#that picture is making me hungry for christmas parties

[shoku-and-awe]

@mafaldinablabla I'm sure it's just my weird way of describing it 😅 But these are pretty much the only way I've encountered a pimiento pepper:

Happy Friday, everyone! It's cold and rainy in Tokyo so let’s get something warming for THE LATEST LITERACY WALLCHART FOR CHILDREN Advent Calendar, Day 5!

This fact has it all! Two different names for the vegetable in question (both of which arguably actually refer to a different food!)*, article usage that is very slightly stilted, and a piece of useful information about Chinese regional culture. I love Sichuan food and I love spice, so that's extra nice :)

Speaking of spicy Chinese cuisines, I once read that the reason that Hunan restaurants are so common in the US is because it became popular after Nixon ate so much Hunan food on his historic visit to China. HOWEVER, in reality, it was just that any time he liked or asked about a dish, his hosts went and told him that it was from Hunan, because that's where Mao Zedong was from. And actually almost none of it was Hunanese! However, now I can't find that documented anywhere else so I hope I am not telling you a lie!

[ssseashell]

my newtmas headcanons (because i saw some people posting their own hc's and had to share mine)

these are mostly based on a modern setting scenario, but some can be pictured in canon aswell ^__^ 🐈🐈‍⬛

thomas has dimples, newt has freckles

thomas has brown hazel-ish eyes, newt has dark brown eyes

thomas’ cheeks are naturally red and newt’s cheeks are pale and, sometimes, they turn pink

newt collects vinyls and books, thomas collects comic books and mini figures

thomas’ love language is ‘physical touch’, so he’s always touching newt; holding his hands, massaging his back, playing with the lobe of his ear, temple kisses, love bites, whatever.

newt’s love language is ‘words of affirmation’, so thomas receives ‘i love you’s and any other sweet words like 50 times a day (he also makes sure he says it a lot)

eye contact, lots of eye contact. especially before they were together

small touches

arms brushing against one another

fingers rushing against one another

thomas still is determined to count every freckle newt has in his face

kisses. all types of kisses. smiles between kisses / slow kisses / messy kisses / following a kiss on the lips with a series of kisses down the neck / kisses that were meant to be gentle, ending up in devout passion / long kisses that leave them breathless and flustered

hugs. a lot of hugs. all types of hugs.

they know everything about each other

newt loves playing with thomas’ hair. he cut his hair once. never again

thomas has terrible memory, newt remembers everything

newt likes to draw and paint, thomas likes to make music (he knows how to play the guitar)

newt’s fav color is green, thomas’ fav color is red

they read together sometimes, each with their own book – but thomas is usually the one to get bored first, so he just lays on newt’s lap while newt plays with his hair and reads his book aloud for him

thomas likes to run late at night and when he’s back he just wants to sleep and cuddle, but newt won’t touch him until he’s showered

sometimes thomas comes home with some cut or injury from running and newt takes care of him every time

newt gets sick easily, so thomas had to learn how to take care of him. newt: don’t touch me, i’m all sick / thomas: i don’t care

newt, to thomas: if i hear you sing to heathers in the shower again i’ll join you just to drown you

every time they kiss in a stairwell, thomas makes sure he’s on a higher step so, for some seconds, he’s taller than newt

newt makes thomas trade their food when he likes the brunet’s better

thomas, when cuddling: “i’m hungry” / newt: “i’m not moving”

thomas had this bad habit of biting into his nails when he’s anxious or stressed, newt hates it

when newt is crying because of stress or anger, thomas licks his cheeks to catch his tears and never fails to make the blond chuckle

newt discovered he loves thomas on a random tuesday night. they were dancing and singing with their friends and thomas slipped on air and fell on his butt, and newt was like yeah, he’s so dumb. i do love him

they like to bake their friends’ birthday cakes together as part of their present (thomas is awful at the kitchen, so all he does is basically put the candles on top of the cake once it’s done

thomas is that person to be excitedly yapping in bed about his day and then, in two seconds, is falling asleep mid sentence because he’s so tired. and newt just giggles every time it happens, and kisses his forehead passionately before also falling asleep

sometimes newt feels so homesick it hurts, so thomas does all he can to cheer him up with silly little things, like watching newt’s favorite english movies or listening to songs he listened to when he was a kid, or having a tea party playdate where they pretend they are from the english royalty (yes, it’s so stupid

thomas: damn, it’s like my mom likes you better than me

thomas’ hand is smaller

they both love all rom coms, romantic comedies and christmas classics so, every week precisely, they buy all the sweet treats they want and make popcorn and choose something to watch together (even if it’s not christmas, even if it’s something they’d watched 1000 times already

[sickiesope]

Hiii everyone, I'm back! Here's a December fic I came up with on a whim! JK and Hobi both get sick somehow at a Christmas party and try hiding it from everyone, including each other XD

Holiday mishaps

Sickies: Jungkook and Hoseok

Caretakers: Jungkook and Hoseok

TW: emeto

Jungkook wishes he dressed up a little more for this Christmas party. He's in a white fleece sweater and black jeans. Hoseok, Jimin and Taehyung are in full on suits with flashy ties.

Drinks are offered and the tables are covered with food. Jungkook has been enjoying it, trying out different things. He had a variety of meats quite a bit of pasta. And then there's the desserts. He had candy, cookies, and cheesecake. After the cheesecake, Jungkook stops. It's so rich and doesn't agree with his stomach. That pasta was also pretty salty. "Ughh, that's not sitting right.." He feels queasy as his stomach churns uncomfortably with it.

Hoseok is having drinks with Yoongi and Namjoon. He's on his second one and feels buzzed. That alcohol can be sneaky and make him feel sour in minutes.

"Hoba, you still with us?" Yoongi sees his changing expressions.

Hoseok nods, quickly putting his half empty glass down. He doesn't like how it's mostly liquids stirring in his stomach. "I just gotta slow down is all.."

"Hm, good point. Don't wanna ruin that suit" Namjoon chuckles. "You should have some water and eat something."

Hoseok looks at the food table. He should probably eat but doesn't feel hungry. Jungkook sees Hoseok looking in his direction. No one can know that he's sick. The maknae smiles and waves to him, hiding his abdominal pain. Hoseok smiles and waves back, also trying to act normal.

Jungkook turns back around and nearly bumps into Jimin. "Whoa, Kookie, you good?"

"I'm sorry hyungie" *he burps into his hand suddenly* "uhh, 'scuse me.."

"No worries, you ok?"

Jungkook nods "mhm..never better!" He refrains from holding his middle. Instead he adjusts his sweater. "Do you think I'm underdressed?"

Jimin laughs out loud. "Nah, you look fine Kook" he brushes the soft sleeves with his hand.

"Yeah, you're right--" Jungkook stifles another burp. That one felt like a gag and he almost feels like throwing up. But that would be super awkward and spoil the vibe. Then again, this icky feeling inside is getting worse..

Hoseok tried eating some fruit but it seemed to backfire. His stomach roils inside in poor reaction. "Ughh, so much for that.." He hiccups and his stomach squelches. That doesn't feel good.

"Hyung, you doing ok?" Jungkook asks Hoseok now. Hoseok gives a thumbs up but backs away nervously.

"Everyone over here!" Seokjin is calling them for a picture. "Hobi, what are you doing? Come closer!" Hoseok holds his breath and cozies up to them, forcing a smile.

Jungkook is trying to look cheerful wedged between Taehyung and Jimin. They're all hugging tightly and he's afraid it'll squeeze the barf out of him. A terrible image that makes his stomach hurt. "..Did we get it?" Jungkook asks in a higher pitched voice. It feels like an eternity standing there.

"Let's take one in that corner, the lighting's better!" Taehyung suggests. Jungkook quietly groans at that idea and so does Hoseok. They do several more and Jungkook is spent. It feels like lead in his stomach and it hurts.

When the members are distracted looking at the results, Jungkook takes the chance and sneaks to the bathroom. He hates this feeling and wants to ease his queasy belly. He goes to the last stall that's partly hidden and locks it.

"I'll feel better after getting it out" he hopes.

Jungkook coughs wetly looking into the bowl. He feels it coming but it's a slower process than anticipated. He gags as his stomach churns with revulsion. Jungkook groans impatiently, almost wanting to change his mind. Does he really feel that sick?

His stomach says yes, making him heave up an atrocious wave into the bowl, turning the water clear to opaque in seconds. It's a thick yellow mushy paste and he moans in disgust at the sight. His body shakes rapidly as he gurgles up more of it.

Jungkook pauses once in a while, making sure he doesn't hear the door open or any footsteps. Still okay so far. His stomach contracts and he regurgitates more of his dinner. It's got a bittersweet taste that coats his mouth as it oozes out. He feels gross but it's not over.

Meanwhile at the bar, Hoseok is still debating what to do. He wants to barf but his stomach's just roiling in circles. He's trying to keep distracted hanging with Yoongi and Namjoon. The leader got them shots of tequila to celebrate their music achievements.

Oh no..

Hoseok knows that will definitely induce vomiting. But then realized that's exactly what he needs. Hoseok decides to take the shot and what ever happens, happens.

"Cheers!"

It burns his throat and disturbs his stomach fiercely. Hoseok gags and sprints to the bathroom.

Jungkook finally gets up and flushes the toilet. He actually does feel a bit better. And no one will know what happened, he smiles to himself. But then he looks down and gasps. The bottom of his white sweater got stained. "Awh shit!" JK cursed to himself. He thinks about trying to clean it, but worries he'll make it worse.

Just then, he hears the bathroom door and someone running in. Jungkook freezes. "Oh no, I'm caught.." But instead he hears another stall hastily open followed by a horrid retch, splashing loudly into the bowl. It startles him. What's going on? Who is that?? Jungkook wasn't sure but then recognized the shoes. "...Hobi hyung? Is that you?"

Hoseok's eyes widen, he didn't know someone else was here. And they just heard him vomit up a storm. Great. "Ughh, yeah.. it's me.. " Hoseok coughs and his stomach shoots up liquids like a fountain. He can still taste that tequila strongly and it smells even worse.

Jungkook hears all the awful sounds of Hoseok and he gets queasy again. He throws up and now they're both retching back to back.

Jungkook finishes and his stomach eases up. He finally got rid of it all. He goes to help Hoseok, who didn't have time to lock his door. "Hyung, what happened??"

Hoseok looks up briefly "T-tequila...and soju.."

Jungkook is shocked. He can't believe Hoseok was also sick tonight. How did he not notice?? Then again, they're both pretty good at hiding it..

"I didn't mean to make you sick Kook--" Hoseok dives his head expelling more.

"Oh no hyung, it's not your fault! I actually ate too much earlier" JK says sheepishly.

"And i had too much to drink" Hoseok groans, holding his abdomen. His throat hurts from the burning alcohol and stomach bile running through it. Jungkook rubs his nape as the dancer heaves twice more. The flow eventually fades and Hoseok pulls away. Miraculously, his suit is spotless.

"How do you feel now hyungie?"

"Hmm, I think I'm feeling..better?" Hoseok is surprised. His stomach just wanted to rid what was bothering it. "I'm never having tequila again."

"Oh, hyung, you still have a little on your chin" Jungkook gets a paper towel and gently wipes Hobi's face. Hoseok helps Jungkook clean his sweater. It isn't perfect but it is better.

"We should get out of here, the others are probably waiting."

[dumbass-tumbler-cryptid]

If this scene exists at all, can you give a snippet of Spider + any of his uncles/aunts in Cabin in the Woods?

There are/will be plenty of scenes with his aunt/uncles! Currently with what I have written Ja plays a major roll in one ending, but I'm thinking other members of team Deja Blue will get there moments to shine down the road.

here's a more fluffy family snippet for you though!

*********************************************************************

  It seemed unreal how quickly the year had passed. One minute it was his first day of school. The next he was sitting amongst his classmates in a graduation cap and gown, waiting for his fake name to be called, his father, aunt and uncles watching him from the surrounding seating of the auditorium. After everything he’d been through he couldn’t believe he was here, receiving his high school diploma with his loving family in attendance. The whole affair went on for an agonizingly long time yet once it was over, it felt like it had passed in an instant.

   Plenty of pictures were taken. He posed with his two closest friends just outside of the school before they broke off to take some pictures with their families. He went up to his Pa expecting that he’d want the two of them to get in front of the camera as well but instead he said, “it’s too crowded here. Let’s get home. Beat the traffic.” Miles felt a little dejected at the refusal but obeyed.

   During the ride home he ran his hand over his diploma tracing the letters of his fake name, with a mix of accomplishment and sadness. If his Pa noticed his mood, he ignored it, silently focusing on the road the entire trip. Their driveway was already filled with his aunt’s and uncles' cars by the time they got home. Miles figured that they had left shortly after he threw his graduation cap into the air. They entered the building to a chorus of cheers and applause. Miles laughed in shock as he looked around the living room, his relatives having set up an entire party for him with plenty of food, a cake, balloons and streamers, in under an hour. “Thank you so much!” Miles practically shouted once the noise died down.

    Pa ruffled his hair, “it’s nothing son. We're proud of you.” Everyone nodded in agreement.

    “Sit down,” Uncle Lyle said, ushering him to the couch. “We know you're probably hungry but we got you some presents and were really excited for you to see them.” 

    “You guys didn’t have to get me anything.” The room filled with cries of denial from every adult in the room making Miles laugh at their indignation. 

   One by one he was handed gifts like it was Christmas. Most of it was for his upcoming trip. A new camera from Uncle Mansk. A first aid kit from Uncle Ja. A bunch of travel books from Auntie Z. New art supplies from Uncle Fike. And then, Uncle Lyle handed him a thin rectangular package the exact same size as his diploma. Ripping off the paper revealed that it was his diploma. He stared at the red pleather cover in confusion before opening it. Inside was an exact replica of his graduation certificate, with one major difference. His real name. Miles Socorro-Quaritch Jr. High school graduate. 

   “I snuck into your school a few nights back,” Uncle Lyle admitted, “they keep those things on a template. All you have to do is add the name and print.”

   “Thank you.” Miles said in an oddly choked hush as he traced the letter of his real name.

    “Now you know why I wanted to wait for pictures.” Pa said, patting him on the back. Miles just nodded.

    Before they really got the party started father and son, plus Lyle made their way outside, Cupcake following on the heels of her masters. They stood with the wide open countryside as their background, Pa with his arm proudly wrapped around his son’s shoulder, Miles displaying his real diploma, Cupcake sitting by their feet, tongue hanging out and tail wagging from all the excitement. 

   Once a few pictures were taken Lyle held the digital camera out for them to inspect the images. Miles felt like he was glowing looking at the two of them like that, no disguises, no fake names. Just one happy family.

[abbatoirablaze]

The Thrombey Christmas Party, Ex Wive's Club

Word Count: 2k

Warnings:  angst, mild violence, mentions of slapping.

“Hey…it’s not your fault…”

Ransom frowned as he looked over his shoulder at his wife. 

He had expected Lily to blow off the family Christmas party ever since his mother took Curtis’ side when it came to Maritza, but what he hadn’t expected was their last interaction together. 

She’d been on less than friendly terms with him when Rose came into the picture, stating that ‘he had a new little daughter he could mold into a perfect child.’  And she found it necessary to scream that at him any time he tried to contact her. 

Jess knew how much those words had hurt him though, especially during the last time that Ransom had tried to invite her over to dinner. 

He’d ended up sobbing against Jess’ chest for an hour when she showed up wasted, calling him the most horrible father to have ever existed.  She had shown up well after the time he’d told her, after Evan and Rosie were both in bed, but that wasn’t what bothered him.

“Ransom…”

Ransom’s jaw twitched as he fought back the angry words that flooded his mind.  His daughter was very obviously wasted, and was dressing like she was about to go to the clubs. 

“Lil-“

“Are you going to invite me in?” she growled, cutting her father off.  She rolled her eyes at her father as he stepped to the side and opened the door a little more.

“You’re late,” he reminded her softly, “Jess put Evan and Rose down, so-“

“Don’t wake the little bastards, got it!” she said with another roll of her eyes.

“Hey…they’re your siblings!”

“And they’re my siblings because you fucked an underage girl the first time, then ended up marrying her and not pulling out the second time.”

“LILY-“

“Hugh?” Jess asked, hearing the distressed tone from her husband’s voice, “Is everything okay?”

Lily mumbled something under her breath as her former best friend, and step mother came down the hall to greet them.  On an instant she was at his side, kissing his shoulder. 

“Sorry,” he sighed, giving her a solemn look, “I know you just put the kids down!”

“Lily…” Jess frowned, looking at the woman her own age, “You’re late…I put dinner away already, but if you’re hungr-“

“I didn’t come over to eat and play happy little family,” she hissed, before her eyes met her fathers’ once more, “I’m not hungry!”

“Well why did you come then?” Ransom asked quickly, “because I wanted to talk to you about-“

“I know that grandma is selling her real estate company and we all get a share of the funds.” She said quickly, “I want my share.”

“I have no control over that, Lil…” he muttered, shaking his head as he crossed his own arms over his chest, “but even if I did, I wouldn’t try harassing your Linda over-“

“SERIOUSLY?” she screeched, “that money is mine!  She wants to lock it up under some bullshit trust and you’re just going to let her?”

“Lil-“

“YOU’RE A SHIT FATHER, RANSOM,” she spat, glaring daggers at her father, “I COME TO YOU FOR ONE THING AND YOU CAN’T EVEN DO IT.  YOU’RE SO WRAPPED AROUND MY EX BEST FRIEND’S PUSSY THAT YOU CAN’T HELP YOUR FIRST CHILD!  I’M JUST HERE BECAUSE YOU COULDN’T PULL OUT IN TIME.”

She had continued her rant, but upstairs, the parents could hear Rose waking up as she began to cry. 

“Shit…” Jess hissed.  She pressed a kiss to her husband’s shoulder, “I’m sorry…I-“

“Go take care of Rose,” Ransom confirmed before he cut his daughter off, “Lily, stop!”

“Or what?” she hissed as Jess ran towards the stairs to coo her agitated daughter. 

“Lil-“

The fact that Lily had no problem shredding Ransom to bits any chance she could really ate away at Jess.

She wanted to be supportive of her husband. 

“If it makes you feel better, it’s probably just because she hates me!” Jess offered with a frown as she bounced little one and a half year old Rose on her hip, “she’s still not over the idea of us being married…you know you’re an amazing father, and husband, Hugh.  You are always there for us just like you try to be there for her.  You’ve made an amazing relationship with Maritza despite it all as well!”

He gave a heavy sigh, and she knew that in that moment, despite her best efforts, there wasn’t anything that she could truly say to right what was going on in his head. 

“Da-da!” Rosie giggled, looking at her father with adoring eyes. 

Ransom’s eyes snapped to hers, and the worry faded as she reached out for him.  His little chubby-cheeked angel smiled at her father, and it helped calm him, if only slightly.

“I think someone wants you to hold her, daddy!” Jess giggled, shooting her husband a wink. 

Ransom bit his lip, holding back the new feelings that were quickly pushing their way forward.  His eyes raked over his wife’s body, and then he took another look towards the entrance, and then scanned the room. 

Everyone was off in their own little worlds. 

His cousins and their respective families were having their normal pissing contests. 

And Curtis had come with Maritza, Sasha, and her two children, who were all actively engaged in talking to his own mother, who had recently sold her real estate empire to focus on being a great woman to her grandchildren and great grandchild. 

Meanwhile, his own son was smiling, learning how to play Go with Harlan. 

“You know…if you call me daddy again like that, we may have to sneak off,” Ransom teased lightly as he took his daughter from his wife’s arms, “I’ve been been chomping at the bit for another little baby boy…and I know you have too!”

“We did say we wanted to wait until the end of the year…”

“And it’s already here!” he smiled. 

She shot him a wink and leaned up, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, “maybe if daddy’s been good this year, when we tuck the babies in…he can unwrap a special gift from mommy then!”

Lust hit Ransom like a freight train and his eyes twinkled at the thought, “a special gift from mommy?”

“Da-da!” Rosie repeated, reaching out to grab Ransom’s face. 

Jess couldn’t help but laugh as their daughter pouted at her father, angry that she was being ignored while in his arms. 

Ransom’s gaze met his daughters, and she held firm on her straight face.

“Looks like you’ve got to smooth it over with baby Drysdale first, daddy…” she smirked, “I’m going to go get her bottle from the kitchen…will you be alright?”

“Right,” Ransom nodded, stepping over to his mother.  He bounced Rose on his hip as he made his way to her, “I know who can cheer you up, little miss sass.”

Linda looked up from her grand-daughter, and towards her son.  Her smile grew when she saw her youngest grandchild, “Rosie!”

“NANA!” the baby squealed excitedly, making grabby hands at her.  Linda lit up, mirroring the baby’s actions, before pulling her into her arms.

“Oh, there’s my baby!”

“Nana baby!” she repeated happily, snuggling into her grandmother as she called herself her grandmother’s baby. 

Ransom smiled, happy to see the calm in his family.  He looked at Curtis and noticed his own grandchild looking up at him.  Maritza giggled as she waved to him.

‘Hello angel’ Ransom mouthed, while brokenly signing the words he’d been learning through his tutor every week, ‘pretty dress for Christmas!’

‘Thank you dum-dum’

“Mr. Curtis, why did Maritza call Mr. Ransom a dumb dumb?”

Curtis chuckled as Michael looked at the little girl bewildered, “she’s not calling him a dumb dumb, Michael.  That’s her name for him.  Mr. Ransom doesn’t want to be called grandpa, and her mother always called him by his first name.  but the name Ransom sounded like ‘dumb dumb’ when she first got her cochlear implant…and that just sort of stuck.”

“That’s silly!” Ashley giggled from beside her stepsister.  She signed to her, ‘why not call him grumpy?  He never smiles unless he’s with Miss. Jess!’

“Hey, I saw that sign!” Ransom teased, signing along as well as speaking, to let his grand daughter feel included still.  He reached for her and scooped her up, and she began giggling once more, “tell them I’m not a dumb dumb, Maritza!  Tell them I’m not grumpy either.”

‘No, grumpy!’ the little girl giggled, snuggling into him.  She made the sign for ‘I love you dum dum,’ and he felt himself melting a little more at the girl that stole his heart in an entirely new way.

“Well what do we have here?” a voice called loudly.

Ransom frowned when he saw his daughter in the entryway of the sitting room, a man who he’d recognized as another trust fund asshole who was pretty close to his own age on her arm.  His nose twitched as the expensive cologne swam over them in a tidal wave.

“Eddie…” Ransom growled, sucking on his teeth.

Off to the corner, Rose, surprised at the noise, had jumped in her grandmother’s arms, and had begun to cry. 

“Ugh,” Lily groaned, “will someone shut that little brat up!”

“Excuse you?”

The room went silent as Jess came back in from the kitchen, a warmed bottle in her hand.

“Go shut your little bastard up, will you?” Lily groaned as she stepped into the room and started towards the bar to make herself a drink.

Maritza shrunk into Ransom’s arms, trying to make herself as small as possible.

Jess saw red when she stalked towards her stepdaughter, and ripped the sunglasses from her face, throwing them to the ground, “don’t you dare call your little sister a bastard, Lily Drysdale!”

“THOSE WERE SIX HUNDRED DOLLAR GLASSES!” she shrieked, rage filling her voice, “WHAT IN THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?”

“Lil-“

“YOU ARE NOT MY MOTHER, JESS!” She screamed at her former friend, eyes glassy as she screamed at the woman she practically grew up with, “DON’T START ACTING LIKE IT JUST BECAUSE MY DAD COULDN’T PULL OUT!”

“Lily!”

“This is why I don’t come to these stupid family functions,” she spat, glaring at her great grandfather.  She shook her head and Harlan frowned, “I tried.  But her.  My dad.  Grandma.  And now you have my ex-husband and his new whore-“

Lily stopped speaking when Jess slapped her hard across the face.

“You will not talk down on the people in this room, Lily Drysdale!” Jess said in a low, even tone.  She ripped the drink out of her stepdaughter’s hands and tossed it into the fireplace beside her, “we came together because we are a family…and we’re here for each other, despite our differences.  If you can’t support that, if you want to act like a spoiled brat in front of us…in front of your own daughter who you haven’t seen since that court case, then you can leave.  Because we don’t need that toxicity, Lily!  We’re doing just fine without you!”

Lily, surprised that someone had actually stood up to her, looked to her father, her lip wobbling as she looked to him for support, “d-daddy….ar-are you going to let her talk to me like that?”

Ransom swallowed down everything he had felt about his own relationship with his daughter.  He looked into his arms to see his own granddaughter.  Her smile having long since faded since her mother came into the room, she was clinging to him like she was scared for her life. 

‘Make her go away, dum dum…’ she signed, the fear evident in her eyes. 

Ransom brushed the hair out of her eyes and looked at his daughter once more.

“What the hell did she sign?” Lily growled as she pushed herself away from the tense situation with Jess, “she wants me here, doesn’t she?  Tell Jess to fuck off an-“

“You need to leave, Lil…” Ransom said with a frown as he cut his daughter off.  He looked to Curtis and passed Maritza back to her father, then crossed the room, looping his arm around his wife’s waist, “you can’t be here…not like this, Lil…”

[saisok]

09.29.24

October, you’re around the corner? You mean to tell me we’re this closer to Christmas??!! Wait, I mean thanksgiving?!?!

My little boy is now at the age where he knows what Christmas is but doesn’t understand when it’s supposed to arrive (trust me, I’ve explained numerous of times) He’s also learning about that big guy Santa. All I know is, he’s afraid of him lol. He knows not to be naughty before Christmas but again, he’s been naughty all year long. Kids……

I decided to take hunter to the park Saturday morning because his dad had to work a few hours in the morning. We took a nice scroll around the neighborhood and was a bit bummed when we arrived at the park. I forgot it rained a few days ago and the slides had water inside. He told me it’s okay and we can go back home ha. He’s lazy to walk.

Taking his sweet time on his scooter.

Taking his water break

and to play his Roblox.

Mr. Cool biker dude.

We also had a party to attend yesterday. I’m a bit sick of all the weekend parties. I need my rest.

It was Kenny bday(Older sis husband and my Husband best friend from Cali. We hooked him up with my sister and he also moved down to Houston for her). My sister decorated and planned everything at her house to celebrate his 37th bday. Dang we are old as heck. Her house was filled with all his friends. It was a nice weekend though. We ate and had a great time.

I woke up and went to pick up my niece this morning because my son wanted to play with her. Kids and the hubby was getting hungry so I ordered pizza. I dropped her off later and almost forgot that I have a potluck tomorrow for the Big Boss bday. I quickly ran to Walmart neighborhood market and grabbed a few things. I was planning on making Curry Chicken but they didn’t sell the curry sauce I was looking for. Because I made Pho last week, I had leftover noodles and decided to make stir fried chicken noodles. Had the hubby taste test and he approved!

Doesn’t look appetizing in this picture but trust me, it’s good. I taste tested myself lol.

I need another vacation!

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

Taylor Swift Lyric Fic Titles Masterlist

and i will hold on to you (ao3) - jbhmalum michael/calum T, 2k

Summary: Right there, sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor in nothing but a pair of boxers and one of Michael’s hoodies and flipping through a bunch of polaroids, the soft glow of the candles he’d bought Michael for Christmas illuminating the right side of his face, is Calum. - It’s the beginning of the year, and maybe the start of something else, too.

Can I Go Where You Go? (Can We Always Be This Close Forever and Ever?) (ao3) - Anonymous luke/calum, andrew/liz T, 1k

Summary: Whatever Luke’s opinions are, are one-hundred percent okay to have. “What if they don't like me?”

Calum frowns, running his fingers through Luke’s curls. “Darling, pride parades are about self-acceptance and love. Hell, that’s why Pride month became a thing in the first place.” He hugs Luke back, tighter than his boyfriend had. “Besides, people attend parades to love themselves unapologetically, not to garner approval from anybody else, per se.”

(Or where it’s Luke’s first pride, and Calum is determined to make it the best.)

give you my sunshine, give you my best (ao3) - lifewasradical luke/ashton T, 2k

Summary: Luke knew it was a bad day from the moment that he and Ashton woke up. Correction, Luke was having a perfectly fine day, almost bordering on a good day, but from the second that he laid eyes on Ashton in the bathroom as he brushed his teeth, he had the inkling that this was not going to be a good day for Ashton.

Or, Ashton has a bad day and Luke tries to work it out with him.

i don’t like a gold rush (ao3) - jbhmalum luke/calum, background calum/ashton T, 7k

Summary: Luke keeps having thoughts about Calum. The only issue is, Luke isn’t into boys, and he doesn’t want to be. (inspired by gold rush by taylor swift)

It’s nice to have a friend (ao3) - NovaDevil michael/calum N/R, 1k

Summary: If you ask Calum how he ended up here, he’ll probably laugh and say he has no fucking idea but he’s glad anyway.

But right now, on a lazy Sunday afternoon, he has all the time in the world to take a reminiscing look back at everything that’s happened since he was just a little kid in Sydney, and the one fixed feature through it all.

my thoughts will echo your name (ao3) - lifewasradical michael/calum G, 3k

Summary: “Have we met?” A voice says, pulling out the chair next to him and sitting down without an invitation, knee bumping against Michael’s under the table.

Looking up, Michael finds the eyes that had been staring at him across the room.

“I don’t think so,” Michael says softly, words barely carrying across the space, only a whisper from his lips.

no body, no crime (ao3) - jbhmalum luke/ashton, luke/calum, michael/calum M, 11k

Summary: “Calum’s been cheating on me.”

The words are blurted out just like that. They echo loud in the restaurant, drowning out any other sound. Ashton blinks.

“What?”

He expects Luke to shout gotcha! before telling him he’s just been fighting with his family or that he didn’t get the promotion he’s been wanting for months. He expects anything that would tell him this is just a cruel joke.

None of that happens. Instead Luke’s eyes fill with tears before he breaks down into sobs, hiding his face behind his hands.

OR

the no body, no crime songfic no one asked for

scratches down your back now (ao3) - orphan_account luke/ashton G, 467

Summary: 5 times Calum and Michael noticed something different between Ashton and Luke, and 1 time they asked about it.

that's the thing about illicit affairs (ao3) - sunsetmagnolia calum/ashton M, 1k

Summary: “I hope you don’t get in over your head.”

Calum pictures the man he met earlier that night. The combination of tired eyes, hungry mouth, chewing on ice when his drink was finished, inviting Calum out like he was issuing a challenge. The ice maker under the counter shakes out a groan as it starts back up. He’s not one to back out on a dare.

there’s glitter on the floor after the party (ao3) - lifewasradical luke/ashton T, 1k

Summary: It’s the very first page of the new year, a few special hours spent with their loved ones but culminated by nothing more than the two of them, there at the end of the fireworks show even after the darkness has surrounded them. The past year wasn’t perfect, and the new one won’t be either, but there’s moments like these that linger, reminders that there is always something to look back on fondly.

there’s glitter on the floor after the party (ao3) - haveufoundwhaturlookingfor michael/ashton T, 1k

Summary: The aftermath of Michael and Ashton’s first new year’s eve party as a married couple.

the road not taken looks real good now (ao3) - lifewasradical michael/luke T, 6k

Summary: Twisting to put the carton into his handbasket, Luke looks up down the aisle. At the end, bathed in yellow cream lighting, is Michael.

Michael, who Luke hasn’t seen since a few days before his departure years ago. Michael, who Luke hasn’t really thought of over the past few years, too wrapped up in his own life to check upon the people he used to know.

Michael, Luke’s first and only ex boyfriend, staring him down like he’s sure Luke is going to disappear into thin air if he takes his eyes off of him for one minute.

a (kinda) ‘tis the damn season song fic

this is me trying (ao3) - no_clue_who M, 3k

Summary: He heard a soft knock on his door and then another flash of lighting. There’s another knock, a little louder, and another clap of thunder. Ashton moved towards the front door and heard something before he opened the door, twisting the doorknob and opening it.

Luke was standing on his doorstep, slowly getting drenched with Petunia’s leash in his hands.

“Luke?”

“I’m,” was all Luke could get out before another clap of thunder rang out above and made Luke flitch.

This Love Came Back to Me (ao3) - thatfangirlingfreak luke/calum, michael/ashton G, 1k

Summary: Luke is about to meet his soulmate, according to his watch. But what if he loses his chance?

waited for something to come along (that was as good as our song) (ao3) - skatershelley (craicshelley) luke/ashton T, 2k

Summary:

Ashton liked the pretend he doesn’t hear the first few pebbles bounce off his window. He knew Luke knew this, but it never stopped him from waiting. Except for the time he left his window open one night and the first one flew straight in and hit Ashton’s bedroom door. After that he always made sure his window was closed on Saturday nights. One pebble. Two pebbles. Three pebbles. Ashton counted in his head and got up from his desk chair on cue, walked over and opened the window enough to stick his head out.

Luke and Ashton - Our Song by Taylor Swift

would it be enough, if i could never give you peace? (ao3) - bellawritess michael/ashton T, 1k

Summary: Michael is tired.

you are in love, true love (ao3) - osweir michael/calum N/R, 2k

Summary: They stare into each other’s eyes for a while, before Michael breaks the silence.

“You’re my best friend,” he whispers, and it sounds different this time.

You belong with me (ao3) - mukeinblue michael/luke N/R, 2k

Summary: Luke has always been in love with Michael but what happens on their prom night?

[pipelinelaserraygun]

Coverage of our homeless assembly-line care packages prep and its distribution to the broken and hungry along Skid Row, in San Diego.

John Paul participated with us, in spirit. There was ⬆️ unusually high activity on the streets, during Easter month.

https://www.si.com/mlb/padres/news/padres-to-acquire-dylan-cease-from-chicago-white-sox-report-nc2000

Pay attention to ⏰ TIMING.

Our ⚾ Family are diehard Padres fans.

Ceremonies were held THIS week. John Paul Salazar ⬆️ went to Heaven.

FROM the Pearly Gates alive and well, John likely asked our Lord to send us a BIG "thank you", for all our work behind-the-scenes.

Last night, less than 24 hours before TODAY'S monthly 🎁 homeless outreach, of which John participated in quality control: a blockbuster trade.

Happy Christmas, to ALL❣️

Please PERFORM ⬆️ charity:

Soledad worked till around 4:00 a.m. this morning 🍭, making 80 candy bags.

This ⬆️ video was shot MORE than 10 years ago.

I posted it about 3 years 🔙, to keep a permanent record.

It's a long body of work that is testament to serving God.

👑👰🏽 Christ's Bridal Party, DON'T leave quality control up to others: "Affluent White Female Liberals" abbreviation

Affluent

White

Female

Liberals = AWFUL S

Pay attention to ⏰ TIMING.

This SAME week, Mark of Team Jesus took me to lunch and we enjoyed cuisine from India. Pictured here is a stew of sea bass with a pineapple coconut curry. In a heartbeat, I'd go back for 🗳️ seconds❣️

Given a choice, I would vote for the candidate who helps conservatives and Christians.

Stay away from those who 👺🎶 DON'T face the music.

[meditating-dog-lover]

Intermittent fasting day 6

I woke up at 7 and went back to bed at 10 yesterday. I overslept and woke up at 2, which is an hour past when my feeding window starts (at 1). When I woke up at 7 I was a tiny bit bloated (I've been bloated since the night before after I had the sandwich) When I woke up at 2 it was better. My bloating overall has gotten better with the fasting (during both my feeding and fasting windows). Sometimes my stomach might get a bit larger when I'm hungry because it is gurgling. Though I feel lighter and less bloated.

I ate just like I did yesterday. I did something different with my dinner. I turned the avocado sandwich I usually make into avocado toast with an egg, 1 slice of cheese, and leafy greens (I pretty much replaced the slice of cheese I normally have with an egg here and had 1 piece of toast instead of 2 for a sandwich). It was good and filling. I had fish for lunch.

I did not go for a walk. I spent the whole day with my dad sitting in the living room and even playing a card game. Honestly my dad has cooled down and became extremely laid back compared when we were children and he was strict and used to hit us and yell at us. He let me go for walks alone late at night (he wouldn't even let me leave the house or have a sleepover or go to a party when I was a teenager, or even open social media or upload my pictures). And not once did he raise his voice at me, at all. I know I grew up into a well adjusted and successful adult, so I know he is so proud of me. Also I know him being away from his family helped him a lot. I know he loved his mom, but she made his life hell. I hate to say this, but when she passed away I feel like that lifted a weight off his shoulders. Not that he wasn't sad, but I think he felt some relief. But I know the things putting him down and making him stressed is money and loneliness (he lives away from us due to work). He was very down in summer 2022 for this reason and because his close friend and uncle died (and they were both young).

It sucks when you have to deal with generational trauma from your parent. It's like you have an obligation to heal yourself AND the parent who passed on the generational trauma. My dad in this case. I wan to end the lineage and I want to see my dad heal. My dad is not a bad person. But I hated dealing with the trauma. I wasn't allowed to go out, to date, to open social media, to put my pictures on social media, put up a Christmas tree, no dogs, etc... He also used to yell at us a lot and used to hit us. And we were very boring altogether and had no hobbies and wouldn't do fun activities like traveling. So it was a very miserable feeling growing up, especially when we were trapped in my grandmother's house. Like I've said before, living in his home country was traumatic and I unfortunately do not feel a strong connection to it and don't go back often. Only to visit family, but that's about it. Life there is so overwhelming and complex. Especially as a young woman who wants to be free and independent and financially secure.

But thankfully I no longer have to worry about that anymore. Because I am free and independent and financially secure (I'm not rich, I'm secure though which is more than what I can ask for). I have my own job and my own bank account and my own electronic and social media who no one has access to anymore. I have 2 dogs and I've never imagined I would ever have 2. I've always wanted 1 when was younger and envied people who had dogs, but now I have 2. And yeah I am allowed to put up a Christmas tree. And I'm not religious so thankfully I don't have to struggle with religious indoctrination and force. And that is a problem for people (especially women) in the cultural upbringing. And I can travel to the Mediterranean and enjoy walking on beaches. And I'm becoming healthier overtime as I wasn't exposed to health habits growing up. But I will give credit to my dad for introducing me to intermittent fasting, and I know it will dramatically transform my already good health.

So even though I didn't go for a walk, I am happy I stayed home with my dad. This visit really made me realize and remember how much he has changed compared to when we were growing up. He does have the occasional freakout, but he never takes anything out on me and allows me to do whatever I want. I can walk in the dark, own 2 dogs, and have my own bank account and electronics and social media accounts. Even at home with my mom and at work I am free since my boss doesn't micromanage me. I love being free and secure.

[rere-the-writer]

If you don’t mind could you do a Mikaelsons x reader where it’s their first Christmas with Hope (reader is the mom)

Just so everyone knows I am going to be doing a lot of Christmas fics

Warnings: just a lot of Fluff, cute Hope

Hope was excited though the year old didn't know what was happening, she was just going off of your excitement. You were excited to spend Christmas with your new baby since you always wanted to be a mother. Hope babbled around her binky pointing at the decorations which amused you.

"It is your first Christmas, my sweet girl." You cooed bouncing your daughter who giggled smiling at you. Hayley glared at you, the wolf had been hanging around your family since Klaus had tricked her. Klaus had told Hayley that he'll help her find her birth pack but he only used her.

"Someone is excited." Elijah says smiling when Hope squealed at him and Elijah leaned down kissing her chubby cheek. Your eyes were bright with joy seeing that Elijah was wearing the sliver tie you wanted him wear.

"This is her first Christmas and I want it to be special for her." You tell Elijah letting him take the girl. You had seen how soft your lovers gotten over Hope and surprised that Klaus threw a Christmas gala.

"We all want it to be special for our little one." Elijah says kissing Hope's hand as she gave him a toothless smile. You looked at Hayley for a moment then back at Elijah.

"Why is Hayley still here? Didn't she find her wolf pack?" You asked taking Hope back to feed her and Elijah followed after you.

"That I do not know. Niklaus says the girl is trying to get him to help the pack." Elijah answered you watching Hope latch onto you to eat as he grabbed a a baby towel and other things.

"I thought you were breast pumping darling?" Kol asked sitting next to you when he walked in. Kol hadn't saw you during the gala so he went looking for you.

"It is broken, I have to get a new one." You answered watching Hope as more of your lovers came into the room also looking for you.

"This is where you ran off to." Klaus says walking over gently rubbing Hope's head and Finn kissing your temple.

"I wasn't running off, our baby was hungry. You guys could have stay with the party." You say passing Hope off to Elijah who began to burp the girl. You began to fix yourself but Rebekah took over for you.

"True but when our little one and wife is no longer seen, we worry." Rebekah says kissing your cheek after you stood up. You sigh tried not laugh finding your lovers adorable when worried.

"But Elijah was with me and Hope. So no need to worry." You said walking with Rebekah and the men following after. Hayley was quick to look over at your group and swooning at the sight of Elijah holding Hope.

"After the party we should ready a bonfire." You say taking your baby into your arms when Hope whined for you.

"We will love. But let's get a picture of Hope'sfirst Christmas." Klaus says into your ear making you smile. You had been asking your lovers to do a family photo of Hope's first Christmas but they were always busy.

"Could I join?" You heard Hayley ask making you stop looking at the wolf and Finn narrowed his eyes. Klaus raised an eyebrow looking Hayley over.

"Family only little wolf. I believe Jackson is looking for you." Klaus says turning the wolf away and Elijah leading you to a pair of chairs. You sat in one with Hope in your lap and Rebekah in the other, Elijah stood behind Rebekah's and Finn behind yours. Klaus standing between the chairs and Kol next to yours, the photographer readied to take a photo. While Hayley watched feeling a little jealous.

--

After the party was over, you stood next to Christmas tree holding Hope. The baby girl had her head on your shoulder as she was in awe of the color lights and glass ornaments.

"This one was made by your grandmother. And this one is from grandpa after you were born." You whispered showing Hope the ornaments your parents gifted you. This got the attention of your lovers seeing Hope falling asleep to your soft tone.

"This one is from your uncle Bruce and Clark. Aunt Diana gifted this one hearing it was your first Christmas."

"Showing her the ornaments, love?" Klaus said walking up kissing Hope's head and looking at the ornaments the family collected over the centuries.

"Yeah, she seems enchanted by the tree." You say seeing that Hope fell asleep and felt Elijah stepped up behind you kissing your temple.

"How about we sit in the den and relax for the night." Elijah says softly as you nodded sitting down.

"I was thinking we could head up to the farm so Hope could have a quiet first Christmas."

"It would be nice to see your parents again." Finn says sitting down next to you rubbing Hope's hand with his fingers.

"Okay, I'll call ma and pa in the morning then." You tell them as you relaxed talking about plans for Christmas all while you smiled kissing Hope's head. You were really excited for Hope's first Christmas.

[summers-pratt]

Tell me all your best wholesome Spuffy headcanons

This is an insane ask and you are going to get an insane answer, I have so many floating around in the ten vegetable soup that is my brain and I'm just gonna ladle out a bowl right now, I hope you're hungry

-Spike obviously writes Buffy poems all the fucking time, sonnets, odes, limericks, rambling streams of consciousness, about how her hair catches the light, all the different smiles she gives him throughout the day, absolutely filthy descriptions of him going down on her, how she is a warrior and his hero, how she fills him up and makes him and remakes him and how deeply she has become a part of him, what just sitting next to her on the couch in their home feels like, and he fills notebooks with them, he scribbles them on napkins and the backs of receipts and post its and whatever paper he has on hand, he leaves them in her pocket or under her juice glass in the morning, softly recites them to her when she's falling asleep or when they're having (relatively tame (for them) and therefore easy to speak during) sex, she notices him scribling away at one and he lets her read them, and every time he doesn't expect anything and for her to laugh or say they're not that good and every time she is completely floored by the depth of his feeling for her and the things he sees in her and the way he sees her and every time he can't believe she actually likes what he writes, that she understands what he means and is touched and affected by it the same way he is

-they share jewelry. She still absolutely has the skull ring and sometimes she wears it on her finger and other times it's on a chain around her neck. I like the idea that Buffy has a name necklace like Dawn has in Tabula Rasa (maybe they were Christmas gifts from their parents one year), and Buffy gives hers to Spike and he wears it every single day. He thinks it marks him as hers and he fuckng loves it.

-they take so many pictures. With cameras, in photo booths, once they figure out cell phones they use them non stop. They have the normal smiling ones of them and their friends and Dawn at birthday parties and dinner and day to day nice moments, and then they also have ones of Buffy beheading a demon on patrol, Spike making fangs out of onion blossom, each one tries to catch the other one crying at movies. Also they absolutely sext each other all the time and it's filthy and they love it

-when Dawn teaches them how to text, Spike's first text is to Buffy and it's "what are you wearing" despite her sitting right next to him on the couch. She takes a full two minutes to type out what underwear she has on and he keeps trying to peek over her shoulder but finally she manages it and they race off to their bedroom and Dawn tries very hard not to think about anything as she leaves

-Buffy finally gives in and listens to Spike's carefully curated playlist of Punk Songs To Show Buffy To Get Her To Like Punk Rock, and it fucking works

-Spike rents every ice skating movie he can get his hands on and they make a movie night out of it every time

-Buffy helps Spike bleach his hair. Obviously.

-Spike takes Buffy and Dawn to the ice capades when it comes to town every year after learning she used to love going when she was younger and he actually ends up having a great time and Dawn cannot believe how lame her parents are

-Buffy buys weird spicy sauces at the store for Spike to try just because and he almost cries helping her put the groceries away

-they go through a lot of furniture, from demons coming in and smashing stuff to sparring going to far to getting so wrapped up in their crazy super-powered sex that they don't notice they broke their third coffee table of the month, so the local secondhand shops LOVE them, they think they're interior designers or realtors or something and think it's just lovely a young couple also work together, and so successfully if they keep coming in

-Buffy wears Spike's button up shirts over her tank tops and bralettes all the time

-so we know Spike has a hair kink so of course he loves running his fingers through her hair, he does it absent-mindedly, but Buffy also love running her hands through Spike's hair and he also loves it and he purrs whenever she does it for awhile

-they have monster movie nights with Dawn where they watch horrible cheesy vampire movies and make fun of them

-Buffy makes Spike tea. It is the worst tea he has ever had but she has a special mug she uses and a tea strainer that is shaped like a heart and she buys all kinds of weird spicy teas that she thinks he might like and she proudly presents it to him and it is his favorite tea he has ever had

[http-tokki]

— ୨୧₊˚ katsuki bakugou

ᰔ one-shot: 1k + word count ᰔ drabbles: less than 1k word count ᰔ thirsts and thoughts: less than 500 word count ᰔ

All triggers/content will be tagged/ in description.

‧₊˚✧[one shots]✧˚₊‧

coming soon

‧₊˚✧[drabbles]✧˚₊‧

where are you going? (sfw) im trying to thank you (nsfw) latex and baby powder (sfw) happy birthday, pretty girl (sfw) youre...its's dynamight (sfw) katsuki walking on you in the shower (sfw) this is my best friend, katsuki and he's an ally (sfw)

‧₊˚✧[imagines]✧˚₊‧

you are my dream (sfw) christmas party 2023 (sfw) need'a pee (nsfw) everywhere i go, i keep a picture in my wallet even as a worm? (sfw) gum (sfw) sharing cake? (sfw) katsuki comes home late (nsfw) really? never? (nsfw) you were meant to be mine v 1.0 v 2.0 (nsfw) domestic headcanons (nsfw) sfw domestic headcanons katsuki and his black tank top (nsfw) who hurt you? (sfw) bakusquad shenanigans part one it's just head (nsfw) best friend katsuki (nsfw) hugging 'suki (sfw) chapstick (sfw) im hungry, can you hurry up (sfw) i bet i could make you finish (nsfw) you get jealous (nsfw) do you need help fixing it? (nsfw) protective bestie katsuki (sfw) you needed me (sfw) one day, but not today (sfw)

‧₊˚✧[draft dumps]✧˚₊‧

christmas party (sfw) you were supposed to be the one (sfw)

‧₊˚✧[links]✧˚₊‧ home ᰔ ask ᰔ tags

[cryxtal-moon]

Snaps – jjk

Summary: A tale of you as Jungkook’s assistant while he goes around with a camera strapped to his neck. More accurately, you being annoyed at him treating you like a mini helper and him cheekily taking more than six months to admit he loves you.

Genre/warnings: photographer!Jungkook, assistant/music producer!reader, neighbours au, fluff

Word count: 10k

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Author’s note: This is my very first JK post. Thank you for reading!

Your ringtone and alarm must have decided to conspire together the night prior since both were screeching at the unconscious depths of your brain to bring you back to reality. Checking the caller ID wasn’t required – there was only one person who would give you such a rude awakening.

“Hel-“

“Snow! Finally! What took you so long?”

“... it’s seven thirty. In the morning. You told me to be up by eight.”

“But I’m hungry,” his whining on the other end was nearly as bad as the alarm, one you shut off with a slam. “I want bean sprout rice with kimchi, galbi and cold cucumber soup. And pork tonkatsu.”

Your face took on the same expression as an emoji with three short lines for its eyes and mouth. “Will that be all?”

“One cappuccino too, please.”

“Alright Jeon, thank you for ordering room service,” sweet sarcasm dripped from your tone like honey, “your food will be delivered shortly.”

Unbeknownst to you, your muffled groan was audible through the speaker, making him chuckle.

⊱✿⊰

A white pot of violet orchids perched on the small corner of your designated desk reminded you that your boss wasn’t as annoying as you thought. Jeon Jungkook didn’t buy gifts for you often, or even at all, so to say you were surprised by it six months into your time as an assistant was an understatement.

It confused you from the very beginning as to why a professional photographer had placed a job offer for someone to be his administrative assistant. You had soon discovered the reason after taking a curious peek into his online portfolio and resume – the number of pictures and videos he had taken during his time as a freelancer, all organised under specific categories you might add, starting from before college to various art galleries he had featured at, had made him one of the most sought-after photographers in your small town.

Weddings, parties, galas, magazine covers, news coverage, birthdays, family portraits, Christmas or Halloween... the list was seemingly endless. For someone at the tender age of twenty-two, he had a dream he set out and accomplished, but with the rise to fame came hectic schedules and tight deadlines, which was the entire reason you were there.

Saying “no” to events meant denying himself the source of his rather large income. Jungkook became aware with his increasing popularity that he needed someone to manage his time for him, answer calls for commissions, pen down his arrangements on a planner, freshen up between shoot sessions and made sure he ate three square meals a day. In essence, you felt like weren’t his secretary so much as you were his maid. You just thanked your lucky stars that your uncle’s chef expertise had rubbed off very well on you before you moved out of your home.

A combination of convenience and cooking skills were the main selling point for him to take you in immediately, not the degree you had in music and composition you actually poured your blood, sweat and tears into for four years. “Convenience” referred to the fact that your new apartment sat directly opposite his, yet his still insisted you go over five days a week to keep him, more correctly his kitchen, company.

Metal creaking jolted you out of your thoughts, stare shifting from purple and white petals to the figure gliding past your desk after Jungkook exited his studio, coming to a stop in front of you to shoot his smirk your way.

“Ready to go, snow?”

Your compulsion to roll your eyes at the nickname was overpowered by shoving a planner you used for him into your work bag. The only time you remembered him calling you by your actual name was when you had first met him along the corridor. Winter had overtaken autumn in November, the same month you moved in, snowflakes stuck themselves into your eyelashes and hair, refusing to melt and causing him to call you out for it.

You reviewed his schedule for the day after slipping into his car. Words you’d scribbled in black informed you of the location you were headed for the day; a magazine shoot for three important businessmen, who had gone from creating codes for protecting computers from malware to developing an artificial intelligence personal assistant to help the disabled, particularly those who were illiterate.

“Did you bring everything?” Jungkook spoke over the classical music streaming from his speakers, casting a glance at you briefly.

You peeked into a backpack you always brought along with you. “Water bottle, fan, spare batteries, extra SD card, and–“ you jabbed a thumb over your shoulder “–your tripod’s in the trunk.”

“And my camera?”

“Back seat. Or attached to your neck.”

He chuckled at your bluntness, “You know me too well, snow. How about lunch?”

“Lunch?” The grip you had to hold the book open went slack, thoughts picturing his fridge that you knew could use refilling, “I didn’t have time to cook this morning. You’re almost out of food, by the way.”

“Hm…” four of his fingers drummed in a wave pattern on the wheel, eyes fixated on the road, “then let’s eat out for today. Oh, and we’re going shopping after this, so add that in.”

“Shopping?”

“I’m attending a gala one week from now,” the words had you scanning the calendar for the exact date to write it down, “I need a new suit.”

“If you say so. Where’s the gala going to be held?”

“Luxe Resort.”

The five star hotel’s name would have made anyone else choke on air, but not you. Accompanying him extravagant places were something you had gotten accustomed to in knowledge of his line of work. He could knock on your door with tickets to New York, Milan or Paris and you wouldn’t even blink.

“Got it.”

Sky blue reflecting off the glass panels of the building’s exterior with steel lining the edges greeted you upon stepping out of the outdoor, sheltered carpark. Still, your time to admire the company’s name etched in gold on the glass double doors was cut short in order to pull the backpack and tripod, both of equal weight, over your shoulders, trudging behind him while frowning at the black leather strap he slung around his neck. His camera was the only thing he willingly carried with him.

Entering the reception with his long strides paired with his usual confident swagger caught the attention of the lady behind the counter, and this time you did roll your eyes at the wink he gave her in thanks for confirming the appointment. A fake smile pulled the corners of your lips when he slipped the guest ID lanyard over your head with an affectionate ruffle of your hair.

“There you go, snow. Now follow me.”

Once you reached the studio, you fell into your usual routine – Jungkook shaking hands with the set designer and models, you setting up the tripod where the camera was fitted on top. There were no interactions with anyone except those who approached you first. The models were especially off-limits, as well as those with a higher-up position who visited the set just to monitor the progress.

You positioned yourself in a corner at a distance from the rest of the staff where you didn’t bother them, but close so you could help your boss. This was him in his element, peering through a lens, directing the positions of the models in that polite yet slightly authoritative tone, making requests for adjustments to lighting, searching for the perfect angle and shot size.

Tripod standby came next, the part of the shoot where Jungkook transferred his camera to and fro from the stand to hand-held shots, you adjusting the height according to what he wanted, then pulling it away entirely if he didn’t need it.

It was in the switch from group to solo shots did he need you to be on what you deemed “assistant duties”, because nothing irritated you more than him snapping his fingers at you, a sign he wanted a drink from his water bottle. Gazes of those around you burned the same way your cheeks did watching you wait on him to finish taking a gulp, a second pat on your head prompting someone to murmur behind you Is she his assistant or his girlfriend?

You weren’t sure which was worse.

The end of the shoot came precisely when the hour and minute hands signified one on your watch, everyone thanking each other for their hard work, models clapping Jungkook on the back or shaking his hand as he promised them he could be back the next time they needed him. None, save a mussed-hair stressed intern who gave you a thumbs-up, spared you a glance while you packed up, trailing behind him to the car after depositing the lanyards.

“Where to now?” You sighed at him settling in the driver’s seat, placing the tripod in the backseat carefully.

“Shopping, remember? Seokjin said Jewel Mall sells the best suits.”

Three digit numbers slashed across price tags in bold set alarm bells off in your head, but it was his bank account taking the hit and not yours, so you voiced out, “Okay. You’re the boss.”

⊱✿⊰

More concerned stares were thrown your way, this time by the attendants stationed around the suit shop who watched the sole patron place blazers and pants over your outstretched left arm. After six, you lost track of the number, busy hoping your glare burned through his button-down shirt every time he had his back to you.

The fanciful changing rooms gave your feet welcome relief as you sank down into one of the cream couches, all of his choices laid out next to you to be handed to him one by one. Jungkook wasn’t kidding about the whole “personal assistant” deal. You just hadn’t see it coming that it included this, not as you picked at the gold fabric lining the exterior of a throw pillow.

You should have felt out of place in your casual attire – white shirt, light wash jeans, sneakers and clover green jacket – though you learnt three months into the job that the workers cared more about the person with a heavier wallet and sparkling credit cards filling the spaces between them. Piano music streaming through the speakers softly, a song you recognised to be Nocturnes in E Flat Major Op. 9 by Chopin and Rubinstein, relaxed your stature that little bit more into the back rest and had your hands gently tapping on the top of your jean-clad knees to the rhythm.

Till the curtain of Jungkook’s changing room was yanked aside with a dramatic flourish.

The number one reason females you met in his photo shoots stayed was because they were makeup artists, but being in the background, you observe their eyes trailing onto your boss and staying there, whispering to each other behind cupped hands to hide flushed cheeks. Because of one simple fact, a fact your imbecilic heart couldn’t deny since the first day you met him in the corridor.

Jungkook was undeniably more handsome than you gave him credit for. Watching him then, donning a navy blue blazer and matching dress pants in the same white button-down, your vital organ couldn’t help its little stutter. How he hadn’t dated anyone was a mystery to you; he had the ability to charm anyone into falling for him.

“How do I look, snow?” Long, slow steps accompanied the equally dramatic sweeping of his hair away from his forehead, coming to a stop inches away from you with a smirk.

“Try the rest of them on and we’ll see,” your flickering gaze was in time with mentally counting those laid on the couch. “You still have eight more to go. Yay.”

“Aww, come on,” the jut his lower lip paired with large puppy eyes almost had your heart doing another flip, “would it kill you to admit that I look good?”

“Probably. But…” against your self-control, you got to your feet and helped insert the sole button into its little placement, “you’ll have to find someone else to be your assistant when I die, and I don’t want them to go through that sort of pain, so yes,” you sighed, “you don’t look half bad.”

The effect of his scoff was diminished by the smile perking the corners of his lips up. “Half bad? Please. I’m handsome. Say it.”

“For real?”

“Say I’m handsome.”

“Why?”

One tug on your waist had Jungkook’s breath fanning your face, any distance between you eliminated, “Say it.”

His touch seared through your clothes, translating into rose clouds traitorously dusting the apples of your cheeks, silence stretching for a prolonged period of time where none of you were able to break eye contact, you being much too distracted by the sudden deafening pound in your ears to do anything.

When your brain could resume its normal function, you quipped, “You look better in a hoodie.”

His groan and complaint about your stubbornness made you beam for the first time that day.

⊱✿⊰

Twelve straps threatening to pierce through the sleeves of your jacket had the glare returning to the crease of your eyebrows. Jungkook had finally made his mind up to buy three suits. The first in navy blue you refused to admit he looked half-decent in, the second in black and the third in sea green which many other guests who weren’t him couldn’t pull off, according to a cashier who dared to blatantly flirt back.

His shopping trip didn’t stop there, evidenced by three bags decorating each of your arms like they were branches of a Christmas tree. A new winter coat, a flannel, a couple shirts, and two pairs of jeans nestled themselves in soft white tissue and weighed you down. Your own bag was the lightest thing on you, resting on your back so it didn’t get mixed up in his purchases, jostling between your shoulder blades with every movement.

Plastic bags hanging off the crook of his fingers soothed your annoyance just a little. He was nice enough to carry his own groceries but busy enough to let you organise them for him in his refrigerator, tapping a finger to the space between your narrowed eyes for you to loosen up.

You took the liberty to pour your irritation out on the stand-up piano back in your living room, taking full advantage of the forte and crescendo printed against the score sheet stored in the back of your memory, then disregarding them altogether in the next few bars in your refusal to play softly. Only by propping your phone on the leather bench beside you were you able to hear it buzz over the keys, eyes widening at the notification that wasn’t from Jungkook.

It was your other source of income – people who commissioned you to score their published, online comics or animated videos for YouTube videos where they credited you at the end – a job where your college degree came into play. A quick jab of the pad of your thumb to the fingerprint passcode later, you were reading the author’s stamp of approval of the music file you had sent to him two days ago, the first draft he referred to in the current message asking you to finish it quickly because he loved it and wanted to listen to the whole thing.

You abandoned the piano, tucking white jade keys beneath a velvet cloth, in favour of the keyboard in your studio. The same file the author cited on your monitor hiked up against the wall displayed colourful round-edge rectangles while you triple-checked the plug connecting your keyboard to the recording app.

Hours into the process of playing around with your equipment and instruments, hands only leaving both when you made notes to a hardcopy sheet music for piano you’d edit digitally on a later date, a melody one notch louder than the violin strings through your headphones and coming from behind you had you spinning in your swivel chair, just to receive a full frontal of Jungkook’s smoulder where his shoulder braced against the door frame.

“You look adorable while you’re working, snow.”

How he took advantage of you leaving your gate open for him wasn’t surprising anymore. “Exactly how long have you been standing there?”

“Five minutes,” the photographer crossed the distance between you in three long strides, but your gaze trailed to the bay window where sunset painted the sky in streaks of gold, realisation hitting you of how late it had become.

A ceramic turtle paperweight almost toppled over in your frantic scramble for his notebook lying on a file of old score sheets. Scribbled in neat handwriting on his to-do list was Complete video of photo collage for a young girl’s birthday, whose parents had kindly requested of him through a phone call you received.

“You’re done with work?”

He was a blur of black in plopping down onto the cream love seat, leaning against the L-shaped corner of the desk. “Yup, are you?”

“Almost.”

The notebook was discarded back on the wooden surface to unplug your headphones and switch to using two speakers resting under the monitor when you saw his curious eyes wandering to the play button.

You merely gestured to the mouse in silent agreement, wheels of the chair moving you aside so he’d have space to sit in front of the screens. It was the first time you could actually see how someone reacted to the music and nothing else besides it, rather than just give you feedback in the body of an email, and it had butterflies flitting around inside the confines of your stomach.

A worse reaction came three minutes and forty-five seconds later, which was the entire duration of the song, your pencil clattering to the pieces of paper as a sudden weight dropped itself onto your shoulder.

“It’s amazing,” he grinned, fluffy locks tickling the exposed skin of your neck and shell of your ear you failed miserably to ignore, “you’re amazing.”

You managed a short huff, “Compliments won’t make me cook your favourite.”

“I mean it,” Jungkook punctuated each word more firmly. “You’re talented. Always have been.”

You barely dared to move. Eyes flickered around the room like candlelight to find something interesting to watch but they fell on his hand, noticing how it lay limply in his lap, fighting the sudden urge to slot your fingers through the gaps in his digits to see whether they’d fit by gripping the edge of your table till white formed around your knuckles.

Then, quietly, “I still want curry, though… can you cook curry?”

The usual annoyance in your sigh was gone thanks to those butterflies perching on the edge of your heart, “Okay. For you, Jeon.”

He lifted his head with a smile you couldn’t see, “Snow?”

Three inches separated your faces when you turned to him, shutting you up for a second. You were so close, his charm took effect in the way you could almost count each of his midnight lashes the edges of his dark bangs fluttered against, the adorable slope of his button nose leading to his petal lips that you would kill yourself to admit appeared tantalising.

“Y-yeah?”

“You know you’re my plus one for the gala, right?”

That, you didn’t, but it sent a shockwave through your vital organ for the butterflies to jolt away. “You… could have told me that sooner.”

Jungkook had the audacity to shorten the gap by an inch for you to see stars glittering in his chocolate irises, “Why?”

“I need a dress.”

Crystal chandeliers, glass flutes of champagne and small portions of fine dining on china platters flashed through your brain as fast as camera shutters clicking at the remembrance of the five-star hotel’s name. Nothing in your wardrobe was even close to their standard of formal attire.

“Alright, we’ll go back to Jewel tomorrow,” his smile was a little too easygoing compared to the slight furrow of your brows.

“I can’t afford that type of dress.”

“Then I’ll buy it for you,” a casual shrug, “no big deal.”

“I can’t let you do that either,” your frown deepened. “Never mind. I probably have an old dress somewhere I can–“

His warm lips chastely pressing themselves to the middle of your forehead came without prior warning. You went silent for a different reason this time, completely, utterly speechless in the wake of his actions, capable of doing nothing except stare at him with your mouth identical to that of a goldfish.

If Jungkook was affected too, it didn’t show in the smile dimpling the sides of his cheeks, “I’m buying it for you. End of discussion,” his large palm ruffled your hair affectionately, trailing down to ghost against your jawline. “Gosh, you drive me crazy sometimes, you know that, snow?”

Only after he exited the room did the person manning the controls in your mind thaw from the frozen state his kiss rendered it in, his words registering within five seconds and it took you half that time to leap out of your seat after him, your indignant yell echoing down the hallway,

“I drive you crazy?”

⊱✿⊰

Jungkook pulled your hands away from the price tag you’d snatched up the moment you approached the first gorgeous garment on a rack an attendant led you to, turning your widened eyes from the three digit number to his.

“I already told you I’d pay, didn’t I?” A nonchalant tilt of his head towards the dresses was useless in soothing the nervous thrum of your heart, “Go ahead. Try them on.”

He settled on a white leather couch in the middle of the circular changing room, the effects of the role reversal crashing over you like tidal wave to freeze you in place between the floor-to-ceiling mirror and the door. Three beautiful pieces hung from hooks nailed into the wall on transparent hangers, waiting for you to try on, though the soft, pliable material between your fingertips nearly had you bolting out of the mall in fear of ruining their luxuriousness.

The first you pulled on was a black off-the-shoulder with a pleated skirt, the top half hugging your silhouette not tight enough to suffocate but not loose enough to enjoy parading around in it for a whole evening. Looking at your skeptical expression frowning down at the garment told Jungkook all he needed to know. The second one was white and had thin spaghetti straps pressing themselves into your shoulders, flaring out to an A-line skirt from the waist down, yet your boss ushered you right back into the cubicle on account of getting something that could keep you warm so no additional jacket was necessary.

All doubts gathered from the first two garments erased themselves when the final one settled around your form. Pale blue was calming to the eyes of everyone who you’d come across two weeks from now, lace going over your left shoulder to give the illusion of a strap, the rest of the smooth fabric modestly covered your chest down to your knees. The only part of the material that cinched around your waist flowed down the skirt in the same direction as the lace.

“Um…” you squeaked in the silence, a tad louder than the classical music streaming through overhead speakers, “Jeon?”

Footsteps shuffled on carpeted ground, two gentle knocks against the closed door separating him from the view of you that he probably wouldn’t recognise, “Everything okay, snow?”

Fabric pinched between your thumb and index fingers reminded you that this wasn’t a dream. “I think this is it… yeah. This dress will do.”

His chuckle was sweeter than the B major key still playing above your heads, “Are you gonna show me?”

Panic had you whipping around, one hand flying to the handle to double check the lock, the other grasping the hem to pull it up and off of you, “Nope. It’s a surprise.”

“But that’s not fair, snow,” being temporarily blinded by the blue coating your vision in tugging the dress over your head didn’t stop your mind from seeing the pout in his whine, “I let you see me in a suit.”

“Too bad,” your giggle resonated with the clang of hangers together as you hid the garment between the first two you tried on. “Be patient.”

You sped past him the moment the lock clicked open and granted you access to the outside world, heading to the attendant who had helped you out earlier where she waited by the counter. Long strides quickened your pounding heart – you wouldn’t be surprised should Jungkook manage to catch a glimpse of the blue fabric she was carefully tucking into a black and white shopping bag.

“I should at least know what I’m paying for,” his quipped, eyeing the black satin straps gripped in the curve of your left palm and then the playful smile pulling at your lips, making one dimple into his own cheeks, “but okay.”

“Thank you,” you meant it with all the sincerity you could muster, the second part as well, “you can take the amount of my pay check if you want.”

“What? No way.”

“I’m not sure how else I can repay you, Jeon.”

Fingers softly grasped the edge of your chin to tilt your head up where you were granted a full view of the constellations in his irises, “First, call me Jungkook.”

You hoped your mute nod would suffice.

“Second,” he let go but intwined his digits in the spaces between your free hand to lead you both to the exit, “you can cook curry tonight, after the shoot.”

The tingling spreading up your arm affected your brain’s regular function, though it pulled up the schedule you were filling in that morning for him at your usual desk that he had a wedding shoot in the late afternoon in time for you to mumble, “Sure, okay.”

⊱✿⊰

A combination of overhead and umbrella lights reflecting off the chandelier strung above your head cast silver flecks onto your bare arms where you bent to adjust the height of the tripod legs. What shadowed them caught your attention midway through unscrewing the tight leg locks, gaze trailing up midnight blue chiffon where it flowed from the bride’s waist like a waterfall up to her gloved hand that was sending you a small wave.

“Hi, sorry,” her name surfaced in three seconds for you to match it to her face, Jiyeon, “I saw you come in with Jungkook and I was wondering; are you two a couple?”

Scorching heat coating your face a rosy red appeared to contradict the next words spoken in a rush to amend the misunderstanding, “Oh, no, we’re not. He– he’s my boss.”

“Ah,” Jiyeon giggled delicately, pearl pink lips hidden behind her white satin-covered palm, “I see. Apologies, Joon didn’t mention anything about him having an assistant so I thought, well…”

You shook your head, “It’s okay.”

Her heels clicked against the marble floor en route to a sofa set up in front of a white wall, though she looked back at you, a gleam in her eyes made verbal in expressing an afterthought, “You two look cute together, though.”

For once, you were grateful for the distance separating you from Jungkook, leaning against a corner of the studio with his bag clutched in knuckles whitened due to your harsh grip. This wasn’t the first wrong assumption you’d experience, definitely one of the bolder ones where the models asked about your relationship status outright, but compared to the whispers of the makeup artists in the last appointment her comment had your head spinning.

Couple, dare you say it aloud yourself, had numbness returning to where Jungkook sponged his lips to your forehead the night prior. An impulse decision on his part that kept jolting you awake just before dreams could overtake your subconscious. You didn’t know what it meant, too indignant because of his final statement to question his intention behind it, not to mention the normal bickering you went back to after it happened.

A sudden possibility crossed your mind, instantly spinning the room and adding a slight stumble in your step over one of the stray wires from an extension cord on set when he called for you, ignoring his gaze searing through your skin as you hoisted the tripod away from his spot.

There was no way he liked you. You blamed the ridiculous thought on the theme of the photoshoot getting to your head.

Jiyeon’s groom, Kim Namjoon, was the next to approach you when you retreated back into the corner to tick Indoor studio off the top spot of the to-do list, your eyes scanning Beach as the next location before his polished shoes came into view.

“You must be _____,” He stuck out a hand, flashing adorable dimples straight at you, “I’m Namjoon.”

“Nice to meet you,” you smiled, “and congratulations on your wedding.”

“Thank you. Just curious, you’re really Kookie’s neighbour?”

“Yup,” a chuckle made its way past your lips, “crazy coincidence, huh?”

There was a teasing sparkle in his eyes, identical to his fiancée’s in her last comment, “Does he treat you well?”

You hummed in pretend thought, though you stuck to the truth, “If you consider going shopping with him, cooking for him everyday and managing his schedule as him treating me well, then yes.”

Loud and unabashed laughter startled you slightly, “You sound more like his wife than his assistant.”

Time was cruel in not giving you enough seconds to find a suitable response to the second romantic reference of the day, as well as not telling you that the guy in question would wrap his hand around your waist.

“Don’t worry, hyung, I’m working on that,” Jungkook shot you an equally unabashed wink, reaching out to shove his friend’s shoulder. “Not everyone decides to tie the knot as fast as you. Anyway, we better get to the beach.” A quick tilt of his head to the first hues of orange that had begun to streak through the azure sky, “Don’t want to miss golden hour.”

Said golden hour was a term photographers used to describe the sunrise and sunset, one of the perfect times during the day to capture aesthetic shots behind the click of his camera shutter. It was a silent fifteen minute drive where you perched next to him, piano keys from a song you knew to be Clair de Lune the only thing that settled comfortably in the air around you both, though you knew your boss was never one to listen to this type of music lest he was subjected to it by hearing you play from across the hall.

Your fingers itched for your stand-up instrument, but you clamped them down on a tightened grip on the bag you hugged to your chest. Noticing one of his hands resting unoccupied beneath the steering wheel left deep crescent moons from your short nails on the black straps.

Wind picked loose flyaways up where you’d gathered your hair into a ponytail upon opening the car door, and you could almost taste the saltiness of the water spraying upwards where it crashed against rocks near a harbour to the far end of the beach. Overwhelmingly bright sunshine had you facing sideways to switch your view from the magnificent blend of gold and blue to Jungkook, crouching carefully on the sand with his camera angled towards the couple, directing them in different positions with compliments you could hear over the gentle lap of waves against the shoreline.

Asking Namjoon to hold Jiyeon by the waist, then brush his hands over her cheeks, pretend to dance on the shifting sands, then dip her but nearly topple over entirely did nothing to steal your attention away from him. It took Jiyeon tapping your shoulder, asking you to help hold her bouquet of assorted flowers, that made you realise you were staring at the way light made the outline of Jungkook’s figure glow for more than five minutes.

You quickly found a distraction in white petals of lilies curving beside periwinkles and daisies. Pink and white seemed to be the theme for their ceremony even if the pictures they took had the bride dressed in blue. The soft texture and sweet smell messed with your imagination, crafting a scene in your mind in which a boy you liked in the future would present you with a different bouquet, holding it out to the shy smile that would adorn your lips.

But the fake bunch of flowers soon changed into a tiny white vase of orchids identical to the ones growing on your desk.

You blinked in time with a familiar camera shutter going off much louder in your right ear, bringing you back to reality, but seeing Jungkook’s pointing it at you had you second-guessing.

“What are you doing?”

He grinned, cheeky bunny teeth and all, “What does it look like?”

“Wrong subject, Jeon.”

The white light of the small, digital screen added an extra star to his pupils, seasoned thumbs fiddling with the buttons to present you with the one snapshot he wasn’t paid to take, “Can’t help it. You look too pretty.”

You willed yourself not to bite your lip or break eye contact, or worse, admit that it was a nice photo despite being unplanned.

“Does that mean I have to pay you if I want it?”

It was his turn to hum thoughtfully, leaning down so your faces were nearly as close as they were that night. “Just this one? How about the others?”

“There are others?!“

“I’m a photographer. What did you expect?”

His fingers brushing lightly against the shell of your ear to tuck a stray lock away sent shocks through your skin, “You’re my favourite thing to photograph, snow. I thought you knew that by now.”

Any sort of response died in the back of your throat when he turned tail to jog back to Namjoon and Jiyeon, sand kicking up in the wake of where he had been but you couldn’t find it in you to be annoyed.

Not when he took your heart with him.

⊱✿⊰

Soft, golden lighting from the sconces in the corridor provided some clarity for your blurry vision to make out the outline of the keyhole, jamming the key in after three failed attempts. The sound of metal clicking was somehow louder that the muffled patter of rain against the building, loud enough to have the door behind you slamming open to see Jungkook, hoodie ridden up and revealing a lick of skin where his hand combed halfway through mussed dark locks of hair.

“Snow?”

Rubbing your eyes spread a dizzying array of colour behind closed lids. “Hey,” you brought your hand up for a wave, though a small yawn had the back of your wrist covering your mouth instead.

He made his way over in four strides, worry replacing the usual stars glinting in doe eyes, “You’re back late.”

A client who wanted his soundtrack to be finalised had called you in for a personalised visit in the early afternoon, unlike the usual customers who stated their comments in a bulleted point list in an email. Jungkook had understood that you were going to be gone for a couple of hours once you were done answering a few phone calls for him, half of them to arrange future shoots, the other half to confirm those you already jotted down in the calendar.

The laptop, keyboard and MIDI device tucked carefully away in your backpack weighed heavier courtesy of the rain you had been caught in on the way home. You were too tired to be irritated at the memory of said client who had fiddled around with nearly every button, more out of insatiable curiosity than the desire to find the right sound for his comic strip. You were exhausted at yourself too, for giving into replaying the main melody of the song on the keyboard each time he discovered a new sound, just to endure him saying nope, not it, next two bars into the score.

His resulting indecision had layers of additional sound you hadn’t planned to add into the music at random, though appropriate, points in time. The multicoloured rectangles on your editing software blurred together to give you a headache that didn’t leave, instead manifested further in a dull ache in your fingers from over-exertion and the chill of the storm battering against your glass windows.

A lock of your hair, slicked down by droplets of rain, was plucked off your shoulder, gripped by the pad of his thumb and index, “Have you had dinner?”

You were, honestly, too worried about the client’s greasy fingers pressing down on your precious equipment too hard to remember to eat, so you shook your head. Jungkook sighed in tandem with guiding you through the door, hand not leaving your shoulders until you passed the threshold of your bathroom and he aided you in slipping your bag off.

“Go take a shower,” it was a gentle request from concern you could now hear in his voice, “I’ll see if I can find something to eat.”

Twenty minutes later, when you had scrubbed out the rainwater from your hair and soreness from your muscles, you stepped out into your hallway, lavender and vanilla scent of your soaps overwhelmed by that of something delicious wafting from the other end.

You found Jungkook walking to the dining table, a bowl of curry from a day ago when you cooked it for dinner and another of rice placed gently beside a pair of chopsticks and a spoon. He turned to grab something else but paused in looking at your pyjama-clad self, your grey shirt advertising a black cat sticking out of a small pocket and white shorts peeking out beneath.

“I hope you don’t mind, I, uh…” a quick gesture to the food, “I heated the curry from yesterday, but if you want something else, I can order in–“

“It’s great, Jungkook,” you slid into the chair, offering him a small smile, just the tiniest quirk of your lips upward, “thank you.”

He joined you after a quick trip to your kitchen island, returning with a mug of hot chocolate brewed by hand and not the coffee machine you used for making his drinks. At this hour, food didn’t re-energise you, just warmed you up on the inside to lull you to sleep later. Yet the tiredness clinging to your half-open eyelids didn’t help in pretending that he hadn’t taken his gaze off of you.

Maybe breaking the silence would help in distracting you from that little detail. “Did you eat?”

“You came back late and you’re still worrying about me? I’m touched, snow,” he chuckled, tugging on your shower-fresh hair. “How was your meeting?”

Your shoulders slumped, recalling how you needed to clean each crevice of your equipment still sitting in your bag. “He was being… difficult. Not because he’s a perfectionist; he kept changing the sound to what he thought was nice,” you sighed. “It’s completely different from the original now, and he wants it by tomorrow night.”

“I mean,” fingers gently rubbed your eyes that had you seeing stars, “I know I shouldn’t complain because it’s work, but-”

An equally gentle tug on your wrists had you seeing those same celestial bodies in his irises, paired with an equally brilliant smile though it was meant to comfort you more than stun you into silence.

“That’s not true. You’re allowed to complain. You were there to see me ranting sometimes too, remember?”

“I guess,” you couldn’t help the pout that pulled at your bottom lip, “but it feels… wrong. I love music. I’m supposed to love my work, too.”

“I’m sure you still do,” one of his hands left yours to cup your cheek, running his thumb over the pink blush that began to spread under his touch. “It’s okay to feel stressed at times, especially when you deal with difficult people. Sure, they make your job harder, but that doesn’t mean you love it any less. Just don’t keep it to yourself.”

The downpour had quietened down to a drizzle, soothing ambient music in comfortable silence that had settled around you both that had your tired stature leaning into his warm touch, absently wondering when it had begun to feel like home.

“You shouldn’t say stuff like that…” your own voice was soft, mind hazy, “makes it hard to find you annoying.”

Jungkook laughing merely added to the ongoing music, “You think I’m annoying, snow?”

“Not…” your eyes drifted close for longer than a second, “…not right now.”

Feeling yourself being lifted off the chair and braced against the broad planes of his chest, his arms supporting you so you didn’t fall, garnered zero protest from you as you succumbed to the sleep taking over your consciousness, not before the warmth of a blanket tucked to your chin registered in your brain.

A dip in the mattress beside you preceded his hand caressing your face again, “What do you think of me then?”

Right in that moment, the answer was simple, feelings you’d thought about all day escaping your lips in a sincere whisper meant for him, and him alone.

“You drive me crazy, Jeon.”

⊱✿⊰

Piano keys in C major streaming through the car speakers had you perking your head up where you were flipping through the schedule for that day, soft pattering of rain in the background of the track causing memories to resurface.

Jungkook’s smirk was directed at you, despite his eyes fixated on the view beyond the windshield, “Recognise this?”

It was a playlist of lofi songs you had mixed together from your high school days, per your friends’ request to make one for them to study or chill to. The earliest ones had been when you were experimenting with new equipment you were now familiar with, should muscle memory prove anything; the ones in the middle were created with inspiration from your surroundings, proven by titles such as Autumn Leaves, Train by the river and Winter Nights; those near the end lasting three minutes or longer after more thorough training from two years in college.

Uploading it to your personal Spotify account granted your friends easy access, though you didn’t know that those who followed were still listening to it in the years that had passed since you’d gone back to it, and certainly hadn’t expected Jungkook of all people to find it. Yet the melody was unmistakable and filling the chilled air around you as you continued to stare at him, unsure of what to think.

A clack of his phone resounded next to the gear shift, screen showing the first of one hundred and fifty songs out in green font while the rest were white and waiting for their turn, “I wish you told me about it sooner. It’s my favourite thing to listen to while I work.”

You fiddled with your fingers, “I forgot I had it.”

Juggling doing covers of songs with friends for their YouTube page as a pianist or drummer, preparing for finals, and creating original compositions for an incredibly talented and hard-to-please lecturer, you’d barely had time to get back to producing your own beats. Back then, you had been more worried about getting sufficient hours of sleep.

“Like I said, snow, you’re talented,” he reached over, patting the top of your head without the usual roughness. “Seriously, how’d I get so lucky…”

You pondered on what he meant by that for the rest of the trip, settling on him appreciating you as his assistant and his friend despite the corner of your heart that stood up to protest otherwise.

The adorable glass bell in the shape of a fish chimed to announce your arrival at Manggae Bakery but Jimin was already at the door to pull it open for you, excited at the sight of the camera slung around his friend’s neck.

“JK!” Said camera thankfully wasn’t squished between their chests in the hug they exchanged. Crinkled eyes turned to you over Jungkook’s shoulder, widening at your small wave. “Hi, _____!”

Jimin all but dragged the two of you over to a table in the middle of the shop, treats on display. Bright colours of the rice flour cakes resting on their stands, particularly the rosettes, were the first to overwhelm you then draw you in by eliciting hunger in your stomach currently filled with the sandwich you had for breakfast. A reminder in the form of a lilac sticky note pasted itself in the forefront of your memory to ask him for one before you left, while a real sticky note in the pages of his schedule told you that the gala was just two days away.

“You can start with these,” Jimin swept his hand in a wide semicircle towards the treats. “I was thinking you could take a pic of all of them first, maybe from different angles. There’s a wall there too–“ he pointed to his left where the tables for customers to sit had been removed, leaving space before a white brick structure with a brown window and tendrils of curving ivy from the top, “–if you want to use for individual shots.”

“Got it, hyung,” he was already fiddling with the plastic buttons beside the screen, the familiar mechanical sound of the lens zooming in reaching your ears.

A couple of red roses adorning the top of a white cake behind the glass counter had caught your eyes, till you saw the gradual approach of bakery owner through its reflection, the same grin you dared to believe was permanently etched on his lips fully directed at you.

“I’m glad you’re here, _____,” over the shutter clicking away, you heard a rustle of paper within Jimin’s pocket that he soon produced to you, save the flourish from earlier. “Do you know the company Namjoon and Yoongi-hyung work at?”

You nodded; it was hard to miss the skyscraper high glass and steel building whenever you drove to town for a shoot.

“They have a job opening for a music producer,” his index tapped the large black words printed on the top of the page. “Details are all here. You can try applying if you want. I’m not sure if you get to- wait, Yoongi-hyung said you will get to collaborate with them if you get it. Pretty cool, right?”

Silence overtook the bakery to allow you time to process this new information as well as allowed the words on the page to look like they would jump off and swallow you whole. You were blind to everything else except the feeling of Jungkook’s gaze searing a hole through your cheek, neurons in your brain screeching to a halt in their tracks the longer you stood there, numb.

You barely registered Jimin snapping his fingers alongside an excited comment of retrieving more of his creations from the back room, your eyes accidentally flickering down to the business email in (thankfully) smaller font at the bottom left of the page even though it froze your vital organ up all the same. A soft call of your name, quiet footsteps, and warm fingers softly touching the underside of your chin to lift your face up was what it took to break you out of your trance.

“Snow,” Jungkook’s voice was as gentle as the twinkle in his chocolate irises, “are you okay?”

“Hm? Oh…” you blinked, “yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

He hummed. “Can you help me move that table? I need to start on those individual shots now.”

“Sure, of course.”

You placed the paper deep into the pocket of your jacket, thoughts swept by an imaginary broom to clear them to the back of your mind for future contemplation, or better yet, to be forgotten.

⊱✿⊰

The fluttering of paper caught your attention when you shoved your jacket aside. Just looking at those words on the shelf of your closet made a boulder press itself against your ribcage, threatening to crush the air out of your lungs until you hid the gift from Jimin away from your sight in a drawer. Two days had passed since you’d visited the bakery, however, another planned event scheduled precisely half an hour from the present time preoccupied your concerns more than the job opportunity.

A final check in the mirror atop your dressing table confirmed that you had put on the most expensive thing you owned, the blue shimmering beneath your warm bedroom lights. Thin, silver drop earrings sparkled in your ears, another check of your hair assured you that no flyaways were sticking at odd angles outside the intricate bun you wove your locks into, and the snow white asymmetrical peacoat made sure your boss wouldn’t have the chance to even peek at the dress before you got there.

The pound of your heart had you tripping into the short pair of white heels you pulled on for the night. If your feet were going to behave this way, you honestly couldn’t imagine spending three hours or more in those shoes on sleek, polished marble floor, but it was too late to consider changing into another pair upon hearing the door opposite your own click open.

Jungkook, somehow, appeared more handsome now in the black suit he’d chosen than he did in the changing room, or perhaps it was his effect on you that had changed from annoyance to something else entirely. It was the cliche feeling of time standing still between the two of you where you openly stared at each other, your eyes tracing the ethereal glow of his figure to the contours of his face lit by a combination of soft lighting in the hallway and the evening sun.

His fingers slid in the gaps of your left hand as if they were meant to fit perfectly, raising it up to his petal lips to sponged the back of it, “You look beautiful, snow.”

You couldn’t fight the upturn of your mouth, “I’d tell you that you look handsome, but I already did, so…”

“You said I didn’t look half bad.”

“And you don’t,” his playful scoff was in time with you looping an arm around the crook of his elbow, leading the way for him to his car.

A coat collection area had you pausing to remove yours, finally revealing the blue dress as you turned to face where Jungkook was waiting for you in front of the grand double doors. The gala was one of those rare occasions where he didn’t need to work – it was merely an extravagant party he was invited to, a night of fun and celebration of someone’s anniversary whom you knew to be the parents of his friend, Seokjin. Although, you doubted his friend would have the same reaction as him at the moment, the starstruck look he had on in the corridor returning to his features.

You tried to play it off with your own quip, “Alright, I admit it, you look dashing. Happy?”

Tingles spread where he slid his arm across your waist, never once taking his eyes off of you, “I’m happier that you’re here with me, gorgeous.”

A teasing smack to his chest didn’t stop his next words, or the heat rising to paint pink clouds onto the apples of your cheeks, “I mean it, snow. You’re absolutely stunning.”

Tables of fine dining lined the sides of the room boasting a chocolate fountain and fancy cocktails and other finger foods you weren’t able to name. Sparkles reflecting off an even bigger chandelier combined with other priceless gems strung on necks or circulating fingers covered by satin gloves were blinding to the eyes. Your brain reeled in thinking that the price of all the designer dresses could pay your tuition statements at least twenty times over, even as you tried to keep your eyes from widening to rival the moon each time you passed a guest with a spiderweb of jewels attached to her neck.

The grip you had on his arm was the sole thing anchoring you to reality. It felt like this place was a whole other realm of its own purely because of the grandiose facade it had, and maybe your vision was starting to get hazy from the splendour as you spotted a whole ice sculpture near the middle of the ballroom. Distracted by the decor, you startled at the call of Jungkook’s name, amusement lining his smile dimpling into his cheeks.

“Jin-hyung!” He exchanged a quick hug with Seokjin who beamed at you in acknowledgement of your presence, already tons better than the other guests who knew were silently judging you over the edges of their champagne flutes.

“JK, _____, glad you could make it. So,” a wide sweeping gesture to the rest of the room you were still trying to get used to, “what do you think? Fancy, no?”

“Very,” you nodded, “your parents really went all out.”

“Well, my dad wanted to make it special,” he turned in the direction of an older couple who, even from that distance, you could tell were looking at each other with unadulterated love. “There’s also going to be a dance later. Not just for them; anyone can join in.”

“Are you dancing?”

“Me? No,” Seokjin chuckled a little at Jungkook’s question, proceeding to eye you and him with a mischievous glint, “but I don’t see why you shouldn’t.”

“Oh, no,” you were firm down to the shake of your head, “I don’t dance.”

Music that suddenly began to stream from the small band you just realised had gathered on stage caused the surprised ah that left Seokjin’s mouth, glancing back at his parents who were making their way to the dance floor, among other people who were intrigued by the music.

“Well, I better go help my brother take some nice pictures of them,” the elder winked at your boss, straightening his blazer. “They won’t turn out as well as yours, but I’ll try. Enjoy the party!”

You were in the middle of wondering how a pair on the dance floor managed to pull off a flawless spin and dip when a hand came into your line of sight. Jungkook’s smoulder was purposeful this time, a butterfly fluttering around your stomach prior to his next request.

“Shall we?”

“Didn’t you hear me earlier?”

“Just one,” his arm and gaze were unwavering, “I promise I won’t step on your feet.”

Your mouth dropped open a little, “Does that mean you were planning to?“

“No. I plan to sweep you off your feet instead. Now,” he peered just that little bit closer, “may I have this dance, snow?”

It was the chance to hold his hand again, you tried to convince yourself, that you found yourself being led to and then around the marble floor. He was gentle in the way he held your hand and waist, guiding you into a twirls, some with the full extension of his arm before he was pulling you back in. You should have known the stars on the horizon making an appearance in his doe eyes would be the only thing that was able to outshine the costume jewelry in the room – you weren’t physically capable of looking anywhere else.

Neither was he, for that matter, both of you openly, willingly, gazing at each other for an indefinite amount of time.

“You’re not half bad at dancing,” Jungkook teased with a pinch to your hip, eliciting a bout of giggles from you rather than the usual irritated frown.

“I said I don’t dance, never said I couldn’t.”

“Good,” he winked, “because we’re gonna do this at our wedding.”

You would have landed another smack on him if your hands weren’t intwined, “Don’t joke about stuff like that.”

A quick twirl, then a tug of his fingers to draw you closer till the distance between your chests was thin enough to fit a piece of paper, “I’m serious, snow.”

“Is that so?”

“As serious as me saying you should send in an application for a producer.”

The room was the one spinning now as you broke eye contact, “Oh.”

He halted in his administrations, jabbing a thumb over to the outdoor balcony. “Do you want to talk outside?”

Leaving the ballroom brought back some semblance of normalcy. Jungkook guided you with a hand pressed to your back to a marble bench wrapped in fairy lights, reminiscent of your own at home, though more romantic since you weren’t alone. He made sure you were looking at him, serious in his tone but gentle in his gaze.

“You know something?” His hands were placed on his lap, inches away where yours lay on the seat. “I always meant it when I said you were talented in music. You’re passionate about it too, more than the job I offered you.”

“I’m a photographer because I love the art of taking pictures, but you,” only then did he intwine your hands, “you love music. And I don’t think what you’re doing now is as fulfilling as it can be. You definitely weren’t planning on being my assistant forever, and quite frankly, I don’t want you to.”

“Then…” you bit your lip, “why did you hire me in the first place?”

His smile had never been more beautiful under the light of the moon, “Because I’m in love with you, snow. I always have been. I’m surprised you haven’t caught on by now, but I guess it’s my fault for taking so long to admit it,” he sighed, genuinely apologetic. “That, and using the whole assistant job thing as an excuse to spend time with you.”

Your heart was about to burst, fingers tightening in his grip to remind you that he was real, and so was all of this.

“Promise me, when we go back home, you’ll write in to them?”

A pinky was held up to you with his free hand, and you held up your own, though you didn’t link it through his yet.

“As long as you promise me something in return.”

“Sure.”

“If I get the job–“

“When you get the job.”

You laughed, “When I get it, will you take me on a date?”

“Of course,” Jungkook wrapped his finger with yours, “but honestly, I already consider all the time we spent together as unofficial dates.”

“That’s just it,” your shoulders slumped, leaning your head on his arm, “I’m not sure if we’ll spend so much time together if I become a producer.”

Lips pressing to the crown of your head had you looking up at him again, “We can still, snow. When we both work from home, or when you have free time, you can come with me to shoots. It’ll be like nothing has changed.”

“I’ll cook for you. You won’t eat anything otherwise.”

“Good,” he leaned his forehead against yours, noses brushing, “I love your food. It’s way better than the steak portions they’re giving out in there.”

Another peal of laughter bubbled past your lips, “Jungkook.”

“Seriously, have you seen them?”

⊱✿⊰

You had expected Jungkook to pull you in for a passionate kiss once you stepped through the doorway of your home, but you hadn’t expected to see an album that you recognised on the dining table, gleaming within its plastic cover and waiting to be unwrapped.

“How was your day?” He spoke between sponging more sweet affections down your jawline, “Did you get the new flowers I sent you? I specifically asked the delivery guy to bring it up to your studio–“

Your lips on his cut him off for you to giggle, “Yes I did, Kookie. They’re lovely, now–“ an index finger was shoved in the direction of the table, “–what is that?”

Laughter filled the air around you, leading you by your entwined hands over to it, “Oh, I think you know.”

The protective plastic covering was ripped away by muscular arms in three seconds, tossed aside on the wooden surface before he was unveiling the CD you knew Namjoon poured his heart into, removing the little book inside with eager fingers turning to a specific page.

“How can you expect me not to buy an album that my girlfriend-“ a step to close the distance and peck your forehead, “-has producing credits on?”

“Aw, I’m sure Namjoon would appreciate you supporting him.”

“Snow–”

You slung your arms around him in half the time it took to tear the album open, “Just kidding, babe. Thank you.”

In the months that had gone by since you were hired by the panel of interviewers for the job, you had gone beyond making music for comic strips or small production videos (though Jungkook would disagree in the making of the small collage for your hundred-day anniversary), and you had never been happier. There was a plus side for the both of you; the money he had previously been wiring to your account was now used to treating you both to dates, or cooking him homemade meals that he insisted were better than the food at the gala that had brought you together officially.

“Kookie,” you rested your chin on his chest to stare up into his chocolate doe eyes, “do you like his music?”

“Of course I do, but,” he kissed the pout of your bottom lip, “I love you more.”

Your smile shone as bright as the stars glittering in his eyes, “I love you too, you dork.”

[littlefreya]

Poison Honey

Summary: Everyone around you is too busy getting drunk and making out, while you are just dying for this dreadful Christmas party to be over. But just as you plan to leave, you catch the eye of a very hungry August Walker.

Pairing: August Walker x Reader (2nd pov)

Word count: 1K

Warnings: Passion, romance, sexual innuendo, a “thrill of the chase” if this may trigger anyone and mild alcohol use.  

A/N: Okay this Christmas drabble came to me in a dream a month ago, and I had to write it down but waited for today to post it. Many thanks to the love of my life @agniavateira​ who did my beta so quickly! 

Title: Poison Honey

Festive fairy tea lights were strung across the concrete office walls, resembling little flakes of gold over gloom and sparks floating from a pyre. Their aura lit fervent bodies clung together, shining over the grinding and touching figures as they danced to the upbeat Christmas carols that played in a volume so high you could hardly hear yourself think.

It was nothing more but a smouldering den of sin, an orgy of delights. 

Standing at a distant corner with a glass of spicy-sweet sangria pressed to your lips, you watched the massive hall, unable to take part in the sweaty horde that pranced around the golden calf.

You weren’t happy this time of the year, but then again, you never were satisfied. It’s not that life was mundane; it’s just that it existed with no meaning, and these sort of cheap thrills left you shaken. 

Because even though you wanted to take a chance and be that bad girl, deep inside, you knew you could never be one of them. 

A sigh left your lips. Waiting for the appropriate time to depart without having people talk about your introversion later, you downed your drink while deflecting the numerous attempts of Debbie from accounting to drag you into the fuss. 

It was then that you realised, you were not the only one standing alienated from the crowd. 

Funny, you’ve always assumed that a man like Agent Walker would be the first to go balls-deep in at least two women tonight. But he seemed far more enthralled in spying on everyone else and like he was having a good time watching everyone else fuck up.

His eyes burnt with blue flames that laved over many skulls before it slowly licked upon your sight. And as if you could feel both fire and ice ascending in your tendons, a shiver crawled down your back. Languidly, he traced your form. Stroking his moustache briefly, Agent Walker raised the glass of bourbon perched in his hand and gave a small tilt of recognition as if you understood one another though you’ve never spoken before. 

The last drop of sangria couldn’t quench the sudden dryness that formed in your throat. As your anxiety spiked, you did what you knew best and twirled your feet, pretending you had to go somewhere. 

Anywhere.

What were you so afraid of? Living? 

Squeezing the purse in your palm, you hurried to find the jacket left abandoned on your desk. Drunk and sultry, your co-workers swarmed every corner like zombies in a horror flick, and the sounds of passionate lovemaking reverberated through the corridors. Somewhere, in one of the glass-enclosed offices, two colleagues were indulging in a carnal dance.

Agent Walker was no longer in sight, still it resonated in your mind that he was stalking through every passage. Heat bubbled in your belly and between your reaching thighs, the tepid dew began to gather. Maybe you wanted to be chased... And perhaps you desired August Walker to catch you.  

Trying to brush these pesky thoughts away, you finally grabbed your coat and headed towards the exit. The calming warmth one feels when arriving at a shelter began to sink down your sternum. A few steps more, and you were to be safe.

But hope blew off like a candle in a ghastly wind. 

August’s shoulders were broad enough to block any way out as he stood at the pathway. His excessively muscular arms were crossed together, biceps so large they were bigger than your head. His steel-blue shirt looked as if it was about to pop and expose what you could only imagine as the epitome of virility.

The shuddering gasp that escaped you didn’t go unnoticed; he smirked with triumph before his eyes slowly levitated above your head and focused on the ceiling.

“Lucky me,” he chimed, his voice a low and melodic growl that felt like a claw cinched around your heart. 

Skin riddled with goosebumps you followed his gaze, the chill increasing as your mind already processed what you feared to grasp.

The mistletoe was hanging right over your head. 

August’s beguiling smile cut into his left cheek, darkness poisoning his lips. He made a large step forward, easily closing the remaining distance. Yes, you knew he was handsome, but up close, his beauty was ethereal: eyes like precious gems and a strong chin that made every other man look stale. His pouty lips parted as he looked down at you. A small flinch marred your face as he reached a hand to the small of your back.

“Will I get a kiss? Or will you doom me with bad luck?”

Thunderstorms struck the strings of your heart, and in your ears, you felt the throb. If August hadn’t held you in his arms, you would be on the floor by now as your legs wouldn’t cease their jittering.

Fear, desire, and the menacing anxiety of doing something completely outrageous toyed you like a marionette. Before you even realised it your mouth fell open and August leaned in, bourbon and candy on his breath. His whiskers and plump lips touched you first, brushing over so gently it was barely a kiss. Innocently he caressed your mouth before his tongue slithered into your hot cavern and tasted you with a devouring yearning. 

He crushed you; his hard pecs collided with your breasts, turning muscle and bones into a liquid thing for him to manipulate. As he pillaged your mouth, a guttural groan made its way down your entire body and ended fluttering at your womb. 

It felt empyreal, you wanted more. Melting into his steady form, you began to picture his warm body naked above yours, imagining what’s beneath his crisped shirt and ironed tie. You wondered of the size of his manhood and how these soft, lips would taste the plains of your body when he slowly broke the kiss, ending it with a tender groan that vibrated at your mouth.

Breathless, you stared at him, utterly distraught and hastily turning upset. Shame burnt white-hot, tingling across every living cell in your body. Not saying a word you pushed right past him and hurried toward the elevator. 

“Guess I’ll see you around...?” He asked behind you, with a definite victory in his voice.

Ignoring his remark you quickly disappeared to the elevator, thankful as the silver doors closed in your face and rescued you at the last moment. Your heart still rumbled in your chest as if begging to rip itself out and in your mouth lingered a honey-like flavour. 

Clueless fingers outlined the electric tingle over your lips; it was only a kiss, yet everything felt different after tonight. 

[citydreamgrls]

a christmas treat

george weasley x fem!reader

words: 5,243

a/n: a very seasonal one for you,, hope you enjoy !! :)

warnings: swearing , smut , 18+ 

It had been a drunken mistake. A situation she should never have been in at all. But one final party before the summer break had caused that fateful moment she wished had never occurred. Y/n had been in the library all evening, in a lazy attempt to avoid the Gryffindor party altogether, but decided she would need to return to her dorm at some point.

She’d hoped that maybe they would have calmed a bit now that it was later in the night, but to her dismay the excited shouts sounded the second she reached the common room’s door. With one breath she slipped inside, wanting to pass by the group huddled by the fire unnoticed.

“Hey y/n?” A voice called out.. Her friend Angelina leant over the back of the sofa with a beer in hand and a smile on her face. “You joining us this time?”

“I’m pretty tired, but thanks.”

“Oh come on, you said that last time. It’s the end of term, just have one drink with us?” She pouted, but the girl held her ground and shook her head.

“I have to be up early tomorrow.”

“So do the rest of us!” Lee groaned, “Just stay for an hour then you can escape us again.” He joked. She took the bait, leaving her books on the table and slipping next to Angelina.

She noticed the twins, unfazed by their presence at any sort of party. But she’d never really paid much attention to them, at most times she could barely tell them apart. But with a few drinks in her system, and the need to sleep fading with each one, she noticed one of them in particular. George.

She studied his face subtly as it glowed beside the fire’s light. His was skinnier than Fred’s, with a slightly different jaw shape. His voice was deeper than his brother’s, and she noticed it more as he laughed with disregard for how loud it was and was always the one to start a joke. Then the mole, on the right side of his neck. That was the last thing she noticed before he caught her staring.

But he just did what he always would when someone looked too long, and winked carelessly. Then it was an internal battle not to blush like a child as she quickly looked anywhere but him.

He’d introduced himself not much later while she was pouring herself one last drink before heading up to bed. She’d almost choked at the sound of his voice, surprised that he was taking time to speak to her when he had a whole room of people at his command.

She was drunk, so was he. And she liked the way he smirked and leant down to her from his towering stance. Y/n let him take her ‘somewhere more private’ and fuck her.

That was it. But she reminded herself that he was drunk, so was she.

Nothing more.

So the next day she woke up earlier than the other’s and made her way down to the train alone, in case everyone knew what she’d let that tall redhead do to her the night before. But when they eventually joined her in the carriage, the only questions were about her rushing off so early.

Maybe he was embarrassed, she wondered as the castle went out of view and the lake came in. All that ran through her mind was him, everything she had done was fresh in her memories. So much so that she could barely remember herself being there, if it wasn’t for the hidden bruise he’d left on her shoulder she may have believed it was a dream.

He had felt like a dream.

But he was just drunk, maybe so much so that he had forgotten it all.

It seemed so when they returned after the summer, and he acted as though he’d never even met her that night. So her and the twins remained strangers.

At least until the Christmas break came around.

-

“I can’t believe they’re making you stay here,” Angelina huffed, often being the first to critique y/n’s muggle parents and their choices.

“It’s just a precaution, I’m fine with them. But when the rest of the family come round, all I want to do is hex them to oblivion.” She laughed.

“It’s wrong though, they’re scared of a witch who isn’t even permitted to do magic outside of the school!”

“It’s only a few weeks, plus I can start studying.”

“Oh good, get all the studying out of the way so we can actually have fun when I get back.” She grinned, snapping her case closed and looking round the room.

“Go, or you’ll miss the carriages.” The girl laughed and pushed her out the door.

“Please don’t spend the whole break alone? And write to me!” She called before rushing out of the common room.

Later that evening she finally did what Angelina had asked of her, both requests. But not quite by choice. She was sitting in the great hall having dinner, the handful of students that remained making it a very peaceful meal. Her hand alternated between eating, flicking the page of her book and writing to Angelina to tell her how boring it was going to be.

She wouldn’t have noticed the two boys in front of her if one of them hadn’t coughed to get her attention. Her eyes looked up, wide and caught off guard as they smiled back with the same face.

“Hello y/n” They said in unison, making it harder yet again to tell them apart.

“You've been left here too?” One of them spoke.

“I don’t mind it,” she said quietly, turning her head back to the book.

Her heart was racing, of course George would tell his brother about the party, she was dumb to think otherwise. But neither of them were letting on about it. Still, they knew her name. He must remember.

“I’m Fred,”

“And I’m George, the better looking one.” He winked, and she froze.

“You okay?” Fred asked, frowning at how she had stopped at the sight of George.

The girl just nodded, resuming her letter to Angelina.

Now it was confusing, she couldn’t tell whether they were pretending to be strangers. Or they actually believed they were. The twins stayed in front of y/n as she carried on her multiple tasks, they didn’t dare interrupt her until she finished her letter and sealed it in the envelope.

“You know we’re the only ones from our year staying here?” Fred told her.

“Oh right, how come you two are here?” She asked them.

“We were hungry,” George said, waving his fork in front of her.

“She means hogwarts you dimwit!” Fred slapped his brother on the head, making y/n giggle sweetly. She had always thought they were annoying, with their pranks and lack of care for anything. But seeing them tease one another, she realised they were in fact quite funny to be around.

“Mother said she’d had enough of cooking for us all, so we’re stuck here this christmas.” Fred explained, not seeming too bothered by his family’s neglect.

“Ron’s here too, and Ginny but I haven’t actually seen her yet.” George frowned, looking round to see if he could spot his little sister.

“Maybe she’s been eaten by that troll hagrid’s hiding in the woods,” Fred said calmly.

“That would be our luck, all mum told us to do was look after Ginny this year.” George groaned, rolling his eyes.

“Back up, a troll?” The girl asked, but both twins just nodded, as if this was known information. “Never mind.”

-

From then on they sat with her at every meal, always telling her about tricks they would play on the few remaining teachers at the castle. It was four days into the holidays when Fred and George asked her to hang out, a difference to the studying she’d been doing previously.

“We’re heading down to Hogsmeade later, you wanna come with us?”

“You know, seeing as there isn’t really anyone else for you to spend time with,” George had added. The girl still hadn’t figured out whether he remembered the summer party seeing as the only time she saw them was when they were together, but regardless she decided to take Angelina's advice and make some friends.

“Yeah sure,” She closed her book and finished her toast before standing up, “I’ll meet you guys in the common room then?”

-

It was snowing heavily and y/n was glad she’d put on an extra layer to walk to Hogsmeade, especially when the twins forced her to defend herself from an impromptu snowball fight. Even when she’d hit them both in the face they didn’t give up.

Being away from the castle felt much more fun, even more so with Fred and George taking turns to tease her. Which, surprisingly, she didn’t mind too much. It was never malicious with them, and if they gave it out it was only the rules that they took it too.

They spent the whole afternoon scouring the shops and drinking butterbeer until y/n’s legs felt like jelly and Fred had to give her a piggyback ride up the hill again. Not that he was very trustworthy after him and George raced to see who could drink a pint quicker, five rounds of it.

“Don’t fall asleep y/n,” George had warned as the girl’s head bounced lightly against his brother’s back. “Or Fred will dump you in the shrieking shack!” The girl pretended to be scared, but tried to reach out to push the boy away. Instead she fell off the side of her ride and brought him down with her.

All three of them burst into fits of laughter and spent the next 40 minutes drunkenly trying to complete the 15 minute walk back up to hogwarts. When they finally made it back to the common room, after dodging teachers in the hallway, they fell onto the sofa in front of the fire.

“Fuck, marry, kill…” George started, making y/n and Fred groan in fear of his next few words. “Snape, Lupin, Dumbledore.”

“I think this one might be for you y/n,” Fred laughed.

“Okay,” The girl thought for a second, “right, I would fuck Snape, Marry Lupin… I can’t kill dumbledore though. I’d be evil!”

“You’d FUCK SNAPE?” They cried out in unison, disgusted by her final decision.

“Yeah, I think he’d be a good fuck.” They nearly screamed at what she said. “What…” she laughed, “all that rage has to go somewhere,”

“Stop stop!” George begged, unable to listen any longer. But the girl liked how it bothered him.

“Anyway, I like a deep voice.” She, not really, joked.

Fred started up the hysterics, suddenly unable to stop picturing how Snape would look naked. Something he was not proud of.

“Oh don’t I know it,” George had said.

She hadn’t registered what he’d said, too busy laughing with them both still tipsy from their day in the village. But later on when she sobered up, y/n thought whether George was trying to hint that he did in fact remember everything.

Ron and Harry came down from their dorm room while the older three were still in fits.

“God what happened to you lot,” The twins’ younger brother had called out over the noise, “We can hear you from upstairs.”

“You’ll never guess what y/n said about Snape!” Fred had wheezed out, but was quickly muffled by the other two who decided that both Harry and Ron were too young to know about their game.

“What? I wanna know,” Ron had whined.

“Don’t be so nosy Ron.” George had teased.

“Fred was gonna tell me.” He pointed out, but George kept a tight cover on his twin’s mouth.

“He most definitely will not.”

The two of them left with slumped heads, admitting defeat, and Fred was freed from his temporary prison. He slapped both of his friend’s heads.

“What was that for?” y/n complained.

“I couldn’t breath you idiots.”

They couldn’t help but start laughing again, something which would recur throughout the day until they eventually sobered up before dinner.

-

Y/n came to terms with the twins and their drinking habits, as it was really the only thing to do to pass the time with so little people around. But when Fred and George were around they always had fun.

The girl watched them whizz about the empty quidditch pitch on their brooms, tossing a ball between themselves. She slipped the flask from her coat and took a sly sip of firewhiskey to keep herself warm. Normally she wouldn’t drink at all, not having done so since the dreaded party where she and George had- you know. But she decided she wanted to do whatever she felt like, it was a rarity.

George flew over, hovering in front of her as she hid the whiskey back in pocket.

“Sure you don’t want a ride?” He raised his eyebrows, he’d been trying to convince her to get on since she’d taken a seat on the stands.

“Not a chance, Weasley, neither you nor Fred are sober enough. I’m precious cargo.” She smiled. The boy’s hair was blown away from his face, held back by the amount of times he’d run his hand through it. She watched his brown eyes sparkle in the winter sun, and was reminded of why he had ever caught her attention in the first place.

“You wanna talk about sobriety eh? Empty your pockets then y/n.” Her stomach filled with butterflies at the sound of his voice speaking her name, but she did as he asked.

“I’ll let you have some if you stop trying to get me on that deathtrap.” The girl sighed and he nodded, taking the flask when she offered it out.

“Nice doing business with you,” He winked and flew off.

-

The next week went by quickly, and y/n had pretty much forgotten about her worries with George. And now, sooner than any of them had realised, it was Christmas eve. Both twins had burst into the girl’s dorm to drag her out of bed, throwing her around the room until she threatened to vomit on both of them.

“Hurry and get dressed or we’ll miss breakfast.” They called, leaving her dizzy in the middle of the room.

Fred discussed their plans for the day while y/n drank endless cups of coffee, not having the stomach for any food. Not to mention, George had been staring at her for the past 10 minutes, making her too nervous to move much. She much preferred it when she had something stronger to drink.

“I heard from Harry that Ron fancies Hermione,” Fred spoke up, no longer interested in our day's activities. That was very him, he would make a decision then immediately change his mind.

“Well that’s obvious,” George scoffed, having yet another bowl of cereal. She wondered how he could burn off all that he ate. “He’s looks at her with stupid puppy eyes,”

“You have stupid puppy eyes,” The girl joked, earning a look from the twin.

“Oh really?” He laughed. “You practically pout whenever you want something from us?”

“At least it works for me,” I winked, making George choke a bit.

Fred laughed, rarely seeing his brother flustered. They’d discussed crushes before in the past, but y/n had never come up before. He watched the two of them tease one another over the table and thought that they suited each other in reality. Plus, he had never seen George pay as much attention to a girl as he had y/n, even ones that he’d admitted to liking.

-

That evening had proved Fred’s theory right as they once again sat in front of the fire, the three of them sharing a bottle of y/n’s muggle alcohol. It burnt like hell and tasted like shit, but they had never gotten drunk quicker so decided it was the logical choice.

George had made sure that y/n was warm enough, without expressing too much concern for her that she would notice. Fred had to hide his smug smile as he watched his brother start to flirt shamelessly with their newest friend.

“What do you mean Hogwarts is scary,” He had laughed, “We’re the only things to be feared.” Fred had added.

“And now you’re one of us!”

“As much as that is a very sweet sentiment,” The girl stroked their heads jokingly, like dogs. “But it’s when it’s quiet, like now. My dorm’s just me, and I had the silence. It feels like someone’s always watching.”

“Aww little y/n’s scared.” George had teased, reaching down to tickle the smaller girl. She kicked and wriggled but he was bigger and stronger and could hold her down.

Those hands, holding her arms in place. It almost threw her straight back into the memory of them in secret passageway, him gripping her as he kissed her neck. If it hadn’t been for the tickling, the boys probably would have noticed her shiver at the reminder. But it was lost in their laughter.

It wasn’t long before Fred decided he would give his, slightly older, brother a chance to talk to y/n alone. So he overemphasised his drunken state and wobbled up to bed, leaving the pair by the fire.

-

They sat in silence for a while, George letting the girl curl into his side as they passed the bottle between them. She watched his hands play with the sofa’s arm nervously and giggled slightly.

“What?” He asked, feeling the need to whisper amongst the silence.

“Nothing,” She dismissed.

“I’ve had fun this holiday,” y/n admitted.

“We have too,” George told her, smiling down sweetly. His top lip curled up ever so slightly, making her blush again like she had done the first time he’d noticed her. “It’s been better than being at home really.” He laughed.

“My family are pretty boring,”

“Oh I can tell,” y/n glared up at him. “I’m kidding darling don’t worry.” Her stomach did multiple flips, not only at the nickname, but at the way he took the arm that was around her shoulder and stroked her cheek. In fact, he didn’t stop. It just became normal after a few seconds, as if he’d always shown her this kind of affection.

“Why didn’t you go home this year?” He asked y/n.

“My parents are muggles, as you know,” she raised the bottle with a gentle laugh “they don’t quite get magic.”

“Oh right,” he was truly invested in her as she spoke, taking in every word with genuine interest.

“They were worried I would let slip to the rest of the family when they came to stay, and well, they haven’t really told anyone else about me.” y/n felt ashamed to be telling George about her family in such a negative way.

“That’s a shame,”

“I don’t mind, they’re just careful people.”

“Still, they should be proud. Not everyone can be a witch,” He laughed.

“I’ve had more fun here anyways, so I won’t complain.” She leant her head on him for a few minutes, watching the flame from the fire disappear over time.

“Can I ask you something?” George suddenly said, making her stiffen up. She just nodded.

“Do you remember, before the summer break, there was a party here?” It was the moment she had been dreading ever since the night itself.

“Uh, yes I do actually.” she gave in, seeing no point in lying to him.

“And you can remember us going off to-”

“Yes George,” she cut him off, embarrassed that she had never mentioned it to him.

“I never told anyone about it,” He told her, making the girl relax ever so slightly. “I didn’t want to just in case you were embarrassed.”

“Thanks, I wasn’t embarrassed as such. Just more scared, that you’d think it was a mistake.” Admittedly she had felt the same, but only because she presumed he would’ve never gone for her had he been sober.

“Why would you think that?” He asked.

“Come on George, we’re different.” The boy had always appreciated how she said his name, and even now it made him giddy with happiness. “You’re friends with every Gryffindor, and they all adore you. I would much rather have my head in a book all day every day.”

“Unless me and Fred are involved.” He wasn’t wrong.

“Yeah well that’s different,”

“Different how?”

“You two are fun,” she admitted.

“And everyone else isn’t?” He smirked.

“You know what I mean, it’s just different.”

“Because of me and Fred? Or… just me?”

She watched his face as he studied hers, taking a deep breath as she rolled her eyes.

“You’re only saying all this because you’re drunk,” y/n scoffed, getting up to leave but he took her hand and kept her sat down.

“Maybe, but that doesn't mean I haven’t been thinking about it.”

His eyes were deep and made the girl’s heart tense as he spoke genuinely. “I thought you hated me after that party, so I just never bothered you. Until Fred decided to befriend you, and then I got to know you and realised why I introduced myself that night.”

“Because you wanted to fuck me?” She watched his face get closer but remained unfazed, refusing to move away from him.

“Of course, but also because you’re beautiful and quiet. Not to mention I’d had a thing for you ever since first year, but you were always in the library and I never got that chance to know you well enough.” He explained softly, their faces now dangerously close.

George glanced down at her lips and y/n couldn’t help but blush.

“I should go to bed,” She whispered, not moving closer or further away.

“Yes you should.” He pulled back with a smirk, seeing her finally let out a much needed breath of air. “Don’t get too creeped out tonight,” He teased as she stood up and walked round the back of the sofa leaning down to kiss the top of his head.

“Come keep me company then you fool,”

With that y/n left, her footsteps going up to her dorm and into the room. George waited exactly a minute after the door shut, counting the seconds one by one. It felt like a lifetime until he reached 60, but then he stood up and smiled to himself. He made his way up the tower, one step at a time to try and make her wait a tiny bit longer. Ignoring the fact that he had been wanting to have his way with y/n ever since that night all those months ago. Having her around had been a joy, but it made his desire grow every time she smiled at him with those lips he couldn’t forget the feeling of.

The lips he noticed first when he opened up the door, not bothering to knock. She was sitting on her bed, just a nightdress on, waiting for him.

“God you’re gorgeous.” He had groaned, promptly closing the door behind him and taking off his shirt.

Y/n struggled not to drag him down as he stood over her body, his abs completely mesmerising her. She knew quidditch was good for something.

“You gonna stand there all night?” She teased.

“No, I’m gonna fuck you like I’ve been wanting to all month.” This time she couldn’t help but gasp at how his words made her feel, her thighs clenching together as a reflex.

George pushed them apart as he climbed on top of her, pressing a leg between her own two. Making the girl moan out at his mercy.

“You’re desperate aren’t you?” She nodded, giving him those perfect eyes he’d been teasing her about only that morning. He dragged his fingers over her face, lifting her chin up so he could run them down her neck. This simple action antagonised the girl, who struggled not to beg for him with each finger slowly gripping her tighter.

Soon he was squeezing, making her moan out effortlessly.

“Hmmm, I love those noises baby.” She could barely hold herself back from pushing herself against his thigh, that remained propped between her legs. It felt like heaven to be touched by him again, and she kept her head held back in ecstasy.

“Please George,” she whispered to him, although there was no real need for them to stay quiet. He slowly moved his mouth to her ear, kissing below it and making her jolt with pleasure.

“What is it darling?”

“Please touch me,”

He took the hand from her neck and pushed her down flat onto the mattress.

“Strip” he demanded, watching her closely discard her nightdress and throw it to the ground. George let her eye him up as he took off his trousers, finally revealing the extent of his bulge as it pressed tight against his boxers.

Y/n could feel it against her pussy as he moved back on top of her, her neck being sucked hard by the boy. He loved the way she reacted to every touch, every finger that ghosted her body, and every kiss placed upon her. It all garnered a gentle moan. George wanted to hear it more and more, he felt entranced by her noises and internally begged for it to never stop.

He pushed himself against her pussy, rubbing slowly with no rhythm to catch her off guard, which god it did. Y/n was all his in that moment, letting herself be whatever George needed as he teased her to the edge. Her breath held as the boy took two fingers and ran them from her neck, freeing her from that euphoric feeling just to replace it with yet another as he slipped them between her folds. Y/n threw her head back, unable to control herself as he played around with her, slipping one finger in and out.

His other hand propped his body up, his biceps big and tensed near her head. She reached up and gripped his arm, moaning out as he pushed in yet another finger inside her, knuckle deep.

“You’re perfect darling,” He told her, “I would have given anything to hear these noises weeks ago.” His voice was deeper than usual, almost a growl as he removed himself from her completely. She whined slightly, making him smirk with how powerless she was.

George reached down to pull out his cock, causing the girl to yet again almost choke. She was amazed at how thick it was. She could feel it perfectly in her memory, but it had been a while and she’d never really gotten a chance to see it in all its glory.

But now there it was, thick and big and waiting to be thrusted inside her. She locked eyes with the boy towering over her body as he teased her with his tip.

“Please George,” She begged, “Please.” Her grip was back on his arm, tightening as he pushed inside. He was drunk on power as she begged for him, begged for him to fuck her even better than he had done months ago.

“Relax baby,” He whispered, pushing it all the way in. The sound that y/n made was nothing short of a scream, finally feeling him all the way in. Her pussy was dripping wet, and gripping onto George’s cock like it was going to be taken away.

The boy pounded into her like he’d been wanting to, ruthlessly and all the while he kept a hand tight around her neck. He thought about how good she made him feel, how small she was compared to him. He loved being able to throw her around and use her as he pleased. But most of all, he loved that she enjoyed it too.

“G-george, George I’m gonna-” Her pussy tightened, making George falter slightly but he didn’t dare stop when she was this tight. Instead he thrusted faster, an animalistic pace, making her scream so much louder than he’d ever heard. Then he felt himself get closer, just from the way her body reacted and he chased that high within her.

“Cum inside me, please.” She begged breathlessly, struggling to keep her eyes open. But when George finally let loose in her pussy, she couldn’t help but widen her eyes in the pleasure of it.

The boy fell to her side, his head resting on the pillow beside her as he caught his breath back slowly. She watched him brush his hair from his face and sigh happily.

“What are you looking at?” George asked, wrapping an arm around her naked body and rubbing his hand against her side.

“I just think you look very cute,” She giggled, high from the feeling of him.

“I fucked you like that, and you call me cute?” He huffed, half joking.

“I can do what I like now, you like me.” She teased him.

“Come on, I’m gonna get enough teasing from Fred when we tell him. I don’t need it from you too.” He groaned.

-

The next morning, Christmas day, the pair were rudely awoken from their pleasant sleep by Fred bursting into the room.

“I knew it! I could’ve bet good money on you two!” He shouted, shaking his brother as if he hadn’t already heard him come in.

Y/n groaned and rolled under the covers.

“Come on lazy get up,” Fred pulled George out of bed and onto the floor, groaning at his naked brother.

“Good thing you got George before me,” Y/n called out from beneath the covers.

“Get dressed you idiots, there’s presents downstairs let's go!” Fred ran off again, leaving his brother to pull on some clothes. He leant down to pull the covers from y/n’s face.

She felt him place a kiss on her cheek and she giggled at the cold air.

“You getting up?” He asked, passing her a jumper to pull on. She nodded silently, rubbing her head. “Hungover?”

“A little,” She blushed at his messy hair.

“I’ll carry you then,”

The girl put on some pajama shorts and held her arms out for George to lift her off the ground. He groaned happily and took her down to the common room to find Harry and Ron already opening gifts sent from Mrs Weasley. Ginny came racing down not long after, begging Fred to give over her presents.

“These ones are for you y/n,” Harry said when she was plonked on the sofa, warmed by the fire’s heat.

“Thanks Harry,” She looked down at the tag on the packages.

Hope you’ve had a good holiday darling, see you in the summer!

Y/n had spent the best holiday anyone could ask for with her two best friends, and couldn’t imagine having to leave them when the summer came around. She frowned, but the boy with his arm still on her waist saw the note before she could unwrap anything.

“You’ll have to come home with us next summer, not a chance am I letting your parents steal you away.” He joked, but his offer was sincere. She never had to worry about George hiding her away like her parents had done.

[justplainwhump]

Blackmail

For @amonthofwhump 12 days of Whumpmas, here's day 6 - Blackmail. And a little sneak peek at future Dany, after she's free from Ridley. (Or, boss!Dany, as I like to call her).

References the ongoing (explicit) Christmas party arc [On Tumblr] [On Ao3]

As all Dany pieces, this is dedicated to @hackles-up

Thus, cw for referenced past noncon.

[Dany Masterpost]

-

I remember his eyes. Pale green irises, thick, dark eyelashes. Lindsey Manners' eyes are hauntingly beautiful.

In my memories, they're staring down on me, hungry and lustful.

Right now, they are wide with fear.

I enjoy this far more.

I push my chair back from the huge desk and give him a cool smile. I picked a corner office, on the former conference floor. Not the very top floor, where Ridley used to reside. High enough to make an impression, though. "Mrs..." He clears his throat. "Mrs Lordin, before you try and fire me, you must know that -"

I lift an eyebrow. I can guess what he's aiming for. The man is desperate. He's built his whole existence on my husband. This company. My company. He can't lose it.

"Yes?", I prompt. "What is there that I have to know?"

"You can't", he stammers. "You can't fire me. I have... I have videos. Files. Of that party. You wouldn't want those sent to your business partners."

I throw my head back and laugh, first at his bluntness, and then at the confusion spreading over his face at my reaction. "I wouldn't, that's right", I admit. "But..." With a shrug I reach to the picture frame on my desk. Ridley's and my wedding photo, and run my fingers over its rim. It's creepy, how thin I was. I've been free of him for just short of two months now, and already look a lot healthier. "You know, my husband won't exactly leave me for what happened. And whatever traction this would get, I still own a multi-million Dollar Corporation. You however..." I look him down. "You have nothing but your reputation. Maybe, maybe your fiance. Bianca, isn't it? I've had coffee with her. She's lovely."

Lindsey blanches.

"You've been with her for quite a while, haven't you? Starting dating a while before this... party?" I point at the picture of Ridley. "He likes to keep videos, too, you know. That particular one is a favorite of his. Had me watch them often enough. So I do happen to have my own copy of it. You are very well recognizable on it, Lindsey. Every last part of you. And I, your boss' wife, have very, very clearly been drugged, which you don't seem to mind. At all. So. What do you think, which one of us would suffer more from the repercussions of that publication?" With a last look at it, I put the picture frame back on the table, face down.

"I..." He stammers. "You..."

"Fucking whore?", I assist him. "Mh. Yeah. You sure liked to call me that."

"What... What do you want?" He almost chokes on his words.

"I don't want to fire you. That 14 mil project my husband so kindly rewarded you for? That was pretty good work, actually. I want you to continue that. I'll name you head of portfolio management. You'll work your ass of for me, Lindsey. You'll get married this summer, you'll keep my business going, and these videos stay where they are. Here's your new contract." I slide a Manila folder over to him and he puts his hand on it shakily. "I think it's in your best interest to sign."

I place a fountain pen next to the folder and give him a short smile. "I'll be less generous with the bonus, though."

He swallows and licks his lips. For a second I have to fight my nausea. Then he nods, and I manage to keep my smile straight.

Lindsey takes the pen, scribbles down his signatures next to mine and hurries out of the room.

I carefully close the file, align the folders with the table and lean back in my chair.

Only then do I allow myself to cry.