#the shitshow we call a great country

[tiredzane]

welcome to america

we have… reconsidering the jim crow law in mississippi, 200+ anti trans bills, cishet men making decisions for people with vaginas, and crappy gun laws that get innocent people killed anywhere and everywhere.

[hussyknee]

THE LEFTIST THIRD PARTY HAS WON SRI LANKA'S PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION.

WE HAVE A PRO-LGBT, PRO-UNION, ANTI-ETHNOFASCIST, ANTI-IMPERIALIST PRESIDENT. MY ANTHROPOLOGY PROFESSOR IS GOING TO BE PRIME MINISTER. A COMPETENT ACADEMIC WHO HAS WORKED ON FEMINIST INITIATIVES AND RESEARCH ALL HER CAREER.

please please please please god don't let them fuck this up don't let them turn into a bunch of cunts to retain their new voter base don't let them fuck up the economy don't let them let the minorities down please please please they won't ever get another chance if they ruin this one we'll be stuck with more idiot corrupt nepo babies till we die please please please PLEASE LET THIS BE THE END OF THE EXECUTIVE PRESIDENCY AND PREVENTION OF TERRORISM ACT AND PERSECUTING THE NORTH please please please let them decriminalize being gay and not bury LGBT rights please please please let there be a god I can't take anymore of this shitshow please please please don't let hope be something that keeps pissing in our faces please please please please please please please

ANURA KUMARA DISSANAYAKE WILL BE THE NINTH PRESIDENT OF SRI LANKA. TAKE THAT YOU TWO PARTY VOTING MOTHERFUCKERS.

Edit:

WHAT DO YOU MEAN FUCKING COLOMBO WENT TO THE IDIOT NEPO BABY???

AKD HAD 52%!!!!! HE WAS ALL BUT SWORN IN?????

THEY HAVE TO COUNT THE SECOND PREFERENTIAL VOTE FOR ONLY THE SECOND TIME IN HISTORY??

There is a very real chance that nobody will get over 50% of the vote. That would be really, really bad.

Fuck.

I HATE YOU MOTHERFUCKING URBAN MIDDLE CLASS LIBERAL CUNTS SO MUCH. PLAGUE ON THE WHOLE DAMN COUNTRY. FUCK YOU.

Edit 2:

Ok so first counting gets AKD 42% and SP 32%. It's very likely the preferentional vote will put him over the 50% line.

It's so poetic that Ranil's greed for power ended up handing the country to the very Marxists that his uncle hunted like animals. You love to see it. 🥰

Edit 3:

So the preferential vote didn't give anyone a 50% majority and we're still at AKD 42% and SP 32%. But apparently that's enough to declare AKD President as per the Constitution. I don't think that's ever happened before. He was sworn in an hour ago.

Point of clarification: The NPP are not Marxists. Foreign news is just uncritically regurgitating the pro-government Red Scare propaganda. AKD and his JVP party used to be Marxists back in the '80s and '90s. They're now more very pro-union socialist. The NPP is their coalition, which is even more mildly social democrat and just happens to be a little more left than the other two. Calling them a Marxist is like how MAGA thinks the Dems are commies. 😂

I truly don't have great hopes that much will change, but there's a chance one or two important things might. Which is more than we've been able to hope for in decades.

See this post for a run down of the what's really been happening.

Edit 4:

I retract the "openly bisexual" part with many apologies. I completely misremembered. It wasn't AKD but JVP senior K. D. Lalkantha, who said in a 2018 interview is that he has also had same sex encounters with his friends as a boy and young man, and that he knows others who have had as well. And he specifically said he doesn't see the need to maintain a label for his sexuality. Still, the fact that his party allowed this in a country that still criminalises homosexuality, to a Sinhalese magazine, speaks to a commitment to LGBT rights. He also explicitly stated his support for women's rights, trans rights, polyamory, open relationships, explicit sexuality in media. It's impressively progressive for this country. The interview is in Sinhala and you can read it here.

Here's an excellent write-up of AKD's career, political outlook and creation of NPP in The Hindu by correspondent Meena Srinivasan, a journalist whose reporting I've always liked.

[jealusty--movedaccounts]

Adore You

PAIRINGS : minho × gn! reader

WORD COUNT : 2.8k and some change

GENRE : angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, slightly suggestive (very very slight)

WARNINGS : mentions of anxiety/depression (not descriptive), the world showing the reader the middle finger, established relationship, minho calls the reader bunny, lots of hugging and cuddling, minho is whipped, and a very respectful gentleman (except for when he gropes the reader but he's just a touchy feely person, okay), they're so in love, minho gets emotional and cries :(, also gets a little horny and almost pops a boner lmao.

lower case intended.

A/N : hi! here is some fluffy whipped minho for you. this fic is my first baby so please treat it well. feedbacks and reblogs are very highly appreciated! proofread like a thousand times, so we should be good as far as mistakes go. still let me know if anything needs fixing!

feel free to let me know what you liked and what you didn't, I'll try to change my future works accordingly. enjoy!

Main Masterlist

"min?"

"mm?"

"thank you"

"what for, bunny?"

"no one's ever done this to me."

"done what?"

"adored me like you do."

what a shitshow of a day.

but you've been through worse, right? you can get through this, right? right?

as it turns out,

wrong.

oh so very wrong.

the day was jinxed from the moment you got up on the metaphorical wrong side of the bed. being sleep deprived was nothing out of the ordinary for you, but even so, today it felt as if someone had replaced battery acid for your eye drops you put in the night prior.

great, now I have puffy eyes on top of my dark circles. how cute.

the geyser broke down so you had to take a freezing ice cold shower at 6 AM on a Tuesday morning in February (the weather reports later told you that it had been the coldest day in the last 3 winters in your country, by the way).

love that for me.

you somehow managed to teleport your shivering form into the kitchen. you had no motivation to make anything edible, so cereal it is. you got the milk out, not bothering to heat it up and dumped it into a bowl. lazily kicking open the lower cupboard, you snatched the cereal box, and tried shoving the cereal into the bowl to then quickly shove it down your throat and get this horrible thing called breakfast out of the way... only, nothing came out. the box was empty.

okay, wow. are you serious right now?

you were starting to get irritated.

doesn't matter. I don't like eating anything this early anyway. it's good. perfect, even. I'll just have my morning coffee and be on my way.

you were out of coffee pods. and when you begrudgingly went to make instant coffee, you realised you were out of vanilla syrup as well. already running late, grabbing coffee on your way to work was not an option either.

excuse you!? I can't function without caffiene in my system. I'm practically a zombie without it.

getting ready quickly, you slipped on your favourite pair of sneakers, not caring about your work place dress code.

it can go fuck itself for all I care. I deserve to be comfy at least if I'm not having any caffiene today.

all set, just as you locked your gate, and took the first step forward, you noticed a weight dangling off right underneath your sneakers. glancing down, you were met with the adorable sight of your sole barely hanging on to the base of your shoe.

not my favourite sneakers!

that was just the beginning of the most horribly horrible day in the history of horrible days of your horrible life. and no, you were not exaggerating. the subway was incredibly crowded and you did not get a seat, hanging off the grab bars, bumping against sweaty bodies.

why are they sweaty this early in the goddamn morning!? did they forget the concept of showers?

you were standing right in front of a dude seated on the train bench, shamelessly trying to look up your skirt. you told him off, taking off a part of your frustration on him, with a teenage girl looking up at you in awe. you got to work about a whooping 34 minutes late, which your boss rubbed in your face all day (yes, no round offs here, "you were precisely 34 minutes late. every minute counts after all!"). your best friend called in sick. the canteen was out of your favourite acai. the dry as fuck bread might as well have been sandpaper. you zoned out during the meeting and made a blabbering fool out of yourself when asked for an opinion.

so yeah, when you came back home with a pounding headache - we have the lack of caffiene to thank for that - feeling like shit, wanting to drown in your blankets, and sob yourself to sleep, it was pretty reasonable, you supposed.

so you did just that.

minho was on his way over to your apartment after you had not replied to any of his texts all day. he sent you the usual morning message you loved so much, but never got a response. it was so unlike you. he sent another "are you alright?" message a couple hours later, only to be met with radio silence. figuring you were busy, he didn't bother you any further.

so here he was in an Uber with your apartment as his destination.

deftly climbing out of the cab, he knocked on your door softly a few times. and when he didn't get a response, he pulled the copy of the key you had given him and let himself in. even though he had a copy, he always preferred to knock. partly because he wanted to respect your privacy, which was very valuable to you. he had no sense of personal space or privacy when it came to dating, but it became clear pretty early on in the relationship, that it was something you deeply cared about. and he would always respect what was dear to you. the other reason was that over the course of time, he had come to enjoy seeing you open the door for him - wrapping him in your warm embrace, the blueberry scent that you carried with you everywhere flooding his senses and calming any lingering tension in his muscles - versus getting in himself.

entering your cozy place, he was immediately alert, fire alarms going off in his head upon seeing the darkness engulfing your apartment. the living room, kitchen, the small study room to the side, everything was plunged in darkness. you always kept the lights on and had some heavenly candle burning, which he had come to find comfort in. you never kept the lights off. he couldn't think of any other time when he came over and you had them off. never. except that one time when...

holy shit!

he dashed to the bedroom, swinging the door open, panic coursing through his veins.

at first, he thought the bed was empty with just a ball of blankets tangled together. but as he softly padded across the room to get to the bed, he saw a fluffy head of hair poking out from underneath the edge of the blanket.

gingerly, he tugged it down only to come face to face with your tear stained face. a look of pure horror flicked across his face, as against his better judgement - because you had clearly been through something and were finally getting some sleep - he softly whispers,

"bunny?"

you didn't even stir, clearly exhausted. he felt bad for trying to disturb you from your slumber but he just had to know that his nightmare was not unfolding right in front of his eyes.

"hey, baby, you okay?" he gently nudged your elbow.

opening your eyes, peering up at him through tear drenched eyelashes, you go "minho?" voice groggy.

he gets into bed with you, sliding under the covers, wanting to comfort you. but he couldn't pull you into him just yet. keeping you at arms length, he mutters,

"you doing okay, bunny?" he studies your face and upon not seeing what he was fearing, relaxes a bit.

you don't say anything. instead, opting to slowly shift forward and sniffle into his chest.

"hey, hey, hey, talk to me, bunny. I'm here. I'm here. shhh." he started petting your hair, gliding his fingers through them, massaging your scalp just like he always did because it calmed you down.

"had the worst day." you barely mumble against his chest.

"it's okay. wanna talk about it?"

you slightly shake your head no, grip on him tightening.

"it's okay. everything's okay. I'm here now. we don't have to talk about it. just relax for me, yeah?"

you sigh at that, his hand in your hair lulling you back into the limbo between consciousness and sleep. your breathing evened out soon enough and you felt at peace at last, after the horrible fucking day - the day that could honestly go fucking fuck itself for fucking you over. the fucking irritati-

"woah, woah, bunny, what has you worked up again?" minho's words broke you out of the trance you didn't realise you'd slipped into.

"huh?"

"you're trembling." he wound the other arm underneath and around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest, his other hand still in your hair, his chin atop your head.

"you're with me, baby. you're safe."

as your shivering started to subside, he couldn't help but think back to that horrifying thought again. although he did somehow relax a bit initially, his mind was once again plagued with the possibility.. what if-

"no!" he didn't catch himself saying that out loud, until your head snapped up to look at him with bloodshot eyes. the sight broke his heart.

"are you okay, minho?" you whisper, somehow feeling selfish for not noticing until now that he seemed to be worked up too. as comforting as his hold on you was, you were just now realising his body was tense. did he have a bad day too?

as he looked down at you, he scanned your features, carefully trying to gauge out what was actually going on. he didn't see that look on your face. looking into your eyes, he didn't see that distant, far off, aloof emptiness that he once did - all those months ago. he kept staring at you for what felt like hours, eyes never staying at one place for long, nervously raking over every one of your features. but then why were the lights off when he came in? surely history isn't repeating itself. surely you're not-

"minho?"

he jumps at that, coming out of whatever rabbit hole he had gone into. you were looking at him with wide eyes, still bleary from tears and sleep. he found his resolve crumble. he really did want to give you space, to not rush you into telling him what was wrong, but the panic bubbling in his chest was making him downright nauseous with worry. so he says,

"you... you're no- you're not" he gulps "you..." he trails off, words forming an ugly lump in his throat he didn't seem to be able to swallow.

looking into his eyes, you could see the panic, the tension, the dread, his normally handsome face pale with terror.

as if a light bulb went off in your head, you suddenly knew exactly what he was thinking.

you lunge forward, knocking him back a little, clenching your hands into fists and balling up the material of the shirt in front of his chest, burying your face in his neck.

"no, baby, no. I'm okay. it's okay"

you could still feel him tense underneath your fingertips, so you pull your head from where it was nestled in his neck, looking straight into his eyes. steeling yourself, mustering up what little resolve you had left after the day, you spoke with as much assertion as you could,

"I'm not having an episode, minho. that was months ago," you stressed on the word "that was months ago, baby. I went to therapy, I got treated, I got well. it's all in the past now. I'm all healed."

"you know there's no such things as healed. we- we did go to therapy but it can resurface anytime." his voice was barely above a whisper, wobbling around the edges.

we.

he always did that. even back then, it was always we for him. "we were suffering", "we went to therapy", "we'll get through this together", "we're doing better now", "we got over it", "we're gonna stay strong"...

when you look up at him, you see the beginning of tears starting to form in his sombre eyes. your heart clenched.

leaning forward, you softly cupped his face with both hands, voice low but still confident, if only to assure him,

"I know. but you know we can tell when it's happening, right? I can tell that I'm fine. but even moreso, you can see that I'm fine, right? you were always able to tell just by looking at me for a second."

he examines your face once again. after a beat, he's eyes droop into a relaxed stance, his body going limp beside you.

"yeah, you're fine. b-but i.. it scared me. I was scared, baby. it was a very difficult time for us."

there it is, us.

"I- I just.." his voice broke, tears now steadily falling down his pretty, pretty face, dropping onto the mattress, taking your heart with them.

you moved toward him once again, mushing him against you this time, his body plaint in your hold, seeking your warmth.

"I know, baby, I know. it was. but its over now, okay?"

he continued sobbing quietly.

"minho, look at me" he did. you forced a pained smile "I'm smiling, see?"

he let out a huff at that, what could've been a chuckle if he wasn't so out of breath from crying.

"that's obviously fake."

"but if i was indeed.. uh- unwell", you didn't know how else to put it, "I won't be able to fake it either."

which was true. if you were back to that state of mind where you felt breathless in your own skin - a place you might have still been dwelling in, if it wasn't for your boyfriend - you wouldn't even have the energy to talk, let alone try to fake a smile.

he just hummed and went back to snuggle his head in your chest.

"Mr. lee, are you using this as an excuse to cope a feel?" you attempted to lighten the mood.

this time, he actually did chuckle. the sound warmed your heart, healing all the exhaustion from your body.

"do I need an excuse to grope you, bunny?" he was back to his teasing self apparently, shamelessly dragging his hand down to your ass, cupping it and squeezing. hard.

you laughed at that, pecking his lips gently and let yourself relax, his hand still on your ass by the way.

you don't how long you lay there like that with him, listening to the quiet sounds of his breathing, once again floating in the blissful clutches of sleep, albeit, a lot more relaxed now.

and while you were still half awake, you felt something warm, and soft on the top of your head. the feeling travelled down to your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, warming you. it was only when it ghosted against your lips did you realise that it was minho peppering your face with doting kisses. in your dazed state, you could faintly make out his hands brushing your hair out of your face, tucking them behind your ear, tenderly caressing your back.

still more than half asleep, you murmur with your eyes closed, a stupid lazy smile on your face,

"min?"

he smiled at the nickname, the look in his eyes growing even fonder. you never call him that. that nickname is reserved for when you're either trying to act cute to get something from him or during your sleepy incoherent mumbling, apparently. he keens at that, heart fluttering, refusing to stay in one place.

while he's busy swooning, you call out again, pouting, with the same goddamn nickname, sounding entirely too sweet and cute for a grown ass woman. it's almost a whine and is enough to make his head spiral down the gutter. how you whine when you're under him, looking up at him with wide doe-eyes, your face contorted in pleasure, his di-

snapping out of his train of dirty thoughts about an unassuming you, he looks down and is met with your closed eyelids, looking so peaceful and fragile in his hold, and immediately wills himself to calm the fuck down. how humiliating would it be to pop a boner right now. taking a deep breath all he manages to say is,

"mm?"

"thank you."

"what for, bunny?"

"no one's ever done this to me." you mindlessly mumble, not really answering his question, clearly out of it due to your sleepy muddle.

"done what?"

"kissed me like this while I'm asleep. adored me like you do."

his heart swelled at that. wounding around you even more, he spoke into your hair,

"you've got me now. I adore you, bunny. so much."

blissful in your sleepy haze, you shift closer, drifting off into the distant slumber, knowing that you were adored. by a person you adored just as much.

Main Masterlist

© JEALUSTY 2022. All rights reserved. Copying, editing, reposting and translating any of my works are not allowed. Please do not claim any of my works as your own.

[sgiandubh]

Interesting 🤔

https://www.tumblr.com/outlanderskin/740526433423802368/today-i-was-thinking-if-i-were-a-famous-person-i

Dear Famous Person Anon,

I read what @outlanderskin wrote with great attention and I agree with roughly every word in it.

I can only offer you my own view/experience of it, after more than 20 years in several Government jobs, all across the board. I can tell you, for example, that every single day (yes, even on Sundays!) two different press reviews hit my inbox. Our own MFA's Global Press Review (this is how you find out, for example, what the South African or Mexican or Chinese press wrote about your country, if anything of note happened). Also, the Local Press Review, which is much more interesting and which usually comes from the host country's central news agency. The Local Press Review is a short, generalist overview of the main news and you have to read it while having your frappé and koulouri. This is often where you'll fish out ideas for your day: make a couple of phone calls, check the info, invite someone you know for lunch in town and eventually write home a short report, if needed.

If I were these people's PR agent, I would surely have somebody paid to monitor press on their behalf. But Tumblr? That, Anon, is a stretch, even in my world: we never read local blogs, unless they are involved in a local media scandal, or something. And, sorry to burst some people's bubbles and bruise some egos here, but: you can boast around all the Sources and Timelines you want, you will still be just another gossip blog. Nothing less, but nothing more.

This is exactly why such an inordinate interest for Tumblr, who made it on mainstream global media, via C's Vanity Fair diatribe, will always make me raise an eyebrow. Think about it: had it been S, the ABC crowd would have opened their champagne bottles (gay! closeted gay! cheap cover up!). But it was C, someone with the 'perfect press story'. Why even bother? I shall let you draw your own conclusions, Anon.

Plus we all know they read us and sometimes react and, to be honest, it's plain to see. It's not the 'if', here: the 'why' is one of the keys to this whole shitshow.

I hope this helps. Thanks for asking!

[wttcsms]

✧ wttcsms works in progress;

a look into what's in my drafts because yes, i do write, thank you very much!!! please feel welcome to scream at me in my askbox and make me tell you more about any of the wips here

last updated apr 19 2023

it always leads to you — sae itoshi x f!reader

most likely a mini multipart series (probably around 4-6 parts, each only about ~6-7k words each). nsfw + plot (porn w plot)

current stage: prologue finished, outline needs to be done

current wc: 4k

current tags: exes to fwb/situationship to strangers with a history to awkward co-parents to lovers (relationship status: it's complicated!), pregnancy, child is part of the plot, angst, character study into sae, timeskip, homesickness, nsfw

started off as a one shot (5 times you can't escape the memory of your ex, sae, + the 1 time he comes back) but while writing it, i realized that the reunion between the two of you opened the doors to a lot more possibilities. originally, i just wanted to have it leave off at him on your doorstep whenever he decided to stay in japan bc he heard of blue lock and wanted to stick around & since he was in the area, he would find himself coming back to you. (he breaks up with you before high school graduation when he decides to go to spain). however, that scene spiraled into you & him reconciling, and eventually, there was an open sort of ending where sae decides that maybe the two of you do have a fighting chance of working out.

HOWEVER, i wanted to explore this dynamic even deeper, so the fic kind of spirals away from the canon timeline + i'm introducing a timeskip. you & sae have this weird ass long distance situationship where the distance feels like too much of an obstacle to overcome, the two of you are always on the brink of a "break up", he ends up visiting, the two of you kiss & make up and have renewed hope that this shitshow of a relationship can still work, and it's just an endless, toxic cycle, really. there's genuine love, but he's too in his head & in an entirely different country — world, really — from you, and things are hard and he's shitty at feelings. at this point, sae is 20 & making his debut into the world of professional international football.

on the same day he's about to sign with a great team, he receives a phone call from you.

you're pregnant.

he hangs up without a word. (asshole behavior but seems p in theme with what we're shown so far abt him)

the next part following that is another timeskip. this time, sae is 27 and moving back home to japan. he's in the middle of recovering from an injury, one so bad that he will never be able to play soccer again, especially at the level he was it. now he's back home, licking his wounds, and having to face everything he's spent so hard trying to run away from.

i think this fic is my first attempt at redeeming a character; i know we don't know much abt sae or his internal thoughts + intentions, but i'm having fun with fleshing him out as a flawed person who actually had good intentions. he fucked up, majorly, and reader isn't keen on taking him back. you're colder to him than you ever were, and you barely want anything to do with him. swapping the dynamic on him is also really fun to do as a writer; sae goes from the one who's out of reach and reader is the one chasing after him but now, reader is the person out of reach & sae is the one doing the chasing.

song inspiration: renegade - big red machine ft. taylor swift, cardigan - taylor swift, betty - taylor swift, exile - taylor swift, best - gracie abrams, i know it won't work - gracie abrams, the last time - taylor swift, tis the damn season - taylor swift, right where you left me - taylor swift

married (with benefits) — rin itoshi x f!reader

most likely a loooong one shot (~13k, hopefully not over 20k) nsfw / porn w plot

current stage: outline in progress

current wc: tbd

current tags: fake marriage/marriage of convenience trope, wag culture, single dad!rin, son's teacher!reader, BREEDING KINK, falling in love, mutual pining, oh no there's only one bed!!!!, jealous!rin, protective&possessive!rin, "don't speak to my wife like that" trope

original post talking abt this can be found here

basically reader is FLAT BROKE LMAO and is given the opportunity of a lifetime bc rin itoshi needs to save face and beat his awful ex-wife in their custody battle for his son.

my heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue — jean kirstein x f!reader

nsfw / porn w plot one shot (~8k)

current stage: first scene that sets up the mood for the fic is completed

current wc: 1k

current tags: fwb to lovers, toxic relationship (not w jean), college/modern au, praise kink, love confessions, jean is just so sweet & so boyfriend ok, idiots in love, mutual pining, insecure!reader, nsfw

this was a request from a follower <3 basically reader originally likes eren and they're in a toxic situationship and reader is crying over eren at a party, you run into jean, he gives you the best dicking down of your LIFE. essentially, u fall in love w ur situationship but get a happy ending this time around lol

[contentment-of-cats]

Further TL;DR rant on Eli Vanto

"Caucasian features."

It's been bugging the absolute f*ck out of me.

Yes, I am back on my Eli Vanto bullshit.

Break it down.

White America is a Color

First, I think that only in America is the word Caucasian used to mean white people. The American understanding of Caucasian as meaning white, European-descended people was upheld by the Supreme Court in 1923. The case of United States v. Bhagat Singh Thind ruled that under the Naturalization Act of 1906 that only "free white persons" - also called Caucasians - and "aliens of African nativity and persons of African descent" to become naturalized citizens. Bhagat Singh Thind's argument rested on the descent of Europeans and Indians from a common Proto-Indo-European origin. The court disagreed.

Excerpt below, full text here.

What we now hold is that the words "free white persons" are words of common speech, to be interpreted in accordance with the understanding of the common man, synonymous with the word "Caucasian" only as that word is popularly understood. As so understood and used, whatever may be the speculations of the ethnologist, it does not include the body of people to whom the appellee belongs. It is a matter of familiar observation and knowledge that the physical group characteristics of the Hindus render them readily distinguishable from the various groups of persons in this country commonly recognized as white. The children of English, French, German, Italian, Scandinavian, and other European parentage quickly merge into the mass of our population and lose the distinctive hallmarks of their European origin. On the other hand, it cannot be doubted that the children born in this country of Hindu parents would retain indefinitely the clear evidence of their ancestry. It is very far from our thought to suggest the slightest question of racial superiority or inferiority. What we suggest is merely racial difference, and it is of such character and extent that the great body of our people instinctively recognize it and reject the thought of assimilation.

It is not without significance in this connection that Congress, by the Act of February 5, 1917, 39 Stat. 874, c. 29, § 3, has now excluded from admission into this country all natives of Asia within designated limits of latitude and longitude, including the whole of India. This not only constitutes conclusive evidence of the congressional attitude of opposition to Asiatic immigration generally, but is persuasive of a similar attitude toward Asiatic naturalization as well, since it is not likely that Congress would be willing to accept as citizens a class of persons whom it rejects as immigrants.

So, in America, the term Caucasian means 'white people' and not people of the Caucasus, or a group of people who have 'Caucasian features.' This is still accepted and common usage, despite the science of race being on a par with the sciences of alchemy, astrology, phrenology, a flat earth and the sun orbiting it.

Who with the What, Now?

A German philosopher named Christoph Meiners started the whole shitshow. He divided the races into the 'Caucasian' or 'beautiful' race and the 'Mongoloid' or 'ugly' race. Johann Friedrich Blumenbach carried it further in 1795, dividing humanity into five races by skin color.

First, this image is all over the search results, no findable attribution, but I'm using it because it's accurate in terms of skin colors:

Other 'Caucasian features' included narrow noses with small nostrils and a sharp nasal sill, small mouths with thin lips, prominent supraorbital (above the eye socket) ridges, orthognathism and high cheekbones. Of course, in the late 1700s when all this was being quantified into 'racial features' not many Caucasoids fit into the categories. Not a lot of people do today. I'd love to have everyone in America take a 23-and-Me test, then make them sit down, shut the fuck up and think.

Star Wars and Mis-coloring

I am old enough to remember when Lando Calrissian was the only black man in the galaxy.

Eli Vanto.

Tan.

Really.

The definition of 'tan' is a yellowish brown color, or the processing of leather, but we're going with the classic "brown or darkened shade of skin developed after exposure to the sun." In short a tan is acquired and not an innate skin color. It doesn't help that one of the most referenced fandom resources repeatedly characterizes brown people as 'tan.'

Even Breha Organa is miscolored as 'golden tan.' These guys did not acquire a goddamn tan hanging out on Scarif. Luke Skywalker was mighty white even after living his whole life on a desert planet, and Obi Wan had not a trace of tan despite living there as long as Luke. These are brown people. Black characters such as Adi Gallia and Mace Windu are characterized as "dark."

For shit's sake. Is everyone at Wookiepedia afraid of the word 'brown?'

Light brown. Medium brown. Dark brown.

I realize that the GFFA doesn't have Earth's definitions of ethnicity, nationality, or race but miscoloring is miscoloring. Tacking on 'Caucasian features' is adding a racist trope to insult. Structural racism in the US is deeply ingrained and often the default setting when it comes to media. It is important to give people their representation when it is right fucking there.

Eli Vanto is brown. His canon appearance is in the comics, and while he might have been originally storyboarded as a white redhead, he did not stay that way. His voice actor in the audiobooks gave him a Texas twang, but maybe in other versions of the audiobook, he speaks with a different accent.

Turkish Eli? Sure.

Brazilian Eli? Absolutely.

Oaxacan Eli? Why not.

Desi Eli? Heck yes.

Mizrahi Eli? Bring it.

He's brown. Not white. Not tan with Caucasian features. He is as brown as Thrawn is blue.

[ivansergeyevichturgenev]

reasons i'm considering leaving my job before i graduate, all taken from today:

(under a readmore bc i'm being driven borderline insane and the fact i took the time to write this out probably makes me crazy)

- a table that didn't understand why their reservation of 4 didn't guarantee them a table for 5. their children were entitled brats and shoved their menus in my face. i asked them multiple times if they need x, y, or z. they told me no to my face but would wave me down screaming ma'am!!! ma'am!!!! we need this NOW!!! like five times. and btw, they weren't things i could have anticipated. how was i supposed you needed a tonic with your dinner? finally, they pay, but the woman claims i never gave her a receipt to sign. i thought that was weird because it automatically prints and i would never not give someone their receipt? anyways i reprint it for her and she says in the most condescending tone, "it's okay. we all make mistakes" guess where the receipts were? in the fucking floor. at her feet.

- had a 6 top. they order apps immediately but say they need time on drinks. i get their drinks. they order a wine to come with dinner. i was going to bring it a little before but they said NO. it was to come with DINNER. not at all before. okay, got it. you're not getting your wine until dinner is on the table 🙄 like i get it but also this is not that type of restaurant i do not have a super small section to give completely perfect service. actually, we're incredibly short staffed tonight bc one server didn't feel well and all of the high schoolers forgot to ask off and all called out before their shifts. so my apologies. a couple at the table ordered a salad to share before dinner. they each got steaks. now, dear reader, i need you to know something: work in this industry long enough and you will realize that people will go off their fucking rocker to suggest that soup and salad can come any time than before their meal. salads and soups are starters unless otherwise specified. i heard them say we'll get a salad to start. anyways, salad comes out, i notice they aren't touching it. i ask what's wrong. they say it was supposed to come with dinner. who the fuck is ordering a salad with their dinner, unless they ordered several apps or a side. they ordered full meals. i gave people round two of silver because i could tell they wanted new silver which was fine. that included soup spoons for the man who did actually order soup for dinner and his wife because he said they were sharing. well dinner comes and he doesn't understand why everyone doesn't have a spoon to share his soup. what? WHAT? oh also, i did their bottle service right after their food arrived. same man, (not even the one who ordered it), demanded to know where it was. Um, coming. since you said you wouldn't have it until food was on the table? the one actually egregious thing i did to these people was i broke a glass on their table. never in my life had i done this before. i profusely apologized, cleaned it up, and comped some of their desserts. upon leaving, this man finds my boss to tell me how awful i was from the salad to the wine to the fact their empty wine glasses were on the table too long for his liking? but they still had a little bit of wine in the bottle. i did take them once i realized okay they were done but like? they just seemed very difficult. and i pride myself on giving each guest a great experience. but the glass breaking didn't even make it until his spiel about how awful i was. sorry i'm not a mind reader! sorry this isn't fine dining! nobody told you to spend over $500 at this restaurant where we wear jeans and t shirts! plus my bottle service was literally spotless.

- i totally have an ear infection that i can't do anything about until monday bc i do not have urgent care money. i am in pain and contemplated yelling this at the above people because the restaurant industry is a shitshow in this country and it only functions by not paying its waitstaff and not giving anyone benefits. feel free to explain insurance shit to me but i have never once been able to go to urgent care and not receive a $1000 bill so my ass won't be going! the people who serve you fine wine and good food often come into work sick and in pain because we can't fucking afford not to.

- what is even crazier is the fact that the other half of my tables wrote rave reviews about me, claiming i was a wonderful server. so i know i wasn't on my a game tonight bc i felt like shit, but it cannot all possibly be me.

[ghoulangerlee]

For the concert asks (all of them lol) jk! 1, 2, 17, 18, 19!

very late reply but here we goooooo ive only been to 3 concerts in my life so maybe doing all of them wouldn't be that interesting haha

How many live concerts have you been to

I've been to 3, technically 4 if you could the shitshow on Tuesday. Two were for the same artist and one was a local one I went to bc my brother in law got us in free. I have seen a lot of bands play but they were usually local acts at the town's yearly festival.

2. What was the first concert you ever attended?

2010 in New York City at the Best Buy Theater, I saw this jpop artist named Jin Akanishi. I'm a very big fan of his haha. He'd gone solo and did a few shows in the US.

17. Which show would you say was the most beautiful?

I would definitely say that the stage setup for my first concert. It was called Yellow Gold Tour 3010. Very futuristic and very fun honestly. A lot of well choreographed dancing and stunning vocals.

18. which show would you say was the most fun?

So, because I've been to so little concerts, they've all been fun in their own ways. 2010's Yellow Gold Tour 3010 was something new and that was my first time in New York, my first time going to a concert. We were the only show that tour to get an encore of a beloved song of his. He was very shy about it and someone in the crowd handed him a sheet of lyrics for that song bc he kept saying it was a Japanese song and no one would want to hear it.

when I saw him again in 2012 for the Japonicana tour, it was very different than the previous one but no less fun! I spent 24 hours on the streets of New York City to get barricade haha. That was a wild rush because I was so tired it felt like I was having so much more fun.

I saw Charlie Daniels in 2013 and that was just a great time all around bc I am a big fan of country music at heart and something about seeing The Devil Went Down to Georgia live and just yelling the lyrics along with thousands of other people felt so right.

19. do you scream and lose your damn mind or do you sing along quietly to yourself?

there is absolutely nothing more exhilarating than screaming the lyrics along with the artist and losing your damn mind. I make it a point, whenever I go to a concert, to pour over the songs/set list so I Know what's being performed so I know the songs so I can Sing Along With It. When I was planning to see Jin in 2010, he didn't have an album. I learned all of the songs he performed at the concert specifically by listening to very shakily recorded fancams from the other shows haha.

thank you so much!!!

[kyogre-blue]

Why are you anti-Nahida, if you don't mind me asking? 👀

(Apologies ahead of time that this very, unreasonably bitter and full of profanity.)

Spite, mostly.

Aside from that, lots of small things come together in a very unfortunate way.

First, her story role is extremely bland at best, and given Genshin's lack of good writing to balance it, it comes across as worse. How wonderful to get another archon who is just too sad and not at all at fault for the shitshow their country is. I'm so glad we got another round of "it's all those evil old advisors who are wrong." Except unlike Ei, Nahida doesn't even have anything resembling an actual character under that. She's just "cute child, don't you feel sorry for her??" No, I don't. She's almost the same age as Yae, regardless of how her model looks, she's not actually a baby, get over it. I don't want to see this nonsense about how all the other archons would rush over to save her and coo over her.

Then, she had the distinction of being written to have the annoying as fuck role of going "I know the solution of this time loop, but I won't tell you because it'll just blow your mind." It's just a dream, there's nothing special about it. That shit was frustrating as hell, AND she constantly drags you into those godawful thought matching minigrames. I hate those. She also just denies you Sumeru Katheryne until you finish Act 3?? That's an important NPC! Way more important than you! (These aren't her fault as a character, obviously, but they're associated with her, so it all piles up.)

In general, she lacks any particular characterization or appeal, but they sure do bend the writing to make sure we know how wonderful she is. She was so concerned about possessing people! Until she decided it was fiiine and also Katheryne doesn't count and the mad scholars don't count. Don't you see how she protected Aaru even though no one cares about her? Don't you see how she's so nice and good and such a great god? And she sure loves those caged bird metaphors. Did you get it? Here's a cage just to drive it. Here's another cage. She's a bird, you get it?? Don't you feel sorry for her? Don't you feel sorry for her when she calls herself just a weak reflection of Rukkhadevata? (No, I don't.) By the way, wasn't Rukkha so great too? Wasn't she the bestest?

If the writing fails to sell me on something emotionally, the harder they keep pushing it, the more I hate it.

But adding to all that is how they handled Nahida in terms of gameplay.

So MHY fucked around and failed to launch the seventh of their stated seven elements for 2 years. Cool, cool. So naturally when Dendro launches, it's the hottest new thing, but at the same time, there are no Dendro characters. There are especially no GOOD Dendro characters. Tighnari is made extremely mid because he goes into Standard banner, Collei is very specifically made weaker because she's free, Traveler is as always mediocre. You want to play Dendro, but all the teams are held back by the fact that Dendro characters largely suck and their only contribution to the team is "applies Dendro."

And into this, they launch Nahida. She's got low cooldown but insane uptime. She's got Dendro application up the wazoo. She has properly balanced scaling. She has great personal damage. She can share EM. She can give crit to Bloom. She can magnify reactions. She can spread reactions between enemies. She has the absolutely cutesiest normals you've ever seen, even though she's not a cutesy character to begin with. She's the best pull in all of Genshin.

Do you want to play Dendro teams? Get Nahida. Get her, or else your Dendro teams will always be subpar.

The next Dendro? Not until 3.4, and it's not even guaranteed they're flexible enough for most teams.

You want to play Dendro, don't you? You want to play these cool new teams, don't you??

Get Nahida.

OK, well, how about fuck you instead.

Not only is the excessive push about how she's totally bestest and near mandatory annoying on its own, but you KNOW all the subsequent Sumeru characters will really want her. Cyno wants her because that's the only way to get uptime on his long burst, Nilou desperately wants her for any sense of flexibility in her bloom teams, the rest are probably going to be stapled to her too. And if we look at how Zhongli is still the reigning king of shielding, Nahida is going to remain uncontested as best Dendro for years at minimum because god forbid a precious Archon ever be doubted. (Venti? Fuck him in particular.)

She's also a child model (awkward at best, feels bad to play), with ridiculous animations that are just dripping with forced, fake cuteness, and her outfit is......... by far the stupidest of the children. Yeah, let her run around barefoot for no reason, that's fine...

Her characterization is pathetic, her story role is annoying, her design is generic and kind of stupid, her animations are infuriating and fake, and her meta role is just the worst iteration of gacha bullshit.

I hate her.

[rowanthehumannottheplant]

04/10/2023

Hi there!

My name’s Rowan and I’m incredibly passionate about plants and greenery and all that good stuff. I’m attempting to get into a career within horticulture but I’m having a bit of trouble.

I didn’t go to university for Horticulture. In fact I think I got a D in GCSE Biology. When I started this journey, the only experience that I had was from owning and taking care of my houseplants, visiting botanical gardens with my family, and that my family garden was beautifully maintained by my Mum.

Since then, I have gotten experience. I moved into a house with my boyfriend and for the first time in a good couple of years, I had the space and permanency to experiment with growing things. We have a greenhouse! Over a couple of years, we’ve been able to grow vegetables from saplings, grow sunflowers to decorate our dinner table, and plant permanent structures which will come back season after season. I’ve was also able to work in a Garden Centre for a time, which boosted my enthusiasm, and I met some really great people.

I’m also pursuing further education so that I can learn more and gain qualifications. I’m currently taking part in the RHS Level 2 Certificate in the Principles of Plant Growth and Development. I’m having so much fucking fun! It’s so interesting and I’m learning how to answer my own questions about horticulture, and I’m surrounded by people who are equally as enthusiastic. This course could really change things for me! I also know that I want to maybe do an apprenticeship in a relevant course, if possible.

And then there’s the problem that I didn’t consider might be a problem when I started. Sure, when I began on this journey, my main goals were “Plants and Greenery” and “Makes me happy”, so I didn’t have the best knowledge of this career sector at the time. I didn’t know what I was missing.

I don’t have a driving license. Most people by the time they’re in their early 20s do, but I don’t. When I was a teenager, the time that people in my country typically learn, the people around my told me that it would be pointless learning because by the time I had somewhere to drive to (i.e. a job), it would be years later, and I would have forgotten. I did buy a motorbike at the age of 19 but that was because I was a teenage rebel, not because of any sense of a need for freedom (I think).  

The COVID-19 Pandemic was what many people considered ‘a shitshow’. Facets of society had to be shut down for long periods of time. By the time things started opening up again, the waitlists for certain things were incredibly long, including the wait for Driving Tests in the UK. For my first test, the wait was 5 months. My second test, which I’m preparing for now, is 6 months.

I probably should have known that a car and a drivers license would be very much needed but eh, hindsight’s 20/20. You might need a car or a driving license because sometimes the work that you’re doing might require you to move location or to transport resources and tools. You might need a car because opportunities in your town come up infrequently and the commute to an exciting job can take 4 hours a day via public transport.

I cannot tell you how many times within the past week that a potential employer has called me up saying “You’ve got a great CV, but we really need you to have a driver’s license.”,

Every 5 or 6 months, I get one shot to gain the qualification which will astronomically better my career. It makes me so angry.

This blog will be used to document my experiments and learning journey so that I can evidence my experience and knowledge to potential employers, and also because it might be a fun place to put my work.

Well, thanks for reading. Here's a photo of the pumpkins I harvested yesterday. See you next time!

[fansideblogtocjcherryth]

thoughts on book 2 invader by c. j. cherryth

More of my notes as I try to read through this series. (as usual, reposing from pillowfort with spoilers and swearing.)

Chapter 1

The ship is droping down from the original shitshow with the characters of Bren comeing back to shejidan from his home country from sugery that he much needed. It seems like the aveti children learned about weapons instead of bikes. He tried to talk to his mother but she didn't respond while he was at the hospital. He was able to call his brother Toby with his wife and the government took the files and shit from his computers files. So yeah ribbons are part of the whole shabang with braids and status. He gets off the plane and luckily reunites with Jago and banini who even offer to carry him into the car when he is looking dizzy though he declines. His garden apartment is gone but he is now in neighbors with tabnini. Baji-Naji fortune and chance a common belief of aveti. Deana Hanks is another humon with a rough temper who rightfully earned the moment bren grew a backbone when she treated Jago like shit and threatening to get her arrested. Banichi is pissed with him. Deana was a rivel of his for the title and lost despite her ties with higher ranking friends for the paidhi title. The building is a rank 3 in security.

Chapter 2

The place called Atigeini has a cheif of staff named saidin and all of the staff are women. It sounds like the shit going on since the last book might have effected him more then he would like. Oh great six gust rooms including lady damiri's room. Banichi and jago offer to get the stuff he needs when he asks for some of his things because he is tired. Banichi is noticed to have a limp while the tour is going on. He is still dragged to the meeting.

Chapter 3

Tabini apartment is near where they are so it isn't that hard thankfully. It sounds like they both are similar in things like they like sports tabini likes hunting and bren likes skiing (might explain the love for snow) and we finally see tabini not in a damn flash back with Eidi bookworm maybe assassin, and damiri Tabini consort or wife. She also speaks up on her own, like she is the leader of the country and also sounds curious. Tabini was worried about the shit show from the last book and that touches brens heart. Bren tries to explain the shit show literally above their heads and bluntly explains the shit he went through right after the last book and right before he got there. God screw hanks and tabini would really like to shoot her. Well let's just say paranoia brings paranoia and tabini explains why this shit is so scary. Well hanks might be taking advantage of a indet lord by the named of geigi. They said turnabout ace attorney flash backs. God i love this interaction that they are having and tabinis granny is reveild to be here. Drops a tea.

Chaper 4 

Tabini being a bro for Bren. The ship is trying to check if the abandoned ship has anyone. The meeting reveiled that the stations are more litly firting then getting the avte involved and hanks if hopeing to use the shit show to get what she wanted. Tano is back and with the luggage and illsidi is back the aiji-dowager at least in scroll letter form for now. Oh so this is the part where jago offers to shoot barb his ex fiancée after she breaks up with him. Foreshadowing when he thinks bur doesn't hold onto the thought that the atevi saw him as a hero? Also is the conflicting double identity of human and atevi foreshadowing? . Accidentally tips a cup in the middle of the night and getting Jago to notice the noise.

Chapter 5

The damages have been managed to the best of the ability and holy shit the the storage of the list of the correspondences that hanks has is huge. Banini gets him some tea to a way to get the numbers of the records without people taking out numbers. The faster than light is kept under wraps due to superstitious reasons from the aveti. The recordings that tabini got paints the state of department being behind why they want Deana Hanks to fuck around and find out because of ideological bullshit between the humans on the planet and the ship. Banichi told bren that a message from deana was 'go-to-'elle' aka go to hell. 

Chapter 6

I forgot about the cast until the scene where he had to have duct tape wrapped around it so that he could use the shower. He give a speech about everything about the pro landers like him may point out that the conflict maybe why the ship and hanks is here before an assassin tried to get him, luckily Tano and Jago save him. He apologizes and forgets the mic is on. He gets some rest so that he can speak with Tabini's grandmother tomorrow.

Chapter 7 

He talks with ilisidi , cenedi for tea. Talking about everything getting fucked. She thinks brens ex fiancée is a dumbass for ditching him. Also quite literally calls herself a 'blood handed tyrant' in her rant about history. Cenedi tells him to talk about banichi who is having to deal with assassin Guild shit. Holy shit dose he care for Jago like she is over protective of him. He describe the place as a prison with those he cares for. He describes himself as tabini's property. Jago describes with a distress is ours like a collective. Went through the messages. Deana is just slamming the damn phone to avoid talking to him. 

Chapter 8 

Well shit dose this chapter hit close to home, the desire to attack others due to a superiority complex. Oh boy that really dose hit close to home about conservatives trying to get ride of info about atevi philosophy to children. Tabini gets informed on the shit.

Chapter 9 

He gets a message to the president about the offer about all the shit. Jago and banichi are missing probably due to the assassin Guild. faster then light or FTL is gonna be a real batch to deal with. Bu-javido security about tano's partner algini to guard him while Jago and banichi are Mia, they care about each other in a comrades way. 

Chapter 10

Jago back and helping him with his cast. He manages to get in contact with the Phoenix and explains the treaty and current shit show and managed to get negotiations. Banichi talks with him about hanks and talked about the shit. Hanks finally bothered to call him back, barb did message him , officials as well and ilisidi messaged him to see him. Banichi came in, told him about a gun that was smuggled into the room, the election going on at the Guild banichi is in and jago is back. The banichi salad joke is back when he said he liked tabinis granny. The pregnant calander for urgent meeting. He thinks of malguri from the first book mecheiti nokhada in a dream, also pointing out separating her from her herd an association that was stronger for atevi then humans. He is stuck on a hill in his dream with the beast and a figure trying to reach him. 

Chapter 11 

He gets into a phone argument finally with deana and gets her to have lunch with him. Cenedi , tano are with bren for breakfast and told him that they took down the desire to get him assassinated. Deana gives him the seal she was using to make false orders for him. Jago was probably listening in.

Chapter 12

A committee meeting is happening with geigi about the shit going down, what happened to him in the last book and trying to think of a way to explain FTL in a way that will not piss off the locals. Bren meets up with Jago and Banichi again and explains how the latter is worried about hanks. He starts thinking of looking for astronomers that might be around and banichi says yes he can do it. Sounds like aveti don't really have star lore due to them never domesticated food animals.  The find a rather old one who sounds rather odd and bren tries to explain stars. He calls Toby and a little bit to Toby's daughter and it sounds like brens mom does not like change. All of the human land seems to be silent to him all of a sudden and suddenly Is giving him flash backs to the last time people started avoid telling him anything. He called the ship that's making everyone panic and anounce to him that a representative named  Jason Graham from the space ship. He is summoned to the observatory the day after tomorrow by Jago. 

Chapter 13

Graham expressed his geeky Ness around languages and making bren petty the fact that this little academic is about to get dumped into a political shit show and worries about the human settlement is having on the crew. Jase says they might be worried about everything including the decent to the planet. He talks with tabini about the call with Jason or Jase about plans on protecting Jase. It looks like nepotism is kind of a thing. 

Chapter 14 

A bunch of reporters are talking to bren about the ship. He then goes reading and writing letters. Barb sends him a message as well as alot of other poeple. When he tries to write to ilisidi and asks for tano to give the letter to cenedi to read and instead he gets a letter from ilisidi herself. He then calls barb because he just realized that people are making threats to his loved ones and scaring them and that hanks dad is feeding the flames, it's also the same fear that made her break up with him and he understandably gets mad. Okay after having nostalgia of childhood with his mom and dad he tried to cut the cast of his arm but Jago tries to stop him, not really understanding why. He gets her to let go and help him cut of the cast, looks like there is a secret code from Shawn who might have know about the shit about to go down in a sheet of paper.

Chapter 15

He is worrying about Jago behavior after the talk last night after the cast. Has a heavy part about how there was no romantic interest in the machimi, reticence in it. He is also in a plane with tabini to go hunting with him. Poor tano and algini had to calm him down after seeing a game animal run in front of the train with bren admitting he missed malguri. The place where the astronomer is has some students want to see him. The astronomer emeritus obviously had to have no name even though he solves a nasty crisis of course that has to happen. The old man also forgets to eat. He has a dream that was about him and his beast trying to get inside with the scholars. He wakes up on the plane back to shejidan and thinks to Malguri. 

Chapter 16

He is back with Tabini's grandmother at her breakfast table with her trying to get him to eat after the cast was taken off. She calls geigi the melon why bren is worried for. Oh shit she sounds pissed and he leaves the room feeling like shit.

Chapter 17

He tried thinking through and start thinking about the stockpiling of metal and memories of his mother being worried about an accident while hiking. Saidin talks to him about things.

Chapter 18

He's alone at supper then get a call from barb who tells him what's going on with his mother. Hanks calls and actually  does not act horrible, right before some thing happens that gets her attacked on her end. He get others to help and banichi managed to keep him from getting shot. One of tabinis guards baighi is dead and Hanks had been kidnapped great, right when they were not assholes for two seconds.they are now trying to figure out who could have done this.  Grigiji . Oh boy is lady damiri pissed at the damages and the shit going down, also tabini having to calm down his wife was amazing. He suspected some things were bad.

Chapter 19

Bren gets a talk with Jase and practicing the language. After talking about Jase tabini asked a bit about him. Banichi talks with him about who could have caused the kidnapping and what is so risky about bren trying to help with with a gun. In the last chapter. Holy shit it sounds like banichi rejected him in a romantic advances thing. They also took hanks computer. He has to go to taiben to fetch Jase. 

Chapter 20 

The plane is landing. Bren is with banichi and there is a chance that saidin might have something to do with everything. Jago catches up with them with them and gets info dumped about the history of the land. Tabini might have sent them there to go after hanks and Jason. He may have been betrayed by hanks also fuck the heritage party.

Chapter 21 

He is at the mansion where it looks like the stuff from the first book made it there. Bren decided to play darts with banichi before banichi tells him he should rest. He bonds over with tabnini over relatives. He also offers bren to bring his relatives over to the main land to protect him from everything, he asks tabini to let him think. Jago and him make up from the weirdness. They realize the rebels had hanks and probably where near by.

Chapter 22

They go into the storm shelter that hanks might be in. Holy hell the shoot outs are a ton here. Great now there's a fire and like fifteen mecheiti riders that belong to ilisidi with her riders, cenedi, Babsidi , geigi and they got a pissed of hanks. Sidi was behind the attack and tabini got into a argument with his grandmother after she was made he made her leave for her own safety. They see the thing Jase is in and heads towards it.

Chapter 23

It ends with bren meeting with the two humans that were in the shuttle for some reason and hanks being a batch in the back round.

*I saw Yolanda in this book and she sounds important.

[tsuraiwrites]

Fic: Until the Morning Comes (2/?)

Chapter 1

The Asgardians’ entry to Earth is a shitshow from start to finish. 

When reports come in of an energy signature matching the Tesseract's appearing in a remote field in Norway, the Avengers set out immediately to investigate. The urge to panic is only barely suppressed as the team assembles; no one wants another alien invasion. 

They contact their preliminary Council and Norway’s own Council to secure the mission parameters and permission to enter the country. With the accompaniment of the team of enhanced Scandinavia authorities collectively manage to scramble, they descend onto a field filled with the wreckage of a ship obviously not from Earth. 

“We come with both a warning and a plea for sanctuary,” Thor announces, his face and armor crusted with blood, a patch over his empty eye. The supposed god is obviously limping, Mjolnir missing from his belt. “Asgard has fallen, our people slaughtered, and a great enemy haunts our steps. We only managed to escape the Mad Titan’s grasp with the Tesseract, but it extracted a great price.” He pauses, sweeping his eye over the entire contingent sent to confront the people disembarking the remnants of a space cruiser behind him. His gaze, of course, lands on the shiny red and gold exterior of a familiar suit of armor first, and Thor swallows before he directs his next words at Iron Man especially. 

“My brother is dying. Will you help me save him?”

-

“You sure this is a good idea, Tones?” 

It’s eight a.m. and Tony hasn’t gotten a wink of sleep in at least a day. Jim can read it in the dark smudges under the man's eyes and he has to bite back an expression of concern that will do no good, not with the mood Tony’s in.

“Nope, not sure at all!” Tony chirps, smile a little too wide. “Come on, platypus, the guy needed help.”

“That doesn’t mean you need to be the one to help him. You could let the Council take it from here-” Jim starts, but Tony shakes his head before he’s halfway through. 

“You know I can’t do that. With the way the Council’s getting antsy, they might just shove him back on Carol’s team to shut Steve up and maintain ‘team harmony’.” 

With the warning from the Asgardians and the weight of Thanos coming closer every day hanging over them, everyone is feeling the pressure to present a united front, if only to keep the American public from panicking. Other parts of the world are both more and less interested in the Avengers these days as numerous countries scramble to assemble and train their own teams of enhanced to fight the Titan’s army, as well as coordinate planetary defenses. None of that means the United States can afford to show weakness right now. 

Jim sighs, sinking down onto the penthouse couch, his newest set of leg bracers silent as they adjust to his shifting posture.

“Point. But you don’t have to take it all on yourself—at least let me handle the call to the Council and get the paperwork started,” he cajoles. Jim shouldn’t have to convince him—as co-leader of the Avengers Jim should be the first one called in cases like this, even if Tony submitted the official complaint. “Your board meeting will probably run long, anyway.”

“Don’t get me started, I’m already getting raked over the coals for not coming up with new defense systems that aren’t just lasers and more missiles. Never going to complain about less paperwork,” Tony mutters into his coffee mug. 

It’s nearly empty, and based on prior experience he’ll soon use it as an excuse to get up and flee this conversation for a bit, if only to refill it in the kitchen.

When Tony glances up, Jim just raises his eyebrows, ignoring the familiar distraction Tony’s set up like a shining target. If they start in again on the difference between weapons, defenses, and how far Tony’s oath to stop weapons manufacturing actually goes, they’ll both miss their meetings. 

“I noticed you gave him the floor under yours,” Jim says leadingly. 

The floor that was supposed to be Steve’s, though none of the Avengers besides Tony had ever resided in the Tower. Jim can let himself be bitter about that—if only because he hadn’t seen the full impact that rejection had had on Tony at the time. He has the excuse of the Force keeping him busy, often overseas, but in truth it was like the damn palladium poisoning again; something breaking Tony down from the inside while Jim remained oblivious until it was too late.

“It was empty,” Tony shrugs, breaking off Jim’s train of thought.

“Happy says you went and picked him up yourself,” Jim replies, mild.

“You going somewhere with this?” Tony finally snaps, straightening. “Yeah, I went and got him. I wasn’t going to send a driver alone to pick up the damn Winter Soldier, give me a little more credit.” Jim doesn’t so much as blink, taking a sip from his own half-full mug. A long moment of savoring Tony’s very expensive coffee ensues before he concludes: “You really have forgiven him.” 

Tony deflates, all tension from his previous defensive posture gone. 

“...Yeah, I have.” The words sound wrenched out of him; Jim knows that’s all the honesty he’s going to get from his friend today. 

Jim wonders when the forgiveness happened. Was it before or after Barnes apologized? He hopes it was after, maybe as Tony getting some form of closure, but knowing his best friend it’s just as likely that Barnes had been forgiven before the rogues even returned. Not like he can bust Tony down for being forgiving—their own arguments stand testament to that—but Tony doesn't seem to know healthy limits, despite his and Pepper’s best efforts. 

“Okay then. I’m willing to take him on the team, assuming he doesn’t have any… entitlement issues.” 

It’s a nice way to put the general unwillingness to bend the rogues display behind closed doors, away from paying lip service to the press about a “united front”. Unlike the rest of the rogue Avengers, Barnes has never been the subject of Carol’s late night calls to vent. Myriad issues can crop up with accepting back a team of rebellious people that still believe their reasons for fighting trump the decree of over a hundred countries’ governments—and they do crop up.

Like fucking dandelions.

“There’s also the matter of the Winter Soldier,” Jim points out.

Tony sighs, fiddling with his cup.

“His therapy team will need to clear him after the incident.”

That makes sense, and would also give them a buffer of time to introduce him to the team and gauge where everyone stood with the super soldier. Jim knows Peter will look to Tony for cues, but the others might take a little more convincing—he’ll have to call a team meeting soon to brief them on the new situation. 

Tony clicks his tongue, snapping Jim’s focus back to him. He wiggles his empty mug demonstratively. 

“Top up?”

“I’m good,” Jim answers, gaze following Tony as he practically books it to the kitchen. If he’s honest, he’s surprised he could pin Tony down for as long as he did. The rogue Avengers come up in conversation—they can hardly be avoided—but Tony’s been particularly squirrelly about anything to do with Barnes. Until this morning, Jim had been sure that Barnes was still on his list of people to avoid. 

The misconception is understandable. Jim couldn’t imagine ever being able to look someone who killed his mother in the eye without flying off the handle. The fact that Tony had been able to accept an apology was a miracle in itself. To offer Barnes a floor in the Tower instead of one of his other New York properties, let alone the floor below Tony’s, was something Jim wouldn’t have considered a possibility up to the moment it actually happened. 

Part of him worries that this is Tony falling into those old patterns where he’d give time and money to SHIELD and his teammates, only to receive dust and broken promises in return. 

If it looks like Barnes thinks he’s going to be the next in that parade, he better have another thought coming. Jim certainly isn’t going to put up with it, either as a team leader or as Tony’s friend.   

He sighs, takes another long pull of coffee, and nearly spills it on his lap when the phone in his pocket starts blasting “Barbie Girl” and vibrating violently.

“Damn it! Tones, did you mess with my ringtone again?”

Only laughter meets his shout. He huffs, glancing at the smiling face and head of bright blonde hair on the caller ID. 

"Morning, Carol," he says as he picks up, hoping this is about what he thinks it is, instead of some fresh hell.

“Jim,” she says, sounding unhappy, and though he already has some idea of the situation he feels his spine straightening anyway. “Bucky is gone. FRIDAY can’t give me a clear answer on what happened and Steve won’t, and now there’s an emergency Council meeting? What the hell is going on?” She sounds stressed, and Jim grimaces in sympathy. 

“Rogers didn’t own up?” he asks, but of course not, why would he? God forbid the man be held accountable- he cuts off the thought—unproductive as it is—and continues before she can reply: “Barnes just found out Maximoff was HYDRA.”

A hiss from the other end of the line.

“Shit, that’s–”

“A huge fucking oversight,” Jim agrees—an oversight he’s probably already got paperwork on his desk to correct. He has no doubt the whole roster is going to be cross examined to avoid another disaster like this.

“And you know this when I don’t, because?” Carol demands. And that’s an oversight too—Jim should have been informed and called her the instant Barnes asked to be picked up, but instead Tony waited until the last minute to inform Jim and the Council both.

They’d already had words about that.

“He’s here.” 

He hears her pause, then a gusty sigh of relief. 

“Glad to know I won’t have to report him AWOL. Is he okay?”

Despite himself, Jim smiles, glad the stress of leading the rogues hasn’t worn her compassion to shreds the way it no doubt would Jim’s.

“I haven’t seen him yet, but Tony gave him a suite to crash in. Barnes was lucid enough to call him.”

Carol doesn’t miss a beat. 

“He called Tony after a Soldier episode? That’s…” she trails off, both of them taking in the implications—that Barnes had fled the compound was understandable, considering Maximoff’s presence there, but fact that the man’s first call hadn’t been directed to Carol showed a gap in protocol and team dynamics that becomes more obvious the longer he thinks about it. 

Never mind that the meltdown happened at all, when there had only been one other incident early upon the rogues returned from Wakanda—and none since.

Damn, but Jim is realizing how lucky they are that this didn’t come out during a mission. Adding a Soldier episode to an already high-stress situation is not anyone’s idea of a good time, and the last thing the world needs is to see one Avenger losing it against another in front of inevitable cameras. They’re exceptionally lucky the situation resolved the way it did, and Jim isn’t sure they can actually afford another slip-up of this magnitude if something does get out. 

He may have to ground Barnes for a few months, at this rate. Just to be safe, just to get all the wrinkles this is sure to cause ironed out. Speaking of which…

“Yeah,” Jim agrees. “Depending on psych’s eval, it may be a while before he can go back on the field, but Barnes doesn’t want to work with Maximoff anymore.” “Fuck, Steve is going to throw an unholy fit. I already had to talk him down from taking off after him. If he finds out Bucky is leaving the Avengers-”

“Not the Avengers, just the team with Maximoff on it.”

She pauses, then:

“Please tell me he wants to transfer to the San Francisco base.”

“I’m afraid not.”

“That’s worse. You realize that’ll be worse.” 

Jim grunts, the depth of his displeasure obvious when Carol sighs in response and mutters:

“I’ll do damage control as best I can for now, but Natasha is going to catch wind of the meeting sooner or later.” And she’ll tell Steve, no matter what Carol has to say about it or how secure those meetings are supposed to be. 

“We’ll deal with it when it becomes an issue.” Jim has no doubt that it will become one and, as head of the eastern Avengers branch, he’ll be on the front line to deal with it.

Movement out of the corner of his eye makes Jim look up at where Tony leans in the doorway. When they make eye contact Tony wiggles his eyebrows suggestively even as he takes a long pull from his fresh coffee. 

Jim sighs. 

“How’s the rest of the team?” he asks because he has to, and watches Tony’s playful expression drop—quick as a dead suit. It’s a testament to how far he’s come that Jim doesn’t even wince at the thought.

“Agitated. I’ll have to let them know something soon or Sam will stop helping me pin Steve down long enough to think rationally.” Jim grimaces.  

“Let’s hope this meeting starts the wheels turning. Remind them, if you need to, that their keycards only give them access to the Tower in case of emergencies.” 

“I’m sure that’ll go over great,” Carol replies, sarcasm obvious. “Anyway-” she starts to say, but pauses. “Someone’s knocking on my door, so I’ll have to sign off. I’ll see you at the meeting.”

Jim says his goodbyes and takes another sip of his coffee. He grimaces down at it in betrayal a second later, the liquid now too cool to be appetizing.

When he looks up again, Tony is already gone.

[fific7]

Evil Twins - Part 1

Billy Russo & Aleksander Morozova x Reader

Summary: When two worlds which have already collided then collide with yours - that’s an explosive situation.

A/N: This does not follow canon, it’s mainly a mix of fluff and angst with quite a lot of lemon zest 🍋 My Fantasy Punisher/Shadow and Bone crossover AU.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content including oral and unprotected* sex between consenting adults. Some drinking & swearing.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(My photo edit)

New York City

Billy Russo awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright in bed and grabbing for his Glock. What the hell? Thunder was rumbling loudly overhead and he sighed, putting the gun back under his pillow and laying his head back down. It was probably the bright flash of the lightning followed by the beginning of the thunderclap that had awakened him.

He was just closing his eyes again when he spotted something, only vaguely visible in the dim light from outside, in the corner of his room. It was…. swirling?

Grabbing his gun again, he sat up and pointed the Glock at the corner. It was getting bigger. “You’ve got two seconds to show yourself before I blow your fucking head off,” he announced, calmly.

He squinted a bit to get a better look but it didn’t make much difference. What the fuck was it?! Smoke? He decided he had no choice and leant over, switching on the wall-mounted bedside light.

The… smoke cloud?… was still increasing, becoming bigger and blacker with every second. Then he saw the vaguest silhouette of a tall figure within it, moving towards him. He leapt out of bed, on the far side of it so it was between him and whatever the fuck this was.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Aleksander Morozova - or General Kirigan, the Darkling, the Black Heretic, the Starless Saint, whichever of his many names he decided to call himself at any given point in time - could see a tall figure brandishing some kind of strange gun at him as he began to emerge from the swirling shadows.

Following certain unfortunate incidents - including a huge and furious argument with his darling mother - he’d decided it would be politic to get out of Ravka for a while, much as he didn’t really want to. But this wasn’t where he should’ve ended up. What was this place?

He emerged completely from the shadows and immediately felt something bounce off his kefta. He heard a ‘ding’ and looked down at the wooden floor at his feet. A bullet.

Looking quickly back up, he saw that the man opposite him was glaring at him, eyes wide and unbelieving, gun still pointing at him. He also realised that looking at this man was like looking in a mirror.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy was dumbfounded. He’d just shot the fucker! And the bullet had bounced off him. Fuck. He threw the gun down onto the bed and slid his hand under his other pillow, pulling out his Ka-Bar. No way he’d get past that.

He took a moment to have a good look at the dude opposite him.

Dressed in riding boots and some kinda long black tunic thing, with a black fur-collared full-length cape over it. What a freak! Was he a goth or something? But then he realised something even freakier…. this guy looked exactly like him.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

The two of them were still contemplating each other, when finally Billy spoke. “Who are you? And what are you?”

Aleksander laughed. “Usually it’s me asking those questions.” Billy huffed, “You’re in my fuckin’ apartment, so just answer them!” He saw the guy draw himself up, and he said, “I am Aleksander Morozova, also known as General Kirigan, commander of the Second Army of the Grisha.”

“Means fuck all to me,” grunted Billy. “One name not enough for you? And why do you look like me? Are you some kinda shapeshifter or somethin’?”

“I have many names because I am centuries old. And I don’t know what a… shapeshifter?…is,” said the other, “…but I am the Shadow Summoner. And who are you? Where is this?” he waved a hand round at the apartment.

Billy scoffed, “Centuries old?!! Oh fuck off. You’re the same age as me by the looks of ya! I’m Billy Russo, ex-US Marine Lieutenant and now CEO of Anvil. That’s a security company, mainly staffed by ex-military vets. And this….” he also waved his hand around, “…is my penthouse apartment in New York City.”

Aleksander shook his head, “I have never heard of that place.”

Billy eye-rolled, “How can you not have heard of New York?!” he asked, incredulously. “And what the fuck is a Shadow Summoner?”

“It’s becoming obvious we are from two different worlds. I seem to have been diverted from my intended course, I don’t know why,” shrugged Aleksander. “Well maybe it’s time you took off to wherever it is you were headed for in the first place,” said Billy.

“It seems that I have been brought here for some specific reason,” replied Aleksander, “and it also seems I cannot leave for the moment, I have already tried.” He waved both hands around, firstly extending and then curling up his fingers, watching them closely as he did but it was clear that nothing at all was happening. “You see? Nothing. It is worrying to me. My shadows are no longer obeying my commands at present.”

Billy sighed and perched on the edge of his bed, “Great! Just fuckin’ great! This is just…! So when can you leave?” The other man spread out his arms, “I have no idea.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Devon, UK

Way across the Atlantic, you were already hard at work in your little bookstore in Appledore, Devon. You had a snug apartment above the store and had filled it with lots of your favourite things. It was a cute little coastal town and you loved living there. The community was small and friendly especially in the winter months, only increasing in summer with all the tourists who came to stay. As long as you made a decent living during the holiday season - which you normally did - then winter was a much calmer, chilled time of year.

You added a final book to the new display in the centre of your store and stepped back to take in how it was looking. Yeah, not bad if you did say so yourself. It was comprised of a fantasy trilogy for young adults about some ancient guy who could summon up shadows, and was a bit of a villain from what you could tell from the story synopsis on the book covers.

Not your cup of tea, to be honest. Generally speaking, all types of action stories were more your thing - something with a bit of ‘va-va-voom’. In fact, you were looking forward to tonight when you’d decided you were going to sit down with a nice tub of ice cream and rewatch one of your favourite series. The one with a relentless avenging ex-Marine whose family had been killed and his psycho ex-Marines buddy. Who happened to be rather hot to your mind.

You sighed a little, heading back behind the counter. That was the only thing about Appledore. It was a lovely place, but there was a distinct lack of hot guys.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

New York City

Billy and Aleksander were sitting on separate sofas in Billy’s living area, eyeing each other warily. Aleksander had been trying to explain to Billy all about his world, the Grisha, the Fold, volcras, Ravka, the Sun Summoner, sand skiffs - as much as he could.

It had blown Billy’s mind, to be honest. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. In turn, he’d explained all about his military career and the shitshow which had eventually developed once he’d come back to New York. Aleksander looked as equally confused as Billy.

Billy sighed, “I mean, what the hell are you gonna do? You don’t belong here. I need to go to work in a couple of hours. I’m not leaving you here so I’d need to take you to Anvil with me, and you sure as hell can’t go out looking like that.”

Aleksander looked down at his kefta which he’d unbuttoned. His cape was draped over the back of the sofa. “What is wrong with the way I look?” he huffed. “S’pose I could always say you were going to a Comic Con,” muttered Billy. “A what?” “A Comic Con. it’s where fans of fantasy comics go to have fun. They dress up as their favourite characters sometimes. I could always say it was cosplay.”

Aleksander shook his head, “I still don’t understand what you’re talking about. Are you saying I’d look out of place in my uniform? All the Grisha wear these,” he pointed at his kefta. “Not what we wear here,” said Billy, “…and I still don’t get why you look so much like me.”

“I have no idea!” said Aleksander, through gritted teeth, “I told you that already!” “Alright, alright! Calm down.” “I AM CALM!!!” roared the other man.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

New York City

Slightly later that morning, Billy was showered, suited and booted and ready for work. He’d persuaded his uninvited visitor to put on a borrowed leather jacket of Billy’s over his kefta as Aleksander refused to take it off. He’d also made him put on a pair of black trainers, which he’d done very reluctantly. These two items had instantly transformed the freaky-looking guy into someone at least a little more acceptable to your average New Yorker.

Aleksander was wriggling around in the jacket, “It’s not very comfortable.” Billy heaved yet another large sigh - he felt like this was all he’d been doing this morning - “Look, just wear it! You’ll get used to it.” He noticed the other guy sniffing at the collar of the jacket, then his eyes lifted to Billy’s, “You wear perfume?!” “Men’s cologne,” snapped Billy, “or aftershave, as it’s also known because - guess what! - you use it after you’ve shaved!”

His fingers stroking his chin, Aleksander nodded, “Okay, that I understand. We do not use this perfume in Ravka.” “Cologne!” yelled Billy. “Fine, cologne then. Why don’t you like it when I call it perfume? That’s what it is, after all.” “Women wear perfume. Men wear cologne. Okay? Now c’mon, I’m gonna be late.”

Billy strode over to his front door and tried to open it. The handle wouldn’t budge. He shook it, rattled it, pulled the door handle back and forward, exerting more and more strength but nothing worked. He stood back from the door. “It won’t open,” he said, rather unnecessarily. He looked at Aleksander, “Is this you? Or something to do with you?” “No!” he protested, “I have nothing to do with this.”

A somewhat raspy female voice spoke from behind them, “No, but I do.”

The two men swung round, both gaping as they saw that there were what could only be described as rippling waves distorting the whole interior of Billy’s flat. The light had also diminished quite drastically and then they both saw a woman’s head and shoulders start to become defined and then fully visible in amongst the ripples. She seemed to float there at head height but she obviously wasn’t physically present.

“Mother!” exclaimed Aleksander.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Devon, UK

You snuggled down amongst the soft cushions on your sofa, tub of ice cream and spoon in hand and scrolled to the series you were looking for. It was quite gory in places but you loved it - except for the bit right at the end where the hot dude got killed. That made you sad although you couldn’t deny he definitely had psychopathic tendencies.

As you were looking for the one you wanted to watch, another series caught your eye in the ‘Suggested for You’ section. Hey, it must be based on that trilogy of books you had in the store right now. Maybe you’d give it a try after you’d finished your current one.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

New York City

“Mother?” echoed Billy, “….what’s going on here?!”

The woman’s head swivelled towards him then back to Aleksander. “My two boys, together again. How sweet.”

“What!?” said the two men in tandem. She gave a bitter laugh, “How I managed to produce two such problematic children, I’ll never know.” “What are you talking about, Baghra?” ground out Aleksander. Billy was just standing there, dumbfounded and looking between the two of them when suddenly her glare focussed in on him.

“Maxim.” Billy returned her stare, “I’m Billy!” he corrected her. She shook her head, “You will forever be Maxim to me. And as I’m your mother, do not argue with me. Now…. no doubt Aleksander has been making a great fuss about how he’s many centuries old, has he?” “He did mention it,” said Billy, begrudgingly. She nodded, “I thought he might have. Listen to me, both of you. You are twins, so obviously you were born within minutes of each other. To me.” The two men exchanged glances, before looking back at her. “It became obvious to me that Aleksander - from a relatively early age - was going to cause himself and everyone around him nothing but trouble and strife, so I took a radical step.” “What did you do, Baghra?” questioned Aleksander.

“If you’d have patience, I’m trying to tell you!” she snapped, before continuing, “I got one of the few Heartrenders in existence at that time to take Maxim out of Ravka to a secret location. There, he placed him in long-term suspended animation. When you…” she pointed an accusatory finger at Aleksander, “….started all that nonsense with the Sun Summoner and hunting for the stag, I travelled with another Heartrender to where Maxim was, and brought him out of his enforced hibernation. I had to protect him as there was no guarantee you’d survive, Aleksander.” She stared at his scowling face and carried on speaking.

“He had no memories remaining of his past life and so I took him into the forest, there is a portal there which only I know of. There used to be more knew about it but I am the only one left now. Other universes can be reached through it. And I decided to send Maxim to another one. This one. It was only three months ago in Ravkan time, but in this universe more than thirty years have passed.”

“Wait… what?!” Billy was pissed. “You… you just threw me into some portal and walked away? Not knowing where I would end up?” “I had to save one of my sons!” she spat out, “…the other one had lost his mind and was on a collision course with disaster!” Billy put his head in his hands, before looking up again and raging at her, “I was abandoned for a second time by the woman I thought was my mother in this universe! She was a drug user, a total mess! I was placed in an orphanage… it was terrible!” He saw a remorseful look pass over her face for a split second, “I am sorry, Maxim! But I had no choice. Then I had to step in again when he…” pointing again at Aleksander, “….was nearly killed by volcras. I managed to get him to the portal before he fully regained consciousness. He thinks it was his idea to leave Ravka after we had an argument, but I managed to plant that idea in his mind before I pushed him into the portal.”

Billy and Aleksander both snorted in unison, then glanced at each other again. Billy looked back at her, “You’re sorry? That doesn’t quite cover it. I went to war! And now I’m in a very bad situation due to things which went down in Afghanistan during that war.” Aleksander chipped in, “And how dare you make a decision like sending me to another universe without consulting me first?”

The sigh Baghra gave echoed round the apartment. “You are a pair of ungrateful whelps! And now it sounds like I have to get you of trouble too!” She pointed at Billy this time. “I firstly had to find some very old documents about it, but I managed to find out how to enter the limbo section of the portal, which this is, because I wished to speak to both of you before I sent you on your next journey.” She lifted her hands and swirled them around in a kind of ritualistic fashion, “Be on your way to the next universe!” she chanted, and suddenly the rippling got even more pronounced.

Billy and Aleksander began feeling overwhelmingly dizzy, feeling as if they were falling but in fact realised they seemed to be rushing through time and space.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Devon, UK

It was Saturday tomorrow so because you could sleep in a bit as you opened later, you finished the first series (but not the second one - it always upset you) of the one you’d originally been watching, and had then moved on to the one based on the trilogy.

You peered more closely at your TV screen - yeah! you were right, the hot bad guy looked so similar to the hot bad dude in the other series they could be twins! Was it the same actor? You’d need to check on the credits but it must be, surely.

No reflection on the series you were watching, but having finished your ice cream you dozed off during episode 6.

You woke up - you had no idea how much later - and as you sat up slightly, realised that you were feeling very strange. Standing up from the sofa, you were so dizzy that you collapsed back down onto it. You tried not to panic, but you’d no clue as to why you felt so unwell all of a sudden.

Then you noticed that your apartment appeared to be rippling. Rippling??!! What the…. The rippling waves began to die down a little and you were suddenly aware of two looming figures standing over you. Their outlines and features slowly became more defined, more solid, and eventually you realised you were looking up at both the hot bad dudes from the TV.

Of course you were.

Okay, your reeling mind said to you, maybe the celestial Powers That Be had been listening when you were complaining about the lack of hot guys in your town.

They were both looking down at you, clear interest in their eyes. Maybe because you were wearing silky shorts with matching tank T. Your sleepwear didn’t leave too much to the imagination.

So you stared at them, and they stared right back at you, although again you were acutely aware of two sets of very dark eyes roaming all over your body.

You wondered if someone had spiked your ice cream.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

[docholligay]

Holy shit Doc, that sounds like it was intense as hell

Oh, it was certainly one of the more interesting moments in my life, that's for sure.

We were, in the classic stupidity and bravery that accompanies youth, drunkenly floating the Yellowstone River, which you may note as one of the most dangerous rivers in the country, and it was end of June so the river was very high with a powerful undertow, but that didn't matter to us. We were all native Montanans, our little 'farm fag' group, who were strong swimmers and had spent our lives fucking around rivers. That's what we call hubris.

So there were two rafts going downstream, one in front that a group was on, and the one behind that I was on. We were all at least a little bit in the tank, and the first group pulled up to the raft put in, but the idiots weren't moving fast enough and even racking back on the paddles, we were going to go right past the put in. Get up to it, Cole in front of me jumps out of the raft and tries to pull toward the put in, everyone's bailing out to where the trucks ready to take us back, and it's an utter shitshow. The raft is getting pulled downstream, Cole's losing it, none of us are wearing life jackets because why the fuck would we ever do that, and it is then that I have a brilliant idea.

I'm not a stupid person, by and large I would say, but stupidity certainly does have a visitation on me now and again. I am a brave person, and in many ways I'm proud of that but I'm brave because I'm impulsive as hell and my ADHD ass is constantly writing checks my ass can't cash. Such as it is in this moment. I'm still in the fucking raft, and I think, "This is a fucking 800 dollar piece of equipment or so, and I'm not gonna let it be lost to raw incompetence."

So in my infinite wisdom, not taking even one second to think through what might happen if my plan does not come to its full and glorious fruition, I throw out of the back of the raft and start to push in it.

"The FUCK you doing?" I hear from the bank, as someone in our party--I think it was Andi--shows a great deal more forethought than I have .

It is at this precise moment that Cole slips on the bank, and, falling on his ass, lets go of the raft.

I am now floating down the Yellowstone river at a reasonably rapid pace, holding onto the side of a raft. Even in this moment, my thought is, "I can save the raft." I can hear my party running and yelling alongside the river, but they're losing me. I spring hard into the raft, but my feet don't touch the bottom of the river near at all, and as we get pulled into one of those very deep and deceivingly calm parts of the river, I get pulled under the raft by an undertow.

The top of the water is slow, but the undertow is fast, and I get pulled immediately broadside into a rock, which led to a bruise across my ribs for the next two weeks, though nothing broke, as it turned out. I pulled up as hard as I could, letting out a little air so I could follow the bubbles up, only to, as I can see the sun streaming through the surface, get pulled again, this time right to the bank, under a jam of logs near the side.

I'm getting a little panicky now. I go to move forward through the water, but my leg is caught. WELP, this is it, I think, finally happened. Was bound to one day. My hair's floating around my face, the water green and cloudy in front of my open eyes, and for a moment I imagine myself the Mermaid of the Yellowstone, and won't I pull someone else to their death. Or will I rescue the near drowned? It's hard to say for certain, I suppose I can always decide later. In the moment I realize I'm going to die, there are equal parts calm and fear.

Then comes fury.

No. Are you out of your fuckin mind? You gonna give up without a fight? No, I've never turned down a fight in my entire life, to this point, and so I think for a second, close my eyes and resolve myself. I climb back down my body to where my ankle is caught, and as I can feel the need to breathe stabbing through my lungs, I bear down and shove my ankle through the hole, leaving behind my shoe.

I pop up to the surface like a dandelion out of the snow and the air has never tasted so sweet. I grab weakly to the bank, and get hauled up, flopped onto the rocks like a trout.

"I thought you wasn't coming back up" Cole looks like he's haunting the Yellowstone himself.

I roll over and damn near throw up, but manage to keep it in. "I want clothes. I don't care whose."

Someone says something in the positive.

"And I want a shot. A double. Now."

The whiskey's hot in my throat but the rest of me is cold. It's snowmelt. You look at the river and it doesn't occur to you how easy it is to die in it, until you make one stupid choice in a place that doesn't really allow for second chances.

But it didn't get me that day

[hansolmates]

the proposal (m)

banner done by the ammmahhzzing @eerieedits​

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“For fuck’s sake—”

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

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

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

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

“Done and done.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’ve been seeing red for days. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you get Taemin’s second draft?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Trouble in paradise?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh… hot?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Favorite movie?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hard.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s part of the family, isn’t he?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Which means?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kiss kiss kiss!” 

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

“Kiss him before I do!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please don’t say it.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it ‘Rotten Love’?” 

“That’s the one.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“What movie?” 

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

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

“Jung Hoseok!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Always.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Already out the door, bossman.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Owie, ow, ow—fuck you! Ow!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you say something?” 

“I said, I’m sorry.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You were worried?” 

“Shut up.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But still.” 

“Fine, you wanna make it up to me?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You sure about that, baby girl?” 

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

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

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

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

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

He flops on the bed and you huff in reply, quickly throwing on your attire inside your closet while he watches a YouTube video. You check your phone, and at 8:59 a knock is at your door. Jungkook doesn’t bother to get up to answer, and you open the door to see a sleepy Yoongi with a paper cup in his hand. 

“An English breakfast with two sugars and a dash of milk, baby girl.” 

You mask your wince at the pet name. It hadn’t bothered you when you were young, but its starting to feel coddling now that Jungkook is making you hyper-aware of the attention. “Perfect,” you faux-beam, the hot beverage warm your fingers. 

“I’ll just warm up the car and—”

“Babeeeeee,”  the deepest, sexiest voice echoes from your bed and out in the hallway. He sounds absolutely tempting, and needy. You freeze at the way your boss can so easily pretend he’s exhausted and wanting you, “come back to bedddddd. I’m not done with you yet.” 

Yoongi’s ears are red, “Aaand, I’ll let you finish whatever business you have.” 

The older man bolts out of there, and you snap your head back to look at an innocent Jungkook. He tilts his head at your bout of anger. 

“You know, I have half a mind to fling this tea down your shirt.” 

“What?” he looks at you like a child caught with a hand in the cookie jar. “He can’t be the only one who can call you baby.” 

Honestly, you didn’t mean to lash out on Jungkook like that. You did need to put up a face as you were each other's significant others, but it doesn’t mean you have to be together all the time. To top it all off you’ve been feeling weird as of late, and you can only attribute these terrible feelings to a certain brunet who’s been sleeping in your bed. 

But you pin these feelings for another time, because you need to enjoy what little quality time you have with your brother. 

“Hey, whaddya think of this one?” It's just you and Namjoon picking the tree, and Yoongi’s sitting in the cabin keeping warm. He said to call him once you’ve decided, since it is your house. 

“Hm, it’s fine.” you shrug, inhaling the pine. “Maybe a little too tall.” 

Namjoon nods, and you follow him to the next row of greenery. He’s been pensive this whole time, and you have a feeling he’s hiding something. Surrounded by pine and the fresh winter air he says, “Hey, I just wanna say sorry.” 

“Why, did you like that tree over there? I don’t mind it, we can go back!” 

“What, no? I’m sorry for being weird around Jungkook.” 

“Huh?” sure, you noticed the weird language and terseness he gave Jungkook initially, but you chalked it out as big brother issues. 

You two continue to walk around the forest aimlessly, not really tree hunting. 

“I was just upset that the engagement was so sudden,” Namjoon starts, and you feel the guilt start to set camp in your stomach. “And I don’t know, at first he just didn’t seem like your type? I always thought you wanted to date someone gentle, someone you could hold and depend on. He looked so serious, and maybe a little immature.”

“He is a little immature,” you agree softly, digging your boots in the snow, “but I don’t love him any less because of it. We’re growing together.” Shit, why was that so easy for you to say? 

“Figured,” and Namjoon stops to place a hand on your shoulder, “I see the way he looks at you, and you can’t fake love like that.” 

Namjoon’s admonition is so convincing that you almost convince yourself that it is something. 

Something is bothering Jungkook, and he doesn’t know why. 

It’s not the billions of charges he made on his credit card for new ornaments, because it simultaneously inflated his ego and impressed your mom. 

It’s not the way Jimin hangs onto his every word and doesn’t let up, because it is refreshing to have your cousin find a genuine interest in him. 

Jungkook, Jimin and your mom have been taking laps around the mall for the past hour. They’ve floated around here and there, picking out whatever catches their eye for the tree. 

Jimin’s in the middle of explaining the Jamba Juice story when a glimmering window display catches his eye. 

“Hun, have you not bought her a present yet?” your mom says over his shoulder. 

“No,” he exhales, embarrassed that he just admitted he didn’t think of getting you anything in front of your mom. “She doesn’t ask for anything, really.” Besides her book published, a raise, and a potential promotion as editor, but they didn’t need to know that much. 

“Good thing you’re with the right people!” Jimin cheers, ushering him into the jewelry store. 

Funny enough, he knows exactly what to get you. Once he points it out, Jimin and your mom “ooh” and “aah” respectively, agreeing that what he chose was perfect. If you had asked Jungkook a week ago what kind of jewlery you like, he’d give you a dumb look and say “something shiny.” But that’s what’s bothering him. He just walked right into the store, saw what was right, and everything just clicked. 

Jungkook pins that thought for later, because once their shopping is done they’re back at your villa, arranging the ornaments and detangling the lights that have been holed up in the closet for eleven months. 

Jimin and he are sitting on the living room floor, stabbing thread through popcorn. He really only saw this craft in the movies, and the small part of him is amazed that you and your family go through the hard work to make your holidays so warm. 

Your mom appears from her bedroom, clutching something in her hand. She sits in front of Jungkook, a huge smile on her face. 

“Before you say anything,” and it strikes him how similar you are to your mother. There’s that tone he always receives before he gets new news, or the way you’re eager to share something that will make him happy. “I don’t want you to think this is a luxurious gift or anything. But I realized that you don’t have a wedding band so I went through my old cases and found this.” 

She opens her palm slowly, revealing a simple black band. 

Jungkook’s lips part to form words, but his vocal cords betray him. At first glance, this ring could’ve been mistaken for one of Jimin’s plentiful rings adorning his fingers. Upon closer inspection however, Jungkook notes that this band is thinner and more worn. The metal looks strong and old, the slight scratches and faded color revealing that it was a well-loved piece of jewelry. 

Your mom is offering Jungkook a wedding band. 

“If you don’t like it, that’s okay!” your mom says quickly, nerves radiating because of Jungkook’s silence. “It was my grandfather’s. Don’t feel as if you have to accept it. It’s not a wedding band persay, but I think it matches and it looks about your size and we didn’t get you a Christmas gift so—”

“It’s perfect.” Jungkook tells her firmly, sending him a tight-lipped smile. “Thank you, I guess we kind of rushed the engagement so I didn’t think of getting a band of my own.” 

Your mother is grateful, dropping the ring in Jungkook’s awaiting palm. “I think my daughter should be the one who puts it on you, don’t you think?” 

“Right,” he echoes, and he just stares at the ring in his hand, feeling weird in his chest. He can’t remember the last time someone put this much thought in getting him something this significant. He can’t accept this ring, but he can’t refuse it either. “I could never find something with this much value from a little shop in New York, so thank you.” 

“Oh, and while we’re on the topic of New York,” Jimin puts down his completed popcorn wreath, “y/n said she already put in her off days for Easter, so you should too. It’ll be at my place this year, and I live by an indoor skydiving zone. She mentioned you’re an adrenaline junkie.” 

“She also mentioned that your birthday’s in September.” your mom pops in, “We were thinking we could take Friday off and stop by for the weekend. I’ve always wanted to see Hamilton!” 

Jungkook knows they’re trying to cheer him up. They’re trying to make him feel part of the family, feel wanted. But he can’t remember the last time he’s felt wanted unless it’s for a book deal or a business exchange. It’s been so long since he’s felt this warm, and he didn’t realize how much he yearned for it until he proposed to you.

“Hey man,” Jimin puts an arm around his trembling shoulders, “are you alright?” 

“Fine,” he’s crying, and doing a shit job at hiding the tears. “It’s alright, I just,” he can’t even find the strength to get up and walk away from this. Is it pathetic that he’s breaking down in the comfort of your cousin and mom, starved for affection? “I just, I miss my family. It’s just the four of us, but they’re all the way in Korea and it’s been awhile since I’ve really celebrated anything with them. They visit sometimes but it’s not the same, y’know? And work is so stressful but I’m not in a position to say that. And your family is just so, so nice and it makes me miss them even more. You’re all so lucky to support each other like this.” 

Jimin and your mom sandwich him like an Oreo. It’s almost funny, how two smaller humans are comforting this big human and not the other way around. “Poor baby, it’s your family too.” 

Pathetic. It’s pathetic how much he wishes to have a family like yours, but he can’t have that. 

“Can we please not tell y/n about this?” Jungkook wishes, leaning his head on your mom’s. “She’s going through a lot right now with work and stuff, I’d rather just talk to her about this after the holidays, if that’s okay.” 

“It’s quite alright, sweetheart,” your mom runs a hand through his hair, and his eyes automatically flutter closed, “just remember, your feelings matter too, okay?” 

You and Jungkook slip into bed at the same time, murmuring half-hearted “how was your days” and brief descriptions of your outings. It’s a little awkward considering the morning’s events, but not unbearable. 

“The tree smells really nice,” Jungkook tries, looking up from his phone. 

“Yeah, makes the whole room smell like Christmas.” 

“Yeah.”

“Did you have a good time shopping, find anything good?” 

“Yeah.”

“That’s nice.” 

[11:29] Jimin: hey, you know my room’s right next to yours right? 

[11:29] Jimin: we share a goddamn wall and im NOT hearing shit

[11:29] Jimin: are you putting that baby blanket to good use ;)

[11:30] You: YOU”REE DISGUSTING are we even family!!!!  Can i disown a first cousin?? 

[11:30] Jimin: i’m just sayin.. U said it was fantastic

You throw your phone away, letting it slide off to the mattress and onto the baby blanket. Yes, the baby blanket is unfortunately here to stay. Over the course of three days, the quilt is like a ball in a tennis match between you and your mother. You’ve given up and just kept it on the floor. 

“I have a question,” you say aloud, motioning to your bed partner. 

“Shoot.” 

“Was it true when you said I was the only girl you knew well enough to be your wife?”

“Of course, that’s why we’re here.” 

“I’m just wondering, because I really thought you could pick any girl in the office to be yours.” you stuff your hands under the covers, playing with your ring. “I mean, you’re kinda-sorta handsome. You could’ve picked someone just as pretty and they would have studied your whole life story for you.” 

Jungkook's phone falls in his lap, and he looks at you like you’ve lost a couple brain cells. “Normally, I would eat up the fact that you admitted I was attractive. But do you realize you’re just as beautiful, if not more?” 

What? 

“I know it’s unprofessional, but how professional can we get when we’re married, but you’re the whole package, y/n.” and he says it with such fervor, you can’t formulate a response. “I wouldn’t have wanted anyone else. No one else can take my shit and throw it right back in my face, or debate with me for hours on end about a novel’s direction. Only you can do that.” 

“I’m sorry,” you shake your head, “thanks, you’re right. I’m just clouded, and stressed. And Jimin’s being an ass and it’s really bothering me.” 

His chocolate eyes flicker in the darkness of your bedroom, making note of your phone on the floor. “What’d he say?” 

“It’s stupid, he said that he thinks it’s weird he hasn’t heard us bang all week,” you force a laugh, “it’s my fault though, he wouldn’t get off my back so I gave up and told him the sex was fantastic.” 

“Are you worried he’s unconvinced?” 

“A little, maybe? I don’t know.” you’re wrinkling your bedsheets now, turning the cotton into putty as your sweaty palms wring at the edge. 

“I don’t mind giving him a show.” Jungkook blurts, and you instinctively pull the covers closer to your chest, even though you’re fully clothed. 

“What, like fake moan into the wall?” 

“There are things you can do over the clothes,” he says matter-of-factly, pulling the sheet of his bedside down slightly. “And you just said you’re stressed. I’d be a bad fiancé to not let you relieve some of that tension.” 

Jungkook opens his arms and gestures for you to get on his lap. Your body is hot all over, and you can’t tell if it’s because you’re horrified or aroused. Maybe a little of both. 

“Are you kidding—you’re my boss!” 

“And we’re consenting adults!” he narrows his eyes at you, “don’t say you’ve never thought about it before.”

And the sick, twisted part of you has, a lot. There’s something about a man in a tailored suit and owning up to its power that’s really attractive. Not to mention all those times they’d be traveling for work, stumbling for a quick McDonald's bite at 12AM and he’d be dressed casually in tight black jeans and combat boots. The energy really kept you on your toes. 

“Wow, I really hate late-night talks. All the secrets come out, don’t they?” 

“If it makes you feel better, your ass looks great in pencil skirts,” you turn to him with flared eyes, “what? I’m just trying to let you know I mayhaps find you attractive.” 

“Mayhaps you should stop talking before I regret this.” 

His eyebrows lift and disappear from his bangs, the hair freshly dried and fluffy from his late night shower. He then pats his lap with a little blasé as if to say “hop on”, and you ignore the way how good the seat looks, his boxer briefs doing nothing to hide his unmentionables. 

Trying to fight alongside your last drop of dignity, you take your time. 

“C’mon y/n, don’t make it weird.” 

“It’s been weird, Jeon! Jimin’s next door!” you hiss, backing away slightly, “Give me some time, I can’t just hump my boss!” 

“You’re not humping your boss.” Jungkook has the audacity to grin, the expression looking absolutely sinful in the moonlight. “Think of it as your lover wanting to make you feel good.” 

The bridge between love and hatred is a fine, fine line stemmed by passion. 

Careful, you lift your blankets up and slip out of them, moving to sit up. It’s ridiculous, tiptoeing around your bed to avoid any sudden creaks in the aged wood of your mahogany headboard. 

“We’re out to prove to your family we fuck on the reg,” Jungkook snips, “you can make noise.” 

Within seconds, he’s hauling you on his lap. You squeak in surprise, feeling the thin material of his boxers seep through your thin silk shorts. You wriggle around, monitoring Jungkook’s expression. He does not allude too much, but you take note of the way Jungkook secures you with his hands between the swells of your thighs. 

“I’m not a rollercoaster, stop adjusting like you’re gonna buckle up.” 

Jungkook’s dry humor lightens the mood considerably, and you can’t help but smile timidly at his attempt to make you feel at ease. He lets you take your time, and you never imagined someone so demanding in the office can be so… kind in bed. 

You dip forward to kiss his lips once, twice. He looks needy, but lets you set the pace. You appreciate that. You’re salivating at his willingness to make you feel good, and you whimper as he nibbles on a sensitive spot on your neck. 

You need more. Sensing your urgency when you jerk his chin up, he muffles your sounds with a harsh kiss, taking care to moan deeply into your mouth. The heat is luxurious on this winter night, burgundy kisses exchanged between the sheets like secrets. His tongue slips between your teeth, tasting every inch of you and exploring you like the deepest texts. 

He pulls away slightly, and you’re drowning in his gaze. “Am I still just kinda-sorta handsome now?” he nips at your neck, sucking on a spot between your jaw. 

“N-no,” and you pull him up by the chin, taking in his messy hair and glazed eyes, “you’re fucking sexy,” and you tug your mouth to his once more. 

You don’t even realize that you’re rolling your hips until Jungkook breaks the kiss in favor of grabbing your hips, making sure your core is nestled perfectly between his hardening length. It doesn’t take long for the both of you to get wet, and the silk glides easily between your thighs like butter.

“That’s it, baby girl,” he encourages, one hand reaching up to cup your breast, “use me, make  yourself feel good.” 

“Please, don’t call me that,” you whine against his mouth, trying to keep the mood in, “Babe is fine, but baby girl makes me feel like a little kid and I’m not a little kid.”

“You damn right,” and he lifts his hips to meet yours in a sharp thrust, and you gasp hotly into his mouth. It’s too late to muffle your moans, not when you’re drenched with two pathetic pieces of fabric stopping the both of you. “You’re a gorgeous, intelligent, strong, amazing woman.” 

With every compliment, he does all the work, thrusting with each adjective like he’s blessing poetry into your body. 

“J-Jungkook,” the name is muffled against his shoulder, too fuzzed in ecstasy to be embarrassed by the drool coating his tank top. His hair tickles your shoulder as he nips at your clothed breasts, swirling around your nipple. “I-I, m’gonna come,” 

“You’re almost there huh?” and he slips a hand between you two to find that sweet spot, swirling designs between your shorts. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

And you’re shaking, collapsing into his embrace as he rides out your high. He cradles one hand in your hair as you rub furiously against his other, chasing your pleasure like a starved animal. 

“K-Kook,” you murmur into his neck, finding the strength to roll your hips one more time to check. “You’re still hard, do you want me to help?”

“No.” he’s forthright, and as tired as you are, you force yourself to pick your head up. Sweat lines his brow and his face is flushed, but he’s already helping you off and handing you a tissue from the nightstand. 

“What?” you’re hurt, and don’t want to admit why. 

“Don’t feel like you need to,” he grunts into your forehead, dipping a chaste kiss right in the center. “Just let me do something nice to you for once.” 

As much as you want to, you don’t complain as he tucks you in. You don’t complain when you see a wet stain on his Kirby boxer briefs. You don’t answer back when he checks his phone one more time and pulls you in to press a kiss to your cheek. It’s 12:31. 

“Merry Christmas,” he murmurs into your skin, and turns over so his back faces you. 

Christmas is a loud and eager affair. The entirety of your family piles into your house while still in pajamas, aunts and uncles from other villas running in with their children with their newly opened toys and gadgets. There’s a buffet style breakfast piled on the kitchen island, and you’re all eating in the living room while watching holiday movies. 

Jungkook melds right in, unsurprisingly. He has your baby cousin Dante in his lap, teaching him how to use the controls of his new Nintendo Switch. 

Despite only meeting Jungkook a few days ago, you notice that some of your family have taken the liberty of giving him small presents. You spot a simple silver chain around his wrist, courtesy of Jimin, and a fluffy grey scarf wrapped around his neck, courtesy of your aunt’s impeccable knitting club. 

“He fits right in, doesn’t he?” 

Yoongi hands you your usual cup of tea, and you accept it gratefully. You’re sitting right next to the tree, and you notice that some of the ornaments are miniature books. You absentmindedly run your fingers over the carved wood, especially on the ones that are your favorite titles. 

“Yeah,” you hate to admit, so you whisper it into your mug. But Yoongi can hear, he always does. “I didn’t think it would be this easy.” 

“Easy to love him, or easy to fit into this family?” 

You splutter into your mug, and Yoongi does the right thing by patting your back. It feels a little bit like he’s burping a baby, but otherwise, it soothes your lungs. 

“I am happy for you, you know.” he says, knocking knees with you. “It might not seem like it now, but I truly am.” 

Deciding not to dwell on his subversive confession, you thank him for the tea and excuse yourself. Dante seems like he’s got the hang of MarioKart, so you tug Jungkook by the hand and lead him back into your bedroom. 

“I got you a present, but I didn’t feel like making a scene about it,” you pull out a pink gift bag, tufts of white tissue paper sticking out. “Also, it’s kinda cheap and it was a last minute thing, so don’t have any high expectations.” 

“Gee, you’re really making me feel deserving of this gift,” but he takes his time in unraveling the bag anyway. 

He pulls out a shiny onyx black mug, rolling it between his hands. On one side it’s engraved in gold cursive “World’s Best Boss” but on the other side it’s engraved, “World’s Best Husband”. 

“Subtle,” he grins, pulling you into a hug. He gets that it’s a gag gift, but because it’s from you, it's a lot more meaningful. You could’ve easily delved into his bank accounts and see what he buys for himself, but you decided to take the more personal route. 

“Thanks,” he murmurs into your hair. And to really throw you off he says, “For my gift, I’ve decided to publish your novel.” 

You shove him away as if you’ve been stung, and you barely have the voice to ask, “Are you serious, you’ve read my novel? I didn’t even send you the first draft!” 

“We share the same Google Drive, it was easy to find. If you had noticed, it’s the only thing I’ve been reading this week,” he shrugs as if it’s nothing, but he’s in actuality giving you your lifelong dream. “You deserve it, really. I’m sorry if you felt like it wasn’t ready to be read. But it was wonderful, you’re a real wordsmith.” 

“I’m not upset,” you can’t be, not when he smells so good and he’s trying to hug you all over again. “How many copies?”

“10,000.”

“20,000.”

“15,000, and I’ll even give you permission to dedicate your novel to me.” he raises his brows irreverently. 

You scoff at his arrogance, but you don’t admit to confessing that along with professors and your family, you would be dedicating it to him. “Well my gift feels like absolute shit,” you deadpan, “can I have a do-over tomorrow? We can go to the mall or something.”

“You’ve done enough for me,” he disagrees, breaking away from you to place the mug on your desk. “Agreeing to my farfetched proposal, letting me into your home. I think that’s an amazing gift.” 

“You’ve been way too nice,” you look at him wearily, noting the rosiness in his cheeks. 

“You say that like it’s not possible!” 

“Who knows? Maybe the Christmas spirit has performed a miracle, who am I to judge?” and you can’t get enough of the man, running into his heart one more time. Pressing your ear to his chest you sing, “Well, in the Poconos they say, that Jeon Jungkook’s heart grew three sizes that day.” 

It may have not grown three sizes, but if the living room wasn’t so loud, maybe you could’ve heard his heart beating three times as fast. 

The calm after the storm is your favorite part of Christmas. Most of your extended family has left to mull in their own homes, leaving your family to laze around until it’s just you and Jungkook that are awake. 

Jim Carrey’s version of How the Grinch Stole Christmas is playing on Netflix, arguably the only superior rendition of the children's book. The tree is still glowing by the fireplace, soft white lights trickling in the darkened room. 

Earlier in the night, you and Jungkook had cuddled up in the middle of the couch under a blanket, and were too lazy to move even when the entirety of your family vacated. Either of you could’ve easily shoved each other off and went to bed, but here you are, making offhand comments over hot cocoa. Each second that passes by, you’re more aware of how well you two sink between the fabric like you’re meant to do this. The domesticity terrifies you, but you don’t dare to point it out. 

“How does his face do that?” Jungkook turns to you, contorting his face into funny expressions. It’s a poor attempt at the green creature on the screen, but it makes your mouth twitch and you fight the urge to giggle. “It’s like he’s made of rubber.” 

“He has a sense of humor, unlike some people.” 

“Very funny,” he says, turning away to take a sip of his cooca. 

Sinking further into the couch, you unconsciously latch onto him more, savoring his body heat. “Can I confess something?”  

“What’s up?” 

“A week ago, I loathed you. I used to have recurring dreams about you getting run over by a Wonderbread truck. And I was driving the truck.” 

“Wow, that makes me feel so much better.” 

“No really, if I had the opportunity to watch you get hit by a cab, I would’ve paid for it.” 

“If it were possible for me to file for divorce at this very second, now would be time. You are a walking red flag.” 

“Okay, but!” you shush him with a finger to your lips, and he goes cross-eyed at the touch. “After seeing your stellar performance this week and an impeccable display of human emotion. I think after all of this, we could be friends.” 

“Fwends?” he says through your finger, mouth smushed. “Why whuh we?” 

Instead of lifting your finger right away, you swipe at his cherry lips, getting rid of the marshmallow sticking to the corners. 

“Because we get along.” you say simply.

“Because we’re supposed to be getting married.” 

“No! We’ve always gotten along! We’ve just been too up our asses to notice!” you sit up, appalled. “Here’s my theory, a change of setting has suddenly spurred on your character development—”

“—y’know I really don’t appreciate your use of literary jargon, it’s really pretentious—”

“—because without your external conflict, you have a chance to let loose and enjoy your life for once!” 

Jungkook frowns, adjusting his frame so he slightly hovers you. He’s pretty like this, dressed in fluffy black pajamas and his face soft. His eyes absorb the Christmas fairy lights, and you notice for the first time in two years that there are no longer purple bags under his eyes. 

“I don’t know,” he murmurs, voice so small you wonder if he’s worried to crush the moment. “Friends are hard.” 

You shake your head vehemently, “Friends are easy, keeping them is the hard part.”

He doesn’t know why he’s being so weird about this. You’ve worked for him for over two years, you know him as well as you know your skincare routine, down to the last detail. 

“Jeon, don’t think too hard about this,” you try to get him to lighten up, the intense look in his eyes throwing you in for a loop. It makes the little hamster wheel in your head spin rapidly, and you wonder if you’re really crossing a line. “Jimin said you had a really good time yesterday, I was almost jealous I couldn’t come shopping with you.” 

He cracks a smile at that, “Yeah, Jimin and I shared a moment,” and he leans down to the shell of your ear, “and he said he really enjoyed our moment last night.” 

“Oh my god!” you grab a nearby throw pillow, chucking the rough fabric in his face. 

He breaks into a laugh, but not the wine and dine chuckles that he’d have between terse negotiations for work. It’s a full out giggle, like he’s proud to have riled you up enough to break your resolve. Who knew your angry face could be so cute? 

“I guess if we’ve crossed a line, might as well make it all the way to the end,” Jungkook says easily, running a hand through his chocolate tresses. 

You and Jungkook are leaving the day after tomorrow. Most of your stuff is packed and ready to go, and you’re currently spending the rest of your night at a sit-down dinner with your immediate family plus Jimin. 

It’s peaceful, you muse. Jungkook even offered to help cook. Back at Big Hit not once did he ever bring leftovers from home, always insisting you order something for him during work. Kimchi fried rice is a simple dish, but Jungkook had taken great care in making sure it was cooked properly and adjusted to your family’s tastes. 

Your parents are glowing and enjoying their time with the whole family, a rarity that grows more valuable with age. The meal soothes you like a balm, reminding you of old conversations that had you spew milk out of your nose or Namjoon accidentally spilling beans on your lap. 

“Oh, you should also clear your schedule for the first week of September,” Jimin says absentmindedly, shoving another mouthful of fried rice. “Besides Easter, Jungkook says we can celebrate his birthday and visit for the weekend.” 

“Seriously,” Namjoon balks, sitting up straight as he regards you in disbelief. “You’re sure your Devil of a boss will enjoy you out of his chains for two vacations, god forbid you take the holidays off again.” 

The grip on your fork tightens, but you steel yourself. Honestly, you were wondering why it took Namjoon this long to let it all out. He was always vehemently against your job, as he was the person who got the brunt of your vents when you were stressed. Probably for the sake of Christmas he let it go, but now that it’s over, the topic’s fair game. 

“Oh, c’mon Joonie,” your mother frowns, “not at the table.” 

“He isn’t that bad, Joon.” you reason, completely ignoring Jungkook as you stare straight at your brother. “He means well—”

“Means well?” Namjoon barks a laugh, as if it’s the most laudable thing. “Sis, you cried everyday for a straight month after you were hired.” he places his hands on the table, regarding you carefully, “I had to personally call your doctor in New York to get you sleeping pills, and not to mention that two weeks ago, you were crying again because you were worried he forgot your vacation and would make you work! Don’t tell me he ‘means well’ when I’ve been busy picking up the pieces!” 

At this point, you’re livid. Jungkook’s right here, and while you can’t go ahead and out the fact that he is your boss, you can still have his back. 

They don’t know that you’ve picked the pieces back up, reinforced yourself to create a better version of the person you once were. 

“He does mean well,” you cry, matching your brother’s red tone to a T. “He’s just stressed and genuinely cares about the company. I choose to work long hours because he takes his time in making sure the work we publish is worthwhile, and I support that. He’s hard on me because he knows I have potential. He’s going to make sure I succeed.” 

Namjoon looks at you like you’ve grown two heads. “You’re seriously defending your shitty boss?” 

Jimin puts a hand over Namjoon’s in an attempt to placate him, but he shoves it away.

“Honestly,” Namjoon spits venom, “how can you possibly stand to be around someone who makes your life so miserable?” 

Your meal has gone cold, and your fists clutch desperately at your jeans. The breath is robbed from your lungs, and you can’t look at anyone for fear of them regarding you with guilt. You know since the day you got hired that your family wasn’t exactly enthused at your boss’ level of expectation and work output. But they don’t know the industry, and they don’t even really know Jungkook past the surface level. . 

But you know in their eyes, they’re right. Their daughter left their comfy home to pursue her lifelong dream, only for it to be broken in a matter of weeks. It’s natural to feel protective, and while you’re resilient and were able to get it together as of late, it wasn’t enough for them to understand. As someone who loves you, it’s obvious they’d want to blame your boss, blame Jungkook for your suffering. 

You imagine your father would ask Namjoon to step outside, or your parents would make Jimin pull you and Jungkook out. Neither of those things happen.

A warm, large hand is placed on top of yours. You look towards Jungkook, face unreadable as he squeezes your thigh. 

“Namjoon’s right.” Jungkook utters, pressing his lips together. “You deserve to be treated with respect. The boss has never appreciated the hard work you do, at least not out loud. You’re too good for him.”

“Jungkook,” you gape, putting your other hand over his. 

He pulls away at your touch, glancing at the clock. “This dinner was wonderful,” he says gently, looking apologetic to your parents. “Excuse me, but I promised to call my parents at this time.” 

The excuse is completely half-assed, but no one says anything as he leaves, walking out the door without a coat. The table is terse, with your parents attempting to coax out dessert while Jimin clears the dinner table. You refuse to look at Namjoon, who has no idea why you’re so upset. You wait five minutes before you mumble about getting Jungkook a jacket. 

However, when you open the door he isn’t sitting on the porch. He’s all the way up the street, too far for you to be heard with a yell, and walking farther into town. The black hoodie falls to your side, disappointed. 

Jungkook does in fact, call his parents. Your mother suggested it when she gave him the ring, thinking it would ease his homesickness if he made a better effort to communicate his feelings. 

And so he spends over an hour huddled in a cafe, talking about nothing and everything with his mom and dad. He tells them about the little novelties he’s experienced this week, like making popcorn strings and picking out themed Christmas ornaments. He tells him how he promises to book a flight back to Korea as soon as his work visa goes through. While he doesn’t mention the proposal, he mentions you. He prattles on and on about how strong and beautiful you are, and how you’ve crept up on him and made him realize how awful of a person he was. 

His mom prattles excitedly through the line, saying that women make you realize how much better you can be for them, but she doesn’t know the half of it. 

Jungkook sat there in your dining room, Namjoon boldly telling you off about how miserable he’s made you. 

And yet still, you defended him in ways he never imagined. Your relationship has always been mutual, and prickly at best. You balanced each other out, but he knows he doesn’t deserve you. When he first hired you, he rendered you indispensable like all the other assistants that couldn’t handle it. You’d break eventually. 

And you did break. But you picked up the pieces and put yourself back together, and you didn’t resent him for it. He hated that. How can you trust someone who’s hurt you so much? 

He can’t let you go through with this marriage. You’re wrong. You don’t need him to be successful. 

[11:09] You: mom unlocked the door for you. Jimin and i went out for drinks so idk when ill be back

[11:09] You: please don’t be mad at me

Silly girl, why would he ever be mad at you? 

His plan is simple, Sneak into your villa, grab his luggage, and try to book the earliest flight back to New York. Then, he can come clean to Taeyeon and spend the year in Korea while they work out his visa issues. He’ll quietly pack his things and clear out the office before Monday.  Hopefully by the time he makes it to Busan, he can forgive himself. He’s going to regret missing your expression when you get to hold the first physical copy of your novel. 

This plan proves difficult when he sees Namjoon waiting outside for him, sitting on his luggage and reading a book. His long legs are splayed across the porch, and he doesn’t spare Jungkook a glance.

“Knew something was off,” the older man doesn’t look up from his novel, “found the mug on her desk, bossman.” 

Muttering a curse under his breath Jungkook opens his arms, “Are you gonna beat me up now?” 

“What? No, I’m a lover, not a fighter.” Jungkook scoffs, and watches Namjoon roll his luggage to the back of the van. “And out of the kindness of my heart, I’ll save you the Lyft fare and drive you to the airport.” 

Is he that predictable? He flinches at the sudden jet of the ignition, and he takes heavy, snow-laden steps to the passenger seat. Once buckled in, Namjoon tosses the book in his lap. “Some light reading for the drive.” 

If Namjoon wasn’t the driver, he wouldn’t hesitate to chuck the book at his big, intelligent head. Instead, he glowers, clutching the book tightly. It’s only when they round the corner to a house brightly decorated with lights, does he see what novel Namjoon’s plucked. 

A Mutually-Assured Attachment. Jungkook tosses the book back and forth between his palms, noting the soft cover is so worn it could melt apart in his lap. It feels tended and loved from years of use. 

It’s Jungkook’s first novel, and you had a copy. One of the first editions, if he remembers the cover art correctly. Granted, he thought you had some of his books purely because of your job, but not one from your childhood. Frankly he thought this should have never been published, but he was nineteen and that in itself was a large feat. 

He carefully peels the pages, and takes out his phone to shine the flashlight mode. At the very front, blood red ink is scratched next to the title: “this is THE most pretentious title i’ve read in my life! Don’t disappoint me jeon!!” 

Your handwriting’s all over the place. He sees graphite, gel, and glitter pens mark the margins, as if you’ve come back each time to write something new. The annotations vary, from “this part sucks” to “shit, that’s good i should do that”. You draw little pictures of the objects he’s contrived, from the little brass locket one character cherishes to the facial expressions you imagine they hold. 

And at the very end, your handwriting sits neat and bold on the inside cover: I can do better than him. 

Jungkook chuckles to himself, turning off the light. You’re always right. 

Namjoon senses the younger one is done, and he clears his throat. “I really really don’t understand what she sees in you.” 

“I don’t understand either,” Jungkook agrees easily, his finger tracing your handwriting. He muses that you were always out to get him, even if you didn’t know it. 

Namjoon masks his surprise by clearing his throat. “But I’d rather seek to understand than live the rest of my life having my sister resent me. I don’t really know what you two are going through, but if she trusts you with her life, I’ll try. Emphasis on try.” 

“I don’t deserve your trust.” 

“You damn right you don’t,” succumbing to his impulses Namjoon makes a sharp turn, and Jungkook holds his stomach together before it flies out the window.  

You come home to find your room cold and barren. All of Jungkook’s things are gone, except your Christmas mug. 

You at least thought Jungkook would spare you a goodbye before he ditched you. You hoped you’d at least consider each other friends who provide explanations after all of this. 

Lifting the mug off the desk, you hear a little clink in the glass, the chime unfamiliar. Hurriedly, you pour out its contents. A heavy, tungsten black ring lands in your palm. You clench the metal between your fingers, hugging it to your chest. 

Mind made up, you dash out to the hallway, nearly bumping into your cousin. At the same time you and Jimin blurt, “We need to go to the airport.” 

Apparently Namjoon warned Jimin that something fishy’s going on. Namjoon didn’t know what, but he had the inkling that Jungkook was hiding something. Once Jimin received the text to meet them at the airport, he flung you in his sedan and floored it. Flushed with adrenaline, Jimin is speeding with a fervor you’ve never experienced. 

“Can you please, take the edge off and tell me what the hell is going on?” 

Just like how Jungkook didn’t want Big Hit to go down the drain, you didn’t want this week to be in vain. You can’t wait a year for Jungkook to come back, and you didn’t want to publish your first novel without him by your side. 

“Long version or short version?” 

“The in-the-middle version. I don’t think I have the brain capacity to absorb all your drama right now but I really need some answers.” 

“O-kay. Basically, Jungkook isn’t a Literary Agent. He’s my god-awful boss. Or was awful, I don’t know. Jungkook left the country before his work visa was fully processed. That’s a breach, so he needs to live in Korea for a year to come back. But he can’t run Big Hit remotely, so he proposed to marry me to attain citizenship.”

Your head whips to the dashboard and you cry out, barely stopping the impact with your hands.  

“Sorry, sorry!” Jimin’s eyes are focused on the red light, absolutely terrified. “Bitch, you’re committing fraud with your boss! You could go to jail, that’s like, the hottest love story ever!” 

“But he’s going back to Korea because now he suddenly realized he can forge basic human connection.” you mutter, “so no, we’re not going to jail because he’s decided to do the right thing.” 

“So what you’re saying is, Jungkook has achieved self-actualization and decided to peacefully move to Korea and sacrifice the company for you.” Jimin is carving his free hand in the air, gesturing wildly. “Don’t you see! He really likes you.”

“Yeah, so now we need to go to the airport and tell his dumbass this isn’t the time to be selfless.” 

Once you find a spot you’re rushing out of the car, weaving between carts and people to find the correct terminal. This airport is much smaller than JFK, so it’s easy for you to navigate and get past the TSA. It also helps that Jin’s wife is an attendant. 

“He chose the 1:45 flight in Terminal 31A,” Mijoo chirps from her tablet, leading you in the right direction. She’s dressed impeccably, the odds and ends of this airport glued together by her impeccable organization. She points to the clock, which glares a digital 1:18AM. “You have time.” 

“Thank you Mijoo,” you exhale gratefully, “and I’m so so sorry I skipped your wedding!” 

“This is the 300th time you’ve said it,” Mijoo rolls her eyes, pushing you and Jimin forward, “But I’ll make sure not to miss your wedding.” 

You’re sweating from your down jacket, and you can’t believe it’s really all come down to this. The one person you’ve spent the last two years of your life doting on, and you didn’t want to stop. You wanted him not just for the publication of your novel, but because you needed him. 

Jungkook’s sitting in the waiting area of Terminal 31A, looking wholly inconspicuous as he reads a book and has his hood propped up. 

Fists balled, you stride forward only to have Jimin tug you back. “What?” 

Jimin pulls off your thick coat, making haste to wipe the sweat off your brow with his sleeves and flatten your messy hair. “What?” he tilts his head to the side, “you need to look good before the big confrontation. I’m recording this for archival purposes. Do you have any lip balm by any chance? You look chapped.” 

You slap his hands away, but those grubby fingers just come back with a vengeance. “My life is just a big show to you, isn’t it?”

“Living vicariously all day, every day.” 

While Jimin parts your bangs, the intercom cuts through the air. 

“The 1:45 flight to John F. Kennedy International airport will now commence boarding. Please line up according to the ticket class.” 

Jimin smiles at you, squeezing your shoulders and gestures for you to go. To your horror, Jungkook is first in line. Panic bubbles to your throat.

“Jeon Jungkook!” you cry, voice echoing throughout the terminal. “If you so much breathe in the direction of that plane I will call Mark Lee right this second and tell him the book series is off!” 

Like a deer in the headlights, Jungkook heeds to your voice immediately. In his stupor you jog forward to snatch his wrist and pull him out of line. You don’t let go until you’re away from the long line, and Jungkook tugs his wrist away. 

“Don’t you dare call him,” Jungkook looks serious, as if you didn’t drive all the way to stop him from making the biggest mistake of his life. “I will never forgive you if you terminate Mark Lee’s contract.” 

“And I won’t forgive you if you get on that plane.” 

Pain flashes in his eyes, and he shakes his head. “I need to. I can’t let us—let you go through with this. You and your family deserve better.” 

“What? Jungkook, I agreed to this just as much as you did.” 

“No, you didn’t.” he’s adamant, and steps back with every step you take forward. “As your boss I threatened you, held it over your head like an ultimatum. I’ve hurt you,” his voice cracks, looking at you desperately, “why would you want to be stuck with me when I’ve made your life miserable?” 

“If I really wanted to leave, I would’ve done it a long time ago.” You reason, “Do you really want to leave the company behind? To fucking Karen?” 

“Of course I don’t!” Jungkook exclaims, “but it isn’t worth hurting you, hurting your family and everyone that loves you.” 

“And what about you? You’ll be hurt when you leave,” and you step forward, so close that your chests are touching. You take hold of his hands, clutching them between your small ones. “Don’t go, stay with me in New York. We’ll both work hard and try to not run each other to the ground. Let’s be better together.” 

You’re practically begging, biting your lip raw and hoping Jungkook understands how good this change is for the both of you. 

Jungkook is conflicted, looking back and forth between the airline boarding for JFK and your watery eyes. He hates seeing you like this. He can’t imagine you, the strongest woman he’s ever met, crying because of him. Namjoon’s voice echoes in his mind and he tries to smash it to the edge of his memory. But as always, you’re right. 

He replaces your grip with his own, and gets down on one knee. 

Jungkook says your name like it's the sweetest of songs. You’ve never seen him so terrified. “y/n, I didn’t do it right the first time, so let me try again. Please, marry me. Marry me because I want to date you. I want to take you out and give you what you deserve, what we deserve. I want to do better for myself, do better for you. I’ve realized you’re the only person that makes me feel like I’m simultaneously on fire and on thin ice,” he pulls out a velvet box from his pocket, revealing a thin band with interlocking black and clear diamond studs. It’s a pretty little thing, with a groove in the center so it stacks perfectly with your engagement ring. “This was supposed to be your Christmas present, but I chickened out at the last second,” he says sheepishly, tucking his head in. “But if you let me put this ring on your finger, I promise to be your home away from home.”  

With a sob you fall to your knees, throwing yourself onto Jungkook. A small “oof” escapes his lips, and he struggles to hold your waist so you both don’t topple over. “Yes, yes, yes!” you cry, pulling away to cup his face with both hands, pulling him into a sweet kiss. 

Jungkook’s smile takes up his entire face, and he eagerly pecks your lips one more time before ripping the ring from its holder and stacking it on top of your engagement ring. The teardrop diamond is nestled perfectly between the thinner band’s V. “Pretty,” he says, pressing his forehead to yours. 

“Wait,” you pull out the black ring that you found in your room, holding it to his face. “I’m assuming this is yours?” 

“Yeah,” he replies, “your mother said it was your great grandfather’s. It’s not an engagement ring, but it’s the thought that counts.” 

“It matches,” you hum, placing his simpler band in his ring finger. Once it’s on, you take a deep breath. “Shit, we’re really doing this?” 

Jungkook pulls you to stand, wiping the happy tears from your cheek. “We are, we’re a team, remember? We’ve crossed the line and we gotta finish it.” 

And he picks you up, the workouts definitely paying off as he spins you around like you’re the leads in La-La Land, drunk off the happy chemicals firing in your brain. Jimin whoops and hollers, along with all the other patrons in the vicinity of the airport terminal. 

Your real-fiancé puts you down, the both of you now hyperconscious of the stares people give you. Other people have filmed the proposal as well, completely smitten by your confessions. 

“Jungkook,” you giggle into his shoulder, “you were right. Our story is straight out of a Wattpad entry.” 

“Down to the super cheesy in-public airport proposal?” he chimes, pressing his forehead to yours. “Couldn’t have asked for a better love story.” 

“I can’t wait to fall in love with you,” you whisper, quiet enough for his ears only, “for real, this time.” 

“Not that it’s a challenge,” he teases softly, “but I’m already halfway there.” 

some months later.

“Like the new office, boss lady?” your new assistant (yes, you have an assistant!) asks kindly, his bubbly presence uplifting you immediately. He leads you to the window box, filled with tiny plants. “I figured you like succulents, because you have no time to water them and they’re prickly like you.” 

“Very funny, Seungkwan.” you chide good-naturedly, picking up a succulent with a yellow flower in the middle. “But thank you, your interior design skills are outmatched. I can’t wait to work with you.” 

“Me too, your social commentary you published on the literary industry? And you managed to lace it all up in an inconspicuous fantasy novel?” Seungkwan boasts, “I applied for this position right then and there.” 

“Thanks Seungkwan, why don’t you take your lunch and we’ll meet back at one to discuss our plans for next week.” 

“Sounds good, do you want me to pick you up something?” 

“I’m good, I’m meeting with the bossman.” 

Seungkwan gives you that look, his lips jutting out in a suggestive manner that almost makes you burst into giggles. Your assistant decides not to bother you until after you’ve eaten, and bids you goodbye. 

Just when you get a moment of peace, a handsome face pokes his way inside. “Hello editor,” Jungkook knocks on your door for the sake of attention, but you’re already dragging him into the office and shutting the door tight. “Like your new office?” 

“Love it,” you moan, gesturing to Seungkwan’s light filtering curtains. They’re not dark, rather a tasteful sea green, but they’re opaque enough to stop wandering eyes from peeking into your space. Your personal space was a qualm that immediately needed to be mended after your experience in Jungkook’s office. “A lot more private than your office.” 

“A little part of me hates how much you deserve this promotion,” he sits on your desk, and doesn’t hesitate to pull you between his legs, letting you lean into his chest, “but I do love the added privacy.” 

You fiddle with the buttons of his navy collar, his strong thighs trap you between him, “Why, miss me already?” 

He shrugs, “Taehyung doesn’t look as good as you do in a pencil skirt.” 

You laugh, brushing the strands of hair that fall from his coiff. “No one looks as good as I do in a pencil skirt.” A firm grip confirms that, two strong hands cupping your backside. “Mr. Jeon!” you gasp playfully, pushing him away slightly to pinch his cheeky grin. “Can we save this for later? I’m hungry, but we can always continue this for dessert.” 

He groans in your neck, “Love the sound of that, Mrs. Jeon.” 

bonus.

“FUUUCCCKKKKKK YEEAAHHHHH!” Park Jimin’s voice bounces off the walls of Taeyeon’s office, his face taking up the entire screen of his desktop as the camera shifts harshly between him and you and Jungkook at the airport. “My cousin’s not going to jail! WOO!” 

Taeyeon pauses the YouTube video at a particularly unflattering screencap: Jimin’s nostrils are flaring wildly and he looks fairly high mid-scream. 

A low whistle escapes Jungkook’s lips, “Wow. That video’s viral,” he looks to you appreciatively, “if Jimin kicks off his YouTube career, you think we can milk a memoir outta him?” 

“Potentially,” you reply nonchalantly, playing with your rings. 

“So,” Taeyeon’s voice is icy, slashing between your casual conversation, “you’re getting married, for real this time?” 

“Yep,” Jungkook pops. 

“Alright,” and from her desk she pulls out an ungodly stack of documents, one that mirrors your own back at the office. “Jungkook, you’ll stay with me. y/n, you’ll go to Vernon’s office and he’ll give you the same spiel. We’ll interview you privately with the same questions. A hair out of place and you’re in trouble. You sure you want to go through with this?” 

You and Jungkook exchange looks, betting your own company that you got this in the bag. 

“Hit us with your best shot.” 

[probsjosh]

Just a Bit More

Three times you were out here flirting with Sapnap on stream and the fourth time when ya'll straight up confessed to eachother

AKA Flirtationship but with a lot of Mutual Pining

Sapnap × GN!Reader

No warning! All fluff :)

@svgarbees I love your writing challenge bro <3

-----------

The first time Sapnap had met you it was very briefly, as George had been placed on your team for MCC and Sapnap had come into the discord call to taunt him just before the games began. 

"Well if it isn't Team Bottoms."

The second the taunt was out in the open air, a roar of protests came from George and Antfrost. BadBoyHalo sat in some confusion, "Bottoms? Bottom of what?" was all he asked, and after he didn't receive an answer, he shrugged it off and quickly muted to talk to his chat. You, however, were practically wheezing, desperately trying to get air into your lungs as you laughed at Saps opening line, causing the other three to pause their bickering long enough to ask if you were alright. "I'm fuckin' great- I don't know who you are dude, but I think I already love you." 

Sapnap laughed lightly as his face turned a light shade of pink, "If you liked that one so much I have a lot more where that came fro—" He was cut off mid-sentence as he was kicked from the call back to his own teams vc. 

"We are not 'Team Bottoms'," George scoffed out, as the MCC timer got to zero.

"George. We totally fuckin are," You laughed out as everyone rushed inside.

"Language!" 

~

The second time had been when George invited you to play Proximity Chat Among Us on stream after realizing they didn't have 10 people to play a full game. You two had actually hit it off really well during MCC and stayed in contact afterwards, but this was the first time he had invited you to play anything with his group of friends.

After happily agreeing, you received the game code and joined the vc, only to be greeted with George desperately trying to tell everyone to shut up for just one second and Sapnap loudly arguing that George wasn't the boss of him. It was only after you'd joined the game and let out a soft, "Hello," did he shut up.

"Oh-" Was all Sap could get out before George cut him off, "Yeah 'oh', that's what I was trying to tell you. Everyone this is y/n, y/n this is everyone," 

There was a chorus of greetings as everyone welcomed you to the soon to be shitshow. The smile on your face didn't fade once the entire time, being able to properly introduce yourself and crack jokes with everyone once you were in game. The one person you weren't surprised to see you were getting along with amazingly was with Sapnap, immediately remembering him from your first unofficial meeting.

"So you think I'm a bottom Sapnap?" you questioned as you caught him in a room by himself. "I- uh- why? Are-are you a bottom?" He asked, a hesitant grin on his face, he wasn't sure what boundaries he was pushing, but he was certain he was toeing the line. Luckily for him, you let out a laugh before you teased him, "Wouldn't you like to know." Suddenly feeling more confident in himself he hummed before teasing right back, "I mean, with your consent, I would." 

Your laugh sounded out as you tried and failed to stutter out a response when someone walked into the room and yelled, "George! Sapnap is flirting with your friend!" They ran away yelling for George as Sapnap laughed and ran away,  chasing after them, "Don't snitch on me you bitch!" 

You stood there in the middle of the room giggling as Sapnap quickly ran back into the room, "If George asks, I'm totally telling him you hit on me first." 

"Okay sure, Mr. I'd Like To Find Out If You're a Bottom," You both laughed as a body was reported and you were thrown into a meeting.

From that moment it had become a running bit for you two to needlessly flirt with eachother at any given moment, and by the end of the stream every chat was filled with debates on what the ship name should be. 

After saying your goodbyes and leaving for the night, you sat in your chair thinking about Sapnap, and trying to ignore the butterflies in your tummy as you thought about every exchange you'd had with him that night. 

~

The third time had been the first time you logged on to the Dream SMP after George had very sweetly asked Dream to whitelist you, because he missed playing the Craft with someone he now considered a close friend to him. 

At first it was just George and yourself sitting in a call as he gave you a very messy tour of the world that consisted of a very bad history lessons of the lore. "I'm not very involved in the storyline so I don't really know what happened," George explains as he leads you over to the now crater of L'Manberg, "But I do know that, canonically, Dream is crazy." 

The familiar sound of someone joining the call sounded out, followed by a very familiar voice, "George, Dream is crazy both in game and out, you give him too much credit." 

There was soft laughter before you spoke, "Sapitus Napitus!" the happiness in your voice evident, and George chuckled, "What? You miss your boyfriend?" Despite how flustered you'd gotten you managed to bite back, "What? Jealous I got a boyfriend before you did, Georgie?" 

Sapnap joined in as well, "Yeah Georgie, at least we have a significant other for Valentines day. Not our fault you broke my boy Dreams heart by turning him down." 

We all laughed at that as Sapnap joined the game as well as the tour. At first, it had seemed like you and Sap had fallen back into your endless flirting to annoy George but after a while it just became a casual thing between the two of you, compliments and innuendos being tossed between the two of you.

All three of you had actually become really comfortable with one another over the course of the accidental five hour stream. So comfortable in fact that before you left to end your stream George sent you off with a final tease, "Of God, I'm never gonna hear the end of this from either of you am I?" You and Sapnap glanced at each other in game before turning to George, "What do you mean, Gogy?" Sapnap asked carefully, as he slowly scrolled through his hotbar to pull out his sword. George, oblivious to this, continued, "I mean you two blabber on and on about each other to me all the time, why don't you two just talk about how much you like each other to each o–" George cut himself off with a scream as Sapnap went after him with the intent of murder. 

Before you could fully process the words that had come out of George's mouth, you phone pinged, alerting you that you needed to end stream. "I'm sorry guys, I gotta go, I have something I need to do." Both boys stopped in their tracks to give you a proper goodbye, "Bye, message me when you're free again," George said innocently as he crouch walked away from where Sapnap stood turned towards your character. "Or you could message me–" Sap said, the cheeky smile on his face falling as George teased him again, "Yeah you wish, Snapchat." 

And with that Sapnap returned to his assassination attempt as George screamed for his life. You laughed before mumbling a goodbye and leaving both the game and the call.

After ending stream you walked over to your bed before falling face first into the mattress and screaming. 

George really had to out you like that huh?

~

The fourth time was just a couple days after the third. You had been streaming for a little bit, your first grind session on the SMP to get yourself started, when George entered your voice channel and startled the hell out of you. 

"HI y/n!" he greeted innocently as you yelped, hitting your desk and nearly spilling your water everywhere. "George! Dude, you have to stop scaring me like that," you tried to scold him but your laugh broke your angry facade. "Sorry, sorry, I hadn't meant to scare you- hey is Sapnap online right now?" 

"Um," you glanced over at your chat briefly before pressing tab, "Yeah, he's online, why?" You didn't receive an answer as George disconnected from the call abruptly. "Wow okay, rude." was all you commented before returning to entertaining your chat as you mined away. 

A couple minutes later you were startled yet again as George reconnected, immediately letting out a loud yelp, as a skeleton shot you simultaneously. "George!" you panicked as you swiped your sword at the skeleton, going down to threw hearts before finally killing it. "I'm sorry! I don't mean to scare you, I just wanted to tell you that Sa–" He disconnected again mid-sentence, this time your curiosity was peaked. 

"If George reconnects and scares me one more time, I'm flying to his country to kick his ass." You laughed as your chat began speculating what he wanted to tell you, and clipping your scared reaction.

It was peaceful for a while, you had been caving with not trouble, but eventually you ran out of food and needed to resurface. Unfortunately for you, a loud ping from Discord sounded out, distracting you long enough for a creeper to sneak up behind you and kill you before you had a chance to react. "George I'm buying a plane ticket to go kick your ass, I swear to..." a soft laugh makes you trail off. "Well, I'm not George, but I'd love to see you kick his ass," Sapnaps voice rang out and you slapped a hand over your mouth. 

"Fuck, sorry, sorry Sap, George has just been coming in and out of the vc and scaring me" You clicked respawn and began running back to your things. "Yeah, sorry about that, I kept pulling him out of there because he's trying to embarrass me." 

"Embarrass you? How?" You found the cave you had gone down and made your way to your things. 

"Well, um, he- where are you? On the server I mean." It was a bit odd to you that he was stuttering this much, he was usually very confident in himself, but you made no comment on it. 

"I'm in a cave getting my things back, I'll put my cords in chat, I'm not far from my house," You gathered your things before quickly typing into chat, and running to the mouth of the cave to get back home.

There's a beat of comfortable silence as you emerge seeing Sapnap running towards you in the distance. 

"Hi, hello!" You crouched at him once he'd gotten close enough. He giggled and answered back, "Hi," as he crouched in return. 

"So why's George trying to embarrass you?" you asked making your way back to your house, Sapnap following close behind. "He keeps saying some bullshit that I don't believe, so I've come to just- just ask you." 

Your stomach began to fill with butterflies, but you shot down your hopes and tried to keep a level voice, "Oh? What have you come to ask me, Mr. Sapnap?" You opened the door to your house and entered to turned around to face him once more.

He crouched his character and took a breath, "George has this idea that when we- when we flirt, it's not just a bit. And, I just wanted to ask you," he comes closer a bit, as your air catches in your throat, "is it just- do you see it as just a bit?"

'Because I don't,' the words die on his tongue, not wanting to sway your next words.

You sat for a second, thoughts going a million miles a minute as you finally find the will to say, "Sap, I–" 

"Its okay if you do, I mean yeah, like if thats how you see it then that's how I see it too, yknow? I don't want to make you uncomfortable or anything and the last thing I want to do is ruin the friendship we just started like a week ago, and I–" His nervous ramblings are cut short when you hit his character, a smile finding its way onto your face. 

"Sap, we really need to start letting people finish their fuckin sentences," you laugh, your nerves building again but you decide to say fuck it and push through before you chicken out, "I was going to say… I don't know if it's just a bit or not but, if you're okay with it… I wouldn't mind taking the flirting a bit more seriously?" A nervous smile settled on your features, the butterflies in your stomach going wild, as you waited for his answer. 

Another beat of silence as Sapnap gathered his scattered briancells to finally form a coherent thought. "I- yeah, yeah, I'd love to," a relieved laugh turns into a genuine one after he realizes, "Oh my god, George was right." 

You grin, nerves now mostly gone, "Motherfucker really was tired of our bullshit, huh?" Easy laughter flowed between you two before another Discord ping rung out.

George had joined the call, presumably to gloat about being right, but instead: "Hey uh, y/n? You do realize you're still streaming, right?"