#Also the asks have piled up a lil bit so it may take a while to get to some of em. rest assured they will all be answered though

[cryptidwithacopiccollection]

-points at you with delight and glee- FELLOW MARINE BIOLOGY/OCEANOGRAPHY ENTHUSIAST!!! hi I love your mer-attorneys and all the sea creatures you pick it delights my inner fish immensely

FKJHSAJHKSDKHSD THANK YOU!!

This whole AU would not have been possible without @original-character-chaos, who contributed to like half of the creature picks for the mers. It started out as me making a joke that if Miles Edgeworth was a mer, he'd be a frilled shark. Nox then asked if Gumshoe would be an octopus. Then I decided Franziska would be a sixgill because I love sixgills. We promptly spiraled out of control from there.

And when I say spiraled oh boy do I mean it. Under the cut is several paragraphs of infodumping.

First was our basic criteria: only deepsea animals.

Next came picking out deepsea animals for everyone. At this point we had Mia, Maya, Pearl, and Miles figured out, but we needed something for phoenix. At first I tossed around the idea of a coelacanth, since they're both blue and incredibly persistent, but they aren't able to swim very deep (only 700m down, mia would have had a 6,000 meter lead on him). Then I was looking up deep sea sharks. and one name stood out as odd to me. The basking shark was on there. Which was weird, they're surface dwellers. They literally have "basking" in their name, why would they be deepsea. Then I found out that they can dive up to 2,000 meters below the surface. for reference, that is as deep as GIANT SQUIDS.

And then it clicked that of COURSE Phoenix Wright, of all characters, would make a great deepsea mer to have basking in it's name. A few other factors, such as basking sharks being able to breach and being warm-blooded (just think of the cuddling possibilities), sealed him in.

Not only did we decide that we were only allowed to pick deepsea animals (reaching the twilight zone, aprox. 200 meters below sea level minimum, preferrably closer to the midnight zone at about 1,000 meters), but each character, save for identical twins, would be a different species. The specificity has gotten to the point where all mers in the Fey family have to be in the order scyphozoa, aka "true" sea jellies, and ON TOP OF THAT their bioluminescence directly correlates with their spritual power. So Mia, Maya, and pearl are all bioluminescent, but Dahlia and Iris aren't. Similarly, while we decided to give all characters distinct species, we also wanted bio family to show some relation to each other. So while Apollo is a thorny whiplash squid and Trucy's a vampire squid, they're both red cephalapods, and their common root, Thalassa, is a blanket octopus. Nox and I were kinda loosing our shit trying (and failing) to cross-reference the depth range of the gelatinous blanket octopus (Thalassa), which is different from a the shallow-dwelling rainbow blanket octopus, and even after digging up actual research papers our findings were unfortunately inconclusive. Another less complicated example is Manfred vonKarma, who we lovingly gave a greenland shark for the fact that he's old as fuck and also full of poison. Then of course Franziska had to be a shark too, so I said bluntnose sixgill because they are so fucking cool, and everyone sleeps on them.

And I mean it. Look up the largest sharks in the world. #1 will be the whale shark, for obvious reasons, the largest we've ever accurately measured was over 60 feet long. #2 will be the basking shark, which also checks out, their largest on record was over 40 feet.

But then you check for the next on the list. Now, weight-wise, the results do look different, but we're specifically focusing on the length of the shark from snout to tail-tip for this. And it's also where I start wanting to throw hands. On base reaction, most people would say the great white. A good record on measurements is this article, but they unfortunately appear to have fallen for the Great White propaganda, claiming the largest one on record was 23 feet. Wow, that's big! Sure would be cool if it was true. The largest great white that I can reliably find measurements on is Deep blue, who clocks in at just over 20 feet. There are unconfirmed reports from several hundred years ago of whites that were well over thirty feet... that I don't believe were actually great whites. See, they bear a striking similarity to the harmless, much larger basking shark, and I'd bet actual money on these reported catches just being very unfortunate baskers, sorry guys.

So, great whites only grow to about 21 feet MAXIUM, and most average 15-16 feet. Why have I spent so much time tearing them down over sixgills? WHEHEHEELLL. Buckle up. The largest recorded bluntnose sixgill shark was

26.

feet.

long.

Unlike great whites, a sixgill has no larger relatives to be mistaken for.

AND while I'm at it, I would like to add that the average size for this species, 11-14 feet, isn't nearly as well documented as other shallow-water sharks, and is based on when the shark reaches sexual maturity; sighted sixgills often reach well past 18 feet. Submersibles have encountered massive ones, such as this gorgeous beast, and because I'm so very normal, I did the math. It's stated in the extended cut of the exploration that her head is about 3 feet wide. And based on this reference, i measured out a sixgill's head width as about 1/7th of their total body length.

3 x 7 is 21, so that shark is, give or take, about 21 feet, possibly longer. Since they are deep-sea sharks, with the adults sticking to deeper waters, it is entirely possible that the largest ones are just chilling near the seafloor having never seen a submersible or ROV. Even discounting that, we have a (albeit roughly) measured sixgill who is as big as Deep Blue, if not bigger, and google is a liar.

They also are responsible for trying to eat underwater ethernet cables

So yeah. that's a lil bit of lore for Law of the deep, the silly little deepsea mer au for ace attorney! Thank you so much for the ask, again :D

[aleiellovesyou]

How Are They Feeling About You? - Love Reading

Pile 1-3

Pile 1

I’m feeling like this is someone within your community, potentially a schoolmate, you go to church with them, you work together, or this is a family friend. For majority of you, you have known this person for a long time and there have been significant events in your relationship either directly involving the relationship or affecting the community you are apart of as a whole. What I’m seeing here is that they don’t feel very confident in themselves specifically relating to finances, body image, or status in general. I feel that they are afraid to be vulnerable with you because of their insecurities. I do see this person has passionate feelings for you and would like to explore something with you. I also see them feeling restless and being tired of the uncertainty with you. They may see you as potentially closed off and focused on other things and not them. Because of their insecurities I don’t see them taking any bold action towards the relationship, but I do see them doing small things for you as a way to ease into something more. If you notice any small acts of service, know that this was strategized, planned, and is being done with the intent of moving this connection to a more romantic type of relationship.

Extra Confirmation: ginger/auburn hair, parties, aries, capricorn, virgo, attractive physique, masculinity, the beach, wealth, shy, school, mall/shopping.

Pile 2

I feel like this is someone within some kind of position of power. Potentially a boss or a leader of some kind. For some of you, if you play sports, this is a team captain. I’m seeing some kind tension around this relationship that was maybe pacified by this person, either they apologized, gave you something, or proposed something that would bring this relationship back into harmony or this is something they want to do. I definitely pick up on a certain power or influence that this person has and because of that they may not be able to directly express their feelings toward you which I do see here. It appears they do have a crush on you and get butterflies around you especially during conversations. You make them feel giddy and imaginative about domestic life with you. But they aren’t clear about where you stand at all because they see you as someone that keeps to yourself and doesn’t really show too much. I feel like they are waiting to see what happens between the two of you and it seems like any romantic move they make will not be direct and will be kind of calculated. For example, if they just so happen to be around you when it’s only the two of you or something like that. I am picking up on them being indirect but still orchestrating some kind of interactions to get what they want without making themselves too vulnerable.

Extra Confirmation: losses, puppies, cats, music, gymnastics, humor, rainbows, scorpio, aries, travel, boss, work, roses, lightning, castles, stars

Pile 3

warning: a lil 18+ towards the end

I’m seeing that there’s something unexpected, surprising, or intense about this situation. Like maybe the two of you had a moment that is now making both of you wonder about the other persons feelings or where something came from. Like I’m just hearing “where did that come from?” This person you’re asking about maybe did something bold or gave you some kind of romantic or sexual attention. For example, if they looked at your body and you noticed it or if they made a comment about your appearance. Those are just examples. But I feel like despite having romantic and flirtatious feelings for you, they want to be careful with how much they give/show because they aren’t in a position to commit to you or have anything serious. This person likely has their own burdens at this time and while they enjoy flirting, they don’t think they can offer you anything else. They also see you as having your own problems, specifically regarding money or family but there’s a bit of mystery and secrecy that they get from you so they don’t know too much about your situation. Maybe they just know that you come from a broken home or recently lost a job. Something like that, what they know is very surface level. Even tho they can’t offer you anything actually grounded right now, I do see it on their mind as a future thing and it saddens them that they can’t be with you right now. I’m seeing a lot of sexual tension here and a desire to connect freely but they don’t want to hurt you and just hookup if they know they can’t offer you anything else. This person seems really sweet and cares about the way they make you feel. Some of them are worried that they’ve really let you down and like it’s too late to come back from something or you have moved on.

extra confirmation: leo, cancer, 333, self love, peacock, too late, dinner date, substances, sex, short hair, delusion, haunted by memories, family

That’s all I have for this reading, thank you and I hope you found something that resonated for you! 🩵

[lemonflavoreddishsoap]

good morning/afternoon/evening, i saw your request open and i was wondering if you'd be up to write some headcanons about risotto & ghiaccio with a gn! s/o who likes to take care of them; whether it's combing/washing their hair, making meals for them, helping them relax after a day of work, etc.

feel free to delete/ignore this request if it's not of your liking. and, thanks in advance (<3).

I actually received another anon request asking for something similar-

- so I'm just gonna lump them all into one big heaping pile of headcanons! Thank you for the requests <333 La Squadra with a house husband/wife who loves to take care of them

Formaggio

Loves it so so so so much

How lucky he is to have an s/o like you, doting on him and putting in so much work for the two of you.

Always goes to you to massage out any aches from the day

Hugs you from behind while you're in the middle of cooking every time. No matter what. It's not a problem at all unless it leads to you getting something on yourself or getting burnt (in that case he'll apologize - then do it again the very next time.)

In return, he tries his best to treat you whenever he can. He buys you sweet lil gifts all the time, leaving them around for you to find while he's out on missions <333333

Illuso

All those pigtails of his? Yeah, they aren't much, but every time he puts his hair into them he considers asking you to do it instead. He never does, but if you find him doing his hair with a dumb smile on his face, that's why.

Need I say this man praises you and your work?

"Smells amazing, doll, whatcha cooking this time?"

"Damn, the room's spotless! You worked real hard, didn't ya?"

gives you a big ol' smorch on the lips....sigh....

Prosciutto

It's the kind of s/o he always pictured himself having, this is just what he expected life to have in store for him.

As a result, he sort of treats the things you do pretty casually. If you didn't know better you'd say he doesn't notice or care.

But of course, you know him better than that. The kiss on your knuckles before every meal and the quick compliments he gives you throughout the day are how he lets you know he loves you and the work you do.

It's the way he intertwines his fingers with yours in the late hours of the night, you two tucked in bed, that lets you know it's all appreciated.

Pesci

Oh Pesci.. oh this boy...

No matter how many times you do all these nice things for him, no matter how much of an everyday thing it is, it makes him feel so incredibly special every single time.

Every sweet thing you do for him has him practically blubbering out "thank you"s and "you're so sweet"s

Oh my GOODNESS. PLAY WITH HIS HAIR. his hairstyle may be strange (all of La Squadra's are), but please please please run your fingers through it, ruffle it around, mess it up a bit, he loves it.

BONUS POINTS if you get a hairbrush and fix up his messy hair afterwards. Oh he's putty in your hands.

Will do anything he can to return the favors, unless you tell him he doesn't have to. augghhh

damn i got passionate about this one

Melone

Remember how I said Formaggio hugs you from behind while you cook? Well, Melone does that too.

But unlike Formaggio he does it while you're doing literally anything. You could be scrubbing the toilet and he's embracing ya and peppering kissing down your neck and. probably distracting you quite a bit.

But also unlike Formaggio, Melone stops when asked, or when it's clear his affection is making it super hard for you to work.

He'd love it for you to braid his hair, and if you have long enough hair, he'll braid your hair too.

If there's ever a day where you aren't doing too hot, sick in bed and he has the day to stay home, he'll be your house husband for the day. A perfect chance for him to give back some kindness ;3

Ghiaccio

It's no surprise that he's coming home with a million things to complain about. So he'll pace around the kitchen and ramble while you make dinner. He's usually irritable at this time, might get picky with how you cut ingredients or how long you cook for.

Still loves everything you make, even if it's not to his exact specifications. Mutters out a "thanks" afterwards and pulls you close to press a looong kiss to your forehead.

Lets you massage the immense amounts of tension out of him. Also wants you to run your fingers through his hair, brushing through his curls and massaging his scalp. For once he stays silent, sighing and leaning into your loving touch.

This man spouts a million words a minute, but he knows he doesn't need to speak to let you know how much he loves you. He just basks in your comfort. Damn, you treat him so well.

Risotto

He loves the caring part of you, he really does, but at the start of your relationship you may need to tell him a few times to stop saying things like "you know, you don't have to do that for me."

Eventually you reach a compromise, and when it comes to cooking and cleaning, you two make it a team effort whenever he's around.

When it comes to helping him relax after work though, he never complains (anymore) about your pampering.

a comforting bath, your hands scrubbing sweet scents through his hair, a moment where he doesn't need to focus on anything except his s/o.

He dreams of having these moments for the rest of his life, holding you close in the eerie silent night and cherishing every second you love him and care for him.

[smilingangel582]

HOLY CRAP THAT WAS SO GOOD AND YOU WROUGHT IT OUT IN SUCH A SHORT PERIOD OF TIME ALSO YES LYNEY STICKING OUT HIS RING IS ADORABLE

MY ENERGY WHILE READING THIS WENT FROM:⬇️⬇️⬇️ TO⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️

Thank you have a good day

-Pepper 🫑 anon

Hehe thanks, honestly I happened to be in a lee! Lyney mood. Plus ever since the rainbow rose incident I'm hyped for it. Thank u for requesting and its totally fine! Be rude as u may! I will feel bad If I leave my anons alone. I'm still learning how tickle blogs even work hehehe.

Anyway enjoy this gift as well. I'll have properly organise anon asks and even fics in my next post so stand by guys.

Enjoyyy~

Never underestimate the greatest magician of fontaine

This is too cute <lil Aether's reaction!>

It's hard for Aether to concentrate on his commisons when he felt eyes have been hovering over him behind his back.

Was it an enemy? Not even Piamon sense such a hawk eye vision under him. Like the spotlight of attention.

He heard Paimon saying something about eating at the restaurant since she got a monstrous appetite.

She proceeded ahead while Aether counted his mora with a slight grimace. Still, who is he to deny a Paimon. Then, upon the arrival, he watched Paimon corner herself with piles of macaroons and fonta. The sweet tooth seemed to tempt even Aether to eat some, though he wanted specifically hungry. Paimon stuffed her face saying something with filled up cheeks.

His gaze shifted to the corner, where he felt himself being watched once again. Its nerve wrecking.

They were at a peaceful corner completely invisible to the crowd except the waitress.

Maybe he was paranoid. There's no way someone was that keen to see him, if that's the case they could approach him.

"Paimons gonna order seconds and something spicy for sure"

"H-hey, control yourself and consider the expenses at least"

She waved off. "Fine, fine Paimon will be careful"

She was off, and he sighed, but it was short-lived when a touch of warm breath reached his ear he flinched away. "Well, fancy seeing you here, Aether."

Struggling to look up, the figure sat back down, and it was no doubt Lyney the magician. How did he get here? He could've sworn Lyney wasn't in this restaurant before. He really is a magician.

"Hey, Lyney, didn't expect to see you hear, what's up?"

It's almost as if he asked a penalty question, and Lyney snickered adorably "Why indeed? I just want to pay off a debt I couldn't repay"

"O-Oh, who would that be?"

"You"

Huh? What debt? And was he really expecting payment from Lyney-

"Eek!" He almost shrieked when cold fingers grabbed his bare sides. Thankfully, for Aether, nobody heard it through the loud chatters of other gentlemen. He let out a sigh of wavery relief now.

Hissing desperately, he grabbed those wrists. "N-not hehehere Lyney... I thohohought-!"

"You thought what? I'll not get revenge at the times you least expect?" He manage to break free from the traveller's hold only to pinch his exposed belly.

This drove Aether nuts as he leaned back against the chair, evading those cruel fingers.

Paimon is sure taking her time ordering, and that was suspicious enough, tho that was the least of his worries. He knew Lyney would get revenge, but to come all the way here stalking him and surprising him is a bit much.

"You sure one to talk considering how you keep your sensitive spots in the open"

"Thahahat ihihis wehehell -Ahaha Lynehehehey! Yohohohou!"

There were some suspicious looks in their directions, and it was certainly brief, but Lyney had to stop and avoid getting attention. He took a mere look back only to see Paimon and Lynette having a bargain of their own.

Those two sure have a lot to talk about... Lyney thought with a wry smile.

"Ahahalright thahahats enohohohough!"

In a sudden twist of fate Aether was able to reach over and tickle Lyney's armpits who squeaked in surprise.

"Nohohot thehehere!"

"Like I sahahaid, you were asking for it"

Seems he was more ticklish, but he had to reach for Aethers' sides again just to stop him momentarily.

Though they had a secure corner they were all struggling an evenly matched war. Aether seemed to be having a bit of an advantage with Lyney's sensitivity although he had exposed his vulnerable sides as a price. He felt his own cheeks blush from the thrill.

Lyney being beneath soon pushed forward only to tickle back his ear, which he deduced was sensitive since the beginning.

It was a bit of a wave change as Aether suddenly shrilled, making them both stop from that startled sound.

The crowd definitely heard that but they couldn't tell who it was. They all turned around, even Aether blushed hard while closing his mouth.

Lyney pursed his trembling lips, the cute sound was too hilarious that he lowered his head to hide the giggles.

"Not fair!" He growled now, nudging his side till he flinched away from the playful touch. He shook his head now. "Sohorry thahat sound was... -ahahaha oh my gohohod, I gotta rehehehember thihis"

"I thought I told you guys to talk, not mess around with each other" the calm tone of Lynette made them both look up.

Aether sighed. "No wonder, you distracted Paimon, thanks for indulging her"

She smiled cordially, "sure"

Lyney sighed now wiping a tear "If we actuallt had an all out tickle war I'd straight go for the ear"

Frowned as he felt embarrassed, he huffed "Yeah well don't forget you made a similar noise to your thighs so... don't get cocky"

Chuckling at their game play, Lynette watched Paimon arrived with a large serve of meals in each palm. She tossed to the table now gasping in delight "Man this is Paimon's best day ever!"

Lyney anxiously turned to his sister "Uh, sis... might I ask who's paying for all that?"

She casually took out his wallet now, without any proper expression to tease him further, "You, of course... your the magician here"

His heart clutches now, graoning "oh fine"

Aether patted his shoulder with assurance. "Let's split the cost, I kinda owe you too"

..............................

Btw I hope u don't mind it, I made it a switch because... I'm kinda lee!lyney obsessed, hehehe

Thank u everyone enjoy this!

Ding ding~

[twisted-wonderland-shenanigans]

I sent an ask earlier and I am so sorry for spamming but I've been having brain worms for the Kaiju!au.

Like we sad Vargas and Kalim being all friendly but imagine little baby Cheka playing with Yuu.

Also, just imagine Cater, Vil, or Rook doing dancing from some music player that Yuu found. Which also makes me ask if they get their own little hideaway for their human buisness. (God Crowley when his hatchling leave the nest...)

And finally, when Yuu finally gets to cook, meat or fish, are the Boys gonna try to demand they have some. I just imagine Yuu giving a piece to grim and his pupils blow out from how good it is....and then words goes around and it's all over for any peaceful cooking with Yuu.

I'm actually in the process of answering that one! I just gotta figure out a few scenarios for it to make it fun~! >v< And please don't worry about spamming me with asks if you have ideas or thoughts you wanna share about my AUs! I love receiving these kind of asks! :D

Putting under a read more because I got a little carried away 😂

----

Oooh my goodness, someone teach lil’ kaiju Cheka to be gentle with the tiny human! X’D To be honest, I almost didn't put him or Falena in the AU...buuuuut now that I think about it, that would be a crime against adorableness, and I will not stand for this! Ò.Ó I shall rectify this~!

In the AU, Cheka would be a little bigger than Grim would be in terms of height. Not quite twice his height, but still pretty big! Now imagine the lil’ ragamuffin sweetheart just trotting along with Yuu perched on his back, playfully marching across a log bridge with Grim trotting behind singing “Hakuna Matata” while Ruggie and Jack have to keep an eye on them (because we know Leona would be taking a nap and hiding from his nephew even in this AU). The only difference between this version of the two is that whenever Cheka pounces on his uncle in a play fight, Leona actually will react as though he got hurt to encourage the hunting instinct.

Hey, he may not be happy having his nephew bugging him, but he knows it’s important to know how to survive (and he’d never hear the end of it from his brother or his brother’s mate)!

When it comes to doing “human business”, it’s agreed that there is a need for privacy even amongst kaiju, so if the human disappears for a short time behind a rock or in a bush, it’s not going to be questioned by curious kaiju. Luckily Yuu won’t have to worry about poison oak or poison ivy! Most of the poisonous plants that can cause an itchy reaction are too high up for them to reach, so it’s mainly the kaiju who would experience the terrible itchy curse. Good thing they’ve got Crewel to mix up some natural medicine for them—good luck making most of them take it though! XD

Anyway, moving on: music! One of the best ways to soothe the soul and calm the savage beast. When Yuu manages to get near one of the other abandoned facilities and gets to explore it with Grim (who is literally the only one small enough to fit inside with them), it was actually Grim who stumbled across a music player. He thought it was some weirdly shaped snack or chew toy.

This resulted in a bit of a tug-of-war between Yuu and Grim, and now Yuu has a new (slightly chewed) music player! Let’s see how it transpired and what resulted afterwards, shall we?

//

“Let’s see…junk, junk, trash…wow, did they really even leave anything worth using in this place?”

Digging around in the pile, Yuu sighed as they sat back and stared at the room. Of course, this place had been ransacked already…though by who exactly was unclear, but it seemed like things had been torn apart and whatever components or guts the tech had before was now gone. But there had to be something they could use in this place, right?

Crunch!

“Pleh!”

“Grimfang, no! Stop trying to eat the plastic you lil’ gargoyle!” Yuu scolded, sighing as Grimfang spat out a few shards that got stuck in his teeth. “Ugh…one of these days you’re going to eat something you shouldn’t, you know that? Don’t come crying to me when you get a tummy ache.”

He shook his head with a snort, giving Yuu a look that suggested he was offended by the very notion that he might get a tummy ache…or at least, that’s how Yuu interpreted it. It was odd how expressive the kaiju seemed to be, seeming almost…human-like in a way, though sometimes Yuu wondered if it was just their mind humanizing them to have company.

“Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Turning back, Yuu scanned the wreckage to try and find something they could at least bring back. Even a writing utensil would do! “Okay…maybe we should try the next room and see what we can find.”

As they turned to go, they heard the familiar sound of tooth scraping against metal and sighed. What has he found this time?

“Grim, if I have to pull another pipe out of your gullet again, I’m gonna-” Yuu began before freezing, eyes growing wide at the familiar shape between Grim’s paws as he tried to gnaw on the corner: a music player. “H-hey, hey! No! Grim! Drop it!”

“Rrraowl!” he rumbled in response, his paws pulling the player into his chest fur protectively.

“Grimfang, no! That’s not a chew toy—hey! Get back here, you malevolent little gargoyle!!”

“Nyaarr!!”

“GRIIIIIM!!!!”

//Later//

The sound of static filled the den as Yuu sat in the nest, using Grimfang’s side as a pillow while they fiddled with the large and heavy music player. It had been one helluva chase around the facility, but eventually they triumphed and claimed their prize! Aside from a slight chewing on the frame, the kaiju’s fangs hadn’t really penetrated the shell and everything seemed to be in working order. To their disappointment though, they couldn’t get a radio signal no matter how many buttons they pushed or how much they turned the dial.

“Hey, MIRA? Does this island have any sort of radio signal or something?” they asked the computer around their wrist. “I can’t get anything on this player.”

“Greetings, Uhm Yuu. Answer: negative. This particular system cannot receive the signals from radio transmissions. Due to the nature of the island and its inhabitants, it is difficult to build and maintain any semblance of a tower to transmit signals across the terrain, requiring different methods to communicate with other facilities.”

“Darn it! So that means I can’t do anything with this hunk of junk?”

“Negative. As it is in proximity, I am able to access the system wirelessly and play music from the database.”

Eyes growing wide, Yuu asked, “There’s a music database…?”

“Affirmative. I have access to a wide selection of music from all manner of media pre-downloaded from the Dark Mirror Server. Dr. Willows was an avid enjoyer of music and always kept an up-to-date selection for her playlists to aid in her work. Would you like to create your own playlists?”

“Yes!”

“Mrr…?”

//End Scene//

And thus began Yuu’s task to set up their musical playlists…much to the kaiju’s confusion even when Grim tried to explain what he could translate. For the most part, they just figured it was a weird human thing…until Yuu played the first song. Was it some beautiful, soothing song, or an excitable bop that made them excited? Nope. It was neither: what was meant to be a fun introduction to a song turned into what essentially boils down to a warped death metal demonic screech and garbled static. The sound was so terrifying that Grimfang looked like a puffy ball of daggers, and Nevermore flared up his wings like some puffy shield in a panic.

That’s why it’s important to check the volume of the music before you play it first!

It was after that when Yuu noticed a difference in the kaiju when they played certain songs—namely instrumentals. For some like Pridefang, they noticed how much more relaxed he was when harp music was playing, while when it came to wind based music like flutes or chimes, Crystalflayer/Vil would croon and sing along and the more canine-like kaiju would practically fall asleep.

Then there were the silly moments with the music.

When Goldmaker/Kalim was visiting, Yuu was playing the song “Cus I’m Happy” at random…when they noticed the shiny beetle/dragon kaiju doing the tippy-tap dance like a dog on all six legs, bouncing here and there in time to the music like a kid jumping on the bed.

And then there was the time that Bruiser/Deuce and Feralfang/Epel were tugging on something that looked somewhat like a giant leather ball that had been popped (or at least, they thought it was a ball, though it could be a bit of carcass too). It didn’t seem like they were fighting over food and more like they were just…playing. It wasn’t until they had stood frozen in place for a moment that Yuu played the song “Cotton Eyed Joe”—

And they both tugged in time to the beat. (A/N: click link for doggos in reference to the song/scene!)

Aaaah, the joys of music!

Now as for the food, as good as fruit and the vegetables were, it was a little harder to find sources of protein that were safe for human consumption on the island…or at least, sources that didn’t want to eat or swallow them whole or were out of reach. Plus, they had a continuous source of fresh meat brought to them and Grimfang throughout the day with no hassle. They just needed a way to…prepare it.

When Yuu manages to light a fire in a makeshift firepit (guided by MIRA’s survival database), Nevermore was certainly surprised to find that his hatchling had finally accepted the meat offering and confused at what they were doing with it near the fire. It’s incredibly rare for any kaiju to actually “cook” their meat, and whatever constitutes as cooked meat would be little more than chewy charcoal, so if it turns out that’s what the little human likes then so long as they eat their fruits and veggies, he’ll allow it.

//

“Aaaaand…done!” Yuu uttered, tugging one of the sticks bearing individual chunks out of the ground. They could feel the juices from the meat that had dripped down the makeshift skewer, forcing them to take care as they adjusted it in their grip to avoid the hot parts before they took a tentative bite.

Just like the fruit, the meat was tender and full of flavor as the juices dripped down their chin with each bite. It wasn’t perfect, but it was so good to have a cooked meal again that Yuu didn’t care. They’d even been lucky to find a wall of salt when they’d gone exploring with Grimfang, so at least the meat had a little extra flavor to it! MIRA had mentioned before that the island had many herbs and spices that could be used for cooking. If they could get a hold of some of these, then their meals would be so much more fulfilling!

Curious sniffing caught their attention as they turned to see Grimfang, cerulean eyes staring at the chunks still cooking on the sticks around the fire. He’d long since finished his portion, so there was no way that he should still be hungry…right?

“Mrrlh?” he grumbled, carefully pawing at the dirt near one of the sticks but not actually touching it before giving Yuu a look.

“No, this is mine. You had yours already,” Yuu told him, turning their attention back to their food.

“Prrrrrr…”

‘…oh no…’ Slowly they turned their attention back to Grimfang…and immediately they found themselves struck by the biggest, brightest pair of kitten eyes they’d ever seen, the kaiju’s forelegs curling up to his chest as he rolled over onto his side to reveal his soft, fluffy tummy. ‘…darn it, why did I have to watch those kitten videos around him!?’

His paws began to open and close, mimicking the kneading motion that the kittens in the video had done earlier.

“…augh! Fine! But just this once, got it?” Yuu said, heaving a sigh as they took another stick out of the ground and—after playing hot-potato with the cooked flesh—tossed it into Grimfang’s waiting jaws with a snap. He was purring in triumph, giving Yuu a smug looking grin…

Before he froze, pupils growing so wide that they nearly engulfed the blue of his eyes. His whole body began to shiver, jaw slack as drool began to drip from his maw. Then—rearing back on his hind legs—his paws pressed against his cheeks as he swayed almost in pure bliss, a series of trills and chirps coming from him.

“Huh. Well, uh…glad you like my cooking, Gri—hey! Hey, hey, hey, hey! NO! Grim! You had yours, the rest are mine! Stoooop! Nevermore!!”

//The next day//

“Okay, here’s what’s going to happen: I’m going to cook some of this meat using the ingredients we just picked from the forest, and while the big hunk cooks on the spit, we’ll snack on the smaller pieces. This side is yours, and this side is mine. Got it so far?”

“Mrp!”

“Good. Don’t even think about stealing my share, or I’m never cooking anything again. Got it?”

“Myah!”

Shniff-shniff…

“Huh…? Wha-!? Scrapper, no! This is mine! I-wait, I-! What are you all even doing here!? Guys!”

//The next day//

“……did you guys know that Scrapper, Shellshock, Ashsong, and Heartbinder could even cook, or is this new?” Yuu asked, watching as Ashsong’s tentacles moved the herbs and spices across the cooking meat, Heartbinder’s claws and teeth ripping chunks off and handing them to the clover-marked Shellshock as he put them on skewers. Ashsong’s wings would occasionally flap, causing the flames to flare up with new life. Scrapper used his jaws to turn the makeshift spit that one of the kaiju had carved to turn the meat in a slow circle.

“Nyawr.”

“Thaaaat’s what I thought…more please!”

//

As it turns out, once the kaiju learn the secret to amazing food, it becomes one of the few things that keeps them from bickering and fighting and even have them cooperate together just to get a taste. It was a strange sight to see, and even MIRA commented that this was highly unusual behavior that hadn’t been recorded by scientists before. This raised far more questions than answers. Sure, the kaiju were dangerous, but they were intelligent.

Too intelligent…

[n3onstarss]

Headcanons; How the Rottmnt boys deal with a reader with depression and muscle pain

Relationship; Rottmnt boys x reader

romantic or platonic?; either!

reader type; reader with depression, possible bipolar and constant muscle pains (projecting again)

Raph

Definitely tries his best to help

will nab you some Tylenol if it's bad, or mother hen you till you do something to relieve the pain and get yourself moving (eating, hydration, shower, etc.)

doesn't take shit during your mood swings, if you tell at him he'll yell right back. he knows what he's doing, probably

will let you wrestle or train with him during high energy episodes to blow off steam

on the other hand, will cuddle and comfort you during depressive episodes

Will gladly let you vent or talk shit with him

he encourages you to repair whatever is messing with you, be it a relationship or an activity or just yourself

love language is acts of service

Donnie

He tries his best but it may not work at certain points

He also struggles with taking care of himself, so it's kinda a symbiotic relationship with y'all

you remind him to eat or moisturize his shell or even sleep and he'll remind you to drink water and brush your teeth and wake you up if you sleep too much

Will gladly let you camp out in his room or lab and just parallel play while he works

when you're high energy he either has you come help with moving heavy projects or helps you find an outlet for it (or just straight up banishes you to hang out with Splinter, it depends)

Will reluctantly but happily split his hoard of Tylenol and ibuprofen (that battle shell HAS to hurt)

Gets a lil territorial over his giant heated lamp, but after about a week he didn't mind anymore and would just flop down back to back for together alone time (Raph got to name it because he tried to explain it to Mikey after you both passed out one time)

love language is quality time

Leo

Eugh boy. he tries so hard but he doesn't notice that sometimes you need space and copic mechanisms aren't universal

will cling to you all the time during depressive episodes if you let him, and will gladly watch movies with you to keep you both busy

hyper episodes are his specialty though! blue boy is always down for chaos and will gladly portal you both to, like, the middle of Disney world if you're both stupid enough

insists that cold showers are better for muscle pain than lava showers, gets bit.

doesn't mind parallel play, but something in him eggs him to be constantly talking and expecting a response (that man is not neurotypical) so he usually just rambles about how everything will get better and little affirmations till you return them or ask him to stop

Will share his heated blanket, unless it's winter, then it's his unless you bribe him with a turtle pile

does his best to remind you to take care of yourself, but is also forgetful and so it's just chaos

love language is words of affirmation

Mikey

Will try to doctor feelings you and let you know you have someone to talk to

when it gets especially bad he organizes a movie binge and turtle pile with all the siblings (which includes April, Cass, CJ and Sunita!) and heated lamps until everyone feels better than before

Very much avoids babying you. he grew up with it, knows it's not nearly as fun as people make it out to be

will leave little sticky notes about very important things, but doesn't tend to be overbearing

will ask you to help him cook during any mood because it's calming and not too stressful

Definitely enjoys parallel play or cuddling, as long as you're cool with it! Will walk over and just cuddle you while you're sitting on the counter while he cooks (arms around your waist, head on your stomach)

Steals Tylenol from Dee for ya (aka asks for some) and encourages you to steal Leo's shampoo for shits n giggles

love language is physical touch

[fanelectricboogieloo]

Lancebolt a Nomadic Dwarf fortress

ok currently in my DF50 Nomad (traveling through the world using dfhack to manipulate the fort site’s global min/max x/y coords) style experience I decided to send a bunch of Dwarves into the caverns to travel through them.

long effort post down below

uhh it ended up with the starting group getting mauled,

leaving them behind (taking the wagon and just literally leaving them behind) for a couple of human monster slayers and trekking it on the surface scooping visitors who wanted to explore the caverns,

traveled deep into the hilltop to start seeing the mounds (the dirt hole homes the dwarves live in) and decided to settle into testing if I could recruit the non-historical figure having citizens of the hilltop to my fort. Then uhh during the experiment to see if I could get more citizens I ended up gathering migrants and visitors from the treetops for a bit due to the original embark’s nanofort size and the trees growing lil to closely to the edge of the map causing visitors to show up in the tree branches.

while everything was a bit chill 3 invasions hit one of them being some necromancer showing up to reanimate some horse and dip.  the zombie horse mostly fended off the human invasion army of 2 people while the goblin one went in to ask for a parley which also ended with them murdering the goblin snatchers that came along after I accepted the parley which may have broken the process of giving them stuff. any way the experiment proved that hist figs are required for friendly units to even petition otherwise you just get a bunch of friendly faces that just stand there. the invasions depleted the population of 50+ back down to 12 which led to me slow marching the group out of the hilltop after causing so many bodies many being the citizens dying from the zombie horse assault... oh yeah during all that I ended up picking up an undead elf who shown up during the goblin siege, and I sent a werebeast goblin off to conquer some site which may or may not spark one of the invaders, the werebeast goblin had never return so it’s consider a boon. during the trek out of the hilltop I spotted a tunnel system and decided to go back to the cavern fort trek plan again with a bit more folks(the number jump up to 30) and a bit more wiser on building a bunker for the dwarves to live in so they don’t get jump while waiting for the map to shift to the next location.

art depicting what usually the small hole in the wall that stores a wagon.

the road arc of this session was interesting as I notice some interesting things on my travels like a burning pile of webs which led to learning that the roads intersect the gem cluster map events by paving a road through the gem cluster box and causing the game to activate the event on map load. I learn of this being the case when I spotted a demon in the middle of the road

this cavy humanoid made of coral fought and killed a giant bat and was really interested in the crammed pack of people behind a sealed door. so after some thinking I botched a plan to just dig away and just unload the map when the group double back and assault the cavy coral beast, the undead elf from earlier pop the cavy’s head off their body with a pickaxe. 

so after that event I was starting to feel like I should find the next settlement to probably end the run, and realize the tunnels like placing zigzag roads for going diagonal which mostly for my nomad setup means I’m burning seasons to make a right or left turn for 2 spaces. after a while of following the tunnel roads I got a sudden death by old age and it was one of my human civilians dying at uhh 87? with the remaining humans being around 44, 50ish and 61. this being a wake-up call to see how far I am on the world map I stop and pop open the embark menu and charted down the trek path I took.

so at this point I decided to just jump off the tunnels and just continue going west(still in the caverns) in hopes of finding a fort to hang out in.

during the off-road journey to the west I found a pack of ant people chilling, feeling hospitable I setup a mini tavern to rest and had the citizens entertain the group.

... I forgot about the caged vampire dwarf stored in the wagon... uhh so weird side-story I think the vampire dwarf got founded when I notice their name was different when I was trying to nickname them.

So Shem got persecuted by some religious baroness that pretty much been hated for their crusade which made me feel like Shem should get revenge... also only found out about Shem identity when they assisted in defending the fort during the invasion which is how I pinpointed which dwarf Shem was. So with a lil powers of dfhackery I summoned the baroness to the fort which I convict them to a crime they didn’t commit... as well as convicting Shem to a crime they confessed and had both of them lock up in cages, this was done during the hilltop arc and both of them were stored in the wagon ever since. the baroness later waste away from Dehydration while the vampire still alive just probably extremely thirsty. Any way this experience of playing somewhat vanilla dwarves... in an extremely entity modded world with Elephant-people having access to dragons and giant whales and other creatures.  Is pretty fun and has been scratching that adv mode itch I been getting since DF50 started with out it. though nomad style does give a refreshing different feel to DF that reminds me of the old advfort days. as eventful this fort is it also like the side fort to the one with a bunch of elephant people and a giraffe person.

[hellfirecvnt]

Eddie smut please!

I’m thinking a fic based on the song sex from the 1975. Eddie and the reader are best friends and used to hang out every day until she got a boyfriend which Eddie is SUPER jealous of.

💕

Took me a second to get to this one, but I wanted it to be REALLY GOOD bc I love The 1975 and I love Eddie and I love you for being so supportive. 🥺❤ Also let me just tell you, I had SO much written and my phone died so I lost ALL OF IT. But we're back. We're trying again. Fuck.

I decided I love this prompt and I'm gonna make a series of this one specifically lmao. Once again, sorry it took so long. I almost gave up writing entirely after I lost my progress. 😂

She's Got a Boyfriend, Anyway.

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Warnings: smut at the end (+18, minors DNI), cheating, a lil bit of angst- I think, more?

It was the same routine everyday ever since you two met six years ago. You and Eddie spend every day, after school and weekends together. Aside from Hellfire, you're each other's only friend.

"Do you know Billy? Hargrove, I think?" You innocently ask, not thinking much of it.

"Hargrove? Yeah, guys a fucking dick." Eddie quips.

"I dunno, he seemed pretty sweet to me." You twirl your hair around your finger, watching the trees zoom past you as Eddie drives you both to his house.

"Oh, come on, Y/N. Don't tell me you're falling for that fake pretty-boy bullshit again." He laughs, referencing the fact that you dated Steve and got your heart broken within 5 months.

"Of course I'm not. I'm just, curious. He seems really nice, to me." A smile can't be helped from finding itself on your face.

"I'm nice to you. Why don't we just fuck in the back of the van right now?" Eddie furrows his brow dramatically, faking confusion for his perverted jokes.

"Shut up, idiot. I'm serious. I need your help picking out an outfit. He asked me out today." The last part of your sentence causes Eddie's smile to fall a bit. He may have hidden it behind an immature joke, but he was being serious too.

"Why would I know what Hargrove wants you to wear? What's wrong with the way you dress?" He questions.

"I don't know, man. I just want to look a little different. I don't want to look like-"

"A freak?" Eddie raises an eyebrow in an I see how it is fashion.

"No, I just want to look clean-cut. A little bit less like all I do is smoke weed and listen to music."

"But that is all you do." Eddie teases as he pulls into his driveway. "And if you want my fashion advice, my first suggestion is to stop stealing my shirts." He points to the worn band shirt draped over you. You roll your eyes and follow him to the front door of his trailer. Eddie's uncle is laying on the couch, looking a little pale.

"Wayne? Take the night off?" Eddie checks in. Wayne explains he's feeling sick so he took today off to recover.

"Hey, let's just hotbox the van. That way it doesn't get all smokey in here while Wayne's not feeling well." Your suggestion earns a thumbs up from Wayne. You've always been considerate like that, something he and Eddie both appreciate about you.

In the van, you climb past the seats, settling into the pile of blankets and various snack wrappers from when you and Eddie camp outside of concert venues for those barricade spots. Eddie follows close behind, eyes fixed on you as you get comfortable, kicking off your high tops and grabbing a magazine to flip through.

"You think Cyndi Lauper is like... Freaky? Like in bed?" You ask, still looking down at the bright red-haired woman's avant-garde makeup.

"She definitely either likes to be slapped around or likes to slap you around." A large, ring-clad hand takes the joint from his mouth and passes it to you. His jewelry catches the dim light of the back of the van.

While you hit the joint, Eddie flips through his many cassettes. He finally settles on Metallica's Kill Em All album, popping it into his radio. He relaxes into the moment, staring at you as he did every day for six years. He's slowly starting to figure out why it's his favorite past time, but for now he's just happy to be your friend.

"Do you think I should take my nose ring out for my date with Billy?" Your question shakes him from his daze and the mention of Billy's name causes his jaw to clench.

"Why would you do that?" Eddie's upper lip twitches in disgust. "He asked you out looking like this, why would you want to look different now?"

"I don't know, dude. I'm really fucking nervous." You cover your face with one hand, dragging it down. You're lying on your stomach, flipping through the magazine while your thoughts race. "He's coming to get me at 6 PM tomorrow." Eddie passes you the joint in a manner that says "shut up."

"Listen, can we change the subject? You're gonna make me sick." His voice comes out a little meaner than he intended, but he's too awkward to know how to fix it. Your eyes widen and you attempt to soften the tension.

"You're right," you laugh. "I tend to ramble a lot." Your face is flushed slightly with the tiniest hint of embarrassment because you didn't mean to get carried away. Noticing your shift, he wants to punch himself in the face.

"Uh, here! Let's smoke two joints and see who smokes theirs faster." Eddie shoves a joint between your fingers.

"You're on, Munson." You wait for him to finish rolling a second joint and you both lean into one lighter so you start smoking at exactly the same time. There were other lighters, y'all just aren't that smart.

As each of you pulls on your joints to get the cherry started, Eddie looks up from the flame, directly into your eyes. It takes a second for you to notice, but you look up, meeting his gaze. He doesn't move or blink, so you give a small smile around your joint. You lower the lighter after a second, having sufficiently lit the joints.

The contrast of the lighter going out shakes Eddie from his trance. The rest of the hang-out was casual and nothing short of your usual day together. Talking about sex, drugs, music, and occasionally DnD. Hours pass before you finally check your watch.

"Holy shit, Eddie. It's 10 o'clock!" You jump up from the soft blankets in the van. "I gotta go, I have to go to sleep soon or I'm gonna look dead tomorrow."

"Hop up front. I'll take you home." Eddie offers as if it's not your only way of getting home. The second you get in your door, you drag Eddie to your room.

"Please help me pick out an outfit, Eddie. It'll be so fast." You tug on the sleeve of his leather jacket. He rolls his eyes and hesitantly agrees. You scramble through your closet looking for something with the least amount of rips and tears. "What about this?" You hold up a dress you've never worn because it's periwinkle and you're not with it.

"A dress? Y/N, seriously?" Again, meaner than he intended. You once again did that thing you do when you're embarrassed and just try to smile the blush away, agreeing with whatever is being said to you.

"You're right, you're right. Um-" It was apparent in your voice that you were getting angry.

"Hey, Y/N-" Eddie attempt to meet your downcast eyes.

"Eddie, you can leave because I can tell you don't want to do this. I know you don't care about the date, and I know you hate Billy, so it was kind of shitty of me to ask you to help me. You're just," you stop to toss your hands up, defeated and dramatic. "My only friend and I like having your opinion on things."

Eddie could explode right now. He could punch himself directly between his own two eyes. No one has ever bitten their tongue as hard as he wished he'd bitten his just seconds ago. He stares at you apologetically, lips pressed tightly together in a speechless, straight line.

"Dude, I'm sorry. Let me help you, I was being a dick." Eddie start rummaging through your clothes.

"It's fine, man. I'm just nervous, I'm sorry." You look at the floor, defeated after your little outburst.

"Shut up, try this on." Eddie tosses you a random top. This is how all of your apologies went, ever since you met. They're almost instant. You've never had a "fight" last longer than a few hours.

You try the top on and it's perfect. Flattering in all the best ways, making you feel hot and comfortable. You pair it with a go-to pair of flared jeans and call it a night. Eddie waves and flashes a toothy grin as he exits out your window. He doesn't even actually need to use the window, he just likes to.

Back at his trailer, Eddie tosses and turns with anger. He didn't care that you had a date, he didn't care that it was with Hawkins's number one womanizer, he knew you could take care of yourself. He was mad because it wasn't him taking you on that date.

The next day Eddie wakes up feeling like he hasn't slept at all. His dreams were consumed with pictures of you, naked on his bed, reading your magazines and getting high. Just the memory of the dream is enough for him to wake up hard.

He shoves those thoughts to the back of his mind and checks the clock. Noon. Not bad for a weekend. Eddie throws the blankets back over his head and falls back asleep, silently hoping for more dreams of you.

Your date with Billy is in just a few hours, so you're getting ready in advance just in case. In case of what, you ask? You don't know. You're just really nervous. Billy picks you up and the two of you head off to the movies.

By the end of your date, you're officially Billy Hargrove's girlfriend. The way he asked was so perfect and romantic, you don't even know where to start. Your first instinct is to call your best friend and tell him everything, but then you remember how annoyed it made him before. So you hang up the phone before dialing and head to your bedroom.

Eddie wakes up, again, and checks the clock. 10 PM.

"Oh, shit." Eddie jumps up and runs to the living room. "Wayne, did Y/N call?"

"Nah, no calls. You sleep all Saturday?" Wayne's voice carries worry.

"Yeah, I don't wanna talk about it. I'll see you later." Eddie calls as he heads out to his van. A short trip later, he arrives at your house. This time using the window because he has to. He taps on it a little before just opening it as wide as possible.

"HOLY SHIT!" You yell having woken up to a dark, broad shouldered figure climbing through your window.

"You should really lock your windows, Y/N. I could've had ulterior motives." Eddie winks in the moonlight leaking through the window.

"Fuck, dude. What are you doing here? It's like 11 o'clock." You rub your eyes.

"It's 10:15 and I just wanted to see how the date went, damn." Eddie drops onto your bed. "So how'd it go?" Eddie smiles over your sleepy face.

"He asked me to be his girlfriend." You gush, blushing and fluttering your tired eyes. "We're seeing each other again tomorrow!"

"That's awesome, wow." Eddie works hard to sound excited for you, but he feels sick to his stomach. Seeing you this happy is enough for him to keep his comments to himself, though. For now.

Eddie turns to look at you, but you've already fallen back asleep. He watches you for a moment, regretting his choice to come here because this news is going to eat him alive when he tries to sleep tonight. Not to mention him already sleeping all day today.

The next day, you don't see each other. The day after that, the same. Billy steals you away every chance he gets. He knows you and Eddie are best friends, and he's hoping to help you realize there are more people to hang around than the local freak.

Two whole weeks pass and the only time Eddie sees you is at Hellfire. It's Friday again and you've arrived at Hellfire before anyone else, except Eddie, of course.

"Hey, man. I'm really excited for this finale!" You beam at him, causing his heart rate to rise.

"I'm glad you've still been able to make it considering you're always so busy." Eddie teases.

"I know, I'm sorry. We should hang out tonight!" Your suggestion catches Eddie off guard. "I'll tell Billy I'm riding home with you."

"Sounds great," Eddie smirks, basking in the idea of you telling Billy you can't hang because you're going to Eddie's. Hellfire club dismisses and you follow Eddie out to his van. Outside the doors, Billy is waiting, leaning against his Camaro.

"Hey, babe," Billy's smooth voice wraps around you like a rope, drawing you into him. "You ready to go?"

"Actually, I'm hanging out with Eddie tonight." You point to Eddie next to his van. "I haven't seen him in a few weeks, so I-"

"But you see him at Hellfire, don't you?" Billy, visibly bothered, folds his arms across his chest.

"Well, yeah. But that's like- it's not like hanging out. We're killing things and he's playing God." You struggle to explain.

"So you're just gonna go over to some guy's house, at night, instead of seeing your boyfriend?" Billy was starting to raise his voice ever so slightly.

"Whoa, man. I've known him for six years." You shake your head in shock.

"Whatever, if you're acting single tonight, I can do the same." And with that, he slides into his car and drives off. He makes sure to squeal the tires as he creates more distance between you. You scoff before shaking your head and walking over to Eddie.

"The fuuuuck was that?" Eddie tries to hide a giggle, giddy knowing he makes Billy so jealous.

"I don't know, dude. But it was kind of hard to watch." You laugh, causing Eddie's laugh to finally escape. The two of you crack up over Billy's little performance before heading back to Eddie's.

"He's literally never done that before. It was so weird. And he's fully aware that we see each other every day, he's never once made it a thing." You pass the joint to Eddie. With your legs extended across his mattress, you propped yourself up on his pillows. Fully occupying the bed.

"That's so fucking weird, man. I've heard he's a little insane." Eddie sits at the end of his bed, practicing chords on his acoustic guitar.

"I don't think he's insane. I just don't understand why he reacted that way." Your eyes remain glued to the page even after you feel Eddie's gaze on you. "What?" You finally look up at him.

"Just... Kinda sounds like you're defending him for no reason. You know, like you did before." He raises his eyebrows.

"Eddie, I-" you start, but you're cut off by car doors outside. You both rush to the blinds to peek, being nosy busybodies, but not giving a shit. That's when you notice Billy's car in the driveway of another trailer that he definitely doesn't live in.

"That's uh... That's Natalia's house." Eddie speaks nervously, knowing Natalia is well known at your school for... Let's just say, stealing boyfriends. As Billy approaches the door, he turns as if he knows you see him and winks at you with a big, gorgeous, evil grin. He disappears behind the door without a word.

"Well, damn." You stare in shock. "Good thing it's only been a few weeks, but damn."

"That was... A lot. You okay?" Eddie places a hand on your shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm not too worried about it." You shrug. Eddie scans your features for any kind of emotion, there doesn't seem to be any.

"Okay..." Eddie draws the word out. "Well, you uh... You acting single tonight?" He side-eyes you.

"Munson," you place a playful hand on your chest as if you're offended. "Feeling bold?" You raise an eyebrow, caught off guard by his question, but you can't deny the excitement it ignited in your stomach.

"Just seems a little unfair, that's all." He shrugs, carefully making his way closer to you.

"I guess so." You bite your lip. Your eyes are locked on your shoes until you feel two large hands gripping your shoulders. You look up to see Eddie gazing down at you with half-lidded, dark brown eyes.

"Let me," Eddie takes a deep breath. "Let me make you feel single." He chuckles into your ear.

"H-How do you plan on going that, Eddie?" You stutter through quickening breaths. Eddie is so close to you, you can barely keep him in focus.

"By fucking your pretty little brains out." His voice comes out in a low growl, sending chills down your spine to the heat building between your legs.

"Slow down, honey." You quip, backing him up and shoving him onto the couch. He stares up at you expectantly, an awe-struck look plastered across his face as he awaits your next move. You keep eye contact with him as you pull your hair back into a messy bun, kneeling between Eddie's legs.

"Jesus Christ," Eddie's voice is nothing less than a desperate huff of breath while he watches your hands slide up his inner thighs to his belt. You focus intently on the handcuff-shaped buckle, unfastening his pants and pulling back his boxers.

Your eyes widen as his erection springs past the elastic of his underwear. Losing all self-control, you grab his length and take him as far as possible down your throat.

"Holy shit," he grabs a fist full of your hair. "Just like that." He throws his head back, moaning into the emptiness of the trailer. You quicken your pace, earning louder moans and involuntary hip bucking.

Eddie pulls your mouth off his cock, tossing you onto the couch, effectively trading your places. He begins eagerly grabbing at your shirt and the button on your pants, but you stop him. You place your hands on his and hold them still, contemplating.

"I mean, we don't have to do this. I don't want to keep you from doing what you were doing, but if we're doing anything, we might as well just fuck." Eddie's words fill you with the most confusing feelings, but most of all, lust. He's right, Billy's at Natalia's most definitely cheating on you, you'll probably be done with him after this anyways. Might as well fuck your best friend.

You wrap your fingers around the collar of his jean vest and pull his lips into yours. He instantly kisses back, nipping lightly at your bottom lip with his teeth. Each gentle bite is closely followed by sweet, breathy moans from your chest. Eddie melts more and more with each high-pitched sound.

Eddie continues undressing you, audibly aroused more and more as you become exposed completely. He bites his fist watching you slide your delicate hand down to play with yourself for him.

"Somebody's needy," he chuckles, watching you intently. You circle your middle finger around your clit a few times before plunging your finger deep inside you. You and Eddie moan at nearly the same time.

"Don't make me wait all night, Eddie." Your low, sultry voice forces his hand onto his cock. He strokes himself, eyeballing the way your hands move to pleasure yourself.

"I think you'll be okay, sweetheart. Keep going." He towers over you, his rough voice cascading down to you like boulders down a hill. You do as he says, continuing to touch yourself while he does the same. You start fingering yourself faster, gasping lightly as your orgasm approaches.

Suddenly, your arm is yanked away.

"No!" You cry, replacing the hand with your other one only for it to be yanked away too. He pins both of your wrists above your head, positioning himself at your entrance. Your orgasm is quickly dissipating with nothing to rub against your aching clit.

"Just... Wait... A little... More..." Eddie hovers over you, one hand holding your wrists, the other sliding the head of his cock up and down your drenched folds. You writhe and squirm, desperate for contact, begging him to fuck you already. "Okay," he smiles deviously before slamming into you, hard.

"Eddie!" You moan as he glides in and out of you, low growls rumbling from his lips. His guitar pick necklace dangles in your face, brushing against the tip of your nose with each impaling thrust.

"You're so God damn tight, Y/N." His words are broken up by small grunts as he fucks you. "It's fucking unbelievable" You can't help but smile at his praise, happily taking all of him despite the dull pain of being stretched out so abruptly.

"I never thought I'd be hearing you say that to me, Eddie. Gotta be frank." You joke, still getting dicked into oblivion.

"I did," he winks, picking up his pace. Your moans get louder and louder, the pit in your stomach doubling by the second. Sweat clings to the curls around his face, securely gluing them to his jawline. Still fucking you, he rises up straight and sheds his jacket/vest before nearly tearing the shirt off his body.

He returns to his position over you, never breaking his stride. Sweat glistens down his body as his back curves and arches as he slams into you. Your breath begins to hitch in your chest from your orgasm building up.

"Eddie, I-I'm gonna-" he cuts you off with a hard kiss. He throws your legs over his shoulders, hungrily grabbing at your thighs as he fucks you over the edge. You arch your back as the waves of pleasure shoot through your core. You drench Eddie's pelvis in the evidence of your arousal, but he doesn't stop fucking you.

Instead, he flips you onto your stomach. He grips the hair on the back of your head and pulls roughly to get you to assume an all-fours position. You follow his silent directions and he slips himself back in your fucked out hole.

"Fuuuuuck," he sighs as he slides into you. "So fucking good." He mewls out above you, fucking harder and deeper into your pussy with each thrust. You try to protest, tell him it's too much, but he buries your face in the cushion and continues chasing his high.

"Eddieeee!" You scream, suddenly cumming yet again.

"Shut up, just a little more." He huffs angrily, stone focused on the way your back flexes as you fight to hold yourself up. You're a weak, fucked out mess by now, still taking his hard cock. High-pitched whines and cries leak past your lips as he continues, very suddenly picking up his speed at the last second.

"Oh my God, Eddie please!" You cry into the cushion. He thrusts a few times more before pulling out and finishing all over your round ass. Your legs finally collapse and you're laying face down, hair a mess, covered in sweat and cum that isn't your boyfriend's.

"Holy shit," Eddie fights to catch his breath.

"Have fun?" That's all you can say through your dicked down haze.

"Yeah," he sighs. "A lot better than I ever imagined it." He chuckles.

"How many times have you imagined it?" You raise, quizzically.

"Lots and lots of times, Y/N." He shines his famous downturned smile and winks. You feel the blood rise quickly in your cheeks.

[spinster-sisters]

Hey honey can you do ateez reaction of their s/o wearing their boxers?

This got weirdly long.

Hongjoong:

Ah my main tsundere man. He will likely be outwardly kinda whiny about it. Like “babe, no don’t mess with my shit :(“ but it’s like so obviously just him whining for the sake of whining that you shouldn’t take it seriously. Like he could never actually stop you from doing it.

So imagining him coming over with food and sees you lounging in a pair from the collection of clothes he has left at yours and gives the fakest glare ever. But instead of acknowledging it you just take the tub of ice cream from his hand and walk back to the couch all smug and already digging in. And like, of course his eyes are trained on your ass as you go and of course your aware of that, but that won’t stop him from glowering any time you wear them. If he ever starts complaining all you gotta do is just hike them up a little higher so the bottom of your ass peaks out and it’s over for him.

Seonghwa:

On the exact opposite end of the spectrum he thinks it’s adorable right away. Straight up let’s out a full on “AWWWEEE” and you gotta be like calm down it’s not that deep. Sorry but he lives and breaths domestic shit and it gave him a heart boner.

Comes into your room just in time to see you slip them up your hips and just melts, “baby, i didn’t know you like wearing my clothes! Don’t worry, I’ll bring some more over! You can have anything of mine you want~” all in that one specific tone he uses when he’s being cute. “Seonghwa, no it’s fine, they were just around so I-“ “you must really miss having me around. Don’t worry sweetheart you will never have to wear anything else again!” he won’t hear otherwise, even if it really just was because they were there and all your sweats were in the wash he simply doesn’t care he will start bringing you piles of clothes and hey, your not complaining even if it was an accident.

Yunho:

Quietly smug. Just like, admiring from a far with smirk. May not even mention it. I feel like his general thought process is like “damn, that’s hot.” But he’s not to hung up on it, he knows it will probably happen again cuz you like his clothes anyway so he doesn’t have a supper exaggerated reaction.

So you just come wandering out of the bedroom having just woke up. Yunho is eating cereal or some shit. But when you yawn and stretch and your shirt rides up. Yunho noticed your choice of clothes last night before bed but he takes a moment to appreciate again. When you notice the sudden lack of eating sounds you turn to him and he’s just staring directly at your hips while grinning. Snapping your fingers to regain his attention his eyes fly up to yours but instead of getting shy he just offers you a lil wink before focusing back on his food.

Yeosang:

Is just mildly confused. Like he doesn’t mind or anything he just doesn’t see how that is somehow More comfortable that your own underwear. But he’s not complaining either.

“Why are you wearing those?” “Because their comfy, why do you want me to change?” As you ask you lift the edge of your shirt just a bit to give a better look. Yeosang goes silent, just looking at you very intently, mulling it over in his head for a bit before deciding that something there is definitely scratching an itch he did not know he had. “No, it’s fine.” He goes back to whatever he was doing but now his curiosity is peaked. Perhaps he later approaches just to pull the shirt up slightly again. For science of course.

San:

Giggly but also grabby. This should be no surprise, San is grabby with everyone and every thing. But with all that extra skin on display with his boxers as your only bottoms he is very happy to take advantage of it.

Throughout the whole lazy afternoon he is enjoying it. At one point coming up behind you slipping his hands under your shirt to rest on them hem. “Oh! What are these?~” he knows damn well he’s just being a shit. Later on the couch he pulls your legs over his lap and occupies himself by running his hands over your skin. “Need something?” “No why?” He replies with a deceptively bright smile. At the end of the day while your brushing your teeth he delivers a full palm ass slap and after your initial squeal and accusing glare he just pats your butt again and giggles on his way out. Insufferable.

Mingi:

Goes straight to his dick. No joke. Objectively he knows your not any more exposed than you would be simply wearing shorts but something about it man, it just gets him. Wether it’s the exposed skin or the fact that it’s his clothes or a combination of both he’s just like “fuck”

He had been actively ignoring that feeling all day simply because it was a lazy day and he didn’t want to ruin the vibes but as you climb into bed at night and take your usual place pressed against him he’s just like ‘fuck fuck fuck fuck.’ “Mingi?“ record scratch. “Yeah?” He replies, trying and failing to sound casual. “Do you need help with that?” You ask succeeding in giving off the same casual vibe he so greatly failed at mere moments ago. “ yes please”

Wooyoung:

It shouldn’t be physically possible to take that as a challenge but Wooyoung is no mere man. Fine if you get to walk around all sexy and shit he does too. Bare in mind you don’t know about the game he’s playing.

After disappearing into the bedroom Wooyoung comes back out moments later and this time without his shirt. “Why’d you take that off?” You ask, barely looking away from the tv. “Oh it’s just soooo hooooot,” he drawls and slumps back into the seat, dropping himself over it in the least natural way possible, trying to draw your eye. Nothing. An hour later he starts loudly working out in the corner, obnoxious groans and muscle flexing issues. Still nothing. Time for the big guns. Stands in front of your spot on the couch with his sweats barely hanging off his hips. “Could you help me with these baby?” He asks in the most suggestive tone he can physically muster. “Sure” you pull the drawstrings and tie them higher up on his hips. Damn your good.

Jongho:

Is another one who is more curious than anything else. Full on staring cuz he feels no shame about looking. But it’s a very analytical stare. Looks at you like he is trying to do mental physics.

“Is there something wrong?” “No why do you ask?” He shoots back without moving his gaze an inch. “So I have a bruise or something?” You ask, looking down to your exposed thigh. “No,” he replies, gaze still unwavering. “Do I look weird?” “No you look gorgeous.” He shoots back, still no change in his voice but you suddenly realize the reason for his staring. “Really? It’s just underwear.” “ I know that” “then why are you looking at me like that?“ “ I don’t think you understand, you look very fucking good” “oh”

[binniesthighs]

cherry knot | reader x ryujin

a/n: you may be thinking to yourself, ro! a gg fic?? how unlike you!! well, boy do i have news for you 😂 truthfully, i’ve always been toying with the idea of writing a lil somethin’ (esp for ryujin god i love her) so i thought why not! if this isn’t your cup of tea, that’s totally okay <3 those who do read, thank you so much for reading and i hope that ya like it hehe and let me know what you think of it! :D (thank you @dom--minnie​ for enabling me too ;) 

cherry knot | reader x ryujin 

🍒 Pairing: self insert, female reader x shin ryujin 

🍒 Genre: fluff n’ a lil bit suggestive 

🍒 Tags: friends to lovers, high school au (everyone depicted is 18+), all girls school au, high school crush!ryujin, shy!reader, confession of feelings, that good, good makin’ out, ryujin being flirty and smug as hell bc i love her, yeah this is just me gushing about shin ryujin, ro trying new things on the blog :) 

🍒 Word count: 2.9k 

🍒 CWs: mentions of food and eating reader included

The grass felt sticky and uncomfortable under your crossed legs, and when you swiped your hand against the skin, you could feel the indentation from the blades. Your knee-high socks felt itchy too; everything felt itchy. Even the cotton of your shirt felt like it was suffocating, and the bow tied around your neck which hung loosely should have hung even looser. 

To distract yourself, you plucked up the blades of green and tied them into knots absentmindedly. It was easier to pay attention to your idle hands compared to paying attention to her. 

Could she even tell that you were looking? Could she see out of the corner of her eye when she threw her cotton-candy pink hair behind her ear? Could she tell that you watched as she gulped down the lemonade and caught a glance at the peachy fuzz of her neck exposed by her collar? 

Stop looking. Stop looking. 

Your other friends tied up their hair in clips and with lazy hair ties to free their sweating necks from the sun. No matter the sweltering heat, it was always tradition for your picnic just before the summer vacation. One of them had brought a cake and each of the girls attacked it viciously with small forks and smeared bits of frosting on each other’s noses. 

“Come here!! You’re next!!” They beamed while launching themselves in your direction to dot your nose with the white cream. 

A flurry of high pitched giggles peeled out from each of you once another frosting victim had been dubbed. Your cheeks felt furiously hot knowing that she was looking; and that she was laughing along with the rest of them. 

“Awwww cute.” She adored with a smile that turned her dimples into whiskers on her cheeks. 

You quickly wiped it off with a handkerchief that settled into your damp hand.  

She’s looking, she’s looking…

The other girls pranced around the checkered picnic blanket in their white socks--undoubtedly painting them with green that their mothers would scold them for later. Their careless steps made a mess of the food wrappers and canvas backpacks that held down the corners of the thin fabric. The joyous cheers of the girls seemed to harmonize with the song of the cicadas in the trees; both sounds reminded you of the coming of the summer and the humid weather that makes the air dense. 

One of the girls brought out her phone and played loudly from it one of her favorite songs which she knew every word too, regardless of the fact that her tone was far from the singer’s. 

You and your friends never cared much for how others would view you. Even at school when you would march through the hallways arm-and-arm, others would stare at the way that none of you batted an eye at those who would glare. 

They were just jealous was all. 

“Be careful!!” You found yourself scolding, “What if you fall running around like that?” 

In response, your friends promptly stuck out their tongues in your general direction. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Ryujin coolly popped another cherry into her mouth from the bowl by her crossed legs. “If they fall, let them! It's funnier that way.” 

She threw a wink right at you, which you almost didn’t catch because you had quickly averted your eyes to become much more interested in the tiny tea-cakes. 

“You’re always worrying Y/n! Its summer!”

“I-I do not.” 

Ryujin chuckled in that way that always made you feel like your heart was just about ready to leap out of your chest. 

“Lighten up! Come on!” 

Before you could process it all, your friend patted down the wrinkles in her skirt and threw off her shoes. She rose, and neared your corner of the blanket with hands outstretched. 

“Stop worrying about things or if people are watching!” She scolded you with a cute and tiny pout, “Get up!” Ryujin wriggled her hands with emphasis to show you that you could take hold of them. 

“W-what…?” 

The other girls giggled on, hardly even noticing the two of you over their singing. 

You grabbed onto her hands, already loathing how damp your own felt against hers out of your own nervousness. She still held onto you tightly, saying nothing of them and helped you to your feet. Immediately she brightened once you played along and started to swing your arms in tune with the song. Your friend lip synced to the rap part and you felt just about ready to swoon from how cool she looked saying the words with ease. 

“Dance with me!! Don’t pay attention to people walking by or anything like that!” 

Ryunjin led you by the hand to the patch of grass with little white and pink flowers laced into it. You really did try to pay attention to dancing, but everything else seemed to be distracting even when you tried hard enough. She brought your hand up higher to spin her, and when she twisted, everything seemed to happen in slow motion: the billow of her plaid shirt, her rosy-pink hair which swiped just at her shoulders, even the way that the sunset melted behind her into swirls of sunburst yellow and vibrant orange. It was like she was all a part of it. 

“Your turn!” She said, twisting you too. 

You didn’t realize that you would have been as dizzied by it as you were, but when you lost your footing, she was just as quick to help you with her hands carefully grasped onto your shoulders. 

“You okay?” Ryujin asked, out of breath, but still genuine. 

“I’m fine!” 

Your knees wobbled with barely any strength to them, but you mustered every bit of confidence that you had to keep being this close to her. You surprised yourself when you reached back for her hands to continue swinging them between you. 

The other girls collapsed back onto the blanket in a pile of shallow exhales and airy laughs that they exchanged between them. 

“No more dancing, I-I can’t do any more…” One of them announced while leaning against the shoulder of another one of your friends. 

“I forgot! I brought this!!” One of your friends with pigtail braids dove deeply into her backpack and pulled out nearly all of the contents before finding the small cube-case which was decorated with an obscene amount of keychains. “My camera! We have to take some pictures so that we can remember this!” 

The other girls squealed in agreement and ganged up on her to fit into the frame of the white Polaroid camera that she had also splattered with stickers. 

“Here, I wanna show you something.” Ryujin drew your attention back to the blanket where she settled back down with her own bag draped over her legs. 

“What is it?” 

“Ryujinnie! I wanna take your picture too! Your pink hair is so pretty…” One of your friends cooed with a sad downturn to her lips, “I hope that you never change it.” 

“Hmm, I don’t know. We’ll see. My cousin has been saying that she wants to see what I would look like blonde these days.” 

The small talk didn’t concern you too much, you were more concerned with what it was that your friend had to show you. 

“I’m going on a trip with my cousins soon so we’ll see what happens.” 

Your friend sighed, and skipped over the mess of the blanket to pull Ryujin by the wrist to the walkway a little farther off. “You’d look so cute over here!” 

She pardoned her, and stumbled after the eager girl to let her take a Polaroid of her. Even from far away, you could still hear the two of them admire the picture with happy little expressions of “ah! I told you that it would look good!” 

The two girls returned, and you began to worry if your friend even remembered what she had said in the first place. 

What is it? What does she want to show me? 

“Shoot!!” Another one of your friends huffed out while looking at her phone, “I forgot that I have to tutor the middle schoolers today!! I’m late!!” 

The girls went to action in a mere matter of seconds sweeping up the picnic assortment and shoving the leftovers into their backpacks. 

You helped them and tried to look over to your other friend who didn’t return your glances. Perhaps she really had forgotten. 

You let your imagination run wild for just a few moments, although the more that you did, the more it all just seemed preposterous. Maybe it was a confession letter, maybe she had written for you one of those poems like she had liked to do, maybe she had rather wanted to talk to you about something...say something that you wanted to say back…

“I’m going to stick around.” Ryunjin said suddenly with her hands on her hips. “Y/n, you’re welcome to stay too if you want. We don’t exactly have to go home yet since the sun’s still up.” 

Your friends looked to you for your answer, to which you stammered out an, “O-okay…” The best that you could. 

“See you later!!” They called after with their shoes only half-slid onto their feet. 

You waved them off, but the farther that they walked away, the more the realization started to hit you that you were alone with her. The sound of your heartbeat echoed in your ears, and you calmed it trying to think about anything else but the fact that now her attention was truly undivided upon you. 

“You said that you wanted to show me something?” 

Your friend nodded, and patted the grass beside her for you to join her. She gathered up the small bundle of cherries left behind and positioned them into her lap. 

“I learned this trick a little bit ago and I wanted to show you!” 

“A trick?” 

She nodded, and plucked from one of the crimson berries a stem which she put directly into her mouth. 

“What are you doing?!” On the surface, it didn’t seem like the most sanitary thing to do. 

Ryunjin stifled a laugh and lightly hit you on the arm to chastise you. “Just wait a minute!” 

You watched in your confusion as her face contorted a little, and her eyebrows twisted like she was thinking. Her cheeks puffed a little too, and you could tell that she was doing something with it in her mouth--it was only then when you realized that you had been intensely observing her mouth. 

In your embarrassment you threw your eyes in the other direction, but it was no use one you heard her start to giggle at how flustered you had become. 

“It’s okay, you’re supposed to look.” She assured you. 

“What-what is it?” 

“Annnnd done!” Your friend proclaimed proudly and you struggled to meet her again without feeling like your whole face and the tips of your ears were burning up. 

Right on the pink of her tongue she had tied the stem into a tiny knot which she displayed proudly. 

“You...did that with your tongue?” 

“Mm-hm!” 

Your hands reduced back to their clammy state, and they found the grass between your own folded legs to find something to do. 

“That's...that’s pretty cool…” 

“I know right?!” 

Back came your friend's little dimples, and this time your chest started to feel like it was swelling with heat. 

Stop looking, stop looking…

“I can teach you how to do it some day if you’d like.” Ryujin’s tone dropped lower, and more serious in the way that some had thought to be intimidating. To you, there was nothing more that could make you feel the beat of your own heart more obviously. 

“Teach me? How??” 

The question felt like a butterfly in your lips, fluttering and ticklish, light and uncertain. You met her eyes the best you could; even though you knew that there was nothing about her that you didn’t already know, or that was threatening. 

Your friend tilted her head, inspecting you and the way that you could barely keep your glance away from her lips--stained just a little red from the cherries--then smiled. 

“W-what? What is it? Why are you smiling?” 

She sighed, and craned forward on one of her hands in the grass, bridging the distance between the two of you to caress down the side of your face, all the way to your jaw with the back of her fingers. 

“You’re just too cute.” 

“Hm?” Your chest threw itself up and down, and you could thinly feel the breath that tried to fill your lungs when she was this close. 

“I just can’t handle it any more.” 

“Me?” 

Ryunjin nodded, softening her eyes until they were nearly closed, and rid the two of you of all space, leaning over just so you could feel the weight of her chest nearly pressing into yours. At first, she placed the lightest of kisses into you, so light that it barely brushed against your lips, but merely imprinted upon them. She leaned back, leaving you with the ghost of a feeling of her upon you. It felt a bit unfair how fleeting it was, and how she looked at you like that: smug as ever, but as blissful as she always was. 

Your breaths tried to make sense of it all, if it had just happened, and what to think of it. As quick as it was, all you could want was to feel it again. 

“Ryu--” 

She cradled both sides of your face in hers, leaning in with more fervor and parting your lips with hers, leaving you to squeak from the sudden movement. You couldn’t figure out how to kiss back at first, or if you should hold her too. Your head felt like it was spinning in circles from your disbelief when you could taste the tiny tang of the sweet and sour cherries which lingered on her lips. She rubbed her thumbs into your cheeks, and angled you better to let her growing smile paint your own mouth from corner to corner. 

At last, you were able to find a rhythm which suited you, and you kissed her right back. She giggled at your stroke of confidence and the vibrations made your whole body tingle. Your feet had surely fallen asleep where you had folded them beside you, but the numb feeling of them dissolved once her hands fell to your shoulder where she held to you tightly. The pressure from the tips of her fingers made you shiver, and you too smoothed down the pink shine of her hair. 

The warm and ticklish feeling of her tongue grazed your lower lip where she changed her approach and deepened her kiss. The heat of tongues finally met in the middle testing and learning more of the other the closer that you became, and tiny airy gasps got stuck between both of your curiosity. In your lap, her hands found yours and they laced together and held tight; each digit wrapping the other and becoming one with the eagerness of her thumb rubbing little circles into the squishy parts of your hand. 

After the heat of your passion started to melt, you found yourself hiding your giddy laughter the best you could once she started to peck at your lips over and over until you felt like she had kissed you so close to the brim that you would overflow. 

“I said that you’re cute and I mean it!” She snuck the phrase in between a couple more kisses, eliciting you to fold up in your giddy embarrassment from the compliment. 

Ryunjin pulled away, and popped another cherry into her mouth from the bundle, then threw her arms around your shoulders. You simply let your hands rest in her lap covered by the plaid of her skirt; shaking from the release of the endorphins and the adrenaline. 

“Ryujin...I wanted to tell you that I’ve had a crush on you for a...really long time…” You shied, but she brought your chin back to look at her directly. 

“Good. Me too.” 

You couldn’t even process the combination of her words for them to make sense. White noise filled your ears, even though it should have been obvious from the way that she had kissed you like that. 

“Oh! Here. I wanted to give this to you too. Something to remember me by.” 

She reached for her bag, and pulled out a white-out pen from the front pocket. The Polaroid had faded into its full color, and she focused with her tongue peeking from her mouth as she wrote the message: 

see you soon <3 

- ryujinnie 

Over her head in the picture, she doodled a few hearts, then she blew on the ink to dry it. 

“For you!” 

You took the picture with your hands still thoroughly shaking, and all you could utter was a “thanks” while you took in your friend looking as gorgeous as she always was. You knew then that you would treasure the image forever, and the day which it was taken. 

“Who knows,” Ryujin started, and let her head fall to your shoulder where she nuzzled in, “This might be the last that you’ll see of my pink hair too.” 

You turned the picture over, already sensing how it made your heart feel like it was aching sticky and sweet, just like the cherries. 

~🌹~

Bunch of (Ro)ses! 

@minaamhh @dazzlehoseok @synnocence @jjewibeans @hyunsluvv @unexceptional-h @bobawithchaitea @lechanters @sailorhyunjinz @silencefavarchive @lunarskzzz  @yourdaddychan @bubblelixie @spnobsessedmemes @cherrychngkyn @iwanttobangchan @dom--minnie @waterthemoon @pastelracha @mistakensilence @hotgorloikawa @bowlofblueberries @lmhmins @eunaeiekim 

[backandimbamon]

Bonnie playing with Damon's hair and he all sleepy 😊

this really took a while because… i was going to stop at the first half but i wanted to consider Bonnie’s perspective (: and then it got a lil spicy and i was like *sigh* why must you always take it there? but i mean- 👁- i always take it there because we were robbed!!! Damon is practically a self proclaimed sex god and i hate how they separated Bonnie from her sexuality, or really any form of intimacy for sooo long. and the scraps we got were NEVER enough. okay anyways yeah i’m finally done, like let’s get into it.

Damon notices that Bonnie touches him sparingly and really not because she wants to but because it happens accidentally every now and then, one of the perks about frequently invading her space.

Being stuck on the other side, there is less room for her and more for him, she’s in his world now which means it’s his duty to make her feel as uncomfortably comfortable as possible.

He notices everything; how her cheeks turn red when their knuckles brush against one another’s, how she takes in an exasperated little breath when their shoulders touch, how she rolls her eyes when he stands entirely too close. Damon hangs on to these moments because this may be his only form of female contact he’ll receive for a very, very, long time.

That is the only reason he hangs on.

Anytime she touches him intentionally, he feels a pride swell deep in his chest that he’s liked by Bonnie after a rocky road of ups and downs, fussing and fighting, he is finally deemed worthy enough for her to care about him even if it’s brief, even if it’s the smallest skin to skin contact imaginable.

And yes, he cares because if he has to spend the rest of eternity with one person, they might as well get along.

Movie night comes around so he rests his head in her lap, testing the waters, to see how she will respond to him. He senses her tense up a bit as predicted, but then she relaxes into it breath by breath like she’s doing a tricky yoga pose.

Bonnie’s body lotion makes her skin smell edible- cocoa and honey- she’ll never know but that’s why he nicknames her Bon Bon, she always smells good enough to eat. At this point, Damon can’t recall the VHS movie on the block of a television, his focus has been robbed by Bonnie and this new form of contact she allows him to try. Half of his smile sinks into the cotton of her leggings.

Her eyes never leave the screen when she laces her fingers through his hair, nails surfing through tufts of raven-black and the gesture is so shocking and embarrassingly arousing that a strangled groan gets trapped in his throat.

She panics, and he can tell by the change in her heart rate before saying. “Did I hurt you?” He has to clear his throat to speak.

“Hmmm mm, feels good,” he mumbles feigning casual so she can’t realize how he needs this so so bad that he’s fearful of it being taken away. In his mind he thinks about what if.

What if she wakes up and decides she doesn’t want to tap dance on the line between what is and isn’t acceptable for two best friends. What if she remembers that he’s actually a terrible person who has done horrendous things to her and everyone she’s ever loved.

She shouldn’t like him or try not to laugh at his jokes. Not at all. Bonnie should’ve killed him a long, long time ago because if anyone could do it, it’d be her. He can see her now, all badass and angry with a wooden stake in her hand, vengeance in her eyes, the very last thing he’d see before his lights went out forever.

Bonnie, the giver and the taker.

Bonnie, the only god he knew.

Damon finds himself thinking so intensely lately that he checks the mirror more often than not to make sure he has no brooding lines like his little brother. Stefan’s expansive forehead has the room for it, his perfectly shaped forehead does not.

She laces her fingers back through his hair again and his eyes flutter, that’s how good it feels. It’s sensational. And while he’s had his hair pulled in and out of the bedroom, the innocence of her touch makes him want to melt. He finds his lids growing heavier, like how they used to do a century-and-a-half ago when he was human.

Running through dandelion fields in the overbearing Virginia heat, the sun up above sending heavy gusts of sunshine beams, a moment he considers to be oppressive now, used to be magical then- miraculous -and despite sweating through his britches and overcoat he never cared enough to stop running through the fields. The sun was the greatest thing all those years ago, back when white was his favorite color.

And after drawing a long, hot bath, he’d sink deep into the water while the bubbles floated to the top. Damon would close his eyes, hold his breath, see if he could break his prior record. Then he’d get out and the sleep would welcome him like any drowsy being, with open arms. And there he’d fall.

Bonnie has that affect on him. She makes him think of home, his past, when times were simpler and he was human.

He feels that exhausted sometimes, a boy who’s never stopped running through dandelion fields, whether it snows or rains or burns him alive. Her fingernails rake through his scalp- orange leaves on browning grass. Ruining Stefan’s piles for the fun of it. His lids droop. Tired of being consumed by himself, by Bonnie, he admits defeat this time. When he finally drifts off, he remembers that the Virginia heat gave him this same warm and fuzzy feeling inside.

“You really don’t know how good this feels,” his final words are hoarse before he drifts off but the last thing he sees is Bonnie.

The giver and the taker, the only god he knows.

.

Bonnie refuses to relish in the magic of the moment, the fact that it’s so rare Damon ever completely lets his guard down around her. She can always feel his eyes on her, constantly watching because Damon has a presence that’s inescapable.

Being so close to him when he’s extremely vulnerable makes her realize that in all facets, he’s stunning. A stunning that’s almost suffocating but with the dynamic they possess, he only needs to know that he’s not that much of an eye sore.

Now, she stares with wide eyes while she can, memorizes the smooth expanse of skin, every strand of dark hair. Relishes in the feel of his arms around her waist, the weight of his head in her lap. It’s been a long time since she’s felt a body besides her own and as much as she likes to ignore the fact, she has needs, needs that have swelled from being in the presence of Damon for too long.

He’s sexy without any effort, she examines. His dark t-shirt has risen and his pants are low enough that she observes the waistline of (silk?) boxers, taut muscle, navel, happy trail, yeah. Bonnie drinks him in like a cool glass of milk before bedtime- never has this much pretty been in her lap before. Her hands find their way in his head again, tousles through and he nuzzles up against her in his sleep. It’s difficult to pull her eyes away from him, but when she does, the credits are rolling on the screen.

This is Damon she’s thinking about like this, her best friend and also her first best friend’s boyfriend. She repeats it again, not satisfied that the guilt isn’t drowning her like it sometimes does when she catches herself lingering on his attractiveness for too long but Mystic Falls, the real Mystic Falls seems so far away. Elena, Caroline, Matt, Alaric, her old life just seems unattainable, no bigger than a memory she occasionally mistakes for a bad dream.

There’s no denying that being away from it all, here with Damon as the only other person in the world, she feels…safe. Maybe even protected, it’s a stark contrast from the real Mystic Falls where her life is always on the line.

Bonnie starts to get up when she feels his hold on her tighten to prevent her from moving away. They play tug of war for a bit but she eventually stops fighting because Damon is a vampire after all, physical strength is going to get her nowhere. “Fine,” she grumbles, then plops down which causes the end of her top to ride up enough that she can feel the press of Damon’s nose on the curve of her waist. Despite trying to inch her shirt back down, she has no luck. Naturally Damon doesn’t mind.

He inhales her skin deeply, makes a sound of approval before groggily muttering, “Going topless now, are we Judgey?”

She grabs his hair again, yanks his head back as a rebuttal, and Damon bites his tongue so hard that it bleeds. He has to ensure that all of the blood in his body isn’t rushing south too fast but unfortunately, he would have to sever both his arms completely off to stop the blood flow.

Bonnie realizes the dazed look in his eyes isn’t one of pain nor is it from sleep, “Not the reaction you expected, huh?” He asks, gesturing for her to look down but she doesn’t, she can’t. She’s embarrassed, and to make matters worse, a teensy bit turned on.

“You scared, Bon Bon? I thought you were big and bad,” Damon mocks, pulling between his legs to make more room in his jeans, “it’s okay. I know Jeremy left much to be desired.” He sits up with swirls of longing still in his eyes, then grabs a pillow to place in his lap.

“Scared?” She guffaws. “Of what exactly?”

“Me…You.”

“And that means?”

“You’re a smart girl, Bon, figure it out.” Damon taunts, holding her eyes with his. “It’s awfully lonely here.”

She says nothing for a while, refusing to break eye contact first. “So.”

“Soooo, I won’t tell if you won’t.” It’s almost a joke, almost because she has a feeling if she says yes to whatever sort of ambiguous proposal he’s thrown up in the air, there won’t be any laughter. If she says no, it’s no different from his usual innuendos but boy, will she wonder.

“Wanna take a walk on the wild side?” He asks in a singsong tone, eyes dropping to her lips then back up to her eyes.

There are no alarms, no cell phones, no one here that can interrupt this moment. She has to answer, though she has no idea what will come out of her mouth. Bonnie shuts her eyes to make the moment less real, as if it will change the fact that she whispers, “Just one kiss,”

They’re nose to nose when Damon whispers back, “a peck.”

She swallows his breath. “Mhmm,”

“It’s nothing,”

“Nothing.”

“As light as air,” he presses his lips to hers for a brief moment then pulls back again. “See.” He peppers more kisses on her lips, down her jaw, the side of her neck, but they’re heavier. They have a density now. His tongue is on the flesh of her shoulder, teasing up her neck. She feels the light imprint of sharp canines, arousal surges through her like a power circuit, so intense that she moans. When he makes his way back up, their mouths both open in a feral kiss that robs them of air.

Bonnie holds his face in place though he makes no attempt to move away. The pillow falls out from between them when he grabs Bonnie’s leg to straddle him.

It’s nothing.

Nothing separating them from attacking each other’s mouths, nothing stopping Damon from gripping his best friend’s hips, nothing saving Bonnie from discarding his shirt.

His skin is cool enough that she can stream together some thought in between relentless kisses. “Damon,” she tries her best to sound admonishing.

“Please, not right now.” Damon cuffs both her wrists behind her with one hand and plants a hickey just above her cleavage. She sees stars. He already knows what the inflection in her voice means- the timing couldn’t be worse.“Let’s save the guilt for tomorrow morning.” His tone is octaves lower, almost as low as his lids. He drags his eyes up to hers, and they’re so shiny she can see her reflection. “I need this, Bonnie. Don’t you?”

He doesn’t bother waiting for a response, just continues on with his ministrations, hypnotized by the pheromones seeping off of her in waves, wanting to memorize the scent with his tongue. She whines his name, like actually whines his name, and the feeling that sits in the pit of his stomach scares him. Bonnie is so oblivious to the appeal she carries but if she sat in his skin for a day, hell, for a moment, she would realize just how long she’s been driving him insane.

“We can’t,” she groans weakly. “We can’t.”

Damon tries to breathe easier, but that feeling is lurking in his gut. She’s right. The things he’d do to her, he’d break her in half. He removes Bonnie from his lap, separates from her warmth, her scent. Backs away until the tv threatens to fall off the stand. Everything in him tells him to go back, to reenter the magnetic pull, to poke at her forcefield.

He backs away even further if possible. Her breath catches at the distance.

Bonnie’s cheeks are flushed, warm and red like fruit. If she was an apple, she would have already been eaten down to the core. If she was a peach, it would be easier to explain why he ate her. He thinks to himself that he’s officially off the rails, comparing Bonnie to fruit like he is, but he’s trying to rationalize his irrationality. Because if Bonnie never stopped him, he’d definitely be eating something by now.

“Nothing happened.” She says, ignoring his expression and the silent plea in his eyes.

“Nothing.” He deadpans, throwing his shirt back over his head.

Damon thinks of how different things would be if he had his way. Bonnie, spent, drunk, high off of him. Bleeding and wild, pretty and dangerous, yelling for God. He would plunge Jeremy right out of her, help her find her magic again. Give her everything she could dream of. He gulps.

She doesn’t sleep with him tonight, not in the same bed. She’s on the opposite end of the boarding house when he hears her slide under the covers.

The next morning, he thinks to himself, if she even utters a word about last night, he’ll pick up from where he left off. But she doesn’t, her eyes are far away again, and the only proof he has of their adventures is the wonderful, purple hickey.

When movie night comes back around, his head is in her lap and her hand is back in his hair, running to and fro like him in his lavender fields.

That’s all he gets.

Every now and then, it’s enough.

Bonnie gives and takes, then takes away some more.

She’s the closest thing to God he’ll probably ever know.

[macro-collections]

You knew it was too good to be true when the frat guys of Alpha Kappa Omega invited you to their house for a “party.” You were definitely a likable and more or less popular guy on campus, but rarely were invited to the exclusive parties by AΚΩ.

When you arrived, the guys were all in their comfortable clothes getting a head start on the drinking games - your typical frat games like pong, flip cup, etc. Most of the guys wore sweatpants, t-shirts, sweatshirts, and a variety of sneakers ranging from well worn athletic type to much more maintained fashionable ones. Not exactly “party” clothes. You also found it strange that there seemed to be nobody from outside the frat there, but figured maybe you were just early. As you shyly walked deeper into the unfamiliar frat house, you get the strange sensation like eyes are locking on you as you pass, only to quickly look away before you can notice. As you examine the room, nothing seems strange. Just a bunch of super attractive college frat guys playing drinking games while consuming an exorbitant amount of cheap beer.

Suddenly, you feel a firm hand on your shoulder. You turn around to see Ryan, the guy who invited you here. His eyes were only partially open, a little bloodshot, and he had trouble standing, but somehow he still had a handsome look about him. He clearly already was several beers and a few hits on a joint in. “Duuuuuude, you made it,” Ryan says in a borderline obnoxious tone. “Yo, guys check it out - look whose here!” One by one the guys leave their respective games and start to make their way surrounding me. They all take their turns casually saying hi. The dull music in the background is upstaged by half-hearted “yo’s” and “sup’s.” As the not-so-genuine greetings go on, it seems the guys share glances with each other - almost like they were smirking to each other?

“Here you go bud - drink up!” Caleb, one of the other guys, says as he hands me a red cup full of beer. “Uh, thanks” I say somewhat weirded out by the whole situation. This is all new to me, so I figured what the heck, drink up and get the party going. Wanting to impress you new friends,  you decided to chug the full glass and crunch the cup in your hand. The guys look stunned and shocked as you do this. Their jaws dropped, they looked around at each other and began mumbling things to one another. You wanted a reaction from them, but this seemed to be a bit of an overreaction for just chugging one beer to be honest. Before you could think much more, your stomach feels a sharp stabbing pain and you keel over. You feel like you are going to be sick. Your body gets tingly all over, the same feeling when your leg falls asleep but everywhere. Your vision gets wobbly and dark. There is a ringing in your ear and then suddenly - black.

When you open your eyes, thankfully the pain and tingling is gone. Your vision has returned to normal, except you feel like you may be confused because you can’t make sense of what you are seeing. You see these massive multi-colored things roughly the size of cars moving around you. Stranger still, is that these “cars” have these long narrow things rising above them. If you were being honest, it looked like legs leading down to a sneaker but at that size? It just makes no sense.

“Woah! Dude, look - he’s so tiny! He’s, like, as small as a bug!” You heard one of the guys say, only it was impossibly loud and was seemingly coming from far above you. Then suddenly it all hit you - the tingling, the darkness, the “cars”with things rising out of them. Though it still didn’t make sense, you figured out what had happened - somehow you had shrunk to about 2 inches tall! Those “cars” WERE sneakers - the sneakers of the frat guys of ΑΚΩ! You begin to panic and want to run, but you look up and you see them all - all 10 of them - have you surrounded and are looking down at you. You’re going nowhere.

You hear the guys talking with each other. “Dude how is he so small? I thought this was just a simple prank where we make him just, like, chest height for a while so we could tease him a little. This is way more than that!” Ryan says. “Well I thought he was only going to take a sip! I didn’t expect him to chug the whole damn thing, bro!” Caleb retorts. The guys seem to be a bit concerned. “Let’s change him back and forget the whole thing” one says. “No way! He knows too much now - besides, he is too small to take the reverse pill now anyway!” Another replies. “Shit” Caleb says, noticeably frustrated.

“Guys, guys, guuuys. Chill, bros.” Ryan chimes in with his high-as-a-kite carefree tone. “You’re looking at this all wrong. See, you are seeing this as a bad thing. Where as I, see this as an opportunity. A f*cking awesome one. Dudes, we have our own tiny pet!” The guys all pause a moment, look down at you, and the mood in the room changes instantly. “Yooooooooo that’s sick!” One of the guys relies as the other join in on the excitement of the newfound situation. You can’t believe what you are hearing. PET?

“Ok, ok, ok, but who gets to keep him?” Caleb asks. “I mean, we all want him right?” The others nod. “Alright so I say we play a game of Kings to see who wins him. We will keep the lil’ dude in the middle of the table and whoever wins, gets to keep him. Deal?” The others agree, and suddenly Caleb’s massive hand is engulfing you and carrying you to the table.

The game starts and the guys all take their turns obeying the various rules and taking their respective turns drinking as the game dictates. You see guys staring at you at various points of the game. At one point, when the others weren’t paying attention, one of the guys, Austin, slowly reached his massive hand out and grabs you. His palms are soft, slightly moist, and his finger nails were well-trimmed and clean. His fist closes around you. He slowly pulls you down from the table, and holds you a moment on his lap. Then, acting as if he had an itch, he lowers you down to his grey high-top old skool Vans and slips you into the sneaker, pressed up against his black dri-fit socks and the interior fabric of the sneaker. Austin wore these sneakers all day and every day, so they had definitely been worn in. That was very obvious to you based on the smell, moisture, and heat inside of the sneaker. You could barely breathe, and even when you could, it was filled with the 20 year old frat guys foot stench.

The guys go about their game, almost forgetting for a while the whole reason they started playing in the first place. They clearly have not noticed that you are no longer on the table. In Austin’s sneaker, you manage to position yourself through your squirming to near one of the lace holes. You are able to use that to hoist yourself up and out of the sneaker. Finally, fresh air. Your joy is short lived however as a slight shift in Austin’s foot causes you to go tumbling on the floor under the table. You hear the commotion of the game above you, and you look around to see 10 pairs of sneakered feet. Nike Air Max. Jordan’s. New Balance 574s. Nike running shoes. Black low-top old skool vans. So many sneaker variety’s, all in various stages of wear. As the guys play their game, you had some near-miss encounters with the unaware giant's sneakers. In one instance, you're able to jump out of the way just in time before the dirty sole of a Nike nearly crushed you. Finally, the guys notice you’re missing. “Yo, where is the little dude?” One asks. “Shit, where is he?” You see the sneakers all spring into action as the drunk frat guys begin searching for you. All except for Austin who thinks you are safely in his sneaker. Finally, one of the guys peers under the table, locks eyes on you, and smirks. “Yooooo there you are little man!” He says. "What you doing down there? That’s a dangerous place for you, bro. Besides, you don’t want to be near our nasty fee-“ he catches himself before he can finish. He gets up and you hear whispering from the guys. Then, laughter, followed by a “let’s do it.”

The guys all return to their seats, but one by one they kick off their sneakers revealing their socked feet. Black dri fit, white dri-fit, low socks, high socks, clean socks, dirty socks, each guy had a different sock and different condition from the last. Once all of the guys had their shoes removed, they began to bring them in towards you. You found yourself in the center as these massive college socked feet close in. The heat, moisture, and smell begins to hit you. Suddenly, you have 10 pairs of feet each rubbing over you. You are passed around from foot to foot, rolled and pressed into each socked sole. The guys laugh as they feel you under their rank feet, and they just go about their game. This goes on for quite a while, and the guys get increasingly more drunk. Finally, the feet retract. You think they are finally done tormenting you, but you see that it is about to get worse. The socks are all coming off. Some use their toes to get them off while other reach down and peel them off with their fingers. Eventually, all 10 sets of bare feet are ready, and similar to before begin to close in around you. For a group of college guys, their feet are well maintained. Toe nails are mostly clean and trimmed, the hair on their feet is just the right amount, and their soles are smooth and soft with hardly any callouses. Though the smell and sweat is a different story. Also like before, the guys take their turns rolling you around under their bare soles, forcing your head between their sweaty toes, and adding just enough pressure to knock the wind out of you and maybe even crack a few bones. This goes on for about 30 minutes as the guys continue their game until you feel a set of toes curl around you, and slowly drag you out from the pile towards the frat dude that the toes belong to.

When you get to the bottom of the chair, you look up and see that you are at the feet of Blake, the frat President and arguably the most attractive and most popular guy on campus. Blake has short black hair, deep, warm brown eyes, and a chiseled jawline. He reaches down, picks you up and dangles you between his thumb and fore finger. You are above the table again. “Hey bro-ooos” Blake says in a teasing tone to his frat brothers. “Lookie what I’ve got.” Blake continues with a handsome smile, revealing his perfect white teeth. The others look towards Blake and begin to protest with a sporadic “hey!” or “dude, come on!” Some even reach out to try and grab me, but Blake just pulls me further away from them and laughs. As some get up to try and make their way towards him, Blake lifts you up above his head and sticks out his tongue. “Ah, ah, ah, - don’t come another step closer or else.” The guys pause for a moment and look at each other.

After a brief pause, a voice breaks the silence. “Do it.” Caleb is smirking as he challenged Blake. “He’s bluffing. He doesn’t have the guts.” Caleb says condescendingly. “Oh I don’t, don’t I?” Blake replies. With that, Blake lowers you and places you face first onto his extended tongue. The surface was soft, warm, moist, and smooth. You scream as Blake rolls his tongue back into his mouth, past the row of his perfect white teeth, and closes his lips sealing you in. He begins to taste you, rolling you around and sucking on you like a candy. To the guys outside, they can hear the sucking, slurping and smacking sounds as Blake tastes you. They see a lump appear in one cheek, and then the other. “Still think I won’t do it?” Blake manages to ask, with you in his mouth. “You’re really going to eat a tiny man? Come on dude there is NO WAY you will do it. 10 bucks says he spits him out.” Caleb continues his challenge. Blake simply clinched his lips into a slight frown as he shrugs, clearly trying to play coy with his buddies. Then, Blake closes his eyes, extends his neck some and takes one massive gulp. He swallows hard, and loudly. The guys can hear the *glllckkkk* even over the distant music. They see his neck muscles flex, even showing a slight vein on either side of the neck. His neck thickens as all of the muscles spring into action, and then his Adam’s apple goes up and down. Then, the muscles all relax. Blake’s opens his eyes, and then opens his mouth to reveal that it is empty. He moves his tongue around to show further proof. The guys can’t believe what they just saw - they buddy Blake just swallowed a tiny dude whole! They erupt into comments of disbelief. Blake looks at Caleb, smirks, and says, “pay up, dude.” The others laugh as they watch Caleb hand over a $10 bill to Blake. “Woah, I can feel him in there man. He’s f*cking wiggling around. It feels so weird dude!” The others try to listen to Blake's gut to see if they can hear anything. They all hear the typical sounds of digestion - gurgles and growls - but one swears he heard screaming too. After a few minutes of this, they all get bored and decide to keep drinking, more or less forgetting about you entirely.

From your perspective, you can’t believe you are in the mouth of a 21 year old frat stud. As he tastes you, you are surrounded by the smell of beer on his breath. His saliva drenched you as he rolls you around. The tongue works on you as you as it presses you against his cheeks, into his teeth, and against the roof of his mouth. It’s all disorienting. Though it is mostly dark, there is still some deep red light that manages to shine in through his cheeks. You hear some commotion outside. Blake speaks for a moment causing you to bounce around. You hear more talking outside, and then the tongue pauses, then lifts up. “Oh no. Oh no no” you think to yourself. In one fell swoop the tongue lifts up causing you to slide to the back of Blake's throat. You try to grab on to something - anything - but it is all so fast you don’t have the chance. You reach the back of his throat and are greeted by the uvula. You look up to the dangling muscle above you, and beyond it can barely make out the nasal cavity. The uvula quickly descends onto you and forces your head from where it is in a downward motion. You are now upside down, head first towards the esophagus. You see the flap sealing of the trachea allowing full passage into the esophagus. You barely have a second to notice this before your head is forced into the right opening. The muscles tighten suffocatingly around you, and pull you in a downward motion. You feel the uvula behind you nudging you along the way. The deafening, wet sound of Blake swallowing you surrounds you and you are on your way. You hear breathing and a heartbeat as you descend, finally being squeezed through the tight opening to the stomach. You land in a pool of beer in the stomach. The air is stale and humid and smells like old beer. The walls are slimy and wrinkled. They are already pulsating as it recognizes the new arrival of food. You do everything you can to try abs escape, yelling to Blake to let out as you do. You try and climb out, but there is no way you are getting out. Your skin starts to tingle and burn, the stomach walls squeeze in around you. Beer pours down from above splashing onto you. You hear gurgles and growls around you. More of the stomach juices splashes up from below you, burning you more. You scream. You are getting light headed. After about 20 minutes of this, you are barely conscious. Your last thoughts are "how could it end this way? Just as food for a college frat guy." Then, one final gurgle, a splash of acid, and pressure from the stomach walls, and you fade to darkness as your body disintegrates into a goopy ooze to be further digested as a soupy mix. Blake continues his evening with his buddies, and forgets about you all together until a few days later when he noticed the missing person poster for you. But by then, you and whatever was left of you were long gone.

[the-insomniac-emporium]

We Don't Talk (About That) [Cassandra Dimitrescu/Reader]

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language Warnings: None Summary: Affection has never been Cassandra's strong point- neither the giving nor the receiving of it. But when it comes to you, she's determined to try, regardless of the obstacles in her path. Notes: Spiritual sequel to Everybody Talks Too Much, but they can be read in any order. Reader is selectively mute, but ends up talking in this one, partially due to being high on a fever, oops. The reader in this one is also a lil bit sassier than some of my other ones, hence why it has tentatively earned my "blunt teeth sharp tongue" tag.

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“Seriously? You’re wearing white for this?” Cassandra says, eying you with a look of disbelief. All you can really do is shrug in response. After all, your hands are occupied with your current task: Wiping blood off of the corridor floor. That didn’t leave much room for miming, or writing anything down. “You’re going to fuck up your sleeves, you know that, right?” Another shrug, this time with an added humming noise, just for fun. Honestly, you weren’t even sure why Cassandra was hanging out, let alone why she cared if you got your shirt dirty. It’s not like she would be the one to do the laundry. More than that, she was the one who had decided to punish a maiden in the middle of the hallway.

Still, you would never think to voice your questions, or otherwise indicate your feelings. Not that you had feelings about her, or anything, the mere idea of that was ridiculous. For a completely unrelated reason you find yourself glad that she could not see your cheeks from where she stood. Glad I don’t talk, you think, otherwise I’d probably say something really stupid right now. Instead, you focus on your work, scrubbing hard at the floors. Despite your companion’s warning, not even a single drop of blood ends up staining your clothing. That’s why I rolled up my sleeves first, babe!... And that’s why I don’t talk, you think, shaking your head to clear your thoughts.

“That was fast. Sure you didn’t miss a spot?” Cassandra asks, stepping over to where you had cleaned. Before you can protest she’s leaning down to examine the floor. Which would, you know, be fine. If she didn’t have blood (and dirt, and who knows what else) on her gloves, that is. Groaning, you try to slap her wrist, temporarily forgetting your place. Next thing you know she’s pushing you to the ground, on top of you with her hand posed to strike. You flinch, instantly, clamping your eyes shut to prepare for the inevitable. But, just as quickly as she had gotten on you, she climbs right off, refusing to meet your confused gaze, refusing to answer your unspoken questions. “You’re lucky that mother thinks you’re useful,” she spat, leaving you with one last angry huff.

“What the fuck?...” You whisper, as soon as you think she won’t be able to hear you. Of all the things she could have possibly done in response… this was the only one you couldn’t justify. There’s only one thing that could possibly help you cope with your confusion: Cleaning. Thankfully, the same person who had just flipped your mind upside down had also left a few boot prints in her path. Humming softly to yourself, you get right back to work, gleefully ignoring what had just transpired.

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“Why do they do that?” Cassandra snapped, storming into the library, immediately demanding her older sister’s attention. However, Bela does not respond, merely looking up from her book with an eyebrow raised. Frustrated, Cassandra sits down at the table before slamming her fists onto it. At this, Bela sets her book to the side, realizing that she couldn’t ignore this tantrum. “Oh come on, you know exactly who I’m talking about!”

“Yes, I do, because they’re the only person you’ve given a damn about in a decade, maybe longer,” Bela replies, rolling her eyes. “But that doesn’t mean I have any clue what you’re complaining about this time. What did they do, hmm? Did they brush their hand up against yours? Make a heart with their hands again? Oh, let me guess, they smiled when you walked into the room.” At this point, Cassandra was nothing if not predictable, much to her own frustration. How often had she come to her sister, in confidence, to have this very conversation? Countless times, and never once with a clear goal in mind.

Just a head full of thoughts of you.

“They touched me,” she admits, after a few seconds of agonizing silence. The words feel heavy and wrong on her tongue, like they were coated in syrup, too sweet to be anything other than sickening. “Slapped my hand away like I was a kid sticking a fork in an outlet, for fuck’s sake! Who do they think I am?” Now those words felt better. Angrier- left a worse taste in her mouth, but easier to swallow.

“That depends, were you trying to stick a fork into an outlet? Sounds like the sort of thing you’d do to impress them,” Bela teases, laughing even when her arm gets smacked in retaliation. “Maybe you should just ask them, then, if you can’t fathom why they might touch you. Or you could simply wallow in self pity for another decade, pretending to hate their guts when really you’re desperate to get laid?”

“When did you get so rude?” Cassandra snaps, standing up with a scowl.

“Oh, probably about the eighth time we had this talk?” Bela replies, quick as a whip, smiling all the while. If she was going to have to endure this sort of thing this often, she might as well have some fun with it. But this appeared to be the end of this particular conversation, with a miffed Cassandra making her exit, once more leaving Bela to read in peace… for a while, at least.

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

She can’t find you. She’s looked just about everywhere, asked every maiden she’s come across, and all any of them had to say were nervous apologies. Where were you? Why were you absent, now of all times, when she had finally decided to speak to you? Curse my luck, Cassandra thinks, barely restraining herself from wreaking havoc on her surroundings. Though maybe they’ll show up to take care of my mess, she muses, then thinks better of it when she imagines your exhausted expression. After all, there was only one place left for her to look: Your personal quarters. If you weren’t there, then, well, there’d be a new problem entirely.

“They better have a damn good reason for hiding away,” Cassandra mumbles under her breath. Then she’s opening the door to your room, not bothering to knock. What could you want to hide from her anyway? “Oh shit.” Evidently she hadn’t thought this through. There you were, asleep in bed, shirtless, a washcloth on your forehead. Every muscle in your body seemed to be shivering, and the occasional weak murmur leaves your lips. It doesn’t take more than a moment for Cassandra to act. Clearly you’re cold, hence the shaking, regardless of how warm it feels to her. So she’s grabbing a blanket from your dresser, quickly covering you with it. “Is that better?”

You don’t respond. Not that she truly expected you to. But the way you continue to shake has her even more concerned, and a trace of panic starts to set in. She searches for other blankets, laying them on top of you, confused as to why you aren’t getting better. C’mon, asshole, she thinks, I’m trying to help you! As if summoned by her frustrations, a maiden soon swings the door open, freezing in place when they see her. Instantly she’s whirling around to face them, a cruel remark dying in her throat. Of course it was one of her mother’s favorites. Eventually, she would have to find someone else to take her frustrations out on.

“Lady Cassandra? What are you-” Cynthia, senior staff member of Castle Dimitrescu, veteran of more than five years, starts to ask. But once she spies the pile of blankets on top of you… well, her eyes go wide. “Damn it, my Lady, you’re going to kill them!” With that said she’s rushing forward, setting down a basket of who-knows-what on your nightstand, before quickly removing the extra sheets. Half confused, half furious, Cassandra stands nearby, unable to decide how to react. Perhaps noticing this, Cynthia is quick to explain her actions. “They have a fever, the worst one I’ve seen in all of my years here. They may be shivering, but trust me, their skin might as well be on fire.”

“I was just trying to help,” Cassandra defends, words rushing out before she can stop herself. Fuck, this was embarrassing.

“Clearly, and I don’t blame you. Let’s just be glad that I came to check on them, hmm?” Cynthia suggests, giving an oddly motherly (i.e. reassuring) smile. On one hand, Cassandra doesn’t appreciate being talked to like this, at least not by someone other than her mother. On the other hand, well, she is glad that she hadn’t accidentally killed you. Taking a moment to let her heart rate slow back down, Cassandra moves to lean against the wall closest to you. She can’t help but frown when she sees the way your eyes flurry about beneath their lids. What are you dreaming about? Is it a nightmare, she wonders, or something softer, like you deserve?

“Can… can I help?” She asks, voice hardly more than a whisper. It was too late to save herself from embarrassment, but it wasn’t too late to contribute to your recovery. Or at least that’s what she hoped. There’s relative silence for a few moments, as Cynthia thinks over her words, swapping out the damp washcloth on your forehead all the while. When she finally replies, she does not look up from her task. Always the professional.

“Stay with them. If they get worse, come find me immediately. If they wake up, try to get them to drink some water, and ask if they’ve been injured recently. I couldn’t find any wounds on them, but this mess reeks of an infection,” Cynthia says. Opening the basket she had brought in with her, she removes several bottles from within, examining their labels with a tight-lipped frown. “None of these will do shit- pardon my language, my Lady- if it’s an infection, but it should help them fight off the fever until I can get them some proper antibiotics. Well, until the Duke can, that is. Make sure to ask them if they have any allergies to medicine before you give them anything, and please read the directions. They only need to take one kind of pill, alright? I only brought a few kinds in case they can’t have certain ones. Is that clear, Lady Cassandra?”

“Crystal clear,” she chimes, only briefly looking away from you. It’s enough for Cynthia, however, and she leaves with a simple bow. Once more alone with you, Cassandra approaches, gently taking your hand within her own. “You’d better wake up soon. I don’t want to have to babysit you all day…” Doesn’t want to, but would, if that’s what you needed. Wouldn’t hesitate for even a second. At most, she’d make someone fetch her a book to read while she waited. Except… now that she glanced around your room, she found that there were some things to keep her entertained. Like your beloved notepad.

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

What do you mean? I don’t think she feels that way about me. Don’t be ridiculous, she doesn’t like anyone. Because I pay attention to her! It’s not hard to know what she does and does not appreciate, you just need to observe her. No, not like that, don’t be gross. Keep teasing me and my cheeks won’t be the only thing around here that’s red. Oh fuck off, fine, I’ll go talk to her, but you owe me one. Then the page ends, with the next two having been torn out. A few letters here and there are still legible, on what little remains of the missing pieces. Lov- and want her- and wish. Try as she might, Cassandra cannot find the rest of the pages. What had you possibly written that would make you discard all evidence? It’s not like anyone normally went through your notepad. Had you predicted that one day Cassandra would do this?

“Damn it, damn it, damn it!” She growls, dropping the object with an angry sigh. “Who the hell were you writing about? Who were you fucking talking to? Why won’t you wake up, you goddamn asshole?” Through all of her shouting, you do nothing but shake in place, shivering against a non existent cold. Several hours had passed since Cassandra’s arrival, without you doing so much as batting an eye. Slowly but surely, she was being driven insane, exhausted from worry and jealousy alike. Strange how the most obvious answer eluded her so consistently… Yet hope does not entirely abandon her, as eventually her tantrum manages to pierce the haze around your overheating mind.

“Shhhhhhh. Please,” you mumble, eyes still closed, hardly aware of anything around you. All you really knew was that someone was being insufferable. Hell, your fever was driving you wild, and you didn’t even think about the fact that you hadn’t spoken out loud in front of anyone for over three months. Later, after you recovered, you would be glad that it was Cassandra who finally heard your voice. “Inside voice, mhm? Sleepy time…”

“Did- did you just?” Cassandra asks, stunned, shaking her head as if it might make her realize she was dreaming. But no, this was real, and you really had just spoken to her. It’s enough of a shock to render her speechless for a minute or so.

“Thanks, babe. Need to sleep this off. Or… no, wait, I was supposed to tell someone something?” You ramble, trying to sit up, a hand instinctively going to hold your head. The washcloth falls off of you, and you stare at it in confusion. Before you can start questioning the nature of it’s (or your own) existence, you are distracted by Cassandra, who has traded her own perplexion for determination. Next thing you know, you’re quietly sipping at a glass of water. Exhausted, despite having just been asleep, you eye the nearby medicine with curiosity. “I’m… supposed to tell Cassandra something, maybe? Fuck, why is it so warm in here?”

“You have a fever, dumbass,” Cassandra replies, once more finding her voice, still too overwhelmed to process what’s happening. “Look, you have to take something for your head, okay? Then we can… then we can talk about your feelings all you want, okay?” Maybe she was being a bit presumptuous about what you needed to talk about. Or maybe she was just, for once in her life, being hopeful. Regardless, she presents the medicine to you, getting ready to ask about allergies. Before she can, however, you’ve silently reached for the Ibuprofen and started opening it up.

“This’ll do. For the head, not for talking. We don’t-” you pause to take the pills, gulping down half a glass of water with them- “we don’t talk about that. Feelings. Makes her get mad, and I don’t want her to be mad,” you say, shuddering a little at the thought.

“I won’t get mad this time. Besides, you don’t normally talk at all,” Cassandra replies, rolling her eyes again. Finally, for the first time since waking up, you take a good, long look in her direction. Suddenly you’re putting the pieces together, groaning in protest when you do. How had you not realized? How deep into this fever were you?... “Don’t tell me you just figured it out, ‘babe’? I’m amazed you’re functioning at all right now.”

“Fuck you, Cassie,” you snap, mostly teasing. If she wasn’t freaking out about what you had said, well, then maybe you didn’t need to say much more at all. “You’ll still like me when I’m awake enough to be too scared to talk, right?”

“Honestly?... I was hoping this would be more of a permanent thing,” she admits, refusing to meet your gaze as she puts away the unused medicine. “But I guess I can live with being the only one who knows what your voice sounds like. So don’t you dare fucking talk to anyone else, alright?” She’s joking now, too, sounding more relaxed than she usually was. Even with your body fighting against itself, you can’t help but laugh with her. Then she’s slowly sitting on the edge of your bed, next to you, watching you with adoration clear in her eyes. “You’re going to be fine, right? Because if you die on me, I swear I’m going to kill you.”

“With you as my nurse? I’ll be lucky to last the night,” you joke, pretending to whimper when she gives you a playful slap on the arm. “Nah, nah, I’ll be alright, just as soon as I get some rest. Probably. Maybe you should, uh, stay with me? Just in case.” Next thing you know, Cassandra is pushing you down against the mattress, placing a surprisingly soft kiss to your forehead. Then she puts the washcloth back on you, making sure it’s still somewhat cold. Without another word she settles in, leaning against the backboard of the bed, close enough for you to feel her warmth, but far enough that she wouldn’t risk raising your temperature. “Goodnight, Cass,” you murmur, before letting yourself drift back to sleep...

[soft--dragon]

Tree House Bros

Based on the headcannons some lovely people on discord and I discussed at an ungodly hour and I wanted to write something because the ideas we thought of were too adorable not to :D Jam and Anakin, this one’s for you guys ✊✊✊ Let’s goooooooo

Word Count: 1,964

Warnings: None

This is a SFW tickle fic, if you don’t like that then don’t read :)

Charlie wouldn't be ashamed to admit that he has grown closer to Tommy. The boy was the human embodiment of sunshine, putting up a facade of brashness but really being soft underneath. He loved physical affection from his friends, something Charlie had been ecstatic about finding out. Hugs, hair ruffles, cuddles, Tommy was always willing to accept them. Charlie also discovered that praise would make the boy glow happily, so he took it upon himself to make sure he complimented the boy whenever he interacted with him. 

Charlie once proudly swept the boy up in a bear hug, yelling "LOOK AT THIS CHILD! THIS CHILD IS AMAZING!" All the while Tommy was flushed red but laughing at Charlie's loud claims. 

Charlie adored the teenager he'd managed to get so close to lately, to the point where he considered him his little brother. He'd been careful not to outright say that however. Wilbur always got scarily overprotective of Tommy whenever someone dropped the sibling bomb. His was more terrifying than Techno when he was in 'Big Bro Wilbs' mode. 

Still, Charlie thought of himself as Tommy's brother figure, alongside the multiple other people Tommy had cluelessly managed to adopt as siblings. And being a brother figure means there are certain rules and requirements you need to meet. 

One of which is knowing how to deal with a sad Tommyinnit. 

Charlie had started developing what he liked to call a 'Tommy Is Sad' radar and found the boy crying underneath a tree. He'd done what any good brother would and pulled him into a hug, comforted him, then helped him fix the issue that was causing him to be upset. Once that had been cleared up, Charlie had looked at the tree they were sitting under and decided right then and there that this would be the spot for them. 

The look on Tommy's face when Charlie revealed the tree house sitting in the oak tree branches would be a forever treasured memory. He'd hugged Charlie tightly, on the brink of tears that he quickly reassured the older they were purely from joy. The treehouse became their official meet up area. Anytime they needed each other for comfort, to vent, or to just hang out, the treehouse was the place to go. It had a massive slime plush that worked a beanbag for them, a large fluffy rug covering the floor and golden lanterns hanging from the ceiling. A chest sat in the corner stuffed with snack foods and drinks, their favorites of course. The treehouse was a treasured place for both of them. 

One day, Charlie was talking with Eret, then suddenly went stiff as a rod. 

"Charlie?" Eret blinked, "you good?"

"My T.I.S radar is beeping" Charlie said, turning on his heel and scanning the land quickly. 

"Your...your what?" Eret asked incredulously. 

"My brother needs a hug" Charlie rushed out his explanation, his eye catching a red and white shirt a little ways away. "Bye Eret!"

He bolted straight towards the sight of the bright sleeved clothing, leaving a very confused and slightly amused Eret in his wake. Charlie quickly approached the small cluster of trees where he spotted Tommy, slowing down so he could scan the area carefully. After walking a little further, he finally found the boy. He was curled in a ball underneath one of the tall trees, arms wrapped around his knees tightly and shoulders shaking. 

"Tommy?" Charlie crouched in front of the boy, cautiously reaching out to the boy. 

The boy flinched at his voice, tightening his grip on himself. "G-Go away Charlie" his voice shook with the broken, scared request. "P-Please I don't want to s-see anyone right now…" 

Charlie's heart ached when he heard a choked sob, Tommy hunched in on himself as he tried to muffle himself. Charlie bit his lip, looking down at the teen worriedly. He was clearly distraught, 

"Buttercup, can I pick you up?" Charlie asked softly, praying the boy said yes. He desperately wanted to hold his baby brother close and never let go until his tears had disappeared. 

Tommy raised his head slightly and Charlie felt his heart drop. Tommy's eyes were red and brimming with tears, his lip dented with bite marks and cheeks streaked with tear stains. He took a shaking breath in then nodded, slowly uncurling from his ball to raise his arms out to Charlie. The man gently looped the boy's arms around his neck and hefted him up. He held Tommy close who instantly pressed his face into Charlie's neck, taking in shallow breaths.  

Charlie's worry spiked further and quickly made his way to their treehouse. If anywhere could help the boy calm down it was there. 

Charlie was more than grateful they installed a pulley lift as the way to get into the treehouse. He gently set Tommy down on the large slime plush, placing his hand on the boy's head and brushing his thumb over Tommy's hair. 

"I'll be right back, gonna get you some water and snacks okay?" 

Tommy only nodded, curling in on himself again, sinking into the plush. Charlie dropped down to the chest and took out some cookies and water, quickly returning to his brother. Tommy was trying to dry his tears, only causing them to spread across his already stained face. Charlie dropped down in front of him, taking out a washcloth from his inventory. 

"May I?" He asked gently, holding up the cloth. 

Tommy studied it for a moment then nodded slowly, lowering his hands from his face, sniffing. Charlie placed his hand underneath Tommy's chin to tilt his head up. With gentleness only a brother could possess for his sibling, he carefully washed the tears from Tommy's face, apologizing softly when Tommy flinched slightly at the coolness of the damp material. 

Once Tommy's face was cleaned, Charlie offered him the water and cookies. They sat silently, Charlie keeping some distance between himself and Tommy in case he wanted space. Tommy nibbled on the baked goods, sniffing occasionally. 

"Are you gonna be okay?" Charlie asked quietly. 

Tommy swallowed his mouthful and flicked his slightly bloodshot eyes over to Charlie. 

"Yeah...no...I don't know…" he mumbled, subconsciously making himself smaller. "I don't know why I just broke."

Charlie looked at him sympathetically. "Some things can just pile up sometimes, it's nothing to be ashamed of Buttercup, it happens." 

Tommy smiled a little at the nickname but it disappeared as soon as it came. "Yeah it just never usually happens to me." 

Charlie watched his brother for a moment then opened his arms, holding them up. "C'mere." 

Tommy shuffled into the embrace, clinging to Charlie tightly once he leant against the older. Charlie wrapped the boy into his arms, holding him securely and firm but with the warmth and love Tommy deserved. 

"It happens to everyone Buttercup" Charlie reassured quietly. "It doesn't matter if it's common or not, breakdowns tend to sneak up eventually and it's healthy to have a bit of a cry every once and awhile." 

Tommy squeezed Charlie to him, nodding into his shoulder. "I don't like it though."

"And that's okay, I'd be a little concerned if you did" Charlie promised, then smiled and put on a Texan accent. "Have to lock ya up in the old prison cell for liking da breakdowns aye mate? Lil bit coo coo in the nogan for that one if ye ask me." 

Tommy giggled slightly into Charlie's shoulder making the older internally coo. The boy's giggles were the sweetest things you could hear. 

"What's got ya giggling like a hyena Tommy? Was it something I said? Nothin' funny about being thrown in yee ol' cell is there?"

The reply only got Tommy giggling more which in turn made Charlie chuckle. 

"Oh no! Seems I got a case of the giggles too! It's an infection! Tommy you're spreading a giggly disease! This is terrible! I must find a cure before it takes over the server!"

He gently spidered his fingers over Tommy's stomach and lower belly, grinning at the muffled squeal Tommy gave. 

"I think I've got it Tommy" Charlie began dramatically, "I think the cure is to tickle all the giggles out of you."

Tommy's laughter went higher at Charlie's words. "Nooooohohohoho" he groaned but his light hearted tone peppered with giggles let Charlie know he was okay. 

Charlie kept it relaxed and gentle, wanting Tommy to feel comfortable right now. Though he wanted the boy to laugh, he didn't want to exhaust him further by wrecking him. He gently pulled Tommy's back to his chest, hugging him from behind and softly scratching around his lower belly and sides. Tommy melted into the tickles, tipping his head back to rest against Charlie's shoulder as giggles spilled from his lips. 

"This okay?" Charlie asked, running his nails over Tommy's stomach. 

Tommy's giggles picked up slightly, sinking further into Charlie's chest. "Yeheheah" he murmured, "fehehehels nihihihice." 

Charlie felt his heart melt at the boy's words. How could one teenager be so cute?? 

Charlie massaged his fingers into Tommy's ribs, smiling when he squeaked through his giggles. He pressed into the divots and muscles of his ribcage, chuckling as Tommy squirmed against him. 

"Lehehess plehehease" Tommy pressed out between his heightened giggles.

Charlie complied instantly, moving back down to the sides of Tommy's stomach, wiggling his nails gently. Tommy melted into the touch, giggles calming again. 

"Thahahanks" he smiled up at Charlie. 

Charlie nudged Tommy's head with his cheek. "Of course Buttercup, only gonna do what makes you comfortable."

Tommy flushed slightly and a warm feeling blossomed in his chest at the genuine consideration for his feelings. Instead of answering he pressed his face into the crook of Charlie's neck, trying to hide his red cheeks. Charlie seemed to catch it however and cooed. 

"Naww, gotten a bit pink there Buttercup, you are so precious."

Tommy shook his head. "Nohohoho" he groaned, "I'm not." 

Charlie chucked, Tommy able to feel it rumbling from how heavily he was leaning on Charlie's chest. "I think everyone on the server would disagree with you on that one Buttercup, but whatever you say." 

He took a hand from Tommy's midsection to run it through the mop of curls on Tommy's head. Tommy arched his head up into the touch like a cat, a content hum emitting from his throat as his eyes fluttered closed. 

Charlie smiled at the sight. "Sleepy Buttercup?" He asked softly. 

"Mmmm" Tommy slurred, cuddling closer to the older. "Sleepy time?"

"Of course, I'll be here when you wake up" Charlie promised. 

Tommy smiled softly and nodded. "Okay...night Big C..."

"Sleep well Buttercup." 

It was a peaceful silence for a few minutes. Tommy leaned further into Charlie as his breathing evening out. His previous crying episode tiring him out and the gentle tickles easing him into sleep. Charlie kept gently carding his hand through his hair, messing with the blonde curls. 

'Suck it Soot' Charlie thought with a fond smile, 'bet you've never seen Tommy like this before.' 

Charlie opened his communicator and sent through a photo of Tommy sound asleep against him to Wilbur.

Pollen Boy

*Image file*

Hehehe look at himmmmm

He's so sweet Wil no wonder you adopted him as your little brother

Wiblur Scoot

Stop stealing Tommy Charlie >>:(

Pollen Boy

No <3

Wiblur Scoot

He's meant to be my Tommy

Pollen Boy

Sharing is caring Wil

Wiblur Scoot

He's my little brother

Pollen Boy

I like to think he's our little brother :D

Wiblur Scoot

Don't even think about it

Pollen Boy

Too late

I'm gonna get us matching hoodies

Wiblur Scoot

d o n t u d a r e

Pollen Boy

:3

I'm gonna get him socks too

Wiblur Scoot

CHARLIE NO

[ozzy-bozzy]

Hey.. can I request something again? if you’re not too busy? I’m hoping I can request headcanons for the sk8 characters (Reki, Langa, Miya, Cherry Joe) about asking for them to use preferred pronouns I go by he/they (you can keep it gender neutral if it’s more comfortable) I need a little comfort because my family are not accepting I hope this some makes sense 😅

Hello my love! I hope you enjoy this, I'm a lil tired rn so im sorry if it's not the best :,) ((also why it might seem kinda short, there's a handful of characters and I'm sleeby))

If you ask Reki to refer to you by different pronouns he might take a second to process what you’re asking him, but once his brain stops lagging he’ll jump on it

He could see how uncomfortable you got when he just sat there staring at you but assured you he was just slow

He would constantly make an effort to not only correct himself but also others around you

And if you just tell him that you want to test out new pronouns, he might trip up a few times but he’s learning!

Will be very flexible with whatever you’re feeling, just have to tell him!

He just wants you to be comfortable and happy

And will do anything he can to make that happen

Please let him know what makes you more comfortable because he’s more than happy to provide for you

With Langa it’s like a switch flips in his mind

He hardly ever mixes up your pronouns and just automatically goes with whatever you asked him to call you

He gets so used to it when someone refers to you by your old pronouns he gets confused for a second

Langa’s become so opening and comforting for whatever you’re feeling he’s the first person you come to to open up about different thoughts you may be having

IT could be the first time Langa is faced with these different concepts, but he thinks they’re pretty fundamental and not hard to understand at all

If you tell him about people being rude and ignoring your feelings he doesn’t really get mad, he just gets so confused

People are confusing and that hurts him

He doesn’t understand how people could so blatantly ignore how you’re feeling

Will just rant to you and it’s the exact way you’re feeling so you just aggressively agree with each other and it usually ends with you two in a pile of giggles

Miya will act like he doesn’t really see it as a big deal

Honestly, his dismissive nature is almost comforting because it’s a weight lifted off of you and he’s so unbothered there’s no reason to be worried about how he feels

Will totally defend your honor and stand up for you when other people are disrespecting you and your choices

Always is up to hang out when you need to get away from your house

He might act like nothing bothers him but he does get genuinely upset seeing you upset

Is way better at comforting you than you thought he would be

If you ever get nervous about correcting or telling someone about your preferred pronouns you don’t even have to tell him he’s already prepping to tell them himself

Catboy is here to defend you and your feelings against even the most ignorant of people

When you tell Cherry you would like to go by different pronouns, he’s more than happy to oblige

Will encourage you to not care about what other people say about you, says something like how “they don’t matter enough for you to let it hurt you”

He will absolutely watch out for you and also teach you to hold your head up high and proud

Cherry would be so proud of you, even for just telling him something like that about you

He knows talking about that sort of thing can sometimes be hard for people, and is more than happy to show how proud he is of you

Will help you sneak out to have dinner with him and the others or to take you to skate with them just to get out of the house

If you ever get nervous about telling your family something he will coach you through everything, your approach, composure, and even your tone of voice

He’s there to help and support you in any way you may need

Joe might make some jokes after you ask him to refer to you in your preferred pronouns, but just to lighten the mood a bit

He definitely doesn’t like to see you upset or anxious so he’s gonna do what he can to make it all better and make you smile and comfortable

Joe is a safe space, so being with him will just make you feel instantly safe and protected

He’ll offer to take you out to get some food or boba or something to help get your mind on something else

Joe gives the greatest hugs and you can’t convince me otherwise

He’ll give you a hug for as long as you want if you ask him to

If you come into his restaurant while you’re looking down or seeking some comfort he’ll whip up some food for you and will let you rant to him about whatever you want while he preps different orders

Definitely lets you stay after hours and talk with him

[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.”