#see this is why i’m dangerous when im finishing a fic at night

[soullumii]

if my heart’s gonna break | joel miller x f!reader

part 1 (read part 1 before reading this!)

summary: a couple nights later, you head back to joel’s

warnings: 18+!!!! smut again. unprotected piv. fem!afab!reader. angst again don’t worry i’ll make a happy ending okay

word count: 4k

joel mod in gif is by speclizer (so fucking hot oh my GODDDD)

a/n: finally finished part 2 omg i’m sorry for the wait yall… i’m a perfectionist it’s lowkey debilitating. anyways… i hope u guys enjoy <3 tysm for the support on part 1 and tbh on all my other fics too… i can’t believe ppl like my writing that much. i am very grateful! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

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im scared but if my heart's gonna break before the night will end

i said we're in danger

sleeping with a friend

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

You cant stop thinking about the kiss. 

The kiss that honestly shouldn’t mean so much to you. You’ve kissed him, like, so many times. So many times his tongue has been in your mouth, been in your damn vagina. So why the fuck… why the fuck are you so worked up over this right now?

It’s just…it was so heavy. It felt like…like more than just a kiss. Like he was laying his life down for you, much like he does in patrols. 

He… Joel… he usually never kisses right after sex. He recognizes in the post-coitus energy that things are different. They mean more. He has to know that. So… why now? Does he…?

No. You’re just in your head again. Maybe you’re thinking about it too hard. You’ve never had a friends with benefits situation before now. Maybe this… maybe this is regular.

But for your own psyche, you think you might have to set some ground rules. 

There was always that main rule, that wretched, critical rule. The one you said to him on the first day of your strange exchange.

“Don’t go falling in love with me, cowboy.”

Well, to hell with that one, right? Pretty sure you’ve beaten that shit to death. Shattered all possible remains of it.

So more rules. More rules will have to do. Starting with:

No kissing.

Should be easy enough. 

You’ll figure out the rest later. You have got to stop thinking about it, though, because you’re on the way to his house right now. 

You knock swiftly on the door, and you swear you feel your heart drop into your pussy the moment he opens the door to reveal himself. A plain, black t-shirt is stretched across his broad chest, haphazardly tucked into a pair of plaid pajama pants that hang loosely around his hips. His graying hair is ruffled beyond belief, curling around his ears and falling over his forehead. In your fits of passion and desire a couple nights ago, you hardly realized it had grown longer. It looks nice.

This sleepy and soft Joel is not one you’ve seen in a while. Well, it’s not like you’ve seen him much lately anyway, with him having been gone and all. Still, it’s disorienting. 

“Howdy,” he says.

“Um. Hi.” You try not to gawk. “Did…did I come at a bad time, or something?”

“No, not at all. I just got back from patrols… took a shower,” he says, leaning a shoulder against the door jamb, strong arms crossing over his chest. There’s a tiny, barely perceptible smirk on his lips. “Need somethin’?”

You see it now, the water clinging to his hair, darkening it, beading at his temples like sweat. You follow a line of water trickling down his throat until it disappears behind his collar.

Rule 2: Don’t come over after he’s showered.

“I…uh, I can come back later if you want—“

You’re nervous to ask him what you want to ask him, which is honestly ridiculous considering you guys have been doing this for months now. You used to be able to just knock on his door and he’d pull you in, and it was that easy. Or you’d give him a look when in public, and he knew exactly what you needed.

Now, you’re painfully awkward. Curse him and curse your feelings.

He straightens a bit, his brows furrowing in slight concern. “What’s goin’ on?”

Heat spreads down your neck, embarrassment. Shame. It’s strange, how just a couple nights ago you let him finger you in public, and now you’re afraid to ask him for sex again in his house and for your panties back.

You should honestly just say something like:

I’m here for my underwear.

And you’re positive he’d say:

Want it back? You gotta earn it, sweetheart.

And your knees would buckle and you’d sink down to the carpeted floor in front of his couch and suck him off until he was coming down your throat, stroking back your hair and thumbing his cum on your plush bottom lip.

But instead you’re scowling at him and blurting: “I need a drink.”

How dare he leave you high and dry for three weeks, come back and fuck the shit out of you, make you realize you’re in love with him, and look this good?

God damnit, you need to get your shit together. 

Joel’s eyes widen, surprised only slightly by your outburst, before he backs up to allow you inside his home. When he shuts the door behind you, his hand settles warmly on your lower back as he steers you toward the kitchen.

He immediately beelines for the liquor cabinet and grabs a bottle of red for you. A warm, tingly feeling stirs in your stomach at the fact that he knew you’d want wine. The frustration you’ve been feeling fizzles out. 

“You know me so well.”

He gives you a light smirk, uncorking the bottle. The liquor gurgles as he pours it into a glass. “Think you’d kill me if I didn’t know after all this time.”

You laugh, “Sure, but the real test of friendship is if you knew how I’d kill you.”

“A swift kick to the nuts and then one of my guitars to my head.”

Your eyes widen on a guffaw. “You think I’d damage one of your guitars?”

“You care more about my guitars than my genitals?” 

“Yes. Why would I ever smash one of your guitars?”

He rolls his eyes. “Kill two birds with one stone—my soul and my body. It’s effective. If you needed to kill me, I’d hope it was like that. Now how would I kill you?” 

You hum in consideration. “Trick question. You wouldn’t—no, you couldn’t.”

“You know me so well.” 

His words mirrored back at you so gently, with his brown eyes trained on you intently has the warmth in your belly spreading, making you drop your gaze.

His smirk grows and he hands you the wine glass and reaches for some homemade brandy. You watch the muscles in his arm flex as he pours, sipping daintily while your mind replays thoughts of filth. Of you dragging that arm between your legs, grinding down on it until—

“So, you really only here for a drink?” He asks with a playful lilt, taking a sip of his own beverage and effectively jolting you out of your daydreaming.

You lean against the island, wondering if you should tell him the truth. From the way he’s looking at you, hungrily and heated, like a lion ready to pounce, you’re tempted to.

But…you’re afraid. You can’t stop thinking about The Rule. The one you broke and the ones you just made. You wonder if whatever might happen between you two tonight will unravel them before you can even put them into place.

You look up at him through your lashes, lips pursed around the rim of the glass. “Maybe, maybe not.”

His eyes darken, tongue darting out to lick his lips of sweet fermented wine. His gaze travels up and down your figure, comfortable and breathable in a t-shirt and shorts. Nothing fancy and cute like your sundress from the other night, because today you had to work. But Joel has never minded what you’ve worn, swearing you always look sexy in anything.

Which is something that also makes you question this friends with benefits situation you have here.

He sets his glass down and eases in closer, curling an arm around your waist to pull you into him. “How high’s the chance then?”

“…What do you mean?”

“I mean what’s the probability that you really did only come here for a drink?” he drawls, eyes following your lips as your tongue dips out to wet them. “Or was there another reason?”

The cold tip of his nose brushes along your throat, lips ghosting over your skin. You tremble in his hold. “Odds are in favor of the first option,” you breathe, “ran out of alcohol at my place.”

“And you couldn’t just stop by the Bison? Had to steal from my stores?”

“You know you have the good stuff.”

“You’re lyin’ but I’ll pretend like you ain’t.”

That makes you laugh, and more tumble out of you when one of his hands traces lazily over your stomach, fingers light and delicate and teasing.

“So why d’ya need a drink?”

Because you’re driving me crazy. Because I’m driving myself crazy. Because the universe wants to fuck me over.

You smile and your free hand skates up his muscled back, your fingers brushing along the stretchy fabric of his tee, your voice soft. “Just needed to destress a little. Work has been intense.”

He grins back, presses it into the spanse between your throat and your shoulder, before he lightly scrapes his teeth over it and lays a gentle bite that has you keening into him, pressing your body against his.

“Well, I could help you destress another way too,” he murmurs, palm squeezing the pudgy flesh of your waist, fingers digging lightly into your muscle.

“Mm… yeah?” you hum, your voice a low purr, back arching. Your breasts press into his chest, and Joel makes a sound deep in his throat in agreement.

He presses you into the island, caging you in with his hands on either side of you. He towers over you, a sweatpant clad leg sliding between yours. 

He leans down to kiss you, and a flashing light blares in your mind — NO KISSING — loud and bright and distracting. You turn your head at the last second, his lips landing on your cheek. But Joel doesn’t pull back, doesn’t question you. He just kisses down your cheek, along your jaw, mouthing at you. Sucking your skin to leave little marks that will either fade or be covered by concealer. 

It used to upset you when he left marks because they’re a pain to cover up. Then, you started to like it. You didn’t mind covering up the marks because when you took the makeup off and saw them at the end of the day, all you could think about was him. About the how he made you come. About the words he muttered in your ear. About the feeling of his hands on you—in you. 

Now, you’re starting to grow upset again, but this time it’s because you want to wear them proudly. Want people to know he gets to claim you like this. But… you can’t. But you also don’t want him to stop.

You allow him to continue marking you up, his hand coming up to rest behind your skull, holding you in place. You press your body into his eagerly and with desperate, soft noises that he returns with placating moans.

And then he shifts, and his thigh ruts against your clothed core, and you moan lightly, airily, grinding your hips down against him, searching for any friction. 

His hands curl around the hem of your white tee, and he peels it off your body. One skates behind your back to easily undo the clasp of your bra, and then your breasts are heavy and on display for him. 

Joel stares down at you with heavy eyes. “Christ, you’re beautiful.”

Longing claws at your chest, and you look up at him coyly, your lip caught between your teeth. Joel groans like he’s in pain, and squeezes along the underside of one of your breasts before leaning down to close his mouth over the nipple while his other hand gives attention to the other, squeezing and pinching. Your hands find purchase in his damp hair as low moans tumble from your lips. 

When he’s deemed one nipple adequately appreciated, he moves onto the next. Licking, revering, his dark eyes peering up at you while his peppered hair is fisted in your hands. The sight has slick arousal pooling in your underwear.

Eventually he pulls back and his hands clamp down on your hips. He guides you along the muscle of his thigh, your clit pulsing at the contact. 

“Want you to come on my thigh, baby.” His voice is a ragged slur of words against your ear, warm and paired with a kiss to your cartilage. 

“Fuck…yes, Joel,” you whimper, sparks flying through your nerves with each roll of your hips.

His fingers grip your chin, tilting your head so you have no choice but to keep eye contact with him as you rut against his thigh. He’s grinning, eyes heavy lidded and deep, dark like wet tar. They suck you in as if they were quicksand.

You’d let him drag you under a million times over. 

Your best friend.

“Joel,” you moan, feeling yourself grow close. Standing at the cliff's edge. His eyes bore into yours, his grin slipping as he focuses on you. Focuses on making you shatter atop him.

“Come on, baby. You can do it. You can come,” he says encouragingly,  fingers stroking the skin of your hip. You feel tears prick your eyes as the waves crash, spreading from your throbbing clit along your muscles. Filling you with warmth, stronger and deeper than the buzz from the wine.

“Good job,” he praises gently. “Did so good.”

“Shut up,” you huff.

He laughs, and despite yourself, heat floods your body, throbs between your thighs. His words caress a deep, carnal animal inside of you, and the hunger takes over.

You frantically pull at his shirt until he has to tell you to slow down, and takes it off himself. Your hands run along his chest and stomach the moment they’re able to and down to the waistband of his sweats. You palm his hardening cock through the soft, gray fabric. Joel groans deep and heavy, his lashes fluttering as he stares you down. His hips thrust into your palm automatically. Involuntarily. 

God, that makes you light up like a firefly. Makes your nerves sing and your cunt flutter and your mind go numb.

He tugs down your shorts and underwear and sets you on top of the granite, but before he can strip the underwear from your ankle to no doubt pocket this pair like he did the other, you flick it off your foot across the kitchen. It lands somewhere near the door to the dining room.

He can’t steal all your underwear, or you’ll have none left.

“I wanted those,” he drawls, expression on the edge of a pout.

“Yeah, well I need them. It’s not common to come across a good pair of panties in this world.” 

“But I’d give ‘em back.” He’s full on pouting now. It is, unfortunately, very cute, but you’re used to it.

“Sure… like the pair you took from me the other night that I have yet to receive.” 

“How else am I supposed to get you to come over?” 

“I dunno? Maybe ask?”

“Should I leave a note on your door? Is that good enough for you?”

“At least be classy. A letter delivered in my mailbox with a wax stamp, please.” 

He laughs. “As you wish, Princess.”

He finally peels off his sweatpants, free of underwear beneath them, and you watch with barely concealed hunger as his cock springs free. 

And while you like the idea of him fucking you on the counter, you’d much rather him fuck you against the counter, so you hop down and turn so your back faces him. Your hands curl around the granite lip of the counter top, and you push your ass out and back, peering at him over your shoulder.

This way, it’s easier for him not to kiss you. Easier for you to turn your head and deny your lips to him. 

“Look at you…” Joel hums appreciatively at your show, at the wiggle of your hips as his palm smooths down your back and over your ass, squeezing at the plump flesh. 

You moan quietly, and Joel’s eyes darken, watching you intently like you’re the only thing in the room. 

His fingers drift down to your cunt and your slickness coats his fingers fully. You’re so wet for him. So ready for him to bury himself inside you and call you his.

It’s funny, you’ve lost all your heat from a few nights ago. All your sharp edged words. Now, you’re soft and pliant.

He swirls his soaked index and middle fingers along your clit, punctuating your sensitivity, before sliding them back inside you to the knuckle. You keen and push back, desperate for more. His fingers are so much longer than yours, thicker, and yet you crave more.

“That’s it, Joel,” you huff. “Fuck, feels so good. Need more.”

“Yeah? Tell me what you need, baby girl.”

Shame lights your cheeks, but you push down the embarrassment. “Need…need your cock inside me.”

He lays a kiss on your neck. “Still a bit desperate aren’t we?”

“You’re the desperate one, Mr. Panty Stealer. You’re a fucking creep.”

He chuckles against your neck, but he squeezes your ass in retaliation. “Be nice, would you?”

“You like it when I’m mean.”

“Wanna see how much I like it?”

“If you’re willing to show me and get on with this, sure.”

He huffs in amused frustration. “God, you’re annoyin’.”

You just smile innocently at him.

Your legs tremble, slick running down your thighs when Joel pulls his fingers out. He replaces them with the hardness of his cock, of which he runs along your wetness, readying himself.

“I think ‘bout you way too much,” he says into your back, pressing a gentle kiss there. “D’ya think ‘bout me too?”

It’s an odd question. One you’re not expecting. One that has your heart stuttering in quiet confusion from this sudden switch in tone.

“Of course I do.” Obviously. You told him as much. Three weeks. Three weeks you thought about him.

“Good… wanna be the only thing on your mind.”

A high pitched keen hisses through your teeth as Joel eases himself inside you with a long, slow stroke and a low moan. Your fingers white knuckle the countertop, gripping it tightly.

He presses in close, burying himself all the way in before he withdraws slowly, his cock sliding inside you torturously. 

“Joel,” you moan.

“I know, baby.” He presses kisses to your shoulders. 

Joel’s hand gravitates to the back of your knee, and he slowly pushes up to lift your leg until your knee is resting on the counter. 

And then… with this new angle…he starts fucking you in earnest.

His hips snap against your ass, the sound deafening in the kitchen, and you crumple against the granite with a moan.

“Shit,” Joel grunts. “Yeah.”

Each of his heavy thrusts punches the air from your lungs, and your fingers slip on the countertop, scrabbling for purchase every chance you can get. He’s hot, thick inside you, warm as he folds over you, his hand on your tummy holding you upright, the other keeping your leg up to continue hitting you at that pleasant, delicious angle.

“H-holy shit—oh—“

He breathes heavily at your neck, low grunts and moans escaping his lips from his efforts. “Could spend eternity inside you, darlin’. Fuck, you’re mine.”

Your heart stutters, the words uttered in a lust filled craze, likely meaning nothing. But to your traitorous brain, to the hope lingering in your chest like a persistent cough, they mean everything. 

“All…” you’re losing your train of thought, fucked into blissful nothingness. “All yours, Joel.” 

It’s too difficult for him to kiss you from this angle, which you’re relieved about. But a part of you longs for it, longs for the feel of his mouth moving against yours. 

Joel’s strong arm wraps around your chest, and pulls you up so you’re flush against his back as he pounds up and into you. Keens and whimpers and breathless pants escape you with every thrust.

“Please, Joel,” you cry, tears pricking at the edges of your swirling vision.

“What, baby?” He huffs. “Need’a come?”

You nod crazily. “Yes—need to—“

“Shhh okay… I’ve got you,” he murmurs gently, the hand wrapped around your tummy inching down to circle at your clit steadily.

Your legs buckle beneath you but Joel keeps you upright as the pleasure soars through you, sudden and strong. He strokes you through it, groaning praises into your ear before he comes inside you a moment later. 

The two of you hiss in tandem when he pulls out, but he smothers it when he lays his mouth over yours. You’re hardly coherent enough to remember your rule, and for a moment you let him kiss you. You kiss him back, chasing the heat of his mouth with your own, moaning against his lips when his tongue dips into your mouth. 

Then, you remember.

You pull back panting, cheeks a flame, “Joel.”

“Hm?” He murmurs, dragging his lips down your jaw before moving back up to pull you into another kiss. You move away before he can. His brows furrow in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t… I don’t think we should kiss anymore.”

He blinks. “What? Why?”

Your eyes flit across the kitchen, catching on labeled jars and wooden spoons and spices, anything but his own. “It’s too intimate.” 

It’s a lame excuse. Joel sees through it immediately.

“And my cock inside you ain’t?”

You sigh heavily, avoiding eye contact. “It’s different.”

“How? Enlighten me.” His tone has gone rougher. Hurt swirls in his eyes, and you feel worse than you did the other night.

Because you and I are friends. Because I don’t think I can pretend like that’s the truth when all I want is to call you mine. Because when I kiss you it’s like my world finally starts to make sense. 

“Please, Joel. Just…I don’t want to do it anymore. Can you respect that, please?”

He runs a hand down his beard, his hurt expression hardening into a stoic one you haven’t been on the receiving end of in years. Fuck. “Alright, I’m sorry. I won’t kiss you anymore.”

You expect relief but all that comes is a deep longing and sadness that you try to push to the depths of your conscience. Though, like a buoy, it keeps popping above the surface. 

“Thanks,” you say quietly.

The cleanup is awkward. He watches you silently as you pick up your underwear and slide them and your shorts back on. He seems far away, here and gone all at once. It makes you worry, makes you wonder if what you just said was the biggest mistake of your life.

But you have to do this. You have to hold him at arm's length because if you admit to him…if you tell him how you really feel… maybe he really will leave you. He’ll realize you’ve gone and fucked everything up, and the friendship you’ve kindled, the trust you’ve built, will all be for nothing.

You can’t lose him, even if it means you can’t keep him close.

“Thanks for tonight,” you say eventually, when he’s walking you out the front door.

He smiles at you, faint and untrue. It’s like the one from the other night. Like that laugh he forced out for you. You feel like a Joel from the past has teleported to the present, with his thin smile and his hard eyes. “Yeah, of course.”

“You okay?”

Joel frowns, shifts on his feet. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I dunno. You just seem… I don’t know. Never mind.”

“I’m good.” 

“You sure?”

He nods. “You need me to walk you home?”

“No, I’ll be okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you hum. A moth circles the porch light. The two of you stare at each other for a long moment. He looks as if he wants to say something, but thinks better of it.

“Okay,” is all that he says. 

“Okay,” you repeat, feeling empty. A waif, a lonely white flag waving in the wind. “Um, I’ll see you later, then.”

“Yeah, sounds good. Night, darlin’,” he says, squeezing your arm, like he’s trying to be normal. It doesn’t work. His hand is cold. “Sweet dreams.”

“Night, Joel.”

It’s raining by the time you reach your house, and you curl under your blankets after a shower, your hair cold and wet against your scalp, listening to the droplets splattering against your window.

Sleep doesn’t come easy.

part 3

[formulapookie]

soo i’m writing a marcmarc fanfiction and Im going to make it multi chapter, it’s going to explore a bit Bez’s internalised homophobia and his path towards the light (fucking with Marc)

and i’m going to upload it both here and on Ao3, if you like it i’d love for you to leave kudos, no pressure tho obv <3

I took a bit of inspiration by @anitalianfrie and some ideas from @yeastinfectionvale because the two of you are the most dangerous marcmarc psychosexual supporters I relate with

Below you can find the fic, if u enjoy reading on Tumblr more than on Ao3❤️

2024 pre-season

It was cold, but still, Marco was sitting outside the ranch, it was around 3 in the morning he supposed, thoughts clouded by the joint he was still finishing up.

He was trying to reflect on something that had been seriously affecting his life lately, or rather much someone.

Marc Marquez.

Since he had signed with Gresini the Spaniard just seemed to continuously pop up into his life, whether it was on track or not, like last week for example, he was out with a group of his friends and who did he meet at the club he went to? Marc Marquez, drinking with a guy he thought was a friend of the man, but the more he thought about it, the more he remembered strange details, like a hand lingering a bit too much or a few glances casted in a very lustful way.

He archived the memory as a made up one, a result of the not so little amount of alcohol he consumed that night.

Plus, Marc had a girlfriend, and even if he didn't, everyone on the grid was straight.

All the jokes, flirty ones even, were always platonic and between friends, he did that too with Pecco, and it wasn’t like he was…gay.

He had had a girlfriend until a few weeks prior, when she decided it would’ve been a good idea to cheat on him and dump him via text of all things.

The joint was coming to an end, and with it all his will to stay outside and freeze, looking for a warm blanket and a snack instead.

Memories grew along with his hunger, and the frames of his mind ran back to the night he saw Marquez at the club.

Shirt buttoned just halfway, a silver necklace adorning his neck and bouncing slightly every time he moved.

His smile, a painfully magnetic one, drawing people to him like moths to a flame, like his eyes, profound and deep.

But what Bez remembered the best were his shoulders.

Broad, muscled, tanned and glowing with sweat, moving up and down rhythmically when he laughed.

If he focused enough, he could remember peeking the outline of one of Marc’s scars from the hem of his shirt, and something similar to a hickey on the juncture between his neck and shoulder, sinfully on display.

Fuck, why did he remember those things? He was pretty sure that a blonde flirted with him that night, he was sure she was hot even, but he couldn’t remember a single detail from her, just from that small fucking bastard

As his mind stopped wandering Bez realized he was back into his room, an half finished protein bar in hand and an obviously painful bulge in his pants.

Fuckfuckfuckfuck how did that happen? was it the blonde? it couldn’t have been Marquez, could it?

The answer came when his dick twitched at the mention of Marc’s name.

cazzo

He was conflicted: should he let it go away on its own or act on it? because he knew the moment he would’ve touched himself thinking of his rival it would’ve been over for him.

Seeing him in the paddock, on insta or at one of the clubs would’ve meant remembering this.

No no no he hated Marquez, this was just the smoke speaking for him, he always got a bit horny after smoking, it wasn’t different from other times.

Except it was. It was so much different, this longing he felt for the older guy, the need he had to just lick his lips and bite down on those delicious looking shoulders, grabbing his neck and crushing their lips together.

Bez also remembered the cologne he was wearing; it smelled like woods and fresh, he didn’t know much about perfumes but that was surely a smell he wasn’t going to forget it easily.

“Maybe it’s not that bad. Just once, one time and then I’ll forget about him”

he thought while sliding into bed and slowly slipping his hand into his pants.

It was embarrassing how quickly he became vocal about it, softly of course because he didn’t want the other guys or worst, Vale, to hear him moan out Marc Marquez’s name and finding him like that.

He stroked his cock with growing speed, twisting his wrist when he came close to the tip, gritting his teeth and grabbing the sheets with his free hand.

“Marc-“ a suffocated plea leaving the boy's mouth, but remaining painfully present in his room, floating around as a curse.

The more he thought about the Spaniard the harder he got, he wanted more more more.

He wanted Marc, in all his stupid perfection, he wanted him to choke on his cock, or bouncing on it, he wanted Marc to be as desperate for him as Bez was for the man.

“Si si si” a trail of words left the boy’s mouth to get lost into the silent and cold night in Tavullia, alongside with Marco’s orgasm, which hit him hard and fast, ropes of white liquid staining his abdomen and part of the sheets.

He went to the bathroom to wash his hands and getting cleaned up, being extra careful not to wake anyone up.

He looked at himself in the mirror, cheeks red, puffy lips and glassy eyes, pupils still blown wide from the smoke and the excitement of the recent jerk off session.

He knows he will have to face what he just did, because what if it wasn’t just Marc? What if it was men in general? Could have he been bisexual? To be fair he was a bit scared to know, what if Vale or one of the guys found it disgusting? what if his family did?

Could’ve he kept that secret for long?

He doesn’t think so, honestly he’s scared of loosing both families at once for something like that.

No no, he ultimately decided.

If he understands he likes guys he’s going to keep it for himself.

It’s going to be better for everyone that way

[asexualzoro]

it's december 9th, meaning today is my 23rd birthday (which is my favorite number!), which means it's time for...

Lew Writes Wrapped 2023!!!

im including anything that happened after my last bday, so we have some works from december as well. this one's a bit of a weird one for the total word count, you'll see why

it's all treebark from my sideblog / alt ao3. i cannot change. i will not change. for these im just gonna specify the relationship that's the main focus bc thats easier than fandom bc all but like one are third life

dandelion wishing

(Dec, 2.4k, treebark, oneshot) (link)

op movie 6 au for dogwarts in which Martyn is the baron and Ren doesn't know he's dead

id actually plotted out a whole third life au for this movie like months prior and really wanted to write it, so i took it for treebark week and focused it just on these two. it's my fave movie of all time and i obvs had to give it to my fave completely dead team <3

i will admit tho. it did make me back search martyns twitter to see if hes ever posted abt watching this movie. bc i know he likes One Piece and i realized this would bring me into the danger zone (he hasnt ever posted abt it if hes seen it)

A Romance Route for the Doomed Villain?!?

(Dec, 5k, treebark, oneshot) (link)

treebark dating sim isekai parody that spiraled out of my control made in a day-long possession

im still baffled by this one. why was the response to this one so insane?? there was smth in the water the day i posted this bro. a 1:2 kudos to hits ratio for the entire first day is literally fucking unbelievable. 70 comments?? what hold did this fic have on you people. i got fic written about this one?? my friends goncharov'd me in front of my face

really fucking fun to write and the insane response was smth im always gonna remember. i appreciate you guys so much

treesekai also turns a year old in a few days!

Until the Angels Realize You're Not One of Them

(Feb, 7.2k, emerald duo, oneshot) (link)

a traitor phil au which was mostly just me talking about all the reasons i love technoblade

this one... wasnt actually written this year for the most part? i didnt want to not acknowledge it, since it's on my ao3 in this year, but i wont be able to count it toward the total

still. traitor phil au my beloved. hearing him say on his stream he and techno wanted to do a betrayal arc made me feel insane bc i already had this written at the time

missing or obstructed

(2022-present, 12.9k, Grian & Ren, ongoing) (link)

post 3L fic about Ren and Grian seeking out closure with a lot of funny little sleep metaphors

same deal as the last fic, i, uh dont think i actually wrote anything new for missing or obstructed this year either? just uploaded chapters i wrote last year,,, i didnt wanna now acknowledge it, but i wont count this in my total later

i miss her. one day ill actually sit down and write more missing or obstructed. in my doc im JUST at introducing Martyn and i havent written it yet

to reach my mangled debut

(Sept, 4.2k, treebark week, ongoing) (link)

it wouldnt be me if i didnt have an execution somewhere in here. another op au!

THIS. I LOVE HER. when rev and i were plotting out the whole storyline for smop renchanting i was begging please give me this scene i need it and i had so much fun writing it. i rlly need to finish soon but i haven’t had time but please. please check out smop. she’s top of my priority list to update

Three-Dog Night

(Sept, 6.7k, treebark week, oneshot) (link)

BIG DOG. beauty and the beast au!

god im so fond of this au. there’s some rlly good scenes written for this and unposted bc i just need to link them together. honestly i think if i took a month and focused it on this fic alone i could fucking finish it but i don’t have the time ;-;

that said i’m so enamored w this au genuinely. o dunno what else to say i just think. puppy

Cover Me In Roses

(Sept, 3.3k, treebark week, oneshot) (link)

lamplight roleswap! put Martyn in a flower pot

i don’t feel as motivated to work on this one when i have lamplight unfinished so it’s lower on my priorities but know i have like an entire arc of this written and unposted. we just have a few paths for this one and i have to decide which one to use

it’s so wild to me lamplight has like. aus. like this isn’t even the only one? a roleswap. that’s insane? it’s wild that you all like lamplight enough i can even get away with this

First Sign of a House Fire

(Sept, 2k, treebark week, oneshot) (link)

i love superhero stories for two reasons: plots about secrets and adapting the characters to give them powers. this had smth fun for both of them

yellow rose isn’t super high on my list of priorities to update (i think the oneshot is interesting on its own) but one day,,,, it’s part of the many aus cherri and i have but it’s the longest for sure. the doc for just this au is like 100k words long on its own. at the time i draft this cherri and i are actively writing smth else for it in another tab. theres like 4 offshoots and im obsessed w all of them. we had to make ocs about this one. i’m excited to eventually add more to this series

actually that’s one of the scenes i’m most excited for and most dreading adding. we made a backstory oc and im SO attached to him and im excited to post a thing out there w him but. ough. whatever cringe is dead i’ll get there eventually and brute force my way into attaching you to our funky little robot guy

also love that this fic forced me to be decided on a docv characterization that i have to stick to. he may be a canon guy to martyn’s vtuber lore but he’s my oc now too

Blindsided

(Sept, 2k, treebark week, ongoing) (link)

pirate au and royal au based on a big secret and also stuffing a guy in a box and it's all stupid dramatic literally what else do you want or need in life

this is my wife. my favorite. my most beloved. blindsided gives me new illnesses and diseases. i have just one scene to write before i can update it and then i can continue unleashing her. god i love this fic the drama of it is SO fun.

the funny thing abt blindsided is i know all the plot chronologically but now how to Present it which is part of why i haven’t continued too much. eventually i will but until then know that one of the scenes im sitting on which has been fully written is one i think about constantly. hopefully when i post it cherri’ll let free the comic she did for it

i actually have the ending of this fic written i just need to get there lmfao. second on my priority list after smop i think

Cradle of the Leviathan

(Sept, 1.5k, treebark week, oneshot) (link)

i just love mer aus man. whats the point of it all if you cant have mer aus. just get a big ol fish

i have the ending of this au written as well and literally so little of the lead up. but this is pretty low on my priorities. i think this one stands just fine on its own. mer aus are nice like that

we actually have a few mer aus but for now i’ll be focusing on this one. i do have a few sweet post story things written for this one. maybe one day i’ll write enough to post em lmao

Lamplight AU

(2022-present, 47k, treebark, ongoing) (link)

renchanting dnd/fantasy au, martyn's a paladin and ren's a lamp

so i started this au last year. my wrapped last year said my total was 20k, so that means this year's total is.... 27k!

and… it was just lamplight’s birthday and i did all my appreciation for the fic and its readers then, but god. i love this fic so much and i love you all who have read it and been so kind about it. the amount of popularity it has makes it a bit nerve wracking to work on, but i still really want to see it finished. i hope to see the bulk of it done by this time next year!

Six Sentence Sunday

six sentence sunday is a challenge where i try to post six sentences i wrote that week every sunday, to keep me writing every week of the year! i do it over on my writing blog, @driflew

i did not keep up on my six sentences,,, i had a lot of sunday fencing tournaments. i did for ~33 weeks this year! thats a pretty good amount! i’ll have to be more on top of it next year tho

unpublished work

the last few years i havent included unpublished work, but with the extreme bulk of it, i wanted to note it down. cherri @/cherrifire and i have been writing a lot back and forth at each other in discord dms this year, and i wanted to include those in my count! bc holy fucking shit is there a lot of them

i didn’t include collab pieces, just pieces i wrote alone. i also only included the renchanting aus i share w cherri and scarian aus i share w flowey, nothing else—no unfinished lamplight or other independent pieces or oneshots, no original fiction for class, nothing. i also missed a few u haven’t moved to docs yet. so i’m lowballing by a few. thousands. of words

the total for those is...... 135k words! there is,,, something wrong with me

total and end notes

our total this year is...

187512 words!

that might be my highest word count yet! because i caught treebark disease. wild.

something really fun about this year to me is i really loved everything i wrote.

if you want to get me a gift or support me on my birthday… maybe try reading my work and reblogging it or leaving a comment! you can find my writing at driflew or skelew on ao3, follow my writing blog at @driflew, or even consider tipping my kofi!

thank you for sticking with me and supporting me this year! i really appreciate it! hopefully i can break 100k next year too!

[sunshinereddie]

stay calm

so i haven’t quite finished my ACTUAL fic for day 5 of reddie week yet (it might not be ready until tmrw, unfortunately) so i’m deciding to share some snippets from another crossover idea i had…

reddie x five nights at freddy’s!!

im aware that this is a pretty niche crossover but it’s one of my favourites, so i hope you enjoy this small snippet! 🐻🐰🐤🦊

1,726 words. cw: blood and child death mention.

@reddieweek Day 5 Prompt: Books/Games/Movies/TV!

read under the cut!

“Hey,” Richie says, dropping his headphones to dangle around his neck. “Did you know that a kid died here once?” Richie bites down on his bottom lip to try and hide his smile when he sees Eddie’s shoulders stiffen and his hand freeze as he toggles through the different cameras.

“Yeah right,” Eddie finally says, but Richie can see right through the false confidence he’s trying to put on.

“I’m serious,” Richie presses, rolling his chair over to the cameras, leaning close to Eddie. Eddie flinches at the harsh squeaking of the chair’s wheels and the sudden appearance of Richie at his side. Richie grins at the sight of Eddie’s pale face and his wide, worrying eyes before he continues. “Back in ‘87, there was a birthday party going on here. Apparently, the little birthday boy just loved one of the animatronics and wanted to give it a hug, but kids aren’t allowed on the stage. The employees told him it was dangerous, but the kid thought, what could be so dangerous about them? So, when none of the staff were looking, the kid climbed up onto the stage and tried to start playing with one of the animatronics, the fox one. He must have pushed a button or yanked the machine the wrong way or something, because next thing he knew…” Richie jumps forward in his seat and slams his hand down on the desk, the harsh clap cutting through the silence of the office and making Eddie recoil back in surprise. “The fox freaked out and bit the kid’s arm clean off. Apparently there was blood everywhere- he bled out before the ambulance even arrived.”

Richie leans in closer towards Eddie, waiting to get a reaction from him. When Richie finishes telling his story, Eddie looks like he’s about five seconds away from pissing his pants. Richie tries his best to hold in a laugh as he watches the story sink into Eddie’s mind, the images Richie planted into his head haunting him.

“You’re full of it,” Eddie says eventually, rolling himself back over to the desk. “Stop making shit up.”

“I’m not!” Richie defends. “It’s true. I went to middle school with the kid’s older brother. He told me all about it.”

“Well, then he was a liar,” Eddie says firmly, some of the shakiness disappearing from his voice. Richie isn’t sure if Eddie is trying to diminish Richie’s story, or comfort himself.

Richie shrugs, leaning back in his chair. “He wasn’t. That’s why they keep the fox off the main stage nowadays.” Richie reaches over to the camera panel and switches the monitor from the main stage to the camera titled “Pirate’s Cove”, which displays a fuzzy image of a small stage closed off with a curtain and a sign attached to the stage reading, Sorry! Out of Order. “They weren’t sure why it bit the kid in the first place, so they couldn’t repair it so it wouldn’t do it again. And, apparently there was so much blood that they couldn’t get it out of the suit.”

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you it’s not nice to tell lies?” Eddie says, switching the camera from Pirate’s Cove back to the Main Stage.

“Oh, she did,” Richie replies. “She also told me never to come back to Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza, because they say that the ghost of the boy who died still haunts the place to this day…” His hand sneaks around the back of Eddie’s chair, then grabs the collar of Eddie’s shirt. Eddie practically jumps out of his seat, letting out a string of curses as he smacks Richie’s hand away.

“Asshole!” he says, grabbing a ball of crumpled paper from the desk and launching it at Richie’s face. Richie also nearly falls from his seat, but in his case, it’s because he’s howling with laughter at Eddie’s reaction. Richie didn’t mean to really scare the poor guy, just to poke fun at his nerves, but he couldn’t help himself. Besides, Richie thought it was kind of cute, the way Eddie’s cheeks and ears flushed bright red as he attempted to regain his composure.

“Oh, man, that was good,” Richie says, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye. “I haven’t laughed that hard in a long time.”

Eddie grumbles something that Richie couldn’t quite hear, though he could assume the general idea from Eddie’s tone. Richie wheels himself back over to his side of the desk, lifting his headphones back onto his ears and pressing play on his Walkman. He glances over to the clock on the wall- it’s 1:37am. The night had been going by painfully slow, but at least that amused him for a little chunk of time. And hey, Richie thinks to himself as he reassumes his position of resting his feet up against the desk and leaning back in his chair, at least if I start to get bored, I know a way to entertain myself.

Eddie, on the other hand, was not as impressed by Richie’s idea of “entertainment.” It took a few minutes for his heart to slow back down to a normal pace, with Eddie glancing over to the side every once in a while to make sure Richie wasn’t getting up to anything else.

Eddie doesn’t believe a word that Richie said. What kind of a business would keep things open and running if a kid was brutally killed in their restaurant? And they would especially never keep the animatronic that did it. There was no way. But still… Eddie shivers at the image that his over-active imagination created in his head, of the scene- the false scene- that Richie has described.

Eddie also does not believe in ghosts. Out of all the things that Richie said to try and scare him, the idea of the ghost of this child haunting the restaurant is the most ridiculous. It was just a silly ghost story, one that Eddie is much too old to be getting scared of. But still… Eddie had to admit, there is something haunting about the animatronics, as he stares at them on stage through the camera. He knows that they are supposed to be fun and exciting for the kids, but Eddie wonders how anyone could enjoy a party run by those things. The rabbit one isn’t that bad- it looks dirty and its jaw hangs at a weird, broken angle that makes Eddie wonder how it got like that. The bird, sitting on the far end of the stage isn’t much worse, but it also isn’t any better. Its beak is full of teeth that Eddie thinks are just a bit too sharp for the mascot of a children’s restaurant, and it wore a bib around its neck displaying the words LET'S EAT, but the words are faded and hard to read underneath several dark, splattered stains on the white fabric. But the worst had to be the bear, Freddy, the face of the business. It's not that Freddy is necessarily scary, but Eddie finds it hard to not get creeped out by those eyes staring back at the camera, eyes that seem a bit too humanlike-

Eddie freezes.

Wait a minute.

Had the bear always been looking into the camera? The rabbit and the chicken are staring out to the room, their metal eyelids shut, and Eddie could have sworn that the bear had been in the exact same position. But even through the static of the camera and the darkness of the dimly-lit building, there was no mistaking it- Freddy is staring at the camera. Staring at him. Eddie tells himself he must have just not been paying attention before, that Freddy had always been looking towards the camera, and Eddie only just noticed now because he was actually looking at them, not just scanning over the pictures of each camera. Yes, that was it.

Eddie stares at Freddy. Freddy stares back. His eyes are open wide, so much so that Eddie can see most of the white of the white ball in the sockets, with the black pupils painted on directly in the center. He knows that they’re nothing more than plastic balls painted to look like eyes, and yet… something about it still makes Eddie feel unsettled. He knows that they’re nothing more than plastic eyes in an animatronic suit, but it still feels like they’re… watching him. It still feels like they can see him.

Eddie starts to turn to Richie to ask if he could remember if Freddy had always been looking to the camera or not, but he quickly catches himself before the words can make it out of his mouth. Surely if Eddie asks a question like that, Richie would make fun of him for the rest of the night. Eddie can already feel the embarrassment burning his cheeks as he imagines Richie’s teasing, “Wait, don’t tell me you actually got scared from that story! Oh man, I really got you!” Eddie shakes his head and lets out a grumbled sigh, unheard by Richie through his blaring music. As much as Eddie would have hated to hear Richie say it, he knows Richie would have been right. Why is he getting so worked up about it? The animatronics don’t move, he was just letting Richie’s stupid story fill his head with an even more stupid idea, and causing himself to uncessarily worry. Eddie is sure he must have just not noticed where Freddy was looking until he started paying attention to it. Eddie turns back to the cameras, ready to switch off from the Show Stage to do another check of the building.

Freddy isn’t looking at the camera.

Freddy, now perfectly in position with the rabbit and the bird on either side of him, is facing the room in front of him, leaving Eddie to stare in shock at the side of his head. Eddie leans forward, getting as close to the monitor as he can to make sure that yes, he’s seeing things right, that yes, Freddy is not looking directly into the camera, he’s looking out in front of him, in fact he’s not looking at all, because his metal eyelids are shut. It almost looks like he’s sleeping.

As Eddie looks at the camera, there’s only one thought in his mind.

What the fuck?

[makahimetenshi]

Follow me inside the wastelands - Chapter 13  -Arthur Maxson x Female Sole Survivor Fanfic

This one will be a long fic with a lot of chapters, I already write the concepts. Since I don’t play as Nora in Fallout 4 because Nate for me is the real protagonist the personalities and ideas are pretty fanbased from another fanfics I read

If you are very very very delighted with one fic and want a continuation I didn’t write or post you can donate me at least $5 bucks, most of this fics have next chapters I don’t finish because lack of motivation but hey a $5 is a $5, I see a few reviews and coments that fics that are abandoned months laters receive coments of wanting to know what happends next. Here it is, I finished my handling with you all, enjoy the fic

By night Arthur came back and the first thing he did was surprise her with a chap kiss on the cheek, Nora looked at him confused but he had a very bright smile on his face.

-I prepared a feast for us tonight, when they knock at the door hide in my room until i tell u okay?

-Feast? what are we celebrating?

-Your plan is going smooth, i had the confirmation from Preston that the men arrived at place and the supplies are on their way -Nora smiled a bit and show him a sketch of how the fencing should go in the map around the beaches -did you go there?

-Not yet, tomorrow ill arrive for the first time

-Be careful to fight the mierluks during the day, if theres fog cancel the operation and try another day, remember that mierluk queens love fog to hide, use the day to settle in the buildings but do not start combat -he nodded and hug her from behind, looking at the letters written on a side of the table.

-Why you don't use holotapes?

-Im used to have my pipboy but not everybody has one, terminals are not always powered and i been told i have a very special calligraphy

-You are using something that’s called italics

-Correct

-Not many knows how to read that, but i must admit is like a signature writing of you right now 

-Macready had his reasons to act like that, why do you wanna go down there?

-Don’t you believe me capable?

-I didnt say that, is just that you have the paladins to act on your orders

-Does Preston or this mercenary knows anything about us?

-Not exactly, i didnt explain much

-I believe that if you make me close to you in their eyes, they will trust me more -Nora turned her head to look at him, that was certainly unexpected.

-Do you want to have a relationship with the minutemen?

-We kinda often work together thanks to you

-I believe you can justify that they were people and citizens of the Commonwealth the Brotherhood of Steel was helping

-Yes but this level of organization is going beyond of simple farmers organized, your group grow up good and we are getting involved often

-And you want to be around?

-I can be, despite whenever i want to do it or not, if im needed ill be there, you in the middle or not -he didn't want to tell her the real reason, that he prefer to be there to not put her on risk because that will surely cause a fight.

-I trust you to come back sane and sound -she said and give him a chap kiss on the cheek, surprising him who hugged her stronger

If she cameback for him, he will do it too despite how dangerous the situation turned out tomorrow.

There was a knock on the door, and both separated, she went to the room and Arthur recieved the people who went inside to settle the dinner.

The only thing that Nora will eat as homemade food were soups, stating that the only way she can eat non radiated made in this century food was blinfolded, since everything looked awful and non desirable. Arthur hated that, he hated not being able to make her live more comfortable, it wasn't a good life not being able to eat

-You know i'm asking recipes to the scribes so i can give directions to the cookers right? you are making it very hard

-One time i ended up eating human meat -a cold shiver run through Arthur spine at hearing that -have you ever seen bacon before? well it looked like it, tasted good, crispy, no radiation, find out later that it was human, i didn't have the courage to eat anything again in that place, but did not have the forces to keep moving after not doing it for three days. Well at least i know iguanas existed back in my days

Arthur shut his damn mouth, if she find out about the geckos she would die of starvation...

-Do you dare to explain me why the mercenary had such...

-Weird attitudes? -he nodded, eating his bramin meat, cutting it into pieces- he is not really a minutemen, he is a mercenary hired by me, right now he is at Sanctuary with his son Duncan

-That doesnt say much

-I saved Duncan lifes by finding the cure to his mole rat disease, we wenttrought  a lot to find that medicine and he bring up the kid here after he was cured and safe to travel -she take sip on her soup

-So he is in debt with you

-And hit on me once if you are actually asking that yes -the man pressed his lips and puush the attention away eating his steak- but i dodged it, i was into someone else by that time, a long way has passed since

Huh a hint of Noras love life, that was unexpected, but if she said that was a long time ago so he didn’t mind.

Her gaze turned dark and she sip onto her Nuka-Cola. She was into someonelse, almost two years ago, before destroying the institute.

And she was sleeping with his killer.

No, she was the killer, the one that execute him.

-Is something wrong? -Nora snapped at soon she was approatched, she shake her head and pick up the salt to use it over her food. 

-No, i just chew something weird and was trying to figure out what it was

He knew she was lying, it was common for him finding her zooning out, she had a lot of demons inside.

-If you are giving him a house and food, he should be more respectful -he said drinking some Nuka-Cola too

-Leave him, he is almost as young as you are and have a thought life

-Thats not excuse

-He doesn't own me loyalty, he is a mercenary, ill respect that boundary, end of the story -and by finishing that conversation, she keep eating her soup

Altought Arthur understand that she wasn’t commanding soldiers with training and a mindset to fulfill orders, he was worried that her relationships were so...volatile. Still, great job organizing civilians at least, she standed up the most it was possible with revels and starving people and they achieved great things, recognized her strength and how ferocious she was.

After the dinner and plates were out, the man came into the room with...some expectations actually, and they were well readed, Nora flipped him onto the bed and she sat over his pants, unbuttoning the dress he had now forbidden to touch since the last time he went to exited break some buttons. It was a long way down and he cant keep his hands still on place, so they were moving all up on down over her ass, loving the shape and the feel under his fingers.

-Fuck me like there’s no tomorrow, general -gosh he wanted to say that all day, he wished to be ridded and commanded by this strong woman. He did it with her before, now it was his turn to summit.

She laughed and hummed, the buttons were all open but she still covered her chest closing it around

-There will be a tomorrow, but you gotta fight for the reward -out of nothing, she step onto her knees and moved foward, Arthurs heart stopped when she as bold as always sat  her crotch over his chin, he saw her lick her lips and smile, still covering her chest, his arms and shoulders covered by the skirt of the dress- over heat and undress me, win the view, come on

He gasped and say nothing, just grabbed her ass to bring her closer and manage her weight on his face, starting to lick and suck over the warm pantys making her moan. It was going to be hard to not rip them off.

Arthur moaned when she grab him by the hair to move his head and command him over her pussy to move in whatever way she wished more.

The next day, Arthur leave for battle, and Nora felt absolutely horrible about it, she can't have any update, any notice, ask anybody, hack some terminal, check on some radio because she was imprisoned in...Arthurs quarters which didn’t have much. She wanted to cry, full of worries for his well being.

She get it, it wasn’t necessary to punish her like this, she get the feeling Arthur had when she leaved.

But at night the man came back, stepping in his power armor without his helmet, surprising her, well this was weird to see, he almost never used that thing and he smelled...fishing...

-Sentinel -he stated, making chills all over Nora skin, he knew he didn’t have to sentinel her for nothing that she will take it seriously- im taking a shower and then i want you undressed in bed, im being clear?

-Yes elder...-she said actually confused, the man came out from his power armor and smiled at her lightly before closing the door of the bathroom

Nora put on a bath and underwear at least, she was confused, stranged, she didnt need this mystery, but when he came out the door she ran to hug him. He was dressing light and comfy, and didn’t have any injuries at first sight, less if they were going to have sex tonight.

-Sentinel -he said again, making Nora chew her tongue, what the hell does he wanted? -i thought i ask you to wait in bed

-Are you alright? did everything went well? i was so worried...-his hands went to unbuckle the lace of the bath, making her cheeks red and taking out a gasp of surprise, she looked at his face and he was just smiling, chill, relaxed, holding his temple, one of her legs raised slightly but she didn't find a boner in his pants.

-I also told to wait for me undressed...-this was no time to play Nora wanted to know things and...

His hands went to cup his cheeks, taking her thoughts elsewhere clearing her mind in blank at making her stare into his blue eyes, then he slowly walked pushing her, making her walk backwards until her calves touch the edges of bed, he guided her body by the shoulders to sit on it, still holding their gazes. One of his hands went to her mouth, making his fingers play with her lips, hipnotized by how the flesh moved under his tips.

-Arthur how are you...-he shuuuuuuush her, thing that Nora didnt like at all and he noticed, laughing in the insides, but still went forward and move a finger inside her mouth, making her suck it at least the tip while their eyes were holding.

-Since i take the lead of the mission and succeeded- her ears open up but she was annoyed that hell make this report a sexual play -ill take the lead here too...

-Yes...elder -as soon she said that his finger went deeper in her mouth, only half way, and her tongue worked around it. Still, eyes locked with each other.

-You were right about the mireluk queens, the worst thing aren't her acid spit  but that bitches puushes hard back, the only way to break her legs was throwing mines under her -Nora look around his body, but he didn't look hurted or anything

-Did the elder fight alone? -she mumbles and then he pushed his finger deeper, Nora could see the growing boner on his pants, this was really erotic for both, as confused and lost she was before now her panties were all wet.

-I didn’t say you could ask questions...Sentinel -he whisper as the other hand moved some locks of hair behind her ear, making a nice caress over her cheek, she started sucking on his finger and he hummed, like laughing- I was all about destroying the eggs but Preston interfere and said that we can cook with them, i didn’t know that, it has a lot of lipids inside, something you usually dont expect from a fish but there it is

-Did you install over the police station or...-a second finger went all the way down her mouth, surprising her.

-Oh my the sentinel is impatient to know the news...-he laughed a bit and grabbed the other side of her head with his fingers, using the short hairs as rides to move her head like he wanted, still, slowly to not hurt or scare her, by now Nora should understand his game.

-I just want to know if my dearest elder need some help or...-his fingers left her mouth and he moved her head harsh against his stomach, Nora almost automatically used her fingers to move down his pants and underwear, releasing his length, now it was just right there on her face.

-Your dearest elder...-he said using both hands to cup her head, fingers getting tangled between her black locks, caressing her ears and neck while she melted down on how nice it feeled to be managed like that- exploded and fill with bullets every motherfucker that came across his way

-Good to know...-a moan left her lips when he pushed her head back, she was before at a side of his cock and now she was in front of it, Arthur moved her carefully in circles, playing, making her wish and desire, scratching the back of her head making her purr and get lost on her thoughts again.

-Your elder claimed that land for you -at hearing that she look up surprised again, a hand left her ears and went to jack himself, making that gorgeous wet sounds that make Nora burn in the insides

God she didn’t know were to move, react, what to do with her damn life. She wanted to look or suck it but also wanted to pay attention to his words

-Is it done? 

-Undress, Sentinel -as soon he said that, Nora take down the bath off her shoulders, of course she was wearing his favorite black lingerie- tomorrow we will shoot some other motherfuckers as we start fencing the place -one of his eyebrows reacted at the feeling of masturbating himself, making Nora aware of it nononoono she should be the one pleasuring the elder Maxson…

-Arthur i wanna blow you...-the way her eyes were filled with lust and admiration break him apart, he look at her body in black underwear, groaning at the view of the his perfect pre-war black widow fantasy wife

-I gave the orders today, and tomorrow, and ill give all the orders i need to also claim you -she nodded down her head, her breath was changing in rhythm and he could see it in the way her breast moved up and down- you are going to obey Sentinel

-Only to you elder- thats it, he cant hold it any longer, both hands pick up her head on the sides, filling between her legs with expectation

-Suck me -in the moment he said that his breath stopped for a second, but she didnt hesitate in use her hands to hold him and swallow him entirely in her mouth

He will claim her all it was needed to remind her she was the elders perfect woman, if it werent for the damn contraceptives he was sure that this two weeks alone in his quarters were more a mating season than imprisonment for bad behavior. A very primitive and crazy part of his brain wished  everytime they were together for her to end up pregnant with his seed, a child, his Maxson heir, their baby.

He craved for it.

  https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14242575/13/Follow-me-inside-the-wastelands

[fordanoia]

‘’’

[genezpen]

『 crashing back into you 』

pairings: hoshi × gn!reader

genre: angst(?)

summary: if your drunk ex-boyfriend happen to call you in the middle of the night, saying he wants to see you, what would you do?

warnings: intentional lower case typing, did not proofread!, crying lol, drunk!hoshi, drunk call, hoshi is an ex boyfriend, lmk if i missed anything

word counts: 795

notes: this has been sitting on my drafts half finished for like weeks now and school has been very cruel and hectic pls someone save me from this hell :( anyways, lmk if u enjoyed this short fic mwaaa ^×^

it was late at night when you received a call from an unknown number — not really. it was very familiar, it’s the number you were trying to forget.

“hello?”

you heard a grunt over the phone.

“hello? w-who is this?” your voice shake a little, trying to pretend you aren't aware on who's calling you at this hour.

“oh? y/n! woah! i missed your voice,” then the man on the other line chuckled weirdly.

his raspy voice is telling you that something is up. like, your ex won't just call you to tell you he misses your voice, right?

“are you drunk?” your forehead creased.

“no! of course, not!” and that's how you know he indeed is drunk.

“yeah, and pigs can fly.” rolling your eyes, you sat up on your bed feeling giddy about the call.

why are you so chill that hoshi is calling you late at night, drunk at that point, anyway?

“hmm... c-can i come over?” he mumbled pretty distinct.

“what?” chills shiver down your spine. you had to make sure you heard your ex right.

“i said, can i come over to your apartment? right now, y/n.” hoshi stated loud and clear.

it made your heart hammered inside your chest. is he freaking serious?

“no? hoshi, you're drunk. you aren't even supposed to be calling me—”

“no, no, i’m not druuunk! i just had a drink, you know...” the high pitched sound flickered your eardrums making you back away from your phone.

this is not happening. this is not supposed to happen. you remind your heart so many times why hoshi is a dangerous guy, why you had to break your relationship up. picking up the man’s call is enough to make you realize that... you, once again, fucked up.

the next thing you know is a wild hoshi came by dropping his whole weight on the sofa infront of your bed. he’s barely awake for pete‘s sake!

“hey? hosh? you have to change your clothes...” you whisper on his ears removing his black beanie after the shoes. kneeling down on the ground beside him.

flopped on his stomach with his left cheek squished against the square pillow, completely passed out. it gave you the opportunity to stare at his now tomato red face.

what has changed over the past five months? nothing. not his face, not his voice, not his warmth... except for his slightly visible grown stubble.

“i missed you...” the wind delivered your whispers to hoshi’s ears.

“really?” like a switch, he lift his head from the cushion a bit. he opened his red puffy eyes only to find yours inches close to his.

and then silence. using only your eyes to talk, with beating hearts in the middle of the night, it's bringing back plenty of memories you refused to forget about.

but then, you mean it. you can't say that you really do but hopefully, your gaze can.

slowly, hoshi close his heavy eyelids lying back into the cushion. you let out a relief sigh before getting up to get some pair of clothes for your drunk ex-boyfriend. but before you can even took a step backwards, hoshi’s warm fingers made it’s way to your left wrist making you halt in surprise.

“don’t– don’t go...”

you looked back at him. he looked peaceful sleeping like that except he's sleep talking and is stopping you from leaving his side.

“we'll talk once you sober up. tomorrow morning, hosh.” you placed your hand on the top of his which only made his grip tighten.

“no, no, im not drunk, just tipsy. come one, let's talk now.” he tried to get up, still with his eyes closed, but guess his other hand are not working so he failed to do so. hoshi flopped right back on the couch’s surface as he grunts.

“hosh, listen to me. we will talk, okay? just not now.” but he won't let go. instead, he's pulling you close.

“no, no. what if you leave again?” his voice slightly quivered, your eyes widen at his question. “w-what if you never come back to me again?”

your insides churn. you felt a bucket of iced water splash all over your body. and most importantly, you felt a hand pinching your heart.

“i won't...” you managed to utter.

“that's what u said...” his grip loosened as he murmur those words painfully.

a liquid from your eyes fell in oblivion, “i- i’m sorry... i promise.” you gave up. “please, rest for me.” you dropped to your knees, running your fingers through his hair gently. unable to hold back your sobs, you bring the back of his hand infront of your lips to plant small kisses.

“i miss you... bad. please, don't leave...” hoshi whispers in despair.

©genezpen

all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, plagiarize, repost to another platform/sites without my permission. this is solely available on tumblr.

[eligaxy]

Wind

☆ℜ𝔢𝔩𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰𝔥𝔦𝔭 : Venti x gn!Reader

☆𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 : near death experience, you’re confused asf about everything, bad writing cause i suck, spoilers for the we will be reunited quest!! And also for venti’s backstory, venti is serious for once (yes it’s a legitimate warning🤚)

☆𝔊𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 : Some angst, some fluff? Idk bye🤨

☆𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶 : "It's okay, it's over now" he kneeled to be at your level, his arms still wrapped around you, and you didn't have the energy to fight your urge of nuzzling into him. "I'll always be here for you, wherever there is wind, remember I'm here too. You only need to ask." (2.8k words)

♪𝔑𝔬𝔱𝔢𝔰 : i’m an idiot simp, i did this in one sitting and half asleep, english isnt my first language BLA BLA IM SORRY FOR MY POOR WRITING BUT HAVE THIS

basically you don’t know if you can trust venti or not, head says no, heart screams yes

Also, I was listening to stormterror’s lair ost while writing it, just because its fucking amazing, you might wanna listen to it too

I’m nervous to post this?/&:! This is the second fic i’ve ever finished in my whole life

i love venti and he’s hot in his god outfit i don’t make the rules

KAY ENJOY <3

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

"Please, anybody... Just help me."

Saying you were exhausted would have been an understatement. After reuniting with your sibling, you had been frantically searching for clues about khaenri'ah and ways to Inazuma. With no luck, you couldn't find any traces of Dainsleif or of your twin. The ruins had been sealed and you had no idea what happened to the inverted statue or the corpse you had found there. Desperately, you clung into every little information you had, you would have turned every rock on this archon damned continent if you had to, which is what led you into those ruins near Guilli plains.

Walking along the destroyed buildings your eyes caught sight of a dandelion and you froze. You missed them so much, why couldn't they go back home with you? All you ever wanted was to be by their side why, why were they running away from you?

You remembered your travels, the moments you shared together, their protectiveness over you, the fondness in their eyes when you smiled at them. You remember the times you got hurt and healed one another with your now missing powers. You remember sleeping by their side and being grateful to the universe to let you keep your ray of sunshine everywhere with you. How ironic.

What had they meant 'once you reach the end of your journey' ? What does that even mean? Stupid twin, if they knew you were here the whole time, why hadn't they come to you? Why were they always leaving just when they were within your grasp? Why? Did they know how much you missed them and how much your heart broke when you finally saw them? Did they?

You only realized you were crying when a small gust of wind had your wet cheek react to the cold, breaking your train of thought. Wind.

The wind is everywhere, you think, free as a bird, always accompanying every citizen of this world, never truly alone. With this in mind, you resumed your exploring, slower this time.

A sigh escaped your mouth. You didn't want to admit it, but the wind did comfort you a little. Almost as if he was here. God of freedom and of the breeze, he was more a singer than a protector and you couldn't bear to think about him. Was it true? What Dain said... Did he destroy this nation? Was he the cause of the scenery that still haunted your nightmares up until 500 years later? Your brain simply couldn't accept that Venti, your Venti, you catch yourself thinking, could have made such an act of wrath. He was the epitome of freedom, why would he take the very thing he based all of his existence on from mere mortals? Barbatos simply couldn't be afraid of being overpowered, he didn't even care about power. All he wanted was freedom and happiness for his people. Surley this couldn't be right?

But then again, who were you to deny the wipe out of an entire nation? The gods did it. They were afraid that Celestia would be overthrown by the pride of humankind, the destruction of khaenri'ah by divine beings was a fact. There was no misunderstanding about this. That was the one thing you were sure of. So why did you feel like crying even more now?

The mere thought of a gentle soul such as Venti committing innocent people to an eternity of suffering didn't sit right with you. Even when his dearest friend Dvalin had turned against him, he didn't try to stop him, didn't even ask the dragon to save him. He healed and helped him, gave him a choice.

'What is freedom if demanded of you by a god?' was the same person that asked this question the same one who committed mass murder? Genocide?

Did the little wine-lover bard you had grown fond of destroy all hopes and light your kin had?

You remember that night when he freed Stanley from his burden, freed his and his friends' spirits. You had marveled at his action, in that instant he was a god, and he definitely hadn't struck you as a murderer. You remember that look of silent pain and grief in his eyes when he sang the tales of the nameless bard he had taken the appearance of. You knew he trusted you enough to share his story, something so personal, you could almost feel the war that took down the tyrant of Mond. Oh how much you cherished that evening, treating him to some well deserved dandelion wine afterwards, his favorite, and asking him to sing you more about the time where was nothing but the spirit of a breeze.

Your heart broke a little, remembering his rosy cheeks and drunk smile, you wish you could talk to him, ask him what happened. What did he do, was he really as dangerous as you had been told? If so, then why did you feel so good around him? Why did you feel like you could give hi-

You stopped walking upon seeing a ruin guard up ahead in the distance. You're so stupid, you think. Feeling this way is not gonna get you anywhere, especially with how the bard had been missing for a few weeks now. Ever since you had last seen your sibling.

Where was he, where was he wandering off to? You walk towards the disabled ruin guard, not really paying any mind to it, still thinking about the god you longed to meet with. If you could see him, what would you even say? Would he even answer your questions? Why did your stomach feel so light and funny when you thought about seeing him, why aren't you angrier?

You're almost at the killing machine's level now, so lost in your thought you don't notice the five other similar robots hidden behind a wall next to it. You notice them only when it's too late and you've already turned them on while thinking about examining them and collecting their serial numbers. When you hear the familiar tick of the mechanism turning on, you internally panic and think about running away only to calm down moments later and think to yourself that you can simply beat it and take what you came here for. Even if you are emotionally and physically tired, you can manage, you think.

That was before hearing five other consecutive ticks right after it, and all around you.

Turning around, your gaze falls upon the small army of field tillers. Fuck.

Paimon wasn't with you today, you had asked for some time alone which she hesitantly accepted, so you couldn't ask her to go fetch help. You would have been worried if you had all your capacities but with the state you were in, you were wondering how you were going to survive this fight. You were alone, none of your companions with you, and deeply weakened by the busy day you had and the few hours of sleep you had managed to steal away from the night. Was it today you would meet your doom, with all your questions and uncertainties unanswered?

You tried your best to fight with the strength you had left, but quickly grew desperate after what felt like hours of efforts to swing your blade and being able to only take one monster down out of the six. It didn't help that you got injured along the way, their blows becoming harder and harder to dodge. After being thrown on the grown for the third time, you understood you had at least two broken ribs and that your shaking legs would soon fail you as well.

Fear crept upon you, you would die here today, alone. Alone. You couldn't talk to your sibling after all, couldn't understand. You didn't even get to talk to him one last time. Him... You would die without the knowledge of the truth about your bard. You would die alone. You didn't want that, you couldn't look death straight in the eye.

"Please, anybody... Just help me."

-

In Mondstadt, there was a musician, a weird singer everyone had heard about at least once. He lived off of his songs and was mostly known for having a great story-telling and being an alcoholic.

The number of people who knew the true nature of his identity were few and he was perfectly content with that. He didn't wish to be a god anymore, his gnosis had been taken away anyway and it's not like he had any power over the city of wind nowadays. Even if his people still worshipped him as Barbatos, it didn't sit right with him to be called a god anymore. It actually never did, he thinks to himself with a smile, he never really took any responsibilities that came with the divine title which is why he was so weak today. But it didn't matter to him, his smile turns into a soft giggle.

Sitting on a mill that was once born from his steps he looks fondly over the city he founded. Even if they were godless, the citizens were still thriving and free. He cared oh so very deeply about the place even if he rarely, if not never, showed the affection within his heart. He remembers the day he grew strong enough to dispel the storms over his actual Mondstadt, and made the weather gentle enough so that there was no need for fireplaces. Nowadays, he loves watching birds nest into the chimney tops and seeing them found their own home. It gave him a sense of belonging like no other, not above his people, but walking among them and watching them nest into this cocoon he created. He was proud of what happened to his land and would do it all over again if he had to.

Especially since it led to him meeting you. This thought doesn't catch him off guard, you often roamed around in his mind after all, and it's not like he didn't write at least three songs about you and your feat, your smile, your courage...

Ah there he goes again, rambling about you in a whisper. He turns around to the statue of him his people erected in his honor, chuckling at how they never made the connection with his signature braids. His, but not really his, since he had stolen this form from someone who was much more deserving of this power than him. Seeing his friend being honored with the statues of the seven around the land made him happy, he hoped that it was a good enough thank you gift in return for everything that the bard whom he couldn't even remember the name of anymore did for him.

Upon gazing at the statue, he remembered telling you of his long gone friend. It was the first time he had talked about him to someone else, he didn't even mention it to Venessa, she who made him believe in himself again. He could ask himself why, but he simply knew that you had something different, more than meets the eye. Perhaps it was because you weren't from Teyvat, or perhaps it was just you being as simple as your natural self but he was simply and utterly captivated by your being. You inspired him to no end, at first he thought it was because he had never met someone like you and he loved new things! But as time grew and he got to know you, he understood quickly the meaning and depth of his passions. He thought of it with a light chuckle, content with your presence alone. He really did need and want you around.

So why did he purposely avoid you like the plague?

The wind had brought to his ears that you had met with Dainsleif.

And your twin.

His first reaction was to search for you, talk to you, he wanted to be here to know what happened! You had searched so long, he couldn't contain himself, still listening to what the wind told him, he started running with excitement but... But wait, Dainsleif was... He told you what?

Oh.

So you heard about Khaenri'ah. He had stopped dead in his tracks and turned back, only sending a warm current of wind your way, hugging you from afar.

He wasn't ready to talk about this yet, not ready to face you and absolutely not ready to answer your questions. He was a coward, he thought, running away like that but what else could he do, really. It was only natural for him to be as uncatchable as air.

A sorry excuse to avoid the fact that even if his past had marvelous story like the one of the nameless bard, it also had its share of darkness, something he wasn't ready to dive back into. Especially not now when your arrival has been shaking this world up like it hasn't been since at least 500 years.

But oh, how he longed to see your face or to hear your voice. So he asked a breeze to report to him what you were up to, and where you were. Just in case! he tells himself, what if you needed help ehe? But he knows you're competent and you won't need the help of a weakling coward like him anytime soon. Or so he thought.

Because when the breeze only gives him a few words back, his blood runs cold.

"Please, anybody... Just help me."

-

As you murmured these words in your desperate state, not really for anyone but yourself as a last resort, a prayer of some sort, you tried to stand by leaning yourself on your sword and failing miserably. You didn't dare look up as you heard the loud footsteps of the metal giants coming your way. It was over, and you barely managed to accept it.

As you rested your forehead against the cold handle of your sword, you closed your eyes, tears starting to make their ways out of your closed eyelids. All you could feel was remorse.

A soft breeze moved your hair slightly and your chest felt like a black hole had taken place where your heart used to be, regretting to not have been able to meet him under the tree at Windrise one last time.

The breeze quickly grew stronger, until it felt unnatural and you looked up from the ground, only to close your eyes again immediately when you realized the wind was too powerful for you to keep them open. If you had struggled to see though, you would have been blinded by the white light that soon illuminated the whole ruins. You didn't have enough time to register the situation when you felt a hand being laid atop your shoulder, snaking around your collarbones and pulling you back into... nothing? Another arm circled your weak form and a voice you immediately recognized said

"I've dealt with things worse than you, now crumble."

You realized that if you couldn't feel a chest behind you while still being embraced by his arms, it was because he was floating above you, and not standing behind you. A look in his direction confirmed your suspicions but what stunned you wasn't the fact that he was flying, but the attire he wore. Barely covering his body, a white set made of materials that seemed like clouds and liquid gold contrasted perfectly with his regular green clothes. His hair was glowing green and his eyes that were focused on the ruin guards up ahead had a marvelous shine that you had never seen before. He had that same aura he did the night he freed Stanley, but there was also something different about the way his hands gripped you a little too tightly or the way his voice sounded.

"Venti.." You muttered his name, relief and affection flooding you all at once, in his presence you felt as if nothing bad could happen to you. How foolish could you be, just a few hours ago you were speculating wether or not he had wiped out an entire civilisation and now here you were, being saved by him and feeling safer than you had in months.

"Close your eyes, I don't want give you a headache" he said, slowly floating legs first towards the ground. His unusually serious voice surprised you (and him) but you did as he told you. Letting go of your sword and leaning back into him, you let him deal with the monsters ahead of you.

"It's okay, it's over now" he kneeled to be at your level, his arms still wrapped around you, and you didn't have the energy to fight your urge of nuzzling into him. "I'll always be here for you, wherever there is wind, remember I'm here too. You only need to ask."

Being protected by a god really didn't feel that bad. Especially when you were in love with said god.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Thank you so much for reading whatever this is until the end :’)

Don’t hesitate to comment or reblog, tysm <3

Ps: venti loves u and so do i do pls take care of urself mwah

[parvulous-writings]

Not on My Watch // Jesse McCree x F!Reader

Request:   Howdy! Perhaps another Mccree fic? 👀 Mccree and fem S/o decides to have a chill leisure and some dude catcalled s/o and Mccree witnessed it? what do he do? 😳🤠 (loved the previous fic you did for me im still reading it til this day!!)

Requested by: @fragolaaaaaaa​

Summary: McCree takes you out, and you get cat-called.

Warnings: catcalling, alcohol, explicit language.

Words: 1.2K

Notes:  Howdy! I had quite a bit of fun with this one! I’m happy to hear you’re still reading my other fic for you! Makes me smile! My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist!

Not my gif

It was one of McCree’s rare days off, and he had insisted on taking you out for the evening to one of his old local haunts, an old bar in the middle of Deadlock Grange. The entire town may have had some less than savoury memories, but he was hoping that spending some time there with you would clear those away or at least push them to the side.  All he wanted was to share a drink with you on a day off, hear you laugh and see you smile at something stupid he’s said. That was his plan- share drinks with you (preferably something involving whisky for himself), maybe get a little less sober and have some real quality time together, away from the buzz of the Overwatch complex. 

That was his plan. Initially, things had gone really well- you were now a couple of drinks in, and absolutely loving your time together. You personally couldn’t see why Deadlock Grange was so bad, even after all the tales you had been told. Jesse had gone to get the third round for the pair of you, more than happy to be paying for all of these drinks.  Whilst he was gone, someone else saddled up on the stool behind you. You didn’t think anything of it at first, anyone in the facility had right to sit at the bar, rather than at at table. It was when he started speaking to you that the problems started to arise. 

“Well, hey there, doll,” He greeted, leaning closer to you- so close that you could smell the alcohol on his breath; practically taste it as you turned to give him a distasteful look, to try and show him you were not in any way interested. However, he seemed to take this as the exact opposite of what you had intended. He shuffled so that he sat on the edge of his seat, his face mere inches from your own.  “Haven’t seen you round here before... You new?”  “Not exactly, could you please-”  “Show you around? Sure thing... I’d love to...” He gave you a lopsided grin, brushing some of his greasy, auburn locks from his forehead, clearly trying to make himself appear more attractive. It didn’t work very well at all.  “No, that’s not what I was going to say.” You reply, giving him another disgusted look. He seemed to pout a little bit at your words, but you did not cave in to those green faux puppy eyes.  “Shame...” He half laments. “I could’ve shown you my place.. Real special, I think you’d like it. ‘Specially the bedroom.” He gave you a sly wink that made your skin crawl. 

You move to turn away from him again, but he puts his hand on your shoulder and pulls you back. “Oh come on, now, doll.” He coos. “Don’t be that way, I was being so nice to you, weren’t I?” He pauses, quirking his brow. “Or did you want something more?” He started to grin- but not the kind of grin you would have wanted to see on someone’s face. This one was sick, and twisted, and outright vile. He used his hand on your shoulder to slowly but surely pull you closer to him, till you were practically sitting on his lap. His arms were like the coils of a constrictor as they slowly wrapped themselves around you, holding you in place and preventing your plan of escape. 

You heard someone clearing their throat near McCree’s seat- sure enough, it was the gunslinger himself. “’Scuse me, sir.” The needless honourific was drenched in Southern venom, a poison you hadn’t heard him use often at all. This kind of tone was used for people like Reyes or O’Deorain- people who had wronged him substantially, and caused his blood to boil even to this day.  The man turned his eyes to Jesse, giving an unsavoury look in his direction. “Can I help you?” He quipped back, and though your eyes were fixed on McCree, you could hear the snarl on your aggressor’s face.  “Yeah, actually.” Jesse put the tray of drinks- two pints and some shots- on the surface of the bar. They landed with a clank, and it was surprising that they didn’t topple over or break with the force of the landing. “That’s my girl,” He gestured to you as he spoke. The man just scoffed.  “Yeah I don’t think that she is.” He replied with a roll of his eyes. This just infuriated Jesse; you didn’t think you’d ever seen such fire flash behind those earthy irises of his. 

His hands started to ball into fists by his sides as he tried desperately to keep his nerve. “I suggest that you step away from ‘er, right now.” He warned, his tone dark and dangerous. You could just tell he was seconds from snapping, and you’d never even seen him this angry before.  “And what if I don’t, huh? What’re you gonna do?” The man challenged, “I could give you a new one of those, real easy.” He gestured to McCree’s metal arm. “You can’t do shit, cowboy.” The man slowly got to his feet, flicking the brim of Jesse’s hat as he finished his sentence. 

It was then that McCree snapped. He grabbed the collar of the man’s shirt and yanked him away from you- with such a force that it caused Jesse’s victim to yelp, and not quietly either. It caused close tables to stop their conversation, as McCree started to drag the man who tried to woo his girl, his sugarcube outside. It was something he simply could not accept, something that could not go unpunished. Once he had gotten the man onto the dusty road outside the bar, he tossed him to the ground face first.  “You stay the fuck away from her!” He growled, kicking the man back down when he tried to get up. The man’s auburn hair stuck to his face and got in his eyes as he groaned.  “I didn’t even do anything!” He protested weakly.  “You tried, and that’s what I’m angry about. You leave her the fuck alone, or you’ll be gettin’ more than some bruises, I promise ya that!” He vowed, and even this stranger seemed to get the memo. Finally. 

With that final threat, Jesse returned to you- taking off his hat and placing it on the bar as he sat beside you. “Sorry about that, sugarcube....” He apologised, seeming genuinely remorseful that he had left you alone, even for a moment. “And for losin’ my cool...” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he spoke. You placed a hand on his, showing him some affection to comfort him.  “It’s fine Jesse... I liked it, really.” You chuckled, brushing some of his deep brown locks from his brow. “It shows you care... And it was pretty damn sexy.”  McCree looked at you for a moment, slightly baffled, before he began to smile, reaching for one of the drinks still on the tray. “Well, if that’s the case... I’m mighty relieved I could be of assistance to ya...” He took a small sip of his drink, before he felt your warm lips against the stubble on his cheek.  “You know, cowboy, I meant it when I said that was sexy...” You whisper to him. He seems to get your hint, and starts to chuckle.  “Finish your drink off, pumpkin.” He tells you, “Then maybe I’ll give you a lil’ something’.” He winked at you- and his wink was one you genuinely adored; it sent shivers down your spine and made butterflies flutter in your stomach.  “Alright, cowboy...” You smirk, picking up your drink, starting to sip at it. It will be a fun night indeed.. 

[klixxy]

Genshin Fic Recs

so... i ventured into the vast world of Google looking for some good GI fic recs... only to find such a pitiful amount that i was promptly devastated. therefore, the solution is to make my own! :D

keep in mind most of these will be ChiLi or XingYun, and yes, i will try not to include smut unless it was one i really really liked. if anyone wants a separate list for just smut (though that will most likely be shorter) i can try to make one later.`

ft. my bookmark comments :)

CHILI

wrapped up in pure gold by beyondwinter

(chili; accidental marriage; chili/childe-centric; 22k words; ongoing)

"Do you understand its meaning, Childe?" He finally asks. There's a hard glint in his eyes, like he's trying to steel himself for his answer.

"Yeah." Loyalty and devotion, right? Between business partners? "I do. It's traditional, isn't it?"

Zhongli's eyes glow a warm amber in the near darkness, reflecting the soft shine of the lanterns. He studies his face with a strange intensity, as though Childe were a piece of high quality Nocticulous Jade being sold for suspiciously small sum and he's trying to find the blemishes that would explain the price. The weight of his gaze should be uncomfortable, boring into him like he can see into the very depths of his abyss-tainted soul, but Childe finds himself preening under the attention instead.

Childe accidentally proposes to Zhongli. Zhongli accepts.

The World is Water by Millereflets

(chili; smut; hurt/comfort; chili-centric; 7k words; oneshot)

Childe doesn't visit Zhongli until it's almost too late.

(my bookmarks: HOW DO YOU MAKE A SMUT SCENE SO POETIC HOLY SHITTTTT)

Set in Stone by seredemia

(chili; fake dating au; angst; some smut?; chili/chiilde-centric; 55k words; ongoing)

What do you do when you write about a certain six thousand year old consultant so much in your letters that it somehow convinces your entire family you're not only dating each other, but that you're also engaged?

In Childe's case, the answer is plain and simple: he goes along with it, of course. Absolutely nothing can go wrong if he makes a contract with the God of Contracts, vowing that the two of them will pretend to be lovers for the duration of his family's stay in Liyue. Afterwards, they'll return as normal and speak no more of this mess. No feelings or complications involved whatsoever.

Contract accepted. A fool-proof plan set in stone. Right?

Private Ledger of the Eleventh Harbinger by JuHuaTai

(chili; humor; getting together; chili/ekaterina-centric; 5k words; oneshot)

“So guess what I did next?”

Ekaterina contemplated not answering, but Harbinger Tartaglia was just… grinning and waiting. It’s honestly rather creepy the longer time passed.

In the end, she gave a long suffering sigh that seems lost on him, “You bought him the Erhu—“

“I bought him the antique, cor lapis based Erhu,”

-

When she first left her homeland for the unknown nation of Liyue, Ekaterina was ready to be many things: To be a soldier, to fell Tsaritsa’s enemies in her name, to bring glory to Snezhnaya and her leader.

Being a receptionist in a cozy bank wasn’t so bad in comparison, but she absolutely can do without the front row seat to Harbinger Tartaglia’s (expensive) love life.

i know i'm where i'm meant to go by paperclips (pastel_paperclips)

(chili; humor; fluff; chili-centric; 12k words; ongoing)

"Childe," Zhongli says suddenly. "I am enjoying myself greatly." Childe’s face breaks into a grin. "Then-" Zhongli gasps, grabbing his wrist and tugging him over to an unsuspecting peddler with a cart full of rocks. "Is that an intrusive igneous pegmatite formed in the Inazuma regions?" Childe’s grin smooths into a small, adoring smile. He has all the time in the world to figure the other man out.

OR: Finding the Geo Archon is on Childe's to-do list but hanging out with Zhongli is significantly more fun.

CHILIVEN

Crumbling Stone by avtorSola

(chiliven; ANGST; PAIN; mind control; zhongli-centric; 74k words; ongoing)

When Morax unleashes his plan to test the Liyue Qixing and his adepti, he does not take into account the stirring of the Abyss Order in the north and the corruption of Dvalin - for why would he fear an organization that works in such shadows? He is secure in his power, after all, unlike his flighty ex, the absentee archon of Mondstadt who rises only when his people are in danger.

But, somehow, the Abyss Order discovers his plan. Somehow, they capitalize on it. And he, the God of Stone who cannot sicken, is struck down - taken by an order bent on destroying all of humanity as Liyue crumbles around him. For even Archons aren't immune to Durin's blood, and Morax is no exception. But then the question becomes - if even Archons may fall to the agony of this corrupting burn - how is their traveling friend Aether immune?

The answer comes from beyond the stars - an ancient malice that knows no kindness or mercy. A malice whose legacy the Abyss Order now bears, seeking to topple all the Archons and their people into the void of utter destruction. And they have begun in Liyue.

Fortunately, it takes a long time to erode stone.

(my bookmarks: IM SCREAMING AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA)

PLATONIC ZHONGVEN

left-behind city by trixstar

(platonic zhongven; angst; ANGST; venti-centric; 1k words; oneshot)

"An associate of mine has just informed me that Rex Lapis, the Geo Archon has been assassinated."

Venti blinks.

Or: Venti and how he copes with finding out he is all that remains.

i circle ten thousand years long; and i still do not know if i am a falcon, a storm, or an unfinished song by birdsofpassage

(platonic zhongven; angst; hurt/comfort; zhongven-centric; 4k words; oneshot)

Venti and Zhongli, and the vignettes of a much-needed vacation around Mondstadt.

(my bookmarks: ; - ;      ;  -  ; )

oh ye with little faith by air_fried_air

(platonic zhongven; angst; hurt/comfort; zhongven-centric; 2k words; oneshot)

Two former archons do a little tour around Mondstadt.

(my bookmarks: why are all genshin angst fics so melancholy.... i feel so empty)

the wind through the mountain tops by glassdrachma

(platonic zhongven; humor; hurt/comfort; zhongven-centric; 21k words; finished)

Boredom brings Barbatos of Mondstadt to bother a certain ex-Archon of the Earth.

(my bookmarks: venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship-)

XINGYUN

the art of exorcism by Agried

(xingyun; ghost au; hurt/comfort; chongyun-centric; 9k words; oneshot)

On the road back from one of his jobs, Chongyun runs into Xingqiu, the wandering swordsman. And then they keep meeting, over and over again. or, alternately; how a ghost and an exorcist learn how to love, one step at a time.

Bane of All Evil by tzitzimeme

(xingyun; humor; romance; chongyun-centric; 24k words; hiatus)

When Chongyun unintentionally offends Liyue's second most powerful adepti, he vows to mend the thorny relationship between Adeptus Xiao and human exorcists-- even though no one has succeeded in currying Xiao's favor for over a thousand years.

His best friend Xingqiu offers to come alone, mainly because he's worried about what kind of trouble Chongyun will run into. Along the way, they receive help from others: Xiangling packs them meals for their journeys, while Zhongli gives them advice on what demons to track.

Childe is just there because he thinks the whole thing is hilarious.

[On indefinite hiatus due to burnout; sorry!]

kiss me slowly (so i don't forget) by xiwangmu

(xingyun; humor; romance; light angst; xingqiu-centric; 8k words; oneshot)

Wangshu Inn Bulletin Board

Guest Message: My best friend whom I harbor affections for kissed me last night, but due to his special condition he does not recall a single moment of it. I am quite conflicted about whether to disclose these events to him or not, because that would most certainly require me to confess my feelings as well. If anyone has experience in romancing boys with excessive positive energy, this one humbly asks you to share some advice.

Reply: Our greatest apologies—although we would like to offer some words in response, we simply cannot decipher your handwriting. Perhaps you may return with a neater message next time?

time trials by idlestars

(xingyun/many ships; humor; modern au; xingyun-centric; 2k words; oneshot)

A modern social media AU.

Xingqiu Teases Demons. Chongyun Almost Cries. [The clip shows Xingqiu, lit by the sickly green of night vision, as he stares bored into a dark room. He’s alone - Chongyun left to see if Xingqiu could lure out the ghosts. Xingqiu glances at the camera, smirks, and then opens his mouth.

“Hey demons, it’s me, yah boy.”]

OTHER/GEN

woe be the wallet of the god of wealth by glassdrachma

(gen; humor; identity reveal; keqing/zhongli-centric; 12k words; finished)

Or, the story of how the Yuheng of the Qixing came to idolize, befriend, and discover the identity of the God of Geo, in that order.

(personal comments: hilarious, made me burst out into laughter multiple times, and was just a masterful piece of writing)

to dream of dust by miao_x

(guili/gen; ANGST; hurt/no comfort; zhongli-centric; 5k words; oneshot)

Some nights, Zhongli dreams.

He dreams of soft light, golden song, and a gentle breeze whispering tales of millennia past. It is warm, familiar, and comforting.

It feels like home.

And then he opens his eyes, and awakes to reality.

(my bookmarks: oh zhongli... made me cry)

To drown in your own tears by C_rin_nyan

(guili/gen; ANGST; TEARS; PAIN; zhongli-centric; 2k words; oneshot)

As Rex Lapis, he had never shed a tear, even as he slaughtered hundreds, destruction following his every step. As Zhongli, he had shed much more than he would like to admit, however.

Or, “Zhongli’s soul gave its last scream long ago, yet even now, the echo of said sound was still strong enough to reach Rex Lapis.”

[hansolmates]

the proposal (m)

banner done by the ammmahhzzing @eerieedits​

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“For fuck’s sake—”

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

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

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

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

“Done and done.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’ve been seeing red for days. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you get Taemin’s second draft?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Trouble in paradise?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh… hot?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Favorite movie?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hard.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s part of the family, isn’t he?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Which means?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kiss kiss kiss!” 

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

“Kiss him before I do!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please don’t say it.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it ‘Rotten Love’?” 

“That’s the one.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“What movie?” 

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

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

“Jung Hoseok!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Always.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Already out the door, bossman.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Owie, ow, ow—fuck you! Ow!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you say something?” 

“I said, I’m sorry.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You were worried?” 

“Shut up.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But still.” 

“Fine, you wanna make it up to me?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You sure about that, baby girl?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll just warm up the car and—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your mom is offering Jungkook a wedding band. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.”

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

“Yeah.”

“That’s nice.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shoot.” 

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

“Of course, that’s why we’re here.” 

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

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

What? 

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

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

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

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

“Are you worried he’s unconvinced?” 

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

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

“What, like fake moan into the wall?” 

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

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

“Are you kidding—you’re my boss!” 

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

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

“Wow, I really hate late-night talks. All the secrets come out, don’t they?” 

“If it makes you feel better, your ass looks great in pencil skirts,” you turn to him with flared eyes, “what? I’m just trying to let you know I mayhaps find you attractive.” 

“Mayhaps you should stop talking before I regret this.” 

His eyebrows lift and disappear from his bangs, the hair freshly dried and fluffy from his late night shower. He then pats his lap with a little blasé as if to say “hop on”, and you ignore the way how good the seat looks, his boxer briefs doing nothing to hide his unmentionables. 

Trying to fight alongside your last drop of dignity, you take your time. 

“C’mon y/n, don’t make it weird.” 

“It’s been weird, Jeon! Jimin’s next door!” you hiss, backing away slightly, “Give me some time, I can’t just hump my boss!” 

“You’re not humping your boss.” Jungkook has the audacity to grin, the expression looking absolutely sinful in the moonlight. “Think of it as your lover wanting to make you feel good.” 

The bridge between love and hatred is a fine, fine line stemmed by passion. 

Careful, you lift your blankets up and slip out of them, moving to sit up. It’s ridiculous, tiptoeing around your bed to avoid any sudden creaks in the aged wood of your mahogany headboard. 

“We’re out to prove to your family we fuck on the reg,” Jungkook snips, “you can make noise.” 

Within seconds, he’s hauling you on his lap. You squeak in surprise, feeling the thin material of his boxers seep through your thin silk shorts. You wriggle around, monitoring Jungkook’s expression. He does not allude too much, but you take note of the way Jungkook secures you with his hands between the swells of your thighs. 

“I’m not a rollercoaster, stop adjusting like you’re gonna buckle up.” 

Jungkook’s dry humor lightens the mood considerably, and you can’t help but smile timidly at his attempt to make you feel at ease. He lets you take your time, and you never imagined someone so demanding in the office can be so… kind in bed. 

You dip forward to kiss his lips once, twice. He looks needy, but lets you set the pace. You appreciate that. You’re salivating at his willingness to make you feel good, and you whimper as he nibbles on a sensitive spot on your neck. 

You need more. Sensing your urgency when you jerk his chin up, he muffles your sounds with a harsh kiss, taking care to moan deeply into your mouth. The heat is luxurious on this winter night, burgundy kisses exchanged between the sheets like secrets. His tongue slips between your teeth, tasting every inch of you and exploring you like the deepest texts. 

He pulls away slightly, and you’re drowning in his gaze. “Am I still just kinda-sorta handsome now?” he nips at your neck, sucking on a spot between your jaw. 

“N-no,” and you pull him up by the chin, taking in his messy hair and glazed eyes, “you’re fucking sexy,” and you tug your mouth to his once more. 

You don’t even realize that you’re rolling your hips until Jungkook breaks the kiss in favor of grabbing your hips, making sure your core is nestled perfectly between his hardening length. It doesn’t take long for the both of you to get wet, and the silk glides easily between your thighs like butter.

“That’s it, baby girl,” he encourages, one hand reaching up to cup your breast, “use me, make  yourself feel good.” 

“Please, don’t call me that,” you whine against his mouth, trying to keep the mood in, “Babe is fine, but baby girl makes me feel like a little kid and I’m not a little kid.”

“You damn right,” and he lifts his hips to meet yours in a sharp thrust, and you gasp hotly into his mouth. It’s too late to muffle your moans, not when you’re drenched with two pathetic pieces of fabric stopping the both of you. “You’re a gorgeous, intelligent, strong, amazing woman.” 

With every compliment, he does all the work, thrusting with each adjective like he’s blessing poetry into your body. 

“J-Jungkook,” the name is muffled against his shoulder, too fuzzed in ecstasy to be embarrassed by the drool coating his tank top. His hair tickles your shoulder as he nips at your clothed breasts, swirling around your nipple. “I-I, m’gonna come,” 

“You’re almost there huh?” and he slips a hand between you two to find that sweet spot, swirling designs between your shorts. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

And you’re shaking, collapsing into his embrace as he rides out your high. He cradles one hand in your hair as you rub furiously against his other, chasing your pleasure like a starved animal. 

“K-Kook,” you murmur into his neck, finding the strength to roll your hips one more time to check. “You’re still hard, do you want me to help?”

“No.” he’s forthright, and as tired as you are, you force yourself to pick your head up. Sweat lines his brow and his face is flushed, but he’s already helping you off and handing you a tissue from the nightstand. 

“What?” you’re hurt, and don’t want to admit why. 

“Don’t feel like you need to,” he grunts into your forehead, dipping a chaste kiss right in the center. “Just let me do something nice to you for once.” 

As much as you want to, you don’t complain as he tucks you in. You don’t complain when you see a wet stain on his Kirby boxer briefs. You don’t answer back when he checks his phone one more time and pulls you in to press a kiss to your cheek. It’s 12:31. 

“Merry Christmas,” he murmurs into your skin, and turns over so his back faces you. 

Christmas is a loud and eager affair. The entirety of your family piles into your house while still in pajamas, aunts and uncles from other villas running in with their children with their newly opened toys and gadgets. There’s a buffet style breakfast piled on the kitchen island, and you’re all eating in the living room while watching holiday movies. 

Jungkook melds right in, unsurprisingly. He has your baby cousin Dante in his lap, teaching him how to use the controls of his new Nintendo Switch. 

Despite only meeting Jungkook a few days ago, you notice that some of your family have taken the liberty of giving him small presents. You spot a simple silver chain around his wrist, courtesy of Jimin, and a fluffy grey scarf wrapped around his neck, courtesy of your aunt’s impeccable knitting club. 

“He fits right in, doesn’t he?” 

Yoongi hands you your usual cup of tea, and you accept it gratefully. You’re sitting right next to the tree, and you notice that some of the ornaments are miniature books. You absentmindedly run your fingers over the carved wood, especially on the ones that are your favorite titles. 

“Yeah,” you hate to admit, so you whisper it into your mug. But Yoongi can hear, he always does. “I didn’t think it would be this easy.” 

“Easy to love him, or easy to fit into this family?” 

You splutter into your mug, and Yoongi does the right thing by patting your back. It feels a little bit like he’s burping a baby, but otherwise, it soothes your lungs. 

“I am happy for you, you know.” he says, knocking knees with you. “It might not seem like it now, but I truly am.” 

Deciding not to dwell on his subversive confession, you thank him for the tea and excuse yourself. Dante seems like he’s got the hang of MarioKart, so you tug Jungkook by the hand and lead him back into your bedroom. 

“I got you a present, but I didn’t feel like making a scene about it,” you pull out a pink gift bag, tufts of white tissue paper sticking out. “Also, it’s kinda cheap and it was a last minute thing, so don’t have any high expectations.” 

“Gee, you’re really making me feel deserving of this gift,” but he takes his time in unraveling the bag anyway. 

He pulls out a shiny onyx black mug, rolling it between his hands. On one side it’s engraved in gold cursive “World’s Best Boss” but on the other side it’s engraved, “World’s Best Husband”. 

“Subtle,” he grins, pulling you into a hug. He gets that it’s a gag gift, but because it’s from you, it's a lot more meaningful. You could’ve easily delved into his bank accounts and see what he buys for himself, but you decided to take the more personal route. 

“Thanks,” he murmurs into your hair. And to really throw you off he says, “For my gift, I’ve decided to publish your novel.” 

You shove him away as if you’ve been stung, and you barely have the voice to ask, “Are you serious, you’ve read my novel? I didn’t even send you the first draft!” 

“We share the same Google Drive, it was easy to find. If you had noticed, it’s the only thing I’ve been reading this week,” he shrugs as if it’s nothing, but he’s in actuality giving you your lifelong dream. “You deserve it, really. I’m sorry if you felt like it wasn’t ready to be read. But it was wonderful, you’re a real wordsmith.” 

“I’m not upset,” you can’t be, not when he smells so good and he’s trying to hug you all over again. “How many copies?”

“10,000.”

“20,000.”

“15,000, and I’ll even give you permission to dedicate your novel to me.” he raises his brows irreverently. 

You scoff at his arrogance, but you don’t admit to confessing that along with professors and your family, you would be dedicating it to him. “Well my gift feels like absolute shit,” you deadpan, “can I have a do-over tomorrow? We can go to the mall or something.”

“You’ve done enough for me,” he disagrees, breaking away from you to place the mug on your desk. “Agreeing to my farfetched proposal, letting me into your home. I think that’s an amazing gift.” 

“You’ve been way too nice,” you look at him wearily, noting the rosiness in his cheeks. 

“You say that like it’s not possible!” 

“Who knows? Maybe the Christmas spirit has performed a miracle, who am I to judge?” and you can’t get enough of the man, running into his heart one more time. Pressing your ear to his chest you sing, “Well, in the Poconos they say, that Jeon Jungkook’s heart grew three sizes that day.” 

It may have not grown three sizes, but if the living room wasn’t so loud, maybe you could’ve heard his heart beating three times as fast. 

The calm after the storm is your favorite part of Christmas. Most of your extended family has left to mull in their own homes, leaving your family to laze around until it’s just you and Jungkook that are awake. 

Jim Carrey’s version of How the Grinch Stole Christmas is playing on Netflix, arguably the only superior rendition of the children's book. The tree is still glowing by the fireplace, soft white lights trickling in the darkened room. 

Earlier in the night, you and Jungkook had cuddled up in the middle of the couch under a blanket, and were too lazy to move even when the entirety of your family vacated. Either of you could’ve easily shoved each other off and went to bed, but here you are, making offhand comments over hot cocoa. Each second that passes by, you’re more aware of how well you two sink between the fabric like you’re meant to do this. The domesticity terrifies you, but you don’t dare to point it out. 

“How does his face do that?” Jungkook turns to you, contorting his face into funny expressions. It’s a poor attempt at the green creature on the screen, but it makes your mouth twitch and you fight the urge to giggle. “It’s like he’s made of rubber.” 

“He has a sense of humor, unlike some people.” 

“Very funny,” he says, turning away to take a sip of his cooca. 

Sinking further into the couch, you unconsciously latch onto him more, savoring his body heat. “Can I confess something?��  

“What’s up?” 

“A week ago, I loathed you. I used to have recurring dreams about you getting run over by a Wonderbread truck. And I was driving the truck.” 

“Wow, that makes me feel so much better.” 

“No really, if I had the opportunity to watch you get hit by a cab, I would’ve paid for it.” 

“If it were possible for me to file for divorce at this very second, now would be time. You are a walking red flag.” 

“Okay, but!” you shush him with a finger to your lips, and he goes cross-eyed at the touch. “After seeing your stellar performance this week and an impeccable display of human emotion. I think after all of this, we could be friends.” 

“Fwends?” he says through your finger, mouth smushed. “Why whuh we?” 

Instead of lifting your finger right away, you swipe at his cherry lips, getting rid of the marshmallow sticking to the corners. 

“Because we get along.” you say simply.

“Because we’re supposed to be getting married.” 

“No! We’ve always gotten along! We’ve just been too up our asses to notice!” you sit up, appalled. “Here’s my theory, a change of setting has suddenly spurred on your character development—”

“—y’know I really don’t appreciate your use of literary jargon, it’s really pretentious—”

“—because without your external conflict, you have a chance to let loose and enjoy your life for once!” 

Jungkook frowns, adjusting his frame so he slightly hovers you. He’s pretty like this, dressed in fluffy black pajamas and his face soft. His eyes absorb the Christmas fairy lights, and you notice for the first time in two years that there are no longer purple bags under his eyes. 

“I don’t know,” he murmurs, voice so small you wonder if he’s worried to crush the moment. “Friends are hard.” 

You shake your head vehemently, “Friends are easy, keeping them is the hard part.”

He doesn’t know why he’s being so weird about this. You’ve worked for him for over two years, you know him as well as you know your skincare routine, down to the last detail. 

“Jeon, don’t think too hard about this,” you try to get him to lighten up, the intense look in his eyes throwing you in for a loop. It makes the little hamster wheel in your head spin rapidly, and you wonder if you’re really crossing a line. “Jimin said you had a really good time yesterday, I was almost jealous I couldn’t come shopping with you.” 

He cracks a smile at that, “Yeah, Jimin and I shared a moment,” and he leans down to the shell of your ear, “and he said he really enjoyed our moment last night.” 

“Oh my god!” you grab a nearby throw pillow, chucking the rough fabric in his face. 

He breaks into a laugh, but not the wine and dine chuckles that he’d have between terse negotiations for work. It’s a full out giggle, like he’s proud to have riled you up enough to break your resolve. Who knew your angry face could be so cute? 

“I guess if we’ve crossed a line, might as well make it all the way to the end,” Jungkook says easily, running a hand through his chocolate tresses. 

You and Jungkook are leaving the day after tomorrow. Most of your stuff is packed and ready to go, and you’re currently spending the rest of your night at a sit-down dinner with your immediate family plus Jimin. 

It’s peaceful, you muse. Jungkook even offered to help cook. Back at Big Hit not once did he ever bring leftovers from home, always insisting you order something for him during work. Kimchi fried rice is a simple dish, but Jungkook had taken great care in making sure it was cooked properly and adjusted to your family’s tastes. 

Your parents are glowing and enjoying their time with the whole family, a rarity that grows more valuable with age. The meal soothes you like a balm, reminding you of old conversations that had you spew milk out of your nose or Namjoon accidentally spilling beans on your lap. 

“Oh, you should also clear your schedule for the first week of September,” Jimin says absentmindedly, shoving another mouthful of fried rice. “Besides Easter, Jungkook says we can celebrate his birthday and visit for the weekend.” 

“Seriously,” Namjoon balks, sitting up straight as he regards you in disbelief. “You’re sure your Devil of a boss will enjoy you out of his chains for two vacations, god forbid you take the holidays off again.” 

The grip on your fork tightens, but you steel yourself. Honestly, you were wondering why it took Namjoon this long to let it all out. He was always vehemently against your job, as he was the person who got the brunt of your vents when you were stressed. Probably for the sake of Christmas he let it go, but now that it’s over, the topic’s fair game. 

“Oh, c’mon Joonie,” your mother frowns, “not at the table.” 

“He isn’t that bad, Joon.” you reason, completely ignoring Jungkook as you stare straight at your brother. “He means well—”

“Means well?” Namjoon barks a laugh, as if it’s the most laudable thing. “Sis, you cried everyday for a straight month after you were hired.” he places his hands on the table, regarding you carefully, “I had to personally call your doctor in New York to get you sleeping pills, and not to mention that two weeks ago, you were crying again because you were worried he forgot your vacation and would make you work! Don’t tell me he ‘means well’ when I’ve been busy picking up the pieces!” 

At this point, you’re livid. Jungkook’s right here, and while you can’t go ahead and out the fact that he is your boss, you can still have his back. 

They don’t know that you’ve picked the pieces back up, reinforced yourself to create a better version of the person you once were. 

“He does mean well,” you cry, matching your brother’s red tone to a T. “He’s just stressed and genuinely cares about the company. I choose to work long hours because he takes his time in making sure the work we publish is worthwhile, and I support that. He’s hard on me because he knows I have potential. He’s going to make sure I succeed.” 

Namjoon looks at you like you’ve grown two heads. “You’re seriously defending your shitty boss?” 

Jimin puts a hand over Namjoon’s in an attempt to placate him, but he shoves it away.

“Honestly,” Namjoon spits venom, “how can you possibly stand to be around someone who makes your life so miserable?” 

Your meal has gone cold, and your fists clutch desperately at your jeans. The breath is robbed from your lungs, and you can’t look at anyone for fear of them regarding you with guilt. You know since the day you got hired that your family wasn’t exactly enthused at your boss’ level of expectation and work output. But they don’t know the industry, and they don’t even really know Jungkook past the surface level. . 

But you know in their eyes, they’re right. Their daughter left their comfy home to pursue her lifelong dream, only for it to be broken in a matter of weeks. It’s natural to feel protective, and while you’re resilient and were able to get it together as of late, it wasn’t enough for them to understand. As someone who loves you, it’s obvious they’d want to blame your boss, blame Jungkook for your suffering. 

You imagine your father would ask Namjoon to step outside, or your parents would make Jimin pull you and Jungkook out. Neither of those things happen.

A warm, large hand is placed on top of yours. You look towards Jungkook, face unreadable as he squeezes your thigh. 

“Namjoon’s right.” Jungkook utters, pressing his lips together. “You deserve to be treated with respect. The boss has never appreciated the hard work you do, at least not out loud. You’re too good for him.”

“Jungkook,” you gape, putting your other hand over his. 

He pulls away at your touch, glancing at the clock. “This dinner was wonderful,” he says gently, looking apologetic to your parents. “Excuse me, but I promised to call my parents at this time.” 

The excuse is completely half-assed, but no one says anything as he leaves, walking out the door without a coat. The table is terse, with your parents attempting to coax out dessert while Jimin clears the dinner table. You refuse to look at Namjoon, who has no idea why you’re so upset. You wait five minutes before you mumble about getting Jungkook a jacket. 

However, when you open the door he isn’t sitting on the porch. He’s all the way up the street, too far for you to be heard with a yell, and walking farther into town. The black hoodie falls to your side, disappointed. 

Jungkook does in fact, call his parents. Your mother suggested it when she gave him the ring, thinking it would ease his homesickness if he made a better effort to communicate his feelings. 

And so he spends over an hour huddled in a cafe, talking about nothing and everything with his mom and dad. He tells them about the little novelties he’s experienced this week, like making popcorn strings and picking out themed Christmas ornaments. He tells him how he promises to book a flight back to Korea as soon as his work visa goes through. While he doesn’t mention the proposal, he mentions you. He prattles on and on about how strong and beautiful you are, and how you’ve crept up on him and made him realize how awful of a person he was. 

His mom prattles excitedly through the line, saying that women make you realize how much better you can be for them, but she doesn’t know the half of it. 

Jungkook sat there in your dining room, Namjoon boldly telling you off about how miserable he’s made you. 

And yet still, you defended him in ways he never imagined. Your relationship has always been mutual, and prickly at best. You balanced each other out, but he knows he doesn’t deserve you. When he first hired you, he rendered you indispensable like all the other assistants that couldn’t handle it. You’d break eventually. 

And you did break. But you picked up the pieces and put yourself back together, and you didn’t resent him for it. He hated that. How can you trust someone who’s hurt you so much? 

He can’t let you go through with this marriage. You’re wrong. You don’t need him to be successful. 

[11:09] You: mom unlocked the door for you. Jimin and i went out for drinks so idk when ill be back

[11:09] You: please don’t be mad at me

Silly girl, why would he ever be mad at you? 

His plan is simple, Sneak into your villa, grab his luggage, and try to book the earliest flight back to New York. Then, he can come clean to Taeyeon and spend the year in Korea while they work out his visa issues. He’ll quietly pack his things and clear out the office before Monday.  Hopefully by the time he makes it to Busan, he can forgive himself. He’s going to regret missing your expression when you get to hold the first physical copy of your novel. 

This plan proves difficult when he sees Namjoon waiting outside for him, sitting on his luggage and reading a book. His long legs are splayed across the porch, and he doesn’t spare Jungkook a glance.

“Knew something was off,” the older man doesn’t look up from his novel, “found the mug on her desk, bossman.” 

Muttering a curse under his breath Jungkook opens his arms, “Are you gonna beat me up now?” 

“What? No, I’m a lover, not a fighter.” Jungkook scoffs, and watches Namjoon roll his luggage to the back of the van. “And out of the kindness of my heart, I’ll save you the Lyft fare and drive you to the airport.” 

Is he that predictable? He flinches at the sudden jet of the ignition, and he takes heavy, snow-laden steps to the passenger seat. Once buckled in, Namjoon tosses the book in his lap. “Some light reading for the drive.” 

If Namjoon wasn’t the driver, he wouldn’t hesitate to chuck the book at his big, intelligent head. Instead, he glowers, clutching the book tightly. It’s only when they round the corner to a house brightly decorated with lights, does he see what novel Namjoon’s plucked. 

A Mutually-Assured Attachment. Jungkook tosses the book back and forth between his palms, noting the soft cover is so worn it could melt apart in his lap. It feels tended and loved from years of use. 

It’s Jungkook’s first novel, and you had a copy. One of the first editions, if he remembers the cover art correctly. Granted, he thought you had some of his books purely because of your job, but not one from your childhood. Frankly he thought this should have never been published, but he was nineteen and that in itself was a large feat. 

He carefully peels the pages, and takes out his phone to shine the flashlight mode. At the very front, blood red ink is scratched next to the title: “this is THE most pretentious title i’ve read in my life! Don’t disappoint me jeon!!” 

Your handwriting’s all over the place. He sees graphite, gel, and glitter pens mark the margins, as if you’ve come back each time to write something new. The annotations vary, from “this part sucks” to “shit, that’s good i should do that”. You draw little pictures of the objects he’s contrived, from the little brass locket one character cherishes to the facial expressions you imagine they hold. 

And at the very end, your handwriting sits neat and bold on the inside cover: I can do better than him. 

Jungkook chuckles to himself, turning off the light. You’re always right. 

Namjoon senses the younger one is done, and he clears his throat. “I really really don’t understand what she sees in you.” 

“I don’t understand either,” Jungkook agrees easily, his finger tracing your handwriting. He muses that you were always out to get him, even if you didn’t know it. 

Namjoon masks his surprise by clearing his throat. “But I’d rather seek to understand than live the rest of my life having my sister resent me. I don’t really know what you two are going through, but if she trusts you with her life, I’ll try. Emphasis on try.” 

“I don’t deserve your trust.” 

“You damn right you don’t,” succumbing to his impulses Namjoon makes a sharp turn, and Jungkook holds his stomach together before it flies out the window.  

You come home to find your room cold and barren. All of Jungkook’s things are gone, except your Christmas mug. 

You at least thought Jungkook would spare you a goodbye before he ditched you. You hoped you’d at least consider each other friends who provide explanations after all of this. 

Lifting the mug off the desk, you hear a little clink in the glass, the chime unfamiliar. Hurriedly, you pour out its contents. A heavy, tungsten black ring lands in your palm. You clench the metal between your fingers, hugging it to your chest. 

Mind made up, you dash out to the hallway, nearly bumping into your cousin. At the same time you and Jimin blurt, “We need to go to the airport.” 

Apparently Namjoon warned Jimin that something fishy’s going on. Namjoon didn’t know what, but he had the inkling that Jungkook was hiding something. Once Jimin received the text to meet them at the airport, he flung you in his sedan and floored it. Flushed with adrenaline, Jimin is speeding with a fervor you’ve never experienced. 

“Can you please, take the edge off and tell me what the hell is going on?” 

Just like how Jungkook didn’t want Big Hit to go down the drain, you didn’t want this week to be in vain. You can’t wait a year for Jungkook to come back, and you didn’t want to publish your first novel without him by your side. 

“Long version or short version?” 

“The in-the-middle version. I don’t think I have the brain capacity to absorb all your drama right now but I really need some answers.” 

“O-kay. Basically, Jungkook isn’t a Literary Agent. He’s my god-awful boss. Or was awful, I don’t know. Jungkook left the country before his work visa was fully processed. That’s a breach, so he needs to live in Korea for a year to come back. But he can’t run Big Hit remotely, so he proposed to marry me to attain citizenship.”

Your head whips to the dashboard and you cry out, barely stopping the impact with your hands.  

“Sorry, sorry!” Jimin’s eyes are focused on the red light, absolutely terrified. “Bitch, you’re committing fraud with your boss! You could go to jail, that’s like, the hottest love story ever!” 

“But he’s going back to Korea because now he suddenly realized he can forge basic human connection.” you mutter, “so no, we’re not going to jail because he’s decided to do the right thing.” 

“So what you’re saying is, Jungkook has achieved self-actualization and decided to peacefully move to Korea and sacrifice the company for you.” Jimin is carving his free hand in the air, gesturing wildly. “Don’t you see! He really likes you.”

“Yeah, so now we need to go to the airport and tell his dumbass this isn’t the time to be selfless.” 

Once you find a spot you’re rushing out of the car, weaving between carts and people to find the correct terminal. This airport is much smaller than JFK, so it’s easy for you to navigate and get past the TSA. It also helps that Jin’s wife is an attendant. 

“He chose the 1:45 flight in Terminal 31A,” Mijoo chirps from her tablet, leading you in the right direction. She’s dressed impeccably, the odds and ends of this airport glued together by her impeccable organization. She points to the clock, which glares a digital 1:18AM. “You have time.” 

“Thank you Mijoo,” you exhale gratefully, “and I’m so so sorry I skipped your wedding!” 

“This is the 300th time you’ve said it,” Mijoo rolls her eyes, pushing you and Jimin forward, “But I’ll make sure not to miss your wedding.” 

You’re sweating from your down jacket, and you can’t believe it’s really all come down to this. The one person you’ve spent the last two years of your life doting on, and you didn’t want to stop. You wanted him not just for the publication of your novel, but because you needed him. 

Jungkook’s sitting in the waiting area of Terminal 31A, looking wholly inconspicuous as he reads a book and has his hood propped up. 

Fists balled, you stride forward only to have Jimin tug you back. “What?” 

Jimin pulls off your thick coat, making haste to wipe the sweat off your brow with his sleeves and flatten your messy hair. “What?” he tilts his head to the side, “you need to look good before the big confrontation. I’m recording this for archival purposes. Do you have any lip balm by any chance? You look chapped.” 

You slap his hands away, but those grubby fingers just come back with a vengeance. “My life is just a big show to you, isn’t it?”

“Living vicariously all day, every day.” 

While Jimin parts your bangs, the intercom cuts through the air. 

“The 1:45 flight to John F. Kennedy International airport will now commence boarding. Please line up according to the ticket class.” 

Jimin smiles at you, squeezing your shoulders and gestures for you to go. To your horror, Jungkook is first in line. Panic bubbles to your throat.

“Jeon Jungkook!” you cry, voice echoing throughout the terminal. “If you so much breathe in the direction of that plane I will call Mark Lee right this second and tell him the book series is off!” 

Like a deer in the headlights, Jungkook heeds to your voice immediately. In his stupor you jog forward to snatch his wrist and pull him out of line. You don’t let go until you’re away from the long line, and Jungkook tugs his wrist away. 

“Don’t you dare call him,” Jungkook looks serious, as if you didn’t drive all the way to stop him from making the biggest mistake of his life. “I will never forgive you if you terminate Mark Lee’s contract.” 

“And I won’t forgive you if you get on that plane.” 

Pain flashes in his eyes, and he shakes his head. “I need to. I can’t let us—let you go through with this. You and your family deserve better.” 

“What? Jungkook, I agreed to this just as much as you did.” 

“No, you didn’t.” he’s adamant, and steps back with every step you take forward. “As your boss I threatened you, held it over your head like an ultimatum. I’ve hurt you,” his voice cracks, looking at you desperately, “why would you want to be stuck with me when I’ve made your life miserable?” 

“If I really wanted to leave, I would’ve done it a long time ago.” You reason, “Do you really want to leave the company behind? To fucking Karen?” 

“Of course I don’t!” Jungkook exclaims, “but it isn’t worth hurting you, hurting your family and everyone that loves you.” 

“And what about you? You’ll be hurt when you leave,” and you step forward, so close that your chests are touching. You take hold of his hands, clutching them between your small ones. “Don’t go, stay with me in New York. We’ll both work hard and try to not run each other to the ground. Let’s be better together.” 

You’re practically begging, biting your lip raw and hoping Jungkook understands how good this change is for the both of you. 

Jungkook is conflicted, looking back and forth between the airline boarding for JFK and your watery eyes. He hates seeing you like this. He can’t imagine you, the strongest woman he’s ever met, crying because of him. Namjoon’s voice echoes in his mind and he tries to smash it to the edge of his memory. But as always, you’re right. 

He replaces your grip with his own, and gets down on one knee. 

Jungkook says your name like it's the sweetest of songs. You’ve never seen him so terrified. “y/n, I didn’t do it right the first time, so let me try again. Please, marry me. Marry me because I want to date you. I want to take you out and give you what you deserve, what we deserve. I want to do better for myself, do better for you. I’ve realized you’re the only person that makes me feel like I’m simultaneously on fire and on thin ice,” he pulls out a velvet box from his pocket, revealing a thin band with interlocking black and clear diamond studs. It’s a pretty little thing, with a groove in the center so it stacks perfectly with your engagement ring. “This was supposed to be your Christmas present, but I chickened out at the last second,” he says sheepishly, tucking his head in. “But if you let me put this ring on your finger, I promise to be your home away from home.”  

With a sob you fall to your knees, throwing yourself onto Jungkook. A small “oof” escapes his lips, and he struggles to hold your waist so you both don’t topple over. “Yes, yes, yes!” you cry, pulling away to cup his face with both hands, pulling him into a sweet kiss. 

Jungkook’s smile takes up his entire face, and he eagerly pecks your lips one more time before ripping the ring from its holder and stacking it on top of your engagement ring. The teardrop diamond is nestled perfectly between the thinner band’s V. “Pretty,” he says, pressing his forehead to yours. 

“Wait,” you pull out the black ring that you found in your room, holding it to his face. “I’m assuming this is yours?” 

“Yeah,” he replies, “your mother said it was your great grandfather’s. It’s not an engagement ring, but it’s the thought that counts.” 

“It matches,” you hum, placing his simpler band in his ring finger. Once it’s on, you take a deep breath. “Shit, we’re really doing this?” 

Jungkook pulls you to stand, wiping the happy tears from your cheek. “We are, we’re a team, remember? We’ve crossed the line and we gotta finish it.” 

And he picks you up, the workouts definitely paying off as he spins you around like you’re the leads in La-La Land, drunk off the happy chemicals firing in your brain. Jimin whoops and hollers, along with all the other patrons in the vicinity of the airport terminal. 

Your real-fiancé puts you down, the both of you now hyperconscious of the stares people give you. Other people have filmed the proposal as well, completely smitten by your confessions. 

“Jungkook,” you giggle into his shoulder, “you were right. Our story is straight out of a Wattpad entry.” 

“Down to the super cheesy in-public airport proposal?” he chimes, pressing his forehead to yours. “Couldn’t have asked for a better love story.” 

“I can’t wait to fall in love with you,” you whisper, quiet enough for his ears only, “for real, this time.” 

“Not that it’s a challenge,” he teases softly, “but I’m already halfway there.” 

some months later.

“Like the new office, boss lady?” your new assistant (yes, you have an assistant!) asks kindly, his bubbly presence uplifting you immediately. He leads you to the window box, filled with tiny plants. “I figured you like succulents, because you have no time to water them and they’re prickly like you.” 

“Very funny, Seungkwan.” you chide good-naturedly, picking up a succulent with a yellow flower in the middle. “But thank you, your interior design skills are outmatched. I can’t wait to work with you.” 

“Me too, your social commentary you published on the literary industry? And you managed to lace it all up in an inconspicuous fantasy novel?” Seungkwan boasts, “I applied for this position right then and there.” 

“Thanks Seungkwan, why don’t you take your lunch and we’ll meet back at one to discuss our plans for next week.” 

“Sounds good, do you want me to pick you up something?” 

“I’m good, I’m meeting with the bossman.” 

Seungkwan gives you that look, his lips jutting out in a suggestive manner that almost makes you burst into giggles. Your assistant decides not to bother you until after you’ve eaten, and bids you goodbye. 

Just when you get a moment of peace, a handsome face pokes his way inside. “Hello editor,” Jungkook knocks on your door for the sake of attention, but you’re already dragging him into the office and shutting the door tight. “Like your new office?” 

“Love it,” you moan, gesturing to Seungkwan’s light filtering curtains. They’re not dark, rather a tasteful sea green, but they’re opaque enough to stop wandering eyes from peeking into your space. Your personal space was a qualm that immediately needed to be mended after your experience in Jungkook’s office. “A lot more private than your office.” 

“A little part of me hates how much you deserve this promotion,” he sits on your desk, and doesn’t hesitate to pull you between his legs, letting you lean into his chest, “but I do love the added privacy.” 

You fiddle with the buttons of his navy collar, his strong thighs trap you between him, “Why, miss me already?” 

He shrugs, “Taehyung doesn’t look as good as you do in a pencil skirt.” 

You laugh, brushing the strands of hair that fall from his coiff. “No one looks as good as I do in a pencil skirt.” A firm grip confirms that, two strong hands cupping your backside. “Mr. Jeon!” you gasp playfully, pushing him away slightly to pinch his cheeky grin. “Can we save this for later? I’m hungry, but we can always continue this for dessert.” 

He groans in your neck, “Love the sound of that, Mrs. Jeon.” 

bonus.

“FUUUCCCKKKKKK YEEAAHHHHH!” Park Jimin’s voice bounces off the walls of Taeyeon’s office, his face taking up the entire screen of his desktop as the camera shifts harshly between him and you and Jungkook at the airport. “My cousin’s not going to jail! WOO!” 

Taeyeon pauses the YouTube video at a particularly unflattering screencap: Jimin’s nostrils are flaring wildly and he looks fairly high mid-scream. 

A low whistle escapes Jungkook’s lips, “Wow. That video’s viral,” he looks to you appreciatively, “if Jimin kicks off his YouTube career, you think we can milk a memoir outta him?” 

“Potentially,” you reply nonchalantly, playing with your rings. 

“So,” Taeyeon’s voice is icy, slashing between your casual conversation, “you’re getting married, for real this time?” 

“Yep,” Jungkook pops. 

“Alright,” and from her desk she pulls out an ungodly stack of documents, one that mirrors your own back at the office. “Jungkook, you’ll stay with me. y/n, you’ll go to Vernon’s office and he’ll give you the same spiel. We’ll interview you privately with the same questions. A hair out of place and you’re in trouble. You sure you want to go through with this?” 

You and Jungkook exchange looks, betting your own company that you got this in the bag. 

“Hit us with your best shot.” 

[tyonfs]

I posted 1,316 times in 2022

983 posts created (75%)

333 posts reblogged (25%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@tyonfs

@jaemtens

@nctsworld

@chenleyah

@baekhyuns-lipchain

I tagged 1,240 of my posts in 2022

Only 6% of my posts had no tags

#asks - 674 posts

#anon - 473 posts

#tyonfs asks - 184 posts

#fic: besties (gone sexual) - 148 posts

#series: bitch hunters - 125 posts

#fic: and they were roommates - 76 posts

#fic: fight club - 60 posts

#fic: cherry girl! - 51 posts

#fic: netflix and chill - 49 posts

#the brightest star 💫 - 43 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#the denim jacket .. i want an au where jaemin takes u to the fair and lets u wear his denim jacket while ur trying to win a stuffed animal

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

high-waisted shorts

❝ i noticed you staring at my ass earlier, by the way. do you want me to get my shorts out of the way so you can get a better look? ❞

PAIRING ▸ huang renjun x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ smut, fluff, crack, college au, strangers to lovers au

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, alcohol consumption, sexual tension, teasing, dirty talk, one night stand trope, fingering, palming, oral (fem. receiving), more oral (m. receiving), choking, raw sex (pls use protection), in this society we make important decisions with rock paper scissors, copious amounts of anime references, ft. jaemin, hyuck, and jeno tormenting poor renjun

SUMMARY ▸ huang renjun might be the least committed to all this “bitch hunting” bullshit, and he doesn’t want to stoop to the level of stupidity his friends are at. that’s why he’s pissed when you’re strutting around in those high waisted shorts wherever you go, making renjun lose all sense of reason.

PLAYLIST ▸ like by bts • cravin by danileigh, g-eazy • 23 by chase atlantic • sparkle by radwimps

WORD COUNT ▸ 7,850 words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ first installment of the bitch hunters series !! wrote this while i was angry bc my discord got hacked and i was furiously typing LOL but hope u enjoy ♡

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2,977 notes - Posted May 26, 2022

#4

netflix and chill

❝ you’ve been eye-fucking me all night, and i was starting to think you weren’t gonna get around to the chill part of netflix and chill. ❞

PAIRING ▸ lee jeno x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ smut, fluff, crack, college au, strangers to lovers au

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, smut, couch sex, wall sex, shower sex, fingering, dry humping, lots of teasing!! and some degradation and praise, oral (fem. receiving), choking, size kink, bulge kink, hyuck is insufferable, i’m sorry this is pure filth, despite the warnings there are fluffy moments

SUMMARY ▸ lee jeno doesn’t want to give up the carefree life of a single man, not tied down by emotional entanglements and commitments. that is, until he sees you smacking a man twice your size with a stack of engineering paper. he kind of falls in love, so jeno does what any normal person does and invites you over to netflix and chill.

PLAYLIST ▸ long way 2 go by cassie • sour grapes by le sserafim • foreshadow by enhypen • lucid dream by aespa

WORD COUNT ▸ 10,087 words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ hello hello! i went awol for a tiny bit but im back and i really hope you guys enjoy this !! shoutout to the ice cream sandwich that kept me awake to finish this. second installment of the bitch hunters series ♡ 

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4,340 notes - Posted July 12, 2022

#3

fight club

❝ i don’t care if she has a pretty face; if this is your first night at fight club, you have to fight.❞

PAIRING ▸ lee jeno x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ smut, fluff, fight club au, rich kid au, college au, strangers to lovers

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, violent themes (fighting), mentions of blood, 7dream are all part of the fight club, ft. best friends karina and sungchan, sneaking around, fingering, strength/size kink, oral (fem. receiving), choking, sex ofc, lowkey corruption kink, also i swear jeno is soft

SUMMARY ▸ after park jisung introduces you to his shady after-school activity, you realize it’s far too dangerous to be involved with the underground fight club in any way. their members are rough around the edges—except for lee jeno, who keeps you coming back for more.

PLAYLIST ▸ atm by j. cole • baby don’t stop by nct u • new axis by nct u • nate growing up by labyrinth

WORD COUNT ▸ 11,914 words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ WOOO ITS FINALLY OUT i hope you guys like it and lmk what u think !! ♡ remember when this was supposed to be 5k words LOL + another note and the tag list is at the bottom (sorry i forgot to respond to yall in the comments but i think i got everyone!) and thank you again for all the love :’)

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4,569 notes - Posted March 3, 2022

#2

bitch hunters

huang renjun, lee jeno, lee donghyuck, and na jaemin are determined to have girlfriends by the end of their college years, but that’s easier said than done when they’re known as the biggest players on campus.

GENRES ▸ smut, fluff, crack, college au

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, sexual content (smut), alcohol consumption 

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ hello !! welcome to my nct dream 00 line series that i’m super hyped for !! since i never did anything for my 1k followers milestone.... or 2k.... or 3k.... or 4k.... consider this my 5k milestone ♡ these are going to be like mini fics (around 5k??) so it’s a refreshing break from the long fics :’) the stories are loosely connected but you don’t have to read in order. send me an ask or comment to be added to the tag list! thank you for reading & i hope you enjoy!!

COMPLETED ▸ november 27th, 2022

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5,164 notes - Posted April 11, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

cherry girl!

❝ i think it’s about time i show you how good i can make you feel. ❞

PAIRING ▸ na jaemin x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ smut, fluff, crack, college au, gamer au (twitch streamer!jaemin), friends to lovers, fuckboy au, friends with benefits au, a little bit of angst

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, sexting, dirty talk, corruption kink, the classic “teaching them to fuck” trope, fingering, oral (f. and m. receiving), dry humping, praise, mc is very innocent, jaemin being a cocky loser (somewhat endearing?), jealous jaemin is a dick, sneaking around, slight exhibitionism, mutual pining

SUMMARY ▸ virginity is a social construct, so it’s not like na jaemin had to know you were a pure, untouched maiden. okay, so maybe you should’ve told him that before he was knuckles-deep inside you.

or, in which progressing from best friends to best friends with benefits is hard, especially when you both have feelings for each other.

PLAYLIST ▸ know now by nct u • fuck up the friendship by leah kate • often by the weeknd • double take by dhruv

WORD COUNT ▸ 16722 words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ I’VE BEEN SO EXCITED TO RELEASE THIS i hope yall enjoy and lmk what u think !! ♡ tag list is at the bottom and a big thank you to everyone who asked to be part of it!

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5,465 notes - Posted January 2, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[mxvladdy]

heyy i just read your fic Case of the Munchies on ao3 and im Loving it!!!! its amazing!! i was wonder if youre accepting requests and if you haven’t done it could you write the same for the rest: mammon, levi, satan, belphi, dia, barbatos and smth for simeon and luke (ofc platonic) like how angles have a true form and that means they can never relax around mc and how solomon has so much power at his fingertips he can just snap and end them or smth like that? pretty please and thank you!!!!

A/N: Of Course! Of Course! I already did Mammon and Levi HERE so I’ll do the other four in this request! You sent me a lot of good ideas and I’ll sprinkle them out into other requests soon!

Hope you like it!!

Case of the Munchies prt 3!

Word Count: 4.2k

Characters: Satan, Belphie, Diavolo, Barbatos

TW: Mentions of eating and cook humans, very mild gore

Satan

As the only full-blooded demon of the seven, he has thought about it...just hypothetically of course. When you were new to the Devildom he did find your scent more appetizing than the others. It’s a good thing he has the most restraint and control of all his kin, especially when it comes to his more base urges.

He doesn’t hide this knowledge from you. It’s readily available in the library and his own room in the history books. He just won’t bring it up. So if you don’t say anything, he won’t either. What would he say anyway? “Yes, I’ve thought about it, up until it was outlawed it was a staple of our diet after all…” Ye, probably not the best thing to say.

When you finally brought it up he was exasperated. Did you have to bring it up during the few hours he had alone with himself? He wasn’t going to lie but the thought of hurting your feelings would just about do him in.

He will alleviate your worries if you have any. If Satan was anything, he was genuine.

Mini Fic

His wine curdles in his stomach, turning sour along with the take-out he had nabbed for the two of you to enjoy tonight. Drinks and dinner were becoming a staple in your T.V. night tradition. If one of you had had a rough day you would drop by your favorite shop of the hour and pick up a meal to share while you vent.

Today in particular had been a shit day for him. Failed experiment after failed experiment, and one bottle that didn’t explode on impact with the potion he dropped. Sigh. At least your comforting words soothed his wounded pride a little. You chuckle at his escapades glad to see he is not hurt at least. It was nice to have someone to see the humor in something that normally would have dampened his mood.

“You’re a pest.” He laughs at you while snapping his takeout chopsticks in half to use. “I need sympathy-hours of work wasted.” You snort into your own bowl of udon.

“You need words of praise like Beel needs another stomach.” Satan gasps in mock insult pointing a sauce stained chopstick at you.

“How dare you insult your host! After I toiled over this meal of-” What did he get exactly? Honestly, when he placed the order he was near boiling with rage at his careless fumble. It was to be a surprise for you, something to give you a bit of magic while supervised by himself. He knew how frustrated you were with your lack of magical ability in class so he wanted to gift you something grand. Now he has to wait months to try again.

Ah, well...nothing ventured nothing gained as they say.

You watch him sulk over his soup dumplings, his mile away from the comfort of your company and his room. “Come on blondie.” You poke him with your foot before burying them under his pajama-clad thighs on the couch. “Eat your ‘hard earned’ meal before I do.” You snatch up his D.D.D forgetting your own food for a moment to set up your favorite streaming service to cast to his small T.V. “Want to watch a bunch of humans fail miserably at baking?”

"I thought you would never ask."

Satan feels you stiffen in his arms two hours into your bake-off marathon. Your takeout boxes are cold and forgotten on his coffee table, a bottle of wine gone between the two of you. He glances down at you curious.

You were transfixed on the screen. The novice baker on screen was struggling to keep his monstrosity of a cake upright. It was the annual Halloween episode and this fool went for a Silence of the Lambs inspired cake. A good concept really, but very poorly executed. The fake body parts and sugar blood weighted the pastry down dangerously. If he were, to be frank, the cake was also tacky as hell. Heh, he'd have to try to make this for Lucifer.

"Does his abuse of the piping gun offend you that much?" He jokes wrapping an arm around you.

Your laugh is breathy and lacks its usual warmth. "It is excessive isn't it?" You look up at him. "Hey, Satan-have you ever eaten people before?"

"Uhh…" Great, how eloquent. This came out of nowhere, did Lucifer set you up to this? No-no you wouldn’t. Would you hate him if you knew? “I have.” He admits through clenched teeth waiting for your reaction.

“Didn’t Diavolo ban it?” He can tell you are doing the mental math in your head.

He chuckles dryly. “Well, you never asked if I did it legally.” You move away from his touch and pause the show. “I mean...I did it legally! ” His mouth runs freely, his brain screaming at him to shut up.

“Satan.” You cross your arms unimpressed.

“It was a new law and I never meant to eat it for the most part. It was at a time where I was still struggling to control myself.” Young and stupid as Lucifer had said defending him every step of the way when he would slip up. Was it sold on the black market now? Yes. Did he know how to get it? Sure, but he would never nor would he tell you about it either.

You nod thinking about his words. “I can empathize.” Oh, thank the Devil. “Have you thought of eating me?”Ahhh. “Oh my God, you have.” You chuck a pillow at him with a laugh.

He catches the pillow and clutches it to his fiery hot face. “Everyone did at first!” If he was going down then he was going to take every one of his brothers down with him. “I wasn’t going to act on it! It was a spur of the moment-why are you laughing!”

“Sorry, sorry.” You wipe at the tears in your eyes wishing you had your phone to take a picture of his blushing face. “I kind of figured you did.”

Satan looks at you incredulously. “Shouldn’t you be a bit more torn up over this?”

You shrug. “After everything we’ve been through? I admit it was a shock to think at first but I mean, you would have done it by now right?”

“Well, thank you?” He flops back on the couch, still clutching the pillow to act as a barrier between you two. He’ll take it as a compliment.

You scoot close, nudging his knee with yours. “You ok?” He nods. “Can I touch you?” He nods again eagerly. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and squeeze. “Sorry, I made you uncomfortable.”

Satan chuckled, dropping the pillow to hug you back. “It’s ok.” He peaks your forehead. “Now, with that out of the way. Shall we finish this?” He swipes up his phone to hit play. You nod, flinging your legs over him to snuggle closer. “Good, I’m dying to know how he tries to save that thing. I’m putting money on icing.”

“You know.” You break the silence once more, unable to stop yourself. “I wouldn’t be opposed to being eaten...in some ways.”

Belphegor

After your first *ahem* encounter, he doesn’t bring up the whole food thing. He is afraid that if you learned about it, it would be the last strike for you and his relationship. Perhaps it’s paranoia on his part but better safe than sorry.

In all honesty, he didn’t eat it that much anyway. Killing humans was something he did often in his youth as a demon. A stupid attempt at revenge on his part. It filled the holes in his hearts to hurt those he believed killed his sister.

But to eat their flesh? Disgusting. He tried it a few times and it turned his stomach with every mouthful. He just hated them too much to even stomach them. He’s mellowed out with time but still never got a taste for it.

When you asked it was a shock but welcomed in a way. Like he could finally get this weight off his shoulders every time he looked at you.

Mini Fic

“It’s gross.” Belphie yawns, jumping up to sit on the high garden wall. He bends down to help you up placing you gently next to himself. The wind catches you by surprise threatening to topple you back from the wall before he rights you. He tosses his sweater over you with a nod of satisfaction.

You snuggle into the fleece lining burying your nose into the fabric. It smelled of elderberries and honeysuckles. Belphie watches you curl up into his side with a fond smile. “Seriously, you all are nasty.”

“Ouch!” You push his shoulder with a grin. “I feel like I should be offended on behalf of all humans.”

Belphie snorts, looking up into the bright colors of the night sky. “Good. Be offended. You, humans, are slimy.” You squawk indignantly. “It’s true, never in all my years would I willingly ingest it.” He shudders theatrically.

“Rude.”

“Shouldn’t you be happy? Lest I eat you?” He growls playfully, taking a swipe at you. He pulls you close to kiss the pout off your face. He stops only when your face is hot and your smile threatens to pull a muscle. “I’ll keep you safe, always.” He vows resting his chin on your head.

“Do you think other demons would try to eat me?”

“Have you met my twin?” He teases. He takes your jab to his ribs with a smile. “But if one of those lesser demons even tries to breathe in your direction I’ll kill them.”

“Ok, Mister sleeps till dinner.” You joke. His vow warms your heart a little, chasing away the small bit of fear that had rested itself in your chest. You saw how some demons looked at you at R.A.D, the longing and hungry looks got to be a bit much sometimes. A few older demons would discuss it loudly when they knew you were close by. Apparently, it was a long standing tradition of demons eating humans both body and soul when a pact was concluded.

Imagine what those brothers would do to them…

You shake your head hugging Belphie closer. You had nothing but his word that he would keep you safe, yet that was enough for you. Besides, he wasn’t one to follow the rules even at the best of times.

“I’m serious. You're off limits for everyone.”

You nod into his shirt, closing your eyes to enjoy the peace of the moment. “I’ll hold you to it.”

Diavolo

It is so far from his mind that when you say something it is like a rug was taken out from under him. He could be diplomatic about it, but you deserve better than a half-truth.

He was a wild child in his youth. Sometimes he would overindulge in his father’s heritage and gorge himself on his newfound powers and privilege. He would dine with the elders and eat with abandon under their proud eyes.

He regrets it now, in your company it brings up a slurry of emotions. Sometimes when he looks at you he sees flashes of his past behavior.

The urge is stronger in him than the brothers, a constant nagging tug in his guts, but he is strong. Stronger both in willpower and sheer physical prowess than them so the pull is more of an annoyance than a burning need. He can temper the hunger in other ways if need be *wink*

He fears what you might think of him if you ever found out the truth, but however you take it he will handle it in stride. He loves you too much not to.

Mini Fic

Dinners, when Diavolo could eat alone, were a rare and special treat. The solace of just being allowed to exist without constantly checking his posture or presentation was a blessing, just him, his thoughts, and a good meal. It was nice to have no paperwork to worry about staining this time or a tedious meeting where he couldn’t savor his meal. No, no this was good. He looks down at his heavily laden plate and smiles. Well, almost… Pulling out his phone he snaps a quick picture and sends it to you with a simple question. Join me?

Private meals were wonderful, but with you, they were perfect.

You arrive faster than he expected, flushed face and clutching a stitch in your side from rushing over. He almost felt bad before he saw the eager look in your eyes. Barbatos helps you with your school bags and coat before placing another plate of food across from the young lord. He winks at the prince before disappearing back through the door.

“Thank you for the invite!” You beam taking your seat across from him. “I hope you don’t mind that I'm not dressed for the occasion. I was just wrapping up a study session with the boys.” You look down at your rumpled lounge clothes.

Diavolo waved his hand disregarding your concerns. “I would emulate you if I had the time.” He looks at his own pressed school uniform. He had another meeting this evening, much to his distaste. “You look rather comfortable.” You smile in delight before tucking into your own plate.

You eat in a comfortable silence reading the room well enough to tell that he wished for some company but not needless chitter-chatter. Barbatos arrived moments after you put your fork down and left with the plate leaving behind a delicious smelling hot drink. You couldn’t put your finger on the flavor but it tastes spicy like cinnamon and coats your throat like warm honey.

Whatever was in the drink seemed to work some magic on the prince. His shoulder droop, his back sinking into the chair as his legs stretch out till they are close to brushing against yours. He starts talking over the drink, eyes slowly lighting up with delight. You drink, nodding along with him as he builds up steam. It was nice to see him so unguarded and light. You listen to him talk about simple innocent topics. You knew how he tried to have these conversations with the others to no avail. The brother’s always tried to stay clear of him, and Lucifer simply dismissed these things most days. Barbatos and the angels were a bit better but still listened mostly to placate him.

“Ah!” Diavolo stops mid-sentence as his door opens once more Barbatos holding a small platter in his gloved hand. Dia claps his hands in delight. “I’ve been wanting to have you try this with me for forever. The human palate is so different, but I hope this is tasty.”

“What is it?” You eye the covered plate curiously.

Dia says a word in infernal. It is harsh and guttural in his throat but his delight was evident in his tone. “It is like...a roasted nut? Sorry, it is difficult to explain but it has been a favorite treat of mine since I was a boy. I hope you like it too.” He opens the lid with little ceremony and tilts the bowl to you. Inside were several golfball sized pods piled on top of each other. Even from across the table you could feel the molten heat radiating from the porous black shell. It looked...ugly. Like a hunk of dried lava. You eye it suspiciously as Diavolo picks one up with his bare hands and bits it. The shell cracks under his sharp teeth, a fang catching in a weak spot with a noise that makes you shiver. Underneath the thick casing, you could see a dark red and fleshy core. He hums in delight pulling put the meat of the seed and discard the shell pieces onto an empty plate. He makes quick work of the innards already reaching for another by the time you casually pick up a seed.

The seed itself was dense and warm to the touch. You squeeze it, noting that the porous coating felt like a mass of steel in your hand. “Dia-how do I open it?” No way you could bite it, not without breaking your jaw in the process.

“Allow me.” He takes it from you and effortlessly cracks it. “It is a tradition to break them with teeth, instead of hands or utensils. Something about a show of strength. I just find it fun.” He shrugs, handing you the broken seed.

“Fun!” You marvel at his pearly fangs. “Those are some big chompers.”

“All the better to eat you with my dear.” He chuckles.

You blink in shock, eyes widening. “Would you? Eat me?”

Diavolo’s smile drops. “No.” He lies on reflex, his political nature kicking in. “No-no wait.” He shakes his head. “I...at a time would have without hesitation.” He feels you recoil. “It was common practice back in the day. To the common demon it was a great meal and for the ruling class a show. He looks down at the broken fragments of shell on his plate. Breaking the shell was far too reminiscent of other things. He squashes the unwanted wave of memories coming up. Instead, he looks up at you.

You sit quietly mulling over his words. You haven’t run yet. “Why did you stop?”

He leans back with a loud exhale. Why did he stop? There were many reasons, none he wished to divulge into at the moment, but he had to say something. “I grew up, and began to resent and regret it.” He used to read human stories of demons and his kind. They hurt their characterizations of him and his people. Yet, they had all been scarily accurate. He wanted to prove that they weren’t stagnating beasts, slaves to their desires. Even if it wasn't a popular opinion.

“I see.” You pick up the seed again. “Thank you for telling me. You didn’t have to.”

“But I wanted to, and to apologize… such admissions must have ruined your appetite. If you wish to retire-”

“Is it weird if it didn’t?” You cut him off. You felt-not apathetic to the knowledge but close to it. It confirmed a lot of things for you and put certain things in perspective. You still felt safe with him even with this new bit of knowledge. Without a second thought, you pop the treat into your mouth. You gasp in delight. The flavor and texture were not what you were expecting, but was delicious all the same. “Can you open another for me?” You push your plate over to him.

“Of course!”

The food was as wonderful as his company.

Barbatos

You knew he cooked it. He probably knows a million different ways to prepare a human. He is also very blunt about his dabblings in the market.

He doesn’t eat it, hasn’t ever. He sees no reason to, especially since he doesn’t need to eat anyway there is no temptation. He did find the meals he created beautiful though.

Once he lived for the praises of the courts and his young lord. He was a master at all mediums he cared to work with. Time, decorum, or of the flesh.

He is 100% unashamed of his past with the dark side of the Devildom’s history. In fact, he is damn near proud of it. He is a demon and it was a part of his life, if that frightens you, well there is nothing he can do about it.

He’ll entertain your questions and will try to put any lingering worries at ease. Just don’t expect to be coddled when he does.

Mini Fic

Barbatos had very few personal pleasures in his life. His schedule simply didn’t have the space for such things. So why even bother looking for a pastime. It wasn’t until Diavolo gifted him with an old worn cookbook did he find it.

Cooking was a necessity for his prince, but with that little book, it became something he looked forward to doing. Slowly, he began to seek them out, filling his growing quarters with cookbooks and loose-leaf slips of paper. He enjoys reading them. Each book was a little time capsule into the cook's life and memories. Could a mix of spices really remind someone of the arid heat of their motherland? Or does following a certain way of aging meat really honor the writer's late grandfather’s memory? He tries them all, each recipe a little invasion to a happier time.

He wrote his fair share of cookbooks too in his day. Simple modifications to things the young lord liked to the odd machinations of his own imagination. He got good at experimenting with flavors and textures over the years, mastering certain cooking techniques and flavors just for fun. He didn’t share many of them, a lot of his recipes were just too complicated for most. Luke was allowed to look at his pastry books only. The little cherub was enamored with his techniques and wanted to learn as much as he could in the short amount of time he was in the Devildom. Admirable, but he made sure to keep some of his...less savory books away from the boy. He shudders to think what Simeon would do if he scarred the young angel.

You are the only one who has full access to his collections. Whether you liked to cook was inconsequential to him. He simply enjoyed sharing this interest with you. Some nights you would take it upon yourself to be his “sous-chef”. Which meant you sat in the corner of the kitchen and read out the ingredients and steps for a recipe he knew by heart. Sometimes you would add in extra steps in an attempt to stump it. Cute...but ultimately failed each time. So, most nights when you tagged along to the kitchens you just flip through his collection, reading his immaculate scribblings crammed into the corners of the pages or where he scratched out certain ingredients for more demon-appropriate foods and more sustainable options.

You had gone through many beautiful books before you found it. The cookbook was small and inconspicuous compared to most. Just a simple black cover with a well-worn spine. What made you take notice of it was just how dusty it was. That wasn’t like him to do. Barbatos would never let something get so dirty. You wished you never had opened it. You weren’t stupid by any means, but after reading a few pretty graphic recipes it had unsettled you. So you withdrew from Barbatos trying to forget about the book tucked away deep in the bowels of your school bag.

“You’ve been distant.” You choke, hand flying up to your chest as you swear your heart skipped a beat. Damn demon. Should put a bell on him. “What’s wrong?” His eyes are piercing, cutting away at your feeble defenses.

“Nothing…” You fiddle with your bag’s strap. Your eyes drop to the floor taking in the differences between his polished shoes and your scuffed boots.

“Of course not…” You could hear the skepticism in his voice. “I trust that if there was something wrong you would feel safe enough to confide in me.” His words hit like a ton of bricks on your shoulders. He sighs seeing that his words got no reaction. “Please?”

Wordlessly you rummage in your bag and thrust the book into his chest. “Sorry. It shook me up more than I thought it would.”

Ah. He knew this book all too well. For a time it had been his favorite, one to pull out with Diavolo had guests or a deal that needed to be sealed. He accepts the book, noting how much your hands shook. “I understand.” He slips the book into his breast pocket making a mental note to hide it in one of his lesser used rooms. “Would you like to discuss this? In my room perhaps?” You follow with a timid nod.

“Where shall we begin?” Barbatos asks the moment he closes the door to his room.

“You don’t seem perturbed.” You frown. Barbatos shrugs, pulling the book out and opening it. He had a lot of good memories stored here. Some of these were still considered signature dishes, oftentimes a visiting dignitary would lament to him about the good old days when he could show off his craft when flesh was plentiful. He takes pride in that still to this day even. For as much as he loved you, he would not be ashamed of this.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” You shake your head when he says as much. “It just confused me. Do-do you see me as food?”

“I never saw humans as food, no more than I see demons or angels as it.” He picks at an imaginary bit of lent from his pant leg. “As for seeing you as food no. No matter how sweet your lips are, or how honeyed your words can be.” He smiles, taking impish delight in your squirming. “I merely did my job as a butler for my lord.”

“Oh- sorry for not coming to you sooner.” You felt foolish now. Barbatos waves it off, pleased to have this issue put aside so quickly and cleanly. “Wait-" You gasp as his words finally sink in. “Have you prepared angels before?”

He flashes you a mischievous smile putting a single finger up to his lips. “Perhaps~ do you wish to read that too?”

[oddaodd]

· For Ages ·

Summary: Y/n falls for her lifelong friend, Tommy. 

Warnings: SPOILERS for season 2 and all next seasons, mentions of smut, death and alcohol.

Author’s note: Wooooo first fic of 2021! Happy new year everyone, I wish you all the loveliest of years! ✨❤️

·

Tommy and her had been friends for ages, they had always been each others rock. The moment y/n had laid eyes on him she knew he was her person. When Tommy left for war she spent endless nights crying over his absence and when he came back she spent endless nights in his bedroom because talking to her helped keep the shovels at bay. 

But much to y/n’s dismay they never did more than talking. You see, she had been harboring a secret From Tommy. One she doubted would ever share with him. She had fallen for him. 

Grace’s arrival in Birmingham made y/n burry her secret even deeper into her soul. She cherished Tommy too much to loose him over an unwanted sentimental confession. Y/n saw how happy the Irish barmaid made Tommy and she didn’t want to keep him from that happiness. He needed that happiness. Having that in mind she decided to let things play out, not too worried about the outcome because after all, she expected Grace to leave after a while. 

But then Tommy told her he was marrying Grace. 

What do you think?” He asked. She was the only person whose opinion mattered to him. 

“I-I think it’s great” she lied through a fake smile “I’m happy for you Tommy”  

There was a heavy silence that y/n feared allowed Tommy to tell just how she was feeling. 

“I have news too” she continued “Im going to Hertfordshire” 

“Why?” 

“I’ve been needing some country air” 

And so before the wedding Y/n left. The county air did do her good. She knew it would be unbearable to see the love of her life married to another and each time she thought of Tommy she went and took long walks on the many flower fields that surrounded her property. 

She got news of Grace’s passing and was tempted to return to Birmingham, but she didn’t know if she could face Tommy so she just wrote him a letter. Days and months passed and she was convinced she would spend the rest of her life in the old country state, but then she got a black hand and shortly after, a call from Tommy urging her to go back to Birmingham. Apparently the Changrettas  knew she used to be awfully close to the family.  

She arrived in Birmingham and was surprised to see a broken family. She could tell Tommy was hurting and though she tried to comfort him all Tommy did was push her away. 

One night a knock called Y/n to her door. She opened it, seeing who she expected to see behind it and invited him in. That night they talked like they hadn’t in years and Y/n felt a sense of belonging she hadn’t felt in ages. The alcohol started working its magic, Tommy began smiling at things y/n said, which he hadn’t done in ages. He knew it was partly because of the alcohol in his system but also he couldn’t not attribute a great part of his improved mood to y/n’s presence.  Y/n too became giddy and happy And with each sip she took from her glass she felt the chains that prevented her thoughts to traveling at how much she yearned for Tommy loosen. She wanted terribly to feel his lips pressed against her and his body on hers. 

“Y/n?” Tommy’s voice broke her thoughts. Apparently she had been staring at him intently enough for a drunk him to notice.  

“What?” She asked sobering up slightly. 

But Thomas didn’t speak again, his eyes were fixated on her lips and in the blink of an eye he was kissing her. He half expected her to push him away but she matched his need and force to the nail. 

The line y/n had drawn ages ago that she knew she shouldn’t cross in order to not jeopardize their friendship got painted over by Tommy’s touch and caresses. 

Her old bedroom became witness to her old fantasy from ages ago coming true. When their ecstatic breathings came back to normal y/n once again fixated her glance on Tommy who fixated his to her ceiling, a billion of thoughts crossing through his mind. The alcohol effect was wearing off which forced him to overthink what had just happened between them. 

Y/n tenderly placed a cold hand on his cheek prompting him to look at her. Her touch  seemed to startle him. Was he ready for it after Grace’s ? She noticed the doubt on his features and pulled her hand away “Sorry” 

“I have to get going” he mumbled standing up and getting dressed. 

Y/n looked at him in bewilderment . She wanted to ask him to stay but decided against it, curling into her bedsheets after she heard the sound of her door closing shut. 

The next morning she awoke with an aching heart and and anxious mind. Had what happened between them burnt the bond they shared? Knowing that the vendetta was bad enough she decided to not let her feelings show. 

Tommy grew guilty as he Painfully saw her fake smile at him whoever their eyes met for the following days. He wanted to tell her everything, he wanted to make it right, but he found his words lacking. Instead he too concealed his true emotions behind. 

Things went back to “normal” after a week or so. They would talk and sometimes drink together, but they never talked about what had happened in y/n’s old room. 

When the vendetta came to an end y/n found herself walking towards Charlie’s yard, the place had always provided her with an odd sense of comfort, like a warm blanket on a cold winter day. 

She sat on a box by the edge of the cut and let out a sigh. It was finally over. She began thinking of all the times she and Tommy had sat together on that very spot and contemplated life. All times that seemed long gone. 

And then as if by conjuring, the sound of Tommy’s boots walking on the gravel hit y/n’s ears. They grew closer and closer and y/n’s heart Began beating faster and faster. He sat next to her and produced his cigarette case and lighter from his coat. Offering her one and lighting it before his, both of them entering a peaceful silence. Tommy wasn’t a man of words but the fact that he was there with her told her he felt guilty. 

“Remember how we used to hide here when we were kids?” Came Tommy’s voice. 

Y/n glanced at him with a melancholy air and smiled sadly “And John used to get so upset that we never told him where our secret hiding spot was” 

“Yeah” Tommy began as Y/n let her head rest on his shoulder “he spent hours whining to Polly begging her to make me tell him” 

Y/n chuckled and Tommy felt his emotions stir at her movements “I could hear his tantrums from my house” 

It felt strange, talking about John. Raw, recent and intimate. It was the first time Tommy spoke about him since his death. He didn’t like it. Y/n took a look at him and saw conflict in his face. 

“Are you going back to Hertfordshire? He asked, abruptly changing the subject as he felt her eyes on him. 

She took one last long drag of her cigarette before putting it out and fixing her glance to the murky waters of the cut “I’m not sure” 

“Stay”  

“Why?” She blurted out. Taunting him like that felt dangerous, even after everything.

“I want you to stay” he confessed very shorty after y/n finished her question. 

Y/n turned back to look at him. Her eyes full of vulnerability and unspoken pleas. Tommy took his hand and caressed her cheek. An action that caused a small, almost unnoticeable gasp escape her lips. He began slowly inching closer to her lips, giving her time to back away if she didn’t want his touch, but she stayed perfectly still until she felt his lips pressing against hers. Her arms flung to his shoulders pulling him closer to her, he could never be too close. 

She felt her heart about to burst as the kiss deepened. Maybe it was the lack of alcohol that enhanced the feeling of Tommy’s tongue against hers, or maybe it was just because it was him, her Tommy from ages ago. 

She parted from his lips briefly and before kissing him again breathed “I’m not going anywhere”. 

·

@captivatedbycillianmurphy @peakyxtommy @nyotamalfoy

[santigarcia]

fly away with you

an ezra x reader fic~

rating: m for smut; virgin reader; some violence 

word count: 6,780

summary: Waking  up with no memory after a head injury, you find yourself in the presence of your rescuer - a handsome stranger named Ezra. 

a/n: I AM SO SORRY i’ve had this fic like...finished but i just never got around to posting it. i had it broken up in chapters, but i just decided to post them all here w/ breaks to signify where the chapter would have ended. (im also adding the first two parts - so if anything seems familiar this is why!) 

Ringing. There’s a loud ringing in your ears. Your vision is blurry, and that ringing won’t stop. You can’t hear anything else, and you’re not sure what you’re seeing. The color brown and green seem to blur together. What happened? Did you hit your head?

Reaching up to touch your temple, you feel wet. Your hair having been matted down with something sticky. Pulling your hand away, you look at it. Not that it does any good because your vision is still blurred. But there’s enough red on your fingertips to know it is blood.

Suddenly you smell it, your blood. And dirt. And earth.

Something else is mixed in, maybe smoke? Something in the air is foul.

The air.

You panic. Where’s your helmet? How long have you been breathing in this air? It’s the air you smell that’s foul. What if it’s toxic? Frantically you try to get up, but you can barely get your legs under you. You’re still too dizzy.

When your vision finally clears, you see your helmet on the ground next to you. There’s a large crack leading to a hole. Shards are everywhere. Some have blood on them, and you assume this is where your head injury is from. But upon further inspection, you see blood on the rock nearest you.

What happened?

It’s still foggy, but you try and retrace your steps from the day.

You had been with your cousin, whose whereabouts now you have no idea. It wasn’t even your choice to come along. But he claimed that your hands were the steadiest, and you’d be best for the harvesting. You had no idea what he was even talking about. You only agreed because your home world is the last place you want to be right now. And hey, he said he’d pay you so why not?

The ship ride over was a nightmare. It was smooth sailing quite frankly, but you’ve never been a fan of space travel. You like it on the ground. Though at the present moment the ground is covered in your blood, what a day it’s been. And you can barely remember it.

You do remember harvesting a couple of those things, you can’t even think to remember what your cousin called them. It wasn’t easy but it wasn’t hard either. You did just fine.

You also remember some arguing? Something was happening? There were these other people?

It’s starting to come back to you, but this air is getting to you. How long have you been walking? Are you even going in the right direction? You feel dizzy again and things are starting to spiral.

Then everything goes black.

A voice this time brings you out of your stupor. You can’t make out what they’re saying, but you can make out it’s a male voice. It’s not your cousin, this voice has a thick accent.

You blink several times to clear your vision again, and you take in your surroundings and this stranger.

First you notice you’re inside laying on a cot of some sort. Everything in the room is an olive green. An ugly yellow light shines overhead. It’s very dim. The space is small, it seems to be a large tent. There’s medical supplies and strange photographs on the wall. Where is this?

The man is sitting near you in a metal folding chair. He’s got no choice but to sit close to you, there’s not any room in this area.

He’s in a suit not unlike your own. His face is kind. His voice is deep, but nonthreatening. Light scruff dusts his cheeks and jaw, and his eyes are pleasant. There’s a small blond streak in his brown hair. And a haggard scar on his cheek. His kind eyes and kind smile almost seem out of place next to that scar.

He’s still talking, but you can’t make out what he’s saying. He’s gesturing with his hand. Just one. It’s only then you realize he’s missing his right arm. You feel dizzy again. What if this man is dangerous? Or did he just lose that arm in some accident?

You reach up to touch your temple again, and you feel cloth. A bandage has been wrapped around your head. And you notice, other than a slight headache, you’re not in any pain.

“Where am I?” you wonder aloud. Your throat is so dry your voice croaks.

“At last, the lady is with us!” the man speaks and this time you understand him. His voice sounds nice. That accent is so strong. “Alas, I must admit, I myself do not know where this is. But I was out and about on my harvest when I saw you lyin’ unconscious on the ground. You were gaspin’ for air. So, I took it upon myself to bring you to shelter and here we are.” he gestures with his arm while he looks around the room. That ugly yellow light shines on his face, and suddenly the light is not so ugly on his tan skin.

“Thank you,” you tell him sitting up a little. You’re still feeling dizzy, but you feel safe. “What happened?” you think aloud again. And where is your cousin?

“I heard what sounded like gunfire off in the distance,” he explains, “that’s how I came to find you.”

“I was with my cousin; did you see anyone?”

“I am afraid I only saw some bodies, miss. You were the only one I saw alive.”

Your cousin, and whoever attacked you must have been near where you first woke up. But in your daze, you started walking and missed the bodies entirely.

You were warned this was dangerous work. Sniffling, you wipe your nose with the back of your hand. Grief and shock are setting in. Your cousin is gone, and your harvest.

“I’m stuck here,” you whisper.

“Nonsense,” the man smiles, it’s a warm smile. He seems so kind. You want to trust him. You may have no other choice. “I could not in good conscience leave you behind. You have suffered a mighty fine wound to your noggin, and your poor lungs have breathed in this nasty shit air we got around here.”

He is talking so fast that you can barely keep up.

“Now, I’m sure you’re a-wonderin’ if you can trust me. And right now, little birdie, I’m all you’ve got.”

In any other situation, if a stranger called you a pet name, you might recoil. But he says things so casually, you don’t feel any malice or perversion behind it.

“You can help me harvest, and I can get you outta here. There is my offer plain and simple. You can surely decline, but if your cousin is gone, my condolences. And you have no way to get home.”

Home. You don’t want to go home. You don’t want to stay here, but you don’t want to go home.

“What’s that?” he leans forward, his eyes squinting. He’s trying to hear; you didn’t realize you’ve just said that out loud. “Where are you from?”

“Zulara,” you mumble.

He winces, clenching his teeth, “I do not blame you one bit for not wantin’ to head on back to that planet. I am currently residin’ on Anvarvis V, and I’d be glad to take you along with me.”

You sit for a moment weighing your options. You’ve heard good things about Anvarvis V. or was it IV?

“We’ll split the harvest 50/50?” you ask.

He nods.

“Ok. It’s a deal,” you nod and stick out your hand.

“Alright,” he grins. “I’m Ezra, what can I call you?”

 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 And that’s how you began a partnership with Ezra. You worked well together. Tuns out you were really good at the harvesting part, and Ezra’s wit and charm made him a good salesman. He brokered deals and sold the product you’d harvested for a lot of money.

You’ve been so busy; you’ve not even gone to his home planet yet. But somehow you liked this life with him. There’s space enough of his ship for you, and you quite enjoy his company.

Truth be told you enjoy his company more and more each passing day. Your cheeks warm now when he calls you “little bird.” Your heart leaps into your throat if he ever touches you.

That first week with him he touched you a lot. Yes, okay he was checking the bandage on your head, but his fingers would graze skin and he was standing so close to you.

That’s when it first started you think. Being so close, seeing his soft lips surrounded by a dark stubble. His gentle brown eyes looking over your wound.

Maybe you were just lonely. Or maybe it was sharing such a small space with your rescuer. But you had a crush that only seemed to grow.

It started to suffocate you being so close to him and not being his.

The two of you fell into a natural routine and you grew accustomed to seeing him shirtless. That first time seeing him without a shirt almost sent you over. You ached to touch his olive skin. He looked so warm. You had to force yourself not to stare.

He thought you were looking at his right shoulder, where his arm used to be. And he began to ramble on about how it happened. You were embarrassed because that’s not what you were looking at, but you listened to his story all the same. He was opening up to you.

Ezra has the gift of gab, and he talks nonstop. But if you ever have anything to say, he listens with a deep interest. You’ve never felt so heard before. He never talks over you. His constant talking if often stories or little tidbits of trivia, but after that night of him opening up about his arm, things changed.

He was almost always in a good mood, but when he couldn’t complete a task due to his arm, he’d be a little grumpy and frustrated. But after telling you what happened, he let you help him without protest.

Maybe he got the feeling he could trust you back.

“Thank you, little bird,” he always said. And the last time he said it, you know he saw your cheeks turn red.

You figure at some point he’ll ask, or you’ll admit your feelings. You’re not sure which, but both options scare you. You’ve never done this before.

Back at home, you spent most of your life in school or working. There was no time for relationships, as much as you wanted one. You read stories of lovers, you kept them hidden under your mattress. The want was there, but no experience to fulfill that big question in your mind of what it’s like.

What it feels like to be loved by someone, to be held. You always were a little shy about the sexual parts of the book, yet those were the parts you couldn’t tear your eyes away from.

“What are you thinking about over there?” Ezra’s voice cuts in. A deep blush stains your cheeks. You’d been remembering of a story you’d read where a man pleasures a woman with his mouth. You look at Ezra’s mouth and feel your stomach drop and pray he can’t read your mind.

“Nothing,” you chirp at being caught.

“From that look on your face, I’m gonna wager a gamble and say it’s definitely something clanking around in that head.”

Scrambling, you try to think of anything to change the subject. He’s watching you squirm, and he’s delighted in it. Maybe it won’t be too hard after all to tell him if he can already see it.

“When’s the next sell?” you ask, nibbling the skin off your bottom lip.

“Pretty soon,” he replies. “I will head out soon. Won’t be gone long. Will you be alright to wait here until I make a triumphant return?” he grins.

You nod, returning his smile. You feel a heat pooling in between your legs. You shift a little in your seat trying to relieve the pressure. As soon as he’s gone, you’ll do something about it.

Two nights ago, you touched yourself thinking of him. That was the first time. You’d seen his bare ass when he was exiting the shower area. He had to have known you might see, and you couldn’t decide which thought thrilled you more. But the image of him naked was seared into your mind. And that night while he slept soundly, you touched yourself - wishing it were him.

You’d come up with a dirty fantasy, one you will play out again as soon as he leaves. And he can’t leave soon enough.

Normally, you’d go with him. But this buyer is a familiar one and can be trusted. You’re not worried about Ezra taking care of himself in a fight. He’s been in plenty of a scrap or two.

But if you’re honest, your brain is so clouded with the thought of getting a release you’re not worried about him in the slightest.

The thought passes in your mind you don’t know how long he’ll be gone, so you elect to leave your pants on. You lay down on your bed in your little corner of the ship.

The main hanger is around room, your beds are on opposite walls but still in the same room. So, you can see his bed from yours, and you consider going over to his bed, but you’ve already got your hand down your pants thinking about him on your bed.

You begin to tease yourself and you’re already wet from your own imagination. You think of him naked. What he looks like from the front. What he must look like when he’s hard for you. You think of his lips, and how his hand feels. What they must feel like on sensitive skin. You think of his stubble scraping your thighs. How good his long thick fingers would feel like inside of you. How he’d be gentle taking you for the first time.

Your thighs shake and you clench around your fingers wishing it were him.

The release hits you hard, and you gasp. It echoes through the ship. Your breathing is heavy but beginning to calm, when suddenly you hear:

“Well hello there little birdie!”

 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 Horror floods through your veins and your heart is pounding in your head. You’re still coming down from your high, while fear spikes within you. Your eyes are wide, and you’re frozen staring at him. Your mouth is hanging open, and his mouth is curved in a playful smirk. 

When tears begin to fall from your eyes, his expression softens completely. 

“Little bird, I-,” he sticks his hand out trying to demonstrate he didn’t mean to embarrass you, but it’s too late. Tears pouring down your cheeks you run into the bathroom chamber and push the button to close the door harshly. It hisses loudly, and the moment it closes you sink to the floor. Cheeks red with embarrassment. 

In those books you’ve read, maybe the character wouldn’t have cared. And would have let the man know what she was doing. But this just isn’t how you wanted this to happen. As much as you do want Ezra to know you want him. The shock of the moment startled you. 

Ezra outside in the main hangar is uncharacteristically quiet. You can hear him rummaging around. From the sound of it, he’s taking off the bulky outer suit. It takes him a moment since he only has the help of one arm. 

He’ll be sitting down on his bunk and unfasten the clips and zippers. He grits his teeth sometimes, other times he bites his lower lip. You tease him about the different faces he makes when he’s concentrating on something. 

Deciding to clear your mind further, you turn on the shower. For a moment you hope he doesn’t need to take one after being outside, but you imagine he’s letting you have your space for a moment. 

While you shower, you try to decide what you’re even going to say. 

“Hi Ezra, I was touching myself thinking about you.” 

Well. That might not be a bad way to start. But that feeling of nerves hits your gut. What if he doesn’t want you back? What if he does want you? 

You mull this over in your mind and wash yourself clean. Normally the thought of being naked in here while he’s out there has sent you a thrill. Now you’re even more aware of him. 

You decide you do want him. But you don’t know where to start. Him seeing you is one way to break the ice. 

Gathering your courage, you wrap a towel around yourself and exit the bathroom into the main hanger. Your eyes fix upon him, and every nerve is on fire. 

As expected, he’d changed out of his suit. He’s sitting on his cot in comfortable pants, a worn black Henley, and some socks. His hair is sweaty, but it’s sticking up in multiple directions from obviously running a hand through it. His right arm sleeve is tied in a knot near his shoulder to stay out of his way. He’s got something propped up on his left knee, and he’s practicing his hand strength with his left hand. He pauses when he sees you, he doesn’t speak. 

He’s waiting for you to say something first. He can read the terror in your eyes as you step closer. Giving you full attention, he frees his hand, and watches you approach him slowly. 

When you’re right in front of his spread legs, he reaches out a hand to grab yours. 

“You doin’ alright there little bird? You are tremblin’ like a leaf on a tree with strong winds blowin’ every which way.” 

You open your mouth trying to think of what to say. You’d forgotten your entire plan you’d cooked up in the shower. Now that you’re here in front of him and he’s looking at you with those soft eyes, your mind is blank. 

You almost wonder if you should just drop the towel and climb on him, but you can’t help but want some romancing. 

“Say what’s on your mind little bird, I see the wheels turning in your head.” 

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” is all you can think to say. But are you sorry? You don’t know what’s going on. 

“I’m not,” he grins, but the grin softens, and his eyes are gentle. He stands and presses his palm to your cheek. Shaking a little from the touch, you lean into his hand. “But I am sorry that my presence startled you so, and that I saw such an intimate act without your permission. I admit I was only present for the uh, grand finale as it were, but on my honor, I will not speak of this again if you would prefer it.” 

Your cheeks darkened as he spoke, and you can see the look in his eyes. It’s a gentle attraction. 

“I-” you start but only blush deeper under his gentle gaze. His eyes are big, he’s listening intently. 

“I understand your profound embarrassment, but there is nothing to be ashamed of seeking a fine release such as that. If I may say little bird, I’m only sorry I was not the one to give it to you.” 

Your eyes widen at the last sentence. You swallow hard. 

This is it. 

“You want me?”

“I do little bird. I have for a quite a spell now. You are, simply put, the sweetest thing I have ever had the pleasure to know, and you have brought a light into my dark life I did not know I was needin’.” 

His hand is still on your face, his thumb brushes you bottom lip. 

“I want you too,” you give him a shy smile which he returns, “only I don’t know what I’m doing.” 

“You surely seemed to know a few moments ago,” he winks. 

“Ezra,” you groan and bury your face in his shoulder. 

“My sincerest apologies,” he teases, “I already broke my promise.” 

He’s trying to make you laugh, which it does. And the two of you share a moment of laughter before you pull back to look up at him again. 

“I’m serious though, Ezra. I don’t know how to do this. I’ve never-”

“Never what?” he repeats, thumb rubbing your flushed cheeks. 

“I’ve never even been kissed,” you tell him. 

“Well, little bird. It would seem the honor has been bestowed to me to teach you the lovely ways of liplockin’.” 

“What do I do?” you whisper, which he seems to find amusing. 

“You know something, I have never once been in situation quite like this in my lifetime.” 

That coaxes a smile from you, and you’re already feeling relaxed. 

“I can’t say that I have either,” you laugh. 

“First step, is to close those pretty little eyes of yours.” 

You close your eyes, and smile, you trust him. You think back to when you met him all those weeks ago when he saved your life. You certainly didn’t imagine this happening then. 

“Now, tilt your head just a little,” he pushes a little with his hand guiding you. “And open that mouth of yours, just a smidge.” He pushes down your bottom lip with his thumb. 

His voice stops, and you feel his breath on your face. He smells like mint and sweat. You decide it’s a good smell. 

You feel the tip of his nose first press against the top of your cheek. Then his lips gently press against yours. His tongue just barely touches your lips. His stubbly chin and upper lip scrape on your skin in a way you didn’t know you’d love this much. His hand holds your face gently, and what he doesn’t say, or can’t say during this kiss, is he wishes he could wrap his other arm around you. 

Your knees buckle, and you let go of the towel that’d you’d been holding on to so tight and mold your body to his. A strong thigh is in between your legs, your hands cup his face and you pull away gasping. Your heart is fluttering.

He’s slow to open his eyes, the smile splits his face before his eyelids even flutter open. 

“Now that,” he licks his lips, “was simply divine.” He leans in and places a couple quick pecks to your lips getting a laugh from you. 

You take a step back, and the towel is going to fall. And you were going to let it. But much to your surprise, his hand stops it by pressing his hand against your chest, keeping the cloth from exposing you to him. 

“Hold on now,” he breathes. “That little heart that’s fluttering under my hand has surely had enough excitement for one day. And as much as I would love to see that body of yours, I am not wanting to take you to bed in this dirty old ship. I would rather take you home. Since I am unfortunately missing a tool of the trade, I am not experienced in taking lovers into my bed with ol’ lefty here. It’ll be a learning experience for us both little bird. You alright with that?” 

You nod, putting your hand over his on your chest. 

“Then let’s get you home.” 

 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 Your head is pounding, and you can see him. Your cousin. It’s like you’re on the outside looking in. You see the clearing of trees and two men with your cousin. It’s a standoff, everyone is frozen. There you hear a sharp crack somewhere in the woods, causing the men to take fire. One man shoots your cousin, the other steals the harvest from your cousin’s dead hands. Then that man is shot, he killed his own partner and took the harvest from his hands. He turned around to face you, and you saw his face. 

It was Ezra. 

With a sharp gasp, you jolt awake. Sweat is on your brow, your heart is racing, and you feel sick to your stomach. Panic sets in because you can’t remember where you are. 

Looking around you realize that you’re home, with Ezra. 

After your kiss with him, he got the ship ready and punched in the coordinates to head home. His home, but now it would be yours. You expressed to him your apprehension of space travel, and he took down the med pack to give you a medicine to calm your nerves. 

“Fear of flying is not uncommon,” he’d told you warmly with a kiss on your cheek. 

After the flight and landing, he gave you another medicine to help your lungs adjust to the air of this planet. 

You were so nervous, but full of excitement! You have a new home with this wonderful soul. 

The planet is gorgeous. The ship landed out the outskirts of the city. It’s nighttime so you can see it’s all lit up, and it’s blue. Every light is a twinkling blue. 

“It’s beautiful!” you’d gasped. Ezra was proud to show you his home. 

He was not originally from this planet; this is where he lives now when he isn’t prospecting. 

He owns a small house is near the outskirts. He could afford a city apartment if he wanted, but he preferred living out away from the hustle and bustle of city life. He likes his view of the trees from his living room, which are also blue. 

His house is humble. One bedroom, one bathroom, a quaint kitchen, a small table, and a sitting area. The shelves and walls are covered in artifacts and trinkets from other world’s he’s visited. You love it. It feels like a lived-in home. 

“We will have to share this bed unless you want me to take the couch?” Ezra tells you when you collapse onto his bed. It’s been too long a day with all the space travel. 

“I don’t mind,” you tell him, and he grins easily. 

“No gettin’ to business tonight little bird. I gotta rest, you do too.” 

You nod, you’re too tired for that. Though if he wanted to, you wouldn’t have said no. 

You fell asleep that night with his body close to yours. 

He’s still close by when you wake up from your dream. 

“Little bird?” he asks waking up, rubbing his eyes with his hand. “You alright?” 

You scramble out of the bed to get away from him. Your heart is beating so fast. 

“It was YOU,” you gasp, tears are beginning to fall. 

“Me? Birdie, I do not have a damn idea what on this planet you are referring to.” 

“You shot and killed my cousin! I saw it in my dream!!”

He sits up and tries to calm you down. 

“Little birdie-”

“Stop calling me that!” you cry. You hug your arms around your waist. 

“Look at me. Look at my face.” He waits til you look at him, there’s no joke or smile on his face. His eyes are wide, and you can tell he’s upset you’re upset. “I did not kill him. I didn’t even have my gun with me when I found the bodies.” 

You think back to when you first met him, and what you can remember from then, he didn’t have a gun on him. 

“But it looked so real,” you sniffle. 

“I had hoped this would not happen to you, but one of the side effects of the medicine I had given you is nightmares. You’re on a new planet, in a new place. It would not be a surprise to me if you had weird dreams. Now as to your cousin, I do not think you will ever uncover the mystery of his death. I can recall to you what I saw again if it will ease your mind.” 

You sniffle again and nod. 

He tells you what he remembers, and you do trust him. But that dream still felt so real. 

You had been finishing up a harvest when your cousin went to look for another. Your memory is hazy after that. 

Ezra fills in the gaps based on what he saw. He’d seen two bodies; one was your cousin and then another man. Your harvest was gone, and there were footsteps leading in another direction. Ezra, not wanting to get into it with this guy, went the opposite way. Which is when he found your shattered helmet and blood. He followed your footprints which led him to you. 

“So, I killed my cousin,” you bury your face in your hands, sitting down on the bed. 

“You are making less and less sense,” his eyebrows crease. 

“You said there was a large branch and I must have tripped, so me tripping sounded the alarm causing the gunfire to go off,” you being to cry into your hands. 

Ezra scoots closer to you to wrap and arm around you. He holds you close to him and kisses your hair while he shushes you. 

“That was a whole tricky situation and no one’s fault. I have been in a sticky situation like that before and it would seem that people who are trigger happy need no cue to fire away. You are not at fault. Besides, if all this had not occurred, I might not have met the love of my life.” 

You look up from your hands, tears still in your eyes. 

“What?” 

“You heard what I said,” he kisses the shell of your ear. 

Crying now tears of joy, you throw your arms around his neck and kiss all over his face. He topples backwards, laughing the whole way down. 

“I love you too,” you say between kisses. “I’m sorry I accused you of murder,” you laugh. 

He laughs, rolling over so he’s on top of you. He kisses your face and dries your tears. You start to writhe under him when you feel him beginning to harden on your thigh. 

“What do you say to some breakfast and then we come back to this bed huh?” 

Feeling a little bold, you reach down to cup him through his sleep pants. He gasps out in surprise and buries his face in the crook of your neck. 

“Why leave?” you ask, unsure of what to do, but you like touching him. You continue to, until your stomach rumbles loudly. He raises an eyebrow teasing you, even though you still have your hand around his cock. “Fine,” you laugh, “breakfast first.” 

 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 While Ezra makes breakfast, you look around your new home. Since the house is small and his voice carries, you ask him questions about different objects, and he rambles on from the kitchen.

There are photographs of him when he was younger, those are your favorites. You’re looking at one particular photograph, when he had both arms and no blond streak. He looked like a completely different person.

Your thoughts are torn away when you hear him call your name.

“Could you reach that spice for me off the shelf?” His one hand is too busy to stop and reach. “Just set it down on the counter there,” he nods. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you smile and wrap your arms around him from behind. Kissing his cheek, he hums. “I’m sorry I’m acting so strange, I think I’m a little nervous,” you admit kissing his shoulder blade.

“Well birdie, it is no small feat to be joined in a union with another person in such an intimate fashion, especially when one is not experienced. It is a lovely thing but can be an overwhelmin’ experience. I am glad to assist and ease the knot in your belly of nerves.”

“I love the way you talk,” you smile kissing his shoulder again.

“And I quite love the way you are holdin’ me right now.”

“I’m sorry again about this morning. I’m sure that’s not the morning you had in mind.”

“No to worry. Grief and change do a wonder on your mind. I know that from losing my arm.”

“Tell me how you got that blond streak in your hair,” you murmur and lean your cheek against his shoulder.

“Now that is an interesting story!” One of which he tells for the rest of the morning. And when he’s done, you’re still not sure what exactly happened. But you laughed and all but forgot about the nerves in the pit of your stomach.

So much so that when he stands and reaches out his hand for you, you’re not sure what he’s doing.

“You ready?” he asks, motioning his head toward the bedroom. Your heart skips, but you nod, yes.

He leads you back into his room, and has you sit down on the bed. He moves around the room setting the mood. First, he pushes a button on the wall that lowers the curtains, dimming the room. He closes the door behind him and sits next to you on the bed.

“How does this work?” you ask a little timid, but very eager.

“Lay back,” he tells you. He lays down on top of you and begins to kiss your face and your lips. Anywhere his lips can kiss, he kisses. Your cheeks, your ears, your eyelids even. The tip of your nose.

Then he moves to your neck and chin and jaw. He adds some bites to your neck, and sucks on your clavicle.

“Can I?” he asks tugging on the hem of your shirt. You nod, and with his help, you pull it off exposing chest to him now. You swallow, feeling a little shy watching him eye your breasts.

You’ve never seen him so speechless. Instead of talking, he puts his mouth to use and suckles your perked nipple into his mouth. His hand cups your other breast and thumbs over your nipple. When you gasp, he sucks harder and pinches his fingers harder. Your hands fly to his hair and you pull. He growls a little and you feel slick between your legs.

“Ezra?” you whine. Your breast is shiny with his saliva, and there’s a sting left behind from his teeth and grit from his facial hair.

“What do you need birdie?” He murmurs into you flesh. His hand smoothing down your skin and gliding over your tummy and to the waistband of your pants.

“Ezra wait,” you gasp.

“Are my ministrations too fast for your likin’?” he questions, lips dragging along your stomach. He’s trying to make you laugh again, or at least relax you further.

“I-” you pause.

“It’s ok,” he smiles and kisses your tummy. “Help me?” he says tugging on your pants a little. You help him push your pants and underwear down, and you watch in equal parts arousal and embarrassment as he sees you.

He touches a pointer finger to your entrance, touching the slick gathered there. He dips inside and you arch your back feeling the drag of his finger inside. His thumb brushes your clit and you jolt.

“Now remember, I am not as well practiced with my left, so you’ll have to excuse any inexperience on my part, though I do know how to please a lady.”

“Ezra!” is all you can think to say when he slides a second finger in.

“But as it seems, you’re enjoying this regardless. That’s good,” he smiles and presses a loud kiss to your thigh. He doesn’t stop the toying with your clit. Even after you hit that first high and come around his fingers. He keeps going. Teasing you just a little more. “You are doin’ so well my girl,” he purrs.

He looks up at you when he pulls his hand away, his grin is pure lovesick. Your eyes are hazy from the high you’ve just been given, and there’s still more to come.

“I want just one more from you before we get down to it alright?” He tells you. He’s working his way up the bed, and you’re not sure what he’s doing. He pulls the pillows together, and he flops down on his back, his head on the pillows. “Alright little bird, c’mere,” he says and taps his chin.

Taking his meaning with heat covering your body, you climb up and carefully lower yourself onto his face. His tongue and mouth ready to accept your heat. You groan in unison as he makes the first lick. You’re still so sensitive from before, but wow it feels good.

Oh.

This is really good.

His mouth, of course, of course his mouth is as skilled in pleasure as it is in talking. His tongue moves expertly on your flesh as if he’s done this to you a million times. You’re coming on his tongue in mere minutes.

His arm is tight around you, and you buck against him as you come down.

His eyes open, and he looks up at you, he’s quite pleased with himself.

“Now if this isn’t the best view a man could have then I don’t know what is,” he smiles, his eyes lingering on your breasts for a beat, then back up to your face.

Carefully, on wobbly legs, you lay down on the bed, and Ezra works to take off his pants. You lean up to look at him, he’s on his knees now, naked. He’s stroking himself lazily, getting ready for you.

“Can I?” you sit up reaching for him.

“Be my guest,” he reassures, and you wrap your fingers around him. He winces and groans a little. “It has been far too long since I’ve been held but someone other than my own hand.”

He feels nice, and you have the desire to keep moving your hand until he finds his high. But he pushes your hand away.

“I do appreciate the eagerness, but if you keep that up, we won’t get to all the fun. Lay down for me alright?”

You do as he asks, and he pauses for a moment. He’s thinking.

When he gets the idea, you see it come across his face with a little “oh!” and a grin. He lays down on top of you, you’re chest to chest.

“Little birdie, I need you to wrap your legs around me? Got it?” You nod and do as he asks. From this position you can feel the tip of him at your entrance. Putting his weight on you for a moment, he reaches down between your bodies and lines himself up with you. “There might be a little bit of a pinch, but we’ll work ya through it alright?”

You nod again, and he pushes inside. He moves his hand back up to smooth your hair out of your face. He moves slowly, watching your face, kissing you more to get you relaxed. Once he’s fully inside, he waits.

He gives you a moment to breathe, then when you give the ok, he moves. His arm is up by your head now, keeping him from putting his whole weight on you and giving him some leverage. His thrusts are steady, and your body moves with him, gasping each time he hits that spot in you.

“It pains me that I cannot reach down to tease that lovely pussy of yours, but birdie, you gotta touch yourself for me. Can you do that?”

You slip your hand between your bodies and touch yourself in rhythm with his thrusts.

“Good girl,” he coaxes. “Don’t stop,” he tells you nibbling your ear. And you don’t. You keep going until you feel the high approaching. When it hits you, he’s not far behind. His cock twitches and pulses, and he comes deep inside you.

Exhaustion hits him and he puts more of his weight on you. Now with a free hand, he pushes your hand away and touches your clit again just to touch you a little one more time. That touch has you jolt, and he laughs darkly in your neck.

“Ezra?”

“Mmm?” he looks up at you, and you start to smooth his hair back.

“Can we do this again? Tonight?” you bite your lip.

“Hmm,” he pretends to think. “I’ll have to think about it.”

“Ezra!” you laugh and playfully hit his chest.

“Okie,” he shrugs and begins to blow raspberries on your chest.

You stay with him then, tangled in the sheets all morning. And all afternoon, and into the evening. You can barely keep your hands off one another. And there’s not much desire to go prospecting any time soon, not when you’ve discovered something much richer in each other.

xx

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[league-of-thots]

The Summoning

Pairing: dabi x reader x hawks

Word Count: 8.1k

Warnings: NONCON/DUBCON, blood play, dp, sacrificial summoning, mind manipulation, angels/demons/magic, gore, branding

A/N: So this was supposed to be a short little fic.... but thats not how it turned out, but im happy that it came out this way. I think its much better than what I originally had. Uh, please read the warnings because this has some things which could definitely be triggering.

thanks to @lady-bakuhoe, @ikinabi, and @marilla-eldriana for listening to me talk my ass off about it LMAO

other tags: @yaoyorozuwrites, @dee-madwriter

               You were beyond upset, tonight wasn’t supposed to be a night where you were heading into a bar on your own, dressed up for a date cut early, and freshly out of a relationship. As you sat down at the end of a rowdy bar, you can’t help the tears flowing out of your eyes. You’ve been holding them in for a while, trying not to break down in public, but sitting here with nothing else to do, you can’t stop the small sobs that break out.

               The bartender makes her way towards you, her lips turned down sadly as she starts cleaning up some glasses at the sink near you methodically. Your sobs die down as she starts speaking to you.

               “Rough night, sis?”

               “Yeah, you could say that again.”

               “Need something to drown it out?” you nod as she goes to grab some heavy liquid you can’t recognize. Whatever it is, it smells rank, you think as you lift the shot glass up towards your nose to sniff it.  You shoot it back, and shudder at the brief taste you get before you swallow it down, throat burning a bit as you let out a slight cough. She offers another with a gesture and you nod in response, quickly downing the second, and you nurse the third.

               Suddenly, a man in a raggedy black overcoat sits down beside you, raising a finger as he asks for some type of sake, and says “One for the crying mess, too.” In a raspy voice. You don’t even feel offended, it’s true, but he didn’t need to say it so harshly right in front of you. Although you wouldn’t say no to the free drink, as you quickly drained the one that you’d bought.

               “Thanks,” you mumble to him, the alcohol not really hitting you yet. You wipe the tears from your face. “What’s your name?”

               “Dabi.” He answers shortly, grabbing the sake and tipping it back, watching as you do the same. “You’re new here, but drinking like you’re about to be enlisted. What’s up?”

               Now normally, you wouldn’t be giving your life story to a random stranger who- quite frankly- looked like he belonged in a prison cell. However, normally you didn’t have four generous shots of heavy liquor coursing through your veins after having just broken up with your last boyfriend of just over a year.

               “Stupid asshat of a guy dumps me after over a year of being together for some stupid reason.” You sigh, head in your hands. “I don’t even get why? Like I was so blindsided and I feel like such a fucking idiot.”

               “Sounds like a real idiot,” Dabi replies, sliding you another drink which you eagerly accept, drinking it in a rage.

               “Like, fuck, I’m just not ready yet! Like, yeah if he was hard, I’d help him deal with it. But I just didn’t feel ready for sex, and he kept trying to force me, and when I get mad at that I’m the bad guy.” You’re starting to get a little dizzy, but at the moment, you’re so upset that you can’t really be bothered by it. You just want to be angry and heartbroken and drunk for a little while. So you don’t really have to face moving out of your shared apartment until later, tomorrow at the earliest.

                 “Was it a one-off thing? ‘Cause that’s a bit of an overreaction if that’s the case.” You’re so happy to have someone to vent too that you don’t notice the intent expression Dabi has on his face, you miss the way his body leans towards you eagerly waiting for an answer.

               “Well, no.” you shift a bit uncomfortable in your seat. “But he said he was fine with it! That he was alright with waiting.”

               “Well obviously he was lying. You must’ve been really stingy with sex.” You shouldn’t feel that hurt by a stranger’s words, especially when he has no idea about who you are and what your story was.

               “I just didn’t want my first time to be forced onto me.” You mumble, looking into your glass. You were starting to feel the dizziness from the rapidly consumed drinks. “I wasn’t ready for it.” You could feel the tears welling up again, not even bothering to try and stop them.

               “Makes sense. So, you’re a virgin then? And your boyfriend wanted to have sex and you didn’t so he broke up with you?” The odd phrasing of the questions didn’t even stand out to you.

               “Yes! Except he said it was fine and I believed him!” you wail out, you’re crying hard now into your arms that are lain on the bar top. You feel a hesitant hand patting your shoulder rather awkwardly, but his hand is really warm and you feel a bit better at the soft contact.

               “Sounds like a real idiot to me. You want another drink, doll?” he says softly into your ear. His breath tickles your neck a bit and you giggle a bit as you sway on your stool.

               “I don’t have the money! Ahaha… I’ve gotta save it now because I have to move out of the stupid apartment.”

               “Don’t worry, I have some money to spend. What better way to spend it than on a pretty girl, hmm?” You blush a little at the attention. His blue eyes are intense and you can’t keep eye contact for long with him.

               “I mean, if you’d like too, I won’t stop you.” You hum.

               “Alright then.” He gestures to the bartender, a dangerous grin on his face. You thought that you’d be spending the night alone, but you’re glad to have been proven wrong.

               The two of you nurse some drinks as you talk a bit, most of the talking done by you, the alcohol loosening your mouth as you tell him a lot of your time with your ex, and whatever random thought pops into your head. He doesn’t talk much, but it’s not really off-putting as he usually interjects with sarcastic one liners and small questions, nodding as you continue your stories.

               It’s getting later in the night and you’re blissfully drunk, unable to process the shitty feelings and how terrible you feel. Dabi seems to notice this and gets one of those grins he gets when you say how bad you want to fucking deck your ex in the face. It makes your heart beat in excitement.

               “You’ll do shots with me, right?” You nod, excited. Dabi orders six drinks, and you feel yourself tense in sudden apprehension. That’s a lot considering that you’d already drank a few… how many was it now? It doesn’t matter, you tell yourself. He seems to notice your hesitance though.

               “What? Can’t handle a few shots?” his smile is teasing, but his words are daring you to agree with him, and you bristle in response.

               “Of course I can!” part of you is screaming at you, telling you how bad of an idea this is, but its easy to drown out in the haze of your mind.

               “Good, you can try to keep up with me then.” He shoots down the first without even warning and you scramble to catch up with him, grabbing the glass sitting in front of you, and tossing the drink back. You’re coughing a bit, the harshness of the shot winning against your already weakened and sensitive throat. Boldly you grab the next and shoot it down as well.

               That might’ve been a mistake, because you splutter more, you can barely think, and you feel like you’re choking on the air you’re breathing in. Dabi’s face looks concerned as he asks you if you’re alright. You can only shake your head in response, knowing that you can’t possibly try to talk like this. He sees you swaying and clutching your now stomach as it rolls nauseatingly.

               “Don’t worry, this is on me, I thought she was alright with them.” He’s speaking to the bartender, who looks worried and a little suspicious given his appearance, but his voice sounds like its in the end of a long tunnel to you. You accept being pulled into his arms as he leads you outside for some fresh air, he’s produced a bottle of water, and opens it one handed before handing it to you.

               You try to thank him but that goes terribly, as you start dry heaving when you open your mouth. He has a sad, but un-surprised look on his face as he takes in your motions. If you were focused enough you probably would’ve said he looked satisfied, but that doesn’t make sense because he has no idea who you are.

               Suddenly, everything starts spinning and you vaguely feel Dabi place your arm over his shoulder. You close your eyes, desperate to try and stop yourself from vomiting all over the man who was trying to help you. It’s your main focus as you lean almost all of your weight onto him and drag your feet across the pavement. You don’t know where he’s taking you but you can barely think much less stop him and you continue to keep your eyes closed, not worried at all.

                  Dabi couldn’t believe his luck meeting you. He’d just finished the final touches on the circle, he was practically all set up except for the link, the sacrifice. Of course, he’d been planning to go into bars to find the perfect person for his ritual, but he didn’t think it would’ve happened so quickly! He’d expected it to take months, and what a relief it was that it hadn’t! He can barely contain his excitement as he keeps your form tight to his body.

               You were so naïve, so trusting, latching onto the first person that offered you kindness. Getting drunk on your own in a rather sketchy bar on a Saturday night, what had you been thinking? He knew you’d had a shitty day, but getting drunk at home surely would’ve been the superior option, anyone could see that.

               It’s a decent walk to his place unfortunately, he knows that the usual 20-minute walk will likely double with you barely able to stand, much less walk quickly. So, he sighs and reminds himself exactly why this is so important. Why he’s even bothering to ‘save’ your pathetic form.

               The runs and sigils are going to look fucking gorgeous carved into your body, he thinks, still dragging you along. You’re almost to the point of unconsciousness, he notices, and it might be easier for him if you were unconscious. At least then he wouldn’t have to be concerned for how he drags you. The pitiful whimpering noises are so annoying to listen to, so he moved slow enough that you could sort of drag yourself and not make those noises.

               Dabi keeps running through the steps in his head, the rituals, the incantations, and the carvings…. He knew he was a powerful castor. He could only hope that the practice he’d put in, the training he’d put in and the beautiful and pure sacrifice he’d found would be enough to actually summon Satan.

               He knows with the power boost he could finally rid the world of his wretched father. Could finally get rid of him and his stupid fucking followers and coven.

               He’d take them all. And he’d win, he knew it.

               He’s finally dragged you to his apartment, and at this point you’re barely conscious in his arms. Good, it would make the carvings so much easier with you unable to struggle. Plus, with the fact that the alcohol would cloud your senses so you’d feel less pain and make less noise. He wonders if you’re even going to understand what’s happening to you, if you’re going to cry out in fear and confusion. He can’t even lie, the idea of that makes him feel a warmth down in his core, makes him start to feel hard, god, he bets your screams will sound as pretty as you are.

               He has one of the only basement rooms in the apartment, the other two abandoned because of how cold and dirty it is down there, plus there was only cold water that ran down in the basement. However, it was secluded and quiet there, and that’s exactly what Dabi needed in a place. Somewhere where he could lay low while he bides his time, planning and training and waiting. He wasn’t originally a patient person, but he’d learned to be, and it was something that he was proud of.

               Luckily, he doesn’t have to explain to any of his upstairs neighbours why he’s dragging you across the lobby to the back set of stairs that only lead down to the concrete hall downstairs. He’s gotten a pretty large space in his basement room, especially with the way he’s completely emptied his living room. The couch is pushed against the wall, table and tv also against the wall leaving a large rug on the floor. The lucky part was that he didn’t ever have a ton of possessions, so it was rather easy for him to make the circle on the floor and cover it with a large goat-skin rug.

               He doesn’t have many chairs, only the ones at the small bar behind which his kitchen is located, so he tosses you onto the leather couch on your side in case you were to vomit. He can’t have you dying before he sacrifices you after all. He checks to make sure that you’re really out of it before he goes into his washroom to start cleaning himself and preparing his mind for the layers of spell he’s about to cast.

               He’s started clearing his mind as he walks into his room, crystals glistening even in the non-natural light, as he starts to slow his breathing in a rather deep and slow pattern. He feels himself start to go into a state he can only get into when he’s concentrating on magic. All his troubles seem to slip away as he steps into the warm running water. He keeps the sigils he’s going to be needing soon in mind as he washes away all the dirt and grime from the bar, washing away all the petty crime to get prepared for something far, far worse.

               When he’s towelled off, he puts on some cotton boxers, and soft grey pants, leaving himself shirtless in the chilling air. He feels the goosebumps start to creep up his arms as he grabs the old iron lighter, the only gift from his mother that he’d manage to take with him when he had to get out with his life after his father had found out what he’d done.

               You’re pretty much asleep on the couch when he comes out, and he looks over you, your innocent form, so fucking pleased at the sacrifice he’d managed to snatch. Turning away, he starts to take out some candles that he has stashed in the wooden chest beside his couch, the colours he uses going to be black, purple and red.

               After moving the carpet off, he places the candles in groups of three at the points and nodes of the circled star. Afterwards, he grabs the red chalk he has and starts to write the various Latin incantations around the circle. He ignores your soft snores, you seem to be mumbling something in your sleep, as he continues his work. It’s taking a lot more time than he’d like it to.

               But soon enough, he thinks, it’ll all be worth it.

                 You feel yourself lifted into the air, your head spinning even before you even open your eyes. Where are you? What’s happening? You try to open your eyes, but it’s so nauseating and disorienting seeing the dark room spinning around, you’re sure you’ve never been in before. You feel yourself lowered onto the ground, rather roughly. You keep your eyes closed trying to wait out the dizzy spell as you hear the click of a lighter, and you shudder, expecting to feel a sting of burning flames.

               But you don’t, and you hear the clicking a few more times. You start to feel a little more stable and you squint, trying to see what’s happening. You try and sit up, but you can’t with your dexterity hindered by the alcohol, and your wrists and ankles bound in ropes. You start to panic slightly, the last thing you can remember is accepting a few drinks from a man, Dabi wasn’t it?

               “Oh, you’re up. That’s good, you need to be conscious for this part.” Speak of the devil and there he shall appear. You feel a surge of fear as you turn your head towards the man.

               “What did you do? Why am I here?” you stumble, trying to cut through the fog in your head.

               “More like what did you do? Who goes out on their own in a sketchy part of town late at night? You were practically begging for something bad to happen to you.” You notice that he’s half naked and you shudder, remembering what you’d told him before and you get a terrible feeling in your gut.

               “No I wasn’t! I just wanted the night to not be complete shit!” You desperately search for anything in your reach that you could use to get yourself out of this situation. You can’t even roll away, you notice that there are iron pegs nailed into the ground and you are tied to those. You want to cry, you don’t know what you did to deserve this.

               “Well, you should’ve just stayed at home,” you hear a knife being pulled out of a holder, and in the corner of your eye you can see Dabi heating the blade against a large gas flame. It’s a twisted knife, the three sides a blue and black metal with a small skull on the end of the hilt. The metal is glowing red hot at the parts where it had been heated though.

               You squirm away from him as much as you can in your restraints when he kneels in front of you with the knife in his hand. “Stop fucking wiggling, It’ll hurt you more because I will nail you to the fucking floor if there’s a chance of me messing these up because of you.” You stop your motions, not wanting whatever’s coming to be made worse. So instead, you start screaming as loud as you can for help, the desperation in your tone evident.

               He just throws his head back in mad laughter at that. “Keep on screaming! I haven’t even started the fun bit yet baby! Nobody can hear you down here you know? It’s utterly fucking pointless for you to cry for help. But please go on, it makes me feel soooo good.”

               You feel your eyes widen in horror looking at the man’s face. He’s still oddly attractive, the flames giving his face sharper shadows, making him look almost inhuman. You’ve never wanted to disappear from someone’s gaze so badly before.

               You shudder as you feel his cold hand push you over and down on your stomach. How are you supposed to get out of there when you’re lying on your stomach with him pressing his weight into you.

               You are mid thought when the first lick of iron hot metal is brought onto your back. You cry out in surprise and pain, the knife tugging at your muscles and you can feel the ridges it has. Tears spring to your eyes, but it doesn’t seem to hurt as much as you would’ve thought, it must be all the alcohol still coursing its way through your system.

               You can’t focus on the words he’s murmuring as he continues to slice designs with purpose into your back. He laughs whenever you let out a vicious scream and you can’t see his face but you can tell he’s enjoying the process immensely.

               “Shirt’s getting in the way of the rest of it sweetheart, guess it’s time to take it off now.” He’s so smug which makes you feel humiliated as you press your head into the ground trying to put yourself together. You whimper as you feel your shirt lifted and hear the fabric tearing.

               You’re now shivering half naked on the cold concrete floor and starting to lose your grip on reality as the pain sends you drifting in and out of consciousness. You feel sharp pain as he starts designing up your spine, humming a bit as he goes. Why’d you have to meet a psychopath tonight? Wasn’t your luck just so shitty lately.

               You lose track of time as he works, you’re pretty sure that you lose consciousness for most of it, but luckily Dabi doesn’t wake you up for it. However, when you do come to, you notice how badly your throat hurts, you must’ve been screaming a lot for that to happen.

               “You ready for the front now? Then we can finally get the real thing started.”

               “Please, isn’t there enough? I don’t want anymore stop please! Just let me go.” You try pleading with him, knowing it’s probably not going to work. He doesn’t even deign you with response to your pathetic attempt. Instead he flips you over, your hands now positioned up above your head.

               Your limbs feel like lead, and you feel as if all your energy has been draining out of you along with the blood that’s come oozing out of your wounds. You can’t move, you’re stuck and all you can do is look at the man doing this to you and seethe in anger and hatred. His eyes seem to be burning with bright blue flames, but surely that must be you hallucinating? People’s eyes don’t glow.

               “Finally,” he breathes out as he leans back and admires his handiwork. He’s looking at you with blown open eyes, erection prominent and you can see the outline through his sweatpants. “Now it’s just to call him while I carve my name into your chest. You’re gonna spell it out for me, got that doll? Or else I can start working on the other bits of skin.”

               You just want it over with at this point, you’ll go along with his idea just so you can finally get out. “Fine.” You whisper, resigned to it at this point.

               “D.” He must’ve heated up the knife again, because it burns more than it did before and you scream your throat raw as he carves this much deeper that the other markings.

               “A!” you screech, hoping it ends soon, at least he has a short name.

               “B!” your voice cracks in your agony and your chest is aching.

               “I!” you sob, tears streaming down your face again as feel your body go completely limp as you succumb to darkness once again.

                 Dabi tries to get his breathing in control, looking at your broken and bleeding form. He’s never felt this aroused by someone, and he was right, your screams were like an orchestra playing the most beautiful music he’s ever heard.

               But that was a bonus. It was time for the summoning, and so it was time to focus and go through it. He slices his left palm, your blood mixing with his before he lets it spill over, mesmerized by how it drip, drip, drips onto the stained concrete. One last incantation that he has to say, and he hasn’t been this excited since he’d first found out he was a castor, and that he was a pretty powerful one at that.

               He waits anxiously in silence, eyes on you as more blood oozes from all the markings, there’s thin linking of red all around the cuts. He wishes that the sacrifice didn’t require a virgin because he desperately wanted to take it from you himself.

               Lost in his thoughts, the sudden burst of wind that erupts from the centre of the circle, from under your form blows out all the candles.

               “Well, aren’t you an ambitious one. Trying to summon Satan all on your own.” Dabi jerks around at the lilting voice from behind him, somehow, it’s both amused and condescending at the same time, and Dabi bristles at it.

               “You aren’t powerful enough to be him, I didn’t summon you.” His teeth are grinding in frustration.

               “So rude, and we’ve only just met! Look kid, you don’t have the power or the numbers to summon Satan right now, but I’m the highest-level under-creature you could get.” His eyes seem to glow gold in the darkness, they light up his sharp features.

               Dabi lets out a growl with a few curses. “Whatever, that doesn’t matter, I knew it was a long shot. You said you were the highest I could get. How high is that?” His grin is devious as he hears the question.

               “I’m Hawks, fallen angel at your service. As for how high I am? I’m in the 5th level range.” Dabi whistles at that. “So, does that mean you’re going to strike a deal with me? I haven’t gotten a serious one in a while. It’s getting seriously boring down there.”

               “You should be able to lend me the amount of firepower I’d need for it. What are your terms, and how does the transfer work in your deals?” he grins showing off his fangs a bit as he cages Dabi in a bit despite being shorter, wings making him seem much larger though.

               “Here’s the fun part, because I’m a fallen angel, it works a little differently! My powers got corrupted so that sacrifice you have there – oh she’s an actual virgin! – is going to be your ticket to my powers.”

               “So, I have to keep her safe?”

               He shrugs, “You asked, I’m just telling you friend. Obviously, the price is the same as any other deal.”

               “Obviously.”

               “So, you’re prepared for that? Hell isn’t as nice as you’d think.”

               “No shit Sherlock, but don’t worry, I’ve thought it through a fair bit.” Hawks laughs at that.

               “Alright! Since my fall was lust based, the power transfer is too, if you catch my drift.” Hawks says with a raised eyebrow.

               “….sort of?”

               “Oh my god, are you an idiot?”

               “I don’t want to hear that from you, chicken man.” Dabi just wants this over with, he’s getting a little antsy. “Can we get started already?”

               “Alright then, time to wake up sleeping beauty over there.”

                 You feel yourself being blearily shaken awake, and you’re shocked to see a different face than Dabi’s in front of you. He’s gorgeous, and his wings, despite being an eerie dark red, are full and look so soft. Blearily, you try to reach up to try and feel them, forgetting that your hands are tied to the peg on the floor. The man looks at you with pity and amusement.

               “Hey there, I’m Hawks, are you ready to become a human magic battery?” he says cheerily, words much at odds with his words and expression.

               “What, no, what’s going on? Please there’s a man here – Dabi – and he’s kidnapped me! You have to help me out, call the police, why are you smiling?” You feel the tiny bit of hope that had grown up come crashing down as you observed the – man? Angel? – who called himself Hawks.

               “Yeah, my friend Dabi and I have a little arrangement here. You know what I am right? You should know that struggling is useless. Just lay back and enjoy the ride, baby.” His eyes pierce your soul and you find yourself unable to even think of a response to that.

               You don’t even completely realize what that means until he starts nuzzling your neck as his hands go towards your tits, starting to play with your pebbled nipples, his hands surprisingly warm.

               “No please, I don’t want that…” you say weakly, completely spent already from the ordeal that Dabi had put you through. “I just want to go home!” you’re so delirious from pain and the small bits of pleasure you’re trying to pretend aren’t happening at Hawks’ toying with you.

               “Too bad little bird, you don’t really have a say in the matter at the moment.” He bites down on your neck hard, drawing blood which he then licks up. “So, fucking good! Haven’t been able to do this in so long.” He’s grinding into you, the layers of fabric bringing you stimulation and pleasure as you moan, immediately tensing up in embarrassment and shame.

               “Don’t be like that, I always make people feel good like this, so just relax.” His eyes are glowing and as you look into them, you feel yourself relaxing a bit. Maybe you should relax, he definitely knows what he’s doing, you can feel the heat building in your core and your hazy mind start to lose focus. His eyes, are just so fucking beautiful, and the way his fingers are moving feel amazing.

               He turns his head down, lapping lightly at your breast. His tongue is warm, but the metal stud on his tongue makes you moan out in delight.

               “Oh so you do like it!” he exclaims brightly. “Let’s get this started now baby.” Your mind is still screaming at you that this is wrong, that you don’t want this, that you need to struggle and get free. With all the distractions in your mind, its so deliciously easy to fall into a hazy daydream like trance as he licks up the blood from your wounds. His tongue makes it feel so, so good. He switches breasts, tugging on your nipples as you mewl in delight. Once you let go, everything was so much better!

               He sucks bruises onto your hips, nipping at them with his sharpened fangs. “Oi, don’t enjoy yourself too much there Dabi, you gotta go a round too after.” You turn to see Dabi stretched out like a cat on his couch, his cock out of his pants as he languidly strokes it. It’s pierced and you find yourself imagining how it would feel scraping your walls.

               There was only one thing bothering you, and it was that everywhere Hawks touched grew hotter and hotter, not in an unpleasant way, more in an antsy, wanting to move and run mood. You felt like you were vibrating and you didn’t understand it. But you couldn’t bring yourself to care as your jaw dropped when the angel ripped off your bottoms harshly.

               “Let’s see if you taste as good as the other humans I’ve devoured.” He rips the ankle restraints as he tosses your knees over his shoulders and licks a stripe up your pussy. You shudder at the new sensation, biting on your lip to stifle your moan.

               He sees that as a challenge and spends his time tasting your juices along his tongue, his eyes seemingly brighter as he works at your pussy, teasing your clit with his tongue stud. He keeps working at you with single minded determination, teasing your hole with his sharp nail and you let out a squeak, which quickly turns into a groan as he slides his finger in. He adds a second as soon as he can, loving hearing the sounds your pussy makes as he scissors you open.

               You’ve never felt this good in your life, you can barely tell what’s happening, but you feel waves of pleasure as you feel his tightening in your lower belly.

               “You’re getting close, huh?” Hawks brings his face up, eyes lidded as he licks the juices around his mouth. “Do you want to cum?”

               “Yes!”

               “Well, I don’t know, you were pretty awful to my business partner over there… maybe I shouldn’t let you cum.” He brings his second hand up to his face, lightly scratching at his scruff, and you begin to panic. You have this insatiable need, you don’t know where it came from, but it’s not letting you think at all. There’s this voice yelling at you that it’s Hawks’ fault, but he’s literally an angel. How could he be doing something so disgusting to you?

               So you open your mouth, “Please let me cum, I’ll be so good for you sir! I didn’t mean to be awful to him, I just didn’t understand what he was trying to do!”

               “That’s fucking right.” There’s a sudden intensity in his eyes that makes you feel like your heart’s stopped. “You didn’t know what you were doing. I’m your guardian angel after all, and I came here because you were going to make a mistake that would put you in danger.”

               “Oh my god…” the horror you feel chokes your throat, yet it doesn’t rid you of the incessant need that’s been plaguing you.

               “Would your guardian angel ever steer you wrong, Y/N?” he grabs your chin, nails cutting shallowly when he presses.

               “No, you wouldn’t!” you shake your head, trying to convey exactly how much you were repenting.

               “So, listen carefully little lady. This is important.” He waits for your assent before he continues. “You’re in a very dangerous spot, so I needed a friend here to help you out, he’s going to keep you nice and safe. All you have to do in return is let yourself have some fun, some pleasure in your life. I mean, you’re begging for that exact pleasure right now.”

               There’s a little niggling at the back of your head, it’s telling you how good you’ll be treated, you’ll be loved and accepted. You start to shake it off, but you can’t when it tells you that nobody will ever make you feel good like this, who would want too? Here you have two beings ready to make you feel good like you’ve never felt before and you’re denying them?

               “Of course, that sounds like a great idea Mr. Hawks.”

               “Alright, what a good girl, see Dabi? Isn’t she great?”

               “I knew I’d gotten lucky, but I didn’t realize how lucky until now.” The grin on his face is satisfied, but as you look longer, the more you see the pleasure and happiness he feels too.

               “Do I get to cum now? You keep saying how good I am…” you don’t remember thinking about saying that, but the words seem to come out on their own accord.

               In response Hawks goes back to your neglected pussy and starts thrusting his fingers into a spot inside you that makes you gasp in surprise. With all the swirling emotions and pain and alcohol you feel yourself tighten and let loose quickly, hitting your high in ecstasy. Your back arches, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you notice that your shoulders have definitely been scratched up badly.

               But why care when you feel so good now?

               Your eyes are closed as you lie there, battered and cut and so blissed out as Hawks removes his pants and looks around.

               “You didn’t bring lube?” he directs the question to Dabi.

               “You need that? I thought you had like, magic and shit.”

               Hawks swallows his annoyance, “I’m in a mortal form dipshit. Channeling divine or corrupt energy is hard to do without fucking blowing myself up.”

               Dabi just shrugs. “I mean to be fair; I didn’t know I was getting some angel that got kicked out of heaven for being horny. Or else I definitely would’ve bought some.”

               “Whatever,” he mutters. “I like this way better.” You hear the conversation, but can’t be bothered to really understand what they’re saying. All you know is that you feel someone leaning above you.

               Hawks takes a feather from his wings, carefully turning it in his hands. “Now, I’m not going to lie, this is going to hurt a bit. But I’ll make you feel so good you won’t even remember it, alright?” You nod along blearily, barely hearing him.

               He grins and slices a long line right above your hip, and you barely feel it being so numb. You do feel his fingers pressing into the cut though, and you try to squirm away, but that just makes him slam you down with his other hand in a surprising show of force for his physique. It feels so wrong when you feel him wiggle his fingers a bit inside your skin, and you shut your eyes so you don’t have to see it. Apparently, that amuses Dabi, who starts guffawing off to the side somewhere. The pain brings up all off the fear you’ve been feeling the whole night, and it shocks you. You start screaming, begging to be let go hysterically while you see Hawks, his hand covered in your blood, fisting his length, mixing some of the precum with it.

               “I thought you said you were going to behave.” He growls and you feel an intense pressure on your mind for a second before your fear starts to fade away easily. “Much better.” He says to your relaxing form.

               “You gotta teach me how to do that,” Dabi comments, which just has Hawks rolling his eyes.

               “Shut up and let me enjoy this, I haven’t had sex in so long, warlock.” That elicits a snort from Dabi as he settles back down.

               He lines up his cock with your slick entrance, teasing a bit as the blood and your juices mix together and it lets him start to work his way inside of you. You’re panting, fingers scrabbling at everything they can reach as he pushes through. You feel a mix of pain and pleasure as he pushes all the way into you. He surprisingly lets you adjust, breathing heavily as your walls squeeze intensely around the intrusion.

               It feels so, so good though and Hawks can tell that’s how you feel as he grins and moves your legs up and around his hips. You whine as he stretches you out more with the new position, and he grunts a bit as he starts thrusting his hips, dragging his sharpened nails down your side without breaking the skin. He puts his head to your neck, pressing open mouth kisses there that make you relax around him, and as soon as he feels that change, he starts pounding into you harder. You hear lewd noises and realize that most of them, are in fact, coming from you. Which is a little jarring of a realization but in your state, you can’t really say it surprised you. It was more of a ‘huh, that’s me then’ moment.

               The sound of skin slapping on skin fills the room along with grunts of exertion and moans of pleasure from the pair of you. You can feel yourself building up to that point once again, and you don’t realize it until you’re clamping down on his cock with a shout of pleasure. Hawks groans at the sound, and feels your tight walls somehow clamp down on him harder and starts bucking into you, nails digging into your hips as he chases his own release.

               Had you been in any normal state of mind, you might’ve found it disturbing that Hawks seemed to be murmuring a bunch of Latin as he pounded into you. You might’ve noticed the hand he placed on your heart left a searing imprint that turned dark red. You might’ve noticed his pupils contract into slits and his eyes turn a deep red for a few seconds.

               But you didn’t.

               You felt like you were floating, and figured if this could be compared to anything, it would be a more painful version of a wet, fever dream.

               Suddenly, Hawks comes inside you and you feel the warm liquid fill you up as he thrusts a couple more times, working himself through it. He stays inside, but that’s not what takes your focus. The feeling that you were vibrating without moving was back with a vengeance, but you also felt this numbness that started from your core that moved outwards until your entire body was feeling that way. As Hawks pulled out, you felt so empty, you felt like you didn’t know what to do. So, you let your eyes drift shut while you heard some talk about ‘a transfer’ and ‘both it her.’

               Suddenly, your wrist bindings were also stripped off and you look up in surprise to see Hawks with that same feather setting you free, while Dabi moved to the bedroom.

               “You still going to be good for us, little lady? We’re almost done for tonight.” He coos at you, lightly stroking your chin with his finger.  You give him a small nod, and with that, he picks you up as if you were a stuffed toy and you lean into his shoulder as he brings you to the bedroom.

               “Right, at least you’re prepared already so we can get into this quickly.” Hawks says brusquely, bringing himself to the bed and setting you down before he sits as well.

               “You were enjoying yourself a minute ago, what’s with the sudden rush?” Dabi’s eyebrow is quirked as he puts his hand in your hair and starts scratching your head. You shamelessly sigh in appreciation.

               “My times running out, gotta get this transfer done soon or else we’re going to have to start over another day.” Hawks grouches. “Damn I don’t miss all the rules, but having unlimited mortal form time? That’s something I miss about upstairs.”

               Turning his attention to you Dabi says, “Here, you enjoyed that guy, so you’ll love sitting on my cock.”

               Right now, nothing sounded better, so using the last of your strength, you crawled up to his lap and he guided you right above his dick. He brought you down slowly, ever so slowly, and you felt every inch of his dick inside you, especially those piercings that gave you an amazing sensation.

               “There’s a good girl, much better than before,” he gets out.

               “Now you’re going to need to relax, alright Y/N? It’s going to feel really tight at first but you’ll feel great afterwards.” Hawks is mumbling this into your neck, playing with your hair a little bit while he does.

               “I can do that,” you say, unaware of what he was going to do, but ready to please him.

               “Good, Dabi you might have to distract her a little bit, she’s pretty tight for one person, let alone two.” Dabi smirks but leans back, starting to play with your nipples a bit. You never thought you’d like the sensation of someone swirling around them, tugging them at some points, but here you were, enjoying every second of it.

               You get so into it, that at first you don’t notice Hawks lining up with your entrance and starting to work his way back into you. Dabi actually does first, shuddering at the contact of Hawks’ dick against his own and gasping a bit.

               “Oh Dabi, you were so cocky a minute ago, what’s wrong now?” You hear the teasing from behind as you desperately grip onto Dabi’s shoulders, trying to stay relaxed so it doesn’t hurt as much.

               “Fuck off, chicken.” Is his only response which Hawks cackles at as he starts to push further in. You gasp at the painful stretch, tears welling out of your eyes, as Hawks reaches around you to play with your clit to distract you.

               “Doing so good, sweetheart, just a little bit more, can you do that for me?” he nips at your ear.

               “Yes,” you gasp, the pleasure from his rough finger movements distracting you a bit from all the pain as your breathing gets shallow. “Slow down, please?”

               “That’ll just make it worse,” he says. “I’m just going to get it over quickly, alright?” you don’t even have time to agree before he shoves the rest of his way in, screaming out as it happens. You feel so fucking stuffed, and they haven’t even started moving or anything.

               Dabi’s losing some of that composure he’d had before, cussing as he tries to steady his breathing, but you feel his cock twitching inside you. You’re losing the strength you have in your arms as you lean forwards onto Dabi’s chest, and you moan as the shift in movement gives you friction on your clit and in your pussy.

               Without really knowing what you’re doing, you press kisses onto the side of his neck as you lie there, trying to get used to being this stretched out. It wasn’t going to happen tonight that’s for sure, because you’d barely had anything up there until today.

               You feel a grip tighten on your hips as one of them, at this point you have no idea who, starts moving in and out. The other goes the opposite rhythm so that you always feel so completely full you feel like you’re going to burst. The thought comes unbidden into your mind that these two sadists might actually enjoy that. It makes you shiver in fear.

               You can’t really remember what happened, but you have specific feelings and recollections of the two fucking into you,

               …Dabi hitting your G-Spot over and over again as you see white and cum hard on his cock…

               …Hawks leaning over you to grab Dabi into a rather passionate kiss as he got you to play with the raven-haired man’s pierced nipples…

               …Your ass getting spanked so you clench down on them and Dabi comes, but stays inside until he gets hard again…

               …getting toyed with in every possible way, bites and bruises marking your skin so much that you feel light headed from blood-loss…

               …you remember clawing at Dabi’s back which has him screaming in pleasure…

               …Dabi’s eyes glowing blue, as if he’d had flames trapped inside them and they were ready to come out…

               …pleased laughter and an uptick in pace…

               …then nothing…

                 Dabi lays back, breathing heavily as your form is slumped on his chest. He wasn’t surprised you’d completely passed out a little way into your second round. If anything, he was surprised you’d managed to last that long. He was wiped after one, but that was mainly because he was trying to keep up with Hawks, who had the fucking endurance of something otherworldly.

               Which made sense given he was a magical being.

               Still it peeved Dabi to no end as Hawks slid out of you looking completely untouched as he did so. The only thing that was out of place was his hair, messed from Dabi grabbing it, which he hadn’t remembered starting but it was sometime when he was making out with Hawks… which he hadn’t expected… but he wasn’t complaining.

               Although no matter how drained Dabi felt physically, magically? He felt so fucking ready to take on anything that could happen in the future. He could feel it pulsing around his body, in his fingertips and temples, and it felt amazing. He understood why so many people went with summoning darker entities for power transfers now, much easier and much more potent.

               “So, I have to be here in person to do my whole mind-manipulation thing, so you should think about how to keep her safe for now. She’s tied to you because of the transfer so like, if she were to die for example…. You’d definitely die too.” Hawks says with a cheery smile.

               “You didn’t think to mention that before?” he gets a shrug in response.

               “You didn’t ask. Oh and, for every time you need a power boost, just take care of her and let her enjoy the sex, it’ll ah – flow easier if you catch my drift.”

               “Thanks oh angel of a good dickening… what would I ever do without you?”

               “No seriously, the more your conduit enjoys the sex, the more you get out of it.” he looks unamused.

               “Oh. Ah, well that’s good to know.” Dabi has to start planning out his next moves then, keeping you healthy and happy was going to be a tough job.

               “I did make the suggestion to her that I was her guardian angel and you were helping her out, try to play up that angle, it’ll call up some of the residual magic in her mind and make her… more pliant.” Hawks starts putting on his clothes once again.

               “Uh, thanks. Is she just a constant source of your power then?” That’s the only part Dabi was still confused about.

               “No, I’ll be back when I feel the energy start to dwindle. I need you to do all the terrible things I know you have planned. Your soul will be fucking delicious then. Any who, see you later Dabi! It was an absolute pleasure doing business with you.”

               He vanishes like he came, suddenly disappearing with a gust of air hitting Dabi in the face. Dabi looks down on you, still on his cock as he desperately tries to think about what he was going to do to keep you in here and how he’d keep you safe trying to hunt down another coven.