to Jungkook, his smile wide and encouraging. “But Taehyung will be there, too. Don’t you want to play with your hyung?” he teased, wiggling his brows playfully as he spoke.

Jungkook’s expression twisted with irritation. He pouted even more, his arms folding tighter across his chest. “No,” he snapped, his voice a little louder than before. “No, Taehyungie.” He refused to even look at his father, turning his head toward the window. His little hands balled into fists at his sides as he sat there.

Mr. Jeon froze for a moment at Jungkook’s sudden outburst. His eyes widened briefly as he glanced back at his son in the rearview mirror, but he let it go. He wasn’t angry—he never was with his son—but the outburst was unexpected. Jungkook wasn’t one to open up easily, and Mr. Jeon understood that. It wasn’t that Jungkook disliked Taehyung; he just couldn’t handle him. Taehyung was too much—too loud, too dramatic, too confident for Jungkook’s liking. His endless antics and unshakable charm always rubbed Jungkook the wrong way. It was easier for Jungkook to retreat into his shell than to deal with someone like Taehyung. Jungkook preferred the quiet, the safety of his own thoughts, while Taehyung was none of those things.

“Park uncle and his son are coming too. You wanted to meet Park uncle’s son?” Mr. Jeon tried again, his voice light and filled with gentle encouragement. He glanced back briefly, his brow furrowed slightly. He wanted Jungkook to at least be excited.

They were heading toward the Kim mansion for a grand party. A formal event with a lot of people, glittering dresses, and chatter. The kind of place where smiles felt like currency and charm was the language. It was important because their families shared good relationships with the Kim's. It was a social obligation.

But Jungkook didn’t bite. His gaze fixed on the rain streaking down the window. He pressed his cheek harder against the cold glass, the coolness against his skin doing little to ease the rising frustration in his chest. He wasn’t interested. His father’s words barely registered in his mind. The whole idea of going to a big event, the crowded space, the noise—it all just felt overwhelming.

“No,” Jungkook muttered, his voice tight, almost as if he were trying to seal off any further conversation. He could feel his father’s eyes on him, but he didn’t care. He didn't want to go. Not to meet Park Uncle’s son. Not to that party. Not anywhere. He wanted to stay home. He hated people. All of them. Parties. Crowds. They made his skin crawl. Even though Park uncle was always kind and brought him chocolate, even though he was gentle and easy to talk to, it didn’t matter. Meeting his son was a thought that felt like a chore.

Mr. Jeon’s face softened with a small, exasperated sigh. He turned his head, catching his wife’s eye for a brief moment. Mrs. Jeon gently tapped his arm, urging him to stop pushing Jungkook. But Mr. Jeon didn’t listen. He could see his son’s discomfort and it worried him. He wasn’t going to let it slide this time.

“Son, listen,” he began, trying again with more patience, his voice firm but not unkind. “You should—”

But his words were cut short by the sudden screech of tires and a blinding flash of headlights, too bright, too fast. Then—boom. Something slammed into their car, a deafening crash that shook everything around him. The impact tore through them, sending the car off the road. The world spun wildly, glass shattered, metal twisted, and screams filled the air. His head smacked against the seatbelt, his shoulders pulled hard by the force as the car twisted and turned like a broken toy. His arms flailed, his hands gripping at anything they could find, but there was nothing.

Finally, the car came to a violent stop and everything felt eerily quiet. The sound of the engine sputtering, the hiss of rain, and the faint, dull ringing in his ears filled his senses. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision, but his head spun. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood. His chest was tight, his breath shallow. Through his blurred vision, he saw it—them. Blood streaked his vision, dark and warm as it trickled into his eyes from a gash on his forehead. His breath came in short, broken pants. He couldn’t see clearly—everything felt distorted, red, and wrong.  His mother was there. Her body was twisted, crumpled, unnatural, and there was so much blood. Everywhere but specially beneath her.

“Mom…” he whispered, his voice broken, a thin, desperate sound. His lips trembled, his head shaking as though he could will it away, but the horror wouldn’t leave. His small hands gripped at his seatbelt again, his fingers sticky, his face soaked with rain and fear. All he knew was that his mother was hurt, she was bleeding and wasn't moving.  No, no, no… His chest ached, a desperate pain that he couldn’t understand.

His eyes shifted to his father, still breathing, but barely. His father’s chest rose weakly, blood dripping from a gash on his forehead, and Jungkook’s heart twisted in his chest. “Dada…” His voice cracked, the sound barely more than a whimper as he reached out for his father, his small hands pressing against the seat. The fear was suffocating, but the pain of seeing his father so helpless, so close to slipping away, was worse. His body shook uncontrollably, his tiny frame trying to fight the overwhelming terror that threatened to swallow him whole.

The silence felt unbearable. Everything around him felt like a blur, yet every detail was all real and painstrikingly cruel. His hands trembled, his body shaking, his chest aching as he waited—desperately—for some kind of answer. But before his father could respond, figures emerged from the darkness dressed in black uniforms that glistened faintly under the rain. Their presence felt wrong, but the night itself was nothing if wasn't sinful. Jungkook’s head spun, his ears ringing painfully. The sound was distorted, every word like a distant, broken whisper. But the fragments came through, jagged and broken.

“And, it’s done... Wasn't much. Let him suffer.”

Jungkook visibly flinched at their words, his heart hammering against his ribcage. His ears rang painfully, making it hard to hear, but the fragments reached him like poison.

“He denied boss, after all.”

"Hmm, all he needed was that file. Black orchid project's file."

 "Yeah, stupid motherfucker." They turned to leave, but then one of them paused, looking back at Mr. Jeon’s bloody form, a sinister smile creeping across his face. “You know, since you’re dying anyways, let me tell you something… we found her. We got the first kid from the Black Orchid project. And with her, we’ll get them all. And with you dead, who will stop us.”

Their laughter was cruel and hollow, echoing in the stillness like nails scraping across the floor. Jungkook’s chest tightened, and his stomach churned, bile rising in his throat as they disappeared into the rain. The words haunted him, swirling in his mind, but before he could process them, another sound broke through—the sound of his father’s breath.

Mr. Jeon’s body shifted, his chest rising and falling in labored, shallow breaths. His tear-streaked face twisted with pain as his eyes met Jungkook’s, the weight of everything crashing down in those last, fleeting moments. “Jungkook…” His voice was raw, barely a whisper, but it carried so much guilt that it felt like it could suffocate him. “I’m so sorry, my boy… this… this is all because of me.”

“Dada…” His voice was cracked, shaky, the fear rising in his chest like a storm. His hand reached out instinctively, trembling, but it fell short, his small fingers grazing the air instead of his father’s skin.

Just as Jungkook’s vision began to blur, another sound broke through the haze—the screech of tires and the distant sound of shoes splashing through the rain. Relief flickered faintly in his chest. Someone was coming. But his blurry gaze couldn’t make out who it was.

A pair of feet appeared before him, followed by the frantic sound of someone running, slipping in the rain as they skidded to a halt next to the wreckage.

 It was Mr. Park, panting, his face pale with shock as he took in the horror before him.

Mr. Park dropped to his knees beside the wreckage, his hands trembling as they hovered over the twisted metal, unable to focus on anything but the devastation before him. His breath hitched in his chest as his gaze fell on Mrs. Jeon’s crumpled, lifeless form, and the tears welled up instantly, blurring his vision. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. All he could manage was a broken, “Oh, my... How… what?” His gaze settled on Jungkook’s mother, crumpled and lifeless in the front seat, and his breath hitched. His hands gripped the cold, wet metal of the car, his entire body shaking as he fought the overwhelming wave of fear and sorrow threatening to drown him.

“Hang on! I’ll get you both out, I promise!” His voice cracked as he spoke, his hands fumbling against the seatbelt, desperate to pull them free.

But Mr. Jeon, with great effort, shook his head. His face was pale, slick with sweat, and blood dripped from the corner of his mouth. His voice came out hoarse, barely more than a whisper, but the words cut through the chaos. “No... no... listen to me.” He coughed, his body convulsing from the effort, and blood spattered onto his chest. “I... I won’t be able to make it out of here. Take Jungkook... get him out... and raise him. There’s no one else I trust more than you, Park. You’re like a brother to me. Please... take care of him... like he’s your own.”

Mr. Park’s eyes filled with tears, and he squeezed them shut for a moment, trying to push back the wave of grief threatening to drown him. His chest tightened, and his voice cracked as he fought to keep it steady. “I will. I promise. But don’t say that, we can still—”

“No…” Mr. Jeon’s voice was barely a whisper now, weak and distant, almost drowned out by the rain. The faintest of smiles tugged at the corner of his lips, but it quickly disappeared as he coughed, blood staining his mouth. “It’s too late for me… just save him. Please.”

Mr. Park’s hand trembled as it hovered over Mr. Jeon’s, and he nodded, his lips trembling. He wasn’t ready to accept this, but he knew there was no choice. “I’ll take him,” he whispered. “I’ll take him, I promise.”

With trembling hands, Mr. Park unbuckled Jungkook, his heart breaking at the sight of the boy’s tear-streaked face, pale and bloodied. The tiny body was limp in his arms, and he fought to hold back his own tears, knowing it wouldn’t help. Jungkook’s head lolled against his shoulder, eyes barely open, blinking with confusion and fear, but he couldn’t speak, couldn’t move.

“I’ve got you,” Mr. Park whispered, his voice rough with emotion, his arms tightening around Jungkook as he lifted him from the wreckage. Jungkook’s head rested against his chest, the faintest stir of breath against his skin. “It’s going to be okay,” he said, though he knew nothing about this could ever be okay. If anything, he himself didn't trust his words. They felt hollow.

“I’ll be back to get you. And I’ll get you out too, just hang there,” he said, his voice final, desperate, and certain. His hands trembled as he cradled Jungkook against his chest, his gaze flickering back toward Mr. Jeon, whose eyes were barely open. Mr. Park wasn't sure if he was even capable enough to fulfil that promise, but at that moment, it was all he could offer; it was all he had left.

Mr. Jeon’s eyes fluttered, a faint nod the only response he could manage. His body had grown so still, but the tear streaked face, the way his lips trembled, said everything. He knew it was a promise that wouldn’t be kept—but he nodded anyway, and the last bit of hope faded in the silence of the wreckage. With one final glance, Mr. Park turned, his arms cradling Jungkook against him, as he ran toward safety, the boy’s limp body a stark contrast to the life and pain surrounding them. The rain continued to pour, and with each step, it felt like the world was slipping further away.

Jungkook’s eyes fluttered weakly as he was carried to Mr. Park’s car. His small body felt light and cold against the older man’s chest. Inside the vehicle, Jimin sat in the backseat, his wide eyes staring at the scene before him. His small hands gripped the edge of his seat tightly, his knuckles pale in the dim glow of the headlights. When Mr. Park placed Jungkook beside him, Jimin’s shock melted into a visible concern. His little face was a mix of worry and gentleness as he shifted closer, his small body trembling slightly. Without hesitation, he wrapped his tiny arms around Jungkook, pulling him into a hug. The warmth of Jimin’s embrace was so soft, so comforting, but it felt like it wasn’t enough.

“Don’t cry… it’s okay, don’t cry,” Jimin whispered, his voice cracking slightly as he pulled Jungkook closer. Jungkook’s eyes burned, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak. His throat was tight, his chest hollow with loss. The last thing he felt before the world around him went black was Jimin’s arms, holding him tight, and the warmth that felt fragile, like a thread ready to snap.

Meanwhile, Mr. Park’s hands were shaking, his desperation choking his every movement as he turned back to the wreck. His heart pounded in his chest as he sprinted toward the flames, but he didn’t make it. Before he could even reach the wreckage, the explosion erupted in a violent wave, the flames licking at the sky as they consumed the car. The explosion rocked the ground beneath him, the heat so intense it scorched his skin, and the rain didn’t do a thing to stop the inferno. The sound of the blast echoed in his chest, and for a moment, Mr. Park stood frozen, his body trembling from the shock, the image of his closest friend burning into his mind.  His breath caught in his throat, his heart twisted painfully, but he couldn’t move. He watched as the fire consumed everything—everything he had hoped to save. The rain poured harder, but it was useless against the inferno.

And just like that, Jungkook lost everything in one brutal, cruel instant. His mind hung on that moment, the crackling fire and the unyielding rain swallowing it all. The sound of the explosion still rang in his ears as he was pulled from the memory. Another sharp, blinding flash of light cut through his closed eyelids, yanking him out of his haze. His head throbbed painfully, the beat of his pulse a steady rhythm that seemed to match the aching in his skull.

A car screeched to a halt in front of him, the sound cutting through the fog in his mind like a blade. For a moment, he thought it was Jimin. But that couldn’t be right—Jimin was way behind him, far away from this mess, in a safe place. How could he have gotten ahead so fast? Jungkook’s thoughts came fast and fragmented. His breaths came quicker, his hands trembling harder as his body tensed with uncertainty.

What was happening? Was it Jimin? Was it someone else? His mind felt fractured, his body unable to respond. His body felt paralysed, useless.

The driver stepped out into the downpour, his black uniform drenched in seconds, but he moved forward with an unsettling calm. The sight of the uniform—it was like a switch had been flipped inside Jungkook. But his thoughts were too scattered, too foggy, to make sense of it. The closer the man got, the louder the buzz in Jungkook’s head grew, like lightening sissling through his skull. It was unbearable. His hands flew to his temples, fingers digging in desperately, but the pain only intensified. A low, broken groan escaped his throat.

Without warning, a loud, brutal crash shattered the silence. The man had smashed the car window. The sound tore through his body like a physical blow, breaking his fragile focus. His eyes flew open just as he felt the sting of broken glass. The shards flying like tiny stars of pain that bit into his skin. Before Jungkook could even flinch, a rough hand wrapped around his collar and yanked him from the seat. He was dragged out into the downpour, the cold, icy rain slamming into his face, washing away the blood. The cold slapped against his skin like a thousand tiny knives, but he was too weak to react. His limbs were heavy, his body numb, as if it wasn’t even his own. He couldn’t fight back. The man dragged him across the slick road like he weighed nothing, and with a brutal toss, he was slammed onto the wet pavement. His body hit the ground with a sickening thud, and the cold, muddy water instantly soaked through his clothes, seeping into his bones.

He forced himself to push up or at least he tired. His hands trembled, weak and brittle, but he couldn’t hold himself. His body gave out, and he collapsed back into the mud with a helpless, wet sound. His face turned upward, the rain blurring his vision, every droplet a sharp needle that dug into his skin. His chest heaved, his breaths coming in shallow bursts, but the pain in his skull, his limbs, and his chest refused to go away. Jungkook tried again, his body shaking harder this time. His head swayed from side to side as he struggled, but the rain felt endless, each droplet pounding into him, each one deeper, colder, meaner. His heartbeat was an erratic drumbeat in his chest, thudding against his ribs like it might give out at any moment. His vision remained a hazy blur—everything was grey, wet, and cold, and the pounding in his skull grew stronger with every heartbeat.

Jungkook’s eyes fought to stay open, his vision blurring more with each passing second, but the shape of the man in front of him became clearer. The man in the black uniform loomed over him, a dark, shifting figure that blurred in the rain. His face was a shadow, but the smirk on his lips was cruel and clear.

The man’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he watched Jungkook struggle beneath him, barely able to lift himself up on one elbow. His hand gripped the gun with a steady, deadly calm, and as he crouched down, water splashed from his chin, droplets falling onto Jungkook’s face. “Look at you,” he sneered, voice dripping with mockery, “pathetic. No high and mighty prince now, huh? Where’s your guard dog to save you?”

Jungkook’s chest heaved in ragged breaths, his heart hammering in his ribcage. He could feel the weight of his body dragging him further into the puddle, the cold seeping into his bones, but his muscles were too weak to fight back. His hand twitched, desperately trying to reach for something—anything—to push himself up, but it shook violently, unable to get any purchase. He gritted his teeth, eyes clouded with pain and dizziness, unable to respond, unable to do anything but lie there and take it.

“today was my lucky day, I guess,”  he laughed.

“You’ve been a thorn in our side for too long,” the man continued, his voice dropping lower as he straightened, standing taller. His form was solid and imposing, his boots kicking mud as he took a step back. The gun rose, glinting under the pale light of the streetlamps. The barrel was cold, steady, and pointed directly at Jungkook’s chest.

“Time to put you out of your misery, kid. Join mommy and daddy. I wager... You’ve been dying to.” A cold sweat broke out across Jungkook’s skin even in shrill rain, and for a brief moment, his breath caught in his throat. His eyes widened, flicking between the gun and the man’s mocking face, terror clawing at him from the inside. His chest tightened, his body frozen as the world spun around him, and he tried once more to move, to escape, but his legs were useless, as if the earth beneath him was swallowing him whole. All that remained was the sharp, unrelenting noise of the rain and the sickening sound of the man’s finger inching toward the trigger.

Jungkook’s body went rigid as the man’s words echoed in his mind. His heart thundered in his chest as the memories of his parents flooded him—their lifeless eyes, the blood staining the night, the terror that gripped him then and now. His hands, slick with cold rain, shook uncontrollably as he stared at the barrel of the gun. His throat constricted, but no words came out—only a choked sob that was lost in the downpour.

The man’s grin widened, cruel and savage, as he inched his finger toward the trigger. Jungkook could see the gleam in his eyes, the satisfaction of finally having the power to take everything from him. The laughter in his voice was sharp, like glass scraping against his skin, and with a slow, deliberate motion, he squeezed the trigger.

"Goodbye, Jeon Jungkook."

The gunshot shattered the night—louder than the storm, louder than the pounding in Jungkook's ears. For a brief, agonizing moment, the world seemed to stop. The rain paused in midair, hanging like frozen tears, the wind silenced as if holding its breath. Jungkook felt the world tilt beneath him, and his body instinctively braced for the impact that was supposed to come.

a/n: So, how’d you guys like it? Hate it? Loved it? I need the feedback, break me, but like... gently, okay? I’m fragile and I’ll cry, like, on the spot. But honestly, there might be some grammatical disasters in there. Why? Because I got sick and just didn’t have the energy to do much editing work on it. So yeah, don’t judge me too hard, I’m basically a walking disaster right now. Also, I really hope you still love Jungkook after reading this. Please don’t hate him. Show him some love. And, like, show me some too, because my ego is starving. Tell me how amazing it was (or, like, pretend it was) and boost my fragile little ego, okay? I need it. Love ya, guys!

[shirefantasies]

Hi!! I just found your blog and I love the way you write your headcanons! I was wondering if there's anyway you could write how each of the company in the hobbit would cuddle? or how they'd show physical affection? If not, that's fine, just thought I'd ask! (sorry if this is a bit weirdly worded I don't actually request things often lol, I've just been in such a the hobbit mood and found your blog and loved it immediately.)

Thank you sweetie and I'm so glad you love my headcanons 🥰 but this imagine YUS YUS YUS!!! My Hobbit mood has been coming in big ol waves of late heck yeah 🫡

Thorin’s Company + Physical Affection

Balin

✧ If you fall and he catches you, you may notice the way his hands wind around your waist and keep you for just a moment longer than absolutely necessary.

✧ Always the one who does your fastens for you and helps you into your coat, lingering touches therein as well.

✧ Sometimes his hand will just creep over as he listens to you, taking yours and drawing encouraging circles upon the back of it.

✧ Pulls you closer into his chest in the cold, whispering that it's alright, don't be shy as you melt into him.

✧ Almost always at your side with a hand placed gently but firmly upon your shoulder, half guiding, half guarding.

Dwalin

✧ This guy...is not very physically affectionate. You're going to have to coax it out of him like a stray cat.

✧ He enjoys sparring with you if you're down and you may notice he prefers pinning you or wrestling you down to, say, literally any other member of the company, but that feels like something beyond affection...

✧ "Are you hurt? Let me see." For the strength of his hands, he cradles your head, your arm, whatever it may be, so gently and warmly.

✧ Acts exasperated when you show up at his side to cuddle, accepts only “because it’s so cold, I suppose it’d be right”, then wraps his arms around you and holds you against his chest as tight as he can.

✧ Seated at a table, Dwalin will keep an arm draped over the back of your chair at all times.

Thorin

✧ His hands go to you first after any sort of danger, holding you back initially then laying a hand on your shoulder as he checks you over, ensuring no harm came to you.

✧ Asks for your hand, taking it in his when your travels get difficult so as to lead you along the safest path he can find.

✧ Wraps you up in his coat, his hands sliding down your arms after he drapes it upon you, staying like that for a moment with his chest to your back.

✧ Big spoon. That feeling of care, of presiding over your warmth and safety and everything Thorin can give absolutely translates to your sleep, your solace. It means the world to him if he can be your comfort.

✧ Even in idle times, Thorin tends to stand with a hand wrapped around your waist, not grasping you tightly or restricting you in any way, but simply enough to keep you near and make it clear that you are his.

Oin

✧ Offering massages is basically a love language for him. The others are always asking him and sometimes he gets annoyed or just does it grudgingly, but when it is you? He takes his time, uses your favorite oils, savors the connection between you two and your hums of pleasure.

✧ Oin loves asking you for help just as an excuse to have you near, your hands darting beneath his to grab supplies or holding down his work, his own coming to cover yours as often as he can spare them.

✧ In the moments you get to sit next to each other, his hand will gingerly rest over yours. If you tense up at all, you can feel his grip tighten just a little bit, giving you a reassuring squeeze.

✧ Likes loose cuddling, simply your arms draped over his side as you rest alongside each other. Also not-so-secretly enjoys being the little spoon- indulge him every now and again!

✧ Has been known to give your cheeks the occasional affectionate pinch or squeeze, just smiling and chuckling giddily to himself at the sight of you before he leans in for a kiss.

Gloin

✧ Always fussing over your hair, whether it's getting things out of it or even knowing its entire care routine and performing it for you if you let him, his hands dressing it practically reverently.

✧ Gets bored, forgets himself and plays with your hands. If you wear rings, he probably slides those around or spins them a bit. He enjoys intertwining your fingers again and again and keeping both of your hands in his as he peers at you.

✧ When simply standing around, he sometimes will stand behind you and drape his arms over your shoulders as if claiming you.

✧ Will practically wrestle you into position if you try to make him little spoon. You have to get him tired enough before he’ll accept not being the one to hold you.

✧ Grabs you up into the biggest, bone-crushing in the best of ways, bear hugs you've ever had the pleasure of being swept into.

Bifur

✧ Speech can be so difficult, the feeling of trying without success so frustrating that a meaningful touch is simpler and infinitely more calming. A favorite of his is a simple hand on the shoulder, a gesture of care.

✧ He also loves teasingly elbowing you to get your attention, whether it's to show you something or just to say hello!

✧ Tracing each and every line and curvature of your face is his guilty pleasure; it is as though he is at work silently memorizing your every feature.

✧ Looser with cuddling, the feeling sometimes suffocating, especially if he has a nightmare. Rather than cage you in or be caged in, Bifur prefers the simple feeling of your hand upon his chest or your head leaned against his while you sleep.

✧ Absolutely loves decorating you, feeling like an attendant to royalty as he slides rings onto your finger, bracelets and necklaces he made around your neck or wrist. Such moments are some of the most tender between you, the way he looks at you afterward and the way his hands caress you after each beauty is set to magnifying yours.

Bofur

✧ Has a little habit of just taking your hand and twirling you when you stand together, almost as if you're dancing in place.

✧ When you truly are dancing, you know Bofur will be dipping you down for a kiss nearly every time!

✧ Cuddling is all over the place. Snakes his arms around you and pulls you into his lap when he’s feeling particularly merry. Lays facing you before sleep, your legs tangled together in the most wonderful mess.

✧ Bofur has this little habit of falling onto you when you’re laughing together, playfully shoving you before his hands fall into your lap or grab your knee.

✧ Hugs from Bofur often turn into him picking you up and spinning you around!

Bombur

✧ As I've mentioned, he is the best with a partner who has anxiety, basically becoming a living weighted blanket atop you.

✧ Though shy and subtle he can be with his initial affections, Bombur is very cuddly. The greatest cuddler, in fact. Your shared bedroll is the coziest one of the whole lot.

✧ Has been known to, upon being in a bolder mood, turn his head when you lean to kiss his cheek, capturing your lips instead! Has the biggest smile upon success, so you can never be upset.

✧ Pulls you into a hug the moment you say or do something cute.

✧ Great acts of service fellow as he is, Bombur will often offer things like scratching your back or rubbing tension from your neck as a means of getting closer while still providing for you.

Dori

✧ Small, subtle touches, like letting his hands cover yours when you accept the steaming mug of tea he hands you.

✧ He also loves running a thumb over the back of your hand when you sit side by side, sharing that one point of connection between you two.

✧ Always does a cute little tap to your knee after he laces up your boots for you, a little wink topping the endearing gesture off.

✧ The type who loves to lay with your heads against each other, cheeks brushing, especially as you look at the stars, discussing everything beneath the sun and very well likely some things not beneath it at all.

✧ Shocks you when you sit at a table and you feel his hand on your knee, and again when it moves up and down, tracing a little pattern on your thigh.

Nori

✧ I still maintain that Nori would be the main perpetrator of the classic yawning or stretching as an excuse to put an arm around you. Once you're pulled in, though? Good luck getting back out! You are nothing if not secure in his grasp.

✧ Cheekily sliding his hand into your pocket, especially if you have a back pocket, is his favorite.

✧ If there is any possibility of him not being able to hear you, Nori will lean in as close as he can, possibly even drawing you forward with a hand beneath your chin, grinning if you get flustered.

✧ Ideal cuddling position, you ask? Why, with him on top of you, obviously! Enough said.

✧ When it isn’t in your pocket, he nearly always has a hand at the small of your back when you walk. He occasionally uses it to guide you, but mostly he likes to run it up and down your spine, occasionally running his nails down too, giving you a cheeky look when he does it.

Ori

✧ Oscillates between being too shy to show physical affection and a natural propensity to misunderstand personal space. For example, he'll probably not want to kiss you in front of his older brothers lest they tease him, but when he gets excited about his latest drawing he practically throws his arms entirely around you to show you his sketchpad.

✧ Shares his scarf with you, winding the two of you both into its long, thick warmth and flushing as you lean in closer and closer beneath it.

✧ The kisses you share in private are almost desperate, hands clinging to whatever fold of fabric they can reach to draw each other in.

✧ Enjoys pretty much any way you lie together, facing each other, back to back, you name it, Ori is eager for it!

✧ Rubs your hands between his own to keep you warm, straightens your clothes up for you, little tending touches that lead to kisses upon your hands or head.

Fili

✧ Gives amazing hugs, pulling you into his arms and soothingly, lovingly sliding a hand up and down your back.

✧ So sweet, he loves swinging your joined hands between you both if you are granted the opportunity for a leisurely stroll.

✧ Always wants to be the big spoon when you guys cuddle, that position feeling much more protective of you, secure as he can hold you.

✧ Sneaks up behind you to cover your eyes, asking ‘guess who’ and chuckling at the way you startle if he catches you by surprise.

✧ Offers you his arm when you walk together and smiling when you link yours with his and rest your hand upon his upper arm.

Kili

✧ In love with physical affection. Who cares who sees you? Not this dwarven prince, that is certain! Completely unafraid to pull you into his lap and hold you, pride crossing his face.

✧ Pulls your joined hands into his pockets as you walk side by side.

✧ When he teaches you how to shoot, he guides you smoothly by the hips, hands running down your sides and along the length of your arms until you reach the proper stance.

✧ His favorite way to cuddle is you lain upon his chest, your head against his heart and right there for him to place kisses atop.

✧ You two are a tangled mess at fireside, someone’s legs always thrown upon the other’s lap.

Bilbo

✧ Rather than show you over-the-top affection, Bilbo is the sort to just stay glued to your side, joining you at the hip for even the most mundane tasks even if it’s under the guise of “getting a break from all the dwarves”.

✧ Similarly, he’ll offer to hold your hands “because it’s quite crowded” or “just so you don’t fall, it’s a bit steep here and all”.

✧ When you sit together at the fireside, he may get flustered but he absolutely loves it when you lay your head upon his shoulder.

✧ He also favors being little spoon, not that he would necessarily tell you that out loud, but you can feel the way he relaxes, hums in contentment against you.

✧ Bilbo gets surprisingly protective, though, shifting you behind him or moving you aside by your waist when danger strikes.

[redhoodinternaldialectical]

Rambles about an au I'll probably never fully write out

Contrary to popular vigilante assumption, the Red Hood does, in fact, have a civilian job. He actually really likes his job! It's super flexible, he sets his own hours, his own rates, is his own boss - heck he even likes a lot of his clients, and finds the conversations they fall into to be very grounding and comfortable.

It's also been a big help to his vigilante work to boot! After all, it's a hell of a lot easier to figure out what the sex workers in Park Row need and want when he himself is one of them.

A few of the Johns I've imagined for him:

Christie:

Serious and dour. Has a tendency to overstate her displeasure and only let slip the faintest of praise for what she actually likes

Thinks flirting is inane, incomprehensible, and demeaning. Almost wept with relief when someone tried to insult her by telling her she'd never find a husband and would only get laid if she was paying someone

They would never want to be friends with each other, but hold a mutual respect for each other's intelligence and general attitudes

Claims to hate gossip, has bitched about her coworkers so much between rounds of making out that Jason has highly detailed profiles on every member of her entire department whether he likes it or not

A regular

Jessica

Met him when her sorority hired him for a party (one of his least favorite jobs - handling 23 drunk people as a service worker is simply always going to be stressful no matter the industry)

Has changed majors like five times, perpetually finding herself

Generally pretty jovial and chill, though it took her a little while to get over her initial awkward towards him and his profession

As much as a client who doesn't know about your secret crime lord identity can be a friend, she's a friend

A regular

Devin

Jessica's friend

Complained about being a poor loveless virgin and jokingly asked to get laid with a tall hung goth guy for his birthday

Jessica is not one to let her friend's birthday wishes go unfulfilled!!

Dick actually walked in on Jason putting on his outfit for this - black and red plaid skirt and spiked black leather jacket over full body fishnets and chunky boots - but assumed/concluded it was for an undercover case. Jason feels weird about the way Dick seemed to assume he'd never do this for anything other than a case, like it was yet another price to pay for vigilante justice to prevail.

One time client

And lastly one that's kinda an offshoot from the original au, which I think works better as Jason having a genuinely separate social/civilian life that the other bats aren't involved with at all, but also I am weak to jaytim and comedy so here we are:

Tim Drake and Bernard Dowd... Kinda

Similar to Devin except he's talking about what kinda guy he'd want to lose his virginity with to Tim, who has a very obvious crush on him

"I'd really like my first time to be with someone with black hair and blue eyes, who's strong and driven and caring and looks so very hot on a motorcycle..."

Tim Very Badly Misunderstands these incredibly obvious hints bc he thinks to himself, "Hmm, who's the best, hottest guy that fits this description and that I could absolutely trust to treat my crush right 🤔???" and hires Jason, his other crush, contenting himself with going home after introducing them to go sit on his lonely cuck chair

"You know he meant you, right?"

"Nooooo, he couldn't've possibly meant me."

"So you definitely were trying to get into Tim's pants, right?"

"Yeah I was super trying to get with Tim. Did not even think I was being subtle."

They end up having a threesome about it

[headfarintheclouds]

The Deal (Iso x Reader) Chapter 1

I tried dto post that 3 times from my PC but Tumblr crashed... so I'm posting it from my phone. I hope you guys like it !

Words count : 1400k

TW: none

"Fuck this I'm done!" yelling in anger I threw the gun to the ground, if Brimstone or Sova saw me right now I would probably get a scolding of a lifetime, but they weren't here with me. Only Gekko and his crew.

"Hey, calm down Y/n ! I'm sure you get it next try." the green haired Latino raised his hands, trying to stop me from exiting the practice range. I threw a nasty glare his way, making Trash growl at me in warning. "Hey, no that's not very nice!" he quickly scolded the creature making it roll its eyes at him.

I huffed and turned my head to the target I was practicing on. A ray of bullet holes behind it, only five or four on it. If being bad at shooting was a sport, then I was the champion of it.

"I'm sorry Mateo but I've been practicing for months now. I can't seem to land a single shot. If it's gonna be like that then I might as well quit while I'm ahead." I told him with a sad smile. His brow eyes widened in surprise upon hearing me say that, before I knew it, he was standing before me with a deep frown on his youthful face.

"Hey no, don't think like that. Not everyone is good at everything, chicka. Sometime those things take time." sending me a small smile he put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed it in silent support.

"It's been six months through, what if I'm not made for this?" I looked up at my best friend, desperation clear in my voice.

"Nobody was made for this, but everyone made it work in the end. You'll get there soon enough." he nodded his head, firmly believing in his own words.

I sighed. Yeah, I was invited to Valorant by Brimstone himself, but back then none of us knew I would be an absolute shit at shooting. All he saw was a silent Radiant, with control over sounds who was amazingly good at sneaking and getting information. It was what he needed, he told me back then. But then assured me he wouldn't send me anywhere until I finished my training. Ever since then I have been on the base spending my time in the shooting range alongside Gekko and Neon, who quickly became my best friend among the Agents. Guess I got one good thing out of that whole shit show.

"I'll talk to Brimstone." I said, already making up my mind. Wingman who was standing in-between us, put his tiny limp on my leg and let out a series of sad chirps making my heart clench in pain. Gosh I was going to miss this adorable guy. Neon and Gekko too, heck even Yoru who was a pain in the ass from day one.

"Y/n please, think about this." Gekko begged, his eyes glossy from the unshed tears. I chuckled halfheartedly at my friend and put a hand over the one he still had on my shoulder.

"I have."

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:

After my talk with Brimstone I made my way to my room and started to pack up my things. The older man wasn't pleased with my decision and tried to persevere me to stay, heck he even involved Sage in it knowing how much respect I held for the women. But I wasn't about to drag everyone down with my poor skills. They had Omen, Sova and Cypher to gather all the information they needed.

A knock on my door stopped me in my tracks. Narrowing my brows I sighed and decided to ignore it in favor of putting my things in my duffle bag. Another knock, this time a louder and more aggressive one.

"I don't want to talk, leave me alone Gekko!" I yelled hoping it would be enough. After all who else would it be? Neon didn't know about me leaving yet, and both Sage and Brimstone respected my choices enough to leave me alone for now.

"It's not Gekko." my eyes widened in surprise upon hearing the deep voice of Iso.

The Chinese hit man quickly became my favorite person around HQ, even if we didn't spend nearly enough time together, I still found myself harboring a crush on him. What was he doing outside my door?

I walked over to it and punched in the code to open them, coming face to chest with the handsome man. My eyes widened upon seeing the intensity in his lilac-colored orbs. They seemed to be glowing.

"I heard you were leaving." he stated, no greetings or how are you's. Just straight to the point.

"I.. I am yes." stuttering I gasped when he pushed me in the room and closed the door behind him.

"Why?"

"What do you mean 'why'?" I blinked in confusion.

"Why are you leaving? Give me a one good reason." he wasn't making any sense to me. Why was he suddenly so interested in me leaving the place? We spoke maybe a total of five times during my stay here. But I had to admit, it did make my heart do summer sluts inside my ribcage. Did he care?

"I suck at shooting, that's why." I stated simply, observing his face for any kind of reaction. All I got was him clenching his jaw and mumbling something in Chinese.

"Is that all?" he asked, making me narrow my own eyes at him.

"Excuse me?"

"That is not a valid reason to leave." he said in anger, taking a step closer. I never realized how big he was until now, holy shit! And he was mad at me to! (For some reason) Was this the way I was going to die?

"What's it to you?' I challenged him with a hiss.

"You. Me. Shooting Range tomorrow at noon. I will train you personally from now on." I could myself going pale. He wanted to train me? Personally? Yes please, but also no fucking way. I wasn't about to make a fool out of myself in front of my crush.

"No way. I'm leaving first thing in the morning." shaking my head I missed the moment he got closer, until I could feel the warmth of his breath on my face. It smelled faintly of cinnamon.

"I am not asking you, I'm telling you Tián tián." he leaned his head even closer, so close in fact I could make specks of dark purple in his eyes. "Listen to me. Let's make a deal. If you stay, I will make it so you'll be one of the best shooters in the entire team. Give me three months." I blinked at the sudden change of attitude. He was very confident in what he was saying that much I could tell.

"And if I don't become the best shooter?" I whispered, too scared to speak any louder than that. He was still very close to me, so when he smirked upon hearing my Question I about fainted then and there.

"Then I will let you go."

"You will let me go? Aren't you getting ahead of yourself, big guy?"

"Let me put it this way. If at any point of the three months you'll run away, I will personally hunt you down and drag you back. Do you understand?"

Okay, what the fuck was going on right now? Where was the sweet and shy guy who stuck to the side lines and didn't interact with others? Was he swapped during one of the missions? Did he hit his head or something? I blinked up at the older male, trying to understand what was being said to me.

"Okay. But what if you win the bet? What do you want in return?" I asked, my voice curious to hear his reason.

"You'll see." he stood up straight, putting more distance between us and making my heart calm down a bit. "I'll see you tomorrow." he winked and left both my room and me in a state of ruin.

[zhaohuis-lost-walnut]

Hasen: Two Sides of the Same Coin

[spoilers up to chapter 215]

In my Guo Weili hate post I mentioned how QJJ shows how some of the nation's influential men that have made positive change also engage in bad behavior. Now I want to focus on the opposite if you will.

From Dazhou's perspective, the Biansha Tribes are a universal enemy. Yeah, Shen Zechuan and co got serious beef with Qudu, but they can both agree the Biansha pose a serious threat.

Hasen is Amu'er's son and one of the "big bads" in this narrative, if you will. But unlike how I want to watch Guo Weili grovel at Gu Jin's mercy, I genuinely like Hasen. From his first introduction I couldn't help but smile at this guy who blushes when he gets complimented. A guy who looks up to his father and understands he has big shoes to fill. A guy who wants to fight for his people that he feels have been mistreated and suffer unfairly. A guy who is absolutely infatuated with his childhood sweetheart.

Hasen is a member of the Biansha Tribes, and yet he's more likable than Guo Weili, a literal Libei Armored Cavalry General. And what I really like about this is how it amplifies how human these characters are. There are very few characters are that very skewed "evil" or "good". Most of them are shades of grey.

Hasen nearly killed Xiao Chiye and successfully killed Xiao Fangxu. And yet I can't bring myself to even dislike him. Because from his perspective, he's fighting for his nation and avenging people he loves. His brother-in-law died at Xiao Fangxu's hands so he wanted to get back at him. Even when he was attacking Xiao Chiye, it wasn't personal, Xiao Chiye simply got in the way of his goals.

While it's true the Biansha Tribes have done horrible things--the inciting incident for the entirety of this story for example--but I don't like lumping everyone together. Simply because the same could be said for Dazhou's actions. The nation's governing bodies and noble clans have hurt their own people. The rich get richer while they watch common folk starve. The noble clans kill those who try to bring positive change and endanger the entire nation for their own petty gains. Going as far to hold back back Qidong and Libei as if they aren't the only forces preventing the Biansha to make a Zhongbo out of all of Dazhou.

The Biansha have their own societal corruption as well. There is a tribal hierarchy amongst them. Some tribes are considered better than others, and some are used as slaves. They take advantage of the Scorpions and make promises they have no intentions of keeping. Even the Biansha SLAVES look down on the Scorpions as if they aren't on the same boat.

Both sides of the border have their own infighting going on and it makes everything feel all so real. I love how complex the politics are. I love how vast the conspiracies go. And I love how there are even sub groups working towards their own goals. The Imperial Court, the various bandits, King Yi, the Scorpions, Amu'er, Qidong, Libei, Zhongbo under Shen Zechuan's control and so much more. I'm so invested in it all!

Man, this post is barely about Hasen. I do be rambling.

I love how you can look at events from different angles and see a whole different perspective. One of my favorites being Xiao Fangxu's conquering of Libei: it's framed as this incredible win for Dazhou, but to the Biansha, they lost access to farmable land and it exasperated their food issue even more. I'm not here to debate whether Xiao Fangxu is an evil colonizer, but I do think it's interesting to think about his action's implications and how you could make a case for the Biansha being victims of his *insert really smart word here*. The Biansha leveled a good chunk of Zhongbo, but how many Biansha perished in Xiao Fangxu's conquest?

There are Biansha that defect to Dazhou and those of Dazhou that defect to the Biansha. Heck, when Lu Guangbai went rouge, a lot of people thought he was gonna link up with Amu'er (as if bro would let Lu Guangbai join his clerb after killing so many Biansha. Let's use our brains). Lei Jingzhe dipped to become a Scorpion and Hairigu escaped to Dazhou to escape the conflict in Gedale. I honestly chuckled a little in Chapter 215 when Bayin reported to Hasen that Hairigu is now Zhongbo's slave. Like, Hairigu is an employee. I think it's very telling that Bayin assumed that Hairigu is a slave when he sees him working with Xiao Chiye; as if they can't fathom someone (attempt) treating Scorpions right and paying them for their labor ToT I'm not sure if Hairigu is "happy" at his post, but he's at least being compensated along with some of his peers that Shen Zechuan accepted as his own and provides for.

Okay, okay. I really just wanted to yap about how much I like Hasen and I actually got emotional when he got married, but I ended up doing all this lol. I appreciate that the narrative doesn't really frame any side as being "right". The Biansha do the things that they do out of desperation. And rather than faulting the collective, some of them just take apprehensible action; Even the sadistic hostility some of the members display could be considered a symptom of generations of suffering. Chapter 133 highlighted this perfectly. While Huhelu wanted to torture and kill the Libei craftsmen they captured, Bayin wanted to be humane to the prisoners of war. I'm not trying to say Bayin is "one of the good ones", but rather what is important to each individual character is different. Bayin sees the battle as being won so there is no need for more violence. While Huhelu relishes in it as a show off of his power and to command fear.

Another perfect parallel is the Zhonbo bandits. They get up to some heinous crap, but amongst them are war veterans who only joined because they didn't want to starve. It doesn't make their crimes okay, but it shows how "good people" can partake in bad systems. Perpetuating others' hardships at the alleviation of their own.

At the end of the day, what both sides want is to prosper. But both nations have corruption and ignore the suffering of those they don't care about. Both nations have deep rooted evil... but they also have good.

Even the story points out how similiar Hasen and Xiao Chiye are. The only real difference is the side of the war they're on. Truthfully, I'm rooting for both of them to find peace for their people. In another world, they could have been good friends or rivals in the same veign as Xiao Fangxu and Qi Shiyu. They could have gone on double dates with their wives and compete in horse races together.

They're all human. Hasen has killed people important to Xiao Chiye. And Xiao Chiye has done the same to Hasen. The cycle continues, which is unfortunate, but both sides are too prideful to concede at each other's injustices which I understand.

I love QJJ man! I love all the characters and how complex they are!

[chickenkurage]

KJABKJHAJHAKJGAKHGKUSGJSHGKSJGSKJGAKJHAKJ CHPATWE 8 WAS NOT I WAS EXPECTING AT ALL BUT OH MY GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSH!!!!!!!!!!!! HONESTLY ONE OF MY FAVORITE CHAPTERS SO FAR IN THIS FIC-

ANYWAYS FIRST OF ALL, EXPERIMENTS ON THE FIGHTERS??? MAKING THEM AGGRESSIVE AND ALL??? WHA- I- IS THIS GONNA COME UP LATER OR SOMETHING BECAUSE WHAT IN THE ABSOLUTE HECK??? AND OFC MAUVE IS REALLY INTERESTED IN THESE EXPERIMENTS BUT YEAH HOW IN THE WORLD DID HE MANAGED TO JUST SLIP PAST AND GRAB THOSE FOR HIMSELF LIKE DANG- I AGREE WITH SLATE HE'S A DOCTOR NOT A SCIENTIST SO DON'T BECOME LIKE A CERTAIN SOMEONE- *AHEM* SABLE- *COUGH* SORRY- (BUT LEARNING ABOUT THE EXPERIMENTS DOES GIVE ME AN OPPORTUNITY FOR MY CORRUPTION AU THOUGH.....), BUT YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH ANOTHER SLATE AND PURPLE MEETING!!! AND A SLATE AND KING MEETING LET'S GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SLATE OUR FAVORITE LITTLE AWKWARD GUY- AND DON'T QUESTIONS THE NAME THE FANDOM GAVE KING SLATE I ASSUME THAT'S WHERE IT COME FROM BECAUSE OF THE COMMUNITY- ANOTHER FLASHBACK OF NAVY WITH HIS FAMILY YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! THEY LOOKED SO HAPPY BEFORE WHAT THE HECK!?!?!? PURPLE SEEMED SO HAPPY BEFORE TOO OH MY GOSH??? NOT THE OVERSIZED JACKET AND BOOTS- BUT ORCHID ACTUALLY KNOWS ABOUT HOW NAVY'S JOB IS LIKE??? ESPECIALLY WITH THAT BRUISE ON HIS NECK- BUT THEY BOTH SEEMED SO HAPPY BEFORE TOO AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA- WHERE DID IT ALL GO WRONGGGGGGGGGG- BUT SLATE ACTUALLY HAS BEEN QUESTIONING HIMSELF WHO HE TRULY WAS BY TOUCHING HIS NECK??? *INHALES* OH MY GOSH IT WILL SOMEHOW ALL CLICKED TO HIM PROBABLY OH MY GOSH- BUT HIIIIIIIIII AGAIN ALAN- AND WHAT??? HE'S ACTUALLY FAKING AND PRETENDING??? 06 HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH THAT??? WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA- SO HE IS TRYING TO FIND HALO... THE SNEAK PEAK OF ARC 4 WITH ALAN AND HAL- OH MY GOSH YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS GIVE HIM WHAT HE F*CKING DESERVES ALAN!!! GIVE HIM IT!!! BUT THE AWKWARD MOMENT OF ALAN SUDDENLY BREAKING IN AND DESTROYING HOUSE JUST TO REALIZE SLATE DOESN'T ACTUALLY KNOW WHERE HALO IS AND ISN'T DOING ANYTHING AT ALL ANYMORE UNDER HIS COMMAND, BUT SLATE CRYING AND POSSIBLY HAVING THE URGE TO FULL ON BREAK DOWN IN FRONT OF ALAN LIKE- SLATE NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO IT'S OKAYYYYYYYYY MAUVE WILL UNDERSTAND I HOPE- MAYBE- I HOPE THOUGH- BUT YES, YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES ALAN AND NULL FINALLY REUNITE!!! WELL SORT OF SINCE NULL IS STILL IN A COMA LIKE SLATE STATED- YES ALAN PLEASE GO VISIT HER WHEN YOU CAN YOU BOTH NEED EACH OTHER AFTER EVERYTHING OH MY GOSH- PLEASEEEEEEEEEEEEEE- BUT IT'S ACTUALLY REVEALED ON WHAT ACTUALLY HAPPENED- THE MEMORY WIPED ACTUALLY WORKED BUT HE'S BEEN GETTING DREAMS AND NIGHTMARES ABOUT WHAT ACTUALLY HAPPENED BEFORE IT WAS ALL WIPED LIKE IT ALL CAME BACK TO HIM, OFC HE DIDN'T FULLY REMEMBER EVERYTHING YET SINCE HE SAID IT'S STILL A WORK IN PROGRESS BUT AT LEAST HE'S REMEMBERING AGAIN!!! BUT HONESTLY I WONDER HOW HE FEELS NOW ABOUT HOW HIS OWN FAMILY TRIED TO LITERALLY RESET HIM COMPLETELY AND ACT LIKE NOTHING HAPPENED... SURE HE HAS THEM ALL FOR HIMSELF AND THEY START TO CARE BUT WHAT ABOUT THE OTHER SIDE OF THE STORY??? LIKE WHAT IF THE MEMORY WIPED DID BRING CONSEQUENCES LIKE DID IT MAKE HIM FORGET HE LITERALLY "DIED" FROM THE CAR CRASH??? HOW HIS IRL FAMILY AND FRIENDS ARE PROBABLY STILL MOURNING FOR HIM RN, LIKE ESPECIALLY HIS OWN HUMAN LIFE... OH MY GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSH- VICTIM PLEASE HE NEEDS TO AT LEAST HEAL SLOWLY AND MAKE PROGRESS YOU CAN'T MAKE YOURSELF AND EVERYONE ELSE ACT LIKE NOTHING HAPPENED OH MY GOSH- IK HE BURNT YOU AND WASN'T RESPONDING BUT THAT'S WHAT HAPPENS WHEN HE'S BEEN THROUGH ABSOLUTE HECK FOR THE PAST THREE WEEKSSS!!! BUT HONESTLY ALAN ACTING LIKE THIS LIKE... MORE DIFFERENTLY AND NOT LIKE A SOFT HEARTED TYPE NOW OR SOMETHING??? IDK IT FEELS MORE DIFFERENT BUT I LOVE IT, OFC HE WANTS TO FIND HALO, OFC HE'LL PROBABLY THINK ABOUT WHAT HIS FAMILY TRIED TO DO TO HIM, LIKE LITERALLY ALL OF THAT AND ETC- AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA ALANNNNNNNNNNN HOW ARE YOU GONNA BE LIKE NOWWWWWWWWW- BUT AT LEAST HIM AND SLATE ARE ON EVEN TERMS AND SLATE FINALLY BROUGHT ALAN BACK TO NULL NOW!!! MOTHER AND SON!!! THEY'RE TOGETHER AGAIN LET'S GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

BRAVO MOMGEYYY!!! BRAVOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! DEFINITELY ONE OF MY FAVORITE CHAPTERS SO FAR IN THIS FIC!!!!

Okay i also agree Chapter 8 is my favorite, since it feature our Boy Failure "Slate" LOLLLLLL

Experimentation was used a lot by Halo before Alan had come into the picture, after all we don't exactly easily acquire super powered sticks. They need some kind of formula to "Cheat" somehow, after all Halo hated losing. And yes, they did manage to develop a "medicine" that somehow give their fighter's speed and strength temporarily. Though at a cost of being quite addicting and sometimes personality changing, depending on the age they had administered the "medication". So, it was quite normal for some of Halo's fighters to grow erratic, easy to anger and sometimes even crazy after consuming so much of the formula. (And I'm really glad that this can connect to your CS Corruption eeeeee)

And lmao, we love our awkward boy failure Slate, who can't even hold a proper conversation with someone his age, aka King LMAO. At least he gets to talk with Purple again!! I really love the part where he's just confused why MT is called King, then Purple tells him his name is Mango Tango, which made it much worse. Because who would call themselves Mango Tango willingly? LOL Slate, don't think about it too much, or your brain might explode, God created you not to think /j

Navy, Orchid and Purple. They seem so happy back then, what happened? What made Navy change into someone who would willingly hurt his kid? What changed him? And the bruise on his neck, what does it mean? And what…."medication"?

Alan just being Slate's opp is just hilarious, imagine him going out his way to go to Mauve's house, beat the shit out of Slate, break half the house, throw Slate through the wall, then stop when you're so-called enemy started crying in front of you LMAO. At least Alan has a heart, somewhere there.

My favorite part of this chapter is really just Slate crying because Alan broke half the house and not the fact Alan had beat the shit out of him. Like what? Slate has his priorities straight LMFAO. Bro is worried about Mauve's house more than his own wellbeing, this boy failure istg.

I'm glad that Alan finally found Null again, and yes, a little about Alan's side. How the memory wiper did work…...but somehow dreams and nightmares kept happening, showing all his memories…. How? That's weird, I wonder who would do that LOL.

I've got to agree with you, Victim really should have gone the more natural way to help Alan. Now he's probably a bit messed up in the head, because we all know Alan doesn't really remember anything but depends on his dreams. It's possible that his information can be wrong (kudos to you 06, don't think I can't see you planning on doing that /j).

And Alan, I hope you guys like this brand-new version….or well not exactly a brand-new version of him, it's still him…. after all, xP.

And hey, at least Alan and Slate are on good terms. God, forbid we see them fighting again, I really doubt Slate would fight back considering he knew how important Alan is to Null lmao. But if he does….I wonder xD. We still have never really see Slate fight, but we know he does have it in there. Talk about sleeper build (Both Alan and Slate lmao, I love these two goobers)

And hehe I'm glad you like the chapter 8! Chapter 9 next people!!!! - S

[kiwiana-writes]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thanks @cha-melodius and @stereopticons for the tags! I know I’ve done this in the past, but it’s been a hot minute…

How many works do you have on ao3?

239!

What's your total ao3 word count?

822,937—but that’s a collaboration-boosted lie. Per my writing tracker, words that I have personally written and published on AO3 is 693,613

What fandoms do you write for?

Mostly RWRB these days, but the majority of my back catalogue is Schitt’s Creek, with a few others sprinkled in for fun. The Pairing definitely made my brain whirr… we’ll see.

Top five fics by kudos:

With so much of my heart (that none is left to protest), RWRB, 65.5k, the Much Ado About Nothing stage actor AU

Kinda think that I might be his type, RWRB, 12.8k, Alex and Bea fake date and Alex gets a little distracted by Bea’s brother

We were supposed to find this, RWRB, 3.3k, soulmate AU

We always walked a very thin line, Happiest Season, 2.7k, Riley character study/alternate ending

All the Lonely Starbucks Lovers, RWRB, 5.8k, barista Henry repeatedly putting his foot in his mouth in front of his coworker crush

(This is how I learned Puck It has been knocked out of my top five 😭)

Do you respond to comments?

Yes! And absent a Schitt’s Creek resurgence of some kind that sees me absolutely inundated I don’t see that changing.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Five ways it could have ended (and one way it still could), Schitt’s Creek, 1.2k, for the love of god read the tags

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Like… most of them? I love to end on a good HEA haha. For sheer joy, though, it’s probably With so much of my heart (that none is left to protest)

Do you get hate on fics?

From time to time. I’m very free with the delete button. Weirdly, it occasionally pops up in the AO3 comments but mostly seems to come to me via anons on tumblr??? I have no idea why.

Do you write smut?

It’s been known to happen, I guess 👀

Craziest crossover:

I haven’t written any AO3-era crossovers! A few fusions/media AUs, but no crossovers.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope. I’ve only been asked once, and they wanted to post off AO3 which is a big heck nope for me (and my permissions statement has now been updated to reflect that)

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Heck yeah I have. I’ve done several anthology-type collaborations where we each wrote a chapter in a fic, and I’ve fully cowritten fics with @ships-to-sail several times. We have another collab coming up for @aroyallybigbangrwrb and I’m also cowriting The Big Secret AU with @indestructibleheart which is essentially us one-upping each other on emotionally devastating ideas until someone writes them down. Good system 😂

All time favorite ship?

Stop making pansexuals choose things.

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Look, the chances of kinktober 2021 being finished at this point are slim 😂

Schitt’s Creek kinkverse… I don’t know. I have little snippets written of future fics and they’re great but… idk. Maybe I’ll write one vignette-y wrap up fic one day.

What are your writing strengths?

Narrative POV, dialogue that feels like the characters, epistolary bullshit, smut apparently.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Coming up with actual plot lmao. Visual descriptors — I’m not even remotely a visual person so I really really struggle with writing the sorts of things people can visualise. Also like… the passage of time? A scam.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

Love it. I’ll shoulder tap a fluent speaker if I need an actual sentence/anything Google isn’t super reliable for. Forever heartbroken that there are no fics in my second language in AO3 and no reason for me to be able to sprinkle it into my own writing (though one of the subscriber shindig prompts might be about to change that 👀)

First fandom you wrote in?

HP

Favorite fic you've written?

Stop! Asking! Pansexuals! To! Choose! Things!

I don’t know there are 239 of the bloody things 😂 I’m far more interested in what other people’s favourites are than what my own is!

I have no sense of who’s done this already so apologies if this is a double up but tagging @agame-writes @affectionatelyrs @anincompletelist @cricketnationrise @getmehighonmagic

@happiness-of-the-pursuit @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @indestructibleheart @inexplicablymine @nontoxic-writes

@read-and-write- @rmd-writes @sparklepocalypse @welcometololaland @whimsymanaged and, as always, anyone who wants to play!

[frobinfandays]

Welcome to #FRobinMonth2024, a whole month of #FRobin goodness! 06 Feb - 09 March

Week 1: 06 Feb - 13 Feb

Word prompt: Publisher Music prompt: Green Day - Extraordinary girl Visual prompt: Autumn bridge  Questions: 1) When did you start shipping Franky x Robin?   2) Who do you think is the most romantic one between the two? 

Week 2: 14 Feb - 21 Feb

Word prompt: Sunlight  Music prompt: Billy Joel - She’s Always A Woman Visual prompt: Winter rose Questions: 1) Do you have any FRobin merch, be it official or fan made?  2) What’s your headcanon for their future? 

Week 3: 22 Feb - 29 Feb

Word prompt: In your arms  Music prompt: Talking Heads - This must be the place  Visual prompt: Spring cat Question: 1) Which meme do you associate with Frobin?  2) Which is your favorite scene? 

Week 4: 01 Mar - 09 Mar

Word prompt: Blueprints  Music prompt: Walk the Moon - Shut up and dance Visual prompt: Summer train Question: 1) How did Robin apologize to Franky after squeezing his family jewels? 2) When did you start shipping Franky x Robin?

Additional Inspiration for the whole month: 

How do I participate?

Create something related to the prompts (one, two, or all three or just answer one or both questions) and our OTP. Upload it and enjoy that you created something.

But I can’t draw or write…

Don’t worry! There is so much more you can do! All forms of media/art are allowed! Editing a video, writing a fanfiction, formulating a headcanon or an analysis. Drawing a fanart, editing a graphic or creating a moodboard. Recording an audio or a musical composition, creating a playlist of songs, getting out your cosplay or doing a photoshooting with some merch you own, maybe giving a recommendation to a fanart or fanfiction! Also, for the first time we’ll add questions that you can write answers to! Just share your answers! 

Let’s get creative! Everything is welcome!

Don’t be shy with liking and reblogging each other’s work.

Will you reblog/retweet my work?

Heck, yeah we will! Please use the hashtag #FRobinMonth24 as the first tag (Tumblr) and tag us in your text @frobinfandays or, on Twitter, @FrankyAndRobin  or @frobin.bsky.social on bsky.

Rules:

Everyone is welcome to participate.

This is an event to celebrate the romantic involvement of Franky and Robin from One Piece, but portrayals of them as friends are welcome too! (But no other ships with either of them.)

No reposting of other people’s work! (Sharing a link is fine, using official works for edits is also fine.)

You are absolutely allowed to use the visual prompts in your work!

You do not need to have a Tumblr blog to participate on Tumblr. However, if you would like to see your work featured on the FRobinFandays blog, we need you to submit it to us. (You can stay anonymous if you want to.)

We’ll also have this event on Twitter! Post your stuff there too and tag the FRobin Twitter @FrankyAndRobin and also use the hashtag #FRobinMonth24.

First time we’ll also have this event on bsky @frobin.bsky.social and also just write FRobin in the post (I’m not sure how it works just yet). 

Everyone else feel free to check out what is happening on those social media platforms!

Sharing your links from Twitter on Tumblr (as a submission for example) and other social media sites is absolutely fine!

Don’t worry if you’re no native speaker. Write in the language you feel comfortable with!

(I don’t feel like it should have to be said but…) No bashing on other artists’ works or harassing others. Franky and Robin would never approve of bullying, and neither will we.

Please help to spread the word with spreading this post.

Have fun! <3

Feel free to ask, just leave a comment on this document, ask on Tumblr or on Twitter! 

Rules on Google

[multi-fandom-agereg]

Heya! do you have agere headcanons for teru minamoto? i hc him as a flip :D

🐈 Teru minanoto Flip! Headcanons

🚀 ; I'd like to think he's also a flip! But since I think he'd be a little bit on the little side, there may be a few Headcanons of him as a Regressor than a caregiver (only by 2-3)

👾 ; HC count , Little (12) , CG (9)

⚠️ ; slight angst (feeling the need to be mature and/or perfect for the sake of family and peers), Regressing due to stress and anxiety, exorcising (mentioning a few times) + some stuff may not be canon as I'm not too far into the manga myself. Such as his relationship with hanako-kun. (Which i headcanon them as friends just because)

🐈 ; he regresses quite often than not. Mainly due to his family pressuring him about his exorcist 'job' he does. Growing up quickly to pursue his families plan to be the top, and best exorcists known to man.

🐈 ; as the oldest he always was more the father figure of Kou, than a big brother to him. He doesn't mind really. But he still wishes he remembered more of his childhood outside of being the babysitter for his absent parents

🐈 ; his little age is 1-4. Sometimes he could be 6-8 if he's not too deep into his regression state.

🐈 ; when he's little he loves anything paranormal. And is absolutely obsessed with ghost busters. He will dress up into anything that would be themed "ghost hunter" worthy and go capture ghosts with his broom.

🐈 ; despite his differences with hanako when it comes to the big kid stuff, he quite enjoys his company when regressed. Heck, hanako will even play along if he felt like it

🐈 ; has no interest in having a caregiver. However a babysitter is probably something he'd budge on. It's not that he wouldn't want a CG, but he always says; "I just need to figure out my own problems first"

🐈 ; Kou is his babysitter/sibby/playmate! They trust eachother to death. So of course they both trust eachother with their Regression. (I headcanon kou as an age regressor—)

🐈 ; love the attention. He craves it, he wants it. Call him Prince and he'll be the happiest baby there is. Just praise him for literally anything, he'd end up being one clingy kiddo

🐈 ; has a cat onsie because he loves cats too much. He also probably watches bluey and Garfield outside of watching anything with ghosts in them

🐈 ; he is good at masking when he's regressed. After an incident in school when he overhears his popular friend's opinion on "childish" things he felt too embarrassed to openly regress. Being the class president and all. But call this man "bud" or "kid" OR even "prince" he'll softens up and feels less guilty about it

🐈 ; his favorite song to listen to when regressed is "Sweet dreams (sky like dreams)" by Ferdinand fka Left Boy And "Mama's boy" by Dominic Fike. Because he relates to them in some ways. Especially after he became the school president and school popular

🐈 ; owns too much agere gear for one person. But then again, there's no such thing as "too many"!

🐈 ; when he isn't an age regressor he's a 24/7 caregiver. And an amazing one at that. Despite him being power hungry to succeed at his job, he would do anything for his little one.

🐈 ; sometimes full of himself, but he's not doing it on purpose. He wants to be the best caregiver for you, and since he grew up to be, well, perfect. he wants to be a perfect caregiver as well

🐈 ; "mm.." "oh yeah? Go on.." "mhm?" Whenever you rant/ramble/talk about your interest to him

🐈 ; doesn't seem to realize he's a spoiler. (Daily shopping, getting you too many toys, getting you everything you ask for, etc). Though he doesn't seem to mind if asked

🐈 ; he's not a good comforter.. but that doesn't mean he doesn't try. He always listens to what you have to say, and tries to understand your feelings. If that doesn't work he usually turns on your favorite show/movie/etc in attempt to help you feel better

🐈 ; outside of being a total spoiler, he can also be a babier. He doesn't try to do it as much if you don't like the idea of his babying— but when he does he will do it in a more protective-over-your-physical-being way. (Ex; ,"hey! Watch their head!" Saying this while hanako and Nene toss books at one another for.. some reason

🐈 ; absolutely refuses to exorcist anything or anyone when his little is regressing. For obvious reasons, he doesn't want to get all serious when he's on the job and babysitting his little

🐈 ; doesn't understand gifts. Give him stuff like buttons, rocks, pile of dirt, a stick, anything random, he wouldn't get it. He'll accept them, but most of the time he doesn't understand it. Once when you gave him a stick (maybe for a game you were playin, or something) and he ended up just throwing it for you to catch it. He doesn't understand but.. he has spirit I guess

🐈 ; calls you things like "sunshine" and "honey" if you don't mind petnames +of course any petnames you wanna be called as well

[theslvttysimp]

$THE BROTHERS WIN A SCRATCH OFF$

$$$ LuciferXmc, mammonXmc, beelXmc$$$

Scenario: You gift your favorite demon a scratch off ticket from a nearby Devildom gas station. Turns out the ticket you gave them is a winner! 10 million grimm!

(I have never written a fanfic or anything in my life, so pls be nice! I'm just a bored girl who just lost a scratch off 😔)

!!!Not proof read!!

$

$

$

$

Lucifer

This man is loaded with grimm, pride hurts a little bit. He doesn't want you to think he's broke, but flattered your spent your own money on him.

Gives you a soft smile as he takes the ticket. " Thank you MC, how thoughtful of you." He presses a soft kiss on the top of your head before heading back to his study.

Leaves it on his desk for two days, lost in his stacks of paperwork. It's only when he finally decides to clean his desk and finds the ticket is when he scratches it off.

Widens his eyes slightly at the winning ticket. Casually stuffs it in his suit pocket and goes about his day as normal.

Never tells you he won it, but since he has the ability to load cash in to your account he deposits 9 million Grimm in to your savings account. He wouldn't dare keep all the winnings to himself, especially since his darling MC bought it for him.

He'll only tell you he won the ticket when you notice 9 million grimm in your account.

Refuses to take the grimm back. He loves you and wants you to be financially secure. Just please for the love of Diavolo do not tell Mammon.

Mammon

You swear you saw him drool at the sight of the ticket you handed him.

Needs to ask for a coin from you to scratch the ticket ( lmao poor baby is so broke)

Scratches the ticket on the floor of your room.

" 10 MILLION GRIMM!?"

He's scream crying all over you. He's hugging you so tight, getting his demon snot all over your shirt.

" MC! WE'RE GOING SHOPPING! NOW!"

Legit drags you out the house to cash it. Off to the Devildom mall you go!

Buys you anything and everything your heart desires. " Oi! You like that necklace, give it to me. The great Mammon wants ya livin' lavish!"

He has his arm wrapped around your waist the hold time with his head held high. He's feeling like a million grimm! ( pun intended)

You are sweating fron the amount of stuff you are carrying. Both of you are double fisted with shopping bags!

Drags you to the casino because he sweats he can double the amount he has leftover from your shopping spree.

And just like that...POOF.... 10 million grimm is gone.

Beel

Has absolutely no idea how to work this thing

You help him scratch it, to yout suprise it's a winner!

" huh, 10 million grimm? I wonder how many fried scorpion sandwiches I can get with that."

Takes you out to dinner immediately. Hope you're hungry, MC!

The amount of grimm this man spent on food in one sitting legit scared you a little. You thought you were going to have to roll him out of the joint.

Holds your hand the whole time at the numerous restaurants you guys went to that day. He is so happy you thought of him when gifting him the ticket. Now he's hanging out with his favorite person, doing his favorite activity. He's happier than a pig in shit.

Carries you home since you're so full you can't even move.

On the way home while you're asleep in his arms, he orders both of you ice cream to enjoy at home when you wake up.

Secretly snuck a few forehead kisses while carrying you.

( ps: I really am new to Tumblr so if this post looks weird I am so sorry please cut me some slack lmaooo)

[britishsass]

Wei - MTaS Headcanons

I've seen basically nothing about this guy, so I feel like posting some headcanons about one of my favorite characters in My Time at Sandrock.

Wei has anger issues. (Or, rather, had-- He's gone to seminars and read multiple books about it, as he says when you compliment him on his personality.)

He can be absolutely terrifying if he's upset. (Have you seen what he says if you give him hated gifts? "Are you not afraid someone will put you in your place, going around acting like this?" according to the wiki, holy heck. Dude can be horrifying if you ever do get on his bad side, but he tries his best to make that hard)

He's tried to get away from Yan before. There were lots and lots of incidents with the two of them accidentally moving to the same town and ending up arguing over who moved first, until Wei just sort of... Gave up on trying to escape.

He's got major trust issues. (He mentions his own team was paid off to abandon him in the Periphs, his partner Esmerelda left him because of Yan, etc.)

He liked his dad better. (He mentions how his father tried his best with teaching them, while Yan mentions his mother when sand drawing)

Wei's love of weapons is partially from his time spent in the Periphs, though he enjoyed a nice spar beforehand as well. (He used to win every Showdown at High Noon. He stopped competing after a while because he thought it ruined the fun for others.)

Wei and Yan lived in Portia when they were younger, though most of the Portian residents don't remember them. However, Presley, Higgins probably do, though Higgins was young when he met them and wasn't a fan of either.)

He loves relics, and used to have a nice collection of his own! However, during his stint of being presumed dead, Yan sold all of them.

He has chronic headaches and backaches, though he usually works through them. Fang, Owen, and maybe Mi-an are the only ones he's ever told that to-- mostly because he never thought it was important to mention.

Wei's closest friends in Sandrock are Owen and... yeah, it's just Owen for a long time. Though he appreciates Mi-an and the builder, he's most likely to go to Owen if he needs someone to just talk to.

He doesn't celebrate his birthday. Throughout his life, it was a day of arguing with Yan, so he just. Doesn't care about it being his birthday anymore. It's another day, and if someone celebrates it with him, bully to them! But he's happy to just have a normal day.

He'd like a very normal life already, please, just give him a normal life without Yan ever coming up again.

He loathes it when people call him President, Yan, or anything even vaguely about that.

He doesn't really agree with the Church of the Light (Too interested in relics and the like) but he does understand them.

Feel free to add more if you have any headcanons! I'd love to hear.

[eorzeanflowers]

10 Fandoms, 10 Characters, 10 tags

Basic rules: choose 10 fandoms that you are part of/support, and choose a favorite character from each of those. Then, tag ten folks!

Tagged by: @miqojak Ty for the tag!!! Sorry it took a hot minute.

Tagging: Uhhhhh, @terminuspride, @fair-fae, @alannah-corvaine, @voidsentprinces, @healerstail, @ahollowgrave, @alicelufenia, @starrysnowdrop, @briar-ffxiv, @driftward

Now to the list! In no real particular order cause I really just drift from thing to thing.

Penny Polendina (RWBY)

I love my quirky little robot girl. She's the absolute best, a brilliant fighter and very emotionally intelligent. She is such a cheerful ideal, someone who tries to see the best in people. She knows when they've gone too far and isn't afraid to stand up for what she wants! Which is the whole core of her little arc. Being a weapon given a soul and all. It is a beautiful story of a little girl who cares so much and wishes to be able to just... be that cheerful little girl without the weight of the world. Its just so sweet.

Honorable mentions: Ruby, Weiss, Blake, Yang, Oscar, Neo

2. Kafka (Star Rail)

In all honesty she's the reason I'm even playing Star Rail. She is such a mysterious character, with a voice to die for. Yes, Hoyoverse characters tend to be rather shallow (that's a gacha game for ya), but Kafka just hits everything I love in a character. Her character short when she was fully released is... *chef's kiss* just amazing. I will admit, every time she does her ult in game I join her in saying "Boom." ^_^;

Honorable Mentions: March 7th, Stelle (Trailblazer F), Seele, Bronya, Jingliu

3. Lyse (FFXIV)

Shocker, the leading lady of Stormblood is still my favorite? Honestly, all three of the ladies from Stormblood are the trifecta of favorites. (Lyse, Fordola and Yotsuyu) The various storylines that cause them to interact is such a delight. I wasn't too bothered by the whole "Yda was my sister" thing, cause well, Yda was barely in the game post ARR... And like, it was always Yda and Papalymo. Never just one or the other. So when Lyse got the chance to shine and actually take center stage, I was smitten. She's tough, gentle, sassy, collected, brilliant, a bit silly, and more. Such a well written character. I'm still upset she left the scions tbh. Could've added a little hair color diversity by a little bit. :P

Honorable mentions: Aymeric, Hilda, Erenville, Zero, Y'shtola, Thancred, Ryne, Gaia, Minfillia

4. Gideon Nav (The Locked Tomb)

Ok, seriously, this series grabbed me by the throat and would not let me go. Gideon is such a lovely first viewpoint (and I adore all the viewpoint characters). She takes no shit, talks a lotta shit, and can fight a whole heck more shit. The way she interacts with Harrow at first, then the other Necromancers and their Cavaliers is such a delight. Sure you hate Harrowhark so much Gideon, why are you obeying her command to not speak a single word to literally anyone else, hmmmmmmmmmmm?????? Also the gay panic that Gideon seems to have on the regular is just. Great. I don't want to speak too much more on Gideon, cause this series is just great and you should read it.

Honorable mentions: Harrowhark Nonagesimus, Nona, Camilla Hect, Ianthe Tridentarius, Coronabeth Tridentarius.

5. Raiden Ei (Genshin Impact)

Last time it was Eula, now it is Raiden Ei. It is always a toss up between them, if I'm being honest. Ei is just... such a sad puppy? XD Its the best way to describe her. So trapped in her own past and trying to do what would best preserve her sister's memory... She's just SAD guys. Yeah, she may not be the best governing force for her nation, and she indirectly killed a lotta people with her retreating away and leaving a puppet behind, but we the Traveler showed up and fixed things! Also she gets two amazing boss fights, I honestly wish I could do the story one again but I ain't working through Mondstat and Liyue again. >.>;

Honorable mentions: Eula, Alhaithem, Deya, Kamisato Ayaka, Zhongli, Nahida, Navia, the Wanderer, Wriothsley

6. Karlach (Baldur's Gate 3)

KARLACH IS THE BEST AND SHE IS SO SWEET AND LOVELY AND SHOULD NOT HAVE TO GO BACK TO HELL OR DIE OR [redacted]. She is such a lovely goofball that even shows platonic love if you don't romance her and I really think that is great! Her arc tying into Gortash was delightful, bringing her much more into the story instead of just a bystander like a couple of them. (Like out of all the origin companions Astarion barely has any connection to any of the major players in the story, he's pretty self contained tbh.) Her sweetness, the way she says she's gonna eat dirt if you leave her camp, and her cheerful demeanor are just.... Amazing. I'm really running out of words for Karlach cause she is my favorite. I'm gonna have to start BG3 up again and actually play my romance run of her soon.

Honorable mentions: Shadowheart, Wyll, Astarion, Lae'zel, Dammon, Orin, Jaheira, Minthara, Isobel, Aylin

7. The Doctor (Doctor Who)

Ok, a bit of a cop out since, you know, they are the star of the show. BUT COME ON. The Doctor in their various iterations have been so enjoyable. My personal favorite is Tennet's 10, but Capaldi's 12 is a strong second. Its just a good show to binge at times. There are a lottta good episodes, a few really bad ones, but overall its a good time. The scene at the end of the special where they rescue Gallifrey is still one of my favorite scenes in the whole franchise. And hell, the Archeologist is based (loosely) on them, so how can I not include them?

Honorable mentions: DONNA NOBLE, Rose Tyler, Clara Oswald, Bill Potts, Me, Strax

8. Xion (Kingdom Hearts)

Have I mentioned I love tragic characters? Xion is literally the definition of tragedy, with all the problems with her just existing lol. Her presence in 358/2 Days really made the game for me. Roxas was kinda bland and having someone that was similar in age (like Sora, Riku and Kairi were) to interact with made it all that much better. AND SHE GETS THE HAPPY ENDING. Eventually. Boy is it a long road, but that's Kingdom Hearts for ya.

Honorable Mentions: Kairi, Namine, Riku, Sora, Aqua, Terra, Master Xehanort, Isa, Lea

8. Lucina (Fire Emblem)

I really wanna pick someone else in all honesty, but Fire Emblem has a worse problem than Hoyoverse games in their bit characters. :/ Lucina is a strong character that really delighted me when I played Awakening. She's such a surprise that it really helps make that Fire Emblem my favorite. She's got a good supporting cast too, with Robin and her dad Chrom, but Awakening was really her game. Chrom was kinda there just to be her dad lol

Honorable mentions: Robin, Chrom, Ike, Mist, Soren, Sumia, Erika, Marisa, Lyon, Elincia

9. Trevor Belmont (Castlevania)

Full disclosure, I have not played his game, in fact the only two castlevania's I have played both feature non Belmont's as the lead players (Portrait of Ruin and Order of Ecclasia). But the way Trevor is in the show, OH BOY. He is rough, he is blunt, he is smart, he is SOOOO dumb, he is loyal, he is a fighter, he never gives up, HE IS JUST GREAT. He's also one of my biggest Bi panics when he shows how much of a badass he is in episode, I think, 4 or 5 or later? Its been a hot minute since I watched that series. When he first uses the flail weapon that I forget the name of.

Honorable mentions: Shanoa, Jonathan Morris, Charlotte Aulin, Sypha Belnades, Alucard, Dracula

10. Aigis (Persona)

Aigis is a super cutie and I love her interactions with the female protagonist. I really wish P3 wasn't such a long game and Aigis actually showed up a little earlier. She's just a doll! I do need to try and find a copy (or emulate) FES to play the storyline with her as the lead singer. Its just so rough to get thru P3 I just lose motivation. T.T I've made it to the vacation part with the female lead, like, three times and no further cause my motivation tanks. WHICH IS WEIRD CAUSE THAT'S WHEN YOU MEET AIGIS. Its just too long for me I guess. XD

Honorable mentions: Teddie, Female lead P3, Male lead P4, Yukari Takeba, Mitsuru Kirijo, Akihiko Sanada, Fuuka Yamagishi, Shinji Aragaki, Junpei Iori, Chidori Yoshino, Elizabeth, Theodore

Not gonna lie, kinda struggled to find a full 10 franchises to pull a character from. My mind just goes blank when asked my favorite character from X place. Names escape me and everything. XD But as you can see, I love robot girls, strong girls, mysterious girls, tragic girls, a fail man, and traveling weirdo.

[sl-newsie]

Merry And Bright (Dr. Spencer Reid x OC) *Christmas Special* 🎄

(Summary: A coworker is stuck working over the holidays, so Spencer takes them to look at Christmas lights to cheer them up… and maybe confess his feelings?)

Christmas is supposed to be ‘the most wonderful time of the year,’ as the song goes. But how can it be so wonderful when I can’t even visit my family? It’s been a week since my boss scheduled me to work over the holidays, due to the office being “overstaffed.” Basically nobody else wants to work and I’m too soft to say no. Now… Christmas seems so much darker.

“You feeling ok, Darlene?” Spencer asks from behind.

I shake away my sad thoughts and offer a weak smile. “As good as I can.”

Thank God for Spencer Reid. The smartest person I know, my favorite coworker, and a small- er, kinda big, crush of mine. I’ve been working as a secretary for half a year now, and in the short time we’ve known each other Spencer has proven time and time again to be the most supportive and caring person I’ve ever met.

“I wish I worked for the BAU instead. That way I might actually get a break for the holidays.”

Spencer chuckles and hands me a candy cane. “Crime doesn’t take a holiday. You still wouldn’t get a guaranteed break. We’ll all be on call over the holidays.”

“Oh, I’m sorry Spencer.” I take the candy cane and give it a lick. “Thanks. You remember how much I love candy. Before you go, I got a gift for you!”

“Aw you didn’t have to-” Spencer starts to object but then goes quiet when I hand him a small package. “What on Earth…?” He tears off the wrapping and immediately gets a giddy smile. “Oh my God! Is this- is it-?!”

“An autographed photo of Doctor Who! I got it during my work trip to Britain last spring! Merry Christmas-!”

I barely get to finish before Reid suddenly sweeps me in for a hug. “Thank you so much, Darlene!”

“O- Oh! I didn’t think you were one for hugs- only handshakes-” I sputter.

Reid pulls away, almost looking as awkward as I must, and grabs my hand for a handshake.

“Right, right… Um, say if you aren’t doing anything after work tonight I was wondering… if maybe you’d like to go look at Christmas lights?”

Did I- did I hear that right? “Reid, did you say 'look at Christmas lights?'” A smile spreads onto my face.

Spencer mistakes this as mockery. “I- I’m sorry if it seems weird, it’s just I remember you said you usually go out looking at Christmas lights with your family. And since you can’t go home for Christmas I thought I’d take you around.”

He… he remembered! “Spencer, I’d love to! But I couldn’t ask you to do that, you’ve probably already got plans. Heck, today’s Christmas Eve!”

But Reid shakes his head. “Actually, I don’t have plans. My mom’s been too busy for me to visit, and the rest of the team’s off doing their own traditions. Usually during Christmas I just stay home and read a few book series, but thought you might like some company. That is… if you don’t mind…?”

My smile grows wider. “Spencer, I’d absolutely love that!” I swivel around and start sorting my paperwork away, then grab my purse. “I was just about to clock out, and I can’t think of anything else I'd love more than to go see Christmas lights! I can’t believe you remembered!”

Reid keeps trying to think of what to say but instead stands there with his mouth hanging open, so I save him the trouble and squeeze his hand. 

“I’ll go bring my car around! I’m guessing you know all the best spots to look?”

“Y-Yeah- yeah!” Spencer gets a hold on what’s happening and starts following me to the coat closet. “I know a very big house Rossi always talks about that always decorates for Christmas. I think you’ll like it.”

“I’m sure I’ll love it! I’ll meet you out front!” I give a quick wave and dash off towards the parking lot door.

20 minutes later of laughing and listening to classic Christmas carols, Spencer directs me to drive down a street that, quite frankly, has some of the biggest houses I’ve ever seen!

“Jeez, Spencer. This is the richy-rich-rich neighborhood! This place has got to have some nice decorations!”

Sure enough, the farther we drive down the street the more exquisite and extreme the decoration displays become. Gorgeous nativity scenes, cute reindeer, and so many lights that the entire street is lit up! Once we get towards the end, I start to see the cream of the crop.

“Oh my…” My jaw drops and I have to re-grip the steering wheel. “Spencer…”

The cute nerd chuckles. “I thought you’d like it. We can park right over here!”

I park to the side and we both step out to walk over to the giant display in front of us. By now it’s gotten colder and starting to snow.

“How cliché, a white Christmas,” Reid comments as he joins me on the sidewalk. “Be careful, there might be-”

“Oh God-!” I feel my feet slide out from underneath me and I start to slip-!

I feel lanky arms wrap around my waist and pull me up before I face-plant into the snow, bringing me almost face-to-face with Spencer.

“...there might be ice,” he finishes in a whisper. 

“Right. Thanks…” I catch my breath and fight to not keep looking into his chocolate eyes.

He blinks, then seems to get his thoughts together. “Right, um-” He helps steady me and shuffles away to give me space.

“Do they put this up every year?” I try to ignore the itching awkwardness draping the atmosphere and look back at the magnificent decorations.

“I think so. Rossi says they add something every year.” 

We take a few minutes to walk the edge of the fence and take in everything, then Spencer speaks up again.

“Darlene, do you still feel sad about missing out on Christmas?”

After a few seconds of thinking, I have to shake my head. “Actually, no. I’m not missing out on Christmas. I’m spending it differently, that’s all. And for what it’s worth, I’m glad I got to spend it with you.” I discreetly see a small blush grow on Reid’s face. “Still, I do miss my family. But there’s always Easter.”

Spencer nods in agreement. “When it comes to society, family is like the way of life that binds us all together. We all have our own routines and morals that can make each family similar but also individually unique.”

I smile at his philosophical words. “Especially when times are rough, it's assuring to turn to a comforting religion without having to worry about the corruption of humanity.”

“Society is the unavoidable way of life that binds us all together.” 

I can tell Reid’s about to start ranting, but I don’t mind. If anything, I like hearing him talk.

“Americans are subconsciously members of multiple social classes and in doing so they build invisible barriers towards members from different classes, hinting at social prejudice. We all have our own routines and morals that fit us into different social classes. As a society, we are each brought up to have a social role, like the stereotypes we think of.”

“Like the quiet one, the weird one, the loud one, the funny one…?”

He points at me. “Exactly! And if we wish to have a different social role, it’s difficult to change them because we are going against society’s expectations and therefore causing more pressure on ourselves. But if we are unhappy with our current roles, our mental health will still be affected.”

“Like a never-ending roundabout,” I think out loud.

“Huh?” Reid looks confused.

“You know, when you’re stuck in a roundabout and don’t know where to exit. Driving 'round and 'round and 'round. Um, as much as this is entertaining to talk about, what exactly is your point?”

Spencer’s face flushes again and he starts fidgeting with his hands, avoiding my gaze by looking back and forth from the house and the ground.

“Darlene, um… I didn’t just ask you to look at lights just to pass the time.”

I shrug and give him a small smile. “I know. You just feel sorry that I couldn’t go home and want to make sure I’m not alone on Christmas. And I thank you for that.”

But Spencer shakes his head and keeps avoiding my gaze. “No, that’s not it, it’s that- I- You- ugh.” 

He brings a hand to his forehead and tries to piece his thoughts together. I never thought I’d see the great Dr Spencer Reid so flustered. 

“Darling, I wanted to-”

My hand flies to my mouth and my eyes go wide. “Wait. What did you just say?”

Spencer tilts his head and rethinks his statement, then gasps. “Oh God- I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean-! Well, I…”

I hope he’s thinking what I think he is…

I harness my courage and, slightly trembling, grab Reid’s hand. “Spencer… Did you mean to say that? I didn’t even think you knew what pet names are.”

Reid’s just as tense as I am and finally lifts his head to meet my eyes. “This seems wrong. I was hoping to talk to you after the holidays. I’m not so smart with relationship rituals-”

“Spencer.”

“Yeah?” 

“Are you trying to explain how your feelings for me have grown differently from a workplace colleague?”

“Actually I’d phrase it more like- Oh. Um… yes.” Spencer looks down at our intertwined hands. “I’m sorry if I offended you. I know some women aren’t fond of pet names, it’s just that your name is Darlene and, well, darling just comes to mind-”

“I love it,” I reply with a smile.

Reid’s eyes widen. “You do? You’re not just trying to be nice? I’ll stop if you want-”

“Spencer, I love hearing you lecture but for once can you please let me talk?” I can’t keep the joy from spreading on my face. “I feel the same! I love seeing your different vests at work, how you always bring a different book to talk about. I love all your random facts, your mismatched socks! I love how you’re always so thoughtful to ask how I’m doing every day and actually care to listen!”

With every complement Spencer’s eyes go wider and his jaw drops, almost making me believe he’s about to start mocking me-

“D- Do you love… me?” He asks almost too softly for me to hear.

God, what have I gotten myself into? The cliché crush on a coworker? That’s either embarrassing or pathetic!

I struggle to find the right words. “I- You- We- It’s… Yes? Now before you start lecturing about how immature that is-”

“I love you too, darling.”

Before I can utter another syllable Spencer grips my hand tighter and pulls me in to press a soft kiss on my parted lips. For once in my life all logic flies out the window and all I want is him. I use my free hand to grab Reid’s scarf to pull in for a deeper kiss, and I feel him moan against my lips. After what seems like only milliseconds, we both have to pull away to breathe.

“Should have brought some mistletoe,” I pant. “You mean to tell me you wanted to take me here to ask me on a date?”

Reid groans but still doesn’t seem to regret the kiss. “Yes. I’d call that immature. But I’ve been waiting for over a month now, and I couldn’t wait any longer.”

I lean in to press a kiss on his warm cheek. “It’s the best Christmas present I could ever ask for, Spencer. Does this mean I’m yours now?”

Reid smirks and rests his head on top of mine, staring right at me. “I’m yours, Darlene.”

I smile and hug him closer, oblivious to the fluffy snow covering us as the bright Christmas lights illuminate this magical moment. “Merry Christmas, Spencer.”

“Merry Christmas darling.”

[inhurtandincomfort]

3, 6, and 14 for Eldwin?

Thanks for the ask!

From this ask game

3: How much autonomy are they given?

Not much, truthfully. He is allowed some autonomy over his own appearance, if he behaves, but he must be neat and adhere to societal norms, exceptions being made only for undercover work. Medical autonomy is an absolute No, he is not allowed to make any decisions in regards to his own health. Clyde owns him, and Clyde's the one paying for all treatment so why should Eldwin get a say? Plus he's proven time and time again that he doesn't exactly have his own best interests in mind, so really, it's for the best.

6: Do they have a comfort object?

Not an object exactly. He doesn't own much at all truth be told. He tries to keep himself occupied with work at all times. And if there's no work or training to do, well. He doesn't have a very good time. BUT!

After moving into the manor, with no distractions his mental health plummets and his dissociation only grows worse. And I think, after receiving permission from cat-loving Alistair, Nels (Eldwin's main Handler - Clyde owns him, but Nels trained him when he was first acquired) gets him-

You guessed it.

A cat. He's gonna get a cat. I haven't decided on much yet, old cat, kitten, black or white, fluffy or short-haired, I don't know, but one things for certain: He will have a cat, and he will be very soft for it and it will be adorable.

I'm sorry this was a long winded answer to a short question lol

14: Do they have a favorite food? How often do they have it?

So I've mentioned before that he doesn't have a great relationship with food, but he likes chocolate and doesn't get it often because it's very expensive. I can elaborate a bit though, these asks are my opportunity to ramble and by god will I seize it lol. He's only had it like, twice; when he was 14 before he got kidnapped - it was winter, he was starving and freezing and knew he wouldn't survive much longer on the streets anyway so when a wealthy woman offered to help him, alarm bells were ringing, but he was also like "well if I go with her I Might die, if I stay here I'll definitely die so eh what the heck." so he went with her and she gave him chocolate and, as a poor victorian boy who had been living off other peoples scraps it was damn well the best thing he'd ever tasted. (Then she offered him a job and he was like yeah sure I'm definitely not gonna do a runner with some of your most valuable items. And then he ended up in her basement with a bunch of other street kids she was planning to sell. Oh well. The chocolate was nice and hey, he's not dead.)

The second time was after a Very Traumatic Event, he was beaten up, badly injured and Nels ended up bringing him to his own apartment (which is a spare, he doesn't live there) to clean him up so he doesn't have to go home yet (because Eldwin may or may not be on Clyde's bad side at this point. And Nels really takes pity on him) anyway there isn't much in the way of food at the apartment so Nels manages to dig out some non-perishables like nuts and some chocolate, but still has to actively order him to eat it. This is actually a scene I was writing awhile ago but said I couldn't share bc it would hit better once you know the characters but. I'm telling you anyway so perhaps the illusion is already ruined lol but idc

Anyway yeah, that was longer than necessary but hey. He definitely prefers snack foods over full meals. Once he moves into the Farewell manor though he doesn't get much control over what he eats anymore

[zannolin]

hey! I don't know if it's okay to ask more than one thing from the end of year questions, but if it is: 1 to 4 please, I'm so curious! also, would you ever consider writing & publishing your own book? I'd be first in line to get a copy!

it absolutely is! :

Song of the year?

yeah this one has to go to "good luck, babe!" i looped that song to DEATH this year. and i still am <3 not to mention it came out on my bday so it's like it was destined for me. however, "last night's mascara" (griff), "against the wind" (bob seger & the silver bullet band), "the call" (regina spektor) and "don't come around here no more" (tom petty & the heartbreakers) are all songs that did not come out this year but absolutely were a big deal to me during it.

2. Album of the year?

i don't think i listened to any that came out this year fully enough to have one from 2024 but just in terms of albums i was obsessed with...sigh. the LWW ost, and midwest princess of course, and maisie peters' you signed up for this.

3. Favorite musical artist / group you started listening to this year?

chappell roan! technically i have the "here before she was cool" card in my roster because it was back in jan but who cares.

4. Movie of the year?

either challengers or i saw the tv glow were the best movies to come out this year (also lisa frankenstein) to me. but honorable mentions to war of the rohirrim (superb) and narnia remains the movies ever.

as for the last one, maybe? like i know i'm majoring in creative writing and all, and i have written full short stories and a lot of poetry, and i hate saying this bc it sounds like i'm bragging but my professors have genuinely told me, all of them, that i should look into publication because they think i'm good enough. butttt. i so rarely have original work ideas, and the more i learn about the publishing industry the less i care to be a part of it, and i think i'm happiest being a hermit who has a day job and posts whatever the heck she wants whenever the heck she wants. theoretically it's not out of the question, but it probably wouldn't be for a long time. if anything it would be short stories or poems first, and i...probably would keep that separate from my account here because i just like being weird little me here lol. but i appreciate your interest it means a lot <3

EOY asks!