#this took half an hour probably a waste of time and energy but oh well

[aissa-snapped]

Rescuing A Friend

Summary:After Eloise meets notorious Sirius Black at a ball, she thinks they will become friends at school, but that wish comes to an end the moment he sees her sitting with Regulus Black, thinking she is just like the rest of them.

Word count: 6k+ 

Pairings: Sirius Black x OC

'' Don`t know mate. All I know is that I don`t want to go to that stupid ball my parents are throwing.'' Sirius huffed angrily, placing his chin in the palm of his hand, resting it on the table, unavoidably pushing his plate filled with scrambled eggs and sausages to the side.

'' Well you don`t have much of a choice now, do you?'' Remarked Remus as a matter-of-fact. He took a sip of his pumpkin juice, followed by a bite of toast.

The dark haired boy glared at him, huffing at his comment.

'' A little support from my friends would be much appreciated Moony!''

'' Ok, ok. I am sure it will all go well and you`ll have fun.'' James reassured his grumpy friend, patting him on the back.

'' More like it will go by fast, hopefully.'' Grumbled Sirius, aware that this was their last day of school and tomorrow he will be heading back home for the summer, where his oh-so-lovely mother decided to host yet another fancy ball for the pureblood families across all Europe.

'' Bye Prongs. I'll miss ya. Write to me.'' Sirius hugged his bespectacled friend, pulling away sadly. ''You two as well.'' He glanced at Remus and Peter, who were waiting on the Potter boy to accompany them.

'' Of course we will Pads, but I can`t say the same about you.'' James raised his brows, acting all serious for a few moments before laughing and hugging his brother from another mother a second round. '' Oi I told ya my mum grounded me last summer. There was no way for me to contact you.'' He reasoned.

'' Well then behave this summer lad. Be good and we might see each other sooner.''

'' Ye ye all right. Bye.''

'' Oh I`m so happy for this event. I even dare say I`ve outdone myself!'' Walburga exclaimed enthusiasticaly, clasping her hands together, and taking a step back to admire her work. She gazed around the room, where the ball was being held, to take a look at the fine decor that complimented the walls and ceiling.

'' You mean to say the house elves have outdone themselves.'' Corrected his mother smirking, whilst leaning half his body on the entrance into the room.

Scoffing at her rebel son, she rolled her eyes turning to look at him. '' I was the one who coordinated the whole planning of this. Therefore, it was all my efforts that are now paying off!'' Argued back the annoyed mother.

'' Yes yes but technically it was their physical effort that made it-'' '' WHAT are you still doing here? The guests will be arriving shortly. I do Not have time to waste my energy on such matters. Go get dressed.'' She waved a dismissive hand at Sirius, ushering him back to his chamber.

Defeteadly, Sirius huffed, making a piece of curly hair that was hanging around his face fly away in the process, turning smoothly towards the stairs.

Hours later, the ball was in full motion. Various families were dancing, drinking and conversing delightfully, overall creating a pleasant atmosphere.

At such times you were able to tell the heavy contrasts between the two Black brothers. Whereas Regulus was already blending in and courting several young women, Sirius begrudgingly sitting in a corner of the room, itching to go light up a cigarette but thinking of the consequences, knew better than to do it.

Hovering his eyes over the room looking for a potential person to chat with, his looks rested upon an unfamiliar face. The young girl seemed to be just as out of place as him, so with a grin, he strode over to her.

'' I don`t think I`ve ever met you before. You seem... Lost.'' He remarked, beaming his charming smile at her. The stranger blinked up at him, moving her shoulder length hair our of the way.

'' Yes well, that would probably be because I have never been here before. Hi I am Eloise Montalli.'' She offered her hand for a shake, and Sirius took if gleefully, feeling her soft skin against his own.

'' Sirius. Pleasure.'' He bowed lightly, making her giggle at his courtesy. '' Montalli... Mon-ta-lli. I don`t seem to be familiar with your family. Half-bloods?''

She frowned her brows, shaking her head almost as if insulted. ''Purebloods. We are from Italy.''

''  That explains the slight accent I sensed.At what school do you go to?'' Truthfully, Sirius thought her accent was rather cute and quirky. He liked it.

'' I-... I was home schooled. Our whole family was. We always believed that we can get the most education if we had the teacher`s full attention on just a few of us, rather than a full class.'' She shrugged neutrally, reaching next to the table to grab a snack. '' Oh yes, I understand. And what year are you going into?'' '' 6th. Though, my parents have been asked to move their work specifically here, by personal request of the minister.''

At this, Sirius widened his eyes, piecing all the newfound information in his head.

'' Wait.. so.. does that mean... you're transferring to Hogwarts?'' He asked hopefully, feeling a sudden warmth taking over his insides.

'' Oh.. I- I don`t know yet. Perhaps. ''

They conversed for the rest of the night, Eloise laughing once in a while at a corny joke Sirius cracked from time to time. Usually, the dark haired boy hated these sorts of gatherings. It was no secret he was against everything the pureblood high society stood for. But for once, he seemed quite pleased with this night and he seemed to enjoy every second of it.

Regulus eyed his brother once in a while, noticing his joyful state and getting a slight wave of jealousy seeing him flirt with a pretty girl.

The night eventually came to an end. With sad looks and sighs, the two parted ways, but not before Sirius took the initiative and hugged the Italian girl. Getting a whiff of a sweet flowery scent, he inhaled it deep in his lungs, hoping he could hold onto her smell a little longer and wouldn`t forget her so easily.

Before he even blinked, summer was over and he was returning back to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Seeing his friends for the first time in a few months was always a go-to. Reuniting with them felt like his heart was full again.  He could go back to pulling pranks and having a hearty laughter.

But at the back of his head, there was that lingering scent of the stranger girl he met at the ball, wondering if she will show up at Hogwarts. Not knowing if she did, he thought it unimportant to tell his friends about her YET.

The celebration was as boring as ever. Being a first year and getting placed into your house for the next seven years surely was a nerve wracking experience. But as one of the older students, you couldn`t care less about the youngest ones being placed in their respective houses, unless it was a know relative of course.

Sirius couldn`t catch a glimpse of the girl amongst the first years, so he sadlt dropped his gaze on his lap, ignoring his friends talking around him.

'' You all right Pads?'' The scarred boy checked on him, seeing he kept glancing at the first years. '' You looking for someone familiar?'' James asked curiously, forming a grin in a teasing manner.

'' OH no no. I was... just observing the children. They are so tiny, can`t believe we were like them just a few years ago.'' He sighed sadly, trying to convince his friends this was what was keeping him so lost in their conversation.

'' Yeah.. right.'' Peter agreed, looking at him weirdly and then going back to conversing with James.

Unbeknownst to Sirius, the said girl had been sorted into her house previous to the arrival of the rest of the students. She found herself sitting with none other than Regulus Arcturus Black, who was more than happy to welcome her to her new temporary family.

First day of classes was the hardest. Reprogramming your mind to waking up early in the morning, adjusting to both classes during the day, as well as during the night for Astronomy and finding the time to study or do your homework in your free time. Not that these were all things Sirius truly cared about. He was lucky having grown up in a pureblood lineage. They had access to education and all sorts of knowledge that was introduced to them very early on in their lives. So naturally, he was a fast learner and unlike his friends, he spent the least amount of time dedicated to school, since he only needed a few repetitions to fully understand something.

'' C`mon hurry up. I am hungry.'' Peter whined, waiting impatiently by the door, already dressed up and ready for the first day of classes.

'' You don`t have to wait for us. Just go and stuff your face with food.'' Remarked Sirius grumpily, who was putting on his white shirt as slowly as ever.

'' Ugh. You lads always make me miss the first round of sausages. '' And with that. Peter left their shared dorm and with heavy thumping sounds, he rushed towards the Great Hall.

James laughed, glancing at Remus and Sirius, and finished knotting his tie, ruffling his hair a bit followed by placing his glasses on.

'' Don`t worry mate. No matter how hard you try, Evans won`t agree on going out with you today either.'' Reassured Remus, before checking his school bag to check if everything was in order.

With a gasp, James stood agape for a few moments, before he started reasoning with Remus as to how he has been developing some sort of strategy that will DEFINITELY make Lily go out with him.

'' - and when she`ll hear it, she will come to ME to cry to-who you laughing at Pad? Put some bloody pants on and fast cuz we want to go down to breakfast.'' Sirius begrudgingly obliged, and with rushed steps they all headed towards the Great Hall.

They were scanning the Gryffindor table in search for their friend, when Sirius glanced by the Slytherin table by mistake and spotted his brother. However it was not his brother that made him pause his movements, but rather the person sitting next to him. It was HER. How come she never told him she was here? And how come he didn`t see her yesterday during the sorting ceremony?

Feeling a pair of powerful eyes on her, Eloise turned to look around for whoever was studying her. When she noticed Sirius, she happily waved at him, showing him a beautiful genuine smile. However, her beam faltered when she noticed he was not reciprocating her actions, but worse, he was glaring at her and quickly turned his back to her.

With a sad gaze, she turned back to her breakfast, only she was no longer hungry and slightly pushed her plate away. Regulus, who was smirking from the previous interaction between the two, altered his emotions, looking at her with pityful eyes, rubbing her back.

'' I told you. That`s how they act. They have no respect for us and turn against you once you join this house.'' '' But- we talked. At the ball... We had a great time..'' With a roll of his eyes, ensuring she wasn`t looking at him, he placed an arm around her shoulders and brought her closer to him, feeling her weight slightly shift into his side.

'' Who was that mate?'' James asked the instant they were all seated. '' Hello?!'' He repeated, seeing as Sirius completely ignored the question. Finally acknowledging his question, he raised his eyebrows at his friend, as if asking silently if the question was directed at him.

'' You were asking me?'' '' No, he was asking your mom.'' Remus remarked, huffing at the marauder.

'' Don`t know. I don`t think I`ve seen her around here before though.''

'' That`s because she is new. Transferred here this summer.'' Chipped in Lily, who just happened to be passing the boys before going to sit down next to her friends.

'' Then how come we didn`t see her at the cer-'' Sirius couldn`t finish his question because Lily was already heading towards her group and James in a rushing tone yelled after her if she wanted to study with him after class.

'' I`ve already promised someone I`d study with them.'' She said cheekily, winking at James and sitting down a few seats away from them.

''Bloody buggers. I hope it`s not that mop of greasy hair.'' He grumbled under his breath, biting down his toast with anger, which caused the other marauders to chuckle at his flustered state.

'' Potions as first class in the morning should be illegal. I can`t brew anything this early in the morning.'' Complained Sirius to James, who was nodding along and taking steps towards the classroom. They were usually partners in Potions whilst Remus and Peter would pair up together, or in this case, they had different classes than the two pureblood marauders.

Taking a seat in the very back of the class, they pulled out their textbooks, and kept themselves busy chatting with one another, planning future pranks and such. That only lasted until one certain student took a seat in front of Sirius, gesturing with his hands for another one to come take the available seat next to him.

Sirius turned towards James with a grimace on his hands, mouthing the word 'Snivellus' and both of them sniggering at the whole new pranking possibilities to make this class more entertaining, for them two at least.

Sirius` snorting stopped, once he recognized Snape`s Potions partner. The girl lightly twisted her body towards the marauders to collect the textbook from her bag, and attempted another smile at the Curly haired boy.

James returned her gesture, already being a gentleman by introducing himself. '' Glad to meet you. I see you have already been corrupted with sitting with the snakes. But I guarantee you, should you change your mind, our table is more fun and friendlier.'' He flirted, taking her hand and kissing the top of it. Not knowing how to respond, she giggled, trying to ignore the rush of heat that was making her way towards her cheeks.

Snape glared at James, and placed a firm hand on the girl`s shoulder, forcefully turning her around towards the front and with her back towards the boys. James frowned at that gesture and Sirius, who had been sitting quietly near his extroverted friend, furrowed his eyebrows at the action, but remained quiet.

A few weeks into the new school routine, Sirius found himself telling the marauders about his encounter with the girl during the ball in summer, followed by his revolted opinions surrounding her sitting with the snakes.

'' Not once did she seem like the rest of `em. I s`pose it was all in there hidden. All that time.'' He commented distastefully. As much as he pretented to now despise the new-come girl, his friends could see how affected he was by her being a Slytherin. It was as if, that small feeble stream of hope that she could`ve been friends with him, all dispersed once he saw her with that grotesque emerald green colored robe.

Eloise would try to greet Sirius every Potions class and sometimes in the hallways, but in vain, as he blatantly ignored her. His friends however often times would say a 'hello' back to her to save her the embarrassment of her being completely ignored.

Weeks later, she came to realize that her greeting attempts were not being reciprocated and so she eventually gave up on him. She strenuously let herself be taken under the wing of the Slytherins. After all, it was them she shared a common room with right?

That, however did not mean she could finally say she had found her people. With each passing day, she would be reminded time after time the reason why this house was so hated. Most Slytherins were too stuck up to even glance at muggleborns, or to ever apologize for something they did wrong. No wonder they all had such a bad reputation. She experienced this on her own skin when she was once being interrogated by her so called friends for reasons she was hanging out with 'mud-bloods'.

'' We were just studying. I was helping Lily with her birthchart, plus she's super nice. That doen`t mean we`re friends.'' She tried defending herself in front of half of the Slytherin students. Even though she started to consider Lily her friend, she wouldn`t dare say it out loud under these circumstances.

That night, remained forever scarred inher brain, as well as her body. The Slytherins saw fit to 'punish' her 'traitorous' actions and, just as taught from their parents, used some sort of stinging spell on the girl, that left her with a fresh wound on her arm.

It was a few months well into school, and the girl had no choice but to comply to the bullying of her own housemates. Not that it happened so often, however, she felt like a prisoner, always being watched by them, abused verbally and reminded not to associate herself with 'mutts'. Though she grew up in a pureblood family herself, she never experienced real school life until now. Her parents never forbade her from talking to muggles, moreover, encouraged her to learn their way of living, to see how they exist without magic. She had a balance around the area. Not obsessed with them but not hateful of them either.

Everytime Lily came up to greet her or ask her about her day, she had to sadly ignore her or keep the conversation as short as possible, seeing as her housemates would have a go at her again. And she was right. She even sensed a joy in all of them whenever she was inflicted in pain, and her cries were not helping her, but rather fueling their resentment towards her.

She had been desperately searching for a safe space for her to hide into, where she could let her tears and sadness out. And that happened to be the bathroom on the second floor, which was already with its own resident, a ghost who seemed to be weeping just as much as her nowadays.

She found the presence of the little girl quite comforting, since she was also sharing her sentiments. Though sometimes she did wish she could be fully alone, she learned to accept the phantomatic presence.

Her crying sessions would usually last hours after dark, with her only returning back to her dorm when most of the students were already fast asleep.

While she was making her way to the dungeons quietly, she heard footsteps behind her. Checking for any signs of a teacher of prefect, she simply couldn`t see anyone. With a new sense of fear, she was hurrying towards the common room, when all of a sudden she felt a hand grabbing at her forearm, stopping her from going anywhere.

Instinctively, she let out a scream out of shock, her heart beating faster than it ever has in her life.

'' Shh... You`re gonna wake the whole castle up.'' And as if out of thin air, none other than Sirius Black appeared before her. More confused than ever, she tried grasping her head, not knowing what just happened.

'' You- out of nowhere-h-how?!'' She breathed out words between each exhale.

'' I`ll explain it later. But more importantly, what are YOU doing here at this hour, and almost every night?'' Eloise was trying to come up with an excuse but then frowned at the words spoken by the boy. '' How do you know I come out here almost every night?'' The Slytherin interrogated smartly.

Sirius, seemingly speechless, gulped as quietly as possible, forming a believable answer to the girl, without giving away their beloved bewitched map.

'' I`ve-... Seen you other times as well. Just didn`t want to come and bother you.''

''Oh.'' That`s all she could say, hoping she was now free to go, seeing as she was becoming tired and needed as much sleep as she could get.

'' Well? What are you up to!?'' He pressed impatiently.

Scoffing, she crossed her arms and scowled at him, something she picked on from her housemates. '' Why should I explain myself to you?'' Acting all tough and mighty, she forgot one minor detail. Her eyes gave away everything.

Sirius was scanning her face, not even flinching at her cold stares.

'' Have you been crying?'' '' WHAT?! You`re honestly so ridiculous. You ignore me all these months, giving me the cold shoulder as if we`ve never met. And I-'' her voice cracked, which took both students by surprise. If she was able to conceal her sadness before, right now a new wave of tears were coming in strong, as she was no longer able to control them.

So she simply allowed each tear to flow down her soft skin, and blinking madly trying to clear up her vision, she proceeded to continue. '' You have NO idea what I`ve been through. And-'' Another voice crack paused her speech. ''- to think I was so happy to come here knowing I`ll have you as a friend...'' She shook her head, simply letting her angry tears take over her as she was starting to shake.

Sirius was speechless. He had no idea what to do at this moment. He was never the right type of person to comfort another, and in this exact moment he was reminded yet again of his incapability of it. So instead of sitting there like an idiot, he decided on a few pats on the shoulder, along with a bit of caressing them.

Eloise was bawling her eyes out in front of Sirius Black, and she was fighting against her own emotions, attempting at caging them inside her. Minutes later, she was finally able to calm down, with only a few sobs here and there. Her breathing was also slowing down, leaving space for her to blink any last tears away from her vision.

Sniffling, she shrugged Sirius` hand off her and dusted away at her clothes.

'' Goodnight.''  Not leaving any room for Sirius to speak, she swiftly turned back around and jogged down dungeons, the Gryffindor being left there in complete shock.

The morning news was the first priority of the day for the marauders, and for Sirius, it was the moment he told me what had happened the night prior.

'' What do you reckon happens to her?'' Asked James, who seemed to be quite involved in this new matter of business that revolved around the Slytherin girl.

'' Couldn`t exactly find out. She was almost choking on her tears so she didn`t have any room for an explanation.'' Half joked Sirius, which caused the werewolf sitting next to him to hit him in the stomach with his elbow.

'' OW. MOONY. IT WAS A JOKE ALL RIGHT? Ugh you and your bony arms'' He grumbled in pain, rubbing at his stomach.

'' I say we go and ask her.'' Shrugged Remus simply, sipping on his pumpkin juice and reading the Daily Prophet.

'' Yeah, that is a good idea.'' Chimed in Peter, who out of all, he seemed the least interested in the matters that involved the girl, but for the sake of his friends, tried to appear useful.

James, who was sitting in front of Sirius, had a clear view of the girl, who was squished between some Slytherin boys, and seemed to be feeling uncomfortable. Sirius followed his gaze, also observing the little hints that might be an indicator as to what happens to her when she enters the coomon room.

The marauders were all revising for a Transfiguration in the warm common room, when Lily and her pals entered all chatting worriedly, instantly getting the attention of the nosy teen boys.

''Lily, my angel. What is the matter?'' James found himself gazing up at the redhead, grinning her way. Her face scrunched up at the nickname, but approached the boys anyway.

'' Eloise, she was crying in the bathroom again. Said she had stinging pain all over her arms. Those heartless idiots..''

'' What are you ever talking about?'' Sirius asked more confused than ever. ''Listen. I shouldn`t be telling you this since it is not my business. But I am worried about her and I trust that in your most absurd and stupid ways possible, you could help her.'' She started, getting their full attention, even Remuses, who until now was still reading from his textbook, but now it sat closely in his lap.

'' She said the other Slytherins used a stinging jinx on her whenever she was seen talking to me or other... Muggleborns. Said they were giving her proper 'education' and she told me we can no longer be friends because she feared going back to her dorm.'' She finished sadly.

'' What the bloody...-'' '' Godric`s knickers I-'' '' We have to help her!'' Exclaimed Sirius, ignoring the weird stares from his friends for his choice of exclamation words. '' Yes but how exactly? We can`t exactly fight off the entire Slytherin house!'' Exclaimed Peter in fear of what his brave friends might be thinking as a solution.

'' Oh but Pete... Can`t we?'' Smirked James, who placed an arm around his chubby friend`s shoulder. '' We are the MARAUDERS. We love a challenge. And this certainly is a big one. We will prank them ALL.'' He concluded the leader,  winking at Lily who rolled her eyes and called on her friends to go up the dorms.

Sirius was satisfied with his friend`s response, nodding eagerly and ruffling Remus` hair in happiness and excitement.

'' Calm yourself Pads before I plant my elbow up your-'' '' OK GOT IT.'' They all laughed at their antics, and began planning their newest and probably biggest project, with homeworks and textbooks seemingly forgotten on the side. Eloise tried to spend as much time away from the dungeons as possible. So she found the library to be one of the best spots for finishing up her homeworks, doing her lectures and being left alone. There was also the fact that she was able to talk to other students from different houses without fearing that a Slytherin might spot her and report it back.

She was returning to her common one afternoon when she came across 4 figures standing ahead of her, at the end of the hallway. Her heart jumped a little, scared they might`ve been the Slytherins but to her relief, she was a reflection of gold and instantly knew those were just Gryffindors. Inhaling deeply, she worked herself up to get the courage to pass through the group since they were in the way. However, as she aproached, she noticed who the group actually was.  

'' Good afternoon, Montalli.'' Greeted James politely. '' Uh, hello.'' She waved shyly, splitting the 4 and trying to find her way out of the hallway but a hand caught her in the same style it did that night.

'' Why the rushing? Running away from someone perhaps?'' Sirius asked intrigued.

'' No-no. I have to get back to my dorm. That`s all.''

'' We wanted to ask you something.'' Imposed James, in a serious tone, unlike him.

Eloise was dragged, almost unwillingly, into an empty classroom where she was interrogated by the 4 teen boys, each taking their turn to question her. She even shed a few tears towards the end of the discussion, yet again unable to control them. What warmed her heart and gave her some sort of comfort was when they told her she was going to be sitting with them during meal times.

She couldn`t really understand why they asked her all this, though they did say if anything were to happen to come and find one of them and the rest would follow. Whilst she was pouring her heart out, she often times felt Sirius inching closer towards her, placing a reassuring hand on her knee or shoulder, which in return made the girl a bit flustered.

After the confessions were made, she solemnly told them she really had to get back to her dorm, so they all offered to escort her there. Positioned in the center of the group, with Sirius and James on both her sides, she felt happy and safe for the first time here at Hogwarts.

Sirius took the indicators that she was feeling better as a sign to confidently grab her hand in his, holding her palm and giving their now locked hands a natural swing whilst they were making their way to the 'snake`s pit'.

What made them pause their walk was a group of Slytherins,  with an ugly sneer on their face. '' What do you think you`re doing down here? You blood traitors?'' Spat Mulciber, one of the students to blame for Eloise`s new forming scars.

'' Escorting a young beautiful lady to her dorms to ensure she arrives safely, something YOU couldn`t be bothered with it seems.'' Snapped Sirius, scanning the venomous students and noticing Snape was amongst them. He got excited silently at this opportunity to bully him.

'' What`s wrong Snivellus? Got jealous Eloise was spending more time with Evans than you?'' He teased, knowing damn well this was a tender subject.

'' Shut your mouth, Black. Leave, all of you before we decide to curse ya.'' He threatened, gripping his now pulled out wand, initiating the same action from the other Slytherins.

Eloise was grateful for what they have done, but she knew that this was not going to end well, and since it was because of her they all came down here, she took a few steps towards her fellow housemates, which in return shocked them at her unexpected actions, but quickly recomposed, wands at the ready to attack the Gryffindors. Sirius and James both frowned at her, motioning for her to go back to their side, but she simply shook her head.

'' Thank you boys, really. But let`s not cause a big fight alright? Have a good evening.'' She said her goodbyes, in hopes of dispersing the tension, but the moment she turned her back, she heard a spell being cast, and fortunately, or not, it was not casted towards her.

Avery, the third Slytherin that was present, directed a jinx towards one of the marauders, which was the trigger for a duel to break loose. Eloise was behind all the comotion, sitting there mouth agape and her heart pumping blood faster. She didn`t know what to do, should she join and protect her friends? Or just sit there awkwardly and try to stop them, fully knowing she wouldn`t be able to do that.

Attempting to shout a 'stop' once in a while, but in vain, she only hoped this would stop soon enough. A few jinxes later, some extra hands and antlers growing uncontrollably out of Mulciber`s head, the marauders all snickered at their results. She took one glance at them to make sure they were all right, and it was safe to say they seemed to have experience in duels, seeming as they all looked fine, with the exception of Sirius who seemed to be annoyed at his now 'ruined hair' and was trying to fix it. She smiled at that, which caused Sirius to look at her and wink.

The Slytherins had to rush to the infirmary to get their abnormalities off them, which meant Eloise saw a perfect escape for her to run up her dorm and lock herself in the safety of it.

The next morning, she remembered how the marauders Insisted for her to join them for breakfast, knowing full well it would cause an ugly reaction from the serpents. She timidly entered the Great Hall, in hopes that she might be able to go unnoticed by the loud group of mischivieous boys, but no luck, as she was spotted moments after she entered.

'' Oi, Montalli, here, here.'' Shouted Sirius, waving his hand and indicating to an open seat between him and that tall boy, Remus. Eloise looked to her left, noticing the Slytherins already whispering to each other as if planning something, but she jogged towards the marauders, making herself as comfortable as one could be around those loud baboons.

'' How did you sleep? Did they bother you?'' Sirius asked concerned, but for odd reasons not touching her as he used to do other times.

'' No, I was in my dorm the whole night. They can`t come up there,y`know. But I wanted to thank you guys for what you did. You truly are brave as they say.'' She complimented, making Sirius look down at his food to try to hide what looked like a blush.

'' Why thank you. But that was nothing. Can`t wait for you and others to see what we`ve planned.'' James informed excitedly, rubbing his hands in anticipation.

Eloise, confused, raised a questioning brow at him, silently asking for a further explanation, but none came as he dove in his breakfast leaving there dumbfounded.

But her wish was about to come true as Mulciber and Snape were fastly approaching the Gryffindors table, specifically for the girl, and when Sirius noticed her heart beating faster, he smirked the Slytherin`s way, whispering a ' relax' to the girl, which wasn`t the most reassuring at the moment.

'' So now you`re ditching your OWN HOUSE, to sit with with these?!'' Mulciber argued angrily, throwing the girl and the boys one of the most venomous looks she had ever seen.

'' What`s it to ya mate? She can sit with whomever she likes yeah, now c`mon leave us, you sort of interrupted our morning chat.'' James waved dismissively, only angering the two boys.

'' Move. Come on get UP.'' Mulciber persisted, directing his full attention on the girl who was shrinking in attempt at becoming invisible. She couldn`t understand how the rest of the marauders were so calm, and even more, smiling. They seemed to have everything under control, which further confused the spooked girl. Feeling a new wave of courage wash over her, she made direct eye contact with the aggressive Slytherin, and squinting her eyes, she said lowly: '' No...''

Mulciber and Snape, shocked at this newfound rebellion, decided to act physically. So then Mulciber went for it and to grab her firmly by her forearms, dragging her towards the green table.

'' You... You.. Associating with such beings. You`re insulting our HOUSE. Ruining our reputation... Can`t believe you dared do that aware of the consequences that lay ahead...'' He started spitting, but towards the end trailed his words, noticing almost all of the Great Hall was staring at him, laughing and pointing his way. This only railed him more as he continued to drag her towards the final destination, but something felt weird. He glanced down, maybe he had some stains on his white shirt, however something even worse was going on.

His pants were laying on the ground, exposing his boxers and his pale scrawny legs. The marauders let out the loudest barks of laughs, pointing at him shamelessly and therefore redirecting the attention of even more students on the hot-headed Slytherin, who had let go of the girl in an attempt to pull his pants up, but due to the anger blinding him and the attention of the laughing students, couldn`t successfully do so, without almost tripping and falling face first on the ground.

Eloise let out a laugh as well, deciding he was too busy trying to scurry away from the shame and went back to sit with the Marauders, who laughed and explained to her how they came up with a charm that whenever someone were to touch her, their pants would fall off.

Over the next few days, life was good for the girl. She was no longer afraid to speak to Lily, or even the marauders, knowing that she was protected by this charm of the boys.

Other instances happened when Snape was the one trying to lead her back to their shared common room whilst she was in the middle of the hallway with Sirius, but the same thing happened to him, causing Sirius to have a go at him in the midst of all the laughter.  

'' Oi Snivellus. I think you dropped something. Oh by the way nice knickers you`ve got there. You shopping from the ladies section?''

It only took this much for the former bullies to drop their interest in the girl and to avoid her at all costs like she was the walking plague. She couldn`t be more grateful for it, so she wished to thank them.

She was walking outside, on a sunny warm day, searching for the boisterous teens, but she could only find the black haired boy, so, with a grin, she approached the peaceful Gryffindor, who was lying on the grass, seemingly taking a nap.

'' Hey.'' She greeted softly, not wishing to disturb the peaceful state he was in. She crouched down next to him, so she was at the same level. Opening one eye only, searching for the intruder, he found the girl that had been making his heart rate go faster each time he was around her, so with a soft grunt, he opened both eyes and propped himself up, resting his upper body in his elbows.

'' Hello there sweet pumpkin.''

Eloise scrunched her nose at the nickname, snickering at it before reminding herself why she came up to him in the first place.

'' So... You see, I wanted to thank you for everything you`ve done for me. I have no idea how one manages such a charm but, I appreciate it and I am glad you`ve helped me.'' She confessed shyly, feeling the grass between her fingers.

'' You want to thank us... or me personally?'' He flirted cheekily, wiggling his eyebrows, causing the girl to blush at his inuendos and scoff playfully.

'' Well obviously all of you. You all had your part in it.'' She decided to continue timidly. '' But... I suppose you more. You seemed to be by my side more often than not.'' Rubbing her neck Ina nervous manner, she looked around her, to avoid staring into Sirius` eyes, who were burning on the side of her face.

Sirius Black seizing the opportunity, smirked and moved his hair out of his face.

'' Yeah, well. I know one way you can repay me for what I`ve done.'' He suggested cockily.

'' Oh yeah, and how might that be?'' She caught on, flirting back slightly, which was something unusual for her. Sirius inched closer to her, Eloise following his lead and eventually being only a few inches away from eachother, to the point the girl was able to feel his soft breath hitting her skin.

'' Move a little closer...'' He whispered, closing his eyes in the process, causing her to do the same thing. Eventually, they locked their lips in a sweet, short kiss, Sirius having placed his palm on the side of her face.

Pulling away shortly after, they both smiled at each other, and just when they were about to go in for a second time, Eloise started giggling uncontrollably at Sirius, which made him furrow his eyebrows questioningly. But when she pointed down at his pants, which left his legs bare and briefs in plain view.

'' Oh nice knickers you`ve got there.'' She imitated his voice mockingly, the same tone he used on Severus a few days prior. Sirius rolled his eyes, but nonetheless grabbed the girl`s face again, bringing it closer to his. '' Oh shut up.'' He grunted before smashing his lips on hers a second round.

[apprehensiveacorn]

ACORN IT'S BAD

THE PROGRAMMINAGDAODIHGAOIDSHAISHGOAHODIAHDGOA SPARROWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWAIHGAOIDHGAOIHGOAIHWOIHWOIHOIHQOQHROWIEHOEHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

I’m gonna be honest, I’ve been doing nothing but reading demon slayer fanfiction for the last few days, and I popped in to see how Tumblr was, and I saw this ask, and I was like, “Oh, I missed an episode. Time to go watch that!”

And HOLY HELL, HALF AN HOUR???? We have been spoiled, gang. We hold hands with an equal amount of freakout on our faces. Pacing, thinking, gnawing on my nails

Before I go all theory-deary, the MUSIC BRO. OH MY. The music was so fucjing cool!!!!! Cool music, cool visuals, cool tone of voice, EVERYTHING WAS COOL!!!! And the shrieker at the end? AGEJKAKWNDKIWUSBEJWN

Watch Sparrow become Pama from Minecraft Storymode (that giant fucking robot that mind controlled people w/ those redstone button looking contraptions)

This episode was also really heckin’ interesting for other reasons, too

It seems like the Sparrow we know and love has not been as fully integrated into the mechanical thought processes of a copper golem as we thought.

So, the new copper golem body, on a very basic and obvious—though no less important—level, functions with the same goal as a human body; to keep the body alive.

Second thing I noticed, it seems as if the copper golem’s body functions operate using a proper ai system. An artificial intelligence with a purpose, but still specific wants and needs. However, while a human’s body cannot think for the human, Sparrow’s body’s ai system seems like it can.

While, for humans, if we are hungry, we—ourselves—think of ways to get food, whether that’s a trip to the grocery store or an elaborate trap to catch rabbit or dear. For Sparrow, however, when his body requires something that he does not have (ie. Copper for sustenance) it thinks and problem solves on its own, only giving the proper conscience (Sparrow) instructions on how to get what it needs. It’d be like your body telling you which screws and where for a shelf.

This explains the “part of me is so unsure, but the other part of me knows exactly what to do”

It could also explain the “Objective Updated” text. The body’s AI believes that the conscience (Sparrow) is not willing to put needs over wants, so it influences the conscience (Sparrow) to do so. ie, “dig” and “be more efficient”.

Almost like a parent directing a child. Just, way more controlling lmao

Sparrow was planning to go see people, but he was out of food, so he would have been hungry the whole time. In need of sustenance = not operating at full capability = higher chance of death or failure = worst case scenario.

Then there’s “Be More Efficient”

Not fully efficient = wasted energy. Wasted energy = more sustenance consumed to make up for it. More sustenance consumed = less in reserve = more work to get more.

Efficiency is good. It means doing the most work with the least amount of energy possible. Efficiency is optimal. That’s why Sparrow’s body wants Sparrow to act with the the utmost efficiency.

It’s a self defense mechanism employed by Sparrow’s mechanical copper golem body.

This—theoretically—could affect his sense of self, his sense of reasoning, maybe even his independence. Because why would he have to think much if his body has already done it for him? Why would he want to spend his thought energy on making new machines when his body is already working it out for him, feeding him instructions, giving him orders? Hypothetically, probably won’t happen in canon, it would be very interesting if Sparrow created a sort-of codependency on his own body. If someone wrote a fic on that I would implode

Idk if I’ve explained this well or not, but to make up for the four (💀💀) days it took to word it well-enough, take these screenshots!

[manyothermusingsofmine]

Openly Kept Secret || Drabble

Fandom: Ace Attorney   Wordcount: 3550 Warnings: Nothing, just some feelsy things. Summary: Denial is only going to take you so far, Klavier, at some point you’re bound to realise that the people around you have got you figured out more than you think. One could even say it’ll be when you’re caught up in a world of uphill climbing, with tears on your mind and nothing is rhyming, but thats neither here nor there, is it?

--------------------------------------

1. "No, I'm not doing that."

Klavier leaned back into his chair. While the person on the other end of the phone conversation went on and on about one of the singles of the band, Klavier was casually study his nails to come to the conclusion that they could probably use a fresh coat of black polish.

"That's not how copyright law works. It's about pattern similarity, not having one singular note in a vaguely similar spot."

He was vaguely aware of the knock on his office door, but since he was still half listening to the rambling on the other end of the line he didn’t verbally reply. If it was more important than this phone call, and it probably was, they could come in anyway. He didn’t mind that much.

"Yeah well, I'm not just a musician; I'm a lawyer, which one of us do you think actually knows what they're talking about?"

He felt a light double tap on his arm, looking up to see a file held out to him and gently taking it, mouthing "thank you" to Mary who-

Was honestly looking rather frazzled. This was the first time he had seen her today as they had both been rather busy, but she looked like this Monday already had taken up a whole month's worth of energy. And if he remembered her schedule right, she wouldn't be off for several hours still. She was already making her way back  to the door.

"... Yeah, well, if you actually have anything worthwhile, take it to court. I'll see you there. Bye,” he interrupted the guy, before immediately hanging up. That whole conversation was a waste of five minutes, and there was a more pressing matter at hand so he very determinedly shifted his priorities.

"Mary?"

She halted just short of the office door, clutching the files she was still holding to her chest in some attempt to keep herself together. She had actually hoped to quietly slip away like how she had come in, because she didn't want to show how Klavier's simple statement of "thank you" had hit a very frayed nerve.

It wasn't the fault of the other prosecutors in the building, not even of the ones who had a tough reputation. Oh, no, it was the general public of clients and witnesses that she had been dealing with through out the day; the yelling, the cursing, the blatant disrespect of some of them, the unbridled anger all directed her way over rules and regulations she had absolutely no control over. It had all started to pile up in a big heap of stress.

"Are you okay?"

".... No," she admitted quietly, although her voice was cracking on the singular word as her facade of professionalism was quickly starting to fade. She took off her glasses onehandedly, setting them down on a nearby surface and pinched the bridge of her nose with her now free hand, letting out a shaky breath she'd been holding.

"What time is it?" she asked softly as she heard his footsteps approach towards her.

"4:30 pm."

"Well... fuck. Sure doesn’t feel like it."

 He paused for a second. Wow, if it made her curse like that, it was absolutely not a good day. He shook the thought of himself and walked over to her anyway. She set down the files and took a moment to just breathe and try to pull herself together when he placed his hand on her upper arm. He didn't pull, tug or force her to turn around in anyway. It was nothing more than a very gentle and light touch;  almost as light as the double tap she had given to get his attention for the case file he needed.

It was completely of her own free will that she turned around and accepted the embrace he offered, pressing her cheek against his shoulder while she placed her arms around his waist.

"You want to talk about it?"

"Do you want the long story, or the summary?"

"Whatever you're comfortable with."

"... Slept through my alarm, couldn't find my contact lenses, barely found my glasses instead, broke two hair ties trying to get my hair in this semiprofessional bun, tripped and fell on my way to my car, got here barely in time, and then got yelled at all day by random members of the public who think I have any say in the law or the court room times set by the judge. And I feel stupid for being upset over stupid little things-"

"Hey.” He had been gently rubbing her back in a sweet, supportive manner while he let her vent about her day. However, he decided to interrupt when her upset turned towards herself. Although he was firm, he kept his voice soft to avoid sounding like he was scolding her- he just didn’t want her to spiral into talking down to herself like she did.

"You're not stupid for being upset. No matter how little, it becomes a lot to take when little things pile up over the course of a day like that."

He could feel her tremble a little in his arms, knowing that her composure was about to break completely and that she needed somewhere safe to do so; Only if she actually let out the frustration that had been building over the day, would she actually be able to pull herself together for the remainder of the workday. He carefully considered what to actually say. It had to be something that she probably hadn't heard all day, between being yelled at and withdrawing into her own emotions like he knew she had.

"You’re doing an amazing job, Mary.”

Yup, that did it. Tears rapidly filled her eyes and started pouring down her face as she pressed her face back into his shoulder, tightening her grip on him. He just held her, softly stroking her hair in a soothing manner while letting her cry it out. He’d gladly provide her a rather literal shoulder to cry on, even though he hated seeing her so upset. However, the whirl storm of emotions seemed to die down just as quickly as it started, with only a few small sobs and hiccups coming out of her when there was another knock at the door.

"Gavin-san, have you found the-"

Simon didn't wait for an answer before opening the door either, but took one look at the scene he had clearly interrupted; looking from the prosecutor to the administrative assistant, and back, before just dryly stating:

 "I shall continue this inquiry at a later moment, good day." And promptly left.

 "Wow," Klavier huffed somewhere between disbelief and annoyance. "Twisted samurai; more like terrible timing samurai. TTS."

He heard a huffy laugh from Mary, and found a small smile curling around his lips as well. Good. He'd rather have her laughing than crying.

"I thought you were sad?"

"Text To Speech Samurai."

"Fitting for his mannerisms."

"Klavier," she laughed softly, though in the back of her mind both wondering and appreciating that he always seemed to help bring her mood back around. They slowly released each other from the embrace.

"I should probably go check what he wants. You can stay here and recoup for a bit before going back. If anyone asks where you were, I needed your help to find some random file in this mess, okay?"

"... Thank you. For everything."

"You're welcome."

 He loudly knocked on Simon's door, purposefully waiting for the other prosecutor verbally stating that he could come in before doing so.

"That's how you properly enter someone's office, by the way," because he absolutely wasn't going to pass up on that opportunity. Simon didn’t even bother looking up from the file he was reading, hardly impressed with his coworker’s pettiness.

“That wastes time,” he simply stated, turning a page in the file.

"Entschuldigung," Klavier remarked dryly and with a certain level of snark, "didn't realise that seconds are more important than manners to you."

Simon raised an eyebrow, before finally taking his gaze away from the details in front of him and looking at the other prosecutor. He looked Klavier directly in the eyes, before looking down at the shoulder where the fabric of Klavier’s blazer was sporting a small, darkened stain. Then he looked back up, a glint in his eyes as he knew exactly what to say back.

"You never care about anyone coming into your office without waiting for your verbal say-so, ordinarily, so please enlighten me; how I was supposed to be aware that in this particular instant you were compro-“

"What did you want, again?" Klavier interrupted, not wanting Simon to drag the conversation in the direction he knew it was going, and getting irritated with the smug look on his coworker’s face.

"Have you found file AT-34 yet?"

"No. I was looking for it before some manager from some random band interrupted me to whine about how the Gavinners “totally plagiarized” some single of theirs."

Simon looked up from his file, actually rather intrigued by that and gazing upon Klavier with at least mild interest. Klavier blinked for a moment, but then ended up grinning. Of course Blackquill would take interest in whether there was a legit claim to that or not.

"He's so far from right it's almost funny. It's not like they have a patent on any particular music note, no one does. So I told him to take it to court. Funnily enough I don't think he'll do that, trivial lawsuits don’t play well in court."

“Shame. I would find great entertainment in seeing you shred a trivial lawsuit like that to pieces,” Simon said, a small amused smile on his face.

Klavier had already turned to walk out of his coworker’s office, when something sprung to mind and he turned back around, looking over at Blackquill who had turned back to his file reading.

"… I'll try and find that file now. Also, for your information, Mary and I are just friends. I would appreciate it if you stopped reading things that aren't there in every gesture I make towards her."

Quirking an eyebrow once more, Simon watched Klavier leave, before letting out a deep sigh. Sometimes he wondered if Klavier was actually that dense about it, or being deliberately obtuse; the difference was hard to tell.

"Keep stating that aloud, Gavin-san. Mayhap one day you will end up actually fooling someone aside from yourself," he mumbled to the empty room.

 2.

"Herr Forehead!"

Apollo let out several indescribable noises as he panic grabbed the smartphone he dropped out of midair, turning to the voice in a slightly annoyed matter. Could Klavier just never start a conversation with him normally? Was that really too much to ask for?

"Prosecutor Gavin, you're going to give me a heart attack one of these days."

"Ja, not the first time I've been accused of that; guilty as charged."

In a sigh that much more felt like his soul was escaping the confines of his body, Apollo turned his phone so it was the proper way up, and decided to look at the schedule. He was better of trying to figure out when their next trial was about to start, than trying to figure out the prosecutor he kept facing in the court room.

Klavier was complicated, to say the least. Nothing ever really seemed to bother him, and Apollo couldn't really figure out if it was all just some elaborate act or not. His bracelet never seemed to react to Klavier in any matter he was used to, and he had for now decided that it was probably because aside from a prosecutor, Klavier was a showman. He was pretty sure showbiz people were a lot better at masking their true intentions than anyone else, made sense for the profession.

His thoughts were rather bluntly interrupted when he felt the weight of an arm over his shoulder, something he was quite certain he hadn't put in some kind of request for.

"So what are you up to? Worrying that wonderful big brain of yours about how to get to the truth this time?"

"Not really," Apollo replied flatly, shrugging off the prosecutor's arm.

"Just trying to figure out when our trial is supposed to be presented for the judge."

"Worried we have a scheduling conflict?" Klavier almost seemed to purr, and Apollo could feel himself in that moment being absolutely fed up with the antics of the man beside him.

He couldn't tell with Klavier, in the slightest, what he was supposed to take as a joke and what was supposed to be genuine flirting. It didn't help matters that Klavier seemed to act this way with nearly everyone he came across; that only made it harder to decide if he was just naturally like that or if there was some other kind of intent behind it. Frankly, Apollo had enough of being pinballed around like this with all the mixed signals that just seemed to radiate of the prosecutor he kept running into in the courtrooms. He just wanted some actual clarity on what he was supposed to think about this.

"Can you stop?" he asked, more briskly than he had intended as he saw the other man flinch ever so slightly. Apollo sighed; he didn’t want to beat around the bush, but he didn’t really want to end up hurting the other’s feelings either, so he had to figure out some kind of way to put how he was feeling.

"I don't- You confuse me, Klavier, and not in a good way. You're so hard to get a read on; I can't tell what's you just being nice and supportive of your friends and what's supposed to be you looking for anything more, but, either way-" he cut Klavier off as the latter took a breath to say something

"- I'm not going to be anyone's rebound, okay?"

"It- Wait, what?" Klavier asked incredulous, completely taken off guard by Apollo's last statement.

"Rebound? What are you talking about? I'll have you know that I haven't had a serious relationship in years!"

"…. That’s really not the counterargument you think it is."

"I mean," Klavier started, exasperated, "There's nothing to rebound from. Really, I don't even know how you got that in your head. Do I really seem so irresponsible with people's feelings to you?"

There it was again, that ever so slight tense feeling in his wrist. Something wasn't adding up, but Apollo legitimately couldn't even tell what sentence made his bracelet react. Klavier just huffed, either annoyed or slightly hurt- another difference Apollo just couldn't seem to pick up on, but he quietly hoped it wasn’t the latter. Klavier did have a way of always seeming like he bounced back immediately even from an awkward confrontation like this.

"Anyway, you can stop pretending you can't figure out the schedule. Our trial is at 10 am tomorrow."

... Okay, touché. Guess neither of them were having a wonderful time in this conversation, or maybe Klavier couldn’t fully and easily shake everything thrown at him either.

"Look, I'm just saying, I can't tell when you're being fully genuine about your intent. You make flirty remarks to just about anyone, up to and including your ex-"

"Oh, mein Gott, not you too!” Klavier huffed, cutting Apollo off in the process,  “What do you all want from me, to either disrespect her or pretend she doesn't exist, for, what exactly, having the audacity to date me back in high school?"

"N-no," Apollo reacted, though he felt like he was fighting a losing battle while trying to not steer a derailing freight train directly into Klavier’s emotions, "But-"

"But, nothing. I'm not going to change how I treat her just because people can't accept that she and I are friends. Just friends."

This time the reaction of Apollo’s bracelet felt like the bite of static electricity, the feeling in a split second shooting from his wrist to the top of his shoulder, and the muscles of his arm involuntarily reacted to the stimulus, making him hiss an ‘ow’ under his breath in response.

"Are you okay?" Klavier asked, his annoyance clearing up for a moment and turning to worry.

"... I'm fine. Listen, I'm really, really not trying to deliberately upset you, but can we- Can we please just keep this friendly, between us? There’s…. There's a lot I still have to sort out, myself. I'm not…. Looking, for anything other than friends right now."

"…. Ah. Understood. Sorry."

"It's fine. You couldn't have known."

Apollo finally looked at Klavier, watching him stick his hands into the pockets of his black pants before wandering off and stating that they would see each other tomorrow.  He sighed, rubbing the spot right below his bracelet. It really was a weird reaction; static electricity really wasn't what it normally felt like when he caught someone in a lie. And when exactly had that reaction happened? He huffed, pressing his index finger to his forehead in thought, as his gaze was firmly locked on the floor below.

"...Who are you lying to, prosecutor Gavin?" Apollo muttered under his breath. "It's not me. I'm well aware of what it feels like when people lie to me; this ain’t it. When did it…”

Just friends. Just friends... ?

"..... Are you lying... to yourself?"

3.

Another balled up piece of paper was thrown in the general direction of the trash can; joining a handful of its siblings on the floor as it hit the rim and bounced back down.

"Great. On top of anything else; writer's block. Musician's block. Whatever," Klavier groaned in irritation, leaning back in the chair of his home recording studio while folding his hands behind his head. Maybe it was better if he got up and walked around. How long had he been cooped away in here, anyway? He stretched, and audibly heard something crack.

"Well, if that's not a sign I should move for a bit, I don't know what is."

So he got up, made himself some food, and tried to think of where to find inspiration. If he wasn't writing, performing, recording, working or in therapy, then he was alone with his thoughts. Especially since Mary really couldn't come over today.

Or, rather, shouldn't. The last time she had been there she was so exhausted that she had spent most of her time coiled up in a corner of his couch, and had lost the battle with her sleepiness for at least three quarters of that time. He just wanted her to get some proper rest, without spreading herself so thin.

 He knew fully well she would still come over and keep him company if he asked, but he didn't want to ask.

'I hope they're not hounding her about spending time with me,' he thought to himself, taking another bite of his food. People had been describing enough feelings to their bond as it stood, so he could only imagine the side glances Mary got now if she admitted to firmly standing by his side. Or maybe they didn't, because they realized that the support was needed? Other people had slowly started to show up as well, seemingly bolstered by Mary's initiative.

Anyway. What could he do to find some inspiration?

He scrolled through his phone, his list of music there probably spanning several miles long. Maybe he could find something to cover, just go through the motions of playing the guitar and singing and recording and not having to worry about the lyrics or the pacing. Kind of cutting out the middle man so the 'writer's' block didn't have a grip. Yeah, that seemed like a decent enough idea.

He just put on his shuffle, but already not vibing with the first song he just skipped through them.

"No. No. Absolutely not."

A sudden noise outside of his home pulled his attention away for a moment, when the soft tones of a piano filled his ears and the lyrics kicked in. He paused. Listened. He hadn't heard this particular song in years, but hearing it now seemed to find a very, very deeply buried feeling within and brought it to the surface.

He pulled the buds out of his ears, thinking for a moment and tapping his fingers in a rhythmic tempo on a nearby flat surface. Klavier then moved back to his studio, taking his guitar and immediately started to record and play.

It took everything he had to actually stick to the lyrics that were given, which was harder than it seemed since her name was so similar to it. And after a while, he absolutely started to slip up. Tears were starting to burn in his eyes as he pushed himself to just finish the darn song. When all of it was laid out and recorded, he sat there what he felt like was several hours. But it was only after a few minutes that his hand moved to the pc mouse, and with a few clicks the recording was deleted.

She deserved better than a cover of a cover.

"Scheiße," he let out in a shaky huff.

 They'd been right all along, hadn't they?

[voluntaryvictim]

ok i’m gonna go on a bit of a rant here about viva las vengeance and its music video so if you don’t care about patd you don’t have to read this lmao

as a former massive patd fan who started listening to them before i was 13 i unfortunately know that band like the back of my hand. listened to pretty much every song knows the history of the band etc. the development (and essentially downfall) of the band is pretty clear to anyone even those that aren’t big fans. it only seems to be getting worse and less genuine with each album release. extremely true for viva las vengeance. i like many other people thought the song not only just sounded bad but was a step down from the already hated pray for the wicked album. not a good look for urie for sure especially after a 4 year break (bar that. song he did with taylor swift)

but it wasn’t only just the clashy sound that i found unpleasant there was just a certain. lack of integrity which isn’t new to panic in recent years but it was particularly evident with vlv. the lyrics were their usual “quirkiness” seen in previous music however they just didn’t feel genuine. and when they weren’t like this it was clear that they were a jab at “cancel culture” and the negative response towards urie (“kids with guns” “buried alive”) and possibly his old band members (“someone did me wrong/stole my favourite song”) which to me it’s just. iffy. and this was SO predictable it’s not funny we all knew he was gonna write about these topics right out the gate with his first comeback single and it wouldn’t be surprising if his album carried that theme (as if “vengeance” in the title isn’t a hint)

about the music video however i also felt something off about it. see, a music video doesn’t need to have a particular story or meaning or anything. it can just be plain old fun i literally don’t care. vlv’s video though seemed like an attempt at a video that something lying underneath it. it had the campiness and exaggeration but there was something just missing. perhaps self-awareness? a more obvious message? it was just a performance, not simply that though, as there were moments of showiness and lore (?) at the end, so it just didn’t feel mixed well for lack of a better word. there was no actual heart to it. no story to thread this all to. no obvious motif that explained it. maybe i’m just overthinking about it but especially when compared to panic’s past music videos. i’m not suggesting that they repeat their old work in this, but like i said before the downfall is obvious.

all in all. things aren’t looking up for the future of patd. as expected.

[l3m0ncyan]

New at Life | Chapter 4

Steven Grant/Marc Spector x latina!teen!reader

Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

Warning: Symptoms of anxiety/panic attack, being choked

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In a rush, Y/N ascended the stairs of the museum and swiftly approached JB, who was predictably leaning in his chair, engrossed in his phone. When wasn't he?

Spotting Y/N, JB put on a sly smile, ready to provoke her. "Well, if it isn't the little gremlin."

She rolled her eyes, cutting straight to the point. "Did you see Steven come in?"

JB tapped his finger on his lips, feigning deep thought, but eventually shrugged. "I don't see him with you."

Y/N let out an exasperated sigh, her nose scrunching slightly. "Oh, well, would you look at that? He isn't standing right beside me? How foolish of me," she mocked with a British accent. "Do you honestly believe I would waste my breath talking to you if I had walked in with him?"

JB practically shrank in his chair under the force of Y/N's newfound energy. "No, miss. I didn't see him come in."

Huffing in frustration, Y/N turned away and made her way to the locker room before heading back to the gift shop. That day, she didn't observe the customers browsing like she usually did; instead, her mind was preoccupied with thoughts of Steven's whereabouts.

If he were traveling somewhere, he would have told her. However, she had to face the reality that she was just a simple neighbor who happened to work with him. It stung a little, but it was true. Thinking further, back in California, her neighbors felt like family, always informing one another about their plans. But this was England, and things might be different.

"Where's the other worker?" a man interrupted her thoughts, already placing a few items on the counter as he waited for assistance.

Momentarily confused by his question, the man noticed her reaction and clarified, "Oh, sorry if I sounded creepy. I just always see him working here."

Y/N offered a reassuring smile. "That's alright. He's probably called in sick or something. Will this be all for you today?"

The man hummed, contemplating for a moment. "Actually, can I just get this one?" he pointed to a ceramic figure depicting a half-crocodile, half-woman creature, likely an ancient Egyptian goddess. Steven would have known and likely kept the man here longer while he explained her origins.

"Sure, no problem," Y/N responded, canceling the other items and proceeding to provide him with the total. He nodded, paying in cash, and thanked her before reaching for his belongings.

As the man retrieved his items, Y/N noticed a similar tattoo on his forearm. She furrowed her brow, connecting the tattoo to the cashier she had seen in the restaurant about a month ago.

In an instant, she looked up and caught the man's smiling face. His small eyes, consumed by his wide grin, sent a shiver down her spine. It was a haunting sight that simultaneously chilled and warmed her blood.

By the time Y/N snapped out of her trance, the man had vanished. She took deep breaths, attempting to steady her racing heart. Were they following her? Who were they? And why had he been looking for Steven?

Once she reached a calm state, she rolled her shoulders back, as if trying to shake off the remnants of a panic attack. As if having a panic attack wasn’t enough, Donna approached her with a loud exclamation. "Where the bloody hell is Steven?"

Y/N sighed, feeling exhausted and wanting nothing more than to go home early. Frustrated, she replied, "I don't know."

Donna's brows furrowed. "How do you not know? He's your cousin."

Y/N shrugged wearily, locking eyes with Donna. Exhausted and longing to go home early, she mustered a response. “Well that is stupendous,” Donna crossed her arms, “It looks like you’ll be working overtime.”

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise. "Wait, what? Why?"

Donna maintained her stern posture. "It's too late to call in other people, and besides, you're his cousin and you’ll get hours in." With that, she turned and walked away, leaving Y/N groaning and throwing her head back in frustration. "Damn it, Steven."

——

After a long day at work, Y/N finally had the chance to head home. Luckily, she found an empty seat on the bus where she could rest her tired legs. Looking out the window, she saw the dark streets of London. Usually she rode the bus with a conversation between her and Steven, but he obviously wasn’t here. She checked her phone to see if he sent her a text or tried calling her, but she had no new notifications from him. She sighed and used this time to break the silence, putting in her earbuds and pressed play on her playlist.

Once she arrived to the bus stop, she hopped out and approached the apartment building. A few of the sellers who would put their stand infront of the entrance were packing up for the day as she weaved through the small group.

She entered the building, the man from when she first got to London gave her a wave, “Hello Ms.L/N, how has your first month been?”.

“It’s been good, aside from dealing with work,” she offered a quick smile. The man nodded, “Where is the man you usually walk in with? Sebastian? Stephen?”

“Steven,” she clarified, “and he stayed in sick today,”. The man didn’t say anything and only nodded, waving off to Y/N. She gave him a quick nod and walked into the elevator.

Y/N turned to one of the mirrors in the elevator and looked at her reflection. Her hair and clothes were disheveled from working twice as hard for todays shift. The lines of her eyes were exhausted and her mouth was slightly downturned. Her posture was almost similar to Steven’s. Aside from her appearance, she felt tired and only wanted seclude herself in her apartment. She felt pathetic.

Like always, the lights in the elevator began to flicker which she was already used to. They continued to flicker until the elevator chimed and its doors opened, leading her out to the hallway.

She sat her belongings down once she opened her door, taking a moment to look around. Her first paycheck was not a lot but she was able to buy a few essentials. She finally bought a mattress which was used but she couldn’t care less. Steven helped her take it up to the apartment where she left it on the right corner floor of her flat. It wasn’t much but her back still thanked her for the comforting surface. A few rugs were also donated by Steven including a few egyptian paintings and posters, scattered around the studio. It made the place come together and feel more like home.

Kicking off her shoes, she walked to her bed and fell on it. She closed her eyes for a second before looking up at the ceiling. Her mind was still consumed by the thoughts of the man and the cashier, the ones with the tattoos. It was odd that she met one in the beginning of the month and the other when Steven turned up missing.

Then the unsettling idea crept into her mind. What if Steven was gone because of them? The thought made her stomach churn, not wanting to know what they could have done to him. It was inevitable still, her mind showing her disturbing images of Steven tied up to a chair or in a dark basement. She closed her eyes, attempting to push away such a grim outcome. Maybe she relied on Steven too much, and that's why she was so worried.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, which thankfully distracted her. Glancing at the lock screen, she saw a message from her brother, asking how things were going in London. She replied and after asking how they were, he suggested a phone call. She hesitated, knowing he would likely pick up on any hint of distress in her voice. But if she didn't call, it would be more of the same.

She dialed his number, and he answered promptly. "So, how is it living in an apartment?" he asked.

"Kinda sucks. Not much privacy and the lights flicker so often," she replied.

"You might have gotten a haunted place then," her brother teased.

Y/N chuckled, offering a witty retort as she got up and retrieved the lunch she had made for Steven from her bag. Her brother continued the conversation as she heated up her dinner. Eventually, she thought if whether to mention her new friend, the 30-year-old friend who lived across the hall but decided against it.

She focused on sharing her experiences of her first week working at the museum and exploring the city. The phone call carried on for another ten minutes before her brother bid her farewell and they hung up.

——— Deciding to the use the weekend to be productive, Y/N used her time to run errands. A few consisted getting more things for the apartment and get fresh air, especially with encountering the people with matching tattoos. She grabbed her tote bag and apartment keys, and stepped out of the door. As she glanced at Steven's door, she noticed the golden number drilled onto it.

Maybe he was inside, sleeping in today. He probably came back from whatever he was doing yesterday. Yet for some reason her hand began knocking on his door on its own. She half-expected the door to swing open and he would be there in his sweats and t-shirt, groggy from being waken up. Realizing he never told her about his absence and apologizing or becoming frazzled for missing his date with Dylan the tour guide. Something, anything.

But there was nothing.

She sighed, not wanting to waste her time knocking again, she continued on to the elevator.

-

She used the bus as her main way to get around and traveled to a thrift store that she had visited a while ago when she was searching for items for the apartment. It was small, but it had many worthy things for a fair price in her budget. She searched the aisles for any clothing items and decorations to add to her studio. As she browsed, her eyes landed on a small bronze jar adorned with Egyptian hieroglyphs. Her eyes glazed over it and she thought about how Steven would love it.

As a sign to buy it, the lights began to flicker in the store, oddly it was only in her area, everyone else didn’t notice. “Weird, does every building in England have this problem?” she mumbled to herself, putting the item into the small basket she had. It sort of freaked her out but she didn't mind and took her things to the register.

Walking down the street, she noticed that the day was gradually becoming grayer. Puzzled, she looked up and saw dark clouds blanketing the London sky, casting a gloomy atmosphere. Soon enough, small raindrops began to fall, growing in intensity with each passing moment until it was pouring.

“Shit.” she cursed and quickly grabbed her bag, putting it on top of her head. She hurriedly made her way to the bus stop, where the bus was just about to finish loading passengers. Thankfully, she managed to board before the doors closed. Securing a window seat, she gazed outside as the rain painted the streets in a glistening sheen.

Looking around the bus, she noticed how everyone had an umbrella, feeling like an outcast.

When the bus reached her stop, she continued to shield herself with her bag while others used umbrellas. She power-walked towards her apartment, which unfortunately was just a block away. The cold air wrapped around her, and the rain pelted against her face, urging her to pick up her pace. The once-dry tote bag became soaked, and soon enough, she was no longer dry herself. Finally turning the corner, she caught sight of the building and dashed towards the entrance.

She entered her apartment and placed her belongings on the table, relieved to find that her phone hadn't gotten wet. Making her way to the stack of clothes near her bed, she grabbed a cozy oversized t-shirt and sweatpants before taking a long, hot shower.

Sitting on her mattress while she dried her hair, she checked the weather on her phone. The rain was expected to stop by seven in the evening. Suddenly a notification slid down from the top of her phone screen with a light ‘ding’. Expecting it to be from her brother, her eyes widened slightly once she read the name. It was from Steven.

She tapped the message quickly and read the message.

Hey Y/N, sorry I ghosted you for the past two days, fault on my part. I had an emergency with my mum but it is all well. See you soon :)

Y/N stared at the message and she felt herself become relieved. Her theory about the tattooed people and Steven were wrong, thankfully. She wrote back a quick message saying it was no problem, to which she was left delivered. Still it was better to know what happened than not knowing.

Her stomach growled, cutting her train of thought. She got up from the mattress and walked to the fridge to see if there was anything eat. Unfortunately, you were only met with a jug of milk and disappointment. “How am I out?” she scrunched her face, confused.

She made her way to the large window and noticed that the rain ceased. It was still cloudy and chilly, but the sweater she had on would work. Y/N checked the next bus that would make its way to the stop and realized she would be home late if she took it. Thus leading her to walk to the market instead. Thankfully it was only about a block away.

The walk was pleasant, keeping her mind at ease. Especially with the scent of petrichor, a refreshing reminder of how it rained an hour ago. She looked up and noticed that the sun would begin its descent within an hour, or perhaps even less. Increasing her pace, she soon arrived at the small market.

It was an inviting building adorned with plants, and a neon sign saying it was open. Stepping inside, she saw aisles stretching toward the back, and at the front, a stand showcased a vibrant array of fruits and vegetables. Retrieving her shopping list, she set about collecting the items she needed.

There were several people in the store, but they came and went quickly. Most likely they were just there for a quick errand. As Y/N browsed through the aisles, she overheard a conversation between two older women. One of them asked, "Did you hear what happened in Switzerland?" and the other replied, "No, what happened?"

"Well, supposedly there are some suspicious things going on over there. They found a man badly beaten on the side of the street," the first woman explained.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. What was so strange about that? Maybe it wasn’t a normal thing to be heard of around the city, but it wouldn’t be much of her worries. As she reached for a box of cereal, she caught snippets of their conversation as they walked away.

"They say he was part of a big cult. He had a tattoo of a scale," one of the women mentioned.

All the energy seemed to drain from Y/N's fingertips, causing her to lose her grip on the box, which dropped to the floor. The women stared at her, and Y/N quickly smiled and picked it up. She clutched her chest, her breathing growing rapid. She took small breaths to calm herself, it felt like her throat was closing in.

It was, or rather is, a cult that has been following her and Steven. Why? What did she do? Her paranoia got the better of her, she looked around immediately, wondering if a member was in the same market as her. Deciding to wrap up her grocery shopping and only grab the essentials, she headed to the checkout counter.

On her walk back home, she looked down, lost in thought. Although she had managed to regain her composure, the idea of a cult following her was unsettling and not something she wanted to entertain.

Y/N stepped outside, the dark streets greeted her, illuminated only by the streetlights and passing car headlights. With a block of walking ahead, she initially decided to listen to music through her earbuds to pass the time. However, she quickly removed them, realizing that it might make her more vulnerable to a potential attack by a cult member. Now, she was left with the sounds of passing cars and the squelching of her wet footsteps.

There weren’t many out, which made her anxious. She held her phone close to her body in case any attacker would try to give her a hard time. As if her anxiety couldn’t get worse, in the distance was a man stumbling ahead of her. He seemed injured, clutching his ribs as if he had been in a fight. He eventually veered into an alley.

"Don't think about it," Y/N muttered to herself, trying to suppress her curiosity. She kept her gaze fixed on the concrete, but her eyes involuntarily wandered towards the approaching alley. She shook her head, yelling at herself to not let her curiosity get the better of her.

She wanted to punch herself. She peeked into the alley, without stepping further in, in case it was a trap or something dangerous. "This is how people get kidnapped," she scolded herself, yet her feet carried her closer to the end of the alley. The man she saw leaned against a wall, light groans being heard until they were interrupted by vomit.

Y/N breathed in, trying to gather any bravery she had left. "Hey, are you alright?" she asked him calmly, doing her best to steady her voice and conceal any fear.

The man jerked his head up, searching for the source of the voice. His eyes widened a little, but he winced in pain, shutting his eyes and clutching his chest.

She took in the man’s features, noting his pale face and clothes that seemed too large for him, as if he had borrowed them. The dim lighting in the alley made it difficult to tell his facial features, but she could see that he had shaggy hair. Alone from his appearance, he looked like he was in his mid-twenties.

The man collapsed to his knees, supporting himself with only one arm. "I don't know what's happening to me. It hurts!"

Y/N remained frozen for a moment before retrieving her phone. "I'll call an ambulance for you, okay? Just stay right there," she gestured for him to remain where he was.

This seemed to freak the man out, his head looking back at her with wide eyes, “No! You can’t, i’ll only hurt more people.” He whimpered before he broke into sobs.

His outburst startled Y/N, making her step back, feeling all the courage she had left vanish. Fear and confusion washed over her, making her heart race. She wanted to run straight to her place but she knew she would feel guilty. “Okay, well you’re going to have to work with me. The ambulance or the police might be the only–”.

"Shut up!" The man's voice changed, becoming deeper, as if there were two voices overlapping. Alongside his voice, she noticed black veins creeping out from the collar of his shirt, snaking up towards his chin.

Y/N recoiled at the sudden action, immediately closing her mouth and retreating further. She clutched her phone, her other hand forming a fist. The man retreated into the darkness of the alley, disappearing from her sight. Silence filled the air, thick with tension. She wanted to run but she was afraid to turn her back to the dangerous man.

Suddenly, she heard the sound of cracking coming from the end of the alley. Summoning her remaining courage, she quickly retrieved her phone and turn on the built in flashlight.

Without warning, she heard rapid footsteps approaching, and the man's figure emerged charging towards her. She had barely any time to process the situation before he pounced on her, knocking her to the ground. Her phone skidded away, and her groceries spilled from her bag, scattering across the ground. The impact left her winded, her eyes wide with disbelief as she stared up at the man towering over her.

The man tightened his grip around Y/N's neck, cutting off her breath and leaving her gasping for air. She desperately clawed at his hands, trying to trying to free herself but he was too strong. Her arms felt weak, and she scanned her surroundings for something, anything, that could help her. For a moment she thought she saw black goo covering his arms, moving towards her. The side of her neck felt a rush of cold and chills ran down her spine.

Suddenly, the black slime evaporated into her skin, leaving the man weak. It was her opportunity. Summoning all her strength, Y/N used her legs to kick him off her. He fell to the ground, motionless. Gasping for air, she propped herself up, touching her neck where his hands had made contact. She looked over at the man and saw that he remained still.

With shaky legs and a hot sensation coursing through her body, Y/N stood up. She quickly gathered her belongings, shining her phone's light on the man. His mouth was slightly open, and his eyes stared wide open. She looked at his chest to see for any signs of breathing, but it remained still.

"Oh my god…" she stumbled back, the realization sinking in that the man was no longer alive. It wasn't like the movies she had watched; this was real. There was a dead person right in front of her.

Clutching her groceries and phone tightly, Y/N cast one final glance at the lifeless man before breaking into a sprint, racing out of the alley. The deserted streets allowed her to run straight back to her apartment without encountering anyone.

Her quick, wet footsteps and panting echoed in her ears as she made her way home. She no longer cared if she was being followed by a cult member, all she wanted was to lay down on her bed. To wrap herself with her blanket and cry until she fell asleep.

Upon buzzing herself into the building, the older building owner noticed her distressed state as she hurried towards the elevators. "Hey, are you feeling alright?" he asked, concern etched on his face.

"All good," she replied, giving a hurried thumbs-up before stepping into the elevator as the doors opened.

Once she reached her floor, Y/N hastened to her door, her trembling hands struggling to find the keyhole. After what felt like an eternity, she finally heard the satisfying click of the lock.

She entered her flat, placing the groceries on the dining table without bothering to change out of her clothes. Exhausted, she made a beeline for her mattress. Despite the soreness in her body, she felt relief as she settled into her bed. Pulling the covers over herself, she squeezed her eyes shut, wanting to push the events out of her mind. It was something to worry about in the morning.

Still, it was difficult to not imagine the haunting empty eyes of the man.

—————————

Sorry it was short, the next chapters I will try to make them longer :)

Anyways hope you enjoyed

Also if you want to be tagged for future updates, just let me know 🤙

Edit: fixed the chapter from all the cringy dialogue, sorry about that

Tags:

@itsjusspele

[helliontherapscallion]

(Y/n) and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week: Wednesday

Monday     Tuesday     Thursday (Part 1)     Thursday (Part 2)     Friday     Saturday     Sunday

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: panic attacks, swearing, getting outed, f slur and d slur, homophobia, puking, toxic friends

Word count: 5,160

(A/N): woah, thank you all so much for all the positive feedback, that really makes my day! 

The room was quiet with the exception of the clacking of the keyboard and the soft chirping of crickets outside your open window. The stars twinkled in the sky as the night droned on and on. There was a loud rustling outside your window, but your sleep deprived mind didn’t think anything of it. It wasn’t important at the moment, the only important thing right now was finishing your work. 

Throughout the night, you worked endlessly on your friend’s work. The essays were relatively easy because Adrian and Annie had luckily chosen topics that you’re somewhat interested in, so at least finding the sources was enjoyable. You had gotten your essay completely written and proofread, Annie’s outline finished, and Adrian’s sources analyzed. You would start on Sammy’s presentation after you finished Adrian’s outline. Hours upon hours passed by you as you worked, yet you didn’t notice the time once. You worked uninterrupted with no breaks. Well, one break to talk to your dad about how you weren’t hungry, but you got back to work right after he left your room. You couldn’t waste any more time than you already have.

Your eyes felt heavy as you typed on your keyboard, working on putting Adrian’s sources together cohesively so that the writing would flow seamlessly. You paused your typing to rub at your tired eyes so you could keep working, you couldn’t afford to fall asleep. You had to get these done as soon as possible if you wanted their forgiveness. 

The blaring of your alarm startled you out of your focus, making you fall backwards out of your chair with a yelp. Landing painfully on your back, you laid on the floor trying to calm your racing heartbeat. You looked out your window. Hints of pinks and yellows were starting to make a gradient with the lightening dawn sky. Shit, you were so focused on getting your work done that you didn’t take account of the time. You just knew today was gonna be long. At least after school volleyball practice was shortened because of finals tomorrow. 

You groaned as you pulled your tired form off from the ground. You made your way downstairs and plopped yourself down at your usual place at the table, burying your face into the crook of your arm. You felt yourself drift off into a blissful sleep, the wood of the table suddenly seemed very comfortable at the moment. Not long after, you were jolted out of your peaceful sleep by a loud crash. Jumping up and looking around with wide eyes, you saw Tubbo looking at you apologetically. There was broken glass in front of his feet on the floor. 

“Sorry, (y/n).”

You just stared at him blankly as you slowly blinked. Philza didn’t spare you a glance as he whisked the short boy away from the glass. “(Y/n), can you please go get the broom and sweep this up?”

You nodded, hauling yourself to your feet and walked over to the storage closet, pulling out the broom and dust pan. You mindlessly sweeped up the glass, your limbs feeling heavy. After throwing the glass away, you rummaged in the cupboard and pulled out a mug. The bitter smell beckoned you welcomingly, working its way through your nostrils and digging itself deep into your brain. Just as you were about to pour yourself a cup, a hand snatched the coffee pot away from you. 

“You shouldn’t be drinking this.”

“You let Techno and Wil drink it, so why can’t I?”

“(Y/n), you’re a full year younger than them and you haven’t eaten anything since breakfast yesterday.”

You felt your eye twitch, “I’m only a year younger than them! There’s literally no-”

“(Y/n),” his warning tone cut you off, putting the pot back into the coffee maker, “you aren’t going to drink this. That’s final. Get a glass of water.”

You huffed and pushed past him to the sink to fill your coffee mug with water. You’ve been drinking coffee for a while behind his back, so you were used to its effects on your body. You supposed that you’d just beg Wilbur to take you to the cafe so you could get your sustenance. He always relented for you. 

You heard him chuckle, “you’ll thank me when you’re older.”

“Mhm.”

You plopped down next to Tubbo nursing your mug of water, trying to make small talk with him. One by one, your brothers made their way to the table. Tommy was talking and gesturing wildly to Tubbo like he normally did, Wilbur looked as dead inside as you felt, and Techno made it a point to ignore you. When someone pissed him off, he can hold a grudge better than he could hold onto his knowledge of Greek mythology, and that’s saying something. Man is obsessed with Greek mythology. 

Breakfast went by in a daze with you struggling to keep your eyes open. At one point, you almost fell asleep sitting up, only to be woken up by Tubbo shaking your shoulder to get your attention. When breakfast was almost done, you had only eaten about half your breakfast. 

Drifting off again, you were startled awake by the screeching of the chairs against the wooden floor and loud shouts coming from your brothers. You didn’t have the energy to race them to the bathroom like you usually did, you’d just freshen up after they were done. You tried to stand up to go to your room to get dressed, but you were stopped by a hand on your shoulder forcing you to sit back down. Looking up, you were met with the concerned, yet stern eyes of your father. 

“You’re not leaving this table until you’ve eaten at least a few more bites and tell me why you’re so tired.”

“I just stayed up later than I normally do finishing up some homework, it won’t happen again.”

“It better not or else I will make you stay home next time. When’d you go to bed last night?”

You avoided his eyes, “around one thirty or two.” You couldn’t tell him that you didn’t actually go to sleep last night, he’d flip. 

“You know, you’re a terrible liar.” Shit.

Looking him in the eye, you spoke more confidently. “Three in the morning.”

“(Y/n)-”

You felt a sudden rage start to twist inside you as he started to lecture you about taking better care of yourself. He was treating you like a child and you were not having it. 

“-young kids like you need to- are you even listening?”

You set your jaw and willed yourself not to explode at him. “Dad, I’m not a child. I know how to take care of myself.”

You saw him narrow his eyes and purse his lips in frustration, “well, obviously you don’t if you’re not eating or sleeping well,” his eyes softened. “I’m starting to worry about you.”

“Well, you shouldn’t because I’m fine,” you snapped at him. “I’m going to get ready.”

You stalked out of the room and stomped upstairs. Passing a shocked Tommy and Tubbo, you made your way into the bathroom to get ready. The person that stared back at you in the mirror looked pale and had dark eye bags accentuating her tired eyes. She had red pimples dotting her face more than she usually did. She was ugly, revolting. The girl you remembered her being was confident in her appearance and walked with an air of importance. Now, she was a decrepit thing that was run down and scared of her own shadow. You couldn’t recognize the girl that stared back at you anymore. You should’ve been able to;  after all, she was you and you were her.

You rushed through your morning routine in the bathroom avoiding looking at yourself in the mirror. You opened the bathroom door only to be met with Wilbur’s chest, his hand poised in the air in a closed fist ready to knock on the door. He stepped back.

“We’re gonna be late if you don’t hurry up.”

You glanced at the clock on the wall. “Wil, we still have twenty minutes before school starts. We don’t have to leave for another ten minutes.”

He gave you a smirk, “well, you want coffee, don’t you? You look dead.”

“Oh thank god. I feel dead, I didn’t sleep at all last night.”

“When’d you go to bed?”

“I didn’t.”

“Christ, (y/n) I knew you were a dumbass, but not that much of a dumbass.”

You rolled your eyes, walking around him and into your room. You felt a stab of hurt in your heart. “Fuck you.”

Before you could close the door, he shouted out a cheeky “love ya too (y/n)!”

You took off all your clothes slowly and stood in front of your open closet deciding on what you should wear today. You figured that since you felt like absolute shit, you should probably put a little bit more effort into your appearance. Picking out your favorite flannel shirt and favorite pair of pants. Smiling at yourself in the mirror in your room, you felt slightly more confident in your appearance. You felt like you could walk around the hallways at school without as many peering eyes trying to figure out your every secret. But maybe that was just the sleep deprivation talking. You tend to be more impulsive and emotional when you’re sleep deprived.

You slung the backpack onto your back with less difficulty than in the previous days. Your back was healing faster than you thought it would. Now, it barely hurt and the swelling completely went away.

You went downstairs and slunk past the kitchen where Philza was talking to Tommy and Tubbo. You didn’t want them to notice you, you felt somewhat guilty for snapping at your dad. You slipped through the front door and hopped into the passenger seat next to Wilbur. You three usually rotated seats counterclockwise and took turns driving each day. Now, you were just waiting for Techno.  

“Well, you look less homeless today.”

“Thanks Wilbur, I just felt like looking a little nicer than usual.”

“Who’re ya dressing up for? Is it Adrian?” He asked with slight disgust. He hated Adrian almost as much as he hated Annie and Sammy. He thought he was nothing more than a fuckboy looking to get into your pants. Little did he know you were secretly a raging lesbian so deep in the closet that you’re froliking with Aslan through the flowerfields of Narnia.

“Wilbur, I’m gay why would I-” you froze, cursing your sleep deprived self for lacking a filter. Your breath caught in your throat and you felt anxiety start to seep into your veins and pump around your body, filling every single nook and cranny with dread. You could feel tears welling in your eyes as you stared at your shaking hands horrified at yourself. How could you just… just out yourself like that? How could you be so careless? So stupid?

You barely felt it when Wilbur reached over to press a gentle hand on your arm. “(Y/n), are yo-”

“I-tha-that was a joke, I’m not gay, I’m straight.” Your words came out in frantic jumbles, desperately trying to fix your slip up. Oh god, you really fucked up this time.

“(Y/n), brea-”

“I swear I’m not gay, I like men, I do. I-”

“(Y/n), breathe with me.” Wilbur’s firm, yet gentle voice demanded. He placed your hand on his chest and took in a deep breath, held it, and released it slowly. You tried your best to follow him, but after about ten minutes, you were slowly but surely calming down. It was a lot faster calming down from a panic attack when you had someone helping you breathe. You’ve never gotten help with a panic attack before, it was nice. Becoming more aware of your surroundings, you took notice of the soft fabric of Wilbur’s sweater, the gentle thumping of his heart, and his worried expression. You also became aware of the extra hand rubbing small circles into your shoulder from behind your seat. It was Techno.

Taking in a shaky breath, you took your hand out of Wilbur’s grip and clasped your hands tightly in front of you, shrugging Techno’s hand off from your shoulder. 

“...Can we please leave? I don’t want Dad or Tubbo and Tommy seeing me like this.”

Wordlessly, Wilbur started up the car and pulled out of the driveway. At the intersection, he turned in the opposite direction of the school. “Wilbur, where are we going? The school’s the other way.”

“We’re going to the cafe for some coffee, my treat.”

“But school starts in five minutes, we’re gonna be late if we go to the cafe.”

“Actually,” Techno’s deep voice chimed in, “school started ten minutes ago. If we’re already late, there’s no harm in skipping first block.”

“Tech, I literally have no idea what’s going on in stats.”

“I’ll give you my notes.”

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to bother you.”

Wilbur pulled into the cafe’s parking lot, “don’t be stupid, (y/n). You can never bother us.”

You didn’t say anything as you left the car and headed into the cafe. You could think of plenty of ways you could bother your older brothers. You bothered everybody just by being in their presence. You just had that effect. 

Your brothers followed you into the cafe, glancing at each other worriedly. You three quickly got your orders and sat in the secluded back of the cafe. Soft jazz music drifted throughout the quiet cafe. 

“(Y/n), we need to talk about what happened. Was this your first panic attack?” Wilbur asked you gently.

“...No, I’ve had them before.” 

“Were they always this intense? You’re still shaking.”

“That one was nowhere near as intense as the ones I usually have.’

“Usually? Do you have them often?” Tecno asked.

“Yeah, usually a couple of them a week since the middle of freshman year. Nothing I can’t manage.”

“So you’ve been doing this on your own for three years? You could’ve gotten us to help you.” 

You sighed, looking down at your steaming cup. “...I couldn’t’ve. Don’t get me wrong, I know you guys could help me, but I-I just couldn’t. No one was supposed to find out.”

“Promise us that you’ll come to one of us when you have an attack. We care about you, (y/n).”

“I… I’ll think about it. Thank you.”

The table fell into a comfortable silence as you all sipped at your drinks, the comforting taste of the bitter coffee dancing across your tongue.

“Ya know, we don’t care that you’re gay. A lesbian called me ‘actually pretty funny’ once and I’m still riding the high.” 

“Yeah, you’re still you. Nothing changes the fact that you’re our little sister.” 

You smiled as you felt warm inside. You knew your brothers loved you, but you didn’t know that they loved you for being you. You didn’t think anybody loved you unconditionally like that, and that made you feel genuinely happy.

“Thank you guys, for everything. I-I can’t put into words how much that means to me, I love you guys so much!”

“We love you too,” Wilbur smiled before he dropped it into a stern frown. “But if any girl hurts you, we’ll have a stern talking to her.”

“Yeah, we can’t beat up girls. We’ll put her in her place alright.” You snorted into your coffee, almost spilling it on yourself. Quickly setting it down before you could baptize yourself with the scalding liquid (though, you did consider coffee to be holy), you wiped at your teary eyes. 

“And that’s why I love you guys.”

“We’re serious, she’ll be wishing she got beat up after we’re done scolding her.” Wilbur said seriously before he broke into a grin and started laughing. 

The conversation carried on about your sexuality, how you found out, when you found out, if you’ve told anyone yet (they were honored that they were the first people you’ve told, even if you did it accidentally mid-panic attack). Eventually you had to go back to the school before your second block started. You three split ways to your separate classrooms. 

Annie and Adrian were locked onto you as soon as you walked through the door. They looked angry at you. What’d you do this time to piss them off?

“Where the fuck were you this morning? We were looking everywhere for you,” Annie seethed.

“Yeah, you wasted so much of our time looking for your sorry ass. You ditch us again?”

Oh, that. “Look, I didn’t mean to skip out on you guys again. It was a rough morning.” 

“That’s funny because we also had rough mornings, yet we still hung out with each other. You aren’t special.” Adrian rolled his eyes at you.

“It’s gonna take more to apologize. We don’t let things like the little stunts you pull go off scott free.”

“Oh, Annie I have the best idea,” Adrian squealed, bouncing on the balls of his feet excitedly. 

“What is it Dri?” Annie’s eyes shone.

“Our little (y/n) can set you up with one of her brothers and she can go on a date with me on a double date! It’s foolproof, not even someone as dumb as (y/n) could fuck it up.” 

“I don’t think that’s a good id-”

“It’s perfect Dri! Can it be with Wilbur? He’s literally so hot! Oh, the way his fingers can work that guitar…” Ew. The thought of Wilbur and Annie together made you scrunch up your nose with disgust.

“I’m sorry, but Wilbur’s actually dating Sally Fishmin right now. They’re actually really cute together-”

“God, how could someone as hot as Wilbur go for Sally Fishmin? She’s disgusting, always smells like fish,” Annie gagged, then gasped. “Wait (y/n) do you actually think that she’s more deserving to be with him than I am?”

“No, I nev-”

“Really? Cuz you just did. Glad to see you care about me, (y/n).”

“Annie, you’re literally so beautiful. I never said that you don’t deserve him. You deserve the world. I can’t split them up, but I can do more homework for you.” She perked up immediately, “awe, thanks love! That’s what happens when you actually put effort into how you look.”

“Speaking of, did you get that shirt out of the trash? It’s really not a look.” Adrian snickered to himself. There goes what little confidence you had. You actually thought you looked decent today. You felt grateful for your friends, they always told you the truth about how you looked when everybody else lied to you. 

Before you could respond, the bell rang and everybody took their seats. Luckily, Mr. Todd assigned today as a work day for your final research essays. You had finished Annie’s and got Adrian’s thesis done before the bell rang. While you were working on their essays, they were mindlessly scrolling on their phones and texting someone. 

You, Adrian, and Annie met up with Sammy and went into the lunch room. You tried to line up in the lunch line with them, but they laughed and told you that you’re fat enough and you needed to lose weight. What did you do to deserve such considerate friends? You really owed them one for always looking out for and putting up with you.

While you were waiting for them, you pulled out your phone. To your surprise, Haley texted you a screenshot of her conversation with Unknown. You felt a chill run down your spine. All four pictures were of you. You rubbing your eyes as the light of your computer provided the only light in the room. Your bare back facing the camera as you stood in front of your closet this morning. You sleeping a day ago (you felt sick as you realized that whoever took the picture was standing directly over your bed). Lastly, you and Haley holding each other’s hand under the moonlight last night. Attached to the pictures, Unknown had typed “you have one more day or else sleeping ugly gets it. Do not tempt us.”

Hales : )

(Y/n), how the hell did they get these pictures of you

Did you seriously leave your window open???

Why wouldn’t you close your curtains

Oh god, do you think they saw us in your driveway????

(Y/n)

Haley calm down 

Hales : )

I know you’re not telling me to calm down right now

You have a stalker

One that can GET INSIDE YOUR ROOM

(Y/n)

We’ll get to the bottom of this

Like I said, I don’t care if my pictures get leaked

I care about your pictures

Until we figure out who’s doing this, we need to lay low

Hales : )

Hanging out last night was a mistake

I shouldn’t have gave you a ride

I shouldn’t have tried to kiss you

I’m straight

And you are too

You said it yourself

We can’t talk anymore (y/n)

(Y/n)

I’m not straight Hales

I’m gay

And I like you

Like

Like you like you

Hales : )

I’m sorry (y/n)

But I’m straight

We can’t talk anymore

Goodbye.

With each text she sent you, you felt your heart drop deeper and deeper into your stomach until you felt your heart shatter in your chest, the pieces lodging themselves deep within you and ripping you open from inside out. How could you be so stupid to think that soemone as perfect as Haley Andrews, arguably the prettiest girl in the senior year, go out with (y/n) Minecraft, a known trainwreck. Annie’s shrill gasp sounded right next to your ear, making you gasp and drop your phone onto the table with a loud bang.

“OH MY GOD (Y/N) YOU’RE A FAGGOT? WERE YOU HITTING ON ME EARLIER? YOU FUCKING PERVERT.”

The entire cafeteria fell into silence as they listened to Annie’s shrieking. Whispers started to meld together.

“(Y/n)’s gay?”

“How gross”

“Damn, I was gonna hit it”

“We have a dyke going to this school?”

You felt like you were suffocating as the whispers and Annie’s yelling jumbled together in a disorienting cacophony. Adrian and Sammy both glared at you from behind Annie with a hatred that you didn’t know they had for you. You tried stuttering an apology, but you were quickly shut up by Annie harshly slapping you across the face.

“I don’t wanna hear it, fag. You’re going to finish our essays and you’re never gonna talk to us again. Do you understand me?” When you didn’t respond, she slapped you again. “I asked you, do you understand me?” 

You frantically nodded your head, grabbed your backpack, and sprinted out the door without any real destination in mind. You sprinted before you found the bathroom that nobody used. Ducking into a stall and slamming the door, you felt yourself start to hyperventilate. You couldn’t feel anything except for the tightness of your chest. You couldn’t see anything. You couldn’t hear anything. You faintly tasted bile rising up in your throat as you bent over to empty your stomach. You threw up everything in your stomach until you were left sitting on the dirty floor painfully dry heaving. 

You sobbed on that floor for what felt like hours. Everybody knows your secret now. Your dirty, dirty secret. God, you were a pervert weren’t you? You made people around you comfortable by just being you. Faintly, you felt your phone start to buzz in your pocket, your shaky hands scrambling to fish it out. They were all texts from your brothers.

Wilby

(Y/n) I heard what happened

Are you okay????

Please answer me

Where are you

Technology Sword

I’m gonna kill them

I swear to god they’re dead

Blood for the blood god

(Y/n)

Pls dont do anything or hurt anyone

I’m fine

I’ll see you two after practice

Wilby

Tell us where you are

(Y/n)

I’m fine

I’ll see you two after practice

You silenced your phone and put it back into your pocket, once again feeling yourself start to dry heave again. Your sobs and gags echoed throughout the bathroom. This is by far the worst panic attack you’ve had yet, and it doesn’t seem like it’s gonna stop anytime soon. You heard the final bell ring and students start to rush to their lockers to get home, so you tried to muffle your shaking sobs the best you could. You had at least an hour before you had to go to volleyball practice. Until then, you would stay in the bathroom trying to ground yourself. 

Luckily, you managed to calm down to the point where you stopped crying and dry heaving. You were only shaking slightly. You felt numb and completely drained from your panic attack, practice today was going to be a struggle. You cautiously walked through the empty hallways jumping at every little noise. When you finally reached the locker room, you made a beeline past Zara and Jazzy to your locker. You pulled out your uniform and changed in one of the bathroom stalls.

Practice went by with the girls on the team giving you sympathetic looks and Haley ignoring you. Not that you noticed, you were ignoring everyone and putting all of your focus on the ball. The entire practice, you felt light headed and drained. Fortunately, practice ended right as you felt like you were going to pass out.

You changed as fast as you could and pulled out your phone.

Dadza

Come outside, I’m here to pick you up

You felt a dread pool in your stomach as you stared at the text. Did he find out? Was he going to kick you out for being gay? Wilbur and Techno wouldn’t let him do that to you, right? Reluctantly, you left the sanctuary of the bathroom stall and rushed out of the locker room and out of the school. Sure enough, your dad’s car was parked in the parking lot. You glanced over to where Haley’s car was parked last night and saw glimpses of you and her chasing each other and laughing into the night sky without a care in the world before you ripped your gaze away to stare at your walking feet.

You reached your dad’s car and sat in the passenger seat. Your dad grinned at you. “Hey hun, how was practice?”

You merely shrugged your shoulders at him. You didn’t have the energy to talk to anyone at the moment. You felt extremely drained.

“What’s wrong, did something happen? You can talk to me.”

“...I’m just sad that the season’s over tomorrow.”

“Don’t be sad kid,” a gruff voice coming from behind you made you jump. “That’s pussy shit.”

You yelped and whipped your head around to look at whoever said that. Your uncle’s cocky grin greeted you. You felt yourself grin back at him. 

“Uncle Schlatt!”

“The one and only.”

“How was your business trip? You’re home early.”

He rolled his eyes, “boring as hell. I’m so fucking glad I got out early, I woulda blew my brains out if I had to stay there any longer.”

“Schlatt!” Philza reprimanded him, glancing at him through the rearview mirror.

“What? I’m just telling the truth. I woulda!” He defended himself.

Your dad gripped the steering wheel. “You didn’t have to say it in front of (y/n).”

Schlatt scoffed, “please, she’s heard me say worse.” 

As they bickered, you felt yourself zone out as you looked out the window. Houses and street signs passed by in a blur as the car moved down the road and pulled into your driveway. You got out as quickly as you could and made your way into the house alongside your uncle and dad. As soon as your uncle walked through the door, Tubbo barrelled into him and pulled him into a tight hug. Schlatt laughed loudly and bent over to pick him up into a hug. You smiled at the father and son as Philza gestured for you to follow him into the kitchen. He opened the oven to check on something cooking inside of it and turned to face you, leaning against the counter.

“So what’s really wrong?”

“I already told you, I’m sad the season’s almost over.”

“It’s something more than that,” as you opened your mouth he quickly added, “and you can’t say that it’s because you’re tired. I wasn’t born yesterday.”

You sighed and mimicked his actions. “...It’s just been a long day. I really don’t wanna talk about it.”

Without warning, he pulled you into a warm hug, your face being shoved into his shoulder and him rubbing circles into your back. “That’s okay, just talk to me when you’re ready. I won’t push you.”

That broke you. Throwing your arms around him, you started to sob into his shoulder. He started to rock you back and forth whispering reassurances into your ear. 

“That’s good, let it all out.”

“I love you so much.”

“I’m here for you.”

With each sentence to fall out of his mouth, you felt more at ease and safe. Your dad always did a great job at making people feel safe, that was just his natural talent. After a while, you pulled away from him.

“Do you feel better?”

You smiled tiredly at him, “Yeah, I really needed a hug.”

He turned around to check on dinner, “I bet, you look like you’ve been to hell and back. You don’t have to tell me what happened, but just know that I’m always here for you and I love you.”

The rest of the family flooded the kitchen after a while of you two talking. Dinner went by with Schlatt laughing loudly and telling stories about the people he met on his business trip. Every now and then, Wilbur and Techno would glance at you, but you ignored them. You just wanted dinner to end so you could pass out in your bed. Once dinner was over, you helped your dad gather everybody’s plate and put them into the sink. The rest of your little family went to the living room to start a game of Monopoly. The last time you all played that ended in fresh bruises and shed tears.

“I think I’m gonna go to bed, I have to get some rest for finals tomorrow.”

“But (y/n), it’s Monopoly! You love Monopoly,” Tommy exclaimed.

“That’s alright, you look dead on your feet kid. Go get some sleep.”

“Thanks Uncle Schlatt. Goodnight everyone, love ya.”

A flurry of goodnights and love you’s follow you as you leave the room and drug yourself up the stairs. Without a second thought, you closed your curtains and plopped face first onto your bed. You passed out without even making sure you were fully on your bed.

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[neonacity]

HYACINTHE | Chapter 1: Jaemin x Reader

Summary:

Na Jaemin is far from being your typical 20 year old. Instead of slaving through college, he wastes away his hours cracking safes. Weekends that should be spent partying with friends consist of illegal races on good days and small scale bombings on bad ones.

Na Jaemin is far from being average, unless you consider being a member of Seoul's top organized crime family normal.

There is no such thing as a sense of normality and peace in his trainwreck of a life, so when he met a barista who was brave enough to call out his dangerous taste in coffee, he was like a moth to the flame. Everything about her is normal, which means she is forbidden to him, in all sense of the word.

So why, then, does he always find himself in the front steps of her shop, breaking all his personal rules even if he wishes he could stay away?

A/N + Disclaimer: this is a side story to Black Daisies, my main mafia fic feat. 0T23. While the plot is based on the main story, this can also be read as a standalone fic. As usual, this is purely a work of fiction and in no way am I implying any member of NCT to behave the way I write them here. tw: crimes, heists, potential death, mentions of drugs and other illegal activities.

PAIRING: Jaemin x Reader

BLACK DAISIES MASTERLIST

___________________________________________________________

I've known him for almost a year and a half when it happened. 

The small bell of the cafe's back door dinged so hard, I thought it would get ripped off from the wall. I looked up, eyes wide with panic and hands still wrapped around the cold corners of a metal tray when a head of jet black hair appeared on the entrance. It took me half a second to register what I was seeing before I found myself flying to his side in a heartbeat. 

"Jaemin! Oh my god, what the hell is going on!"

My first thought was that he was injured. He was doubled over and I quickly hunched to his level so that I could peer at his face. He looked paler than usual, beads of sweat stuck on his forehead, eyes glazed with a slight look of panic as he tried to keep himself from falling over. I threw out my hands to hold him by the shoulders and that's when my gaze caught it; the small black package that he quickly tried to hide inside his bomber jacket before I could even fully see what it is. I didn't give it much attention back then—I was far too focused in trying to see if he was hurt anywhere to worry about anything else. When his gaze finally focused on me, I thought I saw guilt there.  

"I need your help. Sorry, I don't know where else to go."

My brows furrowed together. 

"What the hell is going on—"

He reached out for one of my hands helping him up and squeezed it tight. 

"Please don't ask me questions. Just—can you trust me?" 

"I don't understand—" my voice started to rise. Is he hurt? Bleeding? In pain? 

"Please."

My lips parted then pursed again. 

"Okay."

Jaemin tugged me closer to him and threw a panicked look outside. He then pulled me farther into the now closed cafe, back into the storage room, the location of which he shouldn't even know in the first place. 

"Let me hide here for a bit. Just a bit."

That encounter was my second mistake since meeting Na Jaemin. 

I should have asked questions. 

Lots of them. 

___________________________________________________________

The first mistake happened about a year and half ago. 

"Welcome to Brick and Beans, what would you like to have today?"

I plastered on my practiced smile and looked at the stranger in front of me without actually looking at him. Working in the service industry sure does things to your head once you get used to it. Despite having to deal with people all the time, you also get to develop a kind of numbness and detachment to human interaction. A face just becomes a face, a customer simply becomes just another passing responsibility. I tried to blink a few times to make myself seem more interested on the boy standing in front of my counter, patiently waiting for him to give me his order so we can go ahead and get on with both our business. 

"Uh… I'll have an iced americano. No water. Eight shots of espresso."

My lips parted and curled on the sides to give him my service smile. My hand automatically reached out for the plastic cups stacked on my side while my other whipped out the marker clipped on the pocket of my apron to scribble his order. 

"That's one iced americano, no water, eight—"

I stopped and blinked once. Twice. My gaze shot up at the customer in front of me again and really looked at him for the first time.

"I'm sorry, that's eight shots of espresso?"

He nodded, seemingly unbothered by my question. 

"No water?"

A slight shake of the head. 

"...eight shots. Of espresso."

"Eight shots, yes." 

For a moment we both just stared at each other. He was looking at me patiently, probably only slightly weirded out by my question while I gave him a look that's a mix of worry and disbelief. Working as a barista has exposed me to my own fair share of weird coffee requests, but this is by far the one that takes the cake. 

I softly cleared my throat and turned my attention back to the words I was scribbling on the cup. As strange as it is, I really am not in the position to judge a customer. 

"That'll be 4.50 dollars. Is that for here?"

"Make it to go." 

"Got it. I'll get you your order soon…"

"Jaem." 

I smiled and scribbled his name on the cup. 

Foot traffic was pretty slow on the cafe so I was able to quickly finish the order on autopilot. As I worked on mixing, I found myself humming softly to myself, my tune shifting into short whistles every time I would dunk an espresso shot down into that cup. I didn't even realize that the customer didn't bother taking a seat on one of the empty tables, opting to lean on the wall by the side instead, hands shoved in the pockets of his jogs as his eyes followed me. 

"One iced americano for Jaem," I called out and pushed the packed drink into his hand. He handed me his card and I quickly worked on swiping it. 

"You sure like your coffee explosive, huh?" I shot him a question for the sake of making small talk as I punched some buttons on my terminal. 

"It's the eight shots, isn't it?"

I answered by giving him a shrug and a smile.

"It's the first time I ever did one like it. I can only imagine how it tastes like."

His lips slightly quirked into a smile. A...really cute smile if I might add.  

"Is there anything wrong?"

"It's really good." 

"Sure, Jaem. I'm not here to judge," I gave him a wink before handing back his card and receipt. "Well, thank you for dropping by. We hope to see you here again." He took both wordlessly and slipped them on his wallet. 

I was waiting for him to walk off with his drink with the practiced polite smile plastered on my face again. He turned, coffee in hand, took about five steps, before turning to me again. I blinked in mild confusion as he placed his cup back on my counter. 

"Actually… I'll have it here." 

___________________________________________________________

"I'm not going to try your death coffee, Jaemin." 

I didn't look up from the page I was reading but I could feel it, that deadly pout and puppy eyes combo drilling onto the side of my head. I flipped a page of my textbook over and I heard a sigh come from the boy beside me. 

"I bought it for you. You said you need to finish a paper tonight."

"I do. That doesn't require me to be awake for the next week and a half," I answered back with a quirk of my lips as I finally looked up to meet his gaze. We were seated at one of the far tables of the cafe for my 15 minute break, away from the handful of customers scattered on the smattering of tables and high chairs. This has become quite a routine already… but how it started, I can't really explain.

Ever since that first order, Jaemin had made it his routine to drop by almost regularly. At first the banter started similar to how a regular customer and his favorite barista would have, but since he would always come and visit during slow hours, we would always have more time for longer conversations. Casual talk turned into light-hearted jokes, and finally into a kind of banter that comes with familiarity with each other. Slowly, I came to know the complexities of Na Jaemin, and boy, is he an enigma and a paradox rolled in one. 

You never really know what to expect with him. There are days when he would be a bursting ball of energy—most of the time when he would order his drink from hell—but there are also moments when he would be quiet and reserved. I found it odd at first, but slowly accepted it since it didn't really hurt me in the first place. In fact, if I am going to be completely honest, I find this kind of personality set working for me. Imagine gaining two friends, except they're only in one body. 

But that's not the only odd thing in our dynamic, too. If someone would ask me now to describe the kind of friendship I have with him, I wouldn't really know how to explain it. We joke together, laugh together, sometimes even tease the crap out of each other like we've known each other for years. We work well together, but at the same time… I know almost next to nothing about him. I don't know his address, who his other friends are, if he's going to school or not… hell, I don't even know what his number is. Outside of this cafe and his regular visits, I don't have anything to prove that he actually exists. He didn't share, and I also didn't ask. 

Until today.

"Fine. I'm just going to drink this then."

I gasped before shooting him a squinted glare. 

"You are going to burn a hole in your stomach, I swear to god—"

He simply shrugged and made a huge show of sipping the previously untouched tears of Lucifer. 

I reached out to tug at the hood of his jacket in an attempt to call him out when I noticed it. His hair was initially masking it at first but now I could see it in full view: a purple bruise just on the side of his eye, almost to his temple.

"Oh my god, Jaemin. What happened?" I asked in a hurry as I tried to take a closer look at it. His expression changed in a heartbeat as he realized what I saw and he quickly leaned back and pulled the hoodie again over his head. 

"That's—it's nothing." 

"It looks so bad. How did you get that?"

He didn't answer. His eyes avoided my own and his hand gripped the plastic cup between us a little bit tighter. 

"Did you get into a fight?" I pushed, gently this time. 

His gaze moved to meet mine again for a few seconds. It's obvious he was contemplating what and how to answer. 

"Yeah… I got into a bit of a tumble with some friends."

I frowned and crossed my arms over my chest as I leaned back on my seat. He threw me a look that silently asked what else I want from him.

"Look. You don't tell me shit but at least I know enough to be sure you are lying."

Jaemin looked away and started tapping his finger against the table. 

"Why are you… why do you even want to know?"

I looked at him incredulously for a few seconds before leaning over. 

"Because you're my friend and I want to make sure you are okay."

"I am okay."

"Your black eye says otherwise."

"Come on, don't push this. Can't we be friends without," he waved his hand between us. "This?"

"Jaemin, I don't even know who you are."

That made him stop. He stared at me for what felt like a full half minute and that's when I saw it for the first time. The dilemma in his eyes. 

"It was because of work…" 

The look of confusion I made must have been so intense that he quickly tried to jump over it.

"Work—why, what do you—"

"I'm sorry, but that's really all that I can tell you." 

The sound of desperation in his tone wasn't lost on me. He looked so torn that I felt almost guilty for pressing.

"Fine… I won't ask again… As long as you are sure you're fine."

He peered at me once more as if assessing if he was finally off the hook. 

"So...we're still friends?"

"Huh?"

"You and me… we're still friends?"

"Uh, yes…" 

The look of relief on his face made me smile despite myself. He caught it and he made it a point to answer it with his best eye roll. 

"Don't laugh at me. I don't know how to do friends."

"You're so cute~"

"Shut up."

And that was the exact day I decided—I'm never going to let Na Jaemin feel alone again. 

Chapter 2

[makeste]

literally just another giant post of Bakugou faces.

so I did this last year, but I only got up to chapter 120 before I ran out of steam. happily, though, this left me with an additional 190 chapters’ worth of glorious gremlin faces to choose from for this year’s edition! which I figure I had better do, before tumblr finally pulls the plug on my poor sweet image limit.

so without further ado, happy birthday to Kacchan, and happy birthday to Kacchan’s asymmetrical HAH face where his eyes do the thing like ( ◣益◢).

why I like it: so this is from Kirishima’s flashback in chapter 133, where Kirishima was getting all down on himself because his quirk Only Does One Thing, and Kacchan was all “nah bro don’t worry about it because your One Thing is totally fucking rad, and you’re strong enough to withstand anything.” so that of course was incredibly sweet, and one of the few times we’ve seen him give an actual heartfelt pep talk without so much as a single insult thrown into the mix. but what really puts this scene over the top for me is the fact that you can see the ever-so-subtle hints of guilt and regret when he talks about All Might and Kamino. for just a moment, he gets this distant look in his eyes, and his expression turns soft and contemplative. basically this is a rare collector’s edition Kacchan face you will not find in many other places.

why I like it: because this frankly needs to happen in every damn fight until this kid finally gets it through his thick skull to ditch the mask so we can see every fantastic facial expression in full 4k glory. work with me here please Kacchan.

why I like it: because character growth!! this was our first big moment of post-DvK2 Kacchan development, and the payoff was well worth the wait. it only took him 166 chapters to realize that it’s hard to grow as a person if you’re determined to be a humongous dick to every single person you meet!! lmao, but it’s progress though.

why I like it: these two panels are criminally underrated. the way his face transforms when Deku gets the answer wrong dlkjfldk. this is easily one of the funniest subtle gags in the entire series.

why I like it: “hey Bakugou do you want to play in our band?” “fuck you, no.” “pretty please.” “fine, but I refuse to call it a band.” “well then what do you want to call it -- ” “MURDER.”

why I like it: GONNA MURDER EVERYONE BY PLAYING THE DRUMS!!!! SOMEHOW WE’VE SUCCESSFULLY COMPARTMENTALIZED THIS SCHOOL-SANCTIONED DISPLAY OF PERFORMING ARTS AS A DEATH MATCH. OH TO UNDERSTAND THE INNER WORKINGS OF THIS YOUNG MAN’S MIND.

why I like it: hah?! I love how he has to tilt his neck all the way back every single time he does this. he’s so cute I love him so much.

why I like it: somewhere around this point in the manga Kacchan decided to do away with being handsome and decided to just be a full-time gremlin in every single panel. this persisted for the next 90 chapters or so and he was very dedicated. I’m pretty sure he was going for vulgar and intimidating, but unfortunately for him he’s too inherently adorable and so the end result is just endearing and almost charming in its own way.

why I like it: this was from chapter 194 when Aizawa was announcing that they’d have a special guest for the Joint Training arc, and so Kacchan was all “BOY OH BOY A NEW ASS TO KICK.”

why I like it: more character development! and just look at that confidence! he’s fully recovered from his low point after Kamino and the provisional exam. he knows what he’s about now, and he is THRIVING. and once again you can see how his conviction inspires the people around him and makes them more determined. just, he is going to be such a good number one hero you guys.

why I like it: it’s the three little “!!!” lines hovering in the corner next to his head for me. “oh my god it’s All Might, All Might saw me being cool and Saving To Win and stuff, what’s he gonna say what do I do omg quick act natural.”

why I like it: QUICK HIDE YOUR FEELINGS!! WE CAN’T LET THE NEIGHBORS KNOW WE CARE. fjkdlsjklk

why I like it: this is his expression when he first sees Deku activate Blackwhip for the first time. it’s one of the few unguarded expressions of complete surprise that we’ve gotten from him and I love it thank you.

why I like it: classic asymmetrical HAH face. he truly has perfected this look. look at him, casually clinging to a pole for no reason other than to look dynamic. this boy truly cannot sit or stand or walk or do anything normally. he spent three months working his ass off to catch up to Deku and the others, and now that he finally has he’s filled with so much pent-up energy that he simply cannot hold it back anymore and he’s gotta climb a pole. he’s just gotta.

why I like it: because he is so fucking good at saving people now you guys, he’s like a whole-ass professional and shit, and yet it hasn’t changed who he is one single iota. he will save your life and he will SCREAM AT YOU WHILE DOING IT and you’ll sit there and be grateful goddammit.

why I like it: o noo he was caught unawares. All Might was all “I’m gonna have a dad moment and nobody can stop me” and he walked right up to him and put his hand on his head because he’s All Might and so what is he even gonna do about it. nothing, that’s what. you got played, Kacchan. outmaneuvered and outfoxed. all he can do is stand there and make that grumpy face he makes when he’s receiving unwanted affection (҂⌣̀_⌣́).

why I like it: more unwanted affection. now they’re even feeding him ffs. how could he let this happen. mm chicken.

why I like it: GREATEST ASYMETRICAL HAH?! FACE OF ALL TIME. out of all the people to befriend him against his will, Todoroki is by far the most confusing to him and it’s just so great.

why I like it: this is when Hawks is staring at him in chapter 244 because he fake-killed his mentor and stuff and he feels sorta guilty about it. but meanwhile Kacchan just thinks he’s trying to start some shit, and so he’s all “I WAS FASTER THAN YOU BACK THERE YOU KNOW” and Hawks is all “hahaha okay little buddy you just keep telling yourself that”, because as previously discussed Kacchan is too adorable to ever be intimidating.

why I like it: this is from 246 when he’s in the middle of arguing with Burnin’ and all of a sudden Endeavor calls to him and he’s just like o shit what’d I do.

why I like it: because Endeavor’s mentoring them and shit and he’s just casually sitting there eating his lunch like yeah. with his lil hamster cheeks lulz.

why I like it: the look that instantly became iconic. this panel cured me of the misconception that Bakugou “goes to bed at 8:30pm” Katsuki was a morning person. the truth is he loathes all times of the day equally.

why I like it: this one is a team effort because Deku’s faces are equally as good. I’m genuinely shocked that this family dinner with the Todorokis didn’t prematurely unlock Danger Sense. you can tell that he and Deku have a silent agreement to call a temporary truce on their rivalry for as long as they sit at this table as outsiders in this strange land. this is by far the most hazardous meal Bakugou has ever experienced, and yet the mapo tofu is too good to go to waste, so he’s just shoveling it down his throat trying to finish as much as possible before shit inevitably hits the fan.

why I like it: Kacchan is New Here so he doesn’t yet realize that if the Todorokis are spilling family secrets, there is always inevitably going to be someone listening in the shadows just outside the door.

why I like it: the battle with Ending was probably peak gremlin!Kacchan. like, we’ve had gremlin before and afterwards, but never quite to this same degree. Horikoshi really decided to push the limits of contorting this child’s face in the strangest ways.

why I like it: peak. gremlin.

why I like it: nothing to see here, just Kacchan quietly realizing after 252 chapters that he MIGHT have been just a BIT of a cartoonishly villainous asshole to Deku back at the beginning there ha ha ha oh god oh fuck.

why I like it: because he found the answer to What It Is That He Lacks, and he’s all cool and calm and infuriatingly secretive about it. it’s such a sudden and stark contrast to the gremlin faces he was making only moments earlier, and it makes this moment hit home that much more.

why I like it: because this is him being friends with Deku!! like for real though!! because he’s fucking around and insulting him and making weird faces and stuff, but it’s because in his mind That’s What Friends Do. they clown on each other and help each other train and shit. half an hour after this they’ll go down to the training gym and play Catch-A-Kacchan, and then he’ll quietly confess to All Might that he wants to atone. he may be a gremlin, but he’s a gremlin with layers goddammit.

why I like it: because this is right after TomurAFO shows up out of nowhere and scares the shit out of him and Deku and makes them see a terrifying death vision and stuff, and you can see how shaken up he is by it. he definitely understands how close they came to dying just then and he’s sobered the fuck up. this is the moment when it really sinks in that shit has gotten real. eight minutes from now he’ll move without thinking and save Deku’s life.

why I like it: hydro homies. nothing restores those electrolytes like good old Raquaius Sports Drink.

why I like it: because this panel was when it started to become clear that the real reason he grabbed this sports drink was to pretend like he was busy so he could act like he wasn’t interested in Deku’s training because god forbid the neighbors know that he actually cares.

why I like it: because the sideways glance!! and the fact that he doesn’t deny it!! in fact he does the opposite of denying it, and he basically starts pouring his heart out about how goddamn worried he actually is. he’s guilty and anxious and restless and this entire conversation is amazing.

why I like it: he looks so goddamn young here. when he finally stops scrunching up his face and putting on his usual tough guy act and for once allows his actual emotions to show on his face instead, the result is so damn striking. for once we got an entire conversation with no gremlin faces, because Horikoshi had to drop them completely in order to show just how serious he is here. which was incredibly effective btw.

why I like it: because he’s basically just fidgeting with the bottle now to avoid making eye contact with All Might because he just revealed a deep dark secret to him and he’s precariously vulnerable right now. that’s the body language of a kid who knows how badly he fucked up, and just wants to hear from someone else if it’s going to be okay, if he can still make it okay. he looks so small here.

why I like it: the worry lines under his eyes. the look of uncertainty and wanting to believe that what All Might says is true (“you’ll get a chance to talk eventually”). the hesitance to turn back and look at him, and the way he doesn’t dare until he finally gets that small bit of reassurance. All Might isn’t judging him. All Might understands him and understands where he’s coming from, and he’s giving him his blessing. he’s giving him a thumbs up and reassuring him that he sees the change in him and sees that he’s sincerely trying, and basically saying that he has faith that he and Deku will be able to work it out. and you can see that it means a lot.

why I like it: because this kid spent his entire internship with Jeanist doing nothing but bitching nonstop, and then later on when Jeanist went missing he was all tight-lipped about it because once again NOBODY CAN KNOW THAT WE CARE GODDAMMIT, and it was all very Classic Bakugou. but then Jeanist finally shows up again at Jakku, and we get this little moment of happy, smirky FUCK YEAH, I KNEW YOU WEREN’T DEAD YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE, and it’s just the best.

why I like it: HE’S SO UNABASHEDLY PROUD GOD BLESS HIM.

why I like it: because he nearly died and then he woke up here in the hospital two days later not knowing where anybody else is or whether they’re even still alive, and this, my friends. this is finally the moment. the moment where he was all FUCK IT, MAYBE WE CAN LET THE NEIGHBORS KNOW WE CARE AFTER ALL. character fucking development. you love to see it.

BONUS:

WHAT HAVE I BECOME, MY SWEETEST FRIEND. EVERYONE I KNOW GOES AWAY IN THE END.

happy birthday Katsuki. feel better sweetie. HORIKOSHI YOU BETTER TREAT HIM RIGHT I AM COUNTING ON YOU.

[regrettablewritings]

ahh you write foggy so well!! please can i request m, o, r and u from the alphabet prompts with him please? tysm 🥺❤️

M (Memory - what's their favorite memory together?): Like most his most cherished memories from his adult life, there is drinking involved. Unlike most of his most cherished memories from adulthood, however, it started off on a somber note. Certainly, it was no skin off his ass that you finally realized that the guy you had been seeing was actually an asshole – that just proved Foggy’s previous observations right and finally got you away from that creep. But that being said, it wasn’t as though Foggy necessarily enjoyed being correct: Nobody wishes an asshole on anyone they care about, let alone had a particular soft spot for.

You’d been putting on a brave front since that day but the closer the weekend drew, the more that façade began to crumble. He didn’t have to ask you to know that your plans come Friday night were going to involve holing yourself up in your apartment, subsisting on takeout and wine bought from the bodega next door, and putting on Netflix both as background noise and so your neighbors wouldn’t hear your crying as clearly. However, as he knocked on your door hours after you’d surely arrived, he realized he probably should’ve asked to be invited over. And judging by the weak attempt at a glower your puffy, red eyes gave him, you had probably been thinking the same thing.

Oh, well: He brought cheesecake and a pie from your favorite pizzeria that you didn’t have the energy to go to. That was good enough to get into your kingdom of sadness, you supposed.

Another thing that made this memory unlike most of Foggy’s favorable ones was that it was awkward. Not the entire time, at least, but the first hour and a half was just plain weird. To be fair, he had been the one to come on over, interrupting your pre-planned routine of slumping on the couch and staring blankly at whatever the randomizer picked for you. He honestly wasn’t sure what he meant to do beyond this, though. Talk, maybe? Wait, was he even good about talking about these kinds of things? Furthermore, did you even feel like talking about it?

It took a few glasses, but apparently you did. And boy, did you have a lot to say, with the cherry on the icing being that you two hadn’t even been serious and yet you’d let him effect you this hard – it sent you down a vortex of pissed off you hadn’t been in in years.

And Foggy sat through it all. Not just staring blankly and nodding along when it felt appropriate, either: He was genuinely listening to you grieve your lost time and broken trust. As stated before, he knew the guy was bad news, but he still never want you to feel this hurt. But you did. And the least he could do was at least be the support you needed, to prove that you could still trust someone in this time when most would probably just scoff at you and tell you it wasn’t a big deal. Because at the end of the day, it arguably wasn’t.

But that didn’t mean how you felt wasn’t big or real. And for as frustrating as it all was, you had to learn to be okay with all that.

. . . You also had to learn to be okay with laughing, even while grieving.

Despite listening intently, Foggy honestly doesn’t remember if you’d actually been complaining about the dude’s clothes up to that point, let alone at all. It honestly wouldn’t have been out of character for him to have just taken the initiative to say that his wardrobe looked like “dollar store Yeezy.”

It was therefore pretty fitting that he corrected it: “Actually, wait, no: Dollar Tree helped put me through college; I can’t do them dirty like that. Okay, so he’s more like, uh . . . Salvation Army. He’s Salvation Army Yeezy: Just taking and wasting people’s time and money and using that existence to haunt gays and the homeless.”

Foggy wasn’t really entirely sure what he was going for when he’d said it. Sure, he wanted to make you laugh, but you probably weren’t in the mood for it. Nevertheless, he saw it: That telltale twitch of a smile threatening to come through.

“Don’t make me laugh, Foggy, this is serious,” you insisted. So of course, he proceeded to crack even more jokes, making your brow furrow more and more until your face hurt too much to even try and keep back the laughter. Heck, releasing the laughter didn’t help soothe the pain but by then, you were too far gone to even care.

From then on, it was admittedly a bit of a blur – your bad for convincing him to drink the crappy bodega wine you’d purchased earlier. But from the spotty recollections he did have, things clearly picked up from then. Yes, there was still ranting, even the occasional moment when you started crying again. But they were far outnumbered by the laughter; the flinging of popcorn at the TV during some hokey romcom you’d put on; the genuine enjoyment of a childhood classic being put on instead; the dramatic readings of your texts with Jackasshole McGhee.

Then there was, of course, the cuddling. It didn’t matter that the power of hindsight could change the context: You two weren’t together romantically at that point. And while Foggy certainly had his interests in you, he wasn’t about to take advantage of the situation. What you needed in that moment was a friend; someone with whom you could feel comfortable with and feel safe by. That, and his body essentially made him a humanoid teddy bear.

While he had definitely been drunker before, he could tell even then that he was going to be hurting in the morning from all this. But as he began to nod off and feel your arms wrap around him, he didn’t care.

The stale apartment air stung of alcohol and was thick with greasy cheese from the long-gone pizza; the sound of some movie he’d already forgotten the name of practically sounded like a hum to his fading senses; the sitting position he’d assumed on the couch was definitely going to leave a crick in his neck in a matter of minutes; and even though he could’ve sworn you’d just been muttering something or another, he could feel your slacked mouth letting drool loose onto his shirt.

He would never want anything about this memory to change. Except maybe no hangover, of course. But for what it was, it was always something he loved to go back to.

O (Obvious - how do they show they're together?): Insert the clip of John Mulaney going, “THAT’S MY W I F E!” only instead of “wife”, I have heavily and poorly edited “girlfriend” in a tone that does not match the gusto or volume of the previous words.

Seriously, I hope you don’t mind Foggy being That Guy, but he’s going to probably wind up being That Guy. If he asks you to grab something, expect a pet name to come before the actual request: There’s a lot of “Hey, babe, could you –“, “Hey, honey, would you mind –“, and even the occasional “Heeeeyyy, Sugarpants!” Especially if Matt is within earshot (which, let’s face it, he will never not be.)

In addition to this, lots of proclaiming that he’s dating someone, even when you’re not around.

“Lemme ask my better half” this, “Hey, do you think my sweetheart would” that. And god forbid he gets buzzed at Josie’s: The only reason nobody’s socked him for drunkenly bellowing on about how cool you are, or worshipping you for getting a Trivia Night question right is because more than half the regulars there owe him and Matt for their legal services. That, and they quite like you themselves.

But let’s make something abundantly clear: Nobody likes you as much as Foggy likes you. Like, it’s obvious to say, but Foggy likes you a lot. Both as a friend, a lover, and as a person.

Yes, his constant crowing and practical recreation of the meme of Will presenting Jada can be a bit much, but that’s simply one of his many ways of showing you he cares. He’s proud to be with someone like you, and he’s astonished that somebody like you would want to be with somebody like him. Not that he’s going to look this gift horse in the mouth: Nah, he’s taking this filly for a ride about town, showing it off for all the worth he sees in it. If he could pen a Broadway show in your honor . . . Nah, he probably wouldn’t. Maybe. But until he’s convinced about that, Foggy would gladly entwine your hand with his as you both walk the streets of Manhattan.

(Bonus points if you silence his crowing with a kiss.)

R (Romantic - what kind of gifts do they give?): Let’s be frank here: Foggy is a bit of a cheapskate. Not that he could be blamed for it: He was raised that way for one thing, and he lives in Manhattan for another. Being cheap and airing on the side of caution financially is one of the many tactics keeping him alive in this crazy city.

That being said, he can’t help but want to spoil you as best as he can. Nothing too crazy, there’s no diamond jewelry or anything, of course. But maybe a bouquet of your favorite flowers gets sent to your place of work because he knows you hate Tuesdays more than Mondays. Or maybe you come home to find a bottle of your favorite perfume or cologne waiting for you. Or your weekend may include those baked goods that you can only find in Chinatown or Little Italy.

His time with Hogarth, Chao & Benowitz might not’ve been the longest, but the exposure to a certain level of clientele made itself known when he found himself able to snag some Broadway tickets. Those were fun times . . . But they weren’t permanent times.

Foggy would never regret reforming Nelson & Murdock (& Page) – he couldn’t. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t miss some of the opportunities working at a more established (and rich) firm allowed him. You may honestly have to affectionately bonk him on the head and remind him that you’re with him not for what he can provide you material-wise, but from what he provides for you mentally and emotionally. (And physically, of course, but mostly those first two.)

Nowadays, your gifts tend to be on the lower end in terms of finances. Not that it matters to you: You have just as much fun watching Foggy try to win you the stuffed frog at Coney Island as you do actually being able to hug it if once he wins it.

And besides, to anyone else, all Foggy did was find a novelty mug at a shop or a random rock during a walk through Central Park. But to you, they’re additions to the collect you’d started even before the both of you got together. Part of his job is remembering even the smallest details, after all: He would never forget the things that make you happy, no matter their cost.

U (Unity - what would their wedding be like?): About a quarter of him would want the whole business: Big cathedral, pews packed with people witnessing your commitment to one another, a limo waiting outside, big ole fancy cake from some ma and pop bakery that’s survived gentrification, all that jazz.

But the other 75% of him knows that there’s no sense in all that: Besides Matt and Karen, he really doesn’t have a whole lotta friends or family to invite, let alone ones he keeps in contact with enough to invite to his wedding. He may want packed pews, but he’s not so desperate as to track down his fifth grade science partner for fodder. Sure, he could probably ask the folks down at Josie’s if they’d like to come, but he knows they’d probably mostly just send their regards and a wedding gift of six-packs and condoms and “congratulations” cards from Duane Reed. And this is before taking into account whether or not you had a slew of people to invite. Or dwelling on how the wedding industry was essentially a con that pressured couples into throwing extravagant parties that would start their marriage off in debt.

The church wouldn’t be a giant cathedral, and it’s for the better. Even if you have your own people to invite, the turnout is small – just as you two wanted it to be. It makes for a quiet, intimate ceremony, one that allows you both the freedom to be the forward, humorous, yet dedicated couple you’d become known for being. Besides, everyone knows the reception is where it’s at.

In the realm of possibilities where he had a client from HC&B who owed him, he might manage to get a roof-top bar secured. Not much décor gets done besides the usual tablecloths and perhaps some centerpieces. Maybe there’s some tulle placed tastefully about the bamboo poles (because there will always be bamboo poles at these freaking places). There’s no catering: Why bother when y’all can just have a potluck? Some may call it trashy, but you and Foggy know it as “avoiding buying further into the wedding industry’s tendency to rob newlyweds blind”.

But to each their own.

Admittedly, it’s far from being the fanciest thing you’ve ever attended, never mind it being your own wedding. But at the end of the day, you truly couldn’t care less. Was it anything like the wedding of your dreams you’d thought about while growing up? Not at all. But by the fact that you had married Foggy, it was already legions better. Besides, dream weddings were what the vow renewals were for. Tonight was just about the both of you sealing the deal to love one another as long as you could stand it, to eat as much cake as you could, and to hold one another’s hand until the inevitable call of nature demanded a temporary separation.

Oh, and for Foggy to gain +1 in Relationship to evolve from saying “THAT’S MY girlfriend” to “THAT’S MY W I F E.” Suffice to say, you would marry that man all over again in a heartbeat.

Thank you so so so so much for being patient, bean! Hope it was even somewhat worth the wait!!

[kagstea]

kageyama t. - purple hearts

kageyama tobio x f!reader

description: kageyama always showed a slight interest in certain love letters of yours, but you never thought they would be so important.

warnings: angst (as always)

At least a couple times a week, you opened your locker to find a few letters. They were confessions, of course. While you appreciate them, you never bothered to read them since you wouldn’t accept any. They all went in your bag, before finding their way into a metal box under your bed. From there they would remain until you would eventually get curious, and open them in the near future.

“Ah, another love letter for Karasuno’s princess?” Hinata mocked one day after class.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” You asked him, turning the letter over in your hand and glancing at the sticker that sealed it quickly.

He leaned against the locker next to yours. “I’m waiting for Kageyama and- Well, speak of the devil.”

The boy walked towards you two. “What?”

You shook your head. “Nothing. What took you so long?”

Kageyama eyed the letter in your grasp. “I forgot something. Is that another purple heart?”

While you received all kinds of letters, the ones sealed with a purple heart were always consistent. The sender never failed to deliver at least once a month, and although you never opened any of them, it warmed your heart that the person continued to hold some love for you.

“Mhm.” You grinned, carefully placing it in your bag. “I was worried for a bit that they wouldn’t send it this month, but I should’ve known better.” 

The three of you settled into a soft pace while walking out the school. Granted, the two of them had volleyball practice, but that never stopped them from walking you to the school entrance after the school day was finished.

With crossed arms, Hinata looked at you. “I don’t get it, Y/N. How come you don’t open them?”

“I don’t want to look at someone’s confession when I’m not going to like them back-”

“Ohh! Is it because you like someone?” His cheeky grin grew wide.

The abruptness of his question caught you off guard. With panic, you glanced at Kageyama, who was quiet throughout the conversation. But he didn’t seem bothered or even interested. It gave a funny feeling to your stomach.

With a scoff, you brushed his question off. “S-shut up! Why would you even ask something like that?” The tone of your voice lowered, and you avoided Hinata’s gaze knowing that on your cheeks lay an aggressive blush. “Anyways, I have to go home. Have fun at practice, guys!”

“Bye!” The two waved, watching as you disappeared before turning to each other. “Race you to the gym.”

~

After another month, you were pleased to find a familiar letter in your locker. The sight of it had you smiling before you could stop yourself.

“What are you smiling at?” 

“Oh, my gosh! Tobio! Make some noise!” His sudden appearance startled you. You clenched the letter to your chest and tried to calm yourself down. Kageyama only raised an eyebrow at your reaction.

“I was standing here for two minutes already.”

“And you didn’t bother to let me know that?”

He shrugged, sticking his hands in his pockets. “Purple heart again?”

This time, you didn’t try to hide your small smile. “Yeah. Don’t you have practice-”

“It’s cancelled because of the weather. Want to walk home together?” Kageyama held up an umbrella, prompting you to look outside. The gentle but growing falling of the rain already had you shivering.

“Yes, please.” You answered with eagerness, earning a grin from him.

As soon as the two of you stepped outside, you didn’t hesitate to cling to Kageyama’s side. While part of it was to keep both of you under the safety of the umbrella, another part saw it as an opportunity to be close to the person you had feelings for.

“Your shoulder’s getting wet.” You frowned, tugging him closer.

“It’s fine.”

“If you get sick, you can’t play volleyball, Tobio.” That logic allowed him to relax against your touch. “Sometimes I wonder how you would get through life without me.” You joked.

But he nodded. “Then, let’s promise to never find out.”

His response made your heart flutter. There were times when you wondered if he could possibly reciprocate your feelings. But you always talked yourself out of it, knowing that dating was one of the last things on his mind at the moment. Kageyama was always setting up the foundation for his volleyball career. There was no way he would set aside time to like someone.

Still, it was nice to even imagine.

“Unfortunately, I think I’m stuck with you. Have fun getting rid of me.” As he looked down at you, you stuck your tongue out playfully, making him let out a quick chuckle.

“Yeah, yeah. That’s until you open one of those damn letters and leave me.”

He meant it as a joke, but the reality of his words struck your heart. Slowly, your smile faded from your face, and you held his arm tighter. An unsettling silence bloomed as you stared at your feet.

Suddenly, the question tore from your throat. “Do you… do you think I would ever open them?”

Kageyama took a second, before asking you, “What reason do you have to not open them?” When you didn’t answer, he cleared his throat. “I mean, it’s not like you already have someone you like… do you?”

You should have told him. At that moment, you should have poured your heart out to him. But the fear of your confession backfiring held you back. Despite your heart screaming not to, you shook your head. “I don’t.”

Kageyama opened his mouth to say something, but his better judgment stopped him. “I see.”

You had to know now. “Well, how about you. Do you have someone that you… you know… like?”

It hurt you when he spoke.

“Yeah, I do.”

Those words made your heart twitch. Of course he already had someone he liked. It was only natural. Hearing that, you subconsciously loosened your hold on him. The walk home now seemed longer and it was killing you.

Once you two made it to your home, you suddenly were filled with nothing but regret. As you watched Kageyama go, a new realization hit. While you didn’t technically lose him, it sure felt like you did. 

~

It was almost a blessing you didn’t attend his wedding, though you knew you would regret it. That still didn’t stop you from finding an opportunity to miss it via a work excuse. That was what Hinata said he would tell him at the reception.

Work was a good distraction. After all, it had been a good six years since you had last seen Kageyama at graduation. Your friendship was never the same after that rainy day, so you were surprised to receive a wedding invitation.

Although, you had yet to get a physical copy of the invitation. You had first heard word about the wedding through Hinata, who claimed Kageyama had personally thought about asking you to come. Though apparently an invitation was mailed, you never received it.

“Are you sure you can’t make it even to the reception?” Hinata asked you over the phone on your way home. “I’ll come get you right now, if you want.”

You smiled at his consideration. “No, that’s fine. It was a long day at work, I’m not sure I have the energy to even make it home. Just take lots of pictures to show me, alright?”

There was a pause on his end. “Okay, Y/N. Get home safe.”

“I will.” You told him before ending the call. A part of you suspected Hinata had once known about your feelings for his friend, but at this age you were grateful he never did anything.

It only took a half hour to get back to your apartment. Your feet were killing you and all you wanted was to just curl up in bed and fall asleep. Inside, you told yourself it was karma for finding an excuse to miss the wedding when you easily could have just gone. But, you’d rather be physically drained than mentally, so you convinced yourself it was a good choice.

Upon making your way to your door, a white envelope caught your eye. It was set right in front of your door. It wasn’t there before you left in the morning, so someone must have dropped it off while you were at work. Your legs burned as you reached down to grab it, carefully studying the handwriting on it. Of course, it was addressed to you, but when you turned it around, you almost dropped it.

Right in the middle of the envelope was a small, purple heart sticker, sealing it. It had been years since you had seen it, and your hands shook gently. Wasting no time, you carefully opened the letter, curious to find out who the sender was after all this time.

As soon as you pulled the contents from the envelope, a breath got caught in the back of your throat. You almost forgot how to breathe as you overlooked the invitation to Kageyama’s wedding. Overwhelmed, tears began to build up in your eyes. You reached into your bag, digging for your keys to unlock your door. Once you were in, you ran straight to your room and kneeled on the ground.

You almost thanked your younger self for bringing that metal box with you when you moved. For years, it had remained under your bed without you having a single thought of going through it. But now you were, specifically for the letters sealed by that damn sticker.

You grabbed the first one you saw, ripping it open with a sense of urgency. As you read the letter, your throat started to burn.

Dear, Y/N,

Today I accidentally bought two banana milks, so I gave one to you. You instantly drank it, and then took a nap on your desk right after. I know you probably won’t read this for a while, so I thought I would tell you how pretty you looked. Even with your hair sticking to your face because of your drooling, you still looked pretty.

That’s all.

Bye.

It was funny how you knew exactly what he was talking about. For you, you could remember that day as if it were yesterday. You wondered if it was the same for him.

Dear Y/N,

I know I like you, but I didn’t know it was possible to like you more. You proved that to me, when you showed up to our game today. I almost went the entire play without knowing you were there, but something made me look up into the stands, which I’m glad.

You’re always pretty, but seeing you in that moment cheering us on made me realize you are the prettiest in the world. I really mean that, so don’t think of yourself as less.

This seems forward, but I hope that even in the future, you’ll still come to my games so I can see your prettiness. But honestly, even if you don’t come, just stick by my side. That’s enough for me.

His words brought a painful smile to your face. It felt like you were talking to a younger Kageyama. Even today, you questioned if he remembered what he wrote to you.

All the letters were random, but managed to tug at your heart. You could recall every single moment that he wrote about, and it killed you how you never opened them sooner. It all made sense now. He would always mention the letters when you got them, and he lingered around your locker many times, no doubt waiting for you to turn your back so he could slip it in. You started to beat yourself up for not noticing that those were his letters, and you put them with the other confessions in the tiny metal box.

Finally, you reached the last letter he sent you. It was the last, because in the bottom corner he wrote goodbye in small writing. It took a moment to build up the courage to read it.

Dear Y/N,

This will probably be the last letter. I made sure you would know it’s the last, if you ever read it. 

It’s been a few months since that day. Even though I know you don’t have feelings for me, I still did for you. I still do.

But it’s not doing either of us any good if I keep going. So I’ll stop for our sake.

That doesn’t mean I don’t love you, because I do. And I wish I could tell it to you in person, but I’m a coward, so I won’t. And you’ll never know if you don’t read this, so I’m really pushing my luck.

Thanks for being my first love. I wish you weren’t, because first loves never work out. But still, you were my friend too. And you were always by my side, even when I probably didn’t deserve you.

Anyways, I hope you read this letter before graduation. Perhaps that’s the boost we need to save our friendship, at least. Even if you don’t, and I’m talking to future Y/N, please come see me. I’m sure future me is waiting for you because I’m afraid I could never stop loving you.

That’s all, Y/N. Oh, and I also put some of the purple heart stickers in the envelope in case you ever miss them. Just don’t waste them, okay?

The letter was almost drenched in your tears. Sure enough, there were stickers in the envelope. The same ones he used every month that had you smiling even for a second when you saw them. 

But seeing them now just brought you pain.

Especially when they were on his wedding invitation. An invitation that did not have your name along with his, and never will.

[honeypiehotchner]

intelligence & issues (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- chapter twenty-two

I’m liking this two updates a week schedule because I hate leaving you guys hanging like that!! I hope this chapter makes it all better xx.

Oh btw the title of this chapter and last chapter are lyrics from “Hold On” by Chord Overstreet! (Also I know the gif is irrelevant but the ~emotion~ of it is relevant)

ALSO (wow I have a lot I keep forgetting to add) I meant to @ her last chapter, but all of these medical scenes and things were 100% done with the help of @thedumpsterqueen​ because I know next to nothing about all this stuff and she was an angel and let me ask all the crazy questions <333 (P.S. she has a Hotch fic called Standards of Performance on her blog that you guys should alllll read if you haven’t already!! It’s SO good it’s one of my favorites)

Warnings: angst and sadness, but that’s pretty much it

Previous chapter || Fic Masterlist

Chapter Twenty-Two: I can’t imagine a world with you gone

Everything is a blur in Hotch’s mind before and after the first gunshot rings through the air. He didn’t need to hear the buzzing in his ear to know it had hit you.

He took off at a sprint, as did the rest of the team.

His ears are ringing. His thoughts are racing. He’s never been a man who talks frequently to God, but he’s praying. Hoping you’re alive. Begging you to not be dead.

Aaron would never forgive himself if you died. As it stands, though, he won’t ever forgive himself for this.

Prentiss, Reid, and Rossi take off in one direction. Hotch and Morgan take the other. Police officers fill the gaps and follow behind, everyone searching for you and Savannah.

Morgan is the first to stumble on the room. His throat aches when he screams for Hotch, keeping his weapon aimed at Savannah.

“Put the gun down!” Morgan yells.

Hotch comes skidding to a stop in the doorway a second later, weapon raised, but his eyes are focused on you. Savannah’s boot is pressing into your thigh, blood oozing from your wound, soaking your pants, spilling onto the concrete. Hotch’s heart drops at the sight. He’s seen enough bullet wounds to know how much blood should come from them. That is too much.

The bullet must’ve hit the major artery. And the thought terrifies him.

Morgan takes the shot when Savannah refuses to move. It hits her stomach and she stumbles for a moment before falling. Morgan yells for the paramedics again, distantly thinking they should be in here by now.

Hotch falls to the ground beside you, his hands cupping your face, not caring who sees. His thumbs tap your cheeks, willing you to open your eyes. You have a pulse, but it’s weak. Weaker than what it should be.

He presses hard over your wound, hoping to slow the bleeding, but there’s more surrounding your leg than he wants to see.

“Y/N?” He says, his eyes watching your eyelids for any movement. He lets out a momentary sigh of relief when your eyes open. “Y/N, please, can you hear me?”

You stare back at him, no signs of his words registering in your eyes. They’re empty. Haunted, again, but for a different reason this time. This time it’s different. “Aaron…”

“I’m here,” Hotch says gently, pressing his hand harder, his heart breaking when you groan in pain. “I know,” he says, shushing you.

Your eyes travel around the room then, and Aaron follows. Morgan is pressing his hand over Savannah’s wound, speaking into his wrist, asking the others where the hell the paramedics are at.

But Aaron doesn’t want you to see that, so he cups your jaw again, turning your eyes back on him. He smiles as best he can, the tears beginning to spill from his eyes as he takes in your face.

“There’s my girl,” he says softly. “Keep holding on. They’re almost here.”

“Aaron,” you try to say, your voice low and strained, and Aaron shakes his head, trying to get you to stop talking. “Aaron...I don’t wanna go without-- I need to tell you that I--”

“Shhh,” he tries again, not wanting you to waste any energy. “You don’t need to.”

“I love you,” you finally get it out. And he’s stunned to complete silence and tears. “I love you so...so much. It hurts.”

“Y/N,” he says, panicked. Your eyes are closing. “Y/N! Come back, Y/N, come back to me. Y/N. Y/N, please.”

Hotch is too caught up in holding your face and keeping pressure on your wound to notice the paramedics have arrived. One team goes to Savannah, relieving Morgan, while the other comes to you, trying to usher Hotch away, but he doesn’t budge.  

“Hotch,” Morgan tugs on the unit chief, grabbing at his arms, his heart breaking for the both of you. “Hotch, you need to let them get to her.”

Reluctantly, Hotch backs up, clenching his bloodied fist, grimacing at the way your blood sticks his skin together.

Everything else is a blur.

What does it need to be clear for, anyway? If you’re not here?

+++

You’re still in surgery.

It’s been an hour. But it feels longer. It feels like it’s been an entire twenty-four hours.

The entire team has taken up camp in a waiting room at the hospital.

Reid is reading and rereading every magazine he can get his hands on to distract himself, never mind the fact that he reads them so fast that he rips a page on one from turning it so quickly. Morgan has Garcia on the phone and has left to get coffee at least three times, the first time returning with a tray of steaming cups and the next two times returning with only one, but two tearful eyes. Emily has been pacing and will wear a hole into the tile at this rate if she walks for another hour. JJ has been staring at the wall, chewing so hard on the inside of her cheek that she flinches when she draws blood.

Rossi has been staring at the wall, too, but mostly he’s been worrying about and watching Hotch.

Aaron has been biting his nails, tugging at his hair, angrily wiping away tears, and left once to go on a walk before returning two minutes later, asking if they had heard anything. Those two minutes had felt like two hours and he was worried sick for all 120 seconds that he missed something.

Dave hasn’t tried to say anything to Aaron, though he wants to. It’s heartbreaking to watch Aaron like this.

You’re going to pull through. Dave — and the rest of the team — can’t afford to think otherwise. And they refuse to think otherwise, unable to imagine what it would be like if you weren’t here.

But it seems like Aaron is thinking otherwise.

Truthfully, he is. But he’s thinking about so much more.

You love him. You love him. You love him.

And he was too stunned to say it back. The one chance he had, and it might be gone now. Ripped away. Forever.

He sent you in there. He did this to you. He had his reservations, but the call had already been made. You seemed so sure. You wanted to do this so badly. He didn’t want another fight about him not trusting you because it’s not about his trust for you, it’s about how terrified he was for you.

He’ll never forgive himself for this now. Not ever.

It’s a world he can’t even bear to imagine. One without you in it.

Yet here he is, grappling with the fact that he might not have to imagine it soon. He sent you in there. He knowingly put your life in danger. And now he’ll have to live with the consequences.

+++

Aaron is shaken from his trance by the doctor and a nurse coming in to inform the team that you’re out of surgery and that it went well.

But you’re in the ICU.

“She lost a great deal of blood,” the doctor says gravely. “But we think she’ll pull through. She just needs to be watched closely for the time being.”

Everyone nods silently, not sure of what else to say, other than feeling relief that you’re alive.

“Visiting hours are long over, so I recommend you all get some rest,” the nurse says. “She’s in good hands here.”

“Thank you,” Rossi replies.

The doctor excused himself, but the nurse stayed, offering to answer any extra questions. “Visiting hours start at seven a.m.,” she says first. “And in the ICU, only two visitors are allowed in her room at a time.” She doesn’t voice an apology, but one is in her tone as she glances between the six team members.

“Can I stay?” Hotch blurts out of nowhere. The team member’s heads all turn to look at him in surprise. “Can anyone stay the night, I mean.”

“Uh, yeah,” the nurse nods. “One person can.” Her eyebrows furrow sincerely. “Are you her dad?”

Morgan internalizes a snort.

“No,” Hotch replies kindly. “I’m not, but I’d like to stay. I’m her boss.”

Still the nurse looks skeptical. “Would she be okay with—”

“She’s his girlfriend,” Emily blurts out, tired of waiting. And when Hotch sends her a look, she says, “What? It would’ve taken you hours to say it.”

“Oh,” the nurse chuckles, embarrassed. “I’m so sorry. Yes, of course you can stay.”

Hotch lets a tiny smile shine through, but it’s not much. Truth is, he’s terrified to see you. But leaving you here alone – even if this is a hospital – terrifies him more.

The rest of the team says goodbye to head back to the hotel for some much-needed rest, if they can sleep at all. They know they’ll wake every couple hours to worry about you before sleep consumes them once more.

In the meantime, Hotch will be here to look after you for all of them. You’re like a little sister to the rest of them, even though Morgan is the only one to have voiced that. You’re loved here. Loved more than you’ll ever be able to comprehend.

You’re loved by Aaron much more than he’ll ever be able to articulate to you. But he’ll try. He’ll try to help you see.

+++

Hotch is finally walking to your room in the ICU after another half hour of waiting. The nurse said they had to get everything settled in your room before he could come back, which only made Hotch’s worry spike even more.

But eventually, he’s in your room with you. A pillow and blanket is in the chair by the window, but he’s not paying attention to it.

You. You’re asleep, of course, and probably will be for a few more hours. The nurse said you had already woken up once, but because of the pain medicine and the overall stress your body has been under in the past few hours, you fell back to sleep almost instantly.

Tears well in his eyes at the sight of you, laid up in the hospital bed, IVs and wires all over you. The beeping of the heart monitor is the only real sign to him that you’re even alive. Your chest is rising and falling, but it’s barely visible underneath the gown and blankets and wires.

You have one regular IV placed on the top of your left hand. Some other line is in your upper arm, and another in your wrist. He has no idea what they’re all for, he just knows he hates seeing you connected to so much.

Aaron wipes at his eyes angrily. Does he have a right to be this upset when he’s the one who sent you in there?

He turns and sets the pillow and blankets in the other chair, knowing he won’t sleep tonight even if he wanted to. Instead, he pulls the chair closer to your bed, where he can place his hand next to yours.

And, if you happen to wake up, you can reach for him if you need to.

+++

Three hours pass and you still haven’t woken up. Aaron knows. He’s been watching you the entire time.

The nurses have come to check on you a few times, assuring Aaron that it’s normal for you to be sleeping like this. But he just nods silently.

He wants you to wake up. Just for a minute. He needs you to just open your eyes and look at him, just once. That’s all he needs.

But it’s wishful thinking as the sky begins to lighten, showing the first signs of dawn.

Aaron links his pinky with yours, afraid to do much else and risk messing up your IV. Holding pinky fingers is enough right now. Or at least, it’ll have to be.

“I’m sorry,” he says out loud, to you, or really to no one at all, because he’s not even sure you can hear him. “I’m just so...sorry, Y/N.”

Stupid tears gather in his eyes again, clogging his throat, stopping his words.

But he keeps going.

“It’s my fault,” he says. “And I know you’ll try to convince me that it’s not, but Y/N, it is and I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I let this happen to you.”

He leans his head into the palm of his free hand, tightening his pinky finger’s grip on yours.

“I love you,” he blurts it out, tears warming his palm as they cascade down his cheeks. “I love you and I need you to wake up because I need you to hear it. I love you. I don’t think there’s ever been a day that I’ve known you that I haven’t loved you.”

He sniffles, loud and body-rattling, glad he’s alone in this room with you because he’d never let anyone else see him like this. No one but you.

“I tried to get it out before, but you were already gone, and I— You need to wake up. I need you to wake up. Please.”

Aaron keeps his eyes closed and head down for a few minutes longer. He doesn’t even see that you’ve opened your eyes.

Until your pinky finger gently squeezes his.

He lifts his head quickly, eyes wide and wild when he sees you’re looking back at him, eyes glassy with tears and exhaustion.

And just like that, just seeing your eyes open and looking right at him, the dam breaks once more. He’s a mess of tears when he leans his head down onto the bed. You lift your hand and thread your fingers through his hair, closing your eyes as more tears slip down your cheeks.

You scratch a soothing pattern on the base of his skull, moving your other hand over your body to hold onto his arm. He senses the movement and lifts his head, grabbing your hand and pressing it to his lips.

He’s not sure how long he stays there, all he knows is his back aches when he straightens up again, and you’ve fallen back asleep.

Next chapter

[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.” 

[spencerreidsconverse]

Connection

summary: When Spencer and Reader meet, they connect almost instantly. When she is kidnapped later that night it's up to Spencer and his team to find her.

word count: 3.9k

warnings: criminal minds style violence, swearing, brief mentions of parental issues.

Pairing: Spencer Reid/Female Reader

A/N: I got hit with a massive block halfway through this so it took forever to finish. I hope you all enjoy it!!

The lights were dim when you finally managed to pry open your eyes. You felt a splitting ache in the back of your head and your hands were tied tight behind the back of the chair you were restrained to. A feeling of panic rose through your chest as you pulled at the restraints, ripping  the skin of your wrists as you struggled. You gave up after a few minutes when you heard movement from above you. It was then you began to truly examine your surroundings. You were in a basement of some sort you decided. It smelled of mildew and the only light was from the small hopper window to your left.  Too high for you to get out of, even if you used the chair you realized with a grimace. Still, it would help you keep track of time. It was pitch black out save for the streetlamp a few feet away. You shuddered at the thought of being here for days or weeks.

You tried to think back on your day, and how you ended up here. As far as you knew, nothing unusual happened that morning. You remembered the two FBI agents, a small blonde woman and a tall lanky man with light brown curls and a beautiful face. who stopped by your cafe to ask you if you had seen a man they had been looking for. They told you he had been targeting women business owners around town. You looked at the few images they had, most of which were blurry enough you had trouble making out his features. Still, his face didn’t ring any bells. You apologized for not being able to help and the blonde agent whose name you couldn’t quite recall (Jergen maybe?)  encouraged you to be safe before they left. The rest of your day continued as normal, until that evening. Your employees had left for the night and you were finishing up your inventory when you heard a knock on the glass.

You turned around to see the tall agent from earlier waiting outside. You rushed to let him in and he gave you a sheepish look. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were closed. I’m desperate for some coffee other than the burnt pot at the station. Is there any chance you have some left?”. I nodded and stepped aside to let him in relocking the door behind him. “Yeah, come on in. Is there anything in particular you’d like? I can make you something with espresso if you’d prefer” “Oh no, I don’t want to inconvenience you any further” Your smile grew at his politeness “It’s no trouble! I still have the machine open since I’ll be here for a while.” he nodded at that and copied your expression. “Alright, can I have a double shot latte with extra chocolate and vanilla syrup?” You shook your head and let out a small giggle. “Do you actually like coffee? Or are you just desperate for energy?” He laughed at your question “You caught me. I like a little coffee with my sugar. I usually just drown the police station coffee with stevia but I need something good.” You nodded along as you steamed the milk for his latte.

He had a troubled look on his face. He seemed far away like his brain was disconnected from his body. “I know we just met but are you okay? You seem kinda zoned out.” He locked eyes with you and it was silent for a moment before he answered. “Yeah… I just feel kinda burnt out I guess.” You sat the mug down in front of him, along with a large double chocolate muffin. He eyed you, but before he could argue about it you spoke “You seem like you need it. I really don’t mind.” He quietly thanked you before sipping the drink. He let out a soft sigh and he looked genuinely content for a few moments. He looked at you again and you suddenly felt like you were being examined. “Sorry”, he said noticing your discomfort, “You’re just interesting to me.” “Interesting how?” You felt your cheeks heat up. His gaze still didn’t drop but a soft smile met his eyes. “You’re kind but still stubborn. When we were here earlier you were insistent on answering our questions in your office only. When we told you that the man was going after women business owners you were genuinely concerned, but now you’re here alone at almost 11 at night. You let me in immediately when I showed up, but locked the door and reset your security alarm behind me. You’re worried about your safety but still here, alone.”. You pursed your lips at his analysis before letting out a long breath. “Yeah, I guess I care about my business more than my own life.” You laughed awkwardly at your failed attempt to lighten the mood. He continued to look into your eyes and you were hit with a deeply intimate feeling. It felt like he was staring into your soul and instead of running away, he was running towards it. You internally scoffed at your emotions. This strange man comes into your coffee shop and you start to fall for him and instead of changing the subject, you told him the truth.

“I didn’t want my employees to overhear us. I don’t want them to worry about anything, most of them are college kids with enough on their plate as it is. Plus it’d give them another reason to be on my case about staying here so late.” You did genuinely laugh at that. “We’re like a family here. Half of them call me mama. More than once I’ve opened my door to them and helped them get back on their feet.” He smiled with me at that. “I’m usually here this late. I suppose you could consider me a workaholic but I think any good business owner has to be. This cafe is my first baby. I’ve put blood, sweat, and tears into it. To be honest, it’s probably more secure here than it is at my apartment.” He looked at you with what you thought was admiration. Maybe it was concern. You talked for a while longer about your lives. He was from Vegas but lives in DC now. You told him you had moved to DC on a whim. You needed a new start and DC held a lot of promise in the form of an abandoned building with a low down payment. You talked about his work as an agent and his love of literature.

You asked about his parents and he grew quiet. He asked about yours and for the first time in what felt like hours, you dropped my head and avoided his eyes. He sipped at his coffee for a minute while you sat in silence until a shrill ringing made you jump and he reached into his pocket, “Hello? Yeah, Emily... Okay. Okay, I will. Yeah.” He hung up his phone and returned it to his pocket before catching your eyes. “I have to go but I really appreciate you letting me in. Thanks for the coffee.” He stood,  made his way to the door quickly unlocking it and letting himself out, leaving you to wonder what he meant by letting him in. You packed up after that and a few minutes later you started the quick walk to your apartment.

You tried to remember past that. You never made it home. You cursed yourself for deciding to not waste the money on the cab. The sky looked like it was starting to lighten. Again, the noise started from upstairs and you heard a door swing open. A man came down a set of steps and flicked a light switch. You shut your eyes and slowly reopened them as they began to adjust. You tried to recognize the man in front of you but still came up blank. He matched the guy in the pictures but other than that you couldn’t place him. “It’s nice to see you Y/N. I’m glad you’re doing well.” His voice carried a condescending tone, and it mde your stomach lurch. “How do you know my name?” You demanded. You refused to show fear to this poor excuse of a man. “What, you don’t remember me? I wish I could say I was surprised. You never did care though so I suppose I knew that was coming.” You strained your brain to try and remember this kid. And a kid he was, he didn’t look any older than 20.

“What’s your name?” you tried again with a softer tone. “Jacob. Jacob Knighter.” He watched your face for any sign of recognition and when he didn’t see it, he rolled his eyes. “Of course you have no idea who I am. I’ve been leaving you clues and everything. I tried to tell you I was coming and you completely ignored it.” “Wait, you… killed all these women because of me?” “Oh don’t flatter yourself. It wasn’t just to warn you. I needed the practice. This had to be perfect and there was only one way to better my skills.” His words made your stomach turn and you could feel the bile rise in the back of your throat. You choked it down and stared back at him. “Jacob, I don’t know what I did to hurt you but I’m sure we can talk about this. Let me make this right, you don’t have to do this.” He scoffed before stepping towards you, getting close enough the tilt the chair back. You wrinkled your nose as you smelled the alcohol on his breath. He was so close you could almost taste it yourself.

“You don’t have to do this” he mocked you in a high-pitched, whiny voice. “You know nothing about what I’ve had to do. This is your fault. You could have helped me and you chose not to.” He wrapped his hand around your throat and you felt the heat rise to your face. You jerked against him trying helplessly to get away before he finally let go. You let out several sputtering coughs, trying desperately to catch your breath. He laughed at you and your brain swam with rage as fought against your restraints, ignoring the sting of your skin. “Let me go you piece of shit! I didn’t do anything to you! I don’t know you!” His face quickly turned dark and you felt your adrenaline fade and panic begin to set in. You were in real danger here and no one knew where you were. “You’re going to regret this Y/N. You’re going to wish you had helped me when you could have. Now it’s too late and you have to suffer the consequences.” He turned and shut the light back off before storming up the steps and slamming the door. This time you heard the click as three separate bolts were locked into place.

Even with the light off, the room was brighter than it had been. The sky had turned a light grey and soon the sun would rise. You should be opening the shop right now. In twenty minutes or so your morning shift employees would arrive to a locked door and hopefully be reaching out to find out where you went. All you could do now is wait. Your head was still pounding and even though you had just woken up a few hours prior, the sudden lack of adrenaline left you unable to fight the urge to close your eyes, and in a few seconds, you were out cold.

“Spencer, would you please relax? We will find her.” Emily was doing her best to comfort him but spencer continued to pace the room, trying to make sense of it all. “Emily I hadn’t even been gone 15 minutes. In the fifteen minutes between me leaving and her leaving she was kidnapped and now we have no idea how to help her. We don’t know where she is or how to find her.” Spencer had told the team about the late-night conversation you’d had after he’d come in from a break to find Penelope reciting information about the latest missing person. He told Emily about the connection he felt and now he was watching it all fall apart in front of him. Emily tried to calm him down enough to be able to pick his brain but with every breath, he just kept ranting. “She’s such a kind person too, her employees care about her. She said she’s even housed a few of them from time to time. She talks about them like we talk about each other. They’re family!”

Emily froze. “She’s housed them? Is that a well-known fact?” Spencer stared at her for a few seconds before shrugging. “Probably. She didn’t say it like she was revealing anything. Why does that matter? The unsub’s not taking them to their own houses.” Emily shook her head, shocked that spencer was unable to connect the dots. “No, but we did say we thought the unsub was targeting women for reasons other than sexism. What if they’re surrogates? The criminal sophistication matches the average age of Y/N’s employees. Maybe she turned down an applicant who was in a rough spot and now he’s seeking revenge.” Spencer’s eyes widened as he followed Emily’s conclusion and they both rushed to Garcia. “Penelope” Emily called “Can you pull up recent applications for Y/N’s business? We think the unsub might have been rejected and now he’s going after her.” Penelope nodded and began typing, her fingers flying too fast on the keyboard for even Spencer to keep up with. “Here we go, the recent applicants for Cherry Juice, which is an odd name for a coffee shop if you ask me.” “Actually, it makes sense given that the fruit of a coffee tree is known as a cherry. Each cherry contains two coffee beans or a peaberry.” Emily ignored Spencer’s facts and reclaimed Penelope’s attention. “Penelope, can you run background checks on all of the male applicants? See if any of them had filed for unemployment or applied for housing in low-income areas.” “You got it!”

Spencer wandered off towards the break room to pour himself another cup of bitter coffee, feeling pain rip through his chest as he stared down at the dark liquid. He was completely off-put by the intensity of the feelings he had for you. He had just met you! Why was he so concerned for your wellbeing? Emily had told him that it was from being the last one to see you, but he knew it was deeper than that. Had he really managed to fall for someone in two hours? He ran out of time to ponder the idea any further because JJ stuck her head in the room. “Spence, we got the guy. You coming?” He turned towards her and nodded once, rushing out of the room, the mug of coffee abandoned on the counter.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed when you awoke to a man yelling upstairs. A few seconds after you opened your eyes, the door swung open and Jacob rushed down. “Shut up. Don’t say a fucking word, you hear me? I’ll fucking kill you.” You widened your eyes and nodded in agreement. You were confused but complied. It wasn’t until you heard the front door bust open that you realized what was happening. Someone had found you. “Y/N?” You heard spencer shout your name. You opened your mouth to scream when you felt Jacob close his hand over your mouth and nose. You panicked and fought against him struggling for air. Your vision began to go fuzzy around the edges. You thought you heard the door open but before you could tell the world went dark.

When you woke up, you were on the floor in a different room of the house and an EMT was wrapping your wrists while another was checking your vitals. “Spencer..” You tried to twist your head but the EMT stopped you. “Ma’am we have to finish checking you over.” You were annoyed but allowed him to finish his job. The sooner they were done the sooner you could attempt to find him. After your wrists were bandaged and they were sure you hadn’t suffered from any respiratory damage they helped you slowly to your feet and told you that if you had any problems to visit the emergency room. You agreed and thanked the two men before making your way out the front door. You tried to move faster but your legs felt like jelly after being tied up for so long. When you made your way to the front yard you saw two black SUVs that screamed government official. You scanned the small crowd of agents and officers who stood in between the vehicles before your eyes found the back of his head.

You began your half-limp walk over when a woman with a dark bob cut and bangs nudged Spencer’s side. He turned around and a look of euphoria washed over his face when he saw you. He ran over to you, saving your legs from the strain of the uneven ground. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his chest. Even though you felt like you were hugging a brick because of his vest, you tightened your own grip around him. He smelled like stale coffee and sweat but to you, it was the smell of relief. You finally felt safe, you knew nothing could hurt you while you were in his arms. After several seconds, he loosened his grip on you just enough for you to pull your head back to meet his gaze. “I’m so sorry Y/N. I should have made sure you had gotten home safe.” “Spencer, you have no reason to apologize. You were just doing your job, and you saved me.” “Well, actually that was my team. I was too worried to be much of a help.” he admitted sheepishly, his cheeks turning a dusty pink. “Spencer, without you talking to me you wouldn’t have known anything about me except for my legal forms. You knew who I am.”

Spencer’s eyes lit up but before he could say anything else, a man from the group cleared his throat causing Spencer to look back to them. “Um Y/N would you like to meet my team?” You were startled by the question. However, you knew they were all close and if you had any hope of seeing Spencer again, his team might be a good way to start. “Yeah, sure. I’d love to.” He half supported your walk as you made your way down the driveway. Your legs felt like jelly and you couldn’t decide whether it was from being tied down or if it was nerves. You reached the group of agents and you were a little taken aback. Was it a requirement of the FBI to be dropdead gorgeous? You barely had time to process it when the dark-haired woman reached her hand out and you took it. “Hi Y/N. I’m Emily Prentiss. This is JJ, Luke, Matt, Tara, and Dave.” You smiled and waved politely as she introduced each of the team’s members. “And of course you’ve already met our resident genius.” You looked up to the man beside you who was once again blushing and scratching the back of his neck. “It’s nice to meet you all. I’m incredibly thankful that you were here. I mean obviously, you just saved my life..” you trailed off and shook your head a few times. You felt insanely flustered trying to thank them. “It’s our job Y/N, you really don’t need to thank us. Are you feeling okay?” The blond woman, JJ you now knew her as reassured you. Her nurturing tone was almost enough to reduce you to tears but you choked it down. “Thanks to you all, I am.” They all smiled, and Emily told Spencer they were going to wrap up back at the station.

“Y/N would you like a ride home?” I was shocked but grateful and accepted Emily’s offer. I told her the street address and a few minutes later we had arrived at my building. I thanked them again and climbed out of the SUV. I made my way towards the entrance when I noticed Spencer climbing out of the vehicle. “Spencer, shouldn’t you be helping them finish up the case?” “They’ll be alright without me, I wanted to make sure you got settled in alright.” You blushed and nodded, buzzing into the building and leading him to the elevators. “Are you sure you don’t need to go? I’ll be okay.” Spencer shook his head. “No, really it’s okay. I want to make sure you’re okay.” You were touched by the sentiment and tried not to feel guilty about pulling him away from his work. You reached into your purse that he had returned to you and dug for your keys. Once you got the door open, you led him into the living room where you set your bag down and pulled your sneakers off.

You watched Spencer as he slowly moved throughout your space, committing everything you owned to memory. After several minutes of watching him, you broke the comfortable silence with a yawn. He immediately turned to you as if he was just reminded of your presence. “You need to rest Y/N. You’ve been through a lot.” “I don’t want to sleep.” “Why not?” You pondered the question for a second before you decided to tell him the truth. “I don’t want to wake up and have this be a dream…” You trailed off sadly, imagining going the rest of your life without him. You had only known him for a few hours but it felt like a lifetime. “Y/N… I’d like to see you again if that’s alright - I mean if you’d like that.” He rubbed the back of his neck and looked at you. You nodded enthusiastically. “I’d love to see you again Spence!” You scrambled around before you found your notepad and scribbled your phone number down on the top page, adding a heart at the end. You walked over to where he was stood studying the photos hanging on your wall next to the door.

“Here you go, call me sometime when you’re free okay?” He smiled and folded it before placing it safely in his pocket. He stared into your eyes, brushing a strand of your hair back behind your ear. “Y/N… You’re really beautiful, you know that?” Your cheeks tinged with pink and you tried to look away but his hand held you still, lingering on your cheek. “Aphrodite would be so jealous she’d smite you where you stood.” You giggled and before he could overthink, he touched his lips to yours. You wrapped your hands around his neck, pulling him closer. After a few minutes, he pulled away and smiled at you. “I have to go now, unfortunately. The team will hate me if I write off a cab on FBI money. I’ll call you okay? Soon. Get some rest, you need it.” You nodded and leaned up to brush your lips against his once more. “I will. I’ll see you soon Spence.” He kissed your cheek as he opened the door behind him. “Sweet dreams Carissima. I’ll see you soon.” He shut the door behind him and you locked it before making your way to bed. You stripped off your clothes and left them in a pile on the floor. You climbed in between your sheets and closed your eyes, quickly drifting off and into dreams filled with Spencer.

[floralseokjin]

final sleigh drabble #1

❛ a few hours later...❜

original oneshot here // drabble index here 

kim seokjin x reader  smut, comedy  8,156 words (🥴)

Rushing to the door as you heard the low knock against the wood, you took a few deep breaths before yanking it open, knowing what was about to happen once Seokjin stepped inside. 

He smiled as you came into view, a tiny one that seemed to round his cheeks something crazy. Something inside you went a little gooey. He was dressed in a thin black sweater that hugged his body, a basic silver chain hanging around the neckline. You were half expecting him to turn up in another one of his Christmas jumpers — the one he had been wearing earlier was still embedded inside your brain, but mainly because of what you’d been doing... Seven hours ago you’d thrown caution to the wind and participated in something that could 1000% get you fired. Although... It had been your idea, so. 

“Hey,” you said with a smile, feeling momentarily a little awkward. This was no innocent visit after all. He was here to have sex with you. Please, he’d begged. Let me fuck you. The memory of his words were enough to tinge your cheeks a darker shade. 

“Hey,” he greeted, taking the first step inside. For a brief second his face appeared not so far from yours and you wondered if he was about to kiss you. You had kissed with abandon earlier on in the day after all. But instead, his lips flickered up into a smirk. He was amused as he spoke. “Pizza guy just pulled up too.” 

“Oh.” It took a moment for your brain to process what he was telling you. “Let me grab my purse.” 

You toddled off, into your living room and through to the kitchen, leaving him by the open door. Jerk, you thought, realising he’d been messing with you, or at least, that’s what you thought. Who knew, and you weren’t about to ask him. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. 

When you got back to your entryway Seokjin had his wallet out in front of the pizza delivery guy, fishing for bills. “What are you doing?” You demanded. 

Seokjin shrugged. “I’ll pay, it’s no big deal.” 

“No way.” You thrust inside your purse, eager to beat him. 

“Y/N.” It sounded as if he was half warning you, voice low. 

“It was my idea, I’m paying.” 

Inviting him over just for sex seemed a little... crude, for lack of a better word, so suggesting pizza helped soften the intent – in your eyes. 

Seokjin looked at you incredulously and when he realised you weren’t going to give in, he sighed loudly. “Let’s go dutch then, I am eating half after all.” 

“Fine.” You weren’t happy about it, but fine. 

You both handed your cash to the delivery guy who had watched the whole exchange wordlessly. You took the boxes from him and waited as he counted out your change. 

“Here,” he said, reaching his hand out to pass it to Seokjin, who shook his head. 

“She can have it.” 

The guy changed direction, holding his arm out as he waited for you to take it (hands full, mind you...). 

“No, you can have it,” you told Seokjin. 

He turned his head, dismissing you. “I don’t want it.” 

You choked out a noise of frustration. However “gooey” you’d been feeling five minutes ago had well and truly disappeared now. Nothing had changed, despite what had happened earlier, he was still an annoying ass when he wanted to be. 

“Can someone just take it?” The delivery guy exclaimed, causing you to startle. “I have five other pizzas getting cold.” 

“Fine,” you hissed, displeased by his attitude. Yes, okay, you were wasting his time but no need to be so rude about it. “Put it on the box.” You glanced at Seokjin, seeing him try to hold back his laughter. That just annoyed you more. 

“Wash your hands,” you ordered him as soon as the mannerless delivery guy left. 

He slipped his sneakers off and followed you into the kitchen, stopping halfway as you dropped the pizza boxes onto your coffee table. He washed his hands in silence, absentmindedly looking around the room, as if he was getting familiar with the place again, and then it dawned on you; he’d been here before. Last weekend, after your drunken make out session that had resulted in him packing you off to bed with a glass of water... Your memories were still hazy, but it was something. 

As you washed your hands too, you noticed Seokjin watching down at you with a smile that had you feeling a little uneasy. “What?” 

Maybe this was a bad idea. 

“Nothing,” he shrugged, but his eyes twinkled more than usual, the last syllable bubbling in his throat as he held back another laugh. 

You opened your mouth, ready to tell him something. You didn’t know what, maybe to shut up? But then he shifted, moving in one swift motion to lean in and kiss you. 

You made a small shocked noise as he pressed his lips against yours, eyes wide open even though his were fluttered closed, but soon enough you relaxed, settling into his touch as he cupped your hips, yours reaching to grip under his elbows. 

He pulled back suddenly, grinning. “This is the best. All I have to do is kiss you and you shut up.” 

Huh? “You can’t weaponise kissing, Seokjin,” you scowled. 

“Wanna bet?” And he was on you once more, you, miraculously quiet again. His mouth was a little more eager now, presses harder as your lips glided together, and your mind was quickly becoming cloudy. Kissing Seokjin was a little addictive. You couldn’t hate it even if you tried. 

“Mhm.” He groaned a little against you, sending your lips tingling. “I swear I just experienced the slowest 3 hours of my life.” 

You had to agree. From half 5 to now, you’d been practically counting down the minutes. 

“Actually,” he added as an afterthought. “I’ve wanted to kiss you ever since we had to stop.” 

You couldn’t help but smile, fingers lifting to play with the chain around his neck. Since when did he accessorise, and why was it so hot? 

“Well, you’re here now,” you said, your voice a little softer than you’d expected it to be, but whatever, Seokjin wanted to kiss you just as much as you wanted to kiss him. You’d leave it slide. 

“Come,” he jerked his head in the direction of your living room, taking your hands in his. “Pizza first, you’ll need your energy.” 

The wink he gave you was completely uncalled for. Your legs instantly felt a little shaky.

.

.

You spent maybe an hour eating and chatting a little. It was a little strange to be having a proper conversation with Seokjin, in light of what you both had been this past six months, but when you thought about it, you’d shared numerous conversations ever since you’d began the Christmas party planning, so it wasn’t too bizarre. Actually, it was nice. You felt less nervous about the obvious direction tonight would soon go. 

You scrolled Netflix, choosing Brooklyn Nine-Nine as background noise as you were in the middle of binging the series and it was something light and funny to fill the sometimes small silences that fell between you. Only, Seokjin informed you he’d already watched all available seasons three times and that meant he could recite any given episode on cue. It was slightly endearing watching him go, if not mildly annoying too, but whatever, he was enjoying himself. 

You didn’t know who started kissing who soon enough, it might very well have been you. One minute you were sneaking looks his way, checking out his biceps in that sinful sweater and the next you were wrapped up against his body, tongues furiously crashing together. The line had been crossed once again, only this time things were leading somewhere even more exciting. 

You were ready for this. You’d showered before he’d arrived, made sure there were no stray hairs poking out of random places on your body – because this afternoon had taken you by surprise, but now you were prepared. You had your sexiest lingerie on, a black lace two piece that you hadn’t had a chance to wear yet. It seemed to show more skin than cover it, but that’s exactly what you wanted. You’d even painted your god damn toenails. You wanted to knock his proverbial socks off. 

Your phone was on silent, no room for interruptions no matter whose house was on fire. Ana had already been informed of your dick appointment, and while her first instinct had been to gloat, you’d stopped her right in her tracks. You didn’t want to hear it and you didn’t want to hear from her tonight, because she often liked to call you when she was bored – very often. 

Tonight you were going to get laid and nothing was going to get in your way. It had been a long six months, and yes, it was sex with Seokjin, but honestly, that just made it better. You thought back to this afternoon, how good it had felt to be touched by him and how hard he’d made you cum. You didn’t want to jinx things, but you had very high hopes for tonight... 

“This afternoon feels like a dream,” he confessed against your mouth, taking the moment to pull you onto his lap, his hands snaking their way down to ass to give it a firm squeeze, rolling you into his crotch. 

You let out a throaty groan, mouth open, giving him perfect access to lick into it, stealing your tongue to suck the muscle gently. You clutched tightly to the nape of his neck, catching some of the small hairs and he moaned. You were under the impression Seokjin liked having his hair tugged... 

“It definitely happened,” you grinned as he pulled away, and you took the opportunity to nibble on his plump bottom lip. 

“I don’t know, you’re going to have to remind me...” He gave a throaty chuckle, nudging his hips and you felt the very obvious bulge in his jeans. 

“What do you think I’m doing right now?” You laughed at a sudden memory, placing your hands on Seokjin’s chest to ease up. “No one had a clue.” 

He held your wrists, keeping you to him as he laughed along. “Not even Jungkook. He was so oblivious.” 

“Even with the lame excuse with the cake.” 

“Hey,” he whined, “in my defence, I panicked.” 

Humming, you leaned in to press against his lips, pulling back before he could part them. “Yeah, we probably should’ve thought of a reason beforehand.” Terrible lack of judgement on your part. 

“Do you think?” Seokjin asked rhetorically, impatient as he lunged to kiss you, clasping your arms tight to your side to keep you still until they strayed, caressing your sides, ghosting the sides of your breasts. Your skin felt electric, despite the layers that blocked his touch. 

You squealed as he gripped your hips, finding your back flush with the sofa cushions in an instant. Seokjin liked to throw his strength around a lot too it seemed. Not that you were complaining, it was hot, and you spread your legs, letting him nestle between them as his mouth found yours again. You clutched at his shoulders, gasping into the kiss from the sheer want you were feeling. 

“Been waiting so long to get my hands on this body,” he grunted against you; leaving you wondering if he meant all day, or longer? The way he was tugging at your mouth with his made you want to believe it was the latter... Ridiculous, but maybe... 

Hands riding up your shirt as you moaned in agreement, he made goosebumps appear against your stomach, his fingers glided along the hot skin, and then, suddenly, they were on the buttons of your jeans, fiddling in haste. 

Anything more was wasting time, and your stomach leaped with anticipation, knowing you didn’t need to wait much longer. Soon he’d be fucking you. You were beside yourself.

An exasperated sigh stole your attention and you felt Seokjin move, kneeling between your legs, sofa cushions dipping with the weight as he yanked at the waistband of your jeans, a groan leaving him now. 

“Why do you insist on wearing sex proof clothing?” 

You used your elbows to sit up a little, narrowing your eyes at his dramatics. “They’re jeans, Seokjin. Hardly difficult to take off.” Yes, admittedly there were a few more buttons than usual but they were simple to undo. You reached down, swatting his hands out the way to unfasten them. “There. See.” 

You watched his bottom lip stick out slightly, his voice small and annoyed as he spoke. “I wanted to do that.” 

“Shut up,” you scoffed lightly, grabbing his arms to tug him back to you. You went to kiss him but he was moving you again, hooking his hands around you waist to prop you up. 

His mouth found the crook of your neck, half pinning you to the sofa as his right hand slipped into your jeans, and you moaned when the pads of his fingers found your clit above your underwear, rubbing you firmly a few times before he slid down to your opening, feeling and hearing how wet you’d already become. It had soaked through your panties no issue at all.   

Seokjin let out a tight grunt as he felt it, lifting his hand to bypass the lace and feel you for real. It was pretty restricted down there, your jeans still snug around your hips but he made it work, rubbing your whole mound, spreading your arousal. 

“I can’t believe I’m going to fuck you...” He murmured, although his voice wasn’t particularly soft, more thick with lust. He was sucking on your earlobe, working out you liked that very much by now and you struggled to gain your bearings. “Be inside you...” 

“Mhmm,” you moaned in agreement, the noise breaking in half when you felt him insert a finger inside of you. 

Again, room was tight and even though he couldn’t finger you like he wanted he still made it feel amazing – or probably you were just too far gone now. Everything he was doing was driving you wild. You dragged your hands up and down his torso, clinging onto any muscle you came across. 

“I swear you haven’t felt nothing yet,” he informed you, mouth tight to your jaw and your moans turned into mild tugs for breath if anything, your head falling back against the edge of the sofa. “Jiin–“ 

He paused his kisses, his hand following suit trapped in your underwear. “Jin?” He repeated, tilting his head back to meet your eyes, his left eyebrow ever so slightly lifting. “Why did you call me that?” 

What was he going on about? You were hot and desperate and here he was suddenly questioning you. “It’s your name, isn’t it?” 

He looked mildly concerned. “You’ve never called me that before.” 

You breathed out a confused laugh. “Am I not allowed? Everyone else calls you it.” 

His expression grew softer, sincerity pooling in his words. “You’re not everyone else though. I love it when you call me Seokjin.” 

You had to admit you were a little speechless. You knew in the past you’d never used the shortened version of his name because you refused to be friendly with him like everyone else. ‘Seokjin’ held a distance between you, or so you’d thought... In reality it had become something special between you both... 

“Fine,” you whispered, pushing your hips into his hand as you moaned lightly, catching his eyes. “Seokjiin.”

He found that funny – you both did, laughing together before you lifted a hand to play with his necklace, giving him a small smile. “Wanna go to my room now?”

You lead him by the hand all the way and he followed you eagerly, eyes hungry. You switched on the lamp by your bed, and safe inside your room he got a little distracted, his eyes darting around the unfamiliar setting, as if he was soaking it all in, but that only lasted for a little while, something, or someone, far more interesting needing his attention. His gaze found you stood at the foot of your bed. 

You followed the hand that tugged at his crotch and noticed the now incredibly visible tent inside his jeans. Your gut lurched as he strode towards you. “Come here,” he breathed, reaching for you, and just like that his lips were on yours again. Somehow you ended up in his arms again, his hands firmly cupping your ass as you clung on, moaning into his mouth as your enjoyment started to reach breaking point. 

You squealed out his name when you felt him lift his knees to the bed, dropping you down to cage you under his body. 

“I got you. Relax,” he chuckled, finding your reaction amusing as you squeezed your fingers into his biceps. A low noise emitted from his throat as he nosed at your neck, mumbling into your skin, “I love feeling you touch me.” 

Your heartbeat skyrocketed, sure he could feel your pulse against his lips and you moaned a little too loudly when you felt his teeth bite down on the flesh, continuing his descent down to your collarbones and chest before it became too much and began to tickle you. 

“You’re really finding that ticklish?” He asked curiously, lifting his head to catch a look at your face. 

You nodded, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth as you stroked down his arms, a little pleased now that you knew it drove him crazy. 

He smirked down at you, his eyes near black. It totally altered his face – his whole demeanour actually. “Do you like a little pain, Y/N?”

He had to see the mild shock on his face, but you quickly composed yourself. Where had that come from? His mouth seemed to run wild when he was turned on, if the storage room was anything to go by, and you found yourself enjoying it immensely. You hooked your hands around his neck as you sat up and he eased away, kneeling straighter. Your teeth reached to nip his bottom lip. “Depends on what kind,” you purred as he hissed at the sensation. 

He watched you lean back, never taking his eyes off you as you removed your arms from his neck to pull your shirt over your head. Immediately he stood up, his sweater gone in one swift motion as he dropped it at his feet. You soaked in the view, his torso toned, chest firm. The silver chain hung around his neck, patches of skin flush, revealing his evident arousal. 

He tilted his head and smirked. “Like what you see?”

You rolled your eyes. “Cocky much?” But yes, yes you did. 

He snorted, laughing pretty loudly as he knelt back on the mattress. “I’m just messing around.” 

You couldn’t help but touch him, your hands travelling up his body and across his chest as he crawled over you. He grunted as your lips met and you kissed one another hungrily, more eager now than ever. His hands grazed the cups of your bra and no more than a few moments later he was on one breast, licking and sucking at your nipple, quickly soaking the lace. You moaned loudly, the sensation sending you partially shaky until you had to hold the back of his head, rooting yourself in fear of falling backwards. 

His left hand travelled around your back, fingers fumbling with the strap of your bra. “Can I?” He asked, and you strained out a yes. 

He broke away from your nipple as he used his other hand to help hook you free. The straps fell lose against your arms and he tugged at the middle of your bra to remove it entirely. His eyes ate you up before cupping the soft flesh in his palms, jaw slack as he flicked his eyes up to yours. 

“You have the prettiest tits.” 

Slightly abashed by his words but turned on by the way his thumbs rubbed circles against your sensitive nipples, you found yourself chuckling. “That’s good to know.” 

“No, really,” he half-awed, reaching to kiss you again. “You’re just... perfect.” 

He sounded so sincere it shocked you, made you unsure what to respond. Not that you could anyway, his tongue down your throat again, his body pressed against yours as your urge for him continued to grow. 

You were thankful when you felt his hands tug at the waistband of your jeans. “I need to get you fucking naked,” he muttered against your shoulder. You were unable to keep track of his mouth, he was kissing every inch of bare skin he found. 

You lifted your ass off the bed, helping him shimmy the fabric down and over your ass before they became jammed at your thighs. Okay, maybe skinny jeans had been a bad idea... He got them down to your knees with quite a struggle, leaning back to yank them off the rest of the way. He nearly fell backwards with the force, irritated eyes finding yours. “I swear to God, you don’t want me to fuck you.”

You tried your best not to laugh, he was putting way too much effort into a simple(ish) task, if he carried on like this you’d have no other option than to think he was incapable at stripping women. Instead, now that you were finally free of your jeans, you spread your thighs, revealing your barely there panties. 

“Really?” You cocked an eyebrow. You were now more aroused than ever, the delicate fabric stuck damp to your sex, and Seokjin’s eyes immediately wondered to the sight you’d put on display, his eyes glazing over slightly, darkening with lust. 

He stood from the bed suddenly, unzipping his own jeans to remove them too, throwing them to the side with haste. You could easily see the curve of his impressive erection in those tight black boxer shorts and as he crawled back to you, you couldn’t help but cup him, tracing your fingers across the thick length before rubbing him, feeling him push into your touch and groan as his lips pressed into yours. 

You pulsed when you felt his hand cup your mound, knowing he could feel the heat that radiated from it instantly. He pinched at the sticky fabric, pulling it back and snapping it against you. Annoyingly, he didn’t seem to take much interest in the underwear as you’d hoped, more concerned about what was underneath, so near enough immediately, he had them gone – successfully this time. His gaze travelled to your nakedness, soaking in the view before he traced the outline of your folds with his fingertips. “You’re literally fucking naked in front of me,” he awed, never once taking his eyes off you. 

He had to feel you pulsing beneath him, eager for something more, but he didn’t give you it. “I didn’t think being this wet was possible,” he whispered smugly, eyes flicking over to your face. 

You grumbled, although probably more frustrated he was teasing you than by his words. “Stop trying to inflate your ego.” 

He chuckled, shifting closer, and then suddenly there was a finger inside you. You sucked in a breath, no time to get accustomed to the sensation as he began fingering you, curling and pressing the long digit against your velvety walls. “Fuck. Seokjin!” 

He grinned wolfishly down at you, strands of hair falling into his eyes, but you could still see them twinkling with mirth. “Found another way to shut you up.” 

You would’ve scowled if your mouth wasn’t too busy moaning. He was not going to weaponise fingering too... 

His actions sped up as he slipped a second digit into you, straightening them as he fucked you with them, sending you splayed out on the mattress as he knelt between your legs. You should’ve maybe felt self-conscious by now, but the pleasure coursing through your body was too distracting. Plus, the way Seokjin watched you, eyes hungrily staring at your breasts jiggling with each snap of his wrist, had you basking in the attention. 

You were shocked to find out how close to coming you had been when he abruptly pulled out of you, your body on a come down as shaky breaths wracked throughout you. His mouth was on yours immediately, kissing you messily, shallow breathing. His voice shook as he spoke. “Fuck. I can’t think straight.” 

He kneeled up, looking between your legs again as he vigorously rubbed at his dick. “Let me eat you out again.” 

He went to dive in, but you stopped him, placing your hands on his shoulders as you sat up. “Wait, you’ve already done that.” As much as you’d loved it and wouldn’t mind a repeat, what was the point in waiting? He was obviously as desperate for you as you were for him. There was no point dragging it out, anymore would just be considered teasing. 

You looked up at him with half-lidded eyes, running your hand down his chest. He was a little sweaty and you loved it. “Just fuck me. I want to feel you already.” 

He looked down at your hand, fingers now toying with the waistband of his underwear and swallowed. “Yeah... Yeah, good idea.” 

Standing on the floor, he looked around for his jeans, spotting them near the left side of your bed. You shuffled closer, reaching out to grab his elbow and stop him in his tracks. “Take those off first, I want to get a good look at your ass,” you prompted, gesturing to his underwear. 

He looked a little surprised by your request, but listened, giving you somewhat of a bemused smirk as he stripped himself of his boxers. He turned slightly, protecting the fullness of his butt as he reached down for his jeans, but you were more than satisfied with the curve of the flesh you saw. Seokjin always did have a nice looking ass in his work pants – not that you’d been staring, of course... 

“I feel like a piece of meat,” he told you, eyes narrowed as he stepped closer, foil packet between his fingers. 

“A tasty piece of meat,” you corrected, feeling excited when he sat down on the side of the bed and dropped the condom beside your bodies. You were literally a couple of minutes away from having him inside you, and you quite honestly couldn’t contain yourself.

Crawling into his lap, you hooking your arms around his neck, feeling his wrap around your waist, his cock bouncing slightly against your inner thigh. Pulling you closer he pressed his mouth into yours, his grip firm, kiss passionate.  A hand travelled down to your ass, another cupping one breast and he moaned loudly as he pulled away from your lips. “God. I love your body so much.” 

You smirked, very much appreciating the praise and as if your body couldn’t help it, you pressed your hips into him, rubbing against his thigh partially. 

“You really like to grind,” he commented, looking down between your bodies and that’s when you couldn’t take it any longer, reaching down to wrap your hand around his dick. His hips jumped at the sensation, and you couldn’t help but run your fist up and down the length, feeling the hot, ridged flesh pulse against your grasp.

Condom back between his fingers, you watched him start to tear it open, rushed slightly, his hips absentmindedly jutting up into your hand. Randomly, your eyes caught the writing on the gold square and instantly your mouth became dry. 

“What?” Seokjin asked, pausing his movements as he noticed something was wrong. Did your face give it away? 

“N-nothing,” you stuttered, tearing your gaze away from the bolded King Size to look down at your hand. Seokjin’s dick almost taunted you. You hadn’t really paid attention to it properly since he’d gotten naked, forgetting the shock you’d felt earlier on in the day when faced with the massive task. Your mouth had accustomed well, but your vagina?! You were getting reservations... 

“You really do have a fucking massive dick.” 

Seokjin chuckled, angling his head low to kiss your mouth. He knew you’d noticed the text on the condom packet now. “You’ll make him go shy with all these compliments.” 

He lifted you in one smooth motion and you found yourself spread on your back, head on the pillow as he hovered over you, sliding the condom on. He held his cock in his hand as he dropped to his knees, tugging it a couple of time just to make sure all was secure and then he leaned in to place a kiss on your shoulder. “Can’t wait to be inside you,” he murmured, rubbing the head if his cock against your sex. You could hear the noise of the latex and you clenched unconsciously, now nervous. “Hm?” He prompted, waiting for a likeminded reply. When you didn’t give him one he lifted his head to look at you, looking a little concerned. “What is it?”

You wrapped your arms around his middle, feeling comforted by the heat of his body and the softness of his skin. It was funny, you didn’t feel embarrassed to confide in him right now, to ask for reassurance. There had been a time, even as far as quite recently, when you had not for even one second wanted to look scared, worried or dumb in front of him. Now that seemed kind of silly... 

“You will fit, right?” 

“Of course I’ll fit,” he laughed, looking instantly relieved. Had he been expecting something bad? 

“You better. I don’t want you breaking my vagina in two.” You warned, chest feeling a little lighter, enough to joke around with him. 

“You’re acting like it’s dangling above my knee or some shit.” He repositioned himself, easing his dick away from your heat as he rolled his eyes playfully. The action touched you. Even though he was teasing you, he still wanted to make sure you were comfortable... 

Ever so gently, he rubbed the inside of your thigh, his way of reassuring you while also helping you relax. Were you that tense under him? You keened into his touched, loving the way he made you feel. 

“You been fucking men with tiny cocks this whole time?” He joked, making you scoff out a small laugh. 

“No, just not that... big.” 

You expected him to make another joke, something about stroking his ego, but instead he leaned in to kiss you, his hand rubbing circles on your hip now. “I’ll go slow. Don’t be worried,” he reassured. You bucked into him instinctively when you felt his fingers at your entrance. He slid two fingers inside, moving slowly. “I stretched you out pretty good anyway.” He pressed upwards, causing you to moan. “You’ll take it.” 

His words made you tingle all over, something kind of vulgar about them that made you not so anxious now. Pulling out, he ran his fist over his length again and you felt a little sorry for him. You didn’t want to keep him waiting anymore. You didn’t want to wait anymore. 

Seokjin caught you watching him and smiled, leaning closer. “Yeah?” He asked your permission. 

You nodded, crossing your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. “Yeah.” He repositioned himself, sitting taller on his knees as he pushed the tip of his cock up against your entrance. You wanted him closer, reaching for him as you murmured, “Kiss me.” 

He listened immediately, moving over your body to meet your lips. He started to push inside, carefully, an inch or so at a time. “Fuck,” he mumbled, as your warmth continued to surround him. “You feel amazing.” 

You moaned out in agreement, the stretch nothing but pleasurable as he sunk a little further. You went to look between your bodies, curious. 

“No, don’t look down.” He stopped you, kissing your mouth over and over again, distracting you successfully. “Not yet. Wait until I’m fully inside.” 

You didn’t know why he was so adamant. Maybe he didn’t want you to potentially freak out and see him pushing that massive ass dick into you, or maybe he just really wanted your first sight to be you stuffed full of him... You moaned at the thought, feeling him push even deeper. God, you loved this feeling. 

“Seokjin–!” 

His mouth was against your neck now, kissing you softly. “Just a little bit more.” His voice was tight, strained under the increasing pleasure he was feeling, mixed with the urge to delve straight inside. 

You planted your feet to the bed, widening your legs just a tad to silently let him know you were more than ready. With one more nudge he slipped all the way in. You knew because you felt his hips press into yours, that and the moan he gave out. “Ngh. Yeah. Shit.” 

You looked down, Seokjin’s lips frozen against your shoulder. “Oh, my god,” you whispered, taking in the sight of where your bodies met. You felt incredibly full, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, it was pleasant. Incredibly pleasant. 

“Can’t believe I’m inside you,” he awed next to your ear, and it took you a moment to realise he was staring too. 

You cupped his face, sliding your hands around the back of his head to weave your fingers in his hair, grip firm. “Move,” you informed him, needing him to start fucking you immediately before you cried. 

He got to work, your hands now travelling the expanse of his back as he rocked his hips into you at a painfully steady pace, the chain on his neck swinging back and forth. His hands were either side of your head on the pillow, his breathing heavy as he cast his gaze down to your eyes. “You literally have the warmest cunt I’ve ever felt.” 

Your face heated up immediately, not expecting such an admission and instinctively you dipped your chin. You might’ve really liked it but it was still embarrassing, nonetheless. You heard him chuckle, a hand reaching to cup your cheek, making you look at him again. “What? Not used to guys talking dirty to you?”

“It’s not that.” You shook your head.  “I usually don’t like it.” It was true. Nobody had been able to pull it off well in the past, usually feeling cringey and unnatural. But with Seokjin... It made you feel some type of way. 

He smirked, although it looked a little strained due to the way he was still thrusting inside you. “That’s because they never did it properly. It’s an art form.”

He was lucky his bragging held up... 

You ran your hands down the small of his back, cupping his ass gently as you pushed down with each thrust of his hips. You couldn’t help but moan each time he bottomed out, wriggling under him. 

“It feels good, right? Nothing hurts?” He asked, nuzzling his face into the side of yours. You shook your head. “Good.” 

With your assurance, he thrust into you hard, causing you to shoot up the bed. You dug your nails into his ass with the shock. “Seokjin—!” 

He repeated, slowly pulling out until just the tip of his cock was inside and then slamming back in. “Told you I’ll fit.” He murmured, sliding out again, looking down your body as it shook. “This pussy couldn’t wait for me to fuck it.” 

You cried out as he hit deep, even more pleasurable because of his shameless mouth. “Again!” You begged, hands raking up his back now as you attempted to roll your hips into his, but it was no use, he had you pinned down, held prisoner by his dick. 

“Patience, baby,” he purred against your ear. “It’s not a race.” 

Your breath shook. There it was, that word again. When he was inside you like this, it didn’t sound half as bad. 

Despite his comment, he gradually started to speed up, straightening his back to fuck you harder, his hands gripping your thighs to keep you planted, although you couldn’t help but grind your hips into him, chasing more and more. When his fingers brushed over your clit, you fluttered your eyes closed, brows furrowed. 

“Don’t stop,” you breathed, soft moans leaving your mouth involuntary, enjoying the sensation of him circling your clit. 

“Yeah? Gonna cum?” He asked – more like goaded. Your skin prickled, his tone setting you alight. “Gonna cum all over my dick?” 

You let out a strangled cry, squeezing around him, your thighs spreading further, desperate to feel him deeper. Grunting, he leaned over your body, snapping his hips harder, his motions against your clit firmer, the pads of all four fingers rubbing tight circles. 

“You feel so fucking good.” He groaned. “Tell me how much you love it. Don’t be shy.” 

Once again you felt your cheeks heat up, reluctant despite how good he was making you feel. 

“Y/N.” He commanded gently, and you slowly found his gaze, jaw slack. “Let me know how you’re feeling. How much you love me fucking you.” 

You wanted to. You really wanted to. It was only fair given how much he was praising you too. There was nothing wrong with him wanting you to stroke his ego right now, despite how unaccustomed you were to dirty talking. 

“I love it so much,” you moaned. “Please don’t stop. You’re going to make me cum.” 

Not that you could label that as dirty talk... You sounded a little awkward, cringing at yourself, but Seokjin seemed to like it, dropping lower to kiss you, grunting into your mouth. You felt encouraged enough to continue. You weaved your fingers in his hair, loving the sound of his panting. “Seokjin, please make me cum. You feel so fucking amazing. I love your dick, don’t stop fucking me.” 

His hips stuttered as he processed your words and then he growled, kickstarting them again – much harder. “That’s a dangerous thing to ask, Y/N,” he warned, breaking away from your mouth to stare down at you, expression dark. Each thrust sent your headboard into the wall. 

“You want me to keep fucking you even after you cum?” 

“Oh, god,” you moaned as he slammed into you, his fingers against your clit unrelenting. “Ye-ss! You can fuck me all night if you like.” 

“Don’t,” he whined, his face dropping into the crook of your neck before he growled again, flinging himself up. 

Still on his knees between your thighs, he lifted one of your legs up, hooking it casually over his shoulder, fingers on his left hand digging into the meat of your thigh. You spread your other leg, resting it on top of his knee, his right hand holding you flat until he found your clit again, two fingertips stroking it steadily. 

Your thighs started to shake, the rest of your body tense as your middle jerked up against his touch. He kept fucking you, stopping each time he was fully inside of you to grind against your insides. 

“Seokjin, I want to—” You couldn’t even finish your sentence, pleasure too strong. You were so tense your release seemed like it would never come.

“Just let go. Cum.” He told you, his voice tight, neck strained. “Just think of how good I’m making you feel. You’re so wet, I’m sliding everywhere.” 

You could hear yourself, squelching with each snap of his hips and circle of his fingers. Suddenly he slapped down with his hand, not especially hard, but it made your body jerk, a cry of surprise leaving you. “Seokjin, fuck.” 

He instantly went back to playing with your clit,   you pulsed red hot. “You like that, baby?” He purred, voice low, rolling his dick inside you at a deadly rhythm. “You’re such a fucking tease.” He smirked. “Knew you’d be dirty, or do I just bring out that side of you?” 

All you could do was moan, the shock of his palm against your core still zapping up your body, your hips moving with his, urging him to keep going because you were so close, teetering over the edge. Pushing his body weight into you, still gripping your leg against his chest, you sunk further into the mattress. 

“Just concentrate on how my cock feels.” He helped you along, words flying out of his mouth as you squeezed around his cock tightly. “How my fingers feel. I really want to make you cum.” He groaned loudly, determination in his tone. “Soak me.” 

“Fuck.” This was it, you could feel the build-up of your orgasm cresting. “Seokjin, I’m—!” You broke off with a moan as pleasure engulfed you. “Coming. I’m coming.” 

Your body stiffened, foot trembling above his shoulder, but Seokjin kept fucking you through the waves that wracked through you, his fingers against your clit easing up slightly, careful not to overstimulate you. Your head was spinning as you started to feel your orgasm gradually wane, warmth flowing through your veins as your limbs started to relax again. You gasped for breath, amazed by what had just happened. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d come like that... if ever. 

Seokjin’s hips slowed down, carefully dropping your leg to the bed as he eased up and crawled over you, mouth finding yours, your tongues meshing together sloppily. You wrapped your arms around his neck, legs around his waist and tugged him closer. He was still inside you, not moving, but that soon changed as you started to roll your hips into his. You still wanted him, orgasm only making you hornier, however possible that was. 

“I-I can carry on?” He asked thickly, shallowly fucking inside of you now, pace uneven. 

“Please,” you murmured against his ear. “I said don’t stop.” 

He groaned, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips before knocking into you harder, slow but calculated. He felt bigger inside of you, the result of your walls tightening, but you loved it, your fingers playing with the chain at the nape of his neck. The metal was cool, a big difference to his skin which was hot and slick with his sweat. 

“Not too hard?” He asked, grunting with each thrust. 

You pulled him to you closer, ignoring the way his pelvis rubbed against your core, still a little sensitive. “Fuck me however hard and fast you like.” Running your hands along his muscular back you felt him shiver, a tight whine escaping his lips as your words got to him. You felt pretty chuffed. 

“You feel so fucking amazing, Seokjin. You’re so good at this.” You praised, words falling from you naturally and unprompted. 

His brain didn’t seem to be functioning anymore, unable to respond to you, the feeling of his impending orgasm too distracting, but he moaned at your words, face falling to your shoulder as he just. Kept. Fucking. You. His thrusts were hard, but not as calculated as before. You could tell by the way he was breathing he was close, his grunts muffled but still audible. 

“Gonna–gonna c–”

You could hear that too, feel the way his body stiffened instantly, and he rammed deep inside you, waiting for the first spill of cum. You gripped him tight, loving the way his body shook as he came, and you welcomed each tremor as his cum filled the condom. 

“Oh, my fuck,” he gasped, the last surge the strongest, and you suppressed the giggle that wanted to escape your throat. He was pretty speechless, you guessed. “Shit. Fuck. Shit.” 

He laid on top of you for a few moments, catching his breath while muttering expletives into your skin. You liked being weighted down by his body, you couldn’t describe it, it just felt good. 

“Seokjin?” You questioned, turning your head as much you could to rouse him. His back was all clammy, the hairs against the back of his neck damp with sweat. 

He slowly lifted himself up, hands pressing into mattress. “I think my brain just blew to pieces.” Blowing air out of his mouth, he noticed his lips were wet. He brought a hand up to feel. “I fucking dribbled.” He chuckled, wiping himself clean. 

“Hot,” you teased, watching him roll off you and remove the soiled condom, tying a knot at the top. He sat up, looking around for your trashcan before spotting one near your closet. It gave you a great view of his ass when he walked over to throw it away. 

You rolled onto your side as he came back, joining you on the bed, stretching his arm behind his head as he looked over at you, a smugness to his face. “I don’t want to take all the credit but I’m pretty sure that was the best sex I’ve ever had.” 

You shrugged casually, trying your best not to smile. “Yeah, I’d rate it like an 8/10.” 

“Hey,” he exclaimed incredulously. 

“I’m messing around.” You laughed, your hand reaching to play with his necklace, your eyes skimming down his torso. “It was amazing.” 

“Yeah?” He smirked, stealing a small kiss. 

You nodded. “I kinda want to go again...” 

He raised an eyebrow. “So you don’t want me to leave?” 

Laughing, you hit his chest playfully. “Did you imagine I’d kick you out straight away or something?” 

“No,” he insisted, looking a little embarrassed. “I just... I don’t know.” He looked really happy that wasn’t the case though. As if you’d kick him out after that performance. You were making the most out of tonight… 

You laid your head down on the pillow, still looking at him, weirdly uncaring that you were still naked. “You have more condoms on you, right?”

“I came prepared – just in case.” He felt the urge to add, not seeming to care his junk was still out at all. “Do you want to go again right now?”

You chuckled. “Give it a little while. You wore me out.” Although, you’d be highly impressed if he was able to go for round two immediately. 

“Sure,” he agreed, folding his other hand behind his head too, Adam’s apple bobbing as he spoke. “I could do with a nap.” 

A nap definitely sounded good right about now. You tapped his chest, sitting up. “Let me pee first.” 

Standing, you grabbed the gown draped over your wicker chair and slipped in on. Not before Seokjin snuck a glance though, groaning to himself and burying his face into the bed as if he couldn’t go on any longer. 

“Ugh, your body.” 

.

.

You woke up to a phone ringing. It sounded like it was coming from the floor because you could hear vibrations against the wood. Seokjin groaned and then slipped from under you, letting your head down gently to rest on the pillow. 

Once you’d come back from the bathroom you’d immediately jumped under the covers, feeling it cold now and encouraged Seokjin to follow. You’d cuddled for a little bit, your head on his chest and before long you’d fallen asleep. It couldn’t have been that long ago, and one look at your alarm clock as Seokjin searched for his phone in his jeans, told you it was half past midnight. 

“Who was it?” You asked sleepily, hearing it ring off just as he grabbed it. 

“Jungkook.” 

“Why is he calling so late?” 

Seokjin put the phone down on your dresser and got back into bed, wrapping his arms around you. He was still naked, the thought got you a little excited. 

“Probably gonna ask if I want to play a game of League.” Video games at this time? What was he, still in high school? You halted your judgement though, settling back against his chest. 

“I’ll just pretend I was asleep,” he shrugged. 

“You were asleep.” 

There was a pause, and then you felt his hand travel to ass, giving it a firm squeeze. You still had your gown on, but it was thin, and you could feel the heat of his palm easily. “I’m awake now,” he murmured. “Are you?”

“I guess so,” you teased, nudging your pelvis into his thigh ever so gently, silently giving him the go ahead. 

“I’ll tell Jungkook I was a little preoccupied then...” 

You lifted your head, looking unimpressed. “Don’t you dare.” 

Laughing loudly, he leaned in to kiss you. “As if he’d believe me.” You weren’t particularly listening though, too busy getting addicted to his mouth again. 

You soon found yourself on top of him, his dick hard against your stomach as you made out furiously , his fingers brushing against the lips of your entrance, teasing you. 

He pulled his head back, a boyish grin on his face. “Can you ride me this time?”

Written 2020 - 2021.  Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2021 

[soulmate-game]

I was feeling angsty. Read at your own risk, there is very little comfort in this and a whole shit ton of hurt. Probably a bunch of emotional triggers, so seriously be careful guys.

—*—*—*—*—*

Liquid pain ran down her arm like poison, the slash in it burning hot and spreading it’s agony like an invisible waterfall inside her flesh. But she did not grip her bicep where the wound had been inflicted, her gaze blank as she forced herself to hide her turmoil behind glass eyes. Her brother’s snarling face was only inches in front of her own, his katana moving from her arm to her throat.

“Useless! To think we share any blood relation is humiliating!” He growled at her. She did not move, did not emote. Her blades fans, the weapon she was loved most, lay half-opened on the ground beside her. Abandoned. But she knew Damian’s sword would not kill her. Blood family was a bond that was not to be severed by murder unless ordered by Ra’s or justified by the murdered family member in question betraying the League. She had done nothing to betray the Shadows, and Ra’s would not waste time and energy, or the breath it would require, to order her death. Just as he would not waste the precious waters of the Pit to bring her back again. She would not die today, and she knew it.

Sure enough, it was only a few more insults in various languages before Damian Al-Ghul stepped back and scowled down at the blood on his blade. Her blood. “If you don’t even have the stomach for real combat, you do not belong here,” he spat.

“That is where we agree, Grandson,” Ra’s sharp voice echoed through the room, his beady eyes never once bothering to glance at his granddaughter. “Maria, you are hereby stripped of the name Al-Ghul. Banishment from the League is the only mercy you shall be granted for your dishonor on our blood. Be useful and use whatever is left of your mistake of a life to stay out of the League’s way. Shall I, Damian, or your mother ever see your face again, your burial will follow shortly after. Am I understood?”

“Yes Gr— yes, Ra’s Al-Ghul.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Maria Al-Ghul was seven years old when she was disowned and sent away from the League of Shadows without so much as a penny to her name. She was only allowed to take the change of clothes she carried, and one small backpack’s worth of items. Her mother— Talia— had watched vigilantly as she packed those items, assuring that Maria did not take anything of worth.

The girl traveled by foot, too small to get away with driving a vehicle. Unless she could manage to steal a motorbike— she knew how to adjust the seats and pedals on most models to accommodate her size. But she was far too far away from civilization for that.

She knew that most of the League expected her to die in the jungles that surrounded the temple. After all, there were ninjas scattered throughout it with strict orders to kill anyone who was not one of them. And Maria now fit that description.

But if there was one thing Maria knew better than anything else, it was how to hide. How to hide feelings, intentions, involuntary movements, or her whole body in almost any setting. She covered herself in mud, matted her hair with dirt and took off her shoes. Barefoot was always quieter, and her feet would be more sensitive to any change in terrain. She would have to move more slowly and be on the lookout for traps, ground litter that could harm her, or dangerous wildlife, but she would be much harder to track.

It took her a month, but she made it to her first Tibetan city alive and decently healthy. She begged for food for a day before snatching a child’s outfit off of some hanging laundry lines and stealing the first decent vehicle she found. It was an old moped, but it beat walking and was already built small. She made it work.

That was how she spent the majority of the next year. She traveled from town to town, stealing what she needed until she could earn money normally. She used that money to buy herself a fake identity, even if she had to use the skills she had hoped to never need again in order to afford it.

Marinette Shiwang was born when she was already eight years old.

It was only a year after her new identity was created when she bumped into a woman in a street market. That was nothing new, those places could get crowded. But when Marinette looked up and saw valuable bracelets and necklaces of gold and jade, she knew she needed at least one. The money she would get for it would have her living comfortably for a short while. So Marinette’s theft-experienced fingers darted out and unclasped one bracelet in a fluid movement. It took less than a second. She barely had the piece of jewelry in her hand before she started to take off, hoping to lose herself in the crowd.

But a small hand clamped around her shoulder, a sturdy thumb pressing against a very vulnerable spot right at the back of Marinette’s neck, at the base of her skull. A clear threat from somebody with experience.

The sweet voice that followed didn’t match the gesture at all.

“Oh, I need that back dear. It was a gift from my husband, you understand.”

Marinette did. She cared about survival more. The small girl twisted, knocking the hand away from her before it could do damage and darting down a side street. The woman followed. It took three hours, but Marinette decided she had finally lost her pursuer before slumping down in the tiny, closet-sized bedroom of her cheap apartment. Her eyes closed for only a second before the window opened, and the smell of newly-baked sesame buns filtered through.

It was the woman and a much taller, much more masculine man. He was practically a giant, reminding Marinette of a certain member of the League that she used to know. They were both smiling.

“My wife figured you would be more open to an exchange than just giving up the bracelet for free,” the man’s voice was deep and inviting. “You can eat as many buns as your stomach can handle, if you give it back.”

Marinette accepted. Mostly because of her fear for people who could track her to her home so easily, when she had been certain she had not been followed. The League has tuned her senses well, there was no way the couple had been close enough to see her when she made it to her apartment. Yet they were still there somehow. Then, it also had to do with the promise of food, and the heavenly smell of the food itself. And then, lastly, Marinette was tired. She didn’t like stealing, it was just a necessity. She would not hurt these people over a mere bracelet that she wished she didn’t have to take in the first place.

Useless, she thought. So much of a bleeding heart that she just gave up what could have paid for two months rent. Too soft to even protect herself. The Al-Ghuls has been right. She was a waste of space and time.

Marinette was ten years old when she became a Dupain-Cheng. Somehow, that strange, dangerous couple had become her new family. Not even she knew how. But she was grateful— they took her back to Paris with them and she didn’t have to worry about rent, or food, or money anymore.

She vowed, that day that she received her spacious attic bedroom, that she would repay them. She would make herself useful, for the first time in her life. She would stay out of their way, be the perfect most unobtrusive daughter ever. She would help in the bakery, keep a smile on her face so that they never doubted that they were doing a good job. So that they never wasted time worrying about her. She smiled, and laughed, and became successful for them. Competent and reliable even though her memories would sink into her dreams every day and make it near impossible to drag herself out of bed in the mornings.

And then, when Marinette Dupain-Cheng was thirteen, she was given a pair of magical earrings and a tiny fairy-god. And Tikki was thorough, at least. Diligent in her explanation. Marinette listened to every word, dread seeping in as she doubted her ability to carry out such an important task. Save a city? Defeat someone much more experienced and magically powerful than her?

Useless little Maria could never. Slightly less useless Marinette could never.

She was only ever meant to play a support role. Stay on the background and make everyone else shine, without ever succeeding in anything worth noting. That was who she was.

But then Tikki gave her the Warning. The catch that came with the Ladybug abilities, and Marinette felt the long-rusted determination in her begin to fire up again. Maybe she could be Ladybug. Maybe she could be useful, at least this once. At least for just this one scenario. She could fight and win the war against Hawkmoth, and that achievement alone could make her happy. Let her die knowing she did something worthwhile.

—*—*—*—*—*

Damian Wayne was seventeen when he and his family found out about the Paris Situation, and immediately went over to offer help. Damian Wayne was seventeen when he watched Ladybug stumble at the sight of him, and immediately run away. But the two of them were twins, and though twin telepathy might be a myth they always did have a certain instinct when it came to one another.

Damian Wayne was Seventeen when he said, aloud on the top of a random Parisian building and surrounded by his family—

“My sister is Ladybug.”

Damian didn’t wait for their reactions, having entirely forgotten about the existence of his father and brothers, before taking off after his spotted sibling.

—*—*—*—*—*

“I knew you were alive.”

In hindsight, those probably weren’t the best words for him to say when Maria clearly thought he was still an assassin.

Damian watched as Marinette spun to face him, her face so much more expressive than he remembered. He could actually see the resignation in the slump in her shoulders, he could feel the fear in her bluebell eyes. The eyes she was lucky enough to get from their father while he was cursed with their mother’s green irises. He used to envy that about her, especially after joining the BatClan. But now he only felt comfort when he looked into her eyes. Comfort that she was different than him, and always had been. In the best of ways.

He watched as his sister was enveloped by a bright flash of pink light, detransforming right in front of him. And without the mask, it was impossible to ignore the relation between them. She had their father’s eyes and nose where he had their mother’s, but other than that they were almost carbon copies of one another. Her blue-black hair was pulled back into twin braids though, something he noted distantly as oddly fitting. They suited her, he thought.

But all those thoughts instantly turned to dust as she dropped to her knees in front of him, head bowed in complete submission.

“Tom and Sabine are innocent,” she told him. “They adopted me out of nothing but goodwill, and they have been nothing but good to me. I never told them a single word about my origin, I swear it on our blood. They think I am just an orphan that was abandoned in Hong Kong—“

“Maria—“

“—so please, don’t harm them. I’m begging you. And there is no need for you to waste energy killing me. You are welcome to stay in Paris as long as no harm comes to Tom and Sabine, but just wait and watch. I know who Hawkmoth is, and our final plan is almost ready. I’ll have him taken down by next week. Just— wait until then, please. My death will take care of itself afterwards, but Paris deserves to be free, and killing me now will set this entire war against Hawkmoth back by at least a year. And I also need that time to pick my successor—“

“Maria! I am not here to kill you!” Damian had to yell to get her to stop babbling and begging. She froze, but didn’t dare to sit up or even raise her head. So Damian took the initiative and sat down on the ground with her, though he kept his distance so that he didn’t scare her too badly. He couldn’t blame her for her reaction, it had been ten years since they had seen one another and their parting hadn’t exactly been pleasant.

But he had changed a lot since then, matured a lot.

“I am completely disconnected from the League,” he admitted. Of the blurry memories he had of her, he did remember that being blunt was the best way to handle information with her. Beating around the bush had always done nothing but make her exceptionally nervous and jittery. Sure enough, his admission was enough to make her look up at him with disbelieving eyes. He risked a small grin. “I didn’t come in my old uniform, did I?” He gestured to himself in the bright Robin colors. Sure enough, Marinette’s rapid blinking proved his theory that she hadn’t even registered his clothing at all to be true. She had run as soon as she recognized his face.

But Marinette did not speak. She sat up a little, still eyeing him cautiously. But her silence helped him finally realize where they were— where she had led him.

The sounds of traffic and other big city noises were all muted, as if muffled by several layers of cloth. Shadows fell over them abundantly, and they were surrounded by dilapidated concrete walls.

She had brought him to an abandoned area far from any activity, where a body would take ages to find. She had then disarmed herself of her only weapon, her magic suit, and had gotten on the ground in total submission.

She had purposely given him the perfect setting to kill her, where there would be no witnesses and plenty of time before her body would be found for him to escape. That realization hit Damian square the chest, leaving him breathless for a moment.

“I am not here to kill anybody,” he reiterated, his voice noticeably much gentler than before. “Not you, not you adoptive parents, nobody. I left the league when I was eleven. Mother—“ he took a breath, but Maria deserved to know. “— she cloned me. Her clone killed me. He no longer exists, but that is of no consequence. She killed me, she and Grandfather disowned me when I made it clear I was not returning. Father— our father,” he was insistent as he leaned forward, not continuing until she met his gaze. “You remember who our father is, right? Bruce Wayne? Mother had dropped me off to be raised with him when I was ten, but of course it was all just one of her plots. It was her miscalculation though, because I ended up growing close to them. To Father and his adopted children. You would get along with Gra— with Dick, the best I think. Although T— Jason would also be a prime contender as your favorite brother, I think. He shares your love of motor bikes, if that hasn’t changed?” She just stared at him, clearly confused and experiencing a lot of feelings at once. He stayed silent for a moment to allow her to sort through them a little.

“I’m Robin now,” he made his voice quieter, but still easy for her to hear. “I’m a member of the Bats. I’m sure they would all welcome you, if you chose to meet them. Though be warned, they can be quite in—“

“Why are you doing this?” Marinette’s voice was barely above a whisper, Damian almost didn’t hear her. But he did, and fell silent. He watched as his sister licked her lips and tried to find the right words to say. “If what you say is true… you have a perfectly good family. Brothers, Father, a comfortable life. Why follow me then? Why offer me… any of that?”

Damian frowned. He didn’t remember Maria being so gloomy, but then again she had been raised to never show her emotions. Maybe, after years away from the temple like him, her true feelings were just easier for him to see now. Closer to the surface.

“I want to get to know you— to get to know my sister, again,” he told her. “Don’t tell them, but Father and the others have taught me to appreciate family. The way I treated you when we were children was not right, and though it was heavily influenced by Mother and Grandfather, I want to make up for it nonetheless. Maybe we can get to know the new us, together?”

Marinette’s eyes went wide with disbelief, but then she clenched her jaw and shook her head.

“We can’t.”

“... right, I understand if you do not forgive me. I didn’t even consider—“

“It isn’t that,” Marinette was quick to correct him. “When I said that my death will handle itself, I mean it, Damian. The Ladybug… the earrings that give me my powers, come with a price,” she absently ran her fingertips over the unassuming black studs in her ears. “If a Ladybug uses the miraculous for more than three years, the powers of Creation will demand to be balanced. Already, the Miraculous is powering itself on nothing but my life force now. Once I defeat Hawkmoth, there will be no need for Ladybug anymore. The moment I take the earrings off, they will cease keeping me alive.”

Damian’s face fell. No— no, that wasn’t right. He was finally able to find her, finally able to apologize and try to fix his past mistakes. This couldn’t be how the reunion went. This couldn’t—

“Not even the Lazarus Pits can bring me back from a Miraculous death,” Marinette went on. “So you and your family should go. You don’t need to be here when I—“ Marinette paused, gasping. “Damian, why are you crying?! Stop that!” Her voice became desperate, Marinette crawling over to him as quickly as she could and wiping away his tears as if they were something terrifying. Damian wasn’t sobbing or making any noise, it was just a silent stream of tears running down both cheeks as he stared at her wordlessly.

“I…” he finally managed to choke out. “I wanted to make up for everything. I wanted for us to be twins again, together.”

Marinette paused, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “I know a magic user who can erase your memories of me,” she offered. “But you don’t have to feel guilty for anything. You never said anything that wasn’t true.”

Damian’s green eyes widened. He had said nothing but cruel things to her, that last year they spent together as children. Did she really believe all of that? Did he and their childhood really affect her self worth this severely and irreversibly?

“Maria—“

“My name is Marinette, actually,” she corrected him with a small smile. “I’m not Maria Al-Ghul anymore. Marinette Dupain-Cheng is actually useful, Damian. I can actually do things right— I’m doing something right right now. Beating Hawkmoth will be the first worthwhile thing I’ve ever done, don’t you see? Once it’s all over, I will have brought honor back to our blood. I’ll have proved to you that I really am your twin, that I wasn’t a mistake. That I was born for a reason,” Marinette’s eyes got dreamy even as Damian just felt like he was impaled again, this time by a spike of ice rather than a sword. “And I’ll be able to die before I ruin it. It’s a perfect scenario.”

“A perfect scenario implies that nothing important is going to be lost,” Damian breathed. Marinette just blinked.

“Yeah, I know. That’s the plan. Defeat Hawkmoth, save Paris, and nobody dies.”

“But you’re going to die!” He growled. Marinette leaned back, bewildered by his violent reaction.

“Yeah, but it’s not like I actually matter. Nobody needs me. Tom and Sabine might be hurt for a while, but they will recover just fine. And it’s not like I have friends or any—“

“Stop worrying about other people, damnit!” Damian surged forward, grabbing her shoulders hard enough to bruise and shaking her a little. “Even back then! Even when we were seven, you threw down your blades because you were more worried about hurting me than you were about how Grandfather would react, even though you knew he would be tempted to kill you for what he thought was cowardice! You never put yourself first, and it’s finally starting to piss me off!”

“Damian—“

“No, listen to me!” He shook her again, his tear stained cheeks only making his glare all the more potent as he stared right into her eyes. “You are alive, and your life matters! You were never worthless or useless, you just didn’t fit what our abusive situation wanted of you. They wanted a cold hearted killer, a tool they could use, and you were always too warm hearted and clever to fit either of those goals. But I did, I was the killer they were looking for and the pawn they wanted. If anything, that makes you better than I ever was! I was too young and naive to see it back then, but I’m trying to make up for it now. You are my sister, whether you go by Maria or Marinette, Al-Ghul or Wayne or Dupain-Cheng, I don’t give a damn! And so help me, even if I have to surgically attach those earrings to your skin, I am not letting you die before you gain at least a modicum of respect for yourself. Do you understand me?”

A wet sniffle met his ears, and he pulled Marinette in for a hug. She returned it weakly, sniveling and sobbing into his cape.

“D-d-Damian?”

“Yes, Shaqiqa?”

Another sniffle.

“I-is it really o-okay for me to stay with you?”

“Of course.”

“I-is… is it really oka-ay for… for me to live?”

Damian’s arms tightened around her. “Always. Always, always.”

Marinette buried her face into his shoulder, taking a deep shuddering breath.

“Th-then… I wanna try.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Not sorry. Ha 😎

[nevertheless-moving]

thanks again to @dykerory and @willowcrowned for this genius au. this is an incomplete collection of very specific set of headcanons/daydreams i had about a tangential version of your au that made me emotional in the middle of the woods. whenever you feel the time is right, i’m very eager to hear your og version on the ‘but obi-wan, tho!’, because i admittedly pushed this one’s resolution really far chronologically because i wanted batman to be involved.

continuation from here

note: my understanding of dcu is as sporadically informed as my understanding of the gffa. 

newly graduated clark kent gets his first journalism job and starts settling more and more into the superman thing. the rest of the justice league has been around but his entrance onto the scene is the one that really inspires the various heroes to actually start coordinating to deal with the weirdness magnet that is dcu Earth. Clark is in his early 20s. Anakin is in his late 30s.

He’s been living on Earth, without the force, for nearly 2/3rds of his life. He has a close knit circle of friends who were kind to him even when they thought he was just a weird and crazy emo cult victim (the gradual increase of public encounters with aliens and superpowers sparks some awkward apologies, Anakin at 38 just waves his friends off, smiling and changing the subject, neither confirming nor denying his high school ramblings of spaceships and magic. it doesn’t really change anything).

He lives an hour’s drive from smallville, and runs a successful auto shop. people travel from pretty far to check out some of his more wild and specialized motorcycle abominations. makes enough money selling them to rich idiots to fund his free auto-class and auto-repair programs for impoverished communities.

It took a while but he eventually came around to the idea of helping people without physical force (ironically, this is happening around the same time Clark is coming to the realization that he can help people with physical force). Generally respected as a pillar of the community. When people start to realize how profoundly weird he is as a person in a number of inexplicable ways, someone will generally pull them aside and quietly whisper that he was in a cult at a child, no one really knows much about it except that it’s what inspired his anti-modern-slavery work, which is a little telling. Not married. Was in a long-term relationship for like 9 years. It didn’t end well but no-one knows the details.

Has several cats. 

He’s- wistful but settled. He’s been through a lot of therapy. He meditates every morning and night, clearing his mind and examining his emotions in the way Obi-Wan taught him. He thinks Obi-Wan would be proud of him. He know his Mom would be.

Once he gets used to the idea, he never really stops loving the concept of learning just because. Duel bachelors degree in in african american history and american literature, masters in engineering, masters in astrophysics a phd in theoretical physics, another phd in medieval folklore. He’s worked a lot of jobs. 

He was already pretty well versed in astronavigation back at the temple. Over the course of his time on earth, he gets more educated in earth astronomy and physics. With is increased knowledge, his theory for ‘how did i get here’ shifts from slight hyperdrive miscalculation, to big hyperdrive miscalculation, to some sort of hyperlane incident. he realizes that none of the stars he knows are familiar in any NASA database. He must be beyond wildspace, which helps him let go of the last bit of hurt he felt that Obi-Wan never found him.

Then he really learns physics- and- light doesn’t exactly work like that right? He thought it was just primitive Earth understanding but... he gets a phd more or less accidentally, trying and failing to disprove that the speed of life is constant constant.

Get’s another even more accidentally, explaining how alternate universes might form if we assume slightly different universal constants. He publishes his thesis anonymously around the same time metas are becoming a household term, and at least one science journalist speculates on it and how alternate universes might explain the increasing prevalence of wildly different superpowers. He doesn’t claim credit for the honorary diploma awarded to the unknown theorist- he doesn’t want to risk drawing any attention to him and by extension Clark, who’s alien differences are far more of the ‘military experiment interesting’ variety then his.

He stops tinkering with Clark’s ship. He finally gets how it works. Now that he realizes how FTL travel has to work in this universe, tinkering with the mechanical generation and harnessing of the massive quantities of energy necessary to do is startlingly familiar. But it doesn’t matter. No matter how far and fast he travels, he’s never going to be able to get back to the life he used to know. 

Perhaps this is what being the chosen one actually means- he’s meant to live a life without the force, so that when he returns to it in death he’ll be able to somehow...educate? the force? maybe?

Ok, he’s not great at the metaphysical spiritual side of things, but he does accept that going back is out of his control, and he’s doing good here, even if it’s not galaxy altering.

Despite all the therapy, he never doubts that his early life was real. He has his saber and deep, deep down he can feel a spark in the kyber. He can’t do anything with it, but it’s there. There’s also pieces of the utter wreck that was his ship in the cellar, next to the sleek unblemished pod that Clark arrived in. Shortly before Clark becomes Superman, he asks for his help in melting down his old ship to make unearthly alloys. 

He’s not surprised when Clark tells him he met a ‘real’ ‘magic’ user- it stands to reason that considering how relatively easy it is to convert energy from one form to another in this universe (Clark can fly), at least one kind would bend to sentient willpower in a similar way as the force does.

It’s still a little nervewracking showing his lightsaber to someone new for the first time in a decade. Zantana scrutinizes, bewildered. 

“There is some sort of power locked within, but it’s unfamiliar to me,” she admits finally. “I could probably brute force it and force the energy to release itself, but it would likely destroy the container.” Anakin politely refuses. 

Later, after the justice league’s formation, Clark mentions to J’onn that he has a friend who might be able to work on his ship. J’onn is extremely doubtful when he’s brought to a bizarre autoshop in the midwest that looks half-like a roadside attraction. Anakin sighs and digs his hands into the guts of the craft, muttering incomprehensibly and yelling at clark to melt down some pieces from the special scrap pile. A few days later he explains the patches he’s done to an impressed J’onn. When he asks how a human came to learn such things, he’s absently informed that,

“I used to work in a junkshop in Tatooine. All sorts of ship parts came through.”

“I’m unfamiliar with this world.”

“Tell you what, if you ever meet anyone who’s heard it of it, send them my way, and I’ll make your next repair free.”

“Oh! I’m afraid I don’t have any earth money...”

“Ugh, of course you don’t. it’s cool, capitalism sucks anyway and everyone’s entitled to free transportation, regardless of the area they happen to live. I do ask that if you can’t pay for the repairs that you spend an equivalent number of hours either attending one of my free auto classes, or volunteer at a community-led charities of your choice, here I’ll get you a pamphlet-”

So the Martian Manhunter becomes a weekly volunteer at a Midwestern Food Waste Reclamation Facility. J’onn J’onzz ends up becoming Anakin Skywalker’s friend well before he becomes comes truly comfortable around Kal-El. For a telepath, 39 year old Anakin’s Jedi orderly mind is a soothing relief.

(again, Anakin has spent far more time meditating on Earth then he ever did at the temple. Before all this, spent five years dutifully memorizing the Jedi way even as he struggled to live up it’s basic practices. For the first few years on earth, religiously practicing every meditation technique Obi-Wan ever taught him, thinking obsessively about the philosophies he never had time to really process, is just a desperate attempt to reconnect with the force, prove himself worthy of it. But even after he gives up on ever touching the force again, he keeps up the practice, he can’t release his emotions exactly, but he does find peace. The tendency to stop mid-rant to earnestly pronounce made up zen bullshit and then sit quietly for an hour before picking up on his tirade again as though there was no interruption is one of the things many things people find profoundly weird about him)

Kal-El doesn’t stop asking new aliens and dimensional travelers if they’ve ever heard of Coruscant, or Hutts, or the Jedi Order. Anakin might have given up, but Superman remembers his older brother scrubbing away his own tears to focus on helping Clark calm down enough to touch the floor again. The more the Kryptonian’s powers developed in alarming ways, the more Anakin set aside talk of missing his home galaxy. Anakin might have claimed it wasn’t like that, but Clark was determined to take every chance his increasingly weird life threw at him, no matter how vanishingly small.

In the middle of his first battle with Braniac, Clark starts insulting his incomplete database. The world collector pauses, demanding a more precise explanation. Clark complies, giving his best technical description of Coruscant’s cityscape, Tatooine’s binary star system, and so on. Braniac is so distracted that Superman recovers completely from his kryptonite poisoning and easily saves the day.

Neither the lantern corp or the denizens of the neutral zone have the answers. Superman doesn’t mention it it Anakin, but he never stops looking and listening.

“How did you even meet that guy?” Flash asks curiously after stopping to say hello on one of their after work laps of the country. 

“Aliens among us support group,” Kal-El responds deadpan. 

“Oh. Wait, what? He’s an alien? I thought he was from the future or something! You’re messing with me. No way that’s a thing. How many people are in the support group? This is a joke, right?”

“Sorry, most of them aren’t out and I don’t want to violate their privacy- a lot of them have high profile jobs. How do you think I met J’onn?”

“SUPES I’M FREAKING OUT RIGHT NOW YOU’VE GOTTA STOP”

Anakin is just sort of vaguely known by a solid chunk of the super community as ‘that one midwestern zen space mechanic’ and no one really questions it because everyone’s life has just gotten so goddamn weird. A few of them know he used to be a space wizard of some kind. Space wizards now being a regular hazard of life on earth, no one has reason to doubt this, and it’s as good an explanation as any for Anakin’s general vibe.

well. almost no one doubts this. Batman does not simply accept Anakin’s general bullshittery without carefully investigating and drawing his own conclusions. He does not share these with anyone.

But one day Clark- this is well after Superman became Kal-El to him, and not long after Kal-El tells him to call him Clark- comes up to him and asks for his help finding about an alternate universe. Knowing and dreading where this is going, Batman stalls,

“Shouldn’t you be asking one of the league members who regularly travels between universes?”

“I have, over the years,” Clark admits, awkwardly scuffing a boot on the floor of the cave. “But no one’s familiar with the exact one I’m looking for, and I thought since you’re a detective, and also one of the smartest people I know, you might be able to help me...”

“You’re an investigator yourself, and you can survive the vacuum of space,” Bruce shoots back flatly. “I’ve told you before Gotham is my priority, and this has ‘personal project’ all over it.”

“Come on, B, please,” Superman pleads, trailing Batman around the cave like an overgrown puppy. “In a few months it will have been 30 years! He’s my brother! Just let me see the research you’ve already done!”

“Who says I’ve already done research on your brother?”

Clark shoots him a look. And Bruce concedes the point with a grunt.

“I’ll need need to talk with him first,” Bruce finally concedes. “Bring him by the cave. Take the-”

“Take the tunnel entrance, I know, I know,” Clark agrees with a grin. “This doesn’t mean he’s authorized to know your secret identity. Thanks Bruce, this means a lot. I’ll ask him tomorrow about his schedule.”

Superman flies off and Batman scrubs his face with a gloved hand. After a moment he pulls up Anakin’s file on the main monitor. Bruce honestly respects and likes the man, as much as he respects and likes anyone who’s not family. He admires his sense his style, appreciates his upgrades to the batmobile, and is impressed by both this civil rights work and his additions to the scientific community.

That doesn’t mean he’s not convinced that Anakin’s brother is a bit insane. Again, he’s not judging! He dresses like a bat to scare random henchmen and beat up actual demigods! He wishes his rogues gallery was as capable of directing their ptsd-inspired delusions and staggering intellects towards such productive pursuits!

Bruce was already in quiet awe of the Kent’s ability to raise an outrageously superpowered being without blowing up a chunk of the country; their success in derailing a supervillian origin story just puts him over the edge. He stares at the three most likely profiles he’s pulled together. Christen Jones, from a negligent family, death certificate filled out suspicously sloppily at age 3. Earl Lucas, went missing at age 9, both parents dead in a violent assault. And Jake Hayden, who at age 5 disappeared along with the rest of his family in a seismic accident later linked to Luthercorp.

Anyone of them could have suffered on the streets for years and coped by establishing an elaborate fantasy world, aided by self medication, only to eventually be picked up by the Kent’s and start healing. Certainly Anakin had the intellect to create worlds in his mind. All his rogues were smart enough to create their own little realities in their heads- it doesn’t mean they were actually reachable. 

Unfortunately Anakin had a Kryptonian younger brother who was determined to actually find the space wizard knight homeworld, even as the 'Jedi’ in question had slowly moved away his reliance on the delusion as an adult. Batman really didn’t see any way bringing up his conclusions to Anakin or Clark could possibly be helpful, and so many alien allies had a ‘If you find about the Jedi please contact Kal-El of Krypton on Earth’ pamphlet that it would be excruciatingly awkward to try and discretely correct anyone.

Bruce was not looking forward to this conversation.