#and basically all but call me a bitch to my face for no fuckin reason whatsoever

[neganium]

sometimes I worry that I'm asking for too much money for my services, but then I actually look at what I'm asking for and am reminded that, oh yeah, I'm probably not asking for enough!

[faeridollz]

HIDE N’ SEEK

“Just wait you can’t hide from me!!”

Pairing; retired!price x yan!reader

summary; he’s an idiot to think he can just break things off, skip town, and not explain why. So like any crazy bitch “sane” person would, you came to take him home!. ^^

Warnings; obsessive/crazy reader, breaking and entering, knife play, non-con/ basically rape, smut, drugging, kidnapping (pricenapping?), DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, use of y/n, your stronger than price only because of his injury lolz.

ˏ ˋ°•*⁀➷ GLASS SHATTERING IS INITIALLY WHAT WOKE THE POOR MAN UP, Price’s phone hot from all the messages and calls you sent him prior. He sat up, barely dressed and physically defenseless due to an old mission that caused him to retire early. (it messed him up BADDD yall 😔)

Your feet drag and click on his wooden floors, crunching on the sliding door glass you had just shattered with a hammer. Tossing it to the side. “Babyyy!!~” you whine, staggering into his house. Who cares if you were a bit drunk? You just wanted your love to come back to you and you’re so lucky he never found that tracker you put in his Car. A knife in your other hand as you roam around the first floor of his lovely 2 story house, rudely entering the guest rooms and knocking things over.

“Shit..” price grunts, quietly moving through the house and trying to find somewhere to hide or something in hopes of finally escaping you. That’s the whole reason he moved so far away from everyone after retirement. Because he had caught you in the act of killing his ex-coworker. He knew you loved him. You just loved him too much and took everything too hard- *creakkkk..* he paused, of course, you heard him walking around. If it were a normal situation he’d probably praise you for your good hearing, but his heart sank so deep when he heard you coming up the hall. His face formed into a grimace at the click of your boots on his hardwood floor

You round the corner, smiling ear to ear when you see him looking at you from the end of the hall. “Price!” You gasp. rushing to him knocking him over, straddling his lap. “Y/n- get off me!” He struggled, grabbing at your wrists and waist, trying to push you off. “H-hey! Stop struggling!” You grunt, your thighs tightened around his hips. Your hands instinctively grabbed his wrist, gripping them and breathing heavily. “Get off me ri’ now y/n!” He sneered, and you wince. Why was he so mad? Isn’t he happy? He used to call you his pretty baby so why is he so mad all of a sudden? Your stupid brain couldn’t comprehend why he was so angry at you :(

“Aww c’mon baby!! M’ missin' you so much!! And we finally reunited and you yell at me?!” your bottom lip starts to quiver, jutting out in a soft pout. “You’re fuckin’ crazy! You break in m’house after I tried so fuckin’ hard to get away from you and you’re taking the innocent route?! Get tha fuck out of my house y/n!” He yelled at you, did he not understand? Did he not get that you did all this for him? That’s fine. You’ll just have to make him understand. You’re barely thinking straight when you inject the sedative you pulled out of your bag into his thigh. It’ll be okay right? He’ll understand soon, right? Right?..

Your basement is cozy, to say the least. Due to parties, sleepovers, and just the need to make everything cozy in your house. The chair price is tied up with chains isn’t so bad either would be better with no fucking chains. You sit in front of him, in his favorite sleeping gown waiting for him to wake up. Did you accidentally kill him? Was it too many sedatives? Was the viagra pill you slipped into his mouth too much

Snapped out of your head by a groan, you're happy he’s alive and you’re even more happy to see the tent in his pants. (You had to dress him before you dragged him over to your house because of the toll station on the highway. It would’ve been a bit weird to see a woman with a technically naked sleeping man in her car right? ^^) God do viagra pills work wonders :)

“You up baby?” You hum, smiling at his drugged-out expression. He can’t even really bring himself to respond, it’s pathetic really, but you love it so so much.. “y-y/n.. fuck.. what d-did you do..” price tries to move, but he’s stopped by the chains that forced him to stay in the seat. “Nothin' too bad.. I’d never hurt you!” You pout.

He should’ve known. He should’ve known you’d leave him overstimulated and use him until he said he’d stay with you, gritting his teeth to hold back moans, he didn’t want to love you. But how could he help it? He used to think he’d marry you before you slipped up and killed someone.

You whine and squirt all over his meaty length, legs shaking as he cums deep inside your fluttering pussy. Maybe when you have his baby he won’t leave you again ^^

I don’t really like this one guys 😣

[rfxiii]

(posted this on ao3 cuz my stuff tends to get a little bit more traction there lately, and forget to post it here. this was basically a short one-shot to explore a little of the, slightly toxic, dynamic between my oc, Riley Ramos, and Brad. but I wrote in second person pov, so I thought I’d post it here 🤷🏻‍♀️)

12 Fractures

TW:Smut, toxic relationships

[You’d been in a sort of situationship with Brad for a couple months now. And just like it had been for the past two years you’d known each other, you had your good days and your bad days. But after a day like today, you can’t help but feel that sometimes you’d both be better off dead. It’s the only way you’d ever be able to leave each other alone.]

“Ya know,-.. Sometimes I think they’d be better off if they just killed each other..” scoffs Michael Townley- watching the unfolding argument in the bar parking lot.

“They’re freaks. This is like foreplay for them. Guarantee they’ll fuck about it later.” muses Trevor Philips- snickering to himself as he leans against the car beside Michael and watches with the amusement of a person watching a trashy reality show.

“You are such a fucking asshole!! I was just talking to the guy! You didn’t have to punch him! We looked like fuckin’ trailer trash psychos in there!” you scream- standing a distance away from Michael and Trevor as you unknowingly provide half the entertainment for the watching duo.

You’d been in this “situationship” with Brad Snider for months now. And while he’d never man up or admit to wanting anything more from you than sex, he just couldn’t control his violent tendency for jealousy- taking out that anger on any other man who looked at you just a moment too long. He’d scare off completely innocent men and guys you were genuinely interested in, he’d talk down to you, you’d scream at him, you’d even come close to slapping him a few times. But at the same time-.. At the same time he could be such a sweet talker, he could be charming when he wanted to be, and fuck if he couldn’t make you feel better than any other man ever had. You hated him at times, and you were sure he hated you too. But you just couldn’t let him get too far away.

“News flash, sweetheart! We are trailer trash! And I wouldn’t have hit the fuckin’ guy if you weren’t practically fucking him with your goddamn eyes all night, you fuckin’ skank!” Brad fires back- giving you a taunting sneer like he’s speaking to a child he thinks is stupid.

“Oh, fuck you!! You’re such a piece of shit, Brad! You don’t get to call me a fucking skank after the way you fucking snuck off with that goddamn stripper in the last town! You’re lucky you haven’t caught something, you fuckin’ whore! I hate you!” you shout back- the palms of your hands slamming as hard as your body can manage against Brad’s broad chest.

“And I fuckin’ hate you too, baby! Only reason you’re still around is cuz you’re decent in bed!” Brad mocks, a cruel grin twisting his lips as he catches you by your wrists.

You let out a growl of frustration, fighting violently as you can to free your wrists and throw a punch despite knowing how overpowered you were by him,“Let me go! Get the fuck off, shithead! I just wanna go back to the motel! I’m sick of your ugly fucking face!”

“Then fucking go! I’m sick of hearing your goddamn, annoying ass voice, bitch!” Brad snaps back- releasing your wrists harshly.

“Fuck you!” you scream- taking off on foot back toward the motel you were all staying at, a plume of wispy air in your wake as the chill makes your breath visible while you curse Brad under your breath.

“Fuckin’ bitch..” Brad mumbles, stomping back toward Trevor and Michael with an aura of chaotic rage swirling around his person.

“That went great.” Michael comments with a snarky roll of his eyes- earning him nothing but a hatful glare from Brad before Trevor is cutting in.

“Sooo,- Since you got us kicked outta that bar, what’re we doing now?” Trevor huffs with hands shoved in his pockets.

“Fuck it. There were like three fuckin’ clubs up the road that bitch didn’t wanna go to. Let’s go.” Brad huffs, stalking past Trevor to get into the car.

“Well,- At least they didn’t kill the whole mood tonight like they usually do.” Trevor shrugs as he climbs into the car- leaving Michael to wonder how the huge argument didn’t kill the mood, in Trevor’s opinion.

You spend the night alone, sure he’s not coming back tonight. And it’s almost four in the morning when a heavy knock erupts through your motel room door- jolting you a bit in surprise as you’d spent most of the night sulking and watching crappy cable tv. You already know who it is, and as much as you want to just ignore the knocking, you know it’ll only make the subsequent argument worse if he’s still in a bad mood.

With a heavy sigh you push open the door and look up at Brad with a cool, neutral gaze to keep from starting a fight with just your expression, “What?”

“Shut up.” is the only response you get as the door is forced fully open and Brad is quickly ripping you off your feet- forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist while he slams the door behind him.

“Ah.. So, it’s like that tonight.” you think to yourself as you taste alcohol on Brad’s lips while the blond pulls you into a harsh kiss and shoves his tongue into your mouth.

“Fuck, baby.. You know I don’t mean to yell at you.. You just fuckin’ piss me off sometimes..” Brad mutters between kisses as he carries you to the bed, “And the way everyone looks at you.. They all know how fuckin’ hot you are.. Shit pisses me off.. You’re fuckin’ mine..”

You stay quiet, knowing this was the only form of ‘apology’ you ever get from Brad- but it is what it is, and secretly, it was what kept you around. You liked the fighting and making up just as much as Brad did. Maybe you were both just crazy trailer trash- but if you were, at least you were stuck with each other.

And while you’re so caught up in the way Brad grips your hips and his teeth sink none too gently into your skin, Michael and Trevor begin to wish they’d stayed out just a little later. Rhythmic, violent thumping echoes through the room as Michael and Trevor lay in their motel room and try to get to sleep in the early hours of the morning- having not had a moment of peace since they’d gotten back.

Clothes scatter about the room, and he pins you none too gently to the bed. And as the hot blood rushes to your cheeks from Brad's rough bites to your throat, you find yourself responding in kind, nipping and sucking at his neck and collarbone. His grunts of pleasure vibrate against your lips when you drag your nails down his skin, and the sound drives you wild. You arch your back, pressing your hips against his, wanting him deeper, harder. He meets your frantic rhythm, thrusting into you with a rough urgency that matches your own.

Your room spins, the cheap motel walls blurring together as you lose yourself in the sensation of being so thoroughly claimed. The scent of sweat and sex fills the air, and you can feel the headboard slamming against the wall behind you with each powerful stroke. The world outside this room fades away, leaving only the two of you in this small, intense bubble of passion and need.

But as you glance up at Brad's face, caught between pleasure and pain, desire and anger, you can't help but wonder what will happen next. There are so many layers to this relationship, and you never know which one will surface at any given moment. Sometimes, you think you’re the perfect couple: inseparable, but always ready for a fight or a fuck. And then there are times like this, when you wonder how much more of this you can take before it all comes crashing down around you.

You try to push the thought aside as Brad's hand finds its way between your bodies, teasing at your clit. His touch is rough and demanding, and you can feel the familiar tightness building low in your belly. You moan his name, urging him on, needing him to make you feel this way, to make it all go away, even if only for a little while.

As you near the brink, you arch your back off the bed, your fingernails digging into his shoulders. His answering growl sends shivers down your spine, and you explode around him, your body shuddering with release. He follows you over the edge, thrusting deep one last time as his own climax washes over him in a wave of pleasure and pain as he spills his hot release inside you.

Collapsed together on the bed, you take a few moments to catch your breath, the rhythm of your heartbeats gradually slowing to a normal pace. You feel dazed and sated, but there's still a lingering unease in the pit of your stomach. You can't help but wonder if this was just another fight, or if this time something really had changed between you.

"You okay?" Brad asks quietly, nuzzling into your neck. He sounds almost hesitant, almost uncertain. You can feel the tension easing from his body as he draws circles on your skin with his fingertip.

You sigh and close your eyes, taking in the comforting scent of his sweat and skin. "Yeah... I'm fine. Just... thinking."

He kisses you softly and pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around you. "Don't think too much. It’s all good, babe. Don’t ruin this.."

You nod against his chest, unable to find the words to express how much you want to believe him. But for now, in this moment, with Brad's strong arms around you and his heartbeat thundering in your ears, everything feels all right again.

***

“It’s finally quiet..” Michael groans in exasperated relief, pulling the pillow from over his ears.

“Well, thank fuck for that! I love a good angry fuck- but that’s all those two do.” Trevor huffs, glaring at the ceiling as he’d long lost his drunken buzz from earlier in the night.

“Well,-.. If there’s anyone who deserves each other more, it’s them.. Now, I’m goin’ to sleep. We gotta get up early. G’night, T.” Michael grumbles, waving off Trevor’s despair about their early morning and finally settling down to sleep.

“Ugh.. Night, Mikey..”

Tomorrow was going to be a fucking pain.

[kokushibouthings]

What a horrendously great type of karma..

(sexual) 18+ themes, NSFW.

Pairing: Tomura shigaraki x reader

Content: Dub con, AFAB/Female reader, Public(?), Exhibitionism, CEO company setting thing, Reader works for tomura, Unspecified skintone hair length hair color eye color, Readers cup size A, Readers wearing pencil skirt with office uniforn, YES ONE OF HIS OR SOME OF HIS FINGER IS LIFTED UP EVERYTIME🤬

The elevator doors open, exiting it as I make my way to my office suddenly being stopped by my phones buzzing.

Picking it up, answering the call frustratingly.

"What is it... Sir."

"Why sound so frustrated? But anyway. What the fuck did you do to make the clients so pissed off? We lost such a fucking huge deal."

"..." I annoyingly move my hand with phone in hand away ignoring his words. Fuck this damn job. "So fuckin stressful..."

"------- Are you there? I swear to god I..—"

I hung up instantly, Closing the door to my office locking it as I finally reached it...

"Well damn aren't I fucking smart? I just so happened to know that you'd come here."

I turned behind me, Looking at my dumbass boss, Tom– I mean Shigaraki. With his phone in hand leaning against the wall with that slick annoying pose of his.

"..." I stared blankly, Unmotivated and unwanting to say anything... "Whatever, Might as well fire me since I'm already about to quit."

I headed to my desk, basically slamming my purse and phone on it as I take stuff out of the drawers in a rush.

...

!! (switching to 3rd person pov)

...

He pinned you against the glass, looking seriously pissed off.

You scoffed, "What?" "Stop being such a moody fucking slut."

His voice sent a slight shiver down your spine, As you just bit your bottom lip feeling his knee in between your legs, pressing against your entrance.

He leaned in, whispering into your ear. "You lost us a great deal, So you'll receive the exact amount of karma back for impacting this company." He moved his hand to your waist, And for some awful reason... You got a chill with it being kinda a sensitive spot.

As he teasingly moved his knee around, nibbling on your neck with a hand of his rubbing your waist. God you are absolutely so terrified of the fact the glass could shatter and you could just die right now, but also feel...honestly good right now..

"A... –and how exactly is this the sa..ame amount of karma..?" You asked, stuttering slightly squirming but refusing to be belittled right now... "Oh you'll find out." He smiled, grabbing you forcing you in a position up against the glass making you have a good look at the scenery below

"Don't you hate heights?" He whispered, feeling a hand of his lift up the helm of your skirt having your ass grind against your ass. Your whole body being pressed up against the glass as you constantly try to wiggle out

"Shigara..— Sir, do – don't." You said in a low tone, feeling his hands rubbing your clit through your panties with his lips softly kissing the side of your neck— Unzipping and lowering his pants as a finger of his tucked your panties down

Desperately clawing at the glass window, meanwhile that asshole enjoys what he's doing and strayed off completely from the main thing. "How about you stay put now? Nothing to be embarrassed about since your not facing me." As he practically just lowered you a bit, to be facing the ground, and your hands, face (slightly) against the window

Placing his manhood against your slit, slowly pushing it all in letting out low groans with you already feeling a rope snapping inside simultaneously while frustratingly moaning letting out a few tears, and shaking legs

"Huh? That sure was quick..." Sliding it, and out of you, rubbing and tugging on your nipple through the uniform blouse.

"Nngh...ohh. f— fuck.. shhhiiiiiiitt..." You cried out, as he just started throwing degrading comments starting to pound you ramming it so painfully amazing inside of you, "Fuckin' slut, look at you...obeying me all just cause I'm your boss... Fuc...cking pathetic bitch."

A finger slides down, rubbing and sliding against your clit while also tugging and rubbing your nipple in a circular motion

"Fuuck.. Ohh...to— tomura.." Calling his name drived him crazy, hearing you repeat it over and over again as he just went faster

"What if I would've just cummed in your little cunt and left you, firing you?" He randomly asked pausing in some bits of the sentence, barely even being able to respond to him as your too busy lost in your own sense of karma..

"Ngghh...Wo–. ouldn't car..ree~e feeels..mmmhhhp- s—soo good. Fu —Uucckk!" You cried out again, snapping again as you hit your 2nd orgasm with shigaraki doing a last thrust before pulling out and coming on your folded skirt

Your legs shake tremendously before just going numb as you collapse on to the floor with messy hair and ruined mascara from all of the tears...and also drool dripping on to the floor.

"Ahh...shouldve thought it out on how I should deal with the aftermath. Guess I'm not that smart, but oh well. Let's leave the real ceo of this company to deal with it." Though he pitied you a little bit, fixing your blouse, and wiping the cum off of your skirt also unfolding it back fixing your panties then leaving.

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and yea plot twist he isn't even the real ceo lmao, what u expect he's a villain 😂

how did we know his name and stuff? simple he tricked and manipulated us with calls by going in our phone, changing contact numbers names and all that. Yea 🫡

wait no don't make me go out again😕

.....

......../ This isn't fair.

🚪🧍🏻‍♀️🧳

[gumjester]

👩‍🏫👩‍👧👤🪞?

👩‍🏫 - favourite + least favourite faculty member?

favourite faculty member has to be baba yaga 🤞there's something so great about The Witch Who Eats Children working at a high school, but also she seems to just be good at her job? everyone's pretty chill with her even if she is a bit of a royalist (which tbh get a grip lady. the girlbossery is compromised by this) and she like puts socks in the punch at thronecoming for her own personal vibes... raven has to chase down her fucking office in tsol because baba yaga does not see fit to have a stationary point of contact for any student... she's great. my idol

least favourite.. i could say grimm but honestly a) cop out. everyone hates grimm and b) i genuinely kind of love him 😭 he sucks so bad its entertaining. its great whenever he just gets hit in the fuckign face for no reason. so least favourite is rumpelstiltskin. HE SUCKS NOT EVEN IN A FUN WAY HE JUST USES CHILD LABOUR TO BUILD HIS CRYPTO EMPIRE OR WHATEVER. WHYYYYY do you need bitches to spin straw into gold is your paycheck not already covering the rent for your little fuckin caravan you manlet

👩‍👧 - favourite + least favourite parent?

i tried to subvert expectations with my faculty answer but my favourite parent can't not be the mad hatter which is THE basic answer. but girl let me have this i forget good fathers exist its nice to have my faith restored whenever his friendly little face is on screen. great bow tie ! great voice ! he's a king

LEAST FAVOURITE UM. i cant say snow white that's boring um THE RED QUEEN. FUCK THAT LADY. EVERYTHING I KNOW ABOUT HER HAS BEEN MADE UP BY SOMEONE ELSE AND THEY SURE AS SHIT DIDNT LIKE HER SO I DONT EITHER

👤 - favourite backgrounder + which fairytale do you think theyre from?

AGAIN!!! THAT LITTLE GOTH BITCH <3 my memory of fairy tales has depleted somewhat recently but i saw the wiki say she might be death???? from a tale called godfather death and i like that idea :) i would like to think death looks as awesome as her

🪞 - which character is most like you and why?

my pfp is maddie for a reason!! i have always seen myself in her, and my friend used to compare me to her all the time which just solidified it further. i've always been spacey and spoke weirdly and a lot of the time the way i think of the world doesn't match up to what other people perceive, and seeing that in maddie was always rlly comforting. plus i love riddles, wonderland and tea. so i get her fr 🤝

i will also give an honourable mention to alistair, at least my characterisation of him. to me he is perpetually charlie day at the corkboard. i know how you feel, al

[itstheelvenjedi]

Able-bodied people's ass backwards logic about what will "fix" my disabilities is always so funny to me. And not funny as in LOL but funny as in "you have got to be fucking kidding me".

No able-bodied person I know has to be subjected to routine yearly or 2-yearly checks about what they're spending their salary on buying. But the govt is allowed to legally stalk me in order to make sure I limp noticeably enough in public and always use my cane when I say that I do, or that I only buy what they deem as "essential for survival" which for some reason does not include basic amenities like: food, water, electricity and Internet.

You can argue all you like about the necessity of the internet but in my experience, in this day and age it is literally impossible to do ANYTHING without ever needing to navigate to a website at SOME stage of the process, even the very same department of the government that justifies stalking me because *GASP!* I bought takeaways for one week because I was fuckin depressed and I wanted fresh food that didn't taste like freezer (all my food has to be batch cooked and then frozen, by the end of a meagre 2 hrs on a Monday. Then thawed out and reheated in a microwave, because I can't afford to pay 100 a WEEK for someone to come cook some meals fresher in the mid week, it almost ALWAYS is freezer burnt and doesn't taste good but eh, its food so I mustn't bitch and whine huh) direct you to a website when you call them for ANYTHING because "did you know you can do this on our online portal now instead of sitting on hold for hours!! How neat!!"

Oh really. Really. I can go ONLINE to your WEBSITE with the INTERNET that is not essential, huh?? Make it make sense.

Not only that but when you live on your own and get zero socialisation otherwise, being able to talk to online friends is often the ONLY form of company I ever get. But that's not essential, and neither is a telephone to call for help if I fall and injure myself or one day my hip dislocates and I can't put it back in this time cause that will eventually happen.

"Use your life alert pendant". Oh really. Hadn't thought to use the thing. That has to be connected to a landline TELEPH0NE (also deemed "unessential" by the able-bodied powers that be!) to function. How silly of me. 💁‍♀️

The last time a supposed occupational therapist came to my apartment for a face to face assessment she fixated on the fact that I had a PS4 cause "those cost a LOT of money so if you can afford that you can afford to pay monthly for your care"

Why yes, Barbara. The game console that I bought second-hand for a ONE OFF payment of 100 bucks 6 YEARS AGO is ABSOLUTELY equivalent to 100 bucks a WEEK when my total MONTHLY income barely even makes 500. Cause that adds up right.

Able bodied ppl can reblog but keep quiet aka don't add stupid shit or I will show no mercy

[koa-z]

How to Lose Someone If You're Being Followed (In a Pinch, not over time)

So I've had two different stalkers, both before I ever entered adulthood. They're not an issue anymore, but I learned a lot from dealing with them, and I ended up having to apply my knowledge today when a random person who was having a bad trip which caused them to become violent decided to focus on me.

This only applies when someone is actively following you. It will do nothing to resolve a long-term issue, it can just help you slip away in a pinch where you are actively being followed in real-time. I'm talking like, if you have 10 seconds, what can you do.

The long and the short of it is that when we aren't up close and personal (i.e talking face to face), people tend to recognize one another first by their silhouette. The clothing that you wear creates a shape, and if somebody who has just seen you is looking for you, then they will be looking for that shape above all else- especially if you're in a crowd of other shapes. So your priority (aside from basic safety like finding a crowded area, going to the authorities, etc- if you have none of those options, cannot do self defense, and have to act fast with no alternatives) is to break line of sight and then radically change your silhouette as quickly as possible. The person will be disoriented, and will search for your familiar silhouette. If they're super determined then they will locate you again but if not then you're home free- otherwise you've at least gained a few seconds, which can be life-saving.

The most effective ways to quickly change your silhouette are to wear a jacket, hat, or other very big, very obvious piece of clothing- and just fuckin ditch em (ideally still have em with you but I mean take em off and put em somewhere, I shoved mine in my formerly-empty bag). Wear a face mask as well which you can remove, because that gives you the added bonus of changing what your face looks like and losing a lot of familiarity. Whatever clothes you have on under the jacket should create a much different shape from what the jacket made. So big, oversized jackets are the easiest to do this with, bc they really indicate nothing about anything underneath them.

This logic also applies to distinct clothing. Today I was wearing a lot of easy to remove accessories, some of which were big, all of which were loud af. I was just trying to get some groceries, but I do not live in the best part of town, and somebody that was having a bad trip followed me down an unoccupied aisle and started screaming, "I've been looking for you for months, fucking faggot bitch." He proceeded to chase me. Having (unfortunately) a lot of experience in this area, I got to the end of the aisle as quickly as I could, turned the corner, and removed all of my very noticeable accessories and my face mask while also moving towards the more populated area of the store (always, always look for people. They won't help you, ha! People are absolutely useless when it comes to protecting one another- the best you can hope for is to get one of em between you and the aggressor. I know it sounds cold, but it's less cold than being dead. And if two of you are being attacked, then maybe the other person will actually close their fly trap and help you resist. They will not do that if they are neurotypical and not directly involved, so get em involved if you want to live. Sorry not sorry. Anyway- find a populated area. People won't help you, but many aggressors will be put off by an audience unless you have engaged them. It's also easier to lose someone in a crowd, and you can find and ask an individual for help. Speaking of-)

On asking for help: choose one person. Choose one person specifically and single them out. This also applies to if you're trying to find help for anyone else, for any reason, in any crisis situation. Don't just say "call an ambulance" - point to one specific person and tell them to do it. If you ask a crowd, no neurotypical individual will respond. If you point to one specific person, that individual will feel compelled to do what you say. It kinda snaps em out of the crowd trance that they're susceptible to.

Other general rules for stuff like this is don't fight, you won't win. Idc if you're shredded, fights to the death aren't the same as sparring. And if you do have to fight for your life, make the first hit the last. No one's gonna keep coming at you if their eyes are suddenly deep inside of their skull.

[incarnateirony]

I cannot believe Shea is still stalking your blog. The miserable bitch got no personality of her own except horrible or what???????? Can't tell Mark you didn't warn him. Dudes gonna be in for an awful time when she finds her next, uh, mark. Heh.

Sorry you're still dealing with that bullshit from your past life. I hope she lets it go soon.

She also stole her LATEST branding straight from a personal experience of mine around 2010 and wrote a big bio about it. That's why I'm like, oh you're pretending that's some message from the gods you hear and honor? Cool story bro, what's the name of the woman that shit was said to. Oh, you and "him" won't know that?

After all the time she went uwu ur magic is different than mine, way over my head, calling herself a shaman, she's made a shop for her "services" painting herself as the hermes dedicant, jacking my shit for her own branding, literally just painting "fraud" on her head to anyone that knows history or the origin of Things.

From stolen character design, stolen shop branding, and now down to even stolen practices she doesn't really understand or study, she is literally doing everything she can to like. roleplay being able to be me. It's the weirdest fuckin shit. Literally psychotic shit. And I know for a fact just cuz I know HER, she's going to be pretending to channel him for people, boiling down to her understanding ending at "be flamboiyant, sit on chair wrong, make Funny Jokes". She used to try to use "channeling" as escapism like a LARP, and basically tried to beg me to bother and call Hermes for any time she had a hair up her ass and essentially got mad neither I or he wanted to play, and more chapped when she was told to stop running from her identity and life by him. But dollars to donuts she's waving her hands around like jack sparrow on the seventeenth sequel caricatured telling people she's channeling.

And they'll defend her. If Mark is even REMOTELY like me he's already sorta covered his eyes and looked away and pretended he didn't notice her forgery or overcompensation. But he'd do real well to catch her standing in the livingroom and ask her when she's pretending to not be her to, say, cite the seven axioms. Or the seven or fourteen processes. Something fundamental to who she's pretending to be a dedicant or vessel for that she hasn't even been assed to read, and watch the blank stare and evasion.

But he won't. He'd have to face the same struggle I did at the last few years of our relationship of me realizing she was at large a fraud. He'd have to face that she is literally trying to recreate me being in her life because Mark isn't enough and doesn't provide the things she still wants. He'd have to accept she still hasn't moved on, and she's engaging in a LARP to try to imagine me in an invisible spot while pretending she isn't. And man, wouldn't that be a bitch to realize about your fiance. As a friend said, "Because if she pretends to be you she doesn’t have to admit she’s a failure at being her. At being a decent person or human or admit she was wrong in how she treated you. The reasons stack up honestly."

I cannot emphasize enough how fucking weird it is to watch an ex throw away her defining attributes (native american shaman, later athena) to badly mimic shit after you left. (It went from "I don't understand the things you do" to "lol actually I do it too I follow hermes too!!!" after the detour she took into 5d flat earth lightworker facebook to scream about cursed lemons as her pivot point--not missing of course her trying to make me cast a twined black candle curse on people because she went fuckin WEIRD.)

ITS. WEIRD. FUCKIN. WILD SHIT TO WATCH. Yes, the marvelous dedicant that hasn't read a book of his, can't cite where her branding is from, can't even picture him without copying my work, and encouraged/antagonized/harbors people that tried to delete one of the largest non-closed-lodge epicenters of information about and from him that people were allowed to explore. Like sitting with people that tried to blow up a church and then saying you're jesus' best special snowflake. Literal insanity. I'm not coming back, Shea, and neither is he. So just stop.

Take a gander at why your Etna muse fucked off to the wind. Figure it out sweetheart. These are literally consequences for your choices, you weren't just abandoned for no reason, they left you because of what you chose to do, and doodling mandalas with mirror features or stealing my shit to turn into literal fucking roleplays to mask through will not change it. Even if it actually gives you a vision to draw and present that's interesting again and doesn't look like a character a 14 year old would make on Furcadia like your shit since.

This is gonna be one of those "I'm going to die mad about it" levels of offense, and then when I die, I'll join hermes, and flip through all the death by a thousand cuts troll tortures he put her through for abusing his name for her free pass for misbehaviors or pretending to be him. She might as well have named herself The Incarnate Irony pagan or The Crustdaddy pagan. Fuckin shit. Dig a little deeper, girl, maybe steal his SomeCrumbAugh. Oh, no, you only knew to steal the one I told you about. Funny how that works. Catch up bitch that's so 2010 of him anyway, it's CrustDaddy now. Nerd.

Quite frankly she'd turn inside out in fucking rage if she understood Why Crustdaddy, too. But her mimicry will never explain it to her. And frankly I can't even say what on the timeline, for the same reason I said I had to step back from leaking for people's protection, but like, bitch That Could Have Been You. Your loss. What could have been? IDK. Figure it out. She calls him crustdaddy. Whomst? Too bad, so sad, you'll never get the benefit she was given instead. Your choices. Your cost. Your hilariously scammed bank account. But sure you have the protection of the god of thieves and the internet who let you fall for some shit that even senile geriatrics can smell the bullshit on. She got a glo up. You got an emptied bank account.

[lawain-dimensional-heroes]

"It annoys me to no fuckin' end, but there's too many soft preys and not enough actual warriors roaming around nowadays who would finish their fight or call it a pause without cowarding like little pups..."

"...Like if you're going to surrender at least admit that you're facing an opponent far stronger than yourself. Did they not learn that from their training? At least a true warrior will admit that! But noooooo, they want to run away like the pathetic prey they are! Seriously!"

"Oh and don't EVEN get me started on those altruistic heroic types, especially with those who have either some stupid excuse for their powers-- like that stupid power of friendship trope that is plastered in what basically is starting to seem like all shows at this point, or they have such unrealistic morals or weird reason to fight that it doesn't make sense for them to be fighters. Yes I fight to protect my sisters, but I also fight cause I'm a born fighter."

"And then there are some asshole preys thinking I'm the bad bitch for being a fighter-- a warrior! Sure, I do leave death in my wake at times, but what do you expect when there are people who are provoking us by trying to eliminate me or my sisters. If they still think that way about me then they better say it when they capture me dead or alive! I would've done that to them, but even this so called 'bad bitch' has some semblance of restraint those stupid mud-eating FUCKS!!"

"Hela, dear? I know it is unlike me to say this but would you please calm yourself-- you're becoming quite angry again--"

"I AM COMPLETELY F**KING CALM THANK YOU VERY MUCH!!!"

[sapnotfoundbutwastaken]

hey!! im new to tumblr but i love your writing and i was wondering if you could do a request for me? basically the reader is assigned to share a dorm with someone in your university, but it so happens that your dorm mate is dream, but you both hate eachother. you can try working out how they start to get a long. it could be something like angry sex or some shit but idk, feel free to play around with it!!!

brat • dream smut

a/n : welcome to tumblr, anon !! so glad you like my writing, here you go :)

POV: first person

gn!reader

pronouns: they / them

gn!physiology

warnings: smut/nsfw, enemies to lovers, “sir”, degradation, very very VERY dom/sub, bottom!reader

University. It was most definitely a mixed bag; you shove your hand into it and have no clue what you’re gonna grab out of it. Was I gonna be sitting out on the grass with my new lifelong best friends, or was I gonna end up in miserable and making half-joking comments about how much I hate my life? I guess the answer ended up being neither, but something much more complicated.

I walked into my dorm room for the first time. It was pretty bare, both of the beds completely stripped of sheets, pillows, and blankets. I walked in, taking in the new environment that I was gonna be surrounded by for the next few months until my first break. ‘This looks... depressing,’ I thought, putting down my backpack as well as the suitcases full of all of my things. I began to unpack.

I heard a person come open the door to the room. “Hey, I’m Clay... I think you’re my roommate. You can call me Dream.” I spun around, looking at him. I simply nodded, not knowing what exactly to say.

“Uh, yeah, I’m [y/n].” I turned back to my clothes, letting the silence that was once there envelope the room once again. He tended to his side of the room as I tended to mine.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” I rolled my eyes. ‘Oh god, he’s one of those people.’

“Uh, I mean I just don’t really know you yet.” I pulled my sheets out of one of the suitcases, unfolding them.

“That’s dumb, how are you gonna get to know me if you’re all quiet?” I ignored his question. I know that simply letting him talk will give me all of the information I need to know about him. “See, you don’t even know what to say, I’m right.” ‘Cocky much?’

“I don’t need to talk to you to know you.” I could almost feel his glare into the back of my head.

He scoffed, “No, you don’t need to talk to me to make assumptions. Tell me one thing you know about me.”

I turned around and looked at him. “First, people only show their good side, so I like to make my own observations of their behavior. For example, you’re cocky as fuck.”

He rolled his eyes, turning back to his bed to unpack his things. “Okay, then here’s my ‘observation’, you’re a bitch.”

“Okay, and you’re an asshole.” I retorted, childishly, before putting in my headphones and deciding to ignore him as much as possible. ‘Out of every fucking person I could be paired with... why him?’

-

I walked from the bus stop up the stairs of the dorm building and to my shared room with... him. Dream, as he told me to call him. As much as I hated his attitude and almost everything about his annoying personality, I had to admit that after a month I was coming around in a way. Maybe I didn’t find him completely unbearable, but I definitely still didn’t like him.

I entered the space and set my bag next to my desk. Dream was laying on his bed, looking at his phone. “Hey, I’m having like 3 friends over here tonight, so could you find a place to stay?” I looked at him, my expression dripping with ‘say deadass’.

“Uh, no? You can’t tell me things like this last minute, dude. This is my place, too,” I stated, letting the truth onto him. His attention darted from his phone to me.

“I can’t just cancel!” He exclaimed in defense.

“Yes you can, and you will! Reschedule it for another time.” He was silent, staring at me.

“Fine,” He mumbled after a moment of quiet. I turned to my desk, taking out my homework for the day and setting it down. I walked into our shared bathroom with some comfortable clothes and turned on the shower. Stripping off my clothing, I stepped in as soon as it was hot enough. I sighed in content, the steaming water caressing my body and relaxing my muscles. 

After a bit of washing myself and relaxing, I turned off the water and stepped out onto the tile. As I changed into my clothes, I could hear Dream talking through the door, “They’re fucking annoying, man, but they’re hot so whatever, I guess.” My eyes widened as he spoke. ‘...me?’

I can’t say that I never found him hot. He’s tall, broad shoulders, pretty green eyes... who wouldn’t be attracted to him? He’s hot, but he’s a dumbass, and I think that’s the only thing that was stopping me from pursuing him.

I walked out after I finished drying my hair, bringing the blonde boy’s attention to me. “I gotta go, talk to you later,” He rushed out, hanging up in a hurry. I quirked a brow at him in confusion.

“What was that about?” I asked, taking a seat at my desk.

“Had to cancel. Nothin’ else.” I chuckled at his attempt to not share much.

“So who’s this hot but annoying person you were talking about?” I questioned, my eyes changing course to look at his face.

His cheeks flared up, his freckled skin turning pink. “Don’t listen in on my phone conversations, bitch,” He said harshly.

I stood up. “Excuse me? Listen, I already told you to stop talking to me like that-”

“You’re so hot when you look like that,” He interrupted me. Now it was my turn to start blushing.

“L-Like what?” I asked, half mumbling.

“When you get all worked up. That’s why I like bothering you so much.” I was stuck in my spot, unsure of what to say to that. The thought of Dream finding me hot was so insanely flustering for whatever reason, and it never occurred to me until that moment. 

He got up, walking over to me. I looked up and into his eyes. “Sometimes, when you make me really mad, I think about slamming you into your mattress,” He said, quietly, making the rasp in his voice stick out. “And just taming you... because you’re just such a brat, sometimes.” My breath got caught in my throat, I felt like I couldn’t even speak. “Sometimes a brat needs to be put in their place, don’t you think?” I nodded. “Use your words.”

“I, uh- yes, sir,” I stuttered out. A smirk pulled at his lips, and his hand made it’s way up to my cheek, cupping my face. He slowly pushed his thumb between my lips, causing me to start sucking it. He pulled it out, my mouth releasing it with a quiet ‘pop’.

“Get on your knees, angel.” I obeyed immediately and got down on my knees. “You wanna undo my belt?”

I nodded, eagerly. “Yes, please?” He nodded, humming an ‘mhm’. I bit my lip as I undid his belt before unbuttoning his jeans. I glanced up at his face before unzipping them as well and pulling them down. I could see the outline of his hard-on through his boxers. I slowly and softly palmed him over the thin material, eliciting a low, quiet moan.

“Take them off, sweetheart.” I nodded and pulled down his underwear, his cock springing up due to the sudden freedom. I licked the palm of my hand before wrapping it around his shaft and slowly moving it up and down. I looked up at his face, seeing his lip between his teeth as I touched him.

“Can I use my mouth, sir?” I asked him, even though I already know the likely answer.

He nodded, “Mhm, use your mouth.” I softly licked the tip of his member before wrapping my lips around it, sucking lightly. I started bobbing my head, taking more of him in my mouth every time I went back down. “Do you think you can deep-throat me, angel?”

I nodded. “C-Can I do that, sir?” He nodded, his hand making it’s way into my hair. I slowly started to take more of him in my mouth, eventually getting to the point of him hitting the back of my throat. I choked a little but pushed through it. I continued to take as much as I could down my throat, Dream softly fucking my face.

“Just like that, baby,” He groaned as I continued to bob my head. He pulled a bit on my hair, sending heat down between my legs. He pulled my head off of his dick by my hair, a string of spit bridging the gap. “Get on the bed, safe word is puppy.” I nodded and jumped up off of the floor and onto my bed.

He yanked my sweatpants down, pulling down my underwear with it. I pulled my shirt over my head and he did the same to himself. “You want my cock, baby? Look at how turned on you are.”

I let out a soft moan as he rubbed me right where I needed it. “I want it so bad, sir, please..” I begged. He bit his lip before pulling a bottle of lube out of his dresser.

“Get on your stomach, I’m gonna fuck your pretty little hole from behind.” Butterflies erupted in my stomach as I followed his directions. I could hear the slippery liquid being drizzled and spread all over his cock, it only made me want him more.

He slowly pushed into me, making a moan uncontrollably escape my lips. “Fuck...” I whispered.

“Yeah, you like feeling all full, don’t you? Such a fuckin’ whore for me,” He teased slowly moving with my permission. He gradually sped up, the two of us letting out moan after moan, the sound of our skin colliding being the only other sound filling the room. “You’re such a goddamn brat,”

“I... I know, sir... please- please don’t stop!” His hand made it’s way into the roots of my hair, pulling it, making it hurt so perfectly.

“Yeah? Don’t stop?” He asked, breathlessly as he started going faster. “I’m not gonna stop, angel.” I bit my lip, my eyes rolling to the back of my head as he pounded into me.

I touched myself as he fucked me, making everything feel double as good. “S...s-sir, I-I’m gonna... D-Dream, please!” I let out incoherent sentences.

“Aw, look, you can barely talk. Come on, sweetheart, cum for me like a good little slut.” The knot in my stomach fell apart as he spoke, a loud moan leaving my body once again. He let me ride out my high before pulling out and stroking himself and releasing all over my back. I bit my lip as I felt the warm liquid hit my skin.

He laid down beside me. “What do we say?” He asked, teasingly.

I giggled. “Thank you, sir.”

[katsumox]

he is smoke, and i am his fire<3

headcanons, in which bakugou katsuki has a fiery s/o

cw: cussing, katsu being a messy ass bitch, general tomfoolery

notes from candy girl: this was one of my first requests EVER, so thank u, nonnie!!

*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ**✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ**✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ

katsuki never really thought he would have someone to truly butt heads with in UA, as so many basically cowered at his intense stare. that is, until you came along.

you're always very quick to quip at him about his unnecessary yelling or attitude towards the people he speaks to, and you do it in a way that sounds snide and cocky.

the first time he came at you sideways, you said loudly, "i don't know who the fuck you THINK you are, but i know damn well you ain't speaking to ME in that tone"

he wasn't ready for that kind of response so he literally stared at you, jaw basically on the floor and eyes hella wide.

from then on, you didn't hesitate to put him in his place, because to be honest, it's kinda fun!

of course his nickname for you has to do with your supposedly cocky manner, so he calls you princess, or your majesty, because you MUST think you're better than him if you talk to him like that!

(you don't, though. you think he's just being a dick.)

although he thinks it can be annoying, that fiery personality along with your sense of justice really drew him to you.

soon he started calling you your designated nickname without so much malice behind it.

make no mistake, he still has that peturbed lilt in his voice, but it seems much more, well, calm.

after you start dating, he still calls you princess, or your majesty, but with a ghost of a small smirk on his face while he says it.

he loves your attitude and finds it so entertaining to watch you go off on people

(messy ass lil boy😐)

he has literally cried of laughter when you went off on monoma for god knows what. probably for never shutting the fuck up.

he also cried of laughter HARDER when you scared deku half to death with all the yelling that was happening at the time, and then simply told him to get over it.

(once again, a messy ass lil boy😐)

also, for some odd reason, he LOVES annoying the shit out of you.

not that he'd ever tell you this, but it's because you look really hot when you're angry.

so, he starts petty ass arguments for fun, but only ones where he knows you won't get really angry about it.

he'll argue about ice cream flavors with you for god's sake,

just petty shit to make you huff and roll your eyes because he's a petty ass annoying ass boyfriend.

he LIVES for the way you say phrases like "katsu, i'm gonna kick your fuckin' ass" because he LIVES for the challenge.

or that one time right before your one on one training, when you grabbed him by the jaw and said that you'd gut him right where he stood

he thinks about that moment all the time, not that you'd ever get it out of him, especially not when you ask, "hey, 'suki...whatcha thinkin' about?"

he'll die before admitting something so embarassing.

let's make this clear, he will NOT be your impulse control at all when it comes to arguing with people. like i said, he's a messy ass bitch who likes to spectate or even egg you on when it comes to reading bitches like books.

HOWEVER, if they say ANYTHING remotely out of line when it comes to you, he's on their ass like white on rice. he's no talking, all action on they ass, but he'll let you get in a few licks if you want to.

he knows you can handle yourself just fine, but to him, it's a matter of pride!

no one, and he means NO ONE gets to talk shit about his baby without being blasted into fucking orbit, and he lives by that<3

taglist:

@mixfi @angiebug101 @silkylious @namjoonswifeyy @quincywrites @jaybubs @imabitobsessedlove @myhoodacademia

[aphrodite-made-me-write-it]

Bar Fries (and Other Drunk Blessings)

(A/N) aha im alive. i’ve made several bad choices this week. the least of which is my sudden obsession w darcy lewis. idk where it came from idk where it’s going but here’s a darcy fic OF WHICH THERE ARE NOT NEARLY ENOUGH. im stealing this tag and making it my bitch. part 2 of wanda is coming up shortly. welcome to me time, and this very very self-indulgent fic. 

Rating: M for Mature Language bc i am a POTTY MOUTH

Warnings: Hella Gay Tropes! Darcy is my wife goodbye. Literally nothing is bad abt this it’s basically fluff with very light pining. this is the comfort fic i fuckin need lmao

Pairing: Darcy Lewis x Fem!Asgardian!Reader

Word Count: 4,878

Synopsis: You get a drunk phone call at 4am from a very pissed off astrophysicist who loves to rant about lost bar fries and stolen iPods. Your brother tries to set you up with a girl who tased him.

LOOK AT HER SHE’S SO PRETTY WHSDKFJ

You’ve never slept well, ever since you were a kid. Being an Asgardian fallen to Earth when you were just a small child, you always assumed it had something to do with that. When you became an Avenger though, and later reunited with your brothers, your restless nights came more and more frequently.

Tonight, though, your spiralling mind is honed into focus when your phone starts to vibrate aggressively on your nightstand. You reach for it blindly, answering without looking at the Caller ID. Being a literal superhero kind of means you’re on call, like, all of the time.

“Hell-” you start but you’re immediately interrupted by a very loud and very drunk woman.

“I am so sorry for how I reacted at Cheeky Joe’s,” she slurs. “That was so not cool of me dude. It’s just that your fries looked so good and I thought you loved me because we’re best friends, right? All I wanted was one little fry! But I orc- over- o-” 

“Overreacted?” You finish, a smile pulling at your lips for some reason. Whoever this chick was, she sounded absolutely adorable. Or maybe it’s the early morning hours getting to your head.

There’s a sharp inhale. “Aw, shit, did SHIELD get my number again? Don’t you government cronies have something better to do than harass a-”

“Nope, no government cronies here,” you certainly aren’t telling her you’re an Avenger. That’s how you get doxxed, dammit. “And you called me about your french fry problems.”

“That’s such a relief,” she sighs. “Those bastards stole my iPod!” 

You snort. “Did they? Why would they do that?” 

“S’long story,” you distinctly hear her stumble, then she’s cackling at herself. 

“Are you okay?” You ask worriedly.

“Peachy keen, jelly bean,” she responds not so smoothly. “Talkin’ to a stranger on my walk home. My parents would be so disappointed.” She laughs again, a bit dramatically, and you can’t help joining in. 

“Better talking to a stranger on the phone than on the street.” You offer, to which she hums. You sit up, fighting the urge to yawn.

“Am I keepin’ ‘ya up?” 

“Nope, I was already awake.” 

“What are you, a vampire?” 

You wheeze out a laugh. “If I was, I wouldn’t tell you.”

“Heartless. I like you.” 

“So, what’s your name, stranger?”

“Darcy. Doctor Darcy. I’m a doctor.” 

You roll your eyes, biting your lip to fight the grin that’s already breaking out across your face. “Well, doctor, I’m (Y/N). Not a doctor, but kind of close, I suppose.”

“School nurse? Girlscout leader?”

“I’m afraid that’s a third date topic,” you divert easily, earning a delighted laugh from the other woman.

“Noted.” 

Darcy goes on a few long-winded rants about how shady government agencies are, and rapidly changes topics to things like shows she likes or movies she watches over and over. It’s weirdly easy to talk to her, as if you’d known each other all your lives. Which is odd in and of itself - you really are practically strangers. She has no idea who she’s talking to, and for all you know, she very well may be a serial killer or something.

But you still talk to her, and you can’t deny how much you enjoy doing so. You’re honestly disappointed when there’s the distinct jingling of keys, the gentle twick of a lock turning. “Well, made it home alive, stranger!”

“Congratulations, Doctor!” You hope you don’t sound so pathetically sad about it. 

“Thanks for toler-tating me, tolerating-” Darcy yelps, but doesn’t fall. She’s definitely taking off the heels she’s been complaining about. “For walking me home.”

“Glad to be of service,” you chuckle. “All in a day’s work.”

“You should sleep, too, for whatever secret job you’re hiding.” 

“Probably.” 

“We should- I mean, if y’wanted to, I dunno, talk again…” Are those the sounds of clothes being removed? She sounds distant, so it’s hard to tell. “Y’know, I’m down.”

“Noted.” You bite your lip. “Goodnight, stranger.” 

“Night,” she sighs. You’re pretty sure she’s just flopped down onto her bed. You wait just a moment before hanging up, your stomach turning pleasantly. 

You’ll blame it on the five-in-the-morning spur-of-the-moment vibes, but you send Darcy a text:

Outgoing: Good morning, stranger! I hope you aren’t feeling too sick when you wake up. Even though it was a drunk phone call, I did enjoy talking to you :) -(Y/N)

When you lay your head back down, sleep comes surprisingly easy.

- - - -

Darcy Lewis wakes up half-dressed and face down in her bed. It’s a familiar position, but it’s especially pathetic when she’d gone to sleep like this alone and, of course, woke up like this alone. She groans at the spinning sensation that immediately hits her brain, turning it to fuzzy cotton.

Her mouth tastes like actual garbage. Her makeup is still on. Her glasses are on her pillow, which means they’re going to be fucking dirty, and she can smell the stale beer on herself. 

Yup. Darcy Lewis is, in fact, hungover.

Hungover and alone, she reminds herself. Fuck yeah, astrophysics. 

She checks her phone, winces at the brightness. Five missed calls and eight missed texts from the number she’s pretty sure are Jane’s - but what’s that other message from a number that looks almost exactly like her best friend’s?

Then, the memories - and the nausea - hit her like a goddamn train going down a fucking mountain. She almost trips on her way to the bathroom, just making it to the toilet in time to throw up. 

After a much needed vom-session, an aggressive brush of her teeth, a hot shower, another aggressive brush of her teeth, Darcy is ready to face the consequences of her actions. That, and she was going to order a disgusting greasy breakfast from that diner around the corner. 

Jane, of course, is pissed but incredibly merciful. Darcy had texted her multiple times to apologize for being upset about the bar fries, and Jane is used to Black Out Darcy’s shit. After another apology and a promise to buy her lunch tomorrow, Darcy is off the hook and onto the next text.

She reads it once, then twice, then a third time before she realizes she’s rereading it and actually smiling. She mulls over her response for longer than she will ever admit to anybody even under extreme methods of torture.

Outgoing: I am so so sorry for keeping you up so late. I promise I’m not like an alcoholic or anything. I liked talking to you too, but I think I’ll like it more when I can actually remember all of the stupid things I say

Darcy keeps that stupid dorky dumb smile on her face when her food arrives, which she’s pretty sure scares the delivery boy who has only seen her hungover and monstrous. She keeps looking at her phone, despite herself, and sometimes swears she hears it vibrate only to find an empty lockscreen.

By four, she’s getting a little depressed. Maybe she’d hallucinated this mysterious stranger who liked talking to her? Or maybe it was just a customary text, like maybe this happens to you all the time and-

Okay, she certainly heard it vibrate this time.

She grabs it immediately. Like a basic bitch.

Incoming:  I was already up, don’t worry about it :) but you can always make it up to me by introducing me to Sober Darcy.  Sorry for the late reply. Work is a bit hectic rn

God, she knows she’s smiling again. She’s never reacted like THIS to strangers who get her number. Darcy has never, ever in her life felt like this. It’s so fucking dorky and weird she has to second-guess herself. I am not a basic bitch. I am not about to simp for some rando I don’t even know. 

Still, even as she thinks this, she types out:

Outgoing: Sober Darcy. Nice to meet you. Allow me to be your distraction from work? I have cat videos.

And thus, a beautiful friendship is formed.

- - - -

“Are you finally texting that cute temp in statistics?” Natasha asks, noticing not for the first time in the past two weeks that you’re glued to your phone with a dazed sort of expression. A dumbstruck kind of look.

You scoff. “No.”

The redhead frowns to herself when you don’t even spare her a glance. “Well, who’re you texting?”

“Nobody,” you respond, putting your phone down suspiciously. “Why?”

Natasha rolls her eyes. “Do I really have to remind you that I’m an expert on body language?”

“Human body language.”

“Oh, shut up, you’re not some weird humanoid freak. Who are you texting and why are they making you look all sappy?”

You blush. “Uh- well, it’s… a long story.”

Ever since you started texting, you and Darcy rarely go longer than a few hours without talking to each other. Occasionally, you’ll talk on the phone, and you easily drown yourself in the way she speaks about her work. She sounds so passionate, so alive - it’s endearing, even if you don’t understand a lot of the technical terms. You know stars well enough, at least.

And, okay, as dumb as it sounds… you might have developed a crush on her. Is it even possible to be attracted to a voice?

“C’mon,” Natasha snaps her fingers expectantly. “I’m waiting. Who is it?”

“We, uh, met by accident. She called me instead of her friend when she was drunk a few weeks ago. We’ve kinda been texting ever since?” You explain in a rush.

Natasha fucking lights up like it’s Christmas morning. She might not seem like the type to enjoy gossip, but she and Tony Stark are the biggest goddamn drama queens you’ve ever met. They live and thrive on gossip.

But she’s your best friend, so you have to tolerate it.

“That’s actually so cute. What’s she like? Have you seen her? Is she hot?” She asks in succession. 

You blush even harder. “Well- no, we haven’t like, done a video call or anything. Just- just regular ones. And texting.”

“So that’s why you’re always up so late.”

“She’s doing some work in Arizona right now. She’s, uh, an astrophysicist.”

“And does she know what you are?”

“Of course not.”

Natasha groans, throwing her head back against the cushions of the couch. “You’re kidding me.”

“What? How do I even- how would I bring that up? ‘Hey, you like space, right? Well, guess what? You’re talking to a genuine alien!’”

The redhead scoffs incredulously. “Well, the longer you keep it from her, the weirder it’s going to be when you finally fess up. If you really like her, she should know what she’s getting into. She doesn’t even know that you’re an Avenger, does she?”

“Well, she’s apparently had her iPod stolen by SHIELD.” 

Natasha sits up, then, a look of blatant confusion on her face. “What?”

You shrug. “Apparently they’re on her shitlist for that.”

“How does she know about SHIELD?”

You shrug. “She won’t tell me, but either way, telling her I literally work as a government-sanctioned super-freak isn’t gonna do me any favors.”

“Oh, shut up. If she’s as nerdy as she sounds I think she’d be into it.”

“You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“Aw, but you love me.” Natasha winks. “So, you don’t even have an instagram? Twitter? Somewhere to find her picture?”

You shake your head shyly. “N-no.”

“You’re hopeless.”

- - - -

Outgoing: can i ask u something kinda weird?

Incoming: if it’s feet pics, i charge extra

Outgoing: ha ha. ur hilarious. if i asked u to facetime…. Would u?

Incoming: you’ve listened to me drunk rant about bar fries of course I’d ft with u

It takes you longer than you’d like to admit to get ready to facetime Darcy. You want to look nice, but not too nice. Casual, but not like, lazy slop casual. You’re nervous as fuck, and you really can’t even explain WHY. It’s so fucking dorky, you want to throw up.

But eventually, you muster up the courage and totally aren’t considering jumping out of a window by the time the screen lights up.

Of course she’s hot.

Shit.

Darcy’s wearing a huge grin on her face the moment she sees you, her plump lips painted red and her blue eyes shining with excitement. “So you really aren’t a creepy old man!”

You snort. “When did I ever seem like a creepy old man?”

She shrugs. “Most things in my life take a weird turn that involve creepy older men. Besides, you just seemed too cool to be real.” 

“You only say that because you’re a nerd,” you roll your eyes, earning a scoff from the brunette. Weirdly, you’d sort of known she was a brunette. “You’re prettier than I imagined.”

“Last guy who said that to me got tased.” 

“You’re awfully attached to that taser.”

She grins maliciously. “Dude, if you knew who and what this taser has tased, you’d be attached to it, too.”

“My brother was tased once,” you mention off-handedly, grinning at the story Thor had told you. “When he first came to M-uh,” you stop yourself cold. “My place, I mean. Here.” Not a complete lie, right? 

“You’ve got a brother?” Darcy asks, surprised. You find that her expressions give away her true emotions; she’s so expressive, so alive with whatever she’s feeling in the moment. It’s unbelievably adorable. “You never mentioned that!” 

“He’s…” You hesitate nervously. “Well, he’s hard to describe.”

“Just like your job? I’m starting to think you’re either a serial killer or a famous pornstar because I swear I’ve seen your face before.” 

Dread pools in your gut. “I’ve just got that kind of face, I guess.” 

Her eyes narrow thoughtfully. “You’re definitely in porn, aren’t you?” 

“You’re saying that like you want me to be,” you retort, earning a blush and a laugh.

“I wouldn’t judge! Money’s money. Shake what your mama gave ‘ya!” 

You stay up way, way later than you’d intended. So late that the next morning, you wake up next to your phone and are met with a sleeping lump with a mass of dark hair. It brings a dumb smile to your lips, inevitable and impossible to fight. You end the call, wincing at how hot it’s made your phone, and sit up groggily. 

You’re still smiling when you make it to the kitchen, your slippered feet seemingly skimming the ground with how much your whole body is buzzing.

“Why is she smiling like that?” Bucky whispers to Steve, who just shakes his head.

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Maybe she got laid?” Tony suggests, butting into the conversation. 

“Nobody came into the Tower last night. You’d be the first to know.” Steve points out.

Tony nods, humming as he strokes his facial hair. You’re putting together a bowl of cereal, looking absolutely mindless with glee. It isn’t that you’re always depressed or something. It’s just strange seeing you like… this. They haven’t seen you this happy since you reunited with Thor.

Natasha, though, is unusually quiet. Actually, she’s grinning too. Like the cat who caught the canary. She sips her coffee with a content sigh, looking disproportionately pleased with herself.

“Do you think they-” Bucky begins, but shuts up the second Natasha’s green eyes land on him. “Maybe she’s just having a good day.”

“Yeah, a good day,” Natasha smiles, sending a cold chill down the men’s spines. 

Whatever the fuck is going on, it might be in their better interest to just leave it alone.

- - - -

It was a very rare and especially good occasion when you and Thor got to work together. His missions always involved space or Asgard, and when he wasn’t off on his missions, he was with his girlfriend out of state. You kept in close contact, but it was always thrilling to fight alongside him.

Thor inherited much of your father’s abilities, but you were bestowed with your mother’s own abilities and a few… unique to yourself. You could see glimpses of the future, though not far enough ahead to win any lottery tickets; just enough that you can dodge certain death. You’re also an extremely gifted healer, with a knack for controlling the plant life on Earth. (Not on Asgard, though. It seems like a power that only works here, but you don’t mind it so much. You like gardening, and yours is the most beautiful in New York, you’re certain of it.)

Unfortunately, both of you share a lot of that hardheadedness that drove Loki nuts when you were children. While your brother distracts the blood-thirsty alien that’s been trying to assassinate you, you had to duck down to take care of a wretched gash in your side. Your hands are glowing with the energy of your abilities, the wound slowly closing when your phone rings unexpectedly.

You answer it in a rush, taking a wincing breath now that you’re down to one healing hand. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me.” Darcy. Shit. “Am I interrupting something?” 

“N-no,” you lie. “But I can’t talk long. I’m, uh, at work.”

“Shit, sorry- are you okay? You sound like you’re hurt?”

“I’m-” there’s a very distinctly not human roar just outside of the warehouse you’ve hidden in. “Motherfucking- I’ll call you in a bit, okay? Promise.”

“Wait, what was-” 

You end the call and stand up, the wound half-healed and still oozing blood all over your armor. You raise your hands and roots burst from the ground, grabbing the creature by the ankles and yanking it downwards. Two more legs push out from its sides, scrabbling hard against the force of your powers.

It’s a damn miracle that you make it out alive. But, the alien threat is terminated, and being sent to SHIELD for an intense examination. Thor supports you as you enter the tower, looking proud but worried as you limp alongside him.

“I want you to meet Jane,” he says, making you nearly stumble on your next step. He catches you, though, a frown on his face. “And I want you to finish healing that.”

“Since when do I listen to you?” You tease, letting him ease you into a chair in the dining area. You move aside your chainmail and return to healing yourself.

“She has a friend you might enjoy?” He grins, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Ever since you’d come out to him, Thor has tried his very damn best to figure out the best girlfriend for you. His standards are higher than yours - which is saying something - and it isn’t often that he presents a candidate directly to you. Normally, he uses Natasha or Tony for that. 

You snort, giving him a disbelieving smile. “You’re trying to set me up with your girlfriend’s friend?”

“The one who tased me.” 

“Oh, now you have my attention. Should have led with that.”

“I apologize. I want you to meet my girlfriend and her best friend that tased me that I believe you will have a wonderful relationship with.”

“Now you’re just kissing my ass,” you roll your eyes, sighing with relief as the pain finally eases on your side. It’ll be tender for a while, but it’s nothing you can’t handle. “What did you have in mind?”

“Dinner. I’ve asked Tony to make arrangements-”

“Oh, man,” you groan, “I don’t have blacktie attire!”

“I’m sure Natasha will be happy to help you.”

You want to protest, but he just looks so damn hopeful and you’ve never been able to say no to your favorite big brother. You sigh and nod. “Okay, alright. I’ll go.”

When you get back to your room, you call Darcy back and begin the slow process of removing the armor you’d been given by your brother when you reunited. She picks up surprisingly quick.

“Dude, what the hell?” 

“Sorry,” you apologize. “My job’s… intense.”

“What was that?” 

“Machinery,” you lie. You’re a filthy, filthy liar. Such a coward. 

“Liar,” Darcy accuses. “Seriously? I’ve been sitting here thinking you were dying for like, two hours!” 

“Sorry,” you apologize again. “I didn’t-” you pause, then sigh. “I didn’t want to scare you off, is all.”

“I’m a little difficult to scare off.”

“Okay, it was an alien.”

She actually laughs. When you don’t join in, she stops herself. “Wait, seriously?” 

“I sort of work for SHIELD.”

“SHIELD as in stole-my-iPod-SHIELD?”

“Uh, yeah…?”

Darcy exhales sharply. “And you didn’t tell me because I talk shit on them all the time.” 

“No! I didn’t want to tell you because it’s a weird job, Darcy. I’m weird.”

“Okay, edgelord, don’t get ahead of yourself.” 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” 

“I was starting to think you were an Avenger or something,” she scoffs off-handedly. Your chestplate slips from your hands clumsily, landing on the carpeted floor with a heavy thud. “What the hell was that?” 

“I dropped something.”

“So, what was the alien?” 

You stare at the piece of armor on the floor for a moment. “I’m not sure. It was spider-like, though. Lots of arms.”

“Cool.” 

Maybe you should tell her the truth.

(But what if that changes everything?)

Eventually, once you’re finished showering and getting ready for bed, you text the brunette.

Outgoing:  I’ve got dinner w my brother and his gf tomorrow he’s trying to set me up w the chick that tasered him

Incoming: gross. im going out w my best friend and her bf to meet his sister or something? idk her bf is hot so im hoping his sister is too

Outgoing: and here I thought I was the only woman in your life

Incoming: i will always have a place for u in my heart 

You roll your eyes and smile to yourself. You don’t want to ruin things by telling her who you are - what you are. You like this friendly flirting, the banter - you like talking with her, and sleeping on FaceTime together. There’s so much about this that you like, you can’t imagine altering it as much as you would if you were to reveal your true identity.

Incoming: But that DOES mean ill be in nyc so… I mean, if u want to meet up or something Maybe grab dinner the day after tomorrow? If things don’t go well with your brother-tasering date, i mean

Your smile widens painfully, a blush spreading across your cheeks just as quickly.

Outgoing: are u asking me on a date Dr Lewis?

Incoming: If i said yes, would u still wanna do it?

Outgoing: Absolutely

Incoming: Then it’s a date ;)

Your smile remains on your lips long after your eyes shut.

- - - -

“Holy shit, you look great,” Darcy’s jaw actually drops when she sees you. You’re leaving with Thor in ten minutes, and Darcy is just about to leave. Still, you’d decided to talk before your respective ‘dates’ to plan the date you were going to go on together. 

“So do you,” you note shyly. You’d both chosen to wear black dresses, though hers has a low-cut neckline that makes your eyes drift where they absolutely should not. Her lips are still red, but a darker shade than usual. 

Your own dress was strapless, and had a long slit up the side. Natasha says you’ve got great legs, and to show ‘em off. You told her about your date with Darcy, and she was beyond excited to provide two dresses. This one was the less-revealing one, because she apparently thinks you and Darcy aren’t going to be able to keep your hands off of each other.

After some quick small-talk, someone calls Darcy’s name and the brunette is off to go and you’re finishing up working your hair into something presentable. Finally, Thor comes to your room and you’re off to meet Jane.

You’re the first ones to arrive, the restaurant as bullshit fancy as you’d expect from someone like Tony Stark. You feel terribly out of place, stumbling alongside your brother as people eye you both with wide-eyed wonder.

That was also an issue to tackle when you go out with Darcy. The staring. It was complete blind luck that she hadn’t recognized you before, but once she starts seeing how everyone stares at you, it won’t be long before she questions your real job.

“There she is,” Thor exhales softly, that dumb lovey look on his face as he drags you obliviously through the staring public.

At least you get a section somewhat separated from the rest. Being an upscale New York restaurant frequented by the rich and snotty, you shouldn’t be surprised that they’ve got a whole section for ‘VIPs’. 

“Thor,” Jane stands, giving your brother a loving kiss before turning to you with a wide grin. “And you must be (Y/N).”

“Yeah, that’s me,” you return her smile. “I’ve heard a lot about you!”

“And this,” she steps aside, revealing her companion for the first time, and your entire body goes still with shock. “Is Darcy, my best friend.”

Darcy, who had been looking at the menu, looks up and then drops it the second your eyes lock. Her lips part in surprise, a heavy silence filling the space between you. You feel incredibly warm all of a sudden, and weirdly exposed. 

“Igottapee!” You blurt, practically running to the restroom.

Oh, nice going. Real smooth. You find out the possible love of your life is your brother’s girlfriend’s best friend that he’s trying to set you up with so you RUN AWAY AND HIDE IN A BATHROOM. 

You’re double-checking your reflection, wiping away any possible flaws in your makeup like a fucking maniac, when the door swings open and Darcy herself steps in. 

“When you said you worked for SHIELD I didn’t think you meant as a freaking superhero!” She exclaims in a very terrible whisper-shout. “I thought you were gonna be more honest with me?”

You take a deep breath. “I was gonna tell you tomorrow, on our date. This isn’t something I can just spring on somebody.”

Darcy looks ready to argue, but seems to think better of it. Her shoulders sink, and she takes a long moment to look over you. “You’re right. But still, holy shit… this is so weird.”

“You tased my brother,” you realize with a giggle. Darcy’s eyes widen, and then she laughs hard. 

“I tased your brother!”

You’re both laughing like absolute idiots, now. Absolutely hysterical, clutching your sides and bending over with the force of it. When her hand reaches out to balance herself against your shoulder, a sharp static shock runs through your system.

“Holy shit, they set us up on a date with each other,” you gasp, finally able to take in her appearance in full. She’s fucking gorgeous. Not that she isn’t on the phone, but there’s something else about seeing it in person.

Darcy seems to realize this, too, her eyes raking over you and drinking in the sight of you. “Yeah, they did.”

You bite your lip. “Damn, I had a really nice dress for tomorrow.”

“This isn’t a ‘really nice’ dress?” She asks, eyeing the slit up your leg. “I’m pretty sure that costs more than my apartment.”

“It’s Natasha’s,” you explain.

“Holy shit this entire time you’ve been talking about the Black Widow-”

“Are you going to start freaking out about me being an Avenger?”

She pouts. “Aw, hey, I took this in stride! Can’t I freak out just a little bit?”

You sigh dramatically, pulling yourself up onto the marbled counter and crossing your legs primly. “Fine. Go ahead.”

“I can’t believe I’m on a date with an Asgardian,” it’s definitely not what you’d expected, but it makes you smile stupidly anyway. “Like, wow, I thought Thor was hot but you-” she stops herself, then blushes. “Wow, I must seem pretty underwhelming.”

“Not at all,” you admit, still smiling. “I think you’re overwhelmingly you, but in a good way.”

Darcy takes a nervous step towards you, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “That was corny.”

“But it was true.” You hold a hand out, slipping off the counter. “C’mon, before they think we’re doing anything but talking in here.”

“Pfft, I wish.” She sighs, a bit dreamily, and you pause in your next step, quirking an eyebrow at her questioningly. “What?” She asks sheepishly. “I’ve been thinking of kissing you for like, a month now.”

You laugh a little at that, your free hand moving to her waist. “You should’ve said something sooner.”

“What, are we gonna makeout in the bath-” you cut her off by pressing your lips gently against hers. It’s short, leaving her enough time to react before she’s kissing you hard. She’s stronger than she looks, somehow pulling you in close by your waist and pushing you against the counter again. You hum, drinking in the warmth and ease of her mouth against your own.

When she pulls away, you’re both wearing the same wide smile. 

“No more secrets,” you promise softly. “As long as I get to keep kissing you like that.”

Darcy’s eyes meet yours. “I’m so glad Jane didn’t let me eat those bar fries.”

- - - -

Tags! @nobody13​ @fireflyglass @swords-are-cool​ @artapdarkstr @pasta-bandit​ @multi-images​ @women-am-i-right​

[ennoshawty]

HQ CAPTAINS AS THINGS

i was bored and felt like doing a crackfic thing but i didn’t have any solid themes or good ideas

SO I PRESENT TO YOU - THE CAPTAINS. AS THINGS. IDK HOW TO WORD THIS BUT YOU’LL SEE AS WE GO ALONG.

warnings: VERY LONG, slandering a crybaby oikawa (lovingly), mentions f!reader, shitposting, mentions of violence in kita's, (a bit) yandere!kita, cursing, unedited, me being an idiot

officer!daichi

we are: vigilante/troublemaker

loving the enemies-to-lovers trope so much

nah bro you ain’t full criminal (bc my preppy ass could never) you just do the small vandalism things y’know like drawing peepees on government buildings and knocking over bins

u literally confessed to him by spraypainting the entire billboard by his workplace “I LIKE YOU” like way to go girl

He didn’t appreciate the creative graffiti but he rlly likes u so all u had to do was clean it and then next thing u know yall are out on a cute cafe date

but let’s talk about before yall got together

he’d CHASE u thru alleyways when he’d catch you writing “police sux” on the fuckin wall

bro is NOT AT ALL afraid to jump onto the roofs it’s FRIGHTENING to see this huge ass police officer storm after u

HES SO FAST HOT DAMN WOMAN HOW DO U GET AWAY FROM HIM??? USAIN BOLT WHOMST???

you’d almost always get away by a hair - he’s SO SO close

and it frustrates him but excites u oooooo arrest me shawty

and this would continue for a while

but yall have such fun fun banter - you’d tease him and he’d say something back and you’d bolt and he’d chase

some days he’d catch you. but in those times u slip away somehow

he’s having so much fun and doesn’t even know it

and then at one point he doesn’t even care about bringing u to justice anymore. he knows it’s bad for business and it’s unprofessional but he’s so attracted to u

he doesn’t even know it. HES IN DENIAL!!! his mind: “oh i’m just asking about her so that i know her motives” bruh no u just asked about our fav pastry this aint about crime anymore

and when he finally gets it,,,DINGDINGDINGDING SOUND THE ALARMS !!! MAN IS WHIPPED!! he’s more shy around u awww,,,doesn’t even want to chase u anymore but he will still engage in banter w u.

yall get a little peace treaty in the lil crush stage - you both are kinda aware of ur feelings towards each other but don't really wanna mess it up and jeopardize whatever's going on like bros PLEASE JUST KISS ITS INFURIATING

it’s more of a competition to see who will break the other first (and you lost he’s too hot)

he lets u joyride his cop car in an empty parking lot <3 he is the one <3 this is true love

u gotta marry him right now bro no excuses

u are no longer on the crime side of the law,,,u support him and only him fuck the rest of the cops (i’m jk of course...or am i)

u are his badass sidekick <3 unofficially of course until he marries u

u help him with the small things like helping lost children find their parents and helping old ladies cross the street

but you want to do the FUN stuff - chasing thieves and arresting drunkards.

unfortunately, he loves u too much to put u in danger so he keeps u from doing the dangerous things

after some protesting later, he trusts u to take care of urself. and now yall have a competition just like old times - whoever catches the most baddies at the end of the month wins (he WILL scold u if ur too reckless though)

THE TWO OF U ARE JUST GOOD COP BAD COP UHAHAHAHAHAHA

but it’s much more complicated than that - it’s either ur the laidback one and he’s the strict one or ur the fiery one and he’s the person like “calm down”

PLEASE HE HATES BRINGING U TO INTERROGATIONS he’s trying to be serious but you keep making him laugh istg he has to kick u out each time

u still make him laugh when u pout-glare at him thru the glass

bro says he’s not the stereotypical cop but the moment u surprise him with donuts and coffee in the morning he will make out w u right then and there

even though yall dating he still won’t let u play with his equipment

but sometimes u grab his walkie talkie when he’s not looking and prank call the others

and his coworkers know by now they’re like “oh it’s daichis gf” and go along with it HAHAHAHA “this is alpha 1, daichi just contracted ligma, over.” “roger, but what’s ligma? over.” “*inhale* LIGMA-” *daichi takes the walkie talkie back*

his coworkers are chill lmaoooo they love u two as a couple THEY ARE VERY SUPPORTIVE they planned a surprise anniversary party of when u joined the force (unofficially)

the juniors tanaka and noya are jelly ooooo but they respect their captain <3

u loooooove hanging out w the starry-eyed new recruit hinata and he’s bouncing around asking u personal questions “how did you date the commander!!! what’s he like as a bf??” he also accidentally exposes how much daichi talks about u in the office before he drags him away and murders him off camera

he does get u a walkie talkie that’s just connected to his line, tho. for emergencies. it’s ur second phone basically that only has his number in it

daichi LOVES it when u massage him after he’s had a long day but his shoulders are stiff as a statue,,,he’s also super stronk and can carry u anywhere <333

IMAGINE HE HAS A POLICE DOG - he doesn’t, but he’ll get one of his buddies to bring u a k9 unit so u can pet it and when he sees how happy u are he considers getting one PLSSS IT WOULD FIT HIM HELPPP

bro is VERY strict on safety. bulletproof glass in yalls house. alarms + cameras everywhere. trackers on every device. underground bunker. (just kidding lol)

daichi teaches u self-defense and gets u a bejeweled taser for ur bday <333 MARRY THIS MAN RIGHT NOW OR I’LL-

in other words i love daichi and he is husband material WIFE ME UP BUDDY

househusband!oikawa

we are: girlboss sugar mommy

somehow you tamed this bish to becoming your obedient malewife

and by obedient i mean whiny but compliant

IS MORE ATTACHED TO YOUR BLACK CARD THAN TO YOU. I SAID IT. THE TRUTH.

sure, he’s pretty and gives affection sometimes but the only time he’s bein cute and snuggly w u is when a new fendi purse came out and he wants it

his specialty is cooking but he’s so lazy he’s all “just get the maid to do it”

please give ur workers a raise he’s so demanding

when you take him to ur business parties hes ALWAYS bragging about you and ur large house with this and that and his favorite: indoor hot tub. he always brings up the indoor hot tub.

only reason you bring him is cuz he’s pretty and he whines when you leave him alone for too long

yall cant even stay for too long - he’ll practically drag u out of the building and whining that it’s too hot and his suit is too stuffy and to call a limo

he’s not afraid to embarrass u if u dont give him what he wants and he will spit out food at a formal dinner if its not to his liking

probably in competition w househusbands! makki and mattsun about who gets the best house so he’s constantly begging u for an extension to the house “please babe!!! makki has-” “no.”

8/10 times throws tantrums in public and 1465/10 times throws tantrums in the house

he wants to cry for the sake of crying. one time he lost his shirt and he wouldn’t stop bawling for 15 min

please find him a hobby

crybaby . the moment u give him the glare of death it’s over. but he’s got a cute crying face which makes up for his annoying whimpering

like he made the mistake of throwing a temper tantrum in the mall only for you to glare at him with a look that said “we’re discussing this when we get home and you’re gonna get your ass beat” and walk away. immediately stopped what he was doing and he was running after u, sniffling and mumbling apologies

please humble him and have him sleep outside. the couch is too luxurious to banish him to. he made sure of it himself. it’s reclining and has charging ports. he will not learn his lesson that way

does NOT want you to get a pet or a kid or even another sugar baby/househusband - he wants to be the center of ur attention

speaking of which he HATES it when you work for too long or work overseas. when u come back he’ll pout at u and give u the petty silent treatment

don’t bother trying to comfort him he thrives off of it and he’ll keep going so u can keep paying attention to him. if u just ignore him back he’ll come crawling back to u. “WHY ARE YOU IGNORING ME IGNORING YOU?? DO YOU EVEN LOVE ME ANYMORE???”

one time yall got into a fight and he was all like “since ur being a rude mommy i’ll just find someone else !!!” inside u were like “oh god finally” but instead u said “okay”

ohmygod he panicked. he was rlly expecting for u to fight for him,,, but he doesn’t want to admit defeat first so he tries to go thru with it but you literally dont care. even when he has his chanel luggage packed and he’s standing by the door ur just like “ok bye bitch”

So he’s trying to stand by the door and wait for u to say that ur joking. ur not.

“fine! I’m leaving now!” “okay.” “...*sniffles*” “tooru, go.” “WAAAAH NO IM SORRY I DONT WANT TO-”

u knew this was going to happen sadly. u even hid the keys to all of the sports cars u own just in case he was actually going to go thru with it

tries to get in the gossip circle with the neighborhood trophy wives but they don’t think he’s cool enough. they like u though. they think ur hot asf and oikawa doesn’t like them no more bc theyre hitting on his ATM. but thanks to that u know all the gossip and shit even though u don’t ask for it

Every time u pass by a store where he thinks he wants something he’ll just cling to u and give the puppy dog eyes. like it could be out of nowhere and u see it and you’re like “where. which store.”

bro once he went luxury he never went back. he wouldn’t EVER step foot into a grocery store ever again congrats he’s been bimbo-ified

beat him with ur gucci belt pls it’s so funny

also please please PLEASE discipline him. tell him it’s NOT okay to just randomly purchase the entire swarovski store or to throw a party at ur house just bc he’s feeling petty about u being at work for too long. ofc he’ll bitch about it but you need to be firm

but don’t worry,,,he’ll get the idea when u take away black card privileges and slap him around (lovingly)

now he has to ask permission like a good boy. he’ll kneel and hug u and give a lil pout and whine

you got a bigass man child i’m sorry maam u should’ve picked tobio or ushi

ceo!kuroo

we are: secretary

bruh keeps it mostly professional during work hours

but that all gets shedded off like a snake when we on break

one minute he’s all “get these papers done by today or i swear on all that is holy i will destroy you” and then later he’s all “hey sweetheart wanna grab a cup of coffee”

flirty flirty FLIRTY FLIRTY AAAAA HES A MENACE

but you’re less than impressed bc y’know when the time clocks out and its time to go back to work he’s ruthless once more

HUMBLE HIM FOOL only when you’re on break though

will NOT stand for anyone else in the workplace bullyin u - NO WAY. only HIM

he’s got TONS and TONS of dirt on everyone in the office - NO ONE is safe so they wouldn’t even dare

RIP janet from accounting

that dumb bitch made the mistake of insulting u to ur face and in front of him. never heard from her again

it’s not even limited to the other employees - he’s not afraid to go off on a potential business partner if they dared disrespect you

bruh tries to call u on ur off days for the most randomest shit and to get ur attention

*picks up phone* “sir?” “ah! my favorite secretary ever! listen, i need you to grab my pens from my desk at the office and bring them to my place.” “...with all due respect, it’s 2 am, sir.”

but u have to comply with his ridiculous demands cuz he’s the bank

and he depends on u completely. as much as he hates to admit it - u have his schedules, itinerary, provide coffee, performance rates, stock info, you name it.

once u were out sick and he had the worst management - he’s not used to working without you

def tries to get some of ur workload off of u bc he’s worried that the stress of working for him made u sick + he doesn’t want to go thru scheduling again

prolly gets bored in meeting rooms and sends u little smirks and wiggles his eyebrows and weird looks while he’s sitting and ur standing in the corner like bruh pay attention

maybe sometimes he’s secretly makin fun of the presenter and doodling on his spare sticky note something funny to make u crack a smile

he’ll tease u for it of course “oh, secretary! you should be paying more attention! what would you do if this was important?” bruh i can multitask now keep airdropping me ur selfies i’m saving all of them (news flash: u dont save his dumbass selfies otherwise his ego will inflate too much)

sometimes likes to pull u aside from work to hug u - you say it’s highly unprofessional but he says it’s his stress reliever

you ALMOST got caught by one of the newbies and he was kabedon-ing you

he tries to play it off (since u were embarrassed too) but u know better,,,DO NOT LET HIM FORGET ABOUT IT he turns red and embarrassed every single time USE THIS TO UR ADVANTAGE !!

never goes into an elevator without you bruh is so attached to u n holds the doors open for you

but you have to open normal doors for him if he doesn’t know how it works (hint: manual doors. “why isn’t it opening on its own?” “sir, there’s a handle.” “but?? what does it do??”)

bruh acts like a dumbass sometimes so you can baby him :/// wtf man just because you’re rich doesn’t mean i’ll- ...wait...how much did you say…? that many zeros? HAND ME THAT FORK YES I’LL FEED YOU COME HERE- HERE COMES THE AIRPLANE BITCH

brings u to overseas trips and he spoils u too

no matter how much you insist that you’re ok he gives u a lot of luxurious items. “think of it as a bonus from me.” NOW YOU JUST HAVE A COLLECTION OF NICE SHOES/BAGS/JEWELRY AND HE LOVES IT WHEN YOU WEAR THEM TO WORK IT MAKES HIM SO HAPPY UGHHHHH

BRUH just a sugar daddy at this point “you have to look presentable for the next focus group so here’s a nice rolex watch” “sir, i don’t need-” “ah ah ah - it’s my treat.”

it’s pointless to refuse him but he still teases u for it like what???? “if i didn’t know any better, secretary, i’d say you’re just doing it for my money and not my fabulous looks and personality.” “exactly.” “hey!”

yall go for drinking parties a lot. whether with the whole branch or just the two of u

KARAOKE W KUROO AFTER A LONG DAY OF WORK <333 becomes a ritual between the two of u

he’s so silly when he’s drunk lmfaoooo goofy ass mf

but that’s only when it’s the two of u. he controls his alcohol around others and his uncool side is only for u <3

also ur the only one he trusts to take him back to his place and handle him

it’s the other way around too - when u drink a lot he looks after you <333

you have a higher tolerance than him and sometimes u have competitions between the two of u on who can drink more but then yall always end up shitfaced

HES the one who has a crush on you

you know the drill - gaslight gatekeep girlboss

he’ll do anything for u but wouldn’t ever admit it he simp

offers u the keys to his estate and offers for you to LIVE with him

bruh just marry me already ok WAIT WE’RE NOT EVEN DATING YOU NEED TO WORK ON THAT SIR-

he’s so awkward tryna confess to u,,,he may be this big hotshot ceo but he’s acting like a schoolgirl in love

probably prints u a confession when he asks u to go to the fax machine lmfao what a nerd

in other words ceo!kuroo is a nerd and you need to top him immediately get that bank

dog hybrid!bokuto

we are: owner

Husky-malamute breed!!! BEEG DOGGIE VERY HAPPY N DROOLY <333

OVERLY HYPER. JUMPS ON ANYONE AND U AT ANY GIVEN MOMENT

he’s well trained i swear but the moment he sees something of interest then i’m sorry you just lost him

please if a robber came in he wouldn’t even attack them he’d just tackle them w hugs

he loves loves loves snuggles <333 u busy? nope!!! hug time!!! cooking something?? oo lemme see!!! whoops look at all those tomatos on the ground. u got a deadline coming up and u really need to focus?? CUDDLE TIIIIIIME- w-wait - huh?? why are u shoving me off?? do you - do you not - huh?!?! WHY ARE YOU LOCKING ME OUT OF THE ROOM?? NO!!!! I LOVE YOU!!! IDK WHAT EXAMS ARE BUT I WANT CUDDLES!!! HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME????!!!

the WORST things u could ever do to him is leave him and call him a bad boy

HE CRIES ON THE SPOT </3 HOW COULD YOU </3

soso bummed when u go out of the house without him </333 waits by the door patiently waiting for u to come back </333 sob sob

the moment he hears the door unlock he LEAPS and his tail is wagging like CRAZY

he is SO STRONG. almost always knocks u over whenever he jumps on u

destroys EVERY toy u bring him. u leave him for 5 seconds and there’s stuffing all over the floor and whatever u brought him is nonexistent

tugs on the leash when u walk so much that it SNAPS

loves romping w the other dogs in the dog park but he needs to tone down on his friendliness he almost killed a lil orange chihuahua

gets distracted by EVERYTHING. ooh, squirrel! oo, butterfly! OOO HUMAN CHILD!! MUST EAT!!!

ok while he might be friendly, he still gets super super jealous. you both were outside and u were petting the neighborhood black cat and bruh almost swallowed his head

which u thought was weird bc the two are normally friends and are pretty nice around each other

so now he’s more feisty around him and any other cat that’d get ur attention

If it was a person, then that’s another thing. He’d be very friendly at first but then slowly realize that ur attention is more directed on them than him. then he’d go ballistic

but when u scold him for practically assaulting the poor dude and call him a bad boy,,,he’s lost it

u have to lock him in the other room and he’s crying and whimpering, scratching at the door. all he wanted to do was protect u from that bad bad man who took away his owner’s attention !!!

def snarls at the dude next time he comes into ur house/apartment...dude never came back

“GRRR” “AAAA GET UR FRIGGIN DOG B-” “he don bite” YES IT DO GET UR-”

doggie bokuto rlly tries to be slick...it doesn’t work. like he tries to do that thing when he’s a total demon towards the guy but then act like an angel around u but it doesnt work bc he’s not smooth

doggie intelligence: 2 IQ. one time u got him a puzzle box and hid a treat in it but bruh couldnt figure it out just straight up monched the entire puzzle simply bc he smelled his fav bbq treat in it

speaking of intelligence - he only knows how to say a few words like ur name and incomplete sentences. speaks in barks and whines and sometimes a word

SO BIG THAT HE GRABS FOOD FROM THE TABLE WHEN YOU’RE NOT LOOKING

u had some delicious beef steak? oh dear, where did it go? there’s ur puppy kou with steak sauce all over his lips

big fan of hiking trips, sports, literally anything that involves going out

he LOVES getting dirty outside playing. boi cant control himself from rolling around in the mud

hates baths at first but then he likes how u spray the water on him and giggles awww he likes bath time now

we all know he’s not the brightest pup of the pack but,,,he’s somehow psychic. he knows when ur taking him to the vet

HE THROWS A BIG FUSS ALL THE TIME - sometimes he tries to hide but his huge tail under the couch gives it away

and he knows when ur thinking of taking him on a walk. he also begs u to take him outside by settling his head in ur lap and pouting until u give him what he wants

he likes the big ol doggie sweaters/pjs u buy him...but he always ruins them. no matter how much u buy him, they’re all ruined. he complains how scratchy it is and it feels weird on him

knows LOTS of tricks but if u teach him more than what he already knows he will forget one of them he’s like a damn pokemon

he feels ur emotions :((( if ur mood is down his tail droops :(( and he gives u cuddles and tries to make u feel better

he even likes to make a fool out of himself and be silly if it makes u laugh :((( he’s so precious

in other words i love doggy bokuto

pirate!ushijima

we are: kidnapped

ah yes we’re are captives of the most fearsome pirates of the seas: shiratorizawa

just so you know, tendou was the instigator. he was all “let’s kidnap a noble’s kid and get the ransom money!” (whether you actually are a noble or not is up to you)

thing is, nobody’s willing to pay (if you aren’t a noble) or the pirates really pissed off the folks in charge and are now doing a manhunt

so yeah you aren’t going back anytime soon

but he’s a pretty good sport about it - very hospitable

he notices the little things u like and gets them for u <333 sighs <333

he saw you reading that book? wow look at that, there’s suddenly a stack of them and the same genre he saw you reading

but you definitely shouldn’t test him. he’s SUPER scary when it comes down to it

you saw how ruthless he was with the rogues that had dared to challenge him on sea

mf made them walk the plank

you help on the ship bc u wanna be useful and also shirabu keeps being mean

he asks u to teach the crew how to read cuz theyre dumb as shit and only know water and treasure

speaking of treasure - when he leaves u on the ship to explore a cave, he gets u really pretty jewelry <33 anything u ask for

“oh, welcome back captain. how was your mission?” “i brought back a few trinkets i thought you might like.” *reveals whole chest of priceless gems* “are they to your liking? if not, we can set sail for something else that might interest you.” “I-”

bruh got a pet eagle - u ask the crew and they dont even know how tf it happened

hell, even he doesn’t know how it happened wtf. “oh. one day it flew down to me and i fed it. that’s all.” wtf

equivalent to diluc’s bird - he didn’t even give it a name so he gives u the honors

U name him rigatoni (you got a great naming sense btw)

oh my god oh my god oh my god HE TRIES TO PROTECT U WHEN PPL WERE TRYNA INVADE THE SHIP

it was the first thing he did no cap - burst into ur room and scoops u up <33333

“what the-” “we need to get you to safety. we are under attack.” and holds u close to his chest AAAHSIDHFPSDHFN OH MY LORD YES

HAS THE TEAM GIVE U SELF DEFENSE LESSONS AFTER THAT

tendou tries to give u a sword but ushi says no “she could hurt herself.”

“but ushiwaka! we can teach her not to hurt herself” “...it’s my orders.” “c’mon, be more honest, ushiwaka! what’s the real reason?”

he goes quiet then looks at u “...i’ll always be there to help. she’ll have me.” AOISHSDHFSNDF

HELPPPPP SIOJFDSKFJP HES SO CHARMING AND HE DOESNT EVEN TRY

but the rest of the crew are like “then what’s the point”

but tendou sneaks u a dagger just to be safe

sorry ur apart of the crew now - but they’re like a family even if they did kidnap u

oh whatever your life before wasn’t as cool as this (no offense)

they are given orders to protect u at all costs

speaking of which - ushi isn’t all that great w guns

almost blew his own head off tryna figure out how it works before reon snatched it from him

he brings you with him to towns and cities and he likes taking u to the markets to get you stuff

ushijima tell me your love language is gift-giving without telling me your love language is gift-giving-

he finds out you’re pretty good at bargaining and brings you onshore a lot more

is mesmerized at how you absolutely BERATE the merchant who was tryna rip you off like sis where is this violence coming from??? he loves it??

he also likes to stop by some pretty islands and imagines just settling down in such a nice place w you <333 SIGHS <333 VERY <333 LOUDLY <333

no matter how much he likes you...he will NOT let you drive the boat under any circumstances </3 its his livelihood c’mon man

whenever you have to stay on the ship while he’s away he sends rigatoni to give messages and the two of u talk thru messages

speaking of which rigatoni is fierce and can definitely sink his talons and his sharp beak into any bastard that dares get near you while the captain is away

wakatoshi “swimming is for pussies” ushijima - he’s water resistant

bruh so powerful he walks on water

second coming of christ who

IM JUST KIDDING he does swim but we hardly ever see it

legends say (tendou says) he looks rlly awkward doing it and only knows how to doggie paddle

speaking of our homeboy tendou - he loooves spooking the team (and especially you) with scary stories . don’t worry tho - this is all a ploy to get the beeg pirate husband to comfort u at night ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) he is ur wingman u can count on him. but his suggestions are ridiculous

“Jump off the deck and see if he’ll catch you!” um excuse me- THOU SHALT NOT PUT BIG HUSBAND TO THE TEST

he’s got good intentions...i think…

but everyone literally knows he would dive after you

in other words pirate!ushijima is a softie at heart but goddamn he probably secretly has a pet shark so dont test him or u goin overboard

mafia leader!kita

we are: associate from different group/family

kita highly respects u and yall have been acquainted since u were young with the alliance of ur families

so in a way ur childhood friends but yall do have lil bit of friendly rivalry a bit

arranged marriage whuuuutttt...yeah thats what happened but u love him <3

nobody else knows about ur arranged marriage but you two

POLITE GENTLEMAN <333 !!! HNNNNNNNN his granny raised him right even tho he’s a mafia leader

RICH BOY RICH BOY RICH BOY- ALWAYS DRESSES DASHINGLY AND SMELLS GREAT MMMMMM

he owns the majority of the underground casinos

and has lots of connections with others. countless, might i add.

you on the other hand specialize as an arms dealer so he cherishes your services the most

prob has the traditional tattoos allllll over his back and shoulders w like a dragon or sm and def a fox or kitsune

when u two were little he asked ur favorite flower and GOT THAT TATTOOED ON HIS BACK <3 probably secretly has your initials hidden in there somewhere

u both have a silent understanding of each other and he talks to u more than he does anyone

before he used to smoke but once he figured out that you didn’t like the smell of cigarettes he quit just like that

his underlings, the miya twins are so confused on how kita switches from totally brutal and ruthless to so soft around u

they can’t tease him for it, though, cuz he’d pulverize them

but they want to know more about u,,,you mysterious enigma,,,but kita would kill them if they dared asked about you

so they go to inarizaki’s most secretive informant/cyber mercenary, suna rintarou

and suna knows all about you. he saw you one time and he was curious about who you were and is now rlly scared of you because he dug too deep and you’ve got LOTS of history

he doesn’t dare tell the twins what he found no matter how much they bug him

until they bribe him at just the right price

and when aran finds out and tells kita?? ohhh boy it’s lights out for all three of them

oh my god ,,, would kill for u he loves u so much

one time you were kidnapped and held hostage

bro saw red

MAFIA ANNIHILATION SPEEDRUN ANY % NO GLITCH

he got world record time

wiped out the entire conglomerate behind it - nothing and nobody left behind after that

and of course, made sure you were safe.

yandere? ofc not...i mean...just look at him...so innocent...he would never...sharpening that knife...with splattered blood all over him...

is now joined at the hip with u,,,no matter how much you tell him you’ll be fine now and that you have tons of reliable bodyguards he won’t let it go

“don’t you have to go back to your place?” “this is my duty as both a fellow associate and your future husband.” aww,,,ur so sweet...but BRUH PLEASE GO HOME ARAN IS DOING EVERYTHING OVER THERE

makes sure to build a headquarters DIRECTLY NEXT TO YOURS so that its faster

and it’s not long until he just signs a deal to merge ur factions together (since yall getting married anyways)

and oh my god...ur underground wedding is SO SO PRETTY

absolutely DOESN’T care if he’s smuggling jewels from different countries - he’s having your ring CUSTOM MADE and the way you want it. “the diamond is too small? sure thing, darling, i’ll have it 7 times that size.”

makes sure everything is perfect in ur wedding <333 its very extravagant and even though its not really his style he’ll do anything for you

he absolutely WOULD take your last name if you wanted. FIGHT ME ON THIS

takes you to his private island for ur honeymoon so that the two of you don’t have to worry about work

meanwhile aran is scrambling around the place trying to cover for the both of you

he’s a VERY romantic husband - NEVER takes off his ring even for security. he says its practically a part of him just like you are <3

the ring has a built in tracker connected to an app. possessive? noooo...

in other words this escalated pretty quickly but i aint complaining if it gets me married to kita

--

--EXTRA EXTRA!! other characters’ roles!!--

officer!daichi:

karasuno squadron consists of:

cops: daichi (duh), asahi (mostly patrol, he hates confrontation), tanaka & noya (mostly accompanied by ennoshita), hinata & kageyama

investigators/detectives: sugawara, ennoshita, yamaguchi, tsukishima, kiyoko, yachi

surveillance: narita, kinoshita, tsukishima too

househusband!oikawa:

makki and mattsun are also househusbands

iwaizumi is a malewife fhasodjkasdhf-

ceo!kuroo:

lev is the newbie that walked in on u two-

janet still a bitch

kenma is his fellow ceo buddy. he also owns a multimillion dollar company and kuroo’s and his have a sort-of contract so you see him a lot in meetings

yaku is like one of the top performing managers so whenever yall have branch meetings he’s there

dog hybrid!bokuto:

kuroo is the black neighborhood cat bokuto almost murdered cough cough i did that on purpose yes i did

kenma is also another neighborhood cat. you don’t see him around that often but now that bokuto got jealous he stays far away.

hinata is the orange chihuahua i briefly mentioned

i couldn’t decide whether akaashi would stay human and be his previous owner or also be a cat/dog/owl. so lets say he’s ur human friend that is your bestie and comes over a lot. bokuto likes him, though. still gets jealous a bit.

pirate!ushijima:

tendou is practically is right hand man

the rest of the team have something to give idk how to explain pirate team members okay-

BUT BUT BUT- they do have sea rivals which are the seijoh pirates. you ran into them one day and oikawa thought you were kidnapped (you were, but you liked it there) so he tried to do you justice and failed miserably. ushijima ragdolled him into the ocean when he flirted w you.

mafia!kita:

the twins are something akin to mercenaries basically. or just plain lackeys.

suna is an informant/cyber mercenary. he gathers information about ppl which is how he knew about you. and he’s a hacker lol.

aran is his second-in-command, omimi + ginjima are his bodyguards

a/n: im going to regret posting this

[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.” 

[libraryofloveletters]

‘Till My Last Dying Breath

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Warnings: CM level of violence, guns and the use of, mentions of injures, blood and kidnapping and like one swear word. 

Category: Angst 

Word Count: 2.2k

Author’s Note: Some good old 3am Hotch angst, very on brand for me :) 

----

Love was like alcohol. Some people have the occasional drink and they’re happy. Others prefer to stay away from it for various reasons while others need it. Need it to function, to get through the day, to feel something. 

An addiction. 

He was an addiction and one you’d have ‘till your dying breath.

His face, his hands, his touch, his smile, you needed him in every sense of the word. Aaron was the one thing holding you in place and he didn’t even know it. For someone whose job it was to notice the little details, he was oblivious to his own life and your feelings. 

You clung onto his hand as he leaned over you, “hold on, the medics are almost here” his other hand was pressed to your side, covering the gaping bullet wound in your side. “Aaron” you breathe, “y/n, don’t. Save your strength” 

“You can't save everyone Aaron” you whisper, your grip beginning to loosen on his hand.

The panic in his eyes isn't as well hidden as he hoped, the red liquid staining his shirt sleeve and his hand. Your breathing slow and weak, you were slipping and slipping fast. 

“I can save you. It's my job” he breathed, his words barely coming out, he worried if he spoke any louder he’d hurt you more than you were already hurt. Seeing that it was his fault that you were in this position anyways. 

It should have been him. 

An Hour Prior 

“Did you find anything ?” Hotch’s voice carried across the room as you walked back in with Spencer. Spencer shook his head and you opted to actually answer him, “lead was a bust, there isn't even a house there” 

“What do you mean there’s no house?” Derek spat, “Didn’t Garica say there was?” 

“Okay relax, I know she did but there isn't so what do you want me to do?” you rolled your eyes and sat down at the table. 

“Cut the attitude l/n, we’re all tired. Get it together” Hotch said, harsher then he’s ever spoken to you. 

The case was getting to everyone, the team had spent the last five days in a small town in Colorado. They had been looking for three missing women, one had turned up dead and the other was alive but not without signs of trauma and abuse. The third one is still missing and the girl who had survived didn't seem to have answers or remember where she was coming from. The frustration began to set in and everyone just wanted to go home already. Derek was on the phone with Penelope trying to figure out where the missing house really was. The room was quiet other than JJ and Emily going over the theories at the end of the table. “Hotch, Garica’s sending you another address” Derek told him, he nodded. 

“L/n you’re with me, let’s go.” 

You held back the urge to roll your eyes as you followed him out of the station, the two of you drove in silence. You wanted to know why he spoke to you that way, no matter how upset he was, he never did so what changed today? “Seriously, what’s your issue ?” looking towards the man in the driver’s seat. His permanent look of seriousness on his face, his brows furrowed slightly. “What issue ?” 

“Why’d you tell me to cut the attitude? Derek started it” 

“Derek is a grown man, he’s been a part of this team longer than you. Know your place” 

“My place ? Are you fuckin-” 

“Be quiet, we’re here and there’s someone outside” he stopped half way down the street on the other side. The two of you looked at the house that Garica sent the address too. There was a man outside, smoking on the porch, his clothes covered in blood. “Do you think-” “yeah, we go in on my count” Aaron told you, strapping his vest on. 

You weren’t one to wait for directions, hence why Aaron was upset to begin with. He wasn't exactly pleased when you got out of the SUV and sprinted to the house. Gun drawn and pointed at the man, he dropped the cigarette and ran into the house, following after him. 

“FBI! Stop!” you sprinted up the stairs as he ran. The sound of a door slamming and Aaron’s voice in the background were the only sounds you were hearing until a woman screamed. You pushed on the door but it was locked. You tried slamming into it with your shoulder but it wouldn't budge, taking a step back before you kicked the door with everything in you and the door swung open and slammed into the wall. The man’s head shot up, he leant over the girl who was strapped to the chair. 

“Let her go” you tell him, your gun pointed directly at him as you slowly make your way into the room. You take in the room, the smell of old blood and rotting flesh fills your nose, enough to make your eyes water and make you gag. You held yourself together, looking over at the girl. She was strapped to the chair, the rope around her soaked in blood and every inch of exposed skin was now hues of purple, blue and black. There were gashes in various parts of her body, no doubt she had taken the brunt of the beatings as none of the other girls looked as wounded as her. 

“I can't” he whispered, his hand brushed across her cheek, she whimpered. 

“She’s innocent, she didn’t do anything to you” you take a step closer, lowering your gun. Aaron’s heavy footsteps echoed through the house. “What was that?” the man’s head whipped in your direction, his eyes flickering back and forth through the doorway. “Nothing, you stepped on the loose board” your heart pounding in your chest as the man made his way towards you. No matter how many times you did this, it didn't get any less scary. Your gun raised again, pointed at the man who was in front of you, your eyes flickering to the woman in the chair.

“Any closer and I will shoot you.” 

“I’m not scared of you” he smiled mischievously at you

“And I'm not scared of you” you reply, deadpan. 

“You shouldn’t be. I would never hurt a beautiful person like you.” His words sent chills down your spine, not the good kind either. Aaron appeared behind you, his sudden presence startling the man, his reflexes kicking in as he grabs your gun and pulling you towards him.

“What are you doing here? You aren't supposed to be here” the man had your gun pressed to your head, right against your temple. Aaron’s gun was pointed at the man. “Let them go” he tells the man, who again, does not do as he’s told. “Move,” he waves the gun in a sideways motion, “let me go and you can take the girl” he steps forward, pushing your body as he moves. 

“I don’t want the girl, I want agent l/n back” 

The man froze, he was evaluating his options. Let you go and he gets to keep the girl and the other option is to die. There was no way in hell he was going to give up without a fight, “I'll give you the girl and your agent, if and only if you let me go” 

Aaron’s face twisted before it relaxed, almost like he had given in. You knew Aaron better than the unsub did, hence why your beating heart settled when he gave you a look. A look of certainty, of trust. 

“Go,” he stepped from the doorway, “let them go and you can go” 

“Nuh uh, I'm taking them down with me, that’s the only way I know you’ll let me go” 

Aaron nodded, the man pushed you down the stairs with him. “Why are you doing this?” you ask him, the gun was still pressed against your temple it was surely going to leave a mark.

“Doing what sweetheart?” he breathed, his breath hot against your ear making you feel disgusting and uncomfortable. 

“Why did you take those girls? I need to know” you didn't care, you were buying Aaron time. Time to check on the girl, to get back up to the house, to get you out of there. You trusted that man with your life although he was the biggest pain in your ass. 

“I needed them” he gives you a simple answer.

“Needed them for what?” 

“To satisfy my needs” 

“And what needs are those ?” you question him again. 

“You sure are a nosy bitch” he grumbles. 

Aaron’s steps shake the house and he runs down - basically jumps down the stairs. His gun pointed again at the man behind you. “I gave you a chance, you’re still here. Let them go or I will shoot you” Aaron says, the man laughed wickedly. 

“No thanks agent” 

“I’m not asking you again” 

Aaron's gun clicked, the trigger pressed slightly. The man loosens his grip on you slightly, your gun is now pointed at Aaron. 

It all happened so fast, the sound of the trigger being pressed behind you was enough to make you move to the side, the bullet went in through your back and out the front of your stomach. Aaron’s gun goes off next, the sound of multiple shots ringing through the house and the man behind you falling to the ground, the gun dropping from his hand. You were in shock, your hand pressed to your side, Aaron’s gun still pointed at the man as he stepped towards him, kicking the gun from beside him. 

Aaron’s gun clicked once more, a single shot echoes through the house before you fall to the ground with a thud. He turns and you’re on the ground, hand clinging to your side as the blood slips through your fingers. Aaron’s hand replaces yours, his other hand coming up speaking into the coms, calling for medical backup. Your vision blurry and your body weak, you reach for Aaron’s hand. Your blood soaked one wrapping around his. You clung onto his hand as he leaned over you, “hold on, the medics are almost here” his other hand was pressed to your side, covering the gaping bullet wound in your side. 

“Aaron” you breathe, 

“Y/n, don’t. Save your strength” 

“You can't save everyone Aaron” you whisper, your grip beginning to loosen on his hand.The panic in his eyes isn't as well hidden as he hoped, the red liquid staining his shirt sleeve and his hand. Your breathing slow and weak, you were slipping and slipping fast. “I can save you. It's my job” he breathed, his words barely coming out, he worried if he spoke any louder he’d hurt you more than you were already hurt. Seeing that it was his fault that you were in this position anyways. 

It should have been him. 

“Hey, you know I-” you start, his other hand brushes your hair away from your forehead. “No, I know.” he breathes, a small smile on your face. If this was your time, so be it. At least you’d go looking at the man you loved. 

Your eyes felt heavy, fluttering close. Aaron’s hand patted your face a few times, “hey, stay with me. Hear that ?” the sirens blared but they sounded far, you knew you wouldn't be able to hold on much longer. 

You knew you weren't going to make it. 

This was it. 

“Aaron,” you mutter, a cough cutting off your words and the blood spattered onto your cheek. “Y/n?” Aaron called, his eyes glued to you. “I- I,” your breathing was heavy, it hurt to speak. “What is it?” Aaron’s look hurt, the sadness visible on his face, it hurt you to know that you’d be leaving him shortly. 

“I love you” you admit, the last words you’d speak to him.

Aaron’s expression softened, a faint gasp leaving his throat. You look at him one last time. The way his hair flopped over his face, his blood soaked hands, the way his hand felt pressed against you and lastly, the expression on his face when you told him what you had been dying to tell him since you met him. Aaron’s voice rings through your ears, “I love you too” the last words he’d ever speak to you and the last words you’d ever hear. 

A dying confession of love seemed a fitting way to end things. 

You love him and you always will, you loved him until your last dying breath. 

Your love for him was an addiction.

He was an addiction and one you couldn’t seem to quit, one that was with you ‘till your last dying breath.

---

Taglist: @mac99martin @aaron-hotchner187 @fanofalltheficsx @luke-alvez @iconicc @lieberhers @pumpkin-reads​ @katexrichardson​ @sluttytears​ @thelukealvez​ @scandinavian-punk​ @pagetsimp​ @morcias​ @shotarosleftpinky​ @mrs-dr-reid​ @hqtchner​ @averyhotchner​ @willlemonheadsupremacy​ @mggsprettygirl​ @simxican​ @ssa-autumn-hotchner​ @potter-reid​

[idesofrevolution]

Here y’all go. Hope you like it.

Look at him, isn’t he adorable? I’d been watching him and his college friends playing ball every Saturday from my balcony. Each time, I’m hearing him talk about “slamming pussy” and “playin’ the game” as if he knows what that means. Jock boys always think the world of themselves, and sometimes for good reason. Every now and again, I look back on my own days at that age, fondly remembering all the bullshit trouble got myself into. I’m telling you- once you hit a certain age, you just want to relive those debaucherous days again; and hearing this little shit wasting those years degrading the ladies... I knew I could do so much better with his assets.

So into my mind popped a little idea. We’re living in a world of infinite possibilities, and using a few tricks and a whole lot of ingenuity you can really access some more unattainable goals. For instance, knowing the local voodoo priestess can be an invaluable advantage. Miss Marie had lived across the hall for as long as anyone could remember, and she had the respect and fear of everyone she met. So for a few hundred dollars and debt or two to her, she gave me a little gris gris which she insinuated could help little old me up my game. 

With bag in hand, I had to make my move. That Saturday I watched with bated breath as the boys were shooting hoops and talking shit until the sun went down. When the streetlamps went on, one by one they departed and left the ladykiller waiting on his Uber. As he sat there flipping through Tinder on his phone, I whispered the incantation that Miss Marie had taught me. Three times I repeated it, never once breaking my gaze on him. Upon the fourth recitation, I saw him suddenly throw his phone on the ground in rage. He tossed the basketball across the street and started to pace back and forth. Calling down to him, I “checked in on him.”

“Hey! You alright?” He looked up to my balcony and grimaced. 

“Shut the fuck up ya fruity bitch! Phone’s dead that’s all! Mind your business!” I chuckled and leaned against the railing, watching my hateful prey unknowingly within my clutches. Thinking his Uber was on it’s way, he sat down on the curb and pouted to himself. Five minutes turned to forty minutes and with his ride nowhere in sight, he played right into my hand. “Ay! Fag! Got a charger or somethin?” A smirk crawled across my face and I waved him over to my building and buzzed him up.

Now truth be told, I had no idea what to expect. Marie didn’t exactly explain how the gris gris would work, nor did she break down how to initiate the plan. So when he knocked on my door, I’d be lying if I said I was entirely understanding of what I was doing. I swung the heavy old door open and there he stood. Glistening with sweat and a scowl on his pretty boy face with his beat up skateboard in tow. 

“So where’s the charger?” He looked me up and down, disapprovingly looking at my big belly and old biker tattoo sleeves. Back in the day, I rode with my crew from coast to coast, fuckin’ every stud, twink, and bear that came my way. But the years hadn’t been too kind to me, and from the look on his face he sure didn’t see me the way that those boys back then did. Convincing myself to swallow my pride, I tossed him an iPhone charger and pointed him to the living room outlet. Plugging it in, he plopped down on my couch, and completely ignored my existence. Muttering under his breath, I could tell his Uber had cancelled.

“You can stay here until your car gets here.” I leaned against the hallway arch, taking in his steaming muscles. He clearly worked out in addition to all the days and hours of basketball. And damn... did he smell like hours of and hours of basketball. It was my favorite scent- raw testosterone, absolute masculinity, untempered musk; and his was STRONG.

“Bet your ass I’m getting the fuck out of your creepin’ ass house when this car gets here.” He thought he was so hood, so badass. He had no clue. Soon, though, he’d learn how to be a real man. Soon he’d be more than just a basic pretty boy frat kid. He started coughing gently, trying to hide it behind his phone screen, but the coughs grew louder and heavier. “Yo, get me some water!” I smiled.

“Get it yourself, bitch.” He whipped his head in my direction and tried to jump up, but realized he could barely move. It was as if he had no breath. “Oh, you’re feelin weak, huh? Why don’t you call your friends and they can come pick you up.” He tried to reach for his phone, but his arm had all but given out. Panic set in behind his cruel, mean spirited eyes and for the first time I saw him for who he really was behind the muscles, good lucks, and put on swagger: a little homophobic bitch who was in over his head. I walked over to him and plopped down on the couch next to him. His smell was strong and virile, full of youthful pheromones that he knew were a gift straight from God. I tested the waters and lifted his limp arm, exposing his wet pits. Assaulted, I tell you, I was assaulted by the sharp fragrance that poured from the hairy confines. He could do no more than a whiny whimper as I buried my nose and tongue into his armpit. 

“Well, fuck, kid. It’s been a fuckin’ bitch knowing you. But it’s gonna be one hell of a good time bein’ you.” I saw the last of his pathetic consciousness fade away. Where it went I neither knew nor cared; all that was left was his empty, hollow husk. Curious, I brought my fingers to his plump lips and pried. A sound I can only describe as stretching elastic rang through the room as I pulled and pulled. Looking inside, he was hollow, albeit padded with slick flesh that outlined his impressive musculature. Letting go, his face snapped back to normal. He was ready.

I eagerly stripped, thinking of all the adventures I could relive from within him; thinking of the numerous opportunities that I could snatch with his glorious body and my confident mind. Laying him down, I stuck my toe into his mouth and pushed. After a few thrusts downward, my foot slid down his throat. It took a solid minute for me to weasel my second foot into the tight confines of his slimy mouth and down his throat, but they were soon both slipping down his torso, through his muscled legs and landing in his tight feet. I was several sizes larger than he, so his tiny size 7s felt like a pair of tiny, wet rubber socks to my size 13s. Yet, after a little adjusting, they looked amazing at my size. I brought one to my face, pressing the damp soles on my nose, taking in the salty, rank funk that emanated from between his toes. I stood up, his mouth around my ankles making my a little wobbly. I grabbed his waist and pulled up, watching his legs slip over mine. The sheer size of my pudgy calves and thighs seemed to be suctioned into his, adding my mass to his musculature. He would be so much better at my 6′2 than his 5′9.

After a hefty tug, my bloated ass was sucked into his, tightening and firming into an ass any stud would kill to plow, and anyone would kill to plunge their tongue into. Sauntering over to my mirror, I saw a toned, gorgeous lower half, with my tubby top pouring over our waist. My cock was pressed tightly against my groin, since I’d forgotten to slip it into his when my ass was... compacted. I stuck my meaty hands beneath our skin and tried to grab my shaft, leading it towards his. The kid wasn’t packin’ anything impressive. I guess his ladies didn’t have high standards for dick. But I’ll tell you when my thick rod was slurped into his, it was like I was thrusting inside the tightest fleshjack I’ve ever used. Looking down, I smiled at a girthy, 10 inch, uncut fuckstick. I swiped my finger underneath my new foreskin and took a deep sniff. Fuck. Yes. It was unreal. The cocksmell was so strong yet so addictive, it was as if it was dripping manliness in odorous form. 

I knew that there was building pressure from within, and that the midsection would be the hardest thrust. So, I readied myself. Getting my footing underneath, I took a deep breath and held it in. With as much strength as I could muster, I tugged upward and my bulging belly was gulped into his skin with a loud “shlorp.” This took my body a moment to adjust, with a hefty beer gut protruding from my stomach, but after a deep belch, a set of washboard abs was there before me. To my surprise, and glee, some of my tattoos had transferred to my new skin, which gave me hope for the sleeves I’d grown to love.

Speaking of which, it was time for me to thrust my arms into his, which seemed entirely easier than my stomach. I slipped on his arms like gloves, the sensation of touch returning to my fingertips as they slipped into his. Looking at the mirror, it seemed only a fraction of my sleeve transferred over. Oh well, better than nothing! His shoulders snapped over mine, and I stood there in all my nude glory- with his jaw around my throat. I was ready. I was so ready to begin anew. I grabbed the jaw, matching his bottom lip to mine, and pulled his face over mine like a silicone mask. It suctioned to my head and within seconds I opened my eyes to a new man. 

I was incredible. My face was an amalgamation of both our likenesses, the best of both worlds. I winked at my new self, testing out my old cocky smoulder. I still got it, and hell, I would be using it a whole fuckin’ lot. A knock on the door woke me from my eyefucking and walked over to the door. Opening it, there stood Marie. She looked me up and down and rolled her eyes.

“Well, well, well. Look who’s a bonafide stud once again.” I smirked, and let her in. “Phew... Boy you’re fragrant. But then again, I’m sure the boys you fuck are into that sort of thing huh?” Smiling, I lifted my arms, and took in my scent. Better than poppers. “Now, let’s get down to business, shall we? You agreed to the terms, now it’s time to pay up.” I plopped down on the couch, preparing to hear the terms of my debt.

“What you need, baby?” She grabbed me by the cheeks, looking her straight in the eye. All color must’ve flooded from my face.

“Your big blue eyes aren’t gonna get you anywhere with me, son. You are to do as I say, do you hear me?” I nodded silently. “I need followers, boy. Followers. Those who are willing to do what I need done, and in exchange... I’ll add them to your little crew. When I tell you to get something done, I need it done, you hear me?” I nod. “Now when I say go get some more boys, ma cher, you understand what I’m saying, yeah?” I smile as she lets go of my cheeks. “Enjoy your immortality, baby. I’ll be in touch.” With that, she tosses me some clothes as she walks out my door.

It’s been three weeks since that day, and the old man in the flat is nowhere to be seen. His ‘son’ Sebastian has since taken over the lease, and become something of a staple in the community. Always makin the ladies swoon, and the guys drip. Always there to end a fight with a swift K.O. to the chin. Always happy to help a down-on-their-luck neighbor. But most importantly, always looking for new people call ‘family.’

WELP. Introducing a potentially new recurring character: Sebastian the Voodoo King. Let me know what you think of him through asks, and what you’d like to see him to HERE. Have a dope day, kids. Hope this is everything y’all wanted.