#which would basically pay for flights + a bit extra

[swiftiephobe]

.

[mochinomnoms]

Since PTM!Yuu has magic, does it mean they capable of flying on a broomstick? Do they have to take remedial flight classes since they wouldn't have been able to take the class in their first year? As someone who is absolutely terrified of heights, I know I'd be absolutely terrible at it and would probably need extra lessons to get anywhere with it lol.

Maybe coach Vargas gets Yuu to do some after-school flight workshops (i think thats what its called?) along with none other than Jade. I can imagine Jade trying to act suave and composed in front of them whilst simultaneously trying not to fall flat on his face on the broom. Maybe seeing him out of his depth and floundering will help Yuu see that there is more to this big bad eel than meets the eye 🥰

Yes! They can, but their classes vary by semester, like in a regular college. For the sake of story, I'm having the potions class be a two semester course for the sake of plot and looking at it the same way you would with a thesis or dissertation can sometimes be spread over multiple semesters. I also like to think about the more logistics about how NRC and its classes are run and have a lot of headcanons that I put in PTM.

But for flight, I like to think that flight class is one of those basics that all students have to take at least their first semester. Then they have an option to complete a sports club for the rest of their mandatory credits or continue with general physical education with Vargas, which included flight.

If you do particularly bad, such as merfolk in flight class, you are required to take a remedial class in that specific subject. In Jade and Azul's case, they both have to take a remedial flight class, but Floyd is able to get around it by being in the basketball club.

The remedial class is less about getting a good grade (it's a pass or fail class) but more about demonstrating that you are able to do basic moves and exercises on the broom. If you do, then you get a pass grade, which allows you to graduate. In the fic, I have it set that the remedial class is paired up with an advanced flight class, which is meant for students potentially interested in pursuing Spelldrive as a career. For extra credit or as an honors project, those students can be paired with one of the remedial students and tutor them.

With all that in mind, Grim tends to handle the magic bases classes in the canon storyline, or it's implied at least. I think that since they're in their second year in PTM, they have at least one semester for Yuu to catch up and make up for Grim's grades. So while they're not yet at the level that they'll need a remedial class or workshop yet (and for spoiler reasons the Nurse doesn't allow for them to participate in rigorous exercise), they might in the future!

What I do think makes for a fun scenario is Yuu needing to go to the class to take pictures, as is their job still. So they take pictures of the students in flight class! And imagine their surprise when they really pay attention to Jade and just how bad he is on the broom. He's always so elegant, it's so funny seeing how hard he clenches the brook and stares at the ground the moment his feet leave the ground.

It's almost cute, seeing him so nervous. He never lets anyone see him like this, but even Jade has his moments of simply being a person, rather than a perfect right-hand man. He even manages to get turned upside down at one point, though he's barely off the ground he's wrapped his legs and arms around the broom like is life depended on it.

Yuu can't help but laugh at him and his expression, covering their mouth to feebly hide their laughs. Jade is mildly annoyed that someone is laughing at him, until he realizes just who it is. Now he's admiring the cute sounds leaving their mouth and considering letting himself be the butt of the joke for just a bit longer. At least until his grip slips and he falls on his back.

[justcallmecj]

Seeing Your Dragon Form: First Years

(I feel like this chapter of the series may be crappier than the previous ones. I'm slowly running out of ideas and have used up quite a bit of my writing energy recently. I've come to realize that writing for the First Year Squad is just harder for me because I'm used to the pure crackhead energy the fandom gives them, but I'm still going strong! Oh well, I really want to write, so here I am!)

^Original note from Quotev that I put prior to the chapter. As a sort of mini explanation for my mindset going into this one.

Ace

Ace wanted to look unimpressed and chill, but he was currently losing it, and you could tell.

When you finally settled down, he approached you with his hands behind his head, really trying to hit home the idea he wasn't fanboying over you right now.

You brought your head down to allow him to get a closer look as well as touch your horns and snout.

He was a lot gentler than you thought he'd be.

He carefully ran his hand up and down your snout, making you hum in the process.

He tried talking to you, getting frustrated when you'd only hum and growl, before those two working brain cells in his head worked and he figured out that you couldn't actually talk.

He doesn't know, for some reason, a part of his brain just assumed you'd be able to talk.

Despite the current situation, Ace's behavior didn't change. He still tried to tease you, coming up basically unsuccessful because that's just how it is between the two of you, didn't stop him though.

Once, when you weren't paying attention, he tried to climb onto your back, not expecting the reaction that you'd have.

When you realized, you rolled over, trapping him under you. Due to the size difference, he was completely stuck, despite how much effort he put into trying to push you off him. You made sure not to hurt him though, and you didn't.

He could practically hear you laughing, even if it just came out as draconic grumbles.

sigh "You really never change, huh? You big bully! Though honestly, what can I say? I'm the same way, and I wouldn't want you any other way."

Deuce

Deuce was certainly nervous.

No fear. His brazen, delinquent years prepared him to take on any challenge that may be thrown at him, but this was definitely different.

He was stunned for a decent while after you transformed. Just kinda standing there, frozen in place.

Pretty sure his brain fried for a moment.

When he finally came back to his sense, he tried to play it all off with compliments, but really, there was no tricking you, but you gave him the benefit of the doubt and ignored it.

He was the most interesting by your wings.

(If I remember correctly)One of the reasons he likes being on the Track Team/Magical Wheel(?Can't remember which), is feeling the wind rush past him when he picks up speed. Because of this, he really admired your wings, which could do the same thing but ten fold.

He really wanted to ask you to take him on a flight with you, but was too shy to ask out loud. Maybe one day he'll have the confidence.

He made sure to be extra careful around parts like your horns, tail and other parts that may be considered sensitive/vulnerable. He didn't want to risk being even a little to rough and hurting you. He'd never forgive himself if he hurt you. (He doesn't realize how tough dragon skin and scales are, just give him a while).

All in all, it was a pleasant experience for the both of you. He had fun getting to see a new side of you, and you got to have a breather in your dragon form with no worries about who's around you.

"This is truly amazing. I can't believe you're capable of something like this. You really make NRC much more fun than it would be if you weren't here."

Jack

His reaction was much different from the others.

You and him are pretty similar in more ways than some may think.

Both of you are non-human beings capable of turning into a natural animal form. Him a wolf, you a dragon.

He was calm, but astounded. He didn't think you'd be quite so big.

He gets bigger than a normal wolf when he uses his Unique Magic, but he always assumed that was because he's a bigger person himself. Maybe it's just natural for anyone capable of this ability.

He was cautious to approach, not fully aware of how conscious you are, taking his own wolf state into account.

You just sat down, tail resting on the forest floor, wings at rest, showing just how comfortable you were in the situation. That convinced him that nothing had changed except how you looked.

He sat next to you, showing the same peaceful signs. Tail resting and ears calm.

You came closer, laying your head down next to his side. He reached out a hand and gently stroked the top of your head.

You two just stayed there like that for a while. Peacefully enjoying each others calm presence, until he stopped petting you.

You had gotten so used to the feeling and were so close to falling asleep, him stopping upset you.

In retaliation, you picked up your head and placed it down in his lap. He panicked for a moment before freezing, not knowing quite what to do.

He soon recognized the affectionate action. It was one his younger sister and brother would do when they wanted affection without actually saying they wanted affection. A silent plea.

He placed his hand back on your head, petting you like he was not even a minute ago. Sometimes he'd move his hand and scratch behind your ear, which caused you to hum and delight.

"We really are more alike than I thought. Are you sure you're not just a dog in disguise?" You grumbled at the playful tease, making him laugh.

Epel

Epel actually reacted much differently than you expected.

The moment he saw your dragon form, he wasted no time in rushing over and didn't even attempt to hide his complete adoration.

He jump up and down, bouncing on the heel of his feet. He rushed around, taking in every detail about you that he could.

His attention to speech completely leaves his mind and his natural accent slips in until he's speaking with such a think accent it's sometimes hard to understand what he's saying.

This may very well be the most excited you've seen Epel act, other than when he's getting competitive.

When he was finally able to wrap his head around everything and calm down, his demeanor changed on the dime, much like his personality can.

He softly took hold of your snout and held if close to his chest with his arms holding onto the underside of your head, something he likes to do even when you're in your normal form. For him, it's a show of trust, one he knew you'd understand.

A soft hum found its way out of your throat. He giggled at the affection.

You both took a rest and talked. It may have been a one-sided conversation, but he didn't mind.

He rambled on and on to fill the silence, accompanied with the occasional scratch under the chin.

There was a moment where he got jealous about how much bigger you were than him normally, let alone now. But, he soon got over it after thinking about how it must have just been natural since you weren't human.

"As much as I think it's unfair you can do all these cool things about how you look while I'm stuck like this, I'm still really happy that you opened up to me. I know what it's like to not be content with how you look, but we can do our own thing together!"

Sebek

Now, normally, Sebek is really respectful towards you. A byproduct from how he treats Malleus and how similar the two of you are.

Throughout the school year, it's taken some work, but you've gotten him to truly see you as a friend, not just another fae.

But, things did change a little bit after seeing your dragon form.

He's never seen Malleus's, because Malleus sees no use in taking his dragon form most of the time, so he didn't quite know what he was expecting to see from you.

When he watched a massive, spike covered, ice coated dragon walked out of the mist that practically came out of now where, he was honestly a little scared.

He remembered a story Lilia had told him and Silver once. It was about how once, when Malleus was young, he changed forms after throwing a temper-tantrum. After that, Sebek just started associating the idea with anger.

But, his time as a guard(and your friend) allowed him to be more observant than some. He saw every cue that would tell your current mood. There was no anger, only a calm curiosity. A curiosity towards him.

The idea of you watching him with the intention to see how he'd react embarrassed him. He turned his head to hide the reddening of his cheeks, but he didn't realize the red had crept up his ears and right into your watchful gaze.

You made a sound, one he didn't recognize, but it sounded faintly like laughter.

You were laughing at him!!!

He stomped a foot and grumbled under his breath, only causing you make more of the laughing sounds.

After that whole fiasco, Sebek finally felt comfortable enough to let down his guard.

His sharp hearing allowed him to quickly pick up on the different meanings of certain sounds, enough to have a semi-coherent conversation. He made sure to keep his voice quieter than usual, only being able to guess how sensitive your hearing may be right now.

Eventually, the interaction between the two of you fell into a comfortable and familiar conversation, like nothing was different about this scenario than usual.

"I really should be finding Waka-sama right now, but as Silver has told me, I may need to lighten up. So, we'll stay here for a while longer." His voice got just a bit quieter, "Thank you for showing me this."

And then the original note I put on Quotev after the chapter-

(Well, I think this set actually came out a lot better than I initially though it would. These five weren't as hard to write for as they usually are once I actually started soooo- YAY!!)

You can see the mindset change, wow.

[ughkat]

focus on me | l.r.h

part two

part one here

tutor!luke x fem!reader

very mild smut, fluff, tutor x college student

wordcount : 1356

not proofread

9:45 am

I jolted awake at the sudden realization that my sleep had been a little too leisurely. Rubbing my eyes, I reached for my phone on the bedside table to check the time. My eyes widened at my tardiness.

I had to be across campus in my music class by 10, giving me only fifteen minutes to get ready and to journey my way to the music building, which was already a 10 minute walk. I hurried out of my bed and to the desk beside me, swiftly running a brush through my tangled hair. Completely ignoring my face routine, I grabbed the first hoodie I could find, and swapped my sweats for a pair of already worn black leggings.

I grabbed my bag which was hanging by the door, slipping on my shoes on my way out.

Out of breath, I hurried down winding flights of stairs, reaching for my phone to check the time. 9:51.

I walked at a face pace through crowds of students and administrators, switching between a light jog and a swift walk. I repeatedly checked my phone for the time to find that the minutes passed faster than usual today.

I arrived at the door to my music class at 10:00 on the dot, swinging the door open. The loud snap of the doors hinges caused the class to turn their attention towards me, leaving my face red. I put my head down and briskly took my seat in the back of the class. My professor quickly glanced at me with a straight face before taking a seat on a stool at the front of the classroom.

"Good morning, everyone." He began lightly, "Today's going to be a little different, a guest will be joining us for class today. I let out a sigh and sunk deeper into my chair, hopelessly wishing that my professor forgot about the tutor overnight.

"A former student of mine, Luke, will be coming in to introduce himself. He's going to be open for guitar tutoring to any of you who would like some extra help in my class." The students mumbled amongst themselves about the new tutor, as if they new something that I didn't. Is this tutor going to be the same Luke that Leah was talking about?

For the next fifteen minutes, my professor continued to ramble about respecting the new member of our class, how this tutor would benefit, and other meaningless words that I payed no mind to. His rambling was soon cut short by the sound of door. The class turned swiftly in their seats, me following. My face contorted and my eyebrow raised at the sight before me.

An absurdly tall, blond man made his way into the classroom, showing a warm smile. His hair laid in messy blond curls atop his head, his bright baby blue eyes hypnotized my classmates. He dressed properly in a flowing white button up and slacks, leaving the too few buttons of his blouse undone. He was almost prince charming like. This cannot be the tutor. Yet I couldn't shake the feeling that I've seen him before.

I watched in disbelief as the tall boy made his way past my seat and to the front of the room as the memory of the large boy who bumped into me yesterday flashed in my head. It was him.

He pulled a stool up next to my professor and took his seat, leaning his elbows on his thighs.

"Class, this is Luke." My professor greeted with a smile, gesturing to the boy next to him. Luke flashed a smile with a small wave before speaking.

"Hi, everyone." He began. His voice was one I wasn't expecting. His tone was much deeper, and had a hint of an accent I couldn't quite decipher. "I'm Luke, I graduated here in 2017. I basically lived in this classroom." He spoke with a chuckle. I looked around the room to gather the reactions to Luke from my class. The girls bit their cheeks and nails, staring longingly. The boys watching in admiration.

"I've always been in love with guitar, and I just wanted to share my love for it with other people." He explained. I watched the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, and the way his hair bounced when he laughed. He was undeniably beautiful.

My professor and Luke shared stories of his past classes together to class, while the class talked to Luke and amongst themselves and I watched Luke closely, studying his every move. I have to be alone with him? He has to teach me guitar? I was too lost in thought to hear my name being called several times.

"Y/n?" My professor called once more. I flinched from my trance, connecting eyes with Luke before my professor.

"Sorry, yeah?" I shook my head.

"Are you going to be able to stay during your lunch hour for tutoring?" He spoke calmly. I glanced back at Luke who was looking back at me with a tilted head, his hands connected in his lap.

"Uhm." I muttered, "Yeah, I'll be here." I spoke shakily.

"Great. Luke's a great mentor, he won't let you down." He spoke with a wink and a smile. I let out a fake laugh and forced a smile, putting my head down on my desk.

My class period went by agonizingly fast, leaving me dreading my upcoming lunch hour. I had to spend sixty minutes with this intimidatingly handsome stranger. I prayed hopelessly that I wasn't the only one in need of tutoring that day.

I stayed put in my seat watching class members leave one by one, watching myself become increasingly more alone by the minute. I came to realize that I would be the only one in need of help today. My professor wished me a good session before exiting the room.

Luke gave me a glance before standing up from his seat and making his way towards my chair. My eyes wandered the floor aimlessly as my heart rate began to incline.

"Y/n, right?" He spoke softly , dragging a chair nearby to sit beside me. I looked up at him, our eyes meeting momentarily.

"Yes." I piped anxiously.

"You seem nervous. You don't have to be nervous." He reassured me generously. "I know playing an instrument in front of people, especially alone, can be a little overwhelming." He ran a hand through his blond locks as he spoke.

"Yeah. I'm not too fond of guitar, let alone performing it." I giggled quietly, my eyes glued to my hands in my lap. Luke let out a chuckle following with a nod.

"I understand. How about this. We'll just talk today. Yeah? I wouldn't want to be told what to do by a stranger either, especially about a subject I don't even like." He smiled softly. I looked back to him reciprocating the smile.

"We can just chill. Talk about why you chose guitar, what else you'd like to do besides guitar... Sound good?" He chirped. I nodded.

"I'd like that a lot." I sighed. Luke adjusted in his seat, leaning back.

"You weren't very keen on the idea of a tutor, were you?" He tilted his head. Trying my best to spare his feelings, I hesitantly responded.

"Well... No. But, you turned out to be a lot cooler than I thought. You're not some old dude who's passion is 80's rock." I giggled. Luke chuckled and shook his head.

"Definitely not some old dude." He exaggerated with a laugh, "But definitely passionate about 80's rock." He joked with a serious tone. He leaned down to adjust the cuff on his slacks, causing me to catch a whiff of his strong cologne. He smelled heavily of a desirable musk and hypnotizing scents I couldn't name.

"Y/n, I think you're gonna do just fine. I'm confident that I'll get you enjoying that guitar in no time." He softly reassured with a smile, patting me on my knee. I swallowed a lump in my throat at the feeling of his large hand upon my leg.

"I hope so."

[ultimateaclrecovery]

Because making decisions is hard.

So I am looking to book flights to portugal. I’ll be doing a riding trip second half of the trip and just exploring portugal beforehand. My friend is joining for the riding and exploring Lisbon, but I’m going to go earlier and do Porto by myself. She is currently looking to arrive in Lisbon on the mid morning of November 6.

I am looking to leave on Nov 3 (flights cheaper on Sunday than earlier in the weekend) but I can’t decide if I want to fly into Lisbon or Porto.

I have three main flights that I am considering all for about the same price.

Leaving at 11am on Sunday, ~4:45 layover in Toronto, arrive Lisbon 9:20am on Monday.And then take a 3.5 hour bus to Porto.

Leave at 4 (or 6)pm, 4.5 hour layover in France (or two hours but maybe seems tight), land in Porto at 3:45pm on Monday

Leave at 4:30pm, have a 45min layover in Munich (!!!! Is this even possible? A terrible idea?) and then arrive at 12:50pm on Monday.

And then a fourth bonus, on a different airline than my friend would use (so different flight back), and less used by me so not as good for points or whatever.

Leave Saturday at 6pm and land in Lisbon at 3pm on Sunday. (With a 2.5 layover in London). For about 50 more.

I’d love to just land at 1pm in Porto on Monday but not sure if the extra two hours is worth the stress of the tight layover. I think I’d get to Porto sooner than almost 4 with landing in Lisbon and taking the bus, but again it’s a fair bit of hassle. Bus rides can be nice when you can look at the window and whatnot but I’ll also have to go back the same way so seems silly if I can just go to Porto directly for the same price. I’d love go a day or two earlier but the flights are either 200+ more expensive and or involve multiple stops.

And then for all of them I must decide whether to go with basic economy or pay the 200 extra for full economy. I don’t need a checked back there (could get one on the way back for 75 if I got too many souvenirs), could pay for seat selection if I really wanted to. But I’m nervous about the limited ability to change or modify the flight. The three United flight all let you do it for a few, but the fourth flight just says no changes 😬 but also 200 bucks.

So which flight?

[suomeen]

Chapter 3: The Longest Journey

We departed on December 20. Took the bus at 2 pm and went through 3 of Ukraine’s major cities to pick up other passengers and head for Poland. The trip started out well but soon things began to go south. The bus itself was alright. However, the site boasted outlets for your devices and free wi-fi. Which is true technically. Except the outlets were the type basically nobody uses in Europe and the wi-fi… there was a whole of 250 MB, all for the taking for your 16-hour ride. The seats were fine but the human body is not really made to sit in one place for so long. My knees were soon hurting and I barely had any sleep.

The trip itself was a bit of a mess too. Flixbus clearly doesn’t want to pay for extra buses for emergency situations so when another one of their buses broke, our driver had to pick up its passengers. Then another company’s bus broke and we took some of its passengers too. Sitting in a bus for hours is bad enough, but at least we weren’t the ones standing in the aisle, wet from the rain. We felt sorry for those people but it was very frustrating for everyone. This incident set us back a few hours. Then there was the border crossing.

Poland was startlingly unwelcoming. I didn’t expect much. I knew we were way past the “Poland is our best buddy” early war honeymoon illusions but this encounter still took me by surprise. We arrived at about 5 am but had to wait for a few hours in a line of other buses before finally proceeding to the border control. At first, they had the few men on the bus go there, making sure they had the right to leave the country. Then it was the rest of us. There were about 5 Poles at the checkpoint and they were not happy to see us. I honestly don’t know what our people did in these 2 years that they hated us so much. First a blond middle-aged woman came up to the bus and began to shout at us in Polish to get out in groups. I understood most of it, but I shouldn’t be expected to. Then we went to show our documents to a few dudes in booths who asked us where we were going and why. After that, a tall handsome young man began to rummage in some people’s bags. He took his time dismantling one woman’s bag, which mostly contained children’s clothes. Her little son, about 3, wanted to help and I don’t like children much, but he was adorable and made all of us passengers smile. Not the Poles though, they didn’t budge. None of them spoke Ukrainian or Russian, or maybe didn’t want to. I wonder who pissed them off so much. We were tired and stressed out as it was and this felt like we were some sort of criminals, not women and children fleeing from a war.

I managed to book a trip directly to the Warsaw airport so, despite the delay, we still had 2 hours to get on the plane. I was just glad we took a plane because 16 hours on a bus wrecked me and I can’t imagine 40, which is what most other people had to endure. We got the world’s most expensive coffees and muffins and took off. The flight was delayed but only by about 10 minutes so it was fine. The Finair plane was kinda small but the flight was very smooth. The weather was rainy but up there, above the clouds, the sun shone brightly and I felt my heart healed a little.

Finland greeted us with blinding whiteness and I felt a strange comfort when we finally arrived. But there was still a good chunk of road ahead.

Normally, most people in our situation would just go to Helsinki and apply for asylum at the closest police department. But this way you get assigned to any place in the country they see fit. Our plan was different. Since we had a friend there and we wanted to be close to her, we were to go to the large city nearest to her and apply there. She even asked at the reception centre and was told they would be expecting us and we would probably get an apartment that was prepared for moving in.

So first, we had to take a city train to get to Tikkurila. Then we had to take the intercity train to a city where we would later be living. But instead of going there, we were to stay at our friend’s so we then had to take another train that got us closer to her where she could pick us up.

I had no internet connection of my own and got to rely on whatever hubs were available. There were none at the station and I was getting a bit panicky that I would miss the train. I had to bother a few Finns for directions, the first of many. They were very friendly and tried to help the best they could. As I got into the train, I had trouble opening my ticket on the ancient tablet I had but the conductor was nice and patient with me and let me take my time as he went on to check the tickets of other passengers.

The intercity train was great. Fast and smooth, it was the best part of the trip. The cars were clean and comfortable. Everything was designed to make the trip enjoyable for everyone. The Finns looked relaxed and many took off their shoes for the ride and stretched their legs languishly.

We also found ourselves in the children car. The idea of such a car would probably sound a little annoying to me, but I was happy to be there. There were many parents with small children and a part of the space was free of seats with some stuff for them to play in. Small kids were running around back and forth in the aisle. Some fell a few times but nobody seemed to worry, kids or parents. They just got up and continued on their way. I sat next to a Finnish mother with a tiny baby. I don’t care about babies that much but I couldn’t stop looking at her. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so gentle and tender and loving as she was with her child. The whole car had such a soothing atmosphere of peace and joy. It later turned out that we took the wrong car and when the rightful owners of these seats came, we had to move to another. But I’m glad we made that mistake so I could experience this.

This train was also slightly late. Not by much, but enough that we were risking to miss the transfer. I’m glad I decided to seek help from the lovely young woman staff, so we just barely made it to our final train, which was a small local train, far less glamorous. After bothering some more Finns, we finally got help from a nice older man and made sure we were going the right way. After another 40 minutes, we finally stepped off the train and into the dark, immediately greeted by our friend and her husband.

It wasn’t the longest trip of my life but it sure felt like it and was certainly the most intense and nerve-wrecking. Honestly, I don’t even know how I survived the journey, let alone got it all right, though a lot of it was thanks to the lovely Finnish people.

We did not immediately go to their place. First, we went to the nearby building to have our photos taken for the police. Your document photos never look good but having them taken after a 28-hour journey makes them extra ugly. Though I suppose fitting for a refugee application. Finally, after a short drive, we arrived at the house we would spend the next week at.

[duexdub]

heyyy idk how requesting works since this is my first time!! but I love your writing sm by far so may I request zhongli x male reader fluff like the reader works at baizhu's pharmacy and he caught zhongli's eyes,,, anyways baizhu keeps teasing him about it. yeah don't feel pressured to do it, take your time and drink water!! :]

My god ur so sweet (*≧▽≦).

Zhongli X Male!Reader

Fluff?!?!?! From duexdub??

Contains/warnings: cringy old ppl, cheesy flirting.

(Reader is over the age of 21.)

Word count : (medium) around 1k words

———————————————-

Who knew the quiet and mysterious Mr.Zhongli had a crush on the doctor at Bubu Pharmacy? (It isn’t Baizhu.)

———————————————

It was a nice day in the city, it was sunny with the perfect amount of wind around the area, being surrounded by the nice architecture and nature around the building where you worked at.

You were currently leaning your elbow on the front desk of the pharmacy, sitting on the desk beside you was a little zombie, Qiqi. She was sitting there looking ahead too, into the terrace of the city, having a glass of coconut or “cocogoat” milk in her hands, drinking through it with a straw. While dozing off, your mind went back to the time where some guy and this kid and its…. Floaty thing?? Came by to talk to Baizhu the other day about something. This “guy” attracted you, he had a nice body figure, a nice voice, a nice personality and a nice everything basically. “Qiqi? Do you remember that guy that came the other day? Y’know brown hair with orange in the ends and had like a suit on?” You asked her, speaking with your hands trying to give her a little help. “No. Qiqi doesn’t remember. Sorry.” She responded back.

You sighed closing your eyes and leaning against your shoulder more. “Hey [y/n].” You turned around seeing your boss there, Dr.Baizhu. “Yes?” You said responding back. “I need you to get some herbs from Qingce Village, i know its really far but i’ll pay you extra.” He explained looking at you with a pleading look. “Which herbs do you need?” You asked “glaze lilies, the seed. And not the ones from the city, they’re all impure.” He stated and you nodded. “Thank you, [y/n].” Baizhu told you as you went to pack your bag with necessities for the trip.

Right as soon as you left the city. The curiosity of someone stuck to you. Having to walk across the city, Mr.Zhongli was enjoying the view of his city, though he’s resigned from being the archon of this city and land, it still holds him dearly. Making his way up the steps, also enjoying the breeze going around. “Hello Dr.Baizhu.” Zhongli greeted “And little miss Qiqi.” He said noticing the kid on the desk, enjoying her milk. “Hey Zhongli.” Baizhu responded looking back at him. “Can i ask for the name of one of your employees?” He asked “He’s about [your height], [h/c], [e/c], [s/c]?” He said describing you. “Oh, [y/n]? He just left to Qingce Village.” Baizhu responded. “Oh, alright.” Zhongli said with a pondering look on his face. “[y/n] caught your eye?” Baizhu said teasing him and laughing a little bit. “He’s a fine man, so I can’t blame you, good luck Mr.Zhongli.” Baizhu laughed as Zhongli sighed. “I just find him interesting, nothing more.” He responded, lying to himself. “Thank you anyways.” Zhongli said leaving the building going down the huge flight of stairs that lead out of the pharmacy. Going back to his job at the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor.

You were gone for nearly 3 days but each day Zhongli grew more impatient, wanting to see and talk to you again. During his morning strolls he would pass by the pharmacy was more than he did before, he was eager to get to see you again. Though it confused him, he knew what he was feeling.

After a few days you were finally back, tiredly walking into the pharmacy. “Oh hello, [y/n]” you looked up to see Baizhu at the desk talking with someone, this someone was the guy you kept thinking about. He stood with his hands held behind his back and turned his head to look at you. “Hello, Dr.Baizhu…” you said tiredly going behind the desk and handing him the bag of glaze lilies. “Well i’ve got my stuff! Also someones been looking for youuu~” Baizhu teased pointing behind him as he went to the back of the pharmacy to do whatever he needed to do, you looked back to where he pointed seeing him. He looked professional, tidy, and clean, while you here had messy hair, eye bags and wrinkled clothing. “Uh hello!!” You said fixing yourself. “Can i ask for your name sir?” You asked looking at him eager to know his name. “I go by Zhongli. And you’re [y/n] i hope?” He told you “yeah, thats me.” You said “May i take you out for some tea at Luili Pavilion?” He asked you. You froze in shock not being to respond “sure. When?” You accepted “when the sun starts to set, about 6. “ he told you in a matter-of-fact voice “ok..” you said getting all sappy inside.” You watched as he left the place with his hands still behind his back, such a formal man. You heard the sound of a bag of mora slap on the desk. “Heres your pay [y/n], 4 thousand mora.” Baizhu said with a painful look on his face. “Make sure you pay for the dinner and get yourself something nice to wear its only 2.” Baizhu informed you as if he were your mom. You left the place with your bag of 4 thousand mora.

——————-

It was now 5:40 as you you were walking to Luili Pavilion, you were wearing your nicest outfit that was also casual. While walking there, you noticed Zhongli walking across the street from you, you started walking closer to him as he noticed you coming to him. “Greetings, [y/n]” he said looking at you with a small smile that made your heart melt. “Hello, Mr.Zhongli.” You greeted back with a bigger smile. You both walked to the restaurant making it pretty early as the story-teller was reading the story he’d be telling today. You both sat down at one of the stone tables, sitting across each other. A waiter came up to both of you asking what you’d like to order before the story starts. You both just ordered green tea. “So uh, Mr.Zhongli-“ , “You can just call me Zhongli.” He cut you off. “Sorry, Zhongli, where do you work at or what do you do?” You asked trying to spark up a conversation. “ Im a consultant at The WangSheng Funeral Parlor.” He responded looking back at you to respond “ Aha, our jobs are kinda the opposite y’know? I help prevent people from dying and if they do i guess you just deal with them.” You said, both of you chuckling together a little. The tea came in and the story-teller started reciting, perfect timing honestly.

——————

It was now 8 where the story had just ended. You and Zhongli were slightly bickering on who should pay the bill. “I brought you here, [y/n] i should pay.” He tried reasoning with you as you were already taking out the mora from your wallet. You both ended up deciding on paying half of it each. You both walked out out of the restaurant. The breeze of the late night city was always calming to you, “Can we go for a stroll around the city, i always find this time pleasing.” Zhongli said exactly what you were thinking. “ Of course, Zhongli” you responded to him, getting closer to him and walking close beside him. You both walked together seeing how the bright lights lit the city up. Walking pass the stores, they were all packing their stuff and going to close their shops. While walking you noticed that Zhongli’s hands weren’t behind his back now, you decided to slip your hand into his, closing your fingers around his, still looking straight into the city as he turned to you and looked at your intertwined hands. You both walked down into the city making yourselves back into Yujing Terrace, being surrounded by the tall sides of mountains and trees, walking further into the empty space and the wide field that was usually left there for city events. But right now it was just black empty. You both walked into the center of it, still in each others hands, you felt the slight squeeze from Zhongli’s hand as you turned to look at him as he looked up into the sky filled with stars, you looked up as well your eyes latching onto the stars around you, the moon shining brightly on you two, “Thank you, [y/n].” Zhongli said to you looking at you with eyes filled with love and adore. You looked back at him with the same expression “Thank you.” You said back, not bothering a “You’re welcome “ but you were both thankful for this moment, being with each other and the city around you. Let the sky be filled with stars for the night, with Mr.Zhongli.

————————————————

I was listening to Only by lee hi while writing the ending and oh my god it made me so soft inside help.

I feel like this is rlly bad since i only write horny characters fucking a reader BUT thank you for this request!!! It was a really cute idea!!!

[wrenreid]

Conflict of Interest

18+ content warning for this story. previous chapters are in masterlist:)

i’m so sorry i haven’t uploaded in forever!! also this chapter is basically just a filler:/

Chapter Sixteen: Worries and Flights

After successfully getting a heavy ass dummy over a wall, sprinting through an obstacle course, and muscle training, you lay down on the ground, breathing heavy. You were the third one to get the dummy over the wall, which is quite impressive if you do say so yourself. You pour your water bottle over your face, letting the cool liquid soothe your sweaty, red face.

Nina offers you a hand to help you up. Her brown skin is red now as well from the exercise. “Let’s go shower. I probably smell like sweaty shit.”

“Can shit sweat?” You ask as you take their hand and stand up.

“Even out of breath and tired, you must be sarcastic,” Nina rolls her eyes with a soft laugh.

“Wittiness is a character trait I hold to upmost value.”

“Ha ha.”

The two of you head up to the showers, washing the sweat and dirt from your hair and bodies.

Once you’re dressed in the blue FBI Academy and black slacks, you and Nina head to classes. It’s been a little hard for you to pay attention lately. The weight of keeping the secret of you and Spencer has been gnawing on your stomach since Nina almost caught you guys together. You’ve never kept such a big thing from the people you love before, but you keep reminding yourself that sex isn’t that big of a deal… but your thoughts are quickly shut down by the fact that having sex with your professor is indeed a big deal.

Worrying about graduating the Academy is also stressing you out. What happens if you don’t get into the Bureau and you’re left jobless? What happens if something occurs that keeps you from becoming an agent? It’s unlikely, you know, because of your grades and impressive actions with training, but it still is a worry of yours.

“Are you okay?” Nina whispers, leaning closer to you as Mr. Walton teaches.

“What? Yeah, yeah I’m good. Just tired from this morning.”

She nods and looks back to the front of the class.

Soon enough, it’s time to go to Dr. Reid’s classroom. You’ve extra careful about not stealing any glances across the room or staying too long after class since that day he had to hide in your closet. You can’t risk it.

You’re not even sure what Nina would do if she found out. Judge you? Tell someone? Probably not the latter, but people can slip up by accident.

All you know is, you’re ready for winter break to get here as quickly as possible. Two weeks can not pass by soon enough.

In two weeks you’ll be back with your dad and brothers for a little while, getting to step away from the chaos that is training, school, and the illicit affairs between you and Dr. Reid.

“Hey, are you alright?” Spencer asks, hand lightly touching your elbow after class.

“Yeah. I’m good,” you nod.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not,” you chuckle a bit nervously. “I’m just tired.”

“I heard you did amazing this morning,” he flashes his sweet smile, and for a moment, all your anxieties are gone.

“I did pretty well, yeah,” you grin softly.

“It’s been a while since we’ve done anything together. Would you like to come over sometime this week?”

“I- um- if I can, sure.”

Spencer furrows his eyebrows a little at your statement. “Have I done something wrong?”

“No! No, of course not. I’m just stressed out.”

“Would you like to talk about it?”

You give him a slight shrug. “Finals are next week, I’m going back home for the break, and… and I’m just starting to worry that people will find out about what we’re doing.” You gesture a finger from yourself to him.

Spencer nods. “First of all, you’ll do great on the finals, just like you did the midterms. Secondly, I thought you said you were excited to go home?”

“I am. I am. Just sometimes things can get to be a bit much,” you say.

“I understand. And by the way, I’m still keeping my promise that I won’t tell anyone. No one is going to find out about ‘what we’re doing’.”

His words draw a nod from you. You let out a soft breath. “Sorry, you’re right. I’m just in my head about things.”

“Hey, no need to apologize. You can come to me with anything,” Spencer’s words are gentle, his soft brown eyes on you. His hand cups your cheek gently and he plants a kiss to your lips softly. The two of you barely do this, the gentle kissing. It’s intimate and not in a sexy way.

You smile softly and say, “I should get going.”

“I’ll see you soon,” he says, giving you a little awkward wave.

The two weeks move past you not too slow, but not as quickly as you would’ve liked them to. Spencer and you hang out twice before the last day of training and classes, having sex one of those times and the other you watched a movie and fell asleep on his shoulder from finals week exhaustion.

Nina is to be flying back home for the break as well. The two of you have dinner together the day before you leave to say bye and gossip a bit about your families.

Your bags are packed, and you’re ready to head to the airport. After arriving, then waiting two hours, your flight to California is finally announced to be boarded.

‘I’m on the plane now. Thank you for checking up on me,’ you reply to Spencer’s earlier message.

‘Text me when you land safely. Have fun at home.’

‘Will do and will try,’ you send to him before turning your phone on airplane mode and pressing play on your playlist. You watch the ground grow farther and farther away from you from the window as your music plays in your ear.

chapter seventeen

tags: @reidsmilf @reidslovely @awhoreforspencerreid @sexualityisajoke @nomajdetective @kenreadsfanfics @assemblemotherfuckers @calicocatty @reidscake @hotchandspencearedilfs @kodiakwhiskey @rory-cakes @kbakery @reidsprettygirl <3

[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.” 

[yikestripes]

Good Morning, Sunshine

i was feeling something a little extra domestic and fluffy tonight so i whipped this up :)

word count: 1.7k

warnings: none; s o much fluff

“Hello?” You were barely audible, considering your phone ringing had not only woken you up, but the vibrating on the nightstand scared the living hell out of you.

“Hey babe, we just finished up the case. We’re boarding the jet now; I should be at your apartment in about 3 or so hours.” Spencer said, sounding exhausted himself.

“I’ll be waiting. You sound like you haven’t slept, please try to get some rest on the jet.”

“You don’t have to wait up, it’s gonna be like, 4:30 am D.C time.”

“Promise me you’ll sleep at least a little bit.”

“I’ll make sure he knocks out.” You heard Derek say on the other end.

“Thanks Derek. I love you, Spence. Have a safe flight.”

“I don’t really have control over that, but I love you too. See you tomorrow.” You shook your head with a small laugh; either Spencer really was delirious, or he didn’t know you at all. You always waited up for him when you knew he was coming home. It’s not like you’d be able to sleep anyway, you’d be awake worrying until you heard him come through the door and then make all the noise possible changing his clothes and slipping into bed. Sometimes you wondered if he even realized how loud he could be.

You put your phone back on the nightstand and climbed out of bed, pulling one of Spencer’s hoodies over your head as you made your way to the kitchen. You hummed to yourself as you looked around, wondering how you were going to entertain yourself for the next few hours while you waited. You looked to your bookshelf, but remembered that reading always made you tired. You looked at the TV and remembered that all the shows you were currently watching, you were watching with Spencer, and you both actively tried not to watch without the other. That left one option; baking.

You pulled the ingredients together quickly, already having a plan in place. You were going to make Spencer’s favorite treat; your lemon poppy seed muffins that you made every once in a while, which is what made them so special. Spencer fell in love with those before he had fallen in love with you, whenever you brought them to his office to surprise him when you two first started hanging out. He constantly joked that those were the reason you two were still together, to which you would smack his arm and he would give you that sweet little smile that only Spencer Reid could muster.

You grabbed your speaker from your bedroom and blasted some classic rock as you worked the ingredients together. By the time they were in the oven, an hour had already passed and Spencer would be there within another 2 hours. You looked to your cat, Peanut Butter, who had lazily strolled into the kitchen and just looked at you.

“What?” You asked him as he stared at you. He meowed quietly in response, and rubbed against your bare legs. You picked him up and scratched his little head, earning a soft purr in response. “I’ll go back to bed soon, PB. I’m waiting for Spence,” You said. You frowned to yourself and put him back on the ground, where he proceeded to swish his tail at you as he walked away.

“I’ve taken to talking to my cat. I’ve really lost it now. Oh great, now I’m talking to myself in my empty apartment while I bake at 2:30 in the morning. This is normal.” You said to yourself.

You shook your head once again and went to go watch a movie while the muffins finished. You decided to watch one of your old favorites, Jaws. Every time you watched it together (which was often, considering it was one of your favorite movies), Spencer would always critique the likelihood of a killer shark ever coming that close to the beach and killing that many people. You would argue back that it could have gotten a taste for humans, because sharks weren’t the brightest creatures, and he would argue that the only time in history a shark that we knew of existed at that size was the megalodon, which went extinct some time ago. Eventually you would stop responding, Spencer would wrap his arm around you to pull you closer, and you would just enjoy the movie.

The oven beeped about halfway through the movie, about 30 minutes before Spencer was supposed to come home. You grinned to yourself as you set them aside to cool, and started up the coffee maker. You pulled down Spencer’s favorite Doctor Who mug from the cabinet, set it beside your mug and the coffee machine, and went to grab his favorite pajamas from the bedroom. You knew Spencer was utterly capable of taking care of it himself, but you setting everything out for him was one of the things he loved most about you, it just showed him how much you cared time and time again.

You were in the last 10 minutes of the movie when you heard the floor creaking outside of the door, and your heart leapt into your throat. You could hear Spencer outside of the door fumbling with his keys, a sure sign that he was tired and probably had just woken up. You smiled at the fact that he had taken your advice, or Derek forced him to.

“Hey babe.” You turned the TV off and ran over to him, pulling him into a tight hug.

“Hi stranger.” You pulled away after a solid minute and ran your thumb across his cheek, taking in the circles under his eyes. “Oh baby, please tell me you slept.” Spencer smiled.

“Actually, yes. Emily actually had to wake me up this time, I slept through takeoff and landing.” He grinned.

“I laid your pajamas out on the bed for you, they’re your favorites.” Spencer placed a chaste kiss on your lips as he headed to your room. Although you hadn’t officially moved in together, Spencer basically lived at your apartment. It wasn’t out of lack of commitment or really anything else, it was somewhere between sheer laziness and not really asking the question. You both had keys to each other's apartments and could come and go as you pleased, not to mention Peanut Butter adored Spencer, but it had never really passed through your thoughts to ask him to move in.

You brewed some coffee for you both and made his just how he liked it, ridiculous amounts of sugar. It was amazing he functioned throughout the day without getting any sort of sugar crash. He emerged from your room a few minutes later, pajama clad and his hair sticking up at funny angles from the sweatshirt he put on.

“Coffee too? What did I do to deserve you,” He kissed you again, taking the mug from you.

“That’s not all,” You grinned and stepped aside, revealing the muffin tray on the counter.

“Oh my God, muffins!” He ditched his coffee mug and grabbed one, shoving half of it in his mouth. “Ohh my God, the lemon poppyseed ones!” He said through a mouthful of muffin.

“Ew, Spence, that’s disgusting!” You laughed.

“Sorry,” He grinned through his muffin-filled mouth. You shook your head as you sipped your coffee.

You looked out at the balcony as the sky began to lighten. You went over and pulled the door open, plopping yourself on one of the fluffy couches. Spencer grabbed his coffee and followed you, shutting the door just after Peanut Butter sauntered out. You patted your lap and he jumped up, purring. Spencer pet him gently, sitting snugly beside you. You leaned against him and took a deep breath, closing your eyes. You opened them to see Spencer staring down at you, a goofy smile forming on his face.

“What, Muffin Boy?” You laughed, wiping away a crumb from his cheek.

“Just looking at you, you look so beautiful in this light.” You blushed. Despite being together for just around 2 years, he still knew how to give you butterflies.

“I love you.” He kissed your head and looked out at the rising sun.

“I love you too.” You sat in silence for a little while, just watching as the sun lazily grew over the D.C horizon.

“Want to move in?” You broke the silence. Spence looked down at you with his eyebrows raised.

“Haven’t I basically done that already?” He asked.

“I mean yeah, but you’re still paying rent for your old place.”

“I would say I forgot, but I have an eidetic memory.” You giggled and Spencer grinned, happy to have made you laugh.

“So, what do you say?”

“Statistically couples who move in together have a higher chance of a successful marriage, whereas couples who get married and then move in together have a much higher divorce rate dependent on the age of the couple. So yes, I will move in.” Much to Peanut Butter’s chagrin, you sat up and turned around, locking Spencer in a passionate kiss. Before things could get too heated, Peanut Butter got jealous and swatted at your cheek. You and Spencer broke apart and looked at the small black cat, who just tilted his head.

“You are such a little asshole sometimes.” You said, staring him down. He stared back before turning around, sassily swishing his tail in your face before pausing at the door, and looking at you. Your jaw dropped at the attitude and Spencer let him inside, turning his attention back to you.

“I forgot, he’s so possessive over me.” Spencer grinned, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Shut up.” You grabbed your mug and headed inside, shutting the door behind you and leaving Spencer laughing on the porch.

You left your empty mug in the sink and climbed into bed, Peanut Butter and Spencer joining you moments later. Spencer put the cat down on the bed and climbed into bed beside you, pulling you closer as Peanut Butter settled in the middle. Spencer placed a chaste kiss on your forehead and fell asleep with a smile on his face. Nothing more than a calm, domestic life with you was anything he ever wanted.

[jishyucks]

Dollarstore Mistletoe ‣ ljn

‣ genre: fluff, friends-to-lovers, female reader

‣ wc: 2.7k

‣ summary: Jeno looked up at the mistletoe then at you, cheeks heating up from the situation. So that’s why Hyuck had mistletoe. 

this was going to be a short blurb but sike... enjoy!

-

You sat at the corner of the room, eyes drawn nervously at Donghyuck who was holding a tied up bunch of mistletoe in his hand. Though he was tossing it to himself, you could already read his mind from across the room. He had a sly smirk on his face as he glanced between you and Jeno who chose to sit between Jisung and Chenle.

Donghyuck, I fucking swear. You texted him, eyes growing wide in a subtle warning once he looked back up at you. 

He laughed out loud before texting you back, I’m not doing anything.

Not rn but ur going to.

He loved going over to your place just to tease you about your (apparent) undying love for Jeno, constantly pushing you to make a move because Jeno was a ‘giant wuss’ and ‘would not grow balls to do so himself’ while you ‘had potential’. And honestly, you weren’t sure what to believe when it came to Donghyuck. He was a trickster. Who knew if he was lying this time or not. 

You could easily recall maybe a week back when you were hanging out with this pest of a boy. He had been spontaneously mustering up a plan to get you and Jeno to kiss underneath some fake mistletoe he could find at the dollar store, which could then lead to confessing. 

“Please don’t. We’re not living in some rom-com, Hyuck,” you glared at him, hoping that his ridiculous plan would be thrown out the window, “It’s not going to happen.” There was not a single bone in your body confident enough to kiss the boy you’ve held the longest crush on. Donghyuck was wrong when he said you had potential, meaning he could be wrong when it came to this plan he barely put effort into arranging.

“I know,” he replied simply, “But shit like this is inevitable.  Plus you’re forgetting that I have the brain of a mastermind.” You ignored the way he wiggled his eyebrows in an attempt to persuade you, obviously failing. He knew he had to do everything himself, whether you liked it or not. Besides, he knew things you didn’t. He knew these plans were going to work. 

So now, here he sat at Jeno’s house, waiting for the perfect time to dangle the plant above you both. He already knows you had the capability to run if you saw him move even an inch towards you. You were probably as alert as those animals being preyed on on National Geographic, ears perked and everything. Your fight or flight response was already activated just because of him. 

As for Jeno, he was probably the complete opposite of you. He was leaning back on the couch with a delicate looking smile sitting on his face. Donghyuck was glad that he didn’t have a single clue about what was going on. But also... did he ever know what was going on?

A Christmas movie was playing on the TV even though barely anyone was paying any attention to it. Jaemin and Renjun were in the kitchen baking gingerbread cookies, following a recipe they found tiktok, while Jisung and Chenle were playing the nth game of PubG on their phones. Mark and Jeno were probably the only ones paying attention to the film, occasionally letting out a snort or giggle at a cheesy joke being delivered. Then there was you and Donghyuck, the only two aware of the plan that you didn’t even want to take part in. 

“Why are you holding weed?” Jisung finally lifts his head from his phone’s screen, brows furrowed at the mistletoe in Donghyuck’s hands. He pointed slightly towards them, arm falling to his side soon after. 

The older boy gave Jisung an unreadable look, “It’s not weed. It’s mistletoe.” Again, he tossed it up, barely grazing the popcorn ceiling before catching it. 

“Ohh~ like that Justin Bieber song!” Jisung pointed out. His attention was soon directed back to his phone, probably beginning another game alongside Chenle. Jeno glanced at the younger boy and just shook his head in adoration and slight genuine confusion. It seemed like he literally had no idea, no clue, why Donghyuck was holding mistletoe. This, again, was good news to Donghyuck. 

“Cookies!” Jaemin barged into the living room dressed in a holiday apron and oven mitts. He had flour sprinkled along his chest and collar bone, probably thrown on there by Renjun, who followed closely behind him. 

Like young kids, attention spans were cut off and brought towards the gingerbread cookies, its aroma soon flooding the room. Through the pride that Jaemin gave off while standing there, you already knew the cookies were good. Especially with the help of Renjun.

Ditching your tense position, you had completely forgotten of your silent duel with Donghyuck, hopping up from the couch and skipping over to Jaemin. The others followed you shortly, Jeno being the second there. 

Donghyuck pushed himself off the couch last, still playing with the mistletoe between his fingertips. Once spotting you standing directly next to Jeno, he stopped himself from audibly gasping and darted towards you both, holding up his arm above the space between the two of you, “Ah! Mistletoe~” 

Your heart dropped, hand physically letting go of the cookie. It plopped back onto the tray as you spun around to face Donghyuck and then to an equally thrown off Jeno. You wanted to beat yourself up for letting your guard down for cookies. 

Jeno looked up at the mistletoe then at you, cheeks heating up from the situation. So that’s why Hyuck had mistletoe. The math was mathing. 

Jeno took in what was happening. Even if it was so sudden, Jeno didn’t feel like resisting. Instead he stood there and tried to read the non-verbal cues you were showing, trying to figure out whether or not you would want to carry out this unexplained tradition. Your face seemed to express no emotion, though he figured you were deep in thought, trying to process what was happening. And that was exactly what you were doing.

“I told you not to,” you mumbled towards Donghyuck’s direction. The looks you were sending Donghyuck could be used as weapons in some other dimension, but in this one the most you could do was intimidate the boy. In a brief state of panic, assuming Jeno found this situation weird, you tried to leave the situation, avoiding Jeno’s gaze as you did.

“It’s tradition!” Donghyuck attempted to pull you back. He was trying to be Christmas Cupid, knowing that feelings were being exchanged without the other’s knowledge. He thought he’d be helping.

Jeno shook his head, “N-no, Hyuck, it’s fine… if Y/N doesn’t want to do it, we can’t force her.” He felt himself gulp, mostly from the subtle rejection he’d received, before quickly reaching for a cookie and fleeing the scene. 

Donghyuck turns to you, arm dropping to his side and mouth wide open, “He was going to kiss you!” 

For a second, you doubted Donghyuck, shaking your head. But then at the realization that Jeno had left the room in a rather disappointed state, you probably were wrong and for once, Donghyuck was right. But there was no way you were admitting that in his presence. 

It would’ve been completely silent if it wasn’t for the movie playing in the background. Everyone was still trying to process what had just happened, while you were still staring Donghyuck down. 

“Are you blaming me?” You gestured to yourself. Sure it could have actually been your fault but that really wasn’t good for your degrading self-esteem right now. 

“Yes,” Donghyuck threw the fake mistletoe onto the three seater couch, “It looked like you didn’t want to kiss the boy. You basically stomped on his heart.” Sure Donghyuck was over exaggerating but knowing how much Jeno liked you, you probably did. 

“No I didn’t,” you try to deny everything, not wanting your hopes to be crushed by false information and beliefs. 

“You did,” Mark butted in, “He looked like a kicked puppy.” You shifted your gaze from Donghyuck to Mark, someone who you could trust a bit more, and felt your frown deepen. Feeling yourself stumble back in the slightest bit, you glance at the stairs where Jeno had gone, probably to his room. Should you talk to him? 

“Just go talk to him,” Jaemin pushed on, as if he could read what you were thinking, “But take an extra cookie with you.” He held the tray of baked goods in front of you and you complied, slithering past Mark, Renjun, and Chenle before going up the stairs. 

You had no idea what you were going to tell Jeno. That you wanted to kiss him? That would come off as weird. 

The pair of cookies in your hands could be your conversation starter.

Upon reaching his door, you raise a fist to knock. 

If it was possible, Jeno would slap himself so many times just so he could knock some sense into himself. He was sitting at the edge of his bed with his palm to his forehead, feeling like an entire circus. Why the hell didn’t he even act like he was weirded out by Donghyuck and that fucking mistletoe? Why did he act like he was waiting for a long time for that opportunity to kiss you? 

Maybe because he was. But he should’ve at least pretended like he wasn’t.

Jeno threw himself back into his bed, blinking at the ceiling while he mentally attacked himself for being so foolish. How would he recover from this? He shouldn’t have ran out of the room like that. It made him so obvious. It gave away the feelings he hoped he had been hiding well the entire time. 

Jeno you’re so fucking stupid, he thought, teeth gritting. 

He clenched his fist and started to hit the middle of his forehead lightly with his knuckles, startled when he heard a loud knocking sound. 

Was that my forehead or was that the door?

Sitting up, he pivoted his head so that he was facing the door, brows furrowed as he waited for another indication that the sound was (hopefully) the door and not his skull. 

“Jeno, it’s me.” Your voice was muffled and your shadow could be seen through the bottom. 

For a second, Jeno hesitated, unsure if he was ready to face you at that moment, but he soon decided against it, standing up and towards his bedroom door in order to let you in. Opening it just a crack, he peeked out, seeing your shorter figure staring up at him, eyes slightly unreadable, “I brought cookies.”

Jeno couldn’t help but feel his chest warm up at the sight of you. He held back a smile to keep himself grounded. Pulling the door to create a wider opening, he let you in.

“Are you okay?” You knew he wasn’t okay. Just by the look in Jeno’s eyes, you could tell he had a lot going on in his head. You didn’t want to start the conversation off with ‘I actually wanted to kiss you too’ because in all honesty, anyone faced with that statement would be scared in one way or another, regardless of their feelings for the other. 

“I guess you can say that,” Jeno hummed and sat at the foot of his bed. You handed him one of the cookies and bit into the second one you brought. Jeno couldn’t even make eye contact with you. He was a smidge too embarrassed to do so. 

You sat next to him, the heat of your bodies bouncing off of each other from how close you were, “What do you mean?” You were drawing the conversation out while you still tried to run through what you were gonna say as your version of a confession. 

He shrugged, taking a small bite, almost a nibble, from the cookie, “I know you’re not stupid, Y/N… Donghyuck was painfully obvious and so was I.” Feeling his heart pick up its pace scared him. This only meant he could either lose total control of his words, or just not speak at all. He focused on keeping them tame, “I’m sorry you had to witness that. Just forget it happened, okay? Sometimes, Donghyuck doesn’t know he’s going overboard.” 

Jeno spoke softly, head dipping down and bangs falling over his eyes. The glasses he wore slipped down his nose as he did, but he quickly caught them with the tip of his index finger. 

“Donghyuck doesn’t normally pull shit like that unless he has to,” you say as a reply, “He somehow always knows things we don’t.” You hoped Jeno got the hint from what you were saying, but by the way he kept his attention at the cooling gingerbread cookie in his hand as he nodded, you knew that he was completely clueless. Were you being too subtle?

“Do you know why he decided to buy that plastic plant in the first place?” You took a bite from Jaemin’s cookie and swung your legs. 

Jeno shrugged again, “Because he’s Donghyuck?”

 You both let out brief chuckles but you regained your composure and sighed. From downstairs, you hear the others laughing at something, some background noise from the near silence in the room.

“Because he knows how I feel.” 

Jeno’s ears perked up at this statement, still afraid to look at you. He shifted in place, “How you feel?”

You rolled your eyes at Jeno, hitting him playfully, “Lee Jeno!” Yeah, you did want to drag the conversation in the first place, but it was getting too long. You wanted to get to the point and Jeno wasn’t taking any of the hints you were throwing. 

“What?” He whined, acting as if you hit him hard when everyone knows he’s got the muscle to resist that pain. This familiar feeling between the two of you, the wave of comfort he felt, caused him to turn towards you. Once he realized what he had done, he turned away quickly, feeling himself grow timid once again. 

“I know you’re not that stupid either, Jeno. Can you please look at me?” To no surprise he doesn’t listen. He was getting all flustered. The shy, blushy type of flustered. 

Lifting your hand up to his face, you grabbed it softly and turned it so that he was facing you. He complied, letting you turn his head, only, his eyes were shut tightly. 

You huffed, “Jeno! Please open your eyes.” He shook his head while his face was still being held with your hand, “Please?” 

Again, he refused, this giving you permission to attempt to pry his eyelids with your own fingers. Though you gave up quite quickly. You didn't want to force them open as any sort of mishap was bound to happen. 

“Last chance to open your eyes,” you warned, only he didn’t know what you were warning him about. He still kept them closed, feeling comfortable in this position he was in now, “Fine, Jeno, if you don’t open your eyes, then I will…”

“You will what?” He smirked. Though you couldn’t see his eyes, you could see his emotion through his raised brow. Deep down he knew what you were about to do. But he wanted to sit back and wait for it to happen. 

Without thinking, you leaned in and brought his lips down to yours. At first there wasn’t any response from Jeno, but once he had finally processed what was going on, his eyes shot open, and as if it was some sort of instinct, he kissed back. 

You liked this feeling. Maybe you would’ve felt it sooner if you hadn’t refused to kiss him earlier. But also you liked it how it was right now, and Jeno felt the same. Private, without any of the others watching. And it wasn’t because you had to follow a tradition, it was because you both wanted to do it.

After a few more long seconds, you both pulled away, beaming shyly at each other. You finally let go of his face and sat yourself back. 

“What was…?” Jeno was at a loss of words. 

You laughed softly, almost coming out as a giggle, “That’s how I feel.” 

Maybe Donghyuck was right when said you had that sort of potential. 

[whats-rambled-rambled]

Long Nights - part 7

Neil x Reader

Chapter 7: Wicked game

(see chapter 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1)

summary: it’s time to come back to life, and sometimes it involves Neil dragging you to a social event

warnings: 18+, language, alcohol mention (beer is considered alcohol, right?)

author’s note: 3k words. It’s not exactly what I had in mind for that chapter, but they have a mind of their own, as always. 

Almost there.

The song for this part is Stone Sour - Wicked Game (acoustic, live)

Enjoy and let me know what you think, please? All feedback is greatly appreciated.

——————

Tag list: @cxnnienikas​ @neutron-stars-collision​ @ergunbilge​ @invertedneil​ @wanderedaway​ @i-wanna-b-yours​ @wonderwoman292​ @buckysgoldenheart​ @townmoondaltwistle @theriverbeneaththeriver​ (please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list)

-----

It didn’t matter how many times you saw him do that, the effect the sight had on you was pretty much always the same. Filling your mind with thoughts that were quite counterproductive, one could say.

The veiny patterns covering hands and forearms. The long fingers running through the buttons. The tilted chin, extending the neck, drawing attention to that impossible jawline. The slight pout. The brows drawn together in concentration--

You smacked your tongue and shook your head

“Y’know what, those shirts of yours are so rude, but the way you wear them, the rolled-up sleeves?”

Neil looked at you through the reflection in the mirror, puzzled. “What about them?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely disrespectful,” you sighed heavily and leaned against the door frame.

Playful lights danced in the blue eyes. “Oh yeah?” he teased, giving himself a final glance-over before turning to you. “And what you’re gonna do about it?”

“Nothing,” - you shrugged, crossing your arms - “because you insist on dragging me to a social event.”

The faint resentment ringing in your last words didn’t get lost on Neil.

“So boring of me,” he said as he closed the gap between you, trying to keep a straight face. He put his hands on your waist and smirked. “But maybe after that we can come back here and continue the conversation.”

As you fixed his collar, a shade of smile hid in the corner of your mouth.

“Really wanna listen to me listing all the things that drive me mad about you, huh?” you asked smugly, gliding your fingertips along the delicate stripes of the greyish beige shirt.

Neil’s thumbs brushed over your hip bones as he hummed, “I have a feeling it might lead to a rather pleasant conclusion.”

When you let out an amused scoff, his lips captured the snarky comment that was bound to follow. He pulled you closer and lifted you up, and the next second you were sitting on the edge of a vanity cabinet, breathless from the kiss, tugging at the striped shirt.

A buzz right next to you.

You jumped, startled, and glared at the phone. “Is it too late to tell Matthias the Uber driver that we’re not going anywhere?” you asked without too much hope as you nuzzled your face to Neil’s neck, breathing in his scent, unwilling to let this moment end too quickly.

Neil chuckled and stroked your arms. “Come on, it’s gonna be fun.”

You still didn’t know where he was taking you - he’d assured you that it would be casual, and that was basically all you cared about. He knew you enough, and you trusted his judgement, after all.

“It better be,” you pouted, pulling back, but as soon as you met the bright blue eyes your heart sang in your chest. After spending all that time in the darkness, not sure if you’d ever see his face again, you caught yourself taking an extra second every now and then, just looking at him. How the light played on his features, now soft in the elaborately illuminated hotel bathroom. How his lips curled whenever he found your gaze. How utterly stunning he was.

Smiling gently, you ran your fingers through Neil’s disheveled mane, taming the blonde mess if ever so slightly.

“Let’s not keep Matthias waiting, then,” you sighed and slid off the cabinet.

-------

The afternoon was quite warm for late autumn. As you were arriving at your destination, you watched the sun shining through the scarce leaves left on the trees, adding vibrance to their colours. Too mesmerized to pay attention to the route, you recognized the place only when the car stopped. The training site. You turned to Neil in confusion, but he just wiggled his brows and proceeded to thank the driver and got out of the car. You followed him out and right through the gate of the now-empty paintball outdoor facility which served as a front for the agency’s base, hidden a bit further inside the forest.

“Picking up something on the way?” you asked, matching his pace as you strolled towards the training grounds.

Neil shook his head and smiled mysteriously. “Not really.”

“Alrighty then, keep your secrets,” you snorted, rolling your eyes. “Aren’t we a tad overdressed for a little playground fun, though?”

“A rematch?” he pondered and smirked. “Didn’t plan on that, but it’s tempting.”

Indeed. “I’m kinda out of shape, but keep those baggy trousers on and I’m game - wanna beat you fair and square again.”

Neil let out an exasperated huff. “Baggy?! They might be a bit loose but --”

You giggled at his offended expression as he got busy looking down at the target of your remark, ready to defend his fashion choice. Your laughter was enough to stop Neil in his tracks, and when he met your playful gaze, he reached out and drew you into his arms for a tight hug. After a brief moment of perplexity, you eased into his embrace, moved by the force of sudden affection.

When he pulled back, you touched his cheek. “What was that for?” you asked, searching the blue eyes, but finding nothing but joy there.

“Being cheeky.” He scrunched his nose while tapping the tip of yours. “And brilliant,” he added, and for a second you were sure there was something else he wanted to say; instead, he laid a gentle kiss on your lips. “And maybe stalling a minute longer before I’d have to share you with all these people.”

You gaped at him, about to ask what people, but Neil already grabbed your hand and led you around the corner of the building - and you heard them even before you spotted them.

“Oi, there they are!”

“Finally!”

“We’ve just considered sending a rescue party in case you got lost in the woods!”

The unexpected eruption of cheers and greetings made your fight-or-flight reflexes kick in, but as you instinctively took a step back, Neil squeezed your fingers reassuringly.  

A split-second exchange of looks.

All right?

When he saw your tiny nod, he let go of your hand, focusing on the team gathered at the makeshift chillout zone. “Not everyone has your poor sense of directions, Seb,” retorted Neil, flashing his teeth in a grin.

The young man’s protests got drowned in laughter as you approached the group together.

"Luckily not the case with our rogue here,” said Ives, elbowing his way in between other people. He shot you both a disapproving look, toned down by a smile dangling in the corner of his mouth. "Really, roofs? Didn't know you had it in you, mate."

"Me neither,” admitted Neil, going in for a clasp of hands and a brief hug. “When I saw that gap, I was sure that was it. Someone convinced me otherwise."

“The secret is to avoid looking down,” you shrugged, meeting the commander's amused gaze.

"Thanks for bringing our favourite nerd back in one piece." As Ives extended his hand, there was something serious about his expression, mixed with a sense of relief, and you realised he must have been in the response team Neil had called for help.

“My pleasure.” Beaming, you shook his hand. “Thanks for providing backup.” And scraping me off the pavement.

Neil’s gasp was almost theatrical. He smirked and nudged Ives lightly. “Aw, I’m your favourite?”

“Careful, that privilege may be revoked any minute,” grunted Ives in a weak attempt at keeping up appearances, but he couldn’t fool anyone. Now that you had a chance to observe them in the after-hours situation, the bond between the two men was clear as day, and your heart warmed up at the thought.

Waving back at Mahir, you scanned the group for other familiar faces. Wheeler, a couple of people you recognized from the HQ halls, and a bit isolated from the others - the big man himself, manning the barbecue station.

Overwhelmed by the attention you got from the team, you excused yourself and walked up to The Protagonist. You couldn’t help but smile at the confident vibe he radiated with as if he spent every weekend doing nothing but this.

“So dad of you, boss.”

He flopped a sizzling piece of meat to the other side, glancing at you humorlessly.

“How are you feeling?” he asked with polite concern.

“Grand, healed up nicely, thank you.” You circled your shoulder and grinned. “Not in a marathon condition, mind you, but that’s not exactly new.”

“That’s good, Neil was worried about you.”

Not sure if it was the lack of eye contact or something else in his presence, but you decided to stop ignoring the gut feeling.

“You don’t like me,” you said, tilting your head. A mere statement of the fact; you weren’t hurt, only curious. “It’s okay, you don’t have to, just been wondering why.”

TP sighed heavily. And when he finally met your gaze, the dark eyes were sad, only deepening your confusion.

“I’m sorry.” Then something cracked and a shiver ran down your spine, because suddenly, in front of you there was a man who’d seen a lot, suffered too much, and cared even more. The weight of it all slumped his shoulders, and for a short while, he seemed almost helpless. Taking a quick look at the hollering group, he sighed again. “It’s not your fault, it’s--“ he hesitated, searching for the right words. As he found them, there was no sign of the vulnerability from a moment earlier. “It’s a stressful business.” He sent you a crooked smile. “And I’m still mad about that watch.”

The lie was obvious. But the things you saw in his eyes made your chest clench painfully, and…did you really want to know?

Besides, that might have been a truce offering, and you weren’t bent on holding a grudge. Not with him, anyway.

“Hey, wasn’t it technically your idea?” you grinned, shrugging off the weird sense of dread.

A smile finally reached the dark irises. “I guess it was,” he admitted and patted you on the arm. “There’s some beer in the mini-fridge, could you --”

“On it.”

When the clank of bottles sealed your peace treaty, you caught Neil’s happy stare. You pointed at the beer in your hand in a question and he nodded, so you grabbed one more and joined him and the others.

That unfortunate mission must have been some sort of rite of passage in these guys’ eyes because out of the blue, you were no longer an outsider. The Cavalry accepted you with open arms as one of their own, and you couldn’t wrap your head around it. It was a nice feeling, though. Like you belonged. You saw some curious glances, but they came from a good place, and even the suspicious voice in your mind gave in under the cordial, jovial energy of the group.

Soon enough, you were joking with a young medic, having a balancing stand-off with Wheeler, or listening to crazy stories from some old operations, until everyone had enough booze in their systems that allowed them to direct some of the questions to you, as well.

“So is Neil a decent locksmith now?”

You puffed out your cheeks in a musing grimace, but when you spotted Neil’s raised brow, you started laughing. “I’d say even more than decent. Honestly? I don’t think there’s much more that I can teach him, he needs to polish his skills in real life now.” Mocking a teary sniff, you added, “They grow up so fast!”

Nobody would know that you did so while actively ignoring a faint sting in your heart.

You refrained from meeting the attentive blue eyes, though. Just in case.

“Oh cool, then what about a little contest?” Seb clapped his hands cheerfully. “You versus Neil, we could time you, and to make it fairer we could put a blindfold on you --” as he stopped for a breath, he realized - with some help from Wheeler’s elbow to his side - the slight faux pas.

But you barely acknowledge a curse and a mumbled apology cutting through the awkward silence, too busy exchanging amused looks and stifled giggles with your student.

“Neil, would you like to explain?” you asked, schooling your features.

He bowed his head as if he was accepting a great honor. “Gladly.” Neil took a deep breath and his eyes lit up. “See, my dear friend, had you known anything about lockpicking, you’d learnt that sometimes it’s easier to do that with, for example, your eyes closed. You need to listen to what the lock has to say because it’s all about feedback--”

You watched as Neil gave a full lecture, citing your own words from what seemed to be a lifetime ago. He did it with passion and understanding of the craft you’d never dreamed to see in someone else, and yet was so familiar when it came to him. Absentmindedly, you placed a hand over your chest, as if it was enough to stop it from bursting.

You couldn’t be more proud.

Neil finished his rant and looked at you, only to be met with all the appreciation and validation in your gaze, and he beamed even wider.

“All right, damn, we can cover Neil’s eyes then,” sighed Seb, a total resignation in his voice sparking a roar of laughter from the group.

----

As much as you enjoyed the energy of the team, your social batteries were getting drained, and you needed a moment for yourself before you could carry on.

Walking right outside of the periphery of light from the garlands, you let your gaze slide across the training equipment, now barely visible in the moonless night. The leaves crumbled under your feet as you smiled at the memories. Maybe one day you would actually complete the full run? You pulled on the sleeves of your sweater, hiding your hands from the cold evening air.

“Mind if I join you?”

You glanced over your shoulder at Neil, keeping his distance, ready to give you space. With him, it was always in the details he’d picked along the way, effortlessly weaving them into everyday life. “Not at all.”

Neil perked up and joined you in the shadows, inhaling deeply.

“Funny how the scent of the forest changes with the seasons,” he mused and you grinned, turning his way.

“That’s what I call a pick-up line,” you snickered and drew a long breath. “But you’re right, it’s too easy to forget that once you become a permanent city creature.”

He chuckled and lightly rubbed his hands up and down your arms.

“Are you warm enough?” he asked softly, fixing your oversized scarf.

“Yeah.” You brushed your cheek against his fingers, longing for his touch, now that you were somewhat hidden from the prying gazes. “You?”

Neil moved closer and wound one arm around your waist, then cupped your face gently, pressed his forehead to yours, and murmured, “Now I am.”

You hummed happily and slid your hands under his open jacket, resting them at his chest, and closed your eyes. Only then realizing how tense you were, you relaxed in his embrace, savoring his closeness. A steady heartbeat under your palms. The warmth carrying undertones of Neil’s cologne. A featherlike graze of his thumb over your cheek. His nose nudging yours.

But soon enough, you had to break a stolen moment. Trying to stifle a yawn, you hid your face in his shoulder to muffle the sound.

“Oh, my poor baby,” he cooed, biting back a giggle. “That tired?”

“I’m fine,” you mumbled against him on the verge of another yawn.

“Sure you are.” He kissed your temple. “The party’s almost over anyway, judging by decreasing amount of idiotic ideas per hour. Gonna call us a cab soon, all right?”

As you nodded, Neil tightened a hug and reluctantly let you go.

“Be right back, I’ll check if there’s any coffee left,” you said, gesturing towards the tables with beverages.

As your luck would have it, there was just enough for one sip.

A sudden sneer was enough to wake you up, though.

“Hell froze over.”

Mahir walked up to the mini-fridge to grab a beer and you met his mocking stare with furrowed brows.

“Vincent must be chattering his teeth now,” you joked, unsure where the conversation was heading. “Why?”

Mahir scoffed at the remark about your old associate, but he was still studying you closely, confusing you further. “Congratulations, by the way.”

“Dude, you’re killing me today,” you sighed, wiping a hand through your face. “Thanks, but what for?”

“You and Neil?”

And when you shot him a puzzled look, he waved his bottle at the place where you stood together a moment before.

Breaking out in a cold sweat, you deadpanned, “Oh.”

Bloody hell.

“I thought you weren’t doing the whole love thing anymore.”

The pulse pounded in your ears, although not loud enough to tune out the sirens blazing in your head.

No.

It came out harder than you felt it. “I’m not.”

No, no, no, no, no.  

Mahir grimaced doubtfully. “Uh-huh.” He looked over your shoulder at the team gathered together in the distance and raised a brow. “Does he know that?”

You couldn’t force yourself to follow his gaze. The panic drained your face of all colour, and that was enough of an answer for your friend.

“I see.” Mahir shook his head, losing the enquiring manner. His features softened as he patted your arm. “Neil’s a good guy.”

Please, no.

“They always are,” you choked out bitterly.

Not again.

“You know what I mean,” insisted Mahir, searching for your eyes.

That the history was not gonna repeat itself?

...or that he didn’t deserve any of it?

“Yeah. Maybe.” You faked a smile. “Excuse me.”

Pushing past him, you went inside the building. You needed to be alone.

Oh, the irony.

Weeks of deliberately avoiding the topic. Tricking yourself into thinking that you can keep it casual. That it didn’t matter that much. That it was nothing but a self-indulgent fling.

You couldn’t breathe.

Lesson learnt, huh?

Barging into one of the restrooms, you got to a sink. Clenching your hands on the cold ceramic, you fought nausea tearing through your body.

Pathetic.

The gasp for air turned into a sob.

...and then everything went quiet.

You raised your eyes to the mirror.

Your reflection was staring back at you with determination.

It was time.

(next chapter ->)

[dakt37]

Avengers Assemble - Feral Outlaw Stony

So I've been expanding on this concept I doodled before Christmas, where Steve goes with Tony into the no-tech dimension at the end of season 3. Probably a lot of stuff isn't canon-compliant (beyond the obvious change that is), but "It's an AU so I do what I want" rules apply. Anyway. 

The tl;dr is: The two of them spend a little time puttering around the weird no-tech dimension, and then get absorbed into Battleworld. They become explorers, helping people out and falling in love along the way.

(Once again, I feel like someone must have had this idea already, but I’ve never looked.)

Cut for excessive rambling.

~~~

Not all the areas we see in the show are present in Battleworld when Steve and Tony first arrive, so the boys spend most of their time traveling around, mapping the place out as it expands. A lot of my ideas rely on them still having little-to-no access to modern conveniences. Obviously someplace modern has to show up for them to get their hands on a pickup truck and a motorcycle, but I’m picturing a post-apocalyptic junkyard that’s been picked clean of anything obviously useful. They get the vehicles working by sheer force of “I’m Tony-fucking-Stark.” But like that fully functional NYC area is way too convenient, so it’s not around yet. (tbh I’m not even sure if it’s an alternate NYC or theirs, in which case it wouldn’t show up until the other Avengers do anyway) 

They get the low-down on the "Battleworld" concept by eavesdropping on one of Beyonder's* welcome speeches. They realize that they are uniquely off the grid, because Beyonder didn't know they were in the no-tech dimension when he added it to Battleworld. They decide it's advantageous to maintain this secret status, but they're still Avengers™️ so they can't NOT help out wherever they can. But they don’t stick around any one place for long. Basically, they become vagrant vigilantes in addition to surveyors. They get a lot of their “stuff” (clothes, tools, toiletries, etc) as payment for odd jobs, or gifts from grateful locals they rescue. They get some food from populated areas as well, but also rely on foraging and hunting while on the lam. They have definitely eaten dinosaur at some point.

(*He doesn't get the nickname "Beyonder" until the other Avengers show up. In this AU Steve and Tony refer to him as "The Entity" or "Suspenders." You can probably guess who tends to use which.)

On top of the survival story, it's also a getting-together story. Steve and Tony flirt and pine and bicker and flirt some more, until a squabble turns into a confession and they finally start kissing. There’s plenty of time for “it’s cold in this wasteland and we only have one blanket, oh no,” but they’re firmly established as romantically involved by the time the other Avengers show up and they have the final showdown with Beyonder.

Anyway a lot of the AU notes I've been making are about the functional side of their Big Camping Adventure. So here's a bunch of lists about vehicles, gadgets, and navigation.

~

Vehicle stuff:

If Tony is riding passenger on the motorcycle, he can clip his repulsor boots into special footrests that reroute the energy and give the bike a speed boost. 

The bike has a tow cable. Steve can harpoon things using a spring-action firing mechanism, including cliff faces to help him scale steep terrain. The cable can also be uncoiled manually, like when Tony takes flight while holding the end so he and Steve can clothesline hostiles. 

Steve can stick his shield several places on the bike depending on what’s convenient. On the front as a windscreen/battering ram, on one side for easy grabbing, and even on Tony’s backpack so Tony can snuggle in properly while riding passenger and keep both their backs protected.

They probably don’t even need a ramp to get the bike into the bed of the pickup. Steve just picks it up and puts it there.

The evolution of Marsha (the truck) into a full Hulkbuster-style mech takes a long time. For the majority of their time in Battleworld, it’s just a truck with an ever-increasing number of weird add-ons.

Marsha can function as a tiny camper home. The cargo bed liner is a false bottom, which can be pulled up and rearranged to form a cover/roof. Underneath the liner, the actual truck bed is about a foot deeper, with most of that storage space taken up by a mattress and bedding. 

Tony can pull a cable out of Marsha’s steering column and plug it directly into his arc reactor. This unlocks extra features and weapons. He generally has things balanced so that Marsha drawing power doesn't affect him any more than his armor drawing power would. But on rare and desperate occasions, he can overclock and hurt himself. Steve of course hates when he does this.

Turnabout is fair play though: at least once, something else damaged the arc reactor, so Tony plugged into Marsha to draw power from the battery for his electromagnet while he repaired the arc.

Gasoline can be difficult to procure, so both vehicles are hybrids. Tony just keeps adding new power conversion elements as they go along, based on what they can find. 

~

F in chat for Tony’s armor:

Tony dismantles the armor he’d been wearing when they first went into the no-tech dimension.

Obviously he keeps skeletal versions of the repulsor boots and gloves in-tact enough to function. 

He also keeps most of the helmet, for when he’s riding with Steve on the motorcycle. Mostly because Steve insisted. It's gutted of tech though, so if the faceplate stays as part of the design, the eyes are just holes (like in the classic comics).

The rest of the pieces are kept in a large packing trunk.

Tony repurposes some parts into useful gadgets for himself and Cap, plus the odd toy for other Avengers (like Widow’s new stinger gauntlets) because he’s optimistic like that.

Electronics use precious metals like gold and copper, so Tony scrapes some out to pay for things in certain areas of Battleworld, like the cowboy town or the pirate area. He might also barter with other general bits like wires and screws, but he avoids parting with any actual full tech.

~

Plug-n-play Gadgets

Since the power draw for Tony's electromagnet is actually fairly minimal, Tony makes use of the arc reactor as a charging station, mostly when he sleeps. It's not like there's a corner store they can drop by to get a pack of batteries. Things he charges include (but are not limited to):

Flashlight for Steve. The bulbs for it came from the eyes in the Iron Man helmet. Note: Tony doesn't need a flashlight himself because he can turn up his arc brightness apparently, lmao.

Camp stove. Steve questioned Tony building one for a hot second because hello we can build campfires to cook over? But then it’s raining and they're in a cave and Tony is like, "if you fill this space with smoke I will divorce you before we're even married." And Steve is like "camp stove wow yes okay." Also they had camp stoves in WW2 so honestly it was simply a Himbo Moment to disregard the virtues of one in the first place. 

Walkie talkies. I know they had Avengers comms but I like the aesthetic of walkie talkies more. Maybe the comms relied on satellites that they obviously don't have anymore or something.

~

Navigation:

Speaking of a lack of satellites, the GPS in Tony’s armor is rendered useless. Steve is real smug about it and pulls out his old-fashioned compass. But Battleworld also doesn’t have proper poles, so it just spins wildly for a few seconds and then points at Tony’s electromagnet. Not to be deterred, Steve declares, “Well, you’re never lost if you can find Polaris.” They look up and realize that the night sky, despite having stars and a moon, is not at all arranged the way it is on Earth. 

Tony takes this as a Challenge. He builds a sextant, then spends the next several nights in a row muttering math under his breath as he painstakingly creates a hand-drawn star chart. This, combined with landmarks, becomes the primary way they orient themselves as they roam around Battleworld.

Many nights, Steve and Tony lie in the bed of the pickup together and make up constellations named after other Avengers and friends. Steve makes a copy of Tony’s star chart and sketches artistic renditions of the constellations on top. To close this post with an interesting visual, here’s an example of what Tony’s star map might look like vs what Steve’s would more resemble:

[umbral-stigmata-unbound]

Before the Dawn AU | Vincent Valentine (long post)

~

Music Theme Found Here

~

Basic AU Info from Profile:

In this verse, Vincent stumbled into the grasps of two elders of a rather cult-like coven, seeking to make a Feral Vampire, a demon-power gifted blood sucker of legend. He had been investigating the disappearance of his father, which led him to a beautiful woman….and between her and her cruel mate who she loved by obligation of sire-hood and despised all at once, Vincent Valentine was trapped, tormented, and eventually turned before he had a chance to understand and break free. But not just turned, he was forced through many rituals; which involved foul blood of old, much pain on his part, and a few extra ingredients, not least of which a piece of sacred crystal that his two Sires risked a great deal to get, and would eventually pay for dearly--all in hopes to make him their success. And in a way, he was. Where most others became mute and wild, or died, or were barely strong enough to go out and hunt, he was strong, and held certain abilities connected to other beings that were unlike what normal vampires could wield (instead of just increased speed and strength and endurance, and immortality and enhanced sight, etc, he came to possess influence over some predators as well as predator like deformities he could summon (claws, a tail, horns, glowing eyes), blood influence over weaker vampires to where they could be glamoured like humans, and a small level of telekinesis, and telepathy with those he chooses to share a blood connection with, or is forced to). They intended to use him, though, and after years of torment and tests, he finally broke free of their control (to some degree, it was due to the Madame Sire, Lucrecia, and the fact that she seemed torn between cruelty and a gentle regretful heart that sought to help him and free him, as well as stop further unholy experiments of their Sire Hojo). His Madam Sire was lost to him, and it was some years before he learned of her true fate. And one he came to influence the rest of the coven himself, stronger than his Lord Sire, Hojo fled, with Vincent intent on hunting him down and ending him. From that moment on, Valentine sought to liberate vampires trapped by cruel covens, making one of his own that collected strays and those in need, and he makes a point to hunt down the disgusting wretches of the world. If he was going to be a monster, he might as well be the nightmare to other monsters.

~   ~.  ~

Name: Vincent Valentine (also known as the Blood Demon, or the Galian Fang)

Species: Feral Vampire (experimentally/ritually altered)

Role/Profession/Job: Former life = Paranormal Investigator and Handler (sometimes exterminator). Mid-Life during his time with the cult = Experiment subject. Current Life = Coven Leader (of the Valentine Coven), Hunter of the Irredeemable Damned, Shadow Aid to the Lost Damned

Age: 467

Nature: Before his change, he was a serious, committed human male, a hunter, trained by his father to know a monster/creature/abnormal being when he saw it, and know what to accept of it and what not, leading him to become a somewhat firm hunter and investigator. That ended when he found himself in the United Coven. After such time, he was angry, thirsty, and wild, being a feral being as he was. He knew how to handle a being like himself, but not how to be one. There was a time of chaos, but eventually, he found his control. Now, he is very much an intense, analytical Feral Vampire, only takes the blood of the willing and consenting, or the blood of those too damned to have any right. He was at a time ashamed of his more monster like state, but has sense come to have some level of peace with it and is known to be very intimidating and animalistic when on Hunts, but patient, quiet, and kind to those who deserve it.

Personality: Before his change, he was a bit secluded and inwardly curious with a big imagination--a bit of a story teller and artist, which bred a desire to see good in the world despite his family only searching for the bad. But years progressed and his role in life shifted. Seriousness and duty drove him, and drove him too far. He wanted to do right by his late father, and was a champion for the truth and balance amongst the dark. After his change, there was a secluded selfish streak as he tried to make sense of his new life, and had to let go of most of his self disgust and rage at his fate. Now, he thrives as a hand of justice, silent and secluded as he can tend to be, and an unconventional caretaker of the lost and misunderstood. 

History: He was troubled but committed. His family had made great strides in their work as Investigative Hunters, but they’d also lost quite a lot as well. For some time, he did not wish to follow his fathers work. But his father fell to an unknown Monster, and it left Vincent to carry on the legacy or leave their line disgraced and the world without a Valentine to make right the horrors of the truly damned. So he took up the mantle and the gun mad especially for him by his father, Cerberus, and began where his father left off. He found that his father was perhaps too old school and harsh on the subjects he would hunt, and made sure to study every facet of the situation before dealing out punishment--half of his targets would be left spared with warning and offer of support as well as absolute end were they ever to betray his trust and expectations, and the other half he exterminated without hesitation when it was made clear they were irredeemable. His hunt eventually led him to the Union Coven, very questionable and so secluded that he couldn’t get information on them without finding himself within the coven that turned out to be more of a cult. In the beginning he was welcomed, and treated as an ally, but he got too comfortable, and was taken advantage of. The Coven leader, Hojo, and his mate, Lucrecia, took him in, still trying to win his favor despite trapping him, and told him nonsense about a great and powerful breed of vampire, and how they sought to birth it into the world. He was against it, and the more he struggled, the more they restricted him, until he was locked away in a dungeon, slowly being drained. When he was near death, he found himself bitten by both mates, and his transition process was put on hold until they could get everything they needed to use him as an experimental trial for the Feral Vampire--something they had thus far failed with. It took a great deal of splicing, blood, and magical artifacts, but finally...they succeeded. Amidst it all, Hojo made it clear he was without a heart or care, he simply wanted to create monstrous wonders. And Lucrecia...was a mystery. One moment she was gleefully at her mates side, toying and testing, and the next she begged Vincent’s forgiveness and tended to him in a very doting fashion. A breed of conflicted, toxic love was coaxed within Vincent, and he was never sure if it was true, or just a part of their experiments. He hated and loved her, and wanted to be free, taking her with him. But it was not to be. In time, his power developed and grew, showing he was a success...and he took advantage of their success. Lucrecia was missing the day he broke free, and Hojo escaped. All beasts, loyal or mindless, within the coven, were wiped out by Vincent. He spent time hunting Hojo to destroy him, Lucrecia to demand answers, and then time struggling to come to terms with what he had become and the hunger within him. A great deal of guilt and suffeirng came, before he found his way again. In time, he sought to make right again the imbalance, but with a broader view than he had before. Now, he fought for the innocent humane beings, as well as the misunderstood creatures, and fought against the beasts without a shred of goodness or heart. In time it turned into a habit, to collect the misunderstood that were on their own, usually Vampires but sometimes other, and so his Coven began. It is a community of true, proper, balanced and caring unity and many of this within his coven follow in his footsteps to help better the world.

Powers/Abilities:

Normal Vampire abilities like increased strength, speed, durability, immortality, and very heightened senses.

Some level of the traditional shapeshifting, but sometimes tied into his Feral abilities.

Influence over susceptible/weaker predators (due to an Alpha-like nature to his Feral side), as well as predator-like deformities he could summon (claws, a tail, horns, glowing eyes). 

Blood influence over weaker vampires to where they could be glamoured like humans, along with his natural influence on what few Vampires he would ever create, if any. 

A small level of telekinesis, and telepathy with those he chooses to share a blood connection with, or is forced to connect with due to other reasons.

Shroud flight.

Presence/Authority amongst lower demons.

Some minor demonic magic.

Possible unexplored link to a demon.

[littlesparklight]

What is it about Zeus/Ganymede that you like so much?

I like them because I enjoy the dynamic (problematic I know 😬) and the fact that Ganymede was the only one who was given immortality, he must’ve been adored 🥰 instead of simply being a toy (which is my most dislike interpretation because it’s disrespectful to both parties imo)

Do you read fic of them (besides your own)? I remember reading a fic on live journal that I loved everything about but it’s gone R.I.P 😔

Ahh, anon. (guess who lost the original version because of clumsy fingers and now has to rewrite this...) First of all, yes, I do read fic other than my own! I’ve searched high and low for more to read, but I’m picky since a lot of it is with a negative/”realistic” take and I’m not here for that, so I never get to read as much of it as I’d like. And fic disappearing always sucks. :c

Second! Yeah, I plain enjoy the dynamic when spun in a positive way. Zeus must be completely besotted, because Ganymede is the only one that was taken to Olympus, and the only one who was given immortality! Any other relationship aside from Hera (and previous wives) last maybe a year or so at most? Clearly not so for Ganymede. How can I not like that? Not that I don’t understand why people would go with a negative/more “realistic” take, but honestly I am shamelessly going to go with the positive one, both because that pleases me and because that’s clearly what was intended from the ancients’ POV.

I also like both a bit of drama and kidnapping as a plot point, so the fact that things start with kidnapping is a feature not a bug for me. On top of that I like power differences, especially magical ones (extremely powerful beings having a squishy lover is catnip for me ok), and the other ones that comes with Zeus/Ganymede are great too.

Which, as a side point, leads into that any deity/human pairing is going to be incomprehensibly unequal. Any age differences is honestly the smallest issue when it comes to Z/G in specific or deity/mortal in general (considering that say, any Apollo ship for example is going to have them as well, even if he looks eternally nineteen). Ganymede could have been a 40 year old king and still would have been as powerless against and compared to Zeus as he was when he was taken as a teenager. A couple decades extra life experience isn’t going to change that (and, anyway, at some point Ganymede is going to be hundreds to thousands of years old, even if he’s still technically a youth.) If you’re into deity/human ships, this is just how it is. The options (in Greek myth) for mortals are to go “I’m into this, let’s go!!” or reject the god, and with rejection comes 1. it happens anyway, 2. turning/being turned into something else, 3. death. 2 or 3 are as bad as 1 when the mortal is unwilling, but there’s no really functional difference between rejection and consent when we’re talking about a being that is so massively powerful compared to a human. There’s not really any “ethical” way for a fictional relationship like this, and so, whatever. I’m into it, lol.

And with Zeus’ tendency of playing favourites, and the possibility of Ganymede basically having Zeus wrapped around his little finger? Yeah, all that power in service of spoiling his lover. ;)

Also, like. This is basically a bride kidnapping without the father’s permission. Zeus even pays a bride price!

In the end, like I’ve said before, Ganymede is going to be on Olympus either way. The Iliad’s version has not a whiff of the kidnapping being done for sexual reasons (the sexual element is old, but not as old as the oldest sources we have); the gods, all of them, decided “yeah that one is way too pretty to waste on a human life, get him up here” and took Ganymede for themselves. Why not add some HEA with love too?

Have some quotes below:

Valerius Flaccus, Argonautica 2. 414 ff (trans. Mozley) (Roman epic C1st A.D.) : "[Depicted on a tapestry of Hypsipyle queen of Lemnos :] This part showed the rape on leafy Ida and the famed flight of the boy [Ganymede]; presently he was standing joyfully at the table in heaven, nay, even Jove's [Zeus'] armour-bearer himself [Ares] quaffs the beguiling draught from the Phrygian's ministering hand."

Quintus Smyrnaeus, Fall of Troy 8. 427 ff (trans. Way) (Greek epic C4th A.D.) :

‘O Father Zeus, if of thy seed I am, if at thine best I left far-famous Troy for immortality with deathless Gods, O hear me now, whose soul is anguish-thrilled! I cannot bear to see my fathers' town in flames, my kindred in disastrous strife perishing: bitterer sorrow is there none! Oh, if thine heart is fixed to do this thing, let me be far hence! Less shall be my grief if I behold it not with these mine eyes. That is the depth of horror and of shame to see one's country wrecked by hands of foes.’ With groans and tears so pleaded Ganymede. Then Zeus himself with one vast pall of cloud veiled all the city of Priamos (Priam) world-renowned; and all the murderous fight was drowned in mist, and like a vanished phantom was the wall in vapours heavy-hung no eye could pierce; and all around crashed thunders, lightnings flamed from heaven . . . Then left they [the Greeks] that far-famous town, and turned from war, in awe of Zeus' threatenings." 

Also, like, check out the opening scene of Christopher Marlowe’s Dido play, because it’s got some really funny exchanges between Zeus and Ganymede and Zeus basically promising Ganymede anything he might want for, uh... “hugs” /cough.

[silverhandy]

House call

Pre canon. V being reckless and Viktor being worried.

It's hard to make a name for yourself in Night City, no matter who you are. Especially when you're a rookie ripperdoc trying to cover all the bases that Trauma Team doesn't give a damn about. He learned a lot back then - about other people, about himself, and about medicine, but the most important thing that came out of it was a simple promise to himself, a breaking point signifying that he has found himself a spot in the city's food chain - from now on, he won't be making house calls.

Luckily for Viktor, these days are far behind him, but when a call comes, he still packs the bag.

Read on AO3 

         When Viktor closed the deal with Misty on the space for his brand new clinic, he told himself he’d never go on a house call ever again. That was one of the reasons to finally get himself an actual clinic in the first place. It was hard enough to convince Misty that yes, what she called a ‘friend discount’ on rent really wasn’t necessary, but what turned out to be even harder was backing away from that statement after the first month of burning through the last of his savings to properly equip the damn place, every europenny of which he earned beating the living shit out of other people for the crowd’s entertainment, or, at the very end of his professional career, getting the living shit beaten out of him more often than he’d be willing to admit. He wouldn’t say he was surprised, but he’d still clench his teeth at how much of a money shredder equipment and basic setup was. Investing in cyberware to install without a baseline clientele was a stretch on his part, but worth it in the long run, or at least that’s what he was telling himself. In the beginning, he was a new face on the ripperdoc stage, without many people who could vouch for his skills or spread the word around Night City. He had to build that up over the years, from client to client, until he arrived at this ambiguous, albeit comfortable position he found himself at now - a bit too expensive for sex workers in dire need of a new leg, arm or face, but at the same time not fancy enough for corpos looking to spend their eurodollars on something extra their company-funded tech package didn’t cover.

He didn’t mind that, not really. The clinic was paying its own rent at this point, with more than enough still left for his personal needs. Most often he chose to invest it back into the clinic and get something like a brand new Kiroshi straight from a retailer without worrying whether the money would find its way back to him. He didn’t need the extra cash, didn’t need to go the extra mile, both figuratively and literally, to make a living. Just a few years back, right after finishing his apprenticeship, he found himself without a stable spot to practice his newfound profession and eventually resolved to the only way he could earn those killer fees back - responding to calls from patients too far gone to drag themselves to the closest ripperdoc. That added an additional layer of time and money, driving around the city from point A to point B, and then C and D and so on, playing those little fetch quests that required him to lurk in the parts of the city he’d rather avoid. That was the worst part - he had to grab his bag and go whether the patient needed him to be at that moment, be it next to a stinking, muddy trash container in a dark alley or a cockroach-infested megablock that had a mean-looking gang member at every corner, just waiting for shit to go down. In hindsight, Viktor would sometimes do more harm than good, dealing with emergency cases as a barely qualified ripper, but at least the patients didn’t die right then and there, whatever was left of their cyberware snatched by someone, a brand new owner who’s been eying a potential update. Fucking vultures, always lurking around, walking in simultaneous with risking getting a bullet as well, but he never let it scare him.

         His boxing training sure came in handy in times like this.

         Ah, how young he was back then. How inexperienced, mostly putting together the people and their technologies, salvaging what was left to salvage and removing everything else while trying to keep the damage to a bare, necessary minimum. At least one good thing came out of it - he had to learn damn fast and eventually installing new pieces of chrome seemed like a breeze compared to removing the twisted, shattered, or melted bundles of metal and wires that these tiny works of genius have turned into. It was a grisly job, one that made his current clinic in a run-down garage akin to a luxury. In many ways, it was. For one, it was much calmer, working within his own, controlled environment, with most appointments scheduled in advance. A real, damn luxury.

         And so he made use of that luxury and just as Misty gave him the keys, complete with a plush, aggressively pink charm and a small, hand-carved figurine of something he could never quite discern, to the rusty gate that opened his soon to be clinic, he promised himself he’d never do a house call again. But as years went by, he came to realize that where there are friends, there are exceptions and V was one of the few people he was willing to make exceptions for.

    It’s not like he expected it, either. Misty would later say that she knew something bad would happen that day, had a premonition or a gut feeling or whatever she called it, but he’d just shake his head and give her a grin. Sure, Mist. Sure.

         Viktor didn’t believe in things like this, has seen too much in too little time to give his faith to anything higher than his own hands, be it corporations, capitalism, religion, or fate. He didn’t need to, having built enough skill and life experience that there was no need to extend his trust beyond that.

       At first, V didn’t even call, she texted him instead, a scrambled collection of letters that must’ve lost their meaning at some point on their way from her brain to her fingers. One after the other, they kept coming and Viktor could swear that he could feel V’s agitation seeping through the screen. The doctor just frowned and found V’s number on the contact list, turning the volume up a bit on his interface before he unknowingly started to make a mental list of what he might need to put in his worn-out gym-turned-medical bag that he still kept somewhere on the bottom of one of his cupboards. The melody of an awaiting connection kept playing in his head, each note adding a drop to his slowly increasing pool of anxiety. Just as he thought she wouldn’t pick up, that a kind, robotic voice would send him straight on his merry way to voicemail, the music abruptly stopped, signifying an ongoing phone call.

         ‘V? You okay?’ he asked, trying to keep his voice casual, the way you’d ask a friend how they’re doing after an all-night bender. Maybe that’s what happened, maybe the merc just had more than a little too much booze and was drunk texting whoever was high enough on her contact list.

       All that answered him was dull silence, interrupted from time to time by a muffled sounds. As Viktor opened his mouth to ask again, V’s voice came, but not the one he knew, not the cocky blunder with curse words heavily woven into it, but a raspy, shaky whisper. If V’s portrait photo hasn’t been clearly visible in his open calls window, he could swear it must be someone else.

         ‘Vik, can...can you…’ a cough, much wetter sounding than a healthy person’s cough should sound. And something metal clanking on the floor. ‘Can you come? I’m…’ and another one, much longer than the other, followed by a few long, raspy  breaths.

     ‘Where are you?’ Viktor asked, already pulling his old bag from under the counter. There it was, just as he remembered it. Even the blood spatters and grease that just wouldn't come off, having bitten their way into the material, were still there.

         ‘My place’ she just said, or rather spat out as another coughing fit overwhelmed her.

         ‘Hang in there, okay? I’ll be there in ten” he said before realizing that she has abruptly ended the call before he could even finish the sentence. He didn’t care about such a minor offense at the moment, looking over his equipment and taking whatever he may need with him, filling the bag with all kinds of medical tools that might come in handy to the point where the zipper just barely closed.

         His initial anxiety was replaced by adrenaline, a familiar autopilot kicking in. V didn’t need him to worry his brains out, she didn’t need him panicked or unsure, what she needed right now was an experienced doc who could get the job done, even if he didn’t exactly know what the job was just yet. He put the bag over his shoulder, not letting its weight drag him down, and headed out, jumping two stairs at once. He didn’t go through the shop, not wanting to alarm Misty or be flooded by her questions, and took a short way out through the gate on the inner yard, finding himself on the busy street, full of people despite how late it already was. He didn’t stop to contemplate it, instead just hopped on his bike and slammed the gas handles, praying to a God he didn’t believe in that an NCPD patrol wouldn’t stop him for various traffic misdemeanors. He parked right outside the megablock where V’s apartment was in and practically ran up, navigating between the groups of people that were clearly enjoying their night out, chatting with neighbors or grabbing a bite from one of the many vendors that had their stall in one of the halls. The smell of old grease, fried fish and heavy spices hit his nostrils right along the nauseatingly sweet scent of weeks old trash and drying paint as he made his way through this labyrinth of a building.

         For a second he was afraid that he had made a wrong turn or run through one flight of stairs too much, but the familiar, greenish gleam of a travel station was enough of a confirmation that he was indeed heading the right way. He finally stood in front of V’s door, a steel imbued construction identical to any other, not even a number plate in sight, but an angrily red dot indicating that the lock was closed. He raised the hand to knock and when he heard no answer, not even a single sound from inside the apartment, he felt another tingle of anxiety, but he pushed it to the back of his head. He knocked again, harder this time, with more urgency, as if the door mechanism gave a damn since V apparently didn’t hear him. He cursed under his breath and then it hit him, a solution so simple that he’d burst out laughing if he wasn’t feeling so on edge.

         He still had it, after all. The first (and only) real piece of cyberware he got for himself, a simple lock opener that came in handy so many times in his early days, saved so many lives. He thought about uninstalling or even taking it out entirely so many times, after all, there were regulations about these things these days that he didn’t quite meet, but who cares. Flooded with relief that his sense of lawfulness has dulled into a table knife over the years, he started working the lock and after a mere few seconds he heard a familiar sound, identical all over the city in places like this. The dot changed to green and he waved his hand in front of it, triggering the mechanism opening the door. As he rushed into the pitch-black apartment, the blinds closed shut, V’s silhouette sprawled out on the floor, barely visible only because of the flickering light creeping in from the corridor, Viktor sighed.

        He hated doing house calls. But damn, the things he'd do for that kid.