#a couple of people have already reached out about jobs so that’ll be fine

[abronzeagegod]

I quit the job

The argument was long, circular, and bad

But at last it is done

#I feel so much better and lighter #but also very jittery with anger and adrenaline and no food and too much coffee and not enough sleep #a couple of people have already reached out about jobs so that’ll be fine #but I’m gonna take the weekend to just chill

[aestheticsfandomsandmore]

I noticed many people are feeling pretty angry at the writers right now, for how they handled PatPran’s conflict. First of all, for introducing us to Pat’s fear (I don’t want to admit to myself that I can’t live without him) without every really foreshadowing it; second of all, for having Pran say that he’s insecure, that he doesn’t feel enough, that he believes Pat puts more effort in their relationship than he does (and well, all of this was already pretty obvious from other scenes in both Bad Buddy and this crossover), but then having him do nothing about it and wait for Pat to be the first to say, ‘I can’t live without you’. 

I will try to explain these scenes and the reasons behind them, but I do want to clarify something first: unlike the 12 Bad Buddy episodes, these ones were rushed, and not as well written. I’m not as disappointed as other people and I don’t think they ruined the show and/or the couple with these specials, but I do wish they’d done a better job conveying these messages. 

Pat loves playing the hero, even Pran tells him (in episode 11) that it’s one of the reasons why he likes him. 

We’re used to Pat being vocal about his love for Pran, and that’s what put so many people off—why would he feel insecure about saying those words out loud, when he’s always been sincere and has never had issues expressing his own feelings? And you’re right, of course, that’s one of the many differences between Pat and Pran’s personalities, as established in the show.

But! Pat telling Pran how much he loves him, Pat being there for him, Pat always taking Pran’s feelings into consideration and putting them first, Pat protecting Pran, Pat being ready to lose in case his win might put Pran in a tough situation, Pat yelling his adoration for Pran on the stairs of the Architecture faculty... all of this is a way for Pat to be Pran’s hero, to be the strong one, the one who’s willing to yield because he knows that’ll please his boyfriend, the one who’s straightforward and who never hides the way he feels. 

And yes, we did get some quotes from Pat in ep 11 about how much he likes that Pran always fights alongside him and never leaves him alone, but that speaks a lot about partnership, doesn’t it? We fight together, we go through stuff together and nobody can stop us as long as we’re together. 

But then Pran starts having doubts, shows his insecurities; he knows that Pat always being there for him is fine and all, but let’s not forget that Pran isn’t used to this. Yes, they’ve been together for three years, and they faced a lot together, helping each other out all the time, and that’s why now Pran feels like he can let his guard down next to Pat. When Pran says, in episode 1 of OS, ‘No matter what problem I face, you’re always there for me’, he means it, deeply, and he isn’t ashamed of it at all, or at least until he hears Pat and his friends making fun of it, making fun of how much he trusts Pat, to the point that he’d be willing to rely on him, something he’s obviously never done before. And while he knows those are not words Pat truly means, he can’t help but wonder: ‘Am I doing enough? Does Pat feel like I’m a burden to him? Doesn’t he believe I can get things done on my own anymore? Have I got too comfortable with thinking he’s always by my side that I’ve reached the point where I need him by my side?’

Because let’s not forget that Pat and Pran are individuals that got together by choice, and by choice only. Ever since they were kids, they chose to break their parents’ rules and become friends, they chose the hard way instead of the easy path. So they’re choosing to stay together, going through the trouble of hiding their relationship again, and maybe Pran starts wondering whether Pat still thinks it’s worth it (let’s not forget that Pat answers ‘I have no choice’ when Pran tells him he’s grateful for his presence, and while Pat just meant that they’re meant to be together, that he couldn’t not love Pran even if he wanted to, that might also come off as ‘It’s the way it is, I got used to it’).

And that’s why in ep2 of OS, when Pat reminds him that he wants to help him because he’s his boyfriend, not because Pran asked (not because he has to, or because Pran needs him to, but because he wants to, because his choice is to stay beside him) the mood immediately changes, to the point that Pran gets super comfortable with physical touch again and they’re even implied to be sexually active (which may not sound important, but we saw how brutally Pran pushed Pat away when he still wasn’t in the mood and was still hurt and Pat kissed him, so I think it’s actually very important). 

Pran is still obviously insecure—and can you blame him, really? Pran has been in love with Pat throughout his entire life, he thought the mere chance of having any sort of relationship with him was nothing more than a dream, and instead got exactly what he wanted. But he never thought he deserved it, or that he was enough for it. He is clearly uncomfortable with how different their bodies are (despite Pat being horny for him all the time! Which kind of proves the point that until you’re the one who fully believes in something, it doesn’t matter if anyone else around you tries to convince you: you’re still gonna doubt), he knows he’s ‘a lot to handle’ (as Pat tells him himself in ep11, and please do not get me started on Pran’s face when he asks Pat why he likes him, as if he’s thinking ‘honestly, why on Earth would someone like you love someone like me?’), he asks Pat if he ‘were good’ after they made love for the first time, although I’m pretty sure Pat showed his pleasure pretty evidently while they were at it. There are still days in which he doesn’t believe his own eyes, think about that little moment in ep1 of OS when Pat agrees to give him the auditorium and his eyes shine and flicker with the same lovesick expression he had back when they weren’t even dating. We see Pran getting confident around Pat because he knows Pat likes him, because he’s somehow reassured that his boyfriend enjoys the way he is, which allows him to be more comfortable in his own skin (think about how smug he acts during more than half of episode 1 of OS). His confidence shutters when he hears Pat say those words and laughing with his friends about them; I think it’s perfectly normal that he got insecure after that, despite being fully aware that Pat did not mean what he said. 

And then you have Pat, whose whole identity is shaped around the idea of being the perfect son, the coolest friend, the greatest rival in history, realizing that he doesn’t just want to be with Pran all the time, to take care of Pran and to be there for him, to cherish him and make him feel loved and desired. No, when he takes his time to think about Pran’s insecurities, he goes like ‘He’s the one who’s worrying over whether he needs me too much or not, when I’m literally nothing without him by my side?’

Pat can only be truly himself around Pran. Pat only shows his weaknesses to Pran. Pat is only clingy to Pran. Pat wants to help Pran because Pran’s his entire world. Sure, he likes to play the hero; he likes to be someone the people in his life can rely on, someone who can be anyone else’s rock; but all of that means nothing in the face of the idea of losing Pran. 

And it’s terrifying to admit it! One thing is to say, ‘I love you so much, you’re the most important person in my life, our relationship means the world to me’, and something else entirely is to say, ‘I can’t live without you’. Our parents will eventually find out and they might try to get in our way again? That’d break me, break me completely, do you understand? I don’t know how to function without you. That’s what ‘I can’t live without you’ really means, we can’t live without air, we can’t live without food or water, and that’s how much Pran means to Pat (and how much Pat means to Pran), and it doesn’t matter how vocal about his feelings Pat has always been, and it doesn’t matter that they both already know (as Pat tells Pran!): to say it out loud is a different story.

Especially when you think about how important to Pat and Pran is that they’re equals in their relationship. Think about how much Pat was insecure in ep1 of OS when he realized Pran was so confident about the whole ‘play-competition’ thing, how sad he got when his presentation went down bad and Pran got the sponsorship. What gets him all happy again? The realization that he doesn’t need to be better than Pran at everything; the realization that they’ll always be there to help each other out, that what Pran did with him—helping him visualizing things as something different from what they were—was really the same thing he did when he helped Pran visualize a bus-stop that wasn’t even there yet. That’s why he goes from being so worked up about winning the competion to being once again willing to give the auditorium to Pran. 

So why does Pran feel so bad at the idea of needing me, when I’m literally so sure that I do? That makes him feel uncomfortable, and doesn’t allow him to fully accept the idea that he needs Pran so much, when he he isn’t sure that Pran needs him all that much and when Pran seems so against the possibility of actually needing him (also, take into account how much Pat belives in Pran! He doesn’t doubt Pran will find a solution to him and Phupha being lost in the forest for one second! Sure, he’s worried about him, but he also knows Pran will always handle things one way or another, with or without his help).

I think the miscommunication is evident, because Pran’s issue wasn’t with needing Pat, but with the idea that Pat might be starting to feel like Pran was becoming a burden to him. That’s why they should have talked this out, because Pat ‘can’t read his mind’, as he very cleverly pointed out in ep6. But while PatPran do have an healthy communication going on, I don’t understand why people were so upset that Pran didn’t feel like spelling it out, when it’s really not the first time he does that? Pat and Pran just happen to always get each other in the end, often without any need for words to come out of their mouths. 

I think the main difference this time was that Pat needed an answer. Pran already got an answer to his insecurities when Pat told him he couldn’t live without him, and Pran already knew how Pat felt because Tian snitched had already told him about his conversation with Pat. So, ‘Am i doing enough? Is Pat getting tired of me? Is the way i handle things, the fact that he’s the one who usually yields, something that’s tiring him?’, very obviously no. Pat’s not getting tired of him, Pat could never get tired of him (when you think about it, it’s also kind of the meaning of the ost that Ohm sings, and that’s supposed to be Pat’s answer to Pran’s song). 

Pran doesn’t need any other answer, but Pat does. He doesn’t in ep11, when he so very genuinely gives that huge, emotional speech to Pran, to which Pran doesn’t reply a single word, and that’s perfectly okay because Pat doesn’t need an answer to that. But Pat does need an answer now, and you can see it from the way he’s so shy when he pronounces those last two words, from the way he looks at Pran craving for something, anything, that will make him feel like him needing Pran is okay, because Pran needs him too. So that’s what Pran tells him, nothing more, and nothing less—although, he does say a lot more, by literally resting his head on his shoulder, asking for physical support, and physically supporting him at the same time, because that’s who they are, that’s who they’ll always be. Pat telling Pran he can’t live without him makes Pran feel like it’s okay if he can’t live without him too, it’s not something he should be ashamed of or afraid of. It’s just the way they work. Yes, they chose to be together, and now they need to—and there is no shame in that.

And it may look like Pran’s not putting any effort into this, but he so clearly is. Pran’s crying, you guys! Even just saying those few words out loud isn’t easy for him, all considered. He’s always been the one having an harder time expressing what he feels, this is nothing new.

EDIT: I guess I should have written that his eyes were watery, not that he was crying, since there were no tears in sight. I’m sorry!

And things will kind of always stay this way, if you think about it. Think about how even in ep12, when they’have been dating for ages and are fully adults, Pat’s still the one who goes to Pran’s bedroom, never the other way around. And that’s not—don’t you dare say it—something that shows how much more Pat loves Pran than Pran loves him: it just shows that people can show their love to each other in different ways, and that’s okay. 

#bad buddy #Our Skyy x Bad Buddy #bad buddy series #bad buddy the series #bad buddy analysis #our skyy 2 #our skyy x a tale of thousand stars #our skyy x atots #bad buddy x atots #patpran #pat x pran #phat x pran #pran x pat #pranpat #pranphat #pran parakul siridechawat #pat napat #pat napat jindapat #pran parakul #gia talks about bad buddy

[httphopewrld]

I Don’t Know What to Call This | (f/m/a)

Just Friends? Friends with benefits? Dating? Questions swarmed your mind when one of your dear friends, Allie, asked about you and Hoseok’s relationship. The truth was you didn’t know. You and Hoseok were close, knowing each other since elementary school, and considered each other friends. However, as you two grew older, maturing into separate professions—you a well-known fashion designer, and Hoseok a famous musician and dancer—you two had engaged in some intimate activities (sex—lots of it.) After Allie’s simple question, you had to confront your feelings. But were you and Hoseok ready to be more than close friends and f*ck buddies?

Pairing: friend/lover/bfhoseok! x female reader

Genre: slowburn fluff and SMUT

Rating: 18+ because there’s swearing and pretty detailed smut

Warnings: swearing and SMUT (one of the most detailed smuts I've written, and there's more than one sex scene.) Smut includes: switch!reader and switch!hoseok, grinding and thrusting, protective sex (USE CONDOMS, I cannot stress that enough), lots of kissing, ass-grabbing, dirty talk, a wee bit of choking on both sides, squirting, male and female oral, fingering and handjobs, vibrator use, cyber-sex, the reader uses dildo, slight degradation, and just lots of filth—YOU'RE WELCOME FELLOW FILTHY ANIMALS. Oh, and spoilers for the horror movie Hush. It's on Netflix if you haven't watched it yet. It is GOOD.

  Word Count: 16, 465 (wowie)

A/N: Thank you for waiting! It’s rushed, so expect some little mistakes here an there, but I’m happy with how it turned out. I hope y'all enjoy it! Also, Y/L/N means "your last name."

  Taglist: @kirbykook​ @kleritata​ @taestannie​ @jenotation​ @hemmos-obrien​ @zeharilisharaban​ @speed-of-wind​ @kawaisoraya​

⊱ ────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ────── ⊰

“You can move those over there,” you gestured to the left corner of the windowed room, where a pile of boxes waited. The move was going to take longer than you expected because the movers arrived a week later than your assistant, Rachel said. I really need to talk to her about this. You stressed in your mind, rubbing your temples. “Are you okay?” You looked up, vision resuming its focus on your friend, Allie. Allie, your friend for as long as you could remember, offered to help you move to your new building. She would help you manage everything, including the movers, tracking your company's items, and the layout you gave to her for said things while managing the company. “I’m just irritated at Rachel,” you noticed her confusion, “my new assistant.” She nodded, remembering, “Right. Why is she still employed?” “Because she’s new, and being an assistant is a tough feat. She’ll get it soon.” You reassured, “Rachel is a fast learner, and this is her first mistake. We’re prepared for the next show, though, because Westley's helping me organize it.” “Remind me who Westley is?” Allie asked. You sighed. “West is like my second brain. He helps organize the fashion shows, hire the models, find the venues, and secure the guest list. He has other people help him too, but he’s the brains of that. I create the fashion, and he finds a way to present it.” Allie nodded, “Gotcha.” Your phone rang, and you answered. “Y/N.” “Y/N!” Rachel chimed on the other end. “It’s Rachel. I’m so sorry about the mix-up on dates. It won’t happen again, I—” “I know it won’t, Rachel. You’re new, so I expected to slip up. I’ve gotten it taken care of,” you nudged Allie’s arm, and she smiled. “We’re luckily prepared for the next show in Vancouver, so you don’t have to worry about the mess up. All I need you to do now is make sure that my fabrics are coming in.” “Yes! They’ve arrived at the studio.” Rachel replied. "Fantastic. Thank you. That'll be all for now. Check on West if he needs anything." You ordered. “Will do, Y/N. Talk to you soon.” You hung up. The Vancouver show was in five months, giving you and your team enough time to design the clothes for the production and move to the new building. The show's theme was natural bodies of water and nature, a nod to Canada's landscape. The clothing catalogue would include various icy blue shades to represent waterfalls and warm emerald tones like flora and fauna. These colours would be encapsulated in elegant gowns and suits, worn by different body shapes, genders, and colours. The materials would be made from recycled fabrics from your previous shows and from your fellow artists. You were known for designing elegant attire, so it was best to keep to it. However, it was rare to see different sized, coloured, and gendered models on a runway; because of having to customize clothes to those models. Additionally, making clothes from recycled fabrics would be tough. “Okay,” you began, “I need to talk to my design team and plan out the gowns. Can I leave you here to deal with the movers?” Allie gave you a thumbs up. “Thank you,” you smiled, hugging her, “if you need anything, please call me or Rachel, or both. We’ll be back to help.” Before you left, a thought struck you. You turned around to face Allie. “I should just hire you.” She chuckled, “Why?” You scoffed, "Because you're here all the time!" You walked back to her. "Listen, you're the best manager I know. You can be my third brain. You already are, outside of work, so it would make sense." Allie seemed unsure. “I already have my job at Youth and Hope.” You grasped her hands. “You would be given a great wage, not just because you’re my best friend, but because you’re going to be busy with lots of work. You would be handling the management tasks, like West. You’d be given a good amount of vacation, trips for shows and meetings would be paid for—you could get that loft you always wanted downtown.” You wiggled your eyebrows, and Allie laughed. “Don’t I have to go through an interview process?” You brushed a hand through the air. “I can get someone to interview you and officially hire you. Once that’s done, you’ll start getting paid.” You checked your watch, and a quick rush of panic ran through you. “Shit, I’m going to be late. Consider it, alright! Let me know your availability, and we’ll schedule an interview!” “Okay!” She shouted back as you left. . . The coffee had become bitter. You weren’t sure if it was the roast or the fact that this was your fourth cup of the night. It had been a month since the fabrics arrived. Thanks to Allie, your friend and now employee, your move to the new building was complete; however, your designs weren’t translating as smoothly as you wish. "Fuck," you cursed, resting your head in your hands and rubbing your temples. The sketches waited in front of you—the measurements and ideas raking at your confidence. Your designs are redundant. You’ve done something similar last time.                                                                       Boring. Plain. You turned back to your mannequins, still bare. The theme was in your mind, and your design team reassured you that your sketches were fine, but it all felt fuzzy. “Y/N,” Rachel peered into the studio from the door, “there’s a gentleman here to see you.” “His name?” You asked, still looking at the mannequins. You heard footsteps retreat into the front lobby, then come back to the door. “Jung Hoseok?” You turned around, trying to contain your excitement. “Please send him in.” Rachel nodded, jogging back to the lobby. You heard a muffled “thank you” before heavy footsteps approaching your studio. Hoseok reached the doorway, beaming his signature smile. He wore acid-washed jeans, a baggy white sweater that matched his chunky light sneakers. His dark hair was slightly wavy and parted in the middle. A tote bag was slung over his shoulder. “Y/N!” He cheered, opening his arms wide. “Hoseok!” You replied, running into his arms and hugging him tightly. You couldn’t remember the last time you saw Hoseok—a year or two? “Fuck, how long has it been?” You asked him. He pulled away, thinking. “About six months?” Totally off. “Seriously, it felt longer than that.” You argued. Hoseok pulled out his phone and scrolled through his calenderer and photos. He made a ‘tsk’ sound. “Ah, see here,” he showed you a few photos of you two with his friends, who were also his bandmates, “six months ago, you joined us on tour for a couple days before coming back here. I have it also marked in my calendar.” He showed you the dates, which were marked with ‘💚Y/N’s visit💚.’ “Can Namjoon or Yoongi confirm this?” You crossed your arms. Hoseok mimicked your body language. “I can call them right now,” he challenged. You two stood in competitive tension. You succumbed. “You win this time, Jung Hoseok.” He playfully chuckled. You realized that Hoseok doesn’t live around here. “Wait, why are you in town. Shouldn’t you and the others be in Korea planning another album or something?” You speculated. “Our company gave us a month for vacation because we spent most of the year touring.” Hoseok sighed. “So, I decided to come to visit.” You hugged him again, happy to see someone who wasn’t your employee amidst this chaos of stress. “How long are you staying?” You asked, muffled against his chest. He paused. “Maybe a month?” You pulled away from him, shocked. “A month? Here? That’s all your vacation time.” “Yeah,” he replied, as if that wasn’t a big deal, “I didn’t want to travel to a bunch of places because the group and I have been doing that for almost a year—and it’s pretty chill in this area.” He sighed. “Besides, I don’t think many people would recognize me. The airport wasn’t busy, and I haven’t been swarmed by fans yet.” “Do you have a place to stay?” You asked. He nodded. “Yup! I’m staying at a fancy hotel. I got the suite at the top floor,” he made a gesture with his hand, indicating how high up his suite was. You playfully elbowed his side. "Wow, look at you, Mr. Famous. You can afford a top suite now. Are you sure you don't want to stay with me, though?” Hoseok dismissed your offer with a wave of his hand. “It’s alright, Y/N. Thank you, though.” He peered over your shoulder, “It looks like you’re busy anyway, so I think I’ll just stick to my suite.” He walked past you, over to the bare mannequins. “Are you preparing for that show in Vancouver that you told me about?” You nodded, relaying your theme and ideas to him. He smiled. “That sounds really cool,” he pointed to the mannequins, “but don’t you need some clothes for the show, then?” You rolled your eyes, chuckling at him for being a smart ass. “Yes, I do. I’m brainstorming some ideas right now, but I’m coming up with nothing. I have the design team coming in tomorrow with drafts, but I’d like to bring my own thing to the table, you know? I’m the main brain of this operation, and it’d be embarrassing if I come in with zilch.” You leaned against one of the tables, facing the mannequins. "The tough part is designing gowns that fit the right people, you know. Sure, you can make a collection of clothes, but they won't look good if they don't fit the models." You shook your head. "Maybe it's just tougher to design clothes for different bodies. I should just stick to one type of person and leave it at that." Hoseok walked up beside you, leaning against the same table and facing the figures. “Why don’t you find the models and then design the clothes?” You looked at him, surprised. “But wouldn’t that take a long time?” He crossed his arms, “Well, how many models would you need?” “We’re thinking around seventy. There’s going to be two changes within the show.” Hoseok nodded, and you could see him brainstorming. “Well, you have four months left, right? You and your team can make some drafts, cast the models, and finalize the ideas with said models. Which would take about a couple of months? You could do that while planning the show?” He paused, appearing to notice your hesitant expression. “Think about it. You’ve trained your team well enough to work on its own, right? That’s what you did for your last show, which was a success. You came in every day for a couple hours to make sure everything was in order, then focused on other things.” Hoseok grasped your hands. “You’re great at multitasking, so do it. It’s scary, but you can check on people every day to make sure everything’s alright.” You bit your lip, “I-I don’t know, Hoseok. That sounds like a lot of work—” “You did it last time, and it worked out just fine,” he gently squeezed your hands, “and I’m here for a month. I can help out whenever you need me. I’ll simply clean things up and fetch coffee if that’s what you need.” You laughed, “Like my intern?” “Yeah! I don’t know how to design anything or plan a fashion show, but I’ll do what I can.” He smiled. “You’re so much more than you think, Y/N, and if you need reminders, I’ll be here.” You smiled back at him, so grateful to have him here. “My god, you’re fucking sweet,” you scoffed, taking your hands out of his. Hoseok laughed. You pushed yourself off the table and faced him. “How did we even become friends?” You questioned. He actually gave it a thought. “You joined by dance club in elementary school, when no one else would.” He laughed so hard that he teared up. “I think we actually took club photos, and it was only you and I posing.” You laughed with him, remembering those days spent trying to breakdance to hip hop and presenting dance routines to your parents. “Yeah, that was before you joined that Music Academy in grade four, right?” He nodded, and you sighed, surprised you still remembered. Your mind came back to the present. “So, you’re actually okay with helping out?” You checked. “Why would I ask if I didn’t want to?” Hoseok replied. You tapped your index finger against your temple, “true.” “So, how much do you want?” Hoseok looked offended at your question. You chuckled. “Well, you’re going to work for me, so I need to pay you.” “It’s only just a month, though.” “Yeah, but—” “What about we see how much you have me do before you pay me?” He interrupted. “I might just have to fetch coffee, so you can just give me money on the spot.” You thought about it for a minute. Hoseok yawned. “This work talk is making me tired. Do you want to go out for dinner?” He looked around you, “Unless you have more work to do. I can always wait in the lobby for you to finish.” You brushed your hand through the air, “Nah, it’s okay. I’m pretty brain dead anyway. I need to be energized for tomorrow’s draft review.” Hoseok pushed himself off the table and clapped. “Awesome! Where do you think I’m taking you for dinner?” You bit your lip, trying to guess. “Sushi?” “Sushi it is!” He beamed. You grabbed your things and followed him out of the studio.

Both of you sat towards the back of the sushi restaurant, to Hoseok’s request. The waitress placed you two in a concealed booth, with drapes covering a small entrance.

You two had to take your shoes off before sitting down.

“Why did you say, ‘sushi it is?’” You asked, taking a sip of your water.

Hoseok opened his can of sprite, “What do you mean?”

“You asked where I thought you were taking me, I responded, and you said, ‘sushi it is!’” You reiterated.

He took a sip of his soda before responding, "It's a trick I learned from Instagram." He set his drink down. "You ask someone, 'where do you think I'm taking you for food?' dinner or whatever, and then take them to a place with that food. It's easier than asking 'what do you want to eat?' because people can't decide."

You nodded, making an ‘aaahhh’ sound. “Smart.”

You two caught up while eating your meals. Hoseok chatted about his bandmates and the tour, and you talked about your move to the new building.

Most of it was just adding more details about your lives because you two texted lots during the week and sometimes video chatted. You'd get to see Hoseok and his friends, and he'd get a view of your life on the other side of the world.

To others, it looked like both of you were dating. Both of your friends would tease, singing, "Y/N and Hoseok sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G." Many of his fans, ARMY, would theorize your friendship, pointing out the matching bracelets you two wore—which was later proved normal because Hoseok went live on Vlive making bracelets for his bandmates.

And you two would continually clarify that you two were strictly long-time friends. Nothing more.

Girls and boys can be friends. Simple as that.

You and Hoseok finished your meals. You two shared a few rolls and a bento box and were full.

“That was really good.” You commented, rubbing your stomach.

Hoseok chuckled, copying you, “I think I’m pregnant.”

You laughed, “Shut up! You’re so fit.”

“You’re right,” he replied, pulling up his sleeves and flexing his arms.

You both laughed as he flexed his muscles, which were significantly more prominent than your remembered. You were slightly jealous of his lean athletic figure.

And were gazing at it for too long.

“I don’t know about you,” Hoseok sighed, appearing to be tired from the food and flexing his muscles, “but I’m in the mood for some Ben and Jerry’s.”

Your eyes lit up. “YES.”

“Cookie dough with chunks?” You both said in unison.

You two erupted in laughter.

"I'll go play," Hoseok said, getting up.

You stopped him, “It’s alright,” you smiled, “my treat.”

Before you left the booth, you turned around and said thoughtfully, "But you're getting the ice cream."

Hoseok's expression conveyed the same seriousness as if a soldier on a mission.

He saluted you. “Copy that, Y/N.”

You saluted him back and left to pay.

The walk to Ben and Jerry’s was quick. Both of you were eager to share the tub of ice cream.

You ended up getting a chocolate chip cookie dough and a cherry Garcia pint, and two spoons to share. You both ate the ice creams with delight while walking back to your apartment building.

When arriving at your building, Hoseok handed you the cookie dough ice cream pint.

“What are you doing?” You asked while he gave you the closed pint.

He tilted his head to the side, confused. “What do you mean? I’m dropping you off at your place.”

You gave a shocked expression. “Dropping me off? We’re not even done our pints!”

“But you have work tomorrow. I don’t want to keep you up.” Hoseok stepped back towards the edge of the sidewalk. “I can catch a cab back to the hotel, don’t worry.”

You balanced the pints in one hand and used your other to grab his arm.

“You’re not going anywhere,” you said, pulling away from the curb and closer to your building.

Hoseok pulled his arm out of your grip. "Y/N, you need to be well-rested—"

“At least help me finish the ice cream.” You interrupted, holding up the pints that were now in both your hands, along with your spoon.

“We haven’t seen each other six months, and it’s only…”

Hoseok pulled out his phone. “Nine.”

“Exactly!” You expressed. “It’s only nine. I don’t need to be in until nine-thirty tomorrow morning. As long as you’re out by eleven, that gives me an hour to get ready for bed at twelve, and I will wake up at eight. Plenty of rest!”

You watched his unsure expression.

"If you don't want to go home at eleven, that's fine by me. Could you leave earlier? Or you can go back to your hotel if you want. I won't take offence; you know me." You held up your arms in surrender, ice cream pints still in your hands. "But if you're leaving because you're worried that I won't get enough sleep, don't. I'm a grown woman. I know how to take care of myself, and I want you to come in.

Hoseok bit his lip, appearing to debate the offer.

He sighed. "Fine, I'll come in. However, I don't want to get a text from you complaining about being tired in the morning."

“I swear,” you promised, pretending to draw an ‘x’ over your heart, “I cross my heart.”

Hoseok chuckled, and you led the two of you into your apartment building and into the elevator. You pressed the twentieth button, and you two waited in comfortable silence.

The elevator doors opened, and you two walked to your apartment.

You opened the door to your studio apartment, locking the door behind you two and hanging up your bag along with your keys.

“Want anything to drink?” You asked, setting down the ice cream pint in your hand and taking off your coat.

Hoseok set down the cookie dough pint on the coffee table. “Anything is alright, thanks,”

You hummed, getting both of you bottles of black cherry soda and bringing over the cherry Garcia pint and your spoon.

"Jesus, do you need help?" Hoseok asked with worry, seeing you holding the bottles by their necks in one hand and the ice cream pint and spoon in the other.

You chuckled, “It’s alright, just sit down.”

You two sat on the couch, twisting off the caps on your sodas and taking a sip.

Hoseok sighed. “That’s really good,” he gestured to the pop before putting it down on the coffee table.

“Yeah! They’re so addictive,” you replied, setting coasters under both of your drinks.

Both of you continued to reminisce about your childhood, especially middle school. The puberty years had been gruesome to you two, speckling your faces with acne.

You pulled out a photo album you kept on one of your bookshelves, which had pictures of your families and your younger selves—even photos when Hoseok was training, before debuting with BTS in 2013.

“Oh my god, look at you!” You gasped, showing him a picture.

In the photo, Hoseok arms were crossed over his chest, his attempt at having swagger. He wore a collared shirt, and his hair was short.

“Oh god, no,” Hoseok cringed, gently pushing the photo away.

You chuckled, "You were so adorable, always dancing and having a good time." You smiled. "You are such a hard worker, practicing so much. I remember you twisting your ankle but still practicing."

You looked at him tenderly. “I wish people could see that.”

Hoseok smiled back at you, softly touching your hand. You grasped his hand, feeling butterflies in your stomach.

He was the first to pull away.

“You remember our sleepovers?” He asked.

You giggled, "Yeah when you could leave that cramped place you shared with the boys."

He swatted your arm, “That apartment was good! It was where everything started.” He pouted. “Anyways, we would always look up deep questions to ask each other—or would you rather.”

You rolled your eyes. “Those questions were overrated.”

“I thought they were nice!” Hoseok defended. “We got to know each other more, like, ‘what is your biggest fear?’ or ‘what is your biggest pet peeve?’”

He must've seen your unimpressed expression because he continued, "You got to admit that you learned a bit more about me because of those questions!"

You sighed. “I did, I guess.”

Hoseok held up his index finger, seeming to signal ‘wait a minute.’

He pulled out his phone. “Let’s try some now, then.”

“Hoseok—”

“Come on,” he interrupted. “If you don’t learn anything new about me from the first four questions we do, then we can stop, alright? I will never bring up these questions ever again.”

You debated his offer.

“Fine.” You agreed, setting down the photo album. “Shoot.”

“Okay, but we both pick two questions and answer all of them. For example, when we ask a question, the other person answers before the picker.” Hoseok said while he scrolled.

You hummed, understanding his instructions.  

“Want to do would you rather?”

“Sure.”

"Sexy edition?" Hoseok wiggled his eyebrows. "Unless you're uncomfortable."

You scoffed. “Hobi, we're grown, adults. I can take a few sexual questions."

“Okay,” Hoseok replied, “but if you ever feel uncomfortable, we can choose another question or stop.”

You nodded, and Hoseok appeared to find what he was looking for.

“Alright,” he began, “would you rather bite someone’s ear during sex or bite someone’s lip during sex?”

This is pretty vanilla. You thought.

"Lip, for sure." You emphasized the 'sure' in your sentence, stringing along with the 'er' sound.

“Same,” Hoseok agreed while passing you his phone.

You took his cell and strolled through the website.

What do I choose? Do I just dive in, or go for the vanilla shit?

“Would you rather engage in foreplay or go right into the main course?” You asked.

Hoseok thought about it. “I would say foreplay. You can warm things up—and nothing is more fun than teasing.” He shimmied, making you two laugh.

You agreed, passing the phone to him.

“Oooo, here’s a classic,” he grinned, “top or bottom?”

“I think I’m a switch,” you replied.

He tilted his head.

“It’s like, you’re both, top and bottom. I like to take control sometimes, but I can also sub.” You explained. “You?”

“Top,” he replied, “for sure.”

You laughed, “You sound so against being a bottom.”

He laughed too. “I like pleasuring the person I’m having sex with. Nothing is more satisfying than making someone cum.”

“True,” you admitted.

You found your mind wandering to unholy memories of you and Hoseok. What was odd about your friendship that—to put it blatantly—you two had sex. Not just once, but a few times.

This is why asking these questions was pretty casual and not too surprising.

You two started engaging in sex a couple years ago. You were stressed about your company starting, and Hoseok was in town. He offered to help you relax, and before you knew it, he was drilling into you from behind.

Both of you agreed to stay friends but continued to have sex every now and then. It was great, you had to admit. Probably the best sex you had in your life, and it was good that you two were able to keep your friendship platonic at the same time. Only, it was sex without the romantic feelings.

To be honest, you were craving it again.

He passed you his phone again, and you tried to pick a good last question.

“Would you rather kiss me gently or kiss me aggressively?” You asked.

Hoseok paused before answering. “Depends on the mood.”

“Well, at this moment, then, what is the mood?”

You watched Hoseok’s eyes shift between your lips then your eyes.

“Aggressively.”

You hummed. “Good to know.” You passed him back his phone. “Last question.”

Hoseok chuckled, “You seriously didn’t learn anything new?”

You shrugged. “I guess not.”

He didn't seem bothered, though, when his body shifted closer to yours.

When he looked back up at you, his expression changed. Although his eyes were already an opaque shade of brown, they had darkened.

I know that look.

He smirked. “Would you rather make the first move or receive the first move?”

You bit your lip, gazing up at his body.

Before you could reconnect with his eyes, you heard his phone drop, and his lips were on yours.

Just like his answer, his kisses were aggressive and needy. You could taste the cherry cola and ice cream on his lips and mouth.

You pulled his face closer, wanting more.

Hoseok’s body language opened up, allowing you to get up and straddle his lap. You felt his hands inch up your shirt and tug at the fabric. He helped you take it off, which gave him access to your breasts.

You felt him undo your bra with a quick flick of his fingers, and you tossed it off without a care.

Hoseok let out a chuckle before claiming your lips with his.

His lips were intoxicating, and you wanted more.

“Please touch me,” you begged against his lips.

He hummed, grazing his hands down your back before roughly grabbing your ass. You moaned, and he held you against him, hard enough to feel him grind into you.

“Fuck, stop teasing,” you pulled away, and he laughed.

“Baby, I’m not teasing,” he smirked.

Baby. The term of endearment made your heart swoon.

You weren’t always this infatuated by Hoseok. But the way he came to visit you during his break, had dinner and ice cream with you, and kissed you this good—it made you want more than just a fling.

But you couldn't think that way. It was sex. You two were doing this to get off, not engage in lovemaking.

Hoseok swiped his tongue over his bottom lip, eyeing your figure. “You know what I want.”

You ran your hand up and down his chest. “What are you waiting for?”

Hoseok's hands came underneath your thighs, and he picked you up, walking you to your bedroom. He used your body to close the door, slamming you against it.

He ground himself against your core, causing you to moan louder than you expected.

You covered your mouth in embarrassment.

Hoseok chuckled, “It’s okay,” he pulled away enough to graze his thumb over your cheek, “I love it when you moan.”

You rolled your eyes, kissing him and grabbing his ass, causing him to grind on your core.

"Fuck, I can practically feel that you wet," he groaned, trying his best to hold you up and sturdy you against the door.

“B-bed,” you choked, one of his particular thrusts stroking perfectly against you.  

Hoseok moved you towards your bed and gingerly placed you down. He kissed down your bare chest and slowly took off your pants and underwear.

“Fuck, your perfect,” Hoseok awed, softly running a finger through your wet heat.

His cold finger sent a wave of pleasure through you, making you flinch.

Hoseok hummed. “So wet for me,”

He looked up at you. “May I?”

You nodded, but he only smirked.

“Words, baby,” he put a hand to his ear.

“Please,” you bit down on your lip.

You felt him spread your lips, and you clenched in response. He appeared to savour you, taking his time as he ate you out.

When you moaned, he’d hum, sending vibrations into your heat that brought you closer to your climax.

“Fuck, I’m close—”

He pulled away, licking his lips and gazing down at you.

“Hoseok—”

“You taste better than I remembered,” he commented. “But I want you to cum around me.”

God, I love his dirty talk.

You watched him take off his clothes. He must've been working out because he was more toned than six months ago.

He was about to line himself up with your entrance, but you stopped him with your foot on his chest.

You smirked. “Not yet, baby.”

You stood up. “Sit.”

Hoseok sat on the bed, your roles shifting.

“But I want—”

You interrupted his beg with your hand around his erect cock. He appeared to be speechless as you run your hand up and down his shaft.

“Hm?” You asked, chuckling lightly at how easy it was to make him submit. “What do you want, baby?”

“I-I wanted,” he stuttered, thrusting slightly into your hand, “to cum inside you.”

“Is that so?” You questioned, pulling your hand away.

Despite his vocalized want, he whined when you pulled away.

“I’m only doing what my baby wants,” you shrugged. “Condoms are in the bottom drawer on the right.”

Hoseok dashed over to the bedside table, rummaging for the condoms.

“Those should fit you, right?”

"Yes," he replied, opening the familiar wrapper and unravelling it on his erect member.  

He stood there for a minute, wrapped penis and naked, just fondly looking at your nude figure.

He whispered something under his breath.

“Hm?”

“Nothing,” Hoseok blushed. “You still want to fuck?”

“Yes.”

“Top or bottom?”

“Top please,” you smiled.

Hoseok laid down on your bed, and you climbed onto his torso.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he cursed as you moved off his abs and onto his cock.

A wet puddle was left on his abdomen, which he wiped away with his fingers, then putting said fingers into his mouth.

“So good,” he groaned.

You hummed in response, slowly sinking onto him.

"Fuck, you feel so good," you said when you bottomed out.

You started moving, swaying your hips back and forth. Each time Hoseok's cock would graze against your g-spot.

His hands were placed on your hips, guiding you on him. You could feel yourself clenching around him and your climax building up.

“I-I’m close,” you stuttered.

Hoseok swallowed, “Me too.”

“Ch-choke me,” you requested as you picked up your pace.

Hoseok grinned. “Only if you choke me back.”

You chuckled and rolled your eyes. Hoseok gently wrapped his hand around your neck, and you did the same, slowly applying pressure.

You felt your thighs burn from exhaustion. "F-fuck me," you cursed, slowing down.

Both of you let go of each other's neck, and Hoseok flipped you two over, still inside you.

"It's okay," Hoseok assures before resuming the pace.

His thrusts were rough and deep, and he pushed your thighs against your chest.

“Fuck, please keep going,” you begged.

“Can I choke you?” Hoseok asked.

“Please,” you replied, “do you want me to choke you too?”

“Yes,” Hoseok responded.

You felt yourself rhythmically clench around him. Hoseok must’ve realized because he began thrusting faster into you.

The room was filled with unholy noises. You could hear the wet sounds of your entrance and the impact of Hoseok’s hips against your core.

“Fuck don’t stop,” you choked out.

The knot building up in your abdomen unravelled, and pleasure and relaxation spread through your body. Your core gripped onto Hoseok like a vice.

“H-Hoseok,” you stammered, your core overstimulated.

“I-I want you to squirt,” he replied, continuing his firm thrusts.

“Oh,” you moaned.

He pounded deeper into your core, to the point where you could feel his tip ram against your cervix.

“Ah!” You screamed, feeling yourself gush around him.

“Fuck, so good,” Hoseok groaned. “I-I’m cumming.”

You felt the condom fill up inside you, and you felt disappointed that his cum couldn’t coat your walls.

His thrusts slowed down, and he stood still for a few moments.

When he pulled out, you shivered with oversensitivity. You knew that your sheets would be a mess and weren't looking forward to cleaning them when Hoseok left.

You looked up at the ceiling, breathless, while you heard Hoseok walk away from the bed.

“Where do you put your towels?” He asked.

“In the hallway, in the closet beside the dryer and washing machine.” You replied.

You heard him walk into the hallway and the closet door open and close. “Thanks,” he said. “And your bedsheets?”

“The closet in my room.”

You heard him walk back into your room, open your walk-in closet that led into your bathroom, and shuffle around. The tap ran in your bathroom for a couple seconds, then the sound of Hoseok wringing out something.

You began to sit up, but he hushed you to lie back down.

“Just relax,” he soothed, placing the clean bedsheets on your bedside table and walking over to you with a damp cloth.

“You don’t have to—”

He placed a hand on your thigh. “It’s okay,” he reassured.

You two exchanged a quick smile before Hoseok began to clean you up.

“You didn’t even cum on me,” you chuckled as he gently wiped your inner thighs.

“I know,” he replied, “but I still made you messy.”

When your thighs were no longer covered in your cum, you two changed your bedsheets.

“You good sleep in the same bed?” You asked while folding over your duvet.

“Sure,” He smiled.

You walked into your closet. "There should be some clothes that fit you. I usually wear men's clothes at home, anyways. It's crazy how great the quality men's clothes are compared to women's clothes." You picked out a t-shirt and sweatpants and tossed them at Hoseok.

He caught them, “Thanks.”

You two showered separately and spent the time getting ready together dancing to tunes.

If someone were to walk into the room, it wouldn’t look or smell like you two just had sex. You two looked like close friends having a dance party before going to bed.

Again, after you two had sex the first time, you both agreed to stay friends. It was easier said than done.

It was awkward initially, but you both were able to get past that by talking it through. Hoseok would ask how you felt during sex and what could have been better, and you would return the question.

Now, you both were able to have a good time and intimately learn more about each other.

Sure, it was strange, but it was a mutual agreement between consenting adults and fun.

The sex was fun—great, really—and you couldn’t have it any other way.

But you would be lying to yourself if you didn’t feel like something was missing.

.

.

“Good morning, everyone,” you greeted your fellow designers, “this is Hoseok. If you don’t know him already, he’s a well-known musician and one of my closest friends.”

Everyone welcomed Hoseok with a warm round of applause.

“Thank you, it’s a pleasure to be here.” Hoseok thanked.

“Hoseok will be helping out here and there while he’s vacationing here for a month,” you explained, “so take it easy on him.”

People shared chuckles at your joke.

"Anyways, let's start looking over the design ideas. You all are very talented artists, and I want you to remember that this is a draft, which means that these ideas are not final. If your idea is rejected, it's okay. We'll continue to work on a collective theme for the show."

The morning was spent listening to everyone's design concepts. To follow your reputation, the designs were contained within suits and gowns. As mentioned before, the theme was Vancouver's nature, where the fashion show would be taking place.

You and your design team used the recycled fabrics—which were separated by colours, textures, and materials—while figuring out your drafts.

You asked your design team to draft some ideas because you couldn't think of anything to present.

You were pleasantly surprised that your whole team had ideas that you approved.

“This a phenomenal,” you awed, “Great job, Erinn.”

“Actually,” you grabbed the attention of the other team members, “you all did a great job. We will be using all these ideas for the show.”

Your team shared cheers.

“Y/N,” Rachel nudged your shoulder, “I’m sorry to ask, but now that we’ve got the designs all in order, what about the models? You wanted to have various body types, right?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got that covered,” you whispered back.

You turned back to your design team. "You all know that this show is tougher than our last one because we are trying to include more body types, genders, races, just different kinds of people. Which means that we will need to cater our clothes to the models, rather than the other way around.” You smiled, “So you all can go home for the next week.”

You heard Rachel choke on her inhale.

"Although you all have the week off, I want you all to try drawing your designs on other body types. Experiment with materials and colours. Remember to take some of the recycled fabrics home with you, and feel free to come in to pick anything up. Just let Rachel and I know in advance, and we'll give notice to the front desk so they can let you in. When we reconvene in a week, which would be next Friday at nine-thirty, I need you all to be ready to translate your designs, colours, and materials to our models." You ordered.

“Any questions?”

Comfortable silence amongst everyone.

You nodded. "Awesome. Good luck, everyone. Contact me if you have any questions."

Your team started packing up.

“Y/N, does that mean we’re spending the next week casting?” Rachel asked.

“Yes, Rachel. Please contact Westly and schedule lunch tomorrow at noon to discuss modelling criteria. It’s probably going to be pretty loose, but we need to contact Westly before sending it out.” You answered. “If he’s not free at that time, try figuring out something later tomorrow. Then book a reservation for three at Romeo’s.”

“Alright, on it,” Rachel replied.

You turned to Hoseok, who seemed shocked.

“What?” You blushed.

He continued his surprised expression. “I haven’t seen you like this before.”

You chuckled. “How else are you supposed to run a company and organize and execute a fashion show in 3 months?”

Rachel tapped you on the shoulder. "Westly can do lunch tomorrow, at noon, at Romeo's. He and his team secured the venue with Vancouver Fashion Week and are currently collaborating with the interior designers to figure out how the place will look. West said he'll debrief you tomorrow, at lunch, about the rest of the progress."

You smiled. “Great! Thank you, Rachel. You can also take the rest of the day off.”

Rachel appeared to be stunned, not responding to your words.

You waved a hand in front of her face. “Rachel? You can take the rest of the day off.”

“Are you sure, Y/N?” She asked.

You chuckled, “I wouldn’t be telling you to if I wasn’t sure, would I?”

She gave it a thought. “I guess not.”

You grinned. “Just meet me at our main building tomorrow, at eleven-thirty, and we’ll go to Romeo’s together.”

Rachel nodded. “Thank you, Y/N,”

“No worries,” you smiled.

You and Hoseok watched her leave, leaving you two alone in the studio.

“I’m sorry, it passed my mind. You’re okay not joining us for lunch tomorrow, right?” You asked Hoseok.

He dismissed your apology by brushing a hand through the air, “It’s all good. You’ve got your shit to do.” He smiled, “It gives me time to tour around a bit, anyways.”

“Good,” you replied. “So, where to?”

You pulled apart the croissant, eating pieces one at a time. The butteriness covered your tongue in a warmth that mixed well with the iced coffee you and Hoseok shared.

The park was surprisingly empty, despite it being a Friday. Usually, it would be tough to find a spot decently away from others, mostly shaded by trees.

The inlet was a few meters away, allowing you two to see sailboats pass by. People also kayaked and canoed, and you could hear their laughter faintly on land.

Here, you and Hoseok would be shielded by looming trees and away from potential fans of Hoseok. It was a rarity to have those two things when spending time with Hoseok: privacy and security—peace and quiet.

“This is what you wanted to do?” You asked, finishing off the croissant.

He nodded, sipping the iced coffee. “Yeah. It’s quiet and nice here.”

You two people watched, enjoying the breeze and serene environment.

“I was thinking,” you cleared your throat, “about last night. Did you enjoy it?”

Hoseok set down the iced coffee. “Yeah. I always like hanging out with you.”

“I mean—the sex.”

He seemed shocked by your question.

“Yeah, that was good too. Why do you ask? You never brought up before.��� He pointed out.

Because I am growing feelings for my childhood friend, who I now have sex with for fun. This wasn't a part of the agreement, I know. We agreed to not grow feelings for each other and just have sex for pleasure. But it's inevitable to develop feelings for someone you have sex for, right? Like, there are probably people out there that can distinguish sex from love—and I guess it started out like that—but for us?

Am I crazy?

“No reason,” you sighed. “I just wanted to know if there was anything I could have done better.”

Hoseok turned his body to you, smiling. “It was perfect.”

He gestured with his arms for a hug, and you obliged. His cologne smelt of freshly peeled oranges; it was a pleasant fragrance, and you found yourself snuggling closer.

.

.

The past month went by in a busy blur.

The model casting went well. You and Westley found fantastic individuals to present your clothing line, which was in the process of being altered to fit those people.

The venue was secured, and the guest list was being made by You and Westley.

“Maybe invite Hoseok,” Westley suggested.  

You shook your head, “I can’t.”

"Why not?" He retorted. "The worse thing he could say is 'no,' and you can invite the whole band." He giggled. "Maybe I can meet Jimin in person."

You chuckled, “So that’s why you want me to invite Hoseok. Just because you made eye contact with Jimin for more than five seconds, it doesn’t mean that he’s into you. He’s straight.”

“How do you know?” Westley had a hand firmly on his hip.

“W-well, I haven’t asked him personally—”

"Then you can't assume he's straight!" Westley exclaimed. "The baseline isn't being heterosexual."

“True. Anyways, let’s get back to the guest list.” You chewed on your lip. “We have Harry Styles, BLACKPINK, Lizzo…”

Both of you ran down the list of a thousand attendees to the show in Vancouver. It was way smaller than fashion week or any of your previous shows, but it wasn't meant to be a big party.

Y/N [14:00]: Hey! Are you free and the boys on March 1st at 1 pm for about four hours, including an after-party until 10 pm, with food?

Hoseok [14:30]: Hiiiiii!! Sorry for the late text. I was asking the others. Yeah! That’s in 4 months? 🧐

Y/N [14:31]: Yeah, it’s for my fashion show. You can ask your company for that time? We’d provide the plane tickets and accommodation. You’d probably stay 3 days and 2 nights? You’d fly in the first day, sleep the one night, then attend the show the second day, sleep the second night, and fly out the 3rd day. I’ll need to know by the end of the week.

Hoseok [14:32]: Sounds good!!! I’ll ask my managers and let you know 👊

Y/N [14:33]: Awesome! Thanks 💚

Hoseok [14:33]: Np 💚

“So, Hoseok and the boys can come, but he has to confirm with his managers. He’ll let me know soon.” You relayed to Westley.

"Great! As long as we get confirmation from Hoseok at the end of this week, we can send out the invitations. We've checked with everyone's management, and they all seem to be busy. Worse comes to worst; we'll just have to move seats around." Westley advised.

He closed his laptop, and you followed.

“Alright, that seems to be all of the guest list business. I’ll get my team to start organizing plane tickets and accommodation.” He sighed, “shall we head to the studio to check on the design team?”

“Yes,” you replied.

Both of you were driven to the studio to check on the design team.

The studio was filled with models of various shades and shapes. Music played quietly in the background, and your coworkers and models grooved to the tunes. Designers pinned fabrics around people’s figures and sketched down measurements and ideas.

You and Westley went around checking on everyone, making sure gowns and suits were well in progress. A smaller group of people created ideas for shoes and were sending them out to shoemakers.

The rest of the day was spent getting to know the models, fixing measurements, finalizing some ideas, and briefing everyone about the plan for the next two months.

"Please have the gowns, suits, and shoes by the end of this month so we can start having the makeup artists consult all of you; to make sure the makeup correlates with the clothes and the models." You informed. "Thank you, everyone, for your amazing work."

Scattered “thank you”s responded, and our workday was over.

“You want to get some drinks?” Westley nudged.

You nodded, frankly too tired to answer but eager for a drink.

Both of you decided to walk to the high-class bar, which allowed private areas in the back for paying customers. You and Westley sat alone, away from the crowds of people near the entrance of the bar.

“To having a productive three months,” Westley sang, holding up his martini.

You sighed, “Cheers,” you tapped your peach Bellini glass against his, admitting a chime.

"Fuck," Westley cursed at the sip of his drink, "they're always stronger than I remember. "Anyways, the show is pretty much underway. Guestlist is handled, the venue is prepped and ready for us, the clothing is almost done. Oooo, I can’t wait to see it all together.”

You nodded.

“You don’t seem so excited, Y/N.”

“I am,” you replied.

“But?”

“I am excited.” You affirmed, although not living up to the word

Westley silenced, knowing when not to push your buttons.

He took a careful sip of his martini. “Where’s Hoseok?”

You fidgeted with your glass. "Hoseok went back to Korea. He only had a month of vacay, so," you left the sentence adrift.

“Did you enjoy his company?”

“Can we not talk about him right now? I rather not mix work and personal life.” You stated.

Westley acknowledged with a firm nod, finishing off his martini and asking for another.

“May I ask a question?”

“Sure.” You replied.

He cringed. “But if I ask, promise me you won’t fire me.”

You turned to him. “Depends on your question. You have to ask me first, then I can decide whether or not to fire you. I cannot make promises.”

“Why are you so off all of a sudden?” He genuinely asked.

You took a deep breath. “I’m not going to fire you, not for a long time. You’re my best worker, and I can’t let you go.”

"I feel like there's going to be a 'but' somewhere. Might as well rip off the Band-Aid." Westley sighed.

You nodded, “You’re right. And you’re right about my mood. I’ve been kind of off lately.”

“Because of Hoseok?”

"Yeah, to be honest." You admitted. "I feel like we're really close—more than just friends. We're on the same wavelength, you know? And whenever we're apart for a long time and then meet up again, it's like time has passed."

“And let me guess, you haven’t told him because you’re afraid to ruin your friendship.”

You scoffed. “There’s no need for sarcasm, West.”

He rolled his eyes and sighed. “I’m just saying, it’s the oldest narrative in the book. One friend is falling for the other, and that one friend doesn’t want to confess their feelings because they’ve known the other person for years and are afraid of ruining that connection.” He took a sip of his martini. “But in the end, it’s two friends just pining over their feelings of love for each other.”

“But we’re different.” You argued.

"I guess so. The narrative doesn't really specify one friend is a famous fashion designer and the other being a famous musician—"

“I mean,” you interrupted, “we have sex every time we see each other.

Westley's mouth fell open in a silent gasp. His hand was placed on his chest, and his eyes stared into yours.

He tipped back his martini into his mouth, finishing it off. “Well, you didn’t mention the friends with benefits part.”

“I know!” You groaned. “That’s why it’s so complicated.”

"Is it really, though? Wouldn't confessing your feelings after you two have had sex so much make it slightly easier? Because it makes sense to grow feelings for someone you've known for a while and have had sex with on multiple occasions." Westley speculated.

“I didn’t say we had sex on multiple occasions—”

“Honey,” he began, “you said you’ve had sex with him every time you see each other, and you two meet a lot. It doesn’t take a detective to figure it out.”

"Anyways," he digressed, "the sooner you tell him, the better. There's no use debating over it for years, then finding out he's found someone else when he would've picked you anyways."

"Gosh, when you say it like that, it sounds like a romantic movie." You cringed, finishing your peach Bellini.

He shrugged. “Well, it kinda is.”

You chuckled. “Well, thanks for the advice.”

“Thank you for filling me in,” he smiled.

.

.

The week went by fast. Your design team was still working on alterations, so you were left brainstorming hair and makeup and contacting specialists in those fields.

You were sitting at home, knee-deep in Pinterest boards when your phone buzzed.

You stopped strolling through your laptop and peered down.

Hoseok [19:30]: We can come to your show!

Y/N [19:30]: Fantastic! I'll let my team know, and we’ll send out the invites.

You texted Westley, informing him that BTS could attend the show.

Westley [19:33]: Great! I'll let the rest of the team know, and we'll send the emails out tomorrow

Y/N [19:34]: Thanks!

Westley [19:35]: Np

You set down your phone and continued to add ideas to your private Pinterest board.

Your phone buzzed again.

Hoseok [19:55]: What are you doing right now?

You were puzzled.

Y/N [19:56]: Nothing much, just brainstorming ideas for the show. You?

Hoseok [19:57]: Just chilling in my room.

Hoseok [20:05]: I miss you

You chuckled at the text, thinking that Hoseok was drunk.

Y/N [20:05]: I miss you too, Hobi.

Hoseok [20:08]: …how much?

Again, you were puzzled by his text.

Y/N [20:10]: Wdym? I miss having you here? Is that what you mean?

Hoseok [20:11]: I mean, do you miss me intimately?

Y/N [20:14]: Like sex-wise?

Hoseok [20:14]: Fuck, I need you, Y/N.

You stared at his words.

Hoseok [20:18]: I miss your body and how perfectly you fit around me.

Your cheeks flushed.

Hoseok [20:21]: Can you video chat? Unless you’re not in the mood.

You panicked.

You were in the mood but weren't presentable. Your hair was messy, and you weren't wearing any makeup, and you were dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants.

Y/N [20:23]: Yeah, I’m in the mood. Just give me 5 mins.

You quickly got out of your seat and ran to your bedroom. You sifted through your closet and found the sexist clothing item you had: a red lingerie set. You quickly undressed and put on the set.

You looked into your full-length mirror and tried not to cringe. Your hair was a mess, and you weren’t wearing any makeup. It definitely looked like Hoseok's text came out of nowhere—and it did, but you somehow expected yourself to be decently presentable.

However, the lingerie set was doing you favours. The set was composed of a crotchless thong and a bralette that exposed your nipples.

Y/N [20:28]: I’m ready.

Your phone rang, and you answered, quickly propping it on your drawers across from your bed.

You were faced with a shirtless Hoseok, his cock already in his hand.

“Fuck, you look amazing.” He complimented breathlessly.

“Wow, you’re ahead of the game—and really? I’m a mess.” You chuckled.

He hissed, flinching in his grip. “Fuck, just take the compliment, Y/N.”

You cleared your throat. “Thank you.”

You sat a pit forward, angling your breasts towards the camera.

“What are you imagining, baby?” You purred.

“Y-You,” he stuttered, moving his hand up and down his cock.

“Mhm,” you moaned, “thinking up my pussy clenching around your cock, making it all wet.”

He nodded.

"You can do something if you want," he suggested. "You said you were in the mood."

Your eyes opened wide. “Wait a minute.”

You brought the phone with you on your journey, going back to your closet and fetching your dildo, lube, and vibrator. You hurried to the bathroom and propped your phone up against the closed door.

You suctioned the bottom of the dildo onto the titled floor. You placed the vibrator on the bathroom counter.

“You want to watch me bounce on this dildo and think of you?” You smirked, rubbing lube onto your hands, onto the toy, and onto your vagina.  

“Fuck, yes,” he replied, stilling his hand around his cock for a moment.

“Did I say you could stop?” You spat.

“I’m waiting for you,” he smiled, making your heart melt.

You paused over the dildo, smiling back at him. “Awww, that’s actually kinda sweet. Thank you.”

You quickly washed your hands and grabbed the vibrator.  

You crouched down and slowly onto the dildo.

“Fuck,” you moaned, tilting your head back at the feeling of being filled up. It didn’t hit the spots Hoseok did, but it was good enough.

You lifted yourself up and sunk back down again, rhythmically repeating the motion.

“Fuck, so good,” you sighed, overlooking the pain in your knees.

“That's right, baby, imagine me filling that pussy up," Hoseok groaned, following your rhythm while pumping his cock.

“Fuck yes,” you replied, “and I’m clenching around you so tight.”

You two exchanged moans at the sound of your pussy squelching around the dildo.

“Use the vibrator, baby,” Hoseok purred.

You hummed, grabbing the rose gold vibrator and turning it on. You place the buzzing toy on your clit, feeling pleasure rippling through your core.

“Fuck,” you hissed, speeding up your pace a bit.

“I-I’m getting close.”

“Yeah, baby?” Hoseok smirked. “You get off at me rubbing my cock? Imagining me buried inside your pussy, making you feel so good?"

You nodded. “But it’s not as you, baby.”

“I know—” He choked, appearing to be on the brink of his climax. “I fucking miss the way your pussy fit so well around me, no matter how many times I fucked you open.”

“Mhm,” you bit your lips, watching him with hooded eyes. “Don’t stop.”

“Who knew you were filthy enough to cum during cybersex?" He observed. "I'm not even there to touch you, but just thinking of me inside has you in ruins.”

“What would you do if I was with you right now?” You asked.

“I would fuck you until you couldn’t walk the next day,” he replied, “I’d fuck you until that pretty pussy is swollen.”

"F-fuck, I'm going to cum," you stuttered, feeling the familiar build-up in your core.

“M-me too,” he stammered.

You watched his head tilt back in pleasure and his cum squirt up from his cock.

“Fuck!” You cursed, feeling your pleasure shoot out of your core and onto the floor

“So hot,” Hoseok sighed.

You chuckled, coming down from high. You pulled yourself up and off the dildo, sitting on the cool tile floor.

“Fuck, did you squirt?” He asked, looking closer.

You nodded, gesturing to the mess on the ground.

“Spread your legs for me, baby,” he commanded and obliged, showing him your battered cunt.

You spread your lips, and he hummed at sight.

“So beautiful.” He awed.

“You happy? I need to wipe this all up, now,” you scoffed.

He chuckled. “It’s not my fault that you cummed.” He angled his phone to the floor, showing splashes of his cum on the floor, "and besides, you also made me make a mess.”

You both chatted while cleaning up your messes, talking about your days as if nothing happened. After finishing your clean-up, you two continued your conversation while showering, as if both of you were doing it together.

Ready to relax for the night, both of you signed off with exchanged ‘thanks’ and ‘good night.’

You turned off your phone with a soft click and stepped out of the steamy bathroom. Your pyjamas were soft on your skin, and you felt ready to go to bed.

Hopping onto your bed, you grabbed your laptop and turned on some Netflix to fall asleep to.

From an outsider’s perspective, masturbating with your best friend and then casually talking with them while showering and getting ready for bed was odd. Repeating the scenario in your mind did make it sound like you two were in a long-distance romantic relationship rather than a platonic one.

But you and Hoseok were different. That was your excuse.

A friend could do this and not catch feelings. You two were the perfect example of that.

Emphasis on were because you were currently spiralling in your growing romantic feelings for Hoseok.

But what would you do in this situation?

You and your childhood friend engage in sex one time and promise each other to not grow feelings. In this manner, you two could have sex without attachment. Fast forward into the future, and you both are still making this arrangement with no negative consequences and feel like you two have gotten to know each other better and have become better friends—until you catch feelings. And you don’t want to risk losing this relationship you two have.

Because he is a worldwide musician who can’t be tied down because it could risk his career, and he might lose fans—and you couldn't be bothered with any romantic commitment with your fast-paced and unpredictable work schedule.

So, you stay in this unnameable mess.

.

.

“Time flies by when you’re having fun,” Allie commented from the plush couch.

You looked in the mirror, twisting your back towards it to see the back of the dress. “I guess so.”

“You have to admit, planning a fashion show is pretty fun,” she said. “If it wasn’t, you wouldn’t be doing it over and over again.”

“True,” you replied, turning to the stylist.

“May I see the other dress?” You asked, and the stylist nodded, retreating to somewhere in the shop you couldn’t see.

It was the last month until the show. Everything was in order: the show’s venue and its decorations, the clothes, makeup and hair for the models, and the guests’ accommodation. Now, it was your turn to find suitable attire for the occasion.

You tried on the next dress. It was a slim-fitting number, with a leg slit in the front. It was scandalous and stunning, but not right for the show.

“I don’t like any of these dresses,” you sighed, annoyed.

Allie appears to brainstorm some ideas.

“Maybe try a suit?” She proposed.

You kept your eyes on the mirror, twirling your figure and watching the fabric move at your feet.

“Think about it,” she began, “think of all the powerful women who’ve worn suits and killed it. Zendaya, Kristen Stewart, Blake Lively, Awkwafina. The list goes on. It’s a statement piece, and you’re the big brain behind this operation.”

“I think it’s ‘mastermind behind this operation,’ but I get what you mean.” You corrected.

“You literally bypassed my whole point—”

“I know, I know,” you interrupted. “It’s just—suits for women are so overpriced. And it’s just like the dresses, except a different fit. Same colour palettes, same materials, so on.”

Allie scoffed. "You're a fucking fashion designer, did you forget? Make your own thing. There are leftover fabrics at your studio; you have time to make something." Her face lit up, “And, technically, it’s for free.”

You gave it a thought, but the stylist came back before you could finish it.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Vega, but I’m not finding anything, and I don’t want you walking back and forth and bringing me more dresses.” You gave an apologetic smile. “Thank you very much for your help.”

"No worries, Y/N! Just hang up the dress when you take it off, and I’ll deal with the rest,” she replied.

“Will do,” you said, and she stepped out of the room.

Allie helped you unzip the gown, and you shimmed out of it. You did as you were told and hung up the dress, and you and Allie left the shop.

The walk back to the studio was quick, you two making determined strides through the crowded city.

You and Allie entered the empty studio, turning on the nights.

The studio was organized chaos with dressed mannequins, big boxes of fabrics in the back of the room, and papered patterns on the tables.

“Wow,” Allie awed.

"Yeah," you replied, leading you both to your master station is near the back, "it's crazy what a couple months before a show looks like.”

You looked through the drawers beside your desks and grabbed the tools you'll need to plan out the suit.

“So, just a suit jacket and pants…” You said, grabbing some paper to sketch up your pattern.

You looked up at Allie, “Do you mind helping me out with measurements?”

She nodded, “For sure. What do you need?”

You guided Allie on how to measure your proportions for the suit. She measured your inseams for your pants, the sleeves, the cuts, and so on. In between, you'd write down the dimensions for the patterns.

You two sifted through the fabrics to create a monochrome patchwork outfit. The suit would be shades of cherry red, with different materials making it up. There were no patterns in the patchwork, only various tones of red in several types of wool.

“Fucking hell,” Allie cursed while sifting through the materials, “who would’ve thought there were so many shades of red.”

She held up a piece of recycled fabrics, checking with you that it was the correct tone. You took it and held the portion against the others.

“Nope, too dark,” you shook your head.

"What? It looks exactly the same," she disagreed, walking over to your table. When comparing the fabrics, she made an 'aaah’ sound, letting you know that you were right.

Before sectioning off your pattern, you tried your best to evenly sew all the material together into a quilt-like form.

“Jesus,” you muttered, shaking out your sore hands.

“We don’t have to get this all done today, you know. You do have two months left.” Allie advised.

"I know. I just want to put this all together first," you replied, continuing to push the material through the sewing machine.

“Alright,” she surrendered, bringing one of the seats over to your table.

You sewed in silence for a bit.

“So,” Allie began, “how are you and Hoseok doing?”

You paused. “What do you mean?”

“You know…you two and your arrangement.”

You scoffed, “Our arrangement? You mean us having sex?”

“Yeah, but the other stuff.”

You pulled your hands from the sewing machine, crossing your arms over your chest. "Just spit it out, Al."

“Well, you’ve had mixed feelings with Hoseok, right? Like you’re starting to like him?” She speculated.

Your mouth gaped open. “Have you been talking to West?”

She didn’t respond, not making eye contact.

“You can’t be fucking serious. You two are ganging up on me!” You yelled.

“Y/N, we’re just worried.”

“About what? I have feelings—and?” You fumed.

She sighed. “You shouldn’t be having sex with someone if you’re growing romantic feelings, especially if you two agreed to be platonic.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you stood.

“Y/N!” She exclaimed. "Don't you dare talk to me that way? I am your friend, not your enemy." Allie stood up and sighed. “I get it. You don’t like people in your business. That’s fair. I just feel like you're sacrificing yourself for Hoseok when you could talk about it with him."

“Allie, you don’t know what you’re fucking talking about.” You spat.

“I get it,” she sympathized. “I don’t. I’m not you or Hoseok.”

“So, tell me,” she said. “Educate me on the situation. I am not here to judge. I’m just worried about you, that’s all.”

You took a few deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized. “I shouldn’t have talked to you like that.”

“It’s okay,” she forgave, “just don’t push me away so fast, okay?”

“Okay.” You agreed.

She sat down, “So?”

You sat down and rehashed your feelings about you and Hoseok to her: the growing romantic feelings for him, not knowing what to do, and wanting something more.

“Well, do you think it’d work out between you two if you dated?” She asked.

You shifted in your seat. "I honestly don't know. It's tough with Hoseok's work because he has a loyal fanbase. I'm afraid he's going to get even more hate if we were to date.”

“But would you two be happy?” She asked.

You gave it a thought. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you go into a relationship regardless of other people. Whether you’re a celebrity or an ordinary person, you date someone for you and that person; no one else. There are going to be people who support and hate your relationship no matter what. What matters is what the two people think in the relationship."

She sighed. “You cannot control what others will think about you. No matter what you do or who you do, you're going to upset someone. So, just do what feels comfortable and safe with you."

You hummed, understanding.

“So, would you be happy if you and Hoseok dated?”

“Yes.” You stated without a thought. “I really like him—love him even.”

"Then that's all that matters," Allie replied.

.

.

The week before, the show crept on you faster than you expected. You, your team of designers and event organizers, models, hairstylists and makeup artists flew into Vancouver a week early to prepare on location.

However, the majority of the week would be spent preparing for the show. The first day was spent unloading all of the outfits and equipment for the show into the venue. Everyone was required to show up to organize their stations and to familiarize themselves with the venue.

“Please set up your stations while Westley and I look into the main runway and after part section. We’ll be back in around two hours to check up on everyone. If you have any questions while we're gone, please contact me on my phone." You held up your cellphone and everyone nodded. "Great. Good luck, everyone!"

The venue and interior designers' owners toured you and Westley around the place, showing you the drawn floorplans, running down the prices, and checking that the decorations correlated with your plans.

“These weren’t the chairs we sent over,” Westley pointed to the black folded chairs lining the runways.

“Yes, but these were within the price range and—” One of the interior designers, Queeny, said.

“But did we get an email regarding this change?” You interjected.

Queeny exchanged looks with the other three decorators, and they shook their heads.

Wesley let out an angry sigh. "Well, I guess we’ll have to live with these then.” He sat down on one of the chairs. “At least they’re comfortable. They look cheap, but they’re sturdy.”

“Are there any more changes you made without informing as?” You asked.

They all shook their heads.

"Great." You turned to one of the two-venue owners, named Ruby. "Shall we continue to the after-party part?”

“Yes,” she replied, gesturing to the doorway that led to the front reception area.

From the reception area, where guests would check-in and get a wristband, a double-door way on the right led to a ballroom for the after-party.

The overall theme of the place was classic European designs with off-white luxurious walls and chandeliers. The ceilings were intricately carved, and the floors were a smooth white oak. Just walking around made you feel like you were dirtying the place.

“This place is stunning,” Westley whispered.

“I know,” you replied, “you chose the place.”

“I know,” he smiled, pretending to flip his hair.

You both chuckled, continuing to follow the owners around the venue.

Everything worked out, besides the chairs, so you and Westley checked on the designers, models, hairstylists and makeup artists.

At the end of the workday, everyone was in order and ready for the next three days of dress rehearsals and solving and problems.

You arrived back at your hotel with sore feet and exhaustion.

Your phone rang as you flopped onto your bed.

You answered. “Hobi!”

“Y/N! How was your flight to Vancouver?” He asked.

“It was good. We didn't have a rest day, though. We had to settle into the place and check it over. My feet are so sore.” You groaned.

“Really? I thought you’d at least have a rest day when you guys arrived,” he assumed.

You shook your head. “No. Sadly, this whole week will be walking around and making sure everything is going smoothly.”

He sighed. “Shit. That sucks.” You heard him shift on the other side of the phone. “Do you want to relax?”

You laughed. “Jung Hoseok, did you seriously booty call me from across the world?”

Hoseok gasped, "I did not! I was talking about watching Netflix or something." He chuckled, "You're so dirty-minded."

You both laughed.

“Okay, so what do you want to watch?” He asked on the other end of the call.

You brought out your laptop and scrolled through the movie selection.

“Oooo! Let’s watch Hush. I’ve heard so many good things about it.” You recalled.

You could hear his hesitation.

Hoseok did not like being scared. Whenever you watched anything scary, you were afraid that your neighbours would complain at how loud his screaming was. As you remembered saying "hello" to him once and him screaming in fear and surprise, he was also easily frightened.

“We don’t have to,” you said.

“No, no,” Hoseok reassured, “we’ll watch it. Just send me the Netflix Party link, and I'll ready the Zoom link."

You giggled. “You don’t have to be brave for me, Hobi. I know you don’t like scary movies.”

“You want to watch it, so let’s do it,” he said, “and the ratings are good.”

“Okay,” you digressed. “I’m texting you the link right now.”

“Same,” he replied.

You two hung up and joined the links.

“Hello!” Hoseok beamed, dancing.

You rolled your eyes and chuckled at his burst of energy. “Hello, Hobi.”

You carried your laptop to the bathroom and began getting ready for bed.

“How was your day?” You asked.

Hoseok described him and his bandmates' film day for "Run! BTS," and you groaned at all the work they had to do.

He laughed. “But we got to play games, which was fun. We laughed so much that my abs hurt.” You watched him lift up his shirt and show his toned abdomen.

Your core felt a familiar flutter.

“W-wow, that must be a lot of laughing,” you cleared your throat and took out your toothbrush and toothpaste.

For the moment, the time difference worked for you two because it was almost ten at night for you and nearly three in the afternoon for him.

“Should I turn off my camera?” You asked before undressing to get into the shower.

He shook his head. “I’m okay with you leaving it on. I’ve seen you naked before, so it’s not really different. But if you’re uncomfortable, you can just turn it off.”

You shrugged and began taking off your clothes in full view of the camera and screen.

You noticed Hoseok’s expression.

“Enjoying the show?” You chuckled, finally taking off your undergarments and fully exposing yourself.

Hoseok smirked, “Don’t act like you weren’t just turned on by my abs. I saw how you looked at me.”

You nodded and surrendered. “Fair point.”

You hoped in the shower, and you two continued talking.

“Jesus, we haven’t started the movie yet,” Hoseok commented while you were washing your hair.

“Shit, right,” you laughed, massaging the shampoo into your scalp.

After you hoped out of the shower and dried your body and hair, you both started to watch the movie.

“This is a pretty cool premise. Like, we’ve never seen a deaf person in a horror movie before,” you regarded.

"True, that's a good point—AHHHHHH!" Hoseok screamed at the sudden slam in the movie.

You burst into laughter.

“Holy shit!” He exclaimed, trying to calm himself with controlled breaths.

The movie continued as you finished off your skincare and put on your pyjamas.

The oversized t-shirt was long enough to cover your thighs.

“You’re going to watch this before bed?” Hoseok gasped.

You chuckled. “Yeah. It’s not that scary.” You say as you jump at the sound of breaking glass in the film.

Hoseok laughed at the coincidental timing.

You don’t remember falling asleep, but you woke up to the sound of your alarm.

“Shit,” you grumbled and turned it off.

You heard Hoseok stir awake on the Zoom call.

Both of you had fallen asleep, but Hoseok finished the movie before you could; because you saw the end credits paused in the Netflix Party.

“Sorry,” you whispered.

“It’s okay,” Hoseok mumbled, squinting at the screen.

“I’ll let you sleep,” you smiled, hovering your cursor over the "send" button.

He softly smiled, “thank you.” He snuggled into his pillow, “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Hobi,” you replied, ending the call for both of you.

It didn’t hit you until you were halfway through your dress rehearsal, but Hoseok had stayed with you while you slept. He didn't wake you but quietly continued the movie and fell asleep.

Hoseok was usually sweet, so you didn't pay too much attention to it.

But it did make you feel special.

.

.

It was the day of the fashion show, and you were fucking nervous.

You had done this before, a show, but this one was different. You had put in so much effort and were proud of how it turned out but were afraid of what other people would think.

“It’ll be fine, don’t worry,” Allie assured through video call,” it’ll be excellent, and everyone won’t stop talking about it.”

“Probably,” you replied, putting on your makeup.

“It will be excellent, Y/N. I am so sure I will bet money.” She stated.

You chuckled, "then I'll take your word for it because I am not bidding money.”

You both laughed.

“Okay, I know I already showed you my outfit, but are you sure it looks good?” She asked, putting on the A-line floor-length dress she’d shown you before. It was a beautiful viridian green with lace shoulder straps that draped over the sides of her biceps.

“You look beautiful,” you complimented, setting your makeup with setting spray and heading to your closet.

You put on the suit you made and looked in the mirror. You looked a bad bitch.

“You look great! Oooo, put on the red bottoms,” Allie squealed.

You put on the signature Louis Vuitton black high heels with the ruby bottoms.

Your phone buzzed.

“I got to go; Westley is here with our ride to the venue. I’ll see you there!”

“See you!” She waved, ending the call.

You did a quick check in the mirror, fixing your hair, grabbed your bags, and headed out the door.

Your driver waited outside the vehicle as you approached, and opened its door, showing you a well-dressed and excited Westley.

"Oh my god, you look great!" He gasped. “When did you make the suit?”

“I finished it a week before we flew out,” you chuckled, “and you look great too! I love the pine on you.”

You took a step back and looked at Westley’s crisp pine-coloured suit with matching brown dress shoes.

“Thank you,” he grinned. “Okay, get in before we become late.”

You hopped into the car, and your driver got in and started the vehicle.

The drive was spent recalling your opening and closing speeches with Westley and the show's agenda.

“So, five pm is when the show ends, and then the guests for the after-party go into the ballroom area. Food is served at six pm, and everything is wrapped up at ten pm.” Westley relayed.

You nodded, “Yup.”

Both of you arrived a couple hours before the start time, which was at 1 pm, to set everything up and warm up the models and crew.

Westley checked the organizers and the models while you went to the runway area to check the lights and sound.

"Let's rerun the lights, please!" You announced as you walked into the runway room. "Can I get a headset, please?" You ask the crew on the ground, who nodded.

“Yup!” You heard the lighting crew respond.

You were given the headset, and you heard the head light technician’s voice.

“Can you hear me?” They checked.

“Yes,” you confirmed.

They ran by the six light settings for the show, and it was all correct.

“It’s perfect, thank you. Can you please check that the sound is alright?” You asked through the headset.

“Yup. You’ll have to hand the headset to another person, though, and we’ll give you a mic.” They added.

You heard their muffled voice as if they covered their mic's headset with their hand. Next, you had someone hand you a mic and take your headset.

“You’ll need to stand on the stage,” The person said.

“Okay,” you replied, going to the runway and standing on the end portion.

All the room’s lights turned on, and you could see the lighting crew’s area in the back and the chair organized around the runway.

“You can speak into the mic!” You heard someone shout.

You started speaking nonsense in the mic, like the type of weather outside, as they adjusted the volume.

“Thank you!” Someone shouted.

“Thanks,” you said into the mic before handing it to one of the crew.

“Is there anything to report? Any problems that arose before I got here?” You asked the crew.

They all shook their heads.

“How is everyone feeling?” You asked.

They all shared nervous laughter, and a few people said “good.”

“Alright, if there’s anything you all need, just come to the modelling area and ask me. It’s in the backroom.”

They all nodded, and you left them to their business.

You arrived in the backroom and saw designers fitting their outfits on the models and makeup artists and hairstylists prepping their stations.

“How is everybody doing?!” You enthusiastically asked.

They cheered with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

"I get it. Everyone is on their toes. You all have an hour left to set things up before people start filing in. Remember, the show starts at 1 pm. The door opens thirty minutes before them.”

They call responded with various forms of understanding, and you went around to check on them individually.

Rachel came and taped your shoulder, with a headset on, “So, the guards are in their posts, and the front is ready to check people in.”

“Is there a line already?” You asked.

Rachel pressed down the headset, asking the crew on the other end.

“Yes, there’s a line of people outside,” she reported, “about twenty people, so far.”

"Shit, yeah, let them in. It's probably cold." You ordered.

“I’ll tell them,” she replied.

“Okay, everyone! We’re starting to let people in. Again, you all have about an hour left, so try to wrap things up and relax. Thank you!” You announced.

Again, sounds of understanding, and you, Westley, and Rachel left the backroom.

“Rachel, Westley and I are going to check that the ballroom area and catering are all handled. Please check in with the front desk to see how they're doing, and then meet us in the ballroom." You told.

“Got it, Y/N,” Rachel answered, walking past the two of you and towards the front area.

Westley appeared impressed. “She's terrific. She's even got the headset and everything."

"I know, right? She's cool." You remarked.

Like clockwork, you and Westley ran over the details and schedule for the catering and the after-party. Everyone had places to sit, with elegantly decorated name cards.

Everything was ready.

"Fantastic, thank you," you thanked the caterers and the staff in the ballroom. "Feel free to come into the runway area during the show if you all would like to watch."

With that, it was about time the show would start. You and Westley hurried backstage, where you both were handed microphones.

The lights dimmed, and classical music played—fitting the theme of elegance and high class.

You and Westley regarded each other, did an excellent handshake, and strutted out on the runway. Both of you were met with applause from the crowd and blinding spotlights.

You two walked to the end of the runway and let out an exhausted sigh.

The music quieted, faintly heard in the background.

“And that’s why I’m not a model,” Westley joked, causing the crowd to giggle.

“Same here,” you chuckled.

“Anyways, welcome to the show, everyone!” You cheered, and the crowd clapped. “As you know, I am Y/N, and this is Westley. Today, we’ll be showing recycled elegant clothes on people. Not just models, but people. All the clothes you'll be seeing here today are made from recycled fabrics and hand-crafted by our design team and me."

Applause.

"We wanted to represent people, so we got people to present our clothes. Redundant, I know, but the fashion industry rarely shows models that look like people. Don’t get me wrong, they’re all fantastic. However, this show will be different. Enjoy!” Westley waved.

A final round of applause while you and Westley walked off the runway.

The show went smoothly and wonderfully. The changes were fluid, and there were no clothing mishaps. The classical music turned into upbeat music that everyone seemed to groove to. Models danced on the runway while walking, and there were joyful cheers in the crowd.

In the end, you and Westley gave your brief thank you speeches, and months of planning and work were officially completed.

When everyone was backstage, you all collectively cheered.

“Phenomenal job, everyone!” You praised. “I am speechless at how well we all did. Thank you all for being such wonderful people to work with.”

Smiles and cheers were shared as everyone got ready for the after-party.

“Okay, remember that food is being served at six o’clock, and you all will be able to find your names at a table.” You reminded.

You and Westley did a quick check-up on people before heading to the ballroom area to socialize.

“Great job, you two!” Some complimented.

You and Westley thanked the praise and had a small talk with some colleges.

“Hey, Y/N!” You heard a familiar voice say.

You turned and say Hoseok with the rest of the boys, waving.

“Hey!” You smiled, nudging Westley to join you.

"Well, enjoy the after-party," Westley grinned at the other guests before joining you.

As always, the seven boys were well-dressed in designer suits. Hoseok wore lightly tinted shades paired with a dark suit and floral dress shirt. His hair was wavy.

“That was awesome, Y/N,” Namjoon said.

“Thank you!” You replied.

“Yeah, Y/N, I loved the recycled-fabrics idea. Are anything on sale?” Taehyung asked.

You nodded. "Everything will be on sale next month. I'll send you the dates, so you mark them in your calendar. The clothes go fast," you chuckled.

“Damn,” Taehyung remarked, eyebrows raised.

“Hey, Jimin,” Westley greeted.

“Hey West,” Jimin smiled, “loved your speech today. That suit looks great on you.”

“I know,” Westley smirked, “you look good too.”

"How are you feeling?" Hoseok asked, letting Westley and Jimin casually flirt.

You sighed. “Glad that it’s over, to be honest. It was fun, of course, but it's a lot of work to organize."

“Oh my god, is that Charlie Puth?” Jungkook gasped, hiding slightly behind Namjoon.

Everyone laughed.

"You should go and say 'hi,' Kook. You've already met and sung with him before. You two are practically friends." Yoongi expressed.

“True,” you agreed, “and Charlie’s a nice guy.”

“Okay,” Jungkook straightened his posture, “I’ll do it.”

You all watched Jungkook walk over and begin chatting with Charlie Puth.

“God, he’s grown up so much,” Seokjin sighed.

The rest of you caught up and chatted about the show.

Before you knew it, Westley was poking your side to let you know it was five minutes until six.

“Shit,” you cursed. “Sorry to cut this convo short, but Westley and I have to announce dinner. We’ll talk soon!”

You all said your goodbyes, and you and Westley went up to the front to state it was time for food.

You two were seated with Rachel, Allie, and a couple others. Everyone ordered off a menu, which served various kinds of pasta, salads, and a mix of alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages.

It was an excellent way to end off the show.

There was a dancefloor, too, where people could groove to music after eating.

Of course, the seven boys went to the dancefloor, which caused others to join.

You were finishing off your fettuccine alfredo when Hoseok danced over to your table. You chuckled as he held his hand out and quirked a brow.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, taking his hand.

“You love it,” he smirked, pulling you off your chair and leading you to the dancefloor.

You danced together, along with your friends. He held your hands as you two swayed to the slow songs and body-rolled with you during the upbeat songs. Of course, a few BTS songs played, and everyone tried to follow the known choreography. You went back to your table for a drink of water, and Allie came with you. "Look, and you and Hoseok dancing up a storm," she teased. “Shut up,” you chuckled. “The chemistry is there, Y/N,” she commented. You drank your water. "Not now, Al." “Come on! He’s here for, what, the night and then gone tomorrow morning? When will you see him again?” She asked. You paused, honestly unsure when you'd see Hoseok again. “Now or never, Y/N. How much longer can you debate this?” “I know,” you replied. “I’ll do it later tonight.” Around nine-thirty, the party was dying down, with only a few guests scattered around the venue helping to clean up. You made eye contact with Allie, who was tending to the chairs, who nudged towards Hoseok’s direction. Now or never. You said in your head. “Can I speak to you, Hoseok?” You asked, walking up to him. “For sure!” He replied. You led both of you to a secluded part of the venue, away from listeners. “Did you enjoy the show?” You asked. “Yeah! You did a fantastic job, Y/N. I love how everything turned out, the colours, the recycled fabrics were great—and your suit! I can’t believe you made it,” Hoseok complimented, stepping back to look at your attire. “Thank you,” you blushed. You gave a quick look around to make sure no one was around. “Is everything alright, Y/N? You’re looking around as if they’re spies around.” He gasped. “Are there spies around? What secret don’t they know?” “I don’t want to have sex with you anymore.” You abruptly stated. A stretch of silence. Hoseok’s expression was a mixture of surprise and concern. “What?” “I can’t have sex with you anymore.” “You can’t or don’t want to? Is it something I did?” “Yes? No? In a way?” You pondered. You took a few deep breaths. "I like you, Hoseok—possibly even love you.” You ran your hand through your hair. “I know we agreed not to catch feelings, so I think we should stop having sex.” You watched his expression shift from some form of being happy to disappointment. “You know I cannot date with work,” he explained, "with the fans, touring, and whatnot, I cannot date someone. And you have your company to work on." “I know,” you replied. “But do you like me back?” You asked. “I do—” “You do?” You were on the verge of hugging him, but he stepped back. You looked at him, confused. “We can’t—” “Why?” “I literally just told you, Y/N. With work, dating wouldn’t allow it. I already have people—” He choked on his words. “People who wish I was dead, j-just for being me.” “Hoseok—” You reached out to him, but he gently pushed you away. “No,” he objected, “I’m fine. I just don’t want to add you to the mess.” “You can’t decide that for me.” You retorted. “I understand that you don’t want to add me to it, but I’m okay with it. I don't care what other people would say about us. They're not in the relationship, we are—" “But what if I care?” He said, almost too quiet for you to hear. “I’m the happy guy of BTS, who’s dedicated to his work.” “But are you truly happy?” You peered into him. “Yeah,” he replied, avoiding eye contact, “but it gets really hard sometimes.” “So, let me help, Hoseok,” you pleaded. "I don't need to be helped! I'm not another project for you to work on.” He thundered. “You know that’s not what I meant.” You seethed. “Let’s just drop it, okay? We’re not dating, that’s it.” He dictated. “Fine.” You replied. “Have a safe trip back home.” You left without another word, trying your best not to cry. Out of all the ways you thought he'd respond, this took you off guard. Hoseok wasn't one to push you away, but here he was doing so. “Fuck this,” you whimpered, walking up to Allie. “I’m going back to the hotel, sorry,” you said, turning away as soon as possible. “Y/N!”

You washed your face and hoped into the shower—the warm water soothing your sore muscles and emotions. You couldn’t tell if it was the water or your tears streaming down your face.

What else did you expect? Hoseok had a point: with his work, he couldn’t date someone. And it was ridiculous that Hoseok would want to date you.

However, instead of sulking over Hoseok, you decided to have a bath and put on a facemask.

The room’s phone rang while you were starting the bath.

“Hello?”

“Hello, is this Y/N Y/L/N?

“Speaking,” you confirmed.

“Great! There’s a man here, named,” a muffled noise, “Hoseok Jung.”

“Tell him I’m busy, please,” you replied.

Another muffled noise. “Hoseok says he's sorry and that he has ice cream—cookie dough. But if he’s dangerous, I can call the police.”

“No, no. God no,” you said.

You bit your lip. "You can send Hoseok up."

“Okay. However, if there’s anything wrong, please try to press the red button on the receiver. I will check back with you in an hour. If there’s no response, I’ll get someone to check on you.” They informed.

“Thank you,” you replied, slightly shocked by their concern.

You hung up.

A few minutes later, you heard a knock on the door. You tightened your robe.

You checked the peephole before cracking the door open.

“Hi,” you greeted.

“Hey," he smiled. "I'm sorry for leaving you like that at the party. It was sudden and insensitive. I should have been more considerate of your feelings rather than shutting you off.”

“I was just—scared. I don’t know what it’s going to be like for us. And I don't want you to fix me��but I like you, a lot—so I brought cookie dough ice cream and two spoons—"

“Do you want to come in?” You interrupted his nervous rambling.

“Yes, thank you,” he chuckled.

Hoseok still wore the suit from the fashion show, but his jacket was folded over his arm, and his dress shirt was unbuttoned lower.

“Oh, you’re running the bath,” he noticed. "We can deal with this later if it's a bad time."

“No, it’s alright. I’ll just turn off the water.” You replied, going to the bathroom to do so.

When you came back, Hoseok was sitting on the edge of your bed.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” You asked, sitting beside him.

He opened the ice cream tub, setting the lid on the desk and handing you one of the spoons.

“I was thinking you could talk more, actually; about how you feel," he replied, giving you the tub and angling himself to face you. "I just want to listen to you this time."

You gave a brief smile before spooning a small piece of ice cream into your mouth.

“Well, I just feel like we’re in this grey area of being really close but having sex. And we both like each other, and we said at the venue, and I just feel like we should just date then.” You set the ice cream and spoon down on the desk. “I get that work complicates things for you. But once we’ve confessed our feelings, I just don’t know what to call this—this friendship?”

Hoseok nodded.

"So, if you don't want to date, that's completely fine. I understand. However, we can't keep having sex like we used to; because I have feelings for you now, and you said you do too, so it's not a good mix."

“That’s fair,” he acknowledged.

“But what do you think? Like, how do you feel about us?” You asked.

He paused and set his spoon on the desk with yours. “I want to date you, Y/N. I just don’t want to get you hurt.” He softly grasped your hands. “The industry can be toxic, and I don’t want to subject you to that.”

“I understand,” you replied, “but I want to date you too, regardless of all the other bullshit. As cheesy as it sounds, all I want is you, Hoseok.”

Hoseok smiled but then pretended to gag.

“Hobi! I was romantic."

“Sorry, but that was so cheesy.” He cringed.

“So, do you want to just start dating, then?” You proposed. “We have the ice cream here; we can pretend to get to know each other more.”

He chuckled. “Sure. Let’s do that.”

Hoseok stood up and held his hand out to you. “Y/N Y/L, will you go on a date with me?”

You laughed but composed yourself. “I would love to, Jung Hoseok.” You took his hand, and he immediately sat back down.

“So, Y/N,” Hoseok began, handing you the partially melted ice cream and your spoon, “what do you like to do on the weekends?”

.

.

1 year later.

“I’m thinking of moving to Korea,” you said. Hoseok turned to you, surprised. “Really? But you’re not based here.” “I know,” you acknowledged, “but I can fly in and skype, or whatever. I can have a home base here, too.” You were visiting Hoseok for a couple weeks before you had to go back home for a clothing launch. Both of you were cuddling at his place when you brought up your idea of moving to Korea. “Of course, it wouldn’t be immediate. I would need to sort things out with Westley and Rachel and organize a place to stay here and a work area. The company is sturdy enough to handle the change.” You reasoned. “You could move in with me,” he suggested, turning his body to face you. “Are you sure?” “Yeah, why not. We’ve been dating for a while now, and it makes sense.” He shrugged. “Unless you don’t want to.” You kissed him. “No, I want to.” Both of you discussed what your move would be like and imagined living together. If you were to look back at how your relationship with Hoseok progressed, you would be shocked. In a matter of a few months, you and Hoseok went from friends to romantic partners. Although you had not come out publicly about your relationship, many people had a sense it existed; but that didn’t matter. You and Hoseok were in a secure and healthy relationship. It was long distanced, but you two made it work by visiting each other when you could and calling almost every day. The only thing that didn’t change was the sex—although it had gotten better. Nevertheless, so much has happened over the past year. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#jhope bts #jhopoe fanfic #jhope smut #jhope fluff #jhope angst #hoseok smut #hoseok angst #hoseok fluff #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #bts fanfic #ficswithluv #houseofddaeng #hobiuary2021 #hodevent

[cjsinkythoughts]

FATWS One Shot #3 - Stars, Stripes, and Bubbles

Word Count: 1912

Warnings: Cursing, Fluff, erm…a Relationship that You Want to Happen but Know Never Will

Setting/Characters: The first part of Captain America: The Winter Soldier in 2014 after Steve’s hostage mission; Reader, Steve Rogers, mentions of Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, and Nick Fury

A/N: This…isn’t what I thought it was gonna turn out to be. But I like it, it’s cute, and I needed something pure with the shield after that ending scene, so I’m posting it.

I have a few more One Shots planned that take place during TWS so I’ll be writing those today and tomorrow. This week is a lot less hectic than last week (I was being trained in another area of my job last week, hence crazy hours), so expect more One Shots coming this week. Again, I’m trying to post them chronologically, but there might be some out of order depending on what you guys request and when, which is totally fine!

For today, I have the Reader meeting Sam (which is kinda what this was supposed to be, but…oh well) and more about the notebook planned. Also Reader meeting Bucky unofficially for the first time because he’s, you know, brainwashed and stuff. Later this week I’m planning on AoU stuff which will include the Party Scene and Wanda interactions.

If I can get through those by Friday when the new episode comes out, I’ll start on CA:CW which will include Reader officially meeting Bucky and possibly the airport scene if you guys are interested in that. Then I’ve got some Wakanda scenes and some Peter interactions. If not, I’ll start CW:CA next Sunday. Once the backstory is set up and completed chronologically, I might go back and just write some drabbles and stuff of random moments - kinda like this one. 

I did get a request earlier for Bucky’s perspective on the dancing scene in Part 4.2, so I’m planning on doing more rewrites of scenes in Bucky’s perspective, but that’ll come after the One Shots, so hopefully next week.

I think that’s all…umm…yeah. Once again, not beta’d so please excuse any mistakes! Thank you so much for reading! I’m so glad you’re all enjoying this almost as much as I am! Be kind to yourselves and others! Enjoy reading and stay tuned!

FATWS Masterlist

cjsinkythoughts Masterlist

The beeping of the timer made you groan and set down the book you were digging into. You were just starting to get to the good part, but the food smelled so good, so you decided it could wait.

You were so focused on your task of getting your breakfast ready that you didn’t hear your front door open or the footsteps that followed it shutting, the thud of boots hitting the floor just around the corner. Setting the ready food on the counter, you jumped at the arms that wrapped around your shoulders and waist.

“Shouldn’t you be more observant for a spy?”

You gave a hum at his deep voice, tilting your head slightly as he placed his cheek on your shoulder, nose pressing up against the column of your throat. “Shouldn’t you be heading over to the Triskelion for your debriefing with Fury?”

He growled at the mention of the mission he was just sent on yesterday morning. The first few assignments he had surprised you with how quick they were over, but then you remembered yours were a bit different than his and you got used to him being back within the next couple days.

“We don’t have secrets right? I’m so fucking tired of secrets.”

Your eyebrow quirked up as you turned to face him, his hands slipping down to your hips. You took in his state; he was still in uniform, dirt on his face, hair unruly, the shield on his back gray with the dust that covered it. He obviously hadn’t even gone to his own place yet, meaning he just got back. “What happened?”

He huffed, letting go of you to rub his face tiredly. “Natasha. She didn’t tell me that Fury sent her to do something other than what we were supposed to be doing.”

“They’re spies, bubs. It’s what they do.”

“You’re a spy. You wouldn’t do that.”

Chuckling a little at his comparison, you shook your head. “Our relationship is a little…different than yours and Nat’s.”

“I wish they’d put you on my missions. I don’t know why they don’t. We work well together, don’t we?”

You snorted. “That’s probably the reason.” At his confused look, you shook your head. “Never mind. Just…we’re closer. I know you better than they do. You can’t compare them to me. It isn’t fair.”

He grumbled, eyes glancing down to your feet. “They still should’ve told me.”

“Hey,” you tilted his head back up to meet your gaze. “It was a hostage mission, right?” He nodded. “Did you save the hostages?” Another nod, which made you shrug. “Then there you go. You did your job and you saved people. It was a success. That’s all that matters.”

“He got away.” Steve argued. “He got away because she didn’t feel the goddamn need to tell me-”

“She was following orders. Don’t be mad at her.”

“You’re right.” His quick admission stunned you for a moment, until he continued speaking. “It’s Fury’s fault. I think I’m gonna go-”

He started moving away, but you tugged him back, shaking your head again. “Not yet, bubba. You can talk to him later. Let’s get you cleaned up first. Then we’ll eat and you can tell me how that run you went on yesterday was. Okay?”

His features softened and he nodded, setting his forehead against yours. “Okay.”

You had half of your dresser sectioned off for Steve’s things. SHIELD had moved him to DC about a year previous to be closer to HQ, especially after the Helicarrier became decommissioned for repairs. You already had an apartment in DC - it was where you stayed for the most part, hence the reason you were more than willing to stay in New York for a couple years. 

The moment he moved in about ten minutes from you, you knew, just like in DC, he’d be spending a lot of time at your place. Which is why you made the executive decision to have him bring a bag over one night and unpack his stuff.

It wasn’t the first shower he took at your place and it most certainly wouldn’t be the last.

While he was cleaning up, you got to work washing his suit and the shield. You teased him by saying you’d just throw his suit in the washer and the shield in the dishwasher, but you wouldn’t actually.

His suit was air drying by the window and you were at the sink scrubbing off the shield, wishing you had a backyard and a hose, when he padded back into the room, hair plastered to his forehead, dripping down his temples, sweats and a t-shirt clinging to his body. He shook his head, leaning on the counter besides you. You always found it amusing how big he looked in your tiny kitchen.

“You know you don’t have to do that, right?”

You scoffed. “If you think I’m gonna let you walk around in that disgusting thing all day, you, my friend, are nuts.”

He chuckled, moving behind you and setting his chin on your shoulder, his larger hands stopping yours from their movements. “At least let me do this, then.” He murmured, taking the scrub brush from you, spreading the bubbles over the rings of the shield.

“You can help me. But I like finishing what I started.” You whispered back, reaching for a clean rag and dunking it into the soapy water, wiping down the star in the middle.

He placed a gentle kiss to your jaw, relenting easily. “Fine.”

You two worked in silence, the water running over the shield, taking the dirt and grime with it, hands occasionally brushing each other. Almost finished, Steve placed his hand over yours, moving it over to a certain spot. “The brush won’t get it.” He explained, his low voice sounding right beside your ear.

Smiling, you turned your head to look at him. There was a crease between his brow as he concentrated on getting rid of the smudge on the precious metal. Your lips turned up when you noticed a dark spot on his jaw he must’ve missed. He looked at you with a grin when you started giggling. “What’s got you giggling so pretty, honey?”

Letting go of the side of the shield you were holding, you reached up to wipe the dirt on his jaw that he missed with your thumb. “Can’t let that handsome face of yours get stained. And, speaking of stains,” you turned back to the shield, holding it up for the both of you to look at, the soft light from the window above the sink making it shine even more. “You think we got it all?”

“Hmmm. I think you missed a spot.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “What? Where?”

He leaned closer to the shield, face right besides yours, cheeks practically brushing together. “Right…here.” His hand that you didn’t notice cupping water, came up and splashed your face.

You let out a shriek, stepping back, further into his chest, your jaw dropped. “Steven! My pjs!”

He cackled, leaning back and holding his chest, before gasping when you did the same thing back to him. “You’re on!” He grabbed his shield and filled it with water, making you squeak and try getting out of his hold. Stupid Super Soldier strength. He dumped it on you, water falling on your head, sliding down your back and making your pajamas stick to you. You quickly retaliated, grabbing the facet and turning it towards him, laughing at his shout.

The water fight continued for a few more minutes, bowls and cups coming into play, with Steve diving behind the counter and you slipping on the floor.

“Woah, there, honey!” He chuckled, the chortles coming from your lips reassuring him that you weren’t hurt. He leaned over you, reaching his hand out. “You okay?”

You nodded, taking his hand. “Let’s call it a truce, yeah?”

“Truce? Hell no! I won!”

“You did not! You just got lucky!”

He pulled you up, tugging you close. “Alright, alright. Fine. A truce. Let’s get you into some dry clothes, now. Don’t want you gettin’ sick, honey.”

You shook your head. “That’s actually a myth.”

“I’ll take note of that.”

An eyebrow of yours raised. “In that little notebook you never let me read?”

He smiled innocently. “Maybe. I added something else yesterday.” He informed you while tugging you down the hall to your room.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Marvin Gaye’s Trouble Man Soundtrack.”

You hummed with an approving nod. “Yeah. That was a good suggestion. Who gave it to you?’

“This guy I met on my run.” He shrugged, heading over to his dresser as you grabbed a couple towels. “Sam Wilson. He seemed like a good guy.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded, grabbed another set of sweats and a shirt, before turning to you and taking the towel you handed him. “Yeah. He served two tours in Afghanistan. Now he’s working down at the VA. Told me to drop by sometime.”

“Aww.” You stood on your tiptoes to ruffle his hair. “My bubba’s all grown up and making friends.”

He rolled his eyes, ducking away from your hand and running his own through his hair. “Yeah, yeah.” His smile dropped as he looked at the clothes in his hand. “I think I’m gonna head out now. I should talk to Fury.”

You frowned. “You have all day, Steve. Just eat first, okay?”

“Okay.”

He was holding something back, you could tell. Picking out your clothes for the day, you decided to question him about it. “What’re you thinking about?”

Your backs turned to each other, you started changing, just as you’d down countless times before. “I was thinking about going to the Air and Space Museum again. If you wanna come.”

“You know I do.”

It was quiet for a few more minutes, only the sound of rustling clothes and zippers filling the air. “I-I think I’m gonna go after. To see her, I mean.”

You froze, keeping your heart and your breathing steady so he wouldn’t pick up on anything. “It’ll be good for you. She…she always knows what to say.”

“So do you.”

You cleared your throat, finishing with the final touches of your outfit. “I actually forgot that I have some stuff to finish up at HQ today, so I dunno if I’ll be able to go-”

His hand grabbed your wrist, turning you around, eyes pleading and face fallen. “Please. Please come with me. Honey. I need you there. With me. Please.”

You inwardly cursed yourself for falling for those puppy eyes, a soft sigh leaving your lips. “Okay, bubs. I’ll come with you.” You might regret it later, but the relief that washed over his features was worth it for now. The power he had over you scared you, especially since you knew he didn’t realize the hold he had on you, but you couldn’t help it. It happened quickly, swiftly, and you were down before you recognized it. And you didn’t know how to deal with it other than taking it one day at a time.

“Let’s go get some breakfast, now. I can promise it’s at least decent.”

The beam he shot you made your heart flutter no matter how hard you tried keeping calm. “I’m sure it’s better than anything I could ever make.” He pulled you close, lips brushing over your forehead. “Thank you.”

“For what?” You sighed, leaning your head against his, eyes closing.

“Existing.”

***********

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All Works Taglist (Open):

@happygoreading​

@bibliophilewednesday​

#cjswriting #fatws series oneshots #falcon and the winter soldier series oneshots #fatws series oneshot 3 #fatws series #stars stripes and bubbles oneshot #steve rogers x reader #kinda #💛🧭 #❤🐦💙🦾⏪

[bl--ankhaeji]

Picture Perfect

Pairing ~ Johnny x reader 

Genre ~ Smut,,some fluff but mostly smut 

Warning ~ uhh unprotected sex,,creampie,,very vulgar probably the most i’ve been with a smut so far,,a sprinkle of degradation and praise here and there,,

A/N ~ I wrote this in a couple of hours after inspiration struck,,uhh if you ask me this probably the most graphic smut i’ve written so far,,i really should be focusing on finishing my other shit that I already started but what can ya do 🤷🏽‍♀️,,sorry to the people who are waiting on me to finish shit

W.Count ~ 2.2k

Pulling into the driveway you see the car’s headlights illuminate the quaint house. It’s as if you can feel your heart about to leap out of your chest, the anxiety from meeting his parents for the first time is almost overwhelming. That’s when you feel his hand grab yours tightening his grip a silent way of reassuring you that everything will be fine. “Babe, calm down I can practically hear the alarms going off in your head. Everything will be fine, I promise they’ll love you almost as much as I do.” his hand squeezes yours once more before you see the door to the house open a small kind looking Asian woman sticking her head to see who is outside. 

“It's time.” you think to yourself taking in and releasing a deep breath. You see out of the corner of your eye your boyfriend of 2 years stepping out of the car, making his way to your side. The crisp night air that hits your exposed skin brings a chill before you see his hand reach into the car and his loving gaze sets on you. You both make your way to the still open door hand in hand and it’s like your soul leaves your body as the older woman takes you into her arms immediately. 

“Y/n, oh my gosh it’s so nice to finally meet the girl I can’t stop hearing about.” You feel safe and at home in her loving arms and suddenly you’re not so scared anymore. She loosens her grip on your body standing back a little to survey your face. “You’re just as beautiful as I’ve been told.” she says and the smile on her face anything but malicious. 

“Wow mom I can’t believe you just skipped over me like that. It’s not like I’m your son or anything.” you can practically hear the eye roll in his words as they leave his mouth. 

“Ohhh my John-ah you know I love you my big baby.” and you feel the warmth from Johnny’s mom’s hug evaporate as she wraps her arms around her son. “Oh my god why are we still outside. Come in, come in.” 

Inside you meet Johnny’s father and the apparent creator of coffee. Having to stifle a laugh when you are reminded of the time Johnny told you about that. Safe to say after meeting both of his parents you come to the conclusion that you had no reason to believe they wouldn’t like you. Throughout the night you even believed at some points Johnny’s parents were more excited to see you than their own son. Which also did not go unnoticed by Johnny who made sure to voice his discontent. 

“Babe I told you, you didn’t have anything to worry about.” You both were on the way back to your shared apartment. It being late and the exhaustion that came from stressing over meeting Johnny’s parents made you pretty tired. “They loved you, I think even more than me.” he quips, his jovial laugh filling the expanse of the car.

“Yea, your mom wouldn’t stop complimenting me, I was starting to get flustered. At least now I can see where you get all of your charisma.” you chuckle placing your hand on his that sat on top of the gear shifter.

A pout makes its way onto his handsome face as you notice yourselves about to pull into your apartment complex, “I was a little salty to see my mom take my job for the night. I didn’t get to flirt with you nearly as much as I would’ve liked.” Squeezing his hand you reach into your purse grabbing the keys to the door. 

“It’s ok, you have me for the rest of your life so you can make it up to me.” you say not fully hearing what you just implied, but Johnny heard you, loud and clear. Making your way into your apartment you instantly kick off your shoes at the door, happy that you can finally change into something more comfortable. 

You and Johnny both walk into your bedroom Johnny making his way to the bathroom whilst you stand in front of your vanity taking off the clothes and jewelry you had put on for tonight. After stripping down to nothing but your bra and panties you’re in the process of taking off your necklace when Johnny walks out of the bathroom in nothing but his underwear. “God Bless Calvin Klein.” you think as he walks across the room to the closet as if it was nothing, and it usually is but tonight it wasn’t. 

You lower your upper half onto your forearms, bent over the vanity, “My, what a,” you gesture to his lower regions, “Nice sized bulge you have there.” looking into his eyes through the mirror with hopefully all the lust you currently feel. Johnny stops mid stride and looks at you, his face twisted in confusion before he sees the look in your eyes and you watch as a cocky smirk makes its way onto his face.

“Why thank you, I work it out to make sure that when it grows it’s all nice and strong.” The words fall from his lips like its second nature, playing along with what you started. You step closer to male, so close that you can feel his body heat radiate from his skin. 

“You wouldn’t mind if I,” Leaning towards his ear you make sure to lower your voice to the most seductive tone you can imagine , “Take a look.”  the breath from your words ghost over his ear and you slowly run your tongue up the expanse of his outer ear before landing a kiss on his neck. 

You can feel the low rumble in his chest before you hear it. His hands grip your sides before they make their way to your shoulders and he makes you stand face to face with him, “Be my guest.”  

Your body lowers itself before you can even realize what’s happening. Once on your knees you pull Johnny’s underwear down in one fell swoop. “You have one, lovely cock here if I do say so myself.” you drag on,“I have the burning urge to put it in my mouth,” licking your lips you look at the man standing over you, “Can I?” 

A grin etches itself onto Johnny’s face and you can see in his eyes that he is having too much fun with this. “Well that is why I work it out ma’am so please do.” Johnny’s words are like fine wine and they are most definitely getting you drunk. You take the hardening cock into your hands guiding it into your mouth. Even when not at full mass Johnny still has a monster of a dick and you feel that at times like these when he stretched your mouth to its limit. Working your tongue down his cock you make sure to not leave one spot untouched. 

Your hands find a home on his thighs gripping to steady yourself. Knowing Johnny’s cock like the back of your hand you instantly flick one of his sweet spots under the head. You can feel the wetness building up in your panties and when you massage Johnny’s balls pulling a delicious groan from him you feel like you can’t get any wetter. “Shit miss, you sure know how to suck cock. I think it’s my lucky day to have stumbled upon a slut like you, huh?” He caresses the bulge in your cheek from his dick. 

All you can give is a Mhmm taking him deeper into your mouth whilst sucking harder you hear him moan and his hand travels from your cheek to your throat cupping it where his dick bulges. “Fuck, you love my dick in your throat huh? You were so hungry for cock that you have to ask the first man you see if you could suck it.” He takes you off of his dick as you watch the line of saliva connecting you and the head of his dick. 

Johnny pulls you up and gives your face a once over, no doubt he’s looking at your swollen lips envisioning them still around cock. He picks you up sitting you on top of your vanity, his forehead rests on yours, “I have to get a taste of you.” he all but forces out of his mouth. 

Your hands make their way to his shoulders gripping them in desperation, “No, w-we can do that later. But now I just want you to fuck me, please.” you speak, lips grazing against his. Johnny takes a rough kiss from your lips pulling your underwear down and taking your bra off. He slides a finger into your dripping hole before working in two more. A moan drips off of your lips like honey followed by a whine, frustrated that it’s his fingers and not something else. 

“Fuck, I can’t wait to get my dick in here.” and although his mouth said one thing his actions said another, removing his fingers he grabs his cock rubbing it up and down your slit before positioning it at your entrance, but instead of pushing in fully he only pushes the tip in before taking it back out again. He keeps doing that, making you restless. 

“Sir, mmm please. Stick it in, please.” your legs wrap around his waist as your hips start moving trying to figure out any way it can get his cock in your cunt. He lowers his head to your neck, biting and sucking fully knowing of the marks that’ll be left behind. Against your neck you feel his tongue lick under your jawbone. 

“Mmm at least this slut knows how to beg. Maybe I’ll grant your wish but I’ll need clearer instructions first, what exactly do you want me to do.” His warm breath ghosts across your skin and you have to find every bit of patience in you. 

“I want your cock.” 

“That’s good baby now tell me where.” All the while he never stops rubbing the tip of his dick up and down your slit and slightly pushing it into your wet cavern. 

“F-fuck in,” taking a deep breath only being able to focus on the movement of his cock your mind goes blank, “Uh-uh fuck, I want your cock in mmm in my dirty cunt.” 

“Ohh I like the way you worded that. You do have a dirty cunt don’t you baby, just letting whoever wherever use it. I could make you my personal cock sleeve and you wouldn’t mind would you?” You probably resemble a bobble head the way you vigorously nod your head. A chuckle leaves his lips and he delivers a cool kiss to your neck, “That’s my little cocksleeve.” 

Like an itch being scratched you feel him push his way into your wet snatch as a moan involuntarily leaves your body and you feel him groan into your neck. His hips snap into yours at a steady pace as he delivers slow deep thrusts. “Damn, you’re like a vice. Gripping me and sucking me in,” he moves his face to be level with yours. A cocky smirk sits on his lips as he looks into your eyes, “Best damn cocksleeve out there.” 

His thrusts speed up, reaching deeper every time he enters. Your moans quickly turn into babbles as he moves his hand to your clit rubbing it just the way you like. “Look at you, barely able to form coherent words just from my cock, and to think earlier tonight you portrayed the picture perfect image of a sweet girl to my parents. When in reality you’re just a picture perfect cock hungry slut.” Dropping the role he had taken on his words continue, “But no you’re not just any cock hungry slut, you’re my cock hungry slut aren’t you baby.” his unoccupied hand comes up to wrap around your throat applying just enough pressure to cut off your airways as he lays another kiss this time on your cheek. 

“You’re my good little cocksleeve aren’t you?” your eyes practically roll into the bad of your head as all of the sensations come together at once, overwhelming you pushing you to the brink. You didn’t even feel your orgasmn coming, it just took over you by storm. Your body convulses and you’re so focused on the pleasure of your lower region that you don’t even feel the tears roll down your cheeks Johnny lovingly kissing the salty beads of water away. “That’s it baby, cum for me. You’re doing so good.” 

“Shit, you’re so tight. I-I’m about to cum.” He alerts you of his impending orgasmn, “Take it baby, take my cum.” His arm comes up to the wall behind you supporting himself as his sentence is punctuated with a moan as he forcefully cums in you creating another mini orgasm to kick off for you. You both revel in post coiatal bliss as Johnny lets you down, and your legs almost instantly give out having been turned to jello. You walk against the wall in order to make it to the bathroom so you can pee.         

Walking back in you see that Johnny has moved towards the bed the post nut clarity still in the forefront of his mind. You crawl under the covers and onto Johnny. You almost doze off to sleep until you hear his voice, “You want to get married?”.

#nct #nct johnny #nct johnny smut #johnny smut #nct smut #nct fluff #nct 127 #nct u #nct 2020 #johnny suh #nct 127 smut #nct 127 fluff #johnny imagines #MY STORIES #nct imagines #nct scenarios

[fruitcoops]

could you write a coops getting a piercing or tattoo (one or both of them)?

Part 6 of the Coops wedding fics! Thank you to everyone who has read this series--it’s been so much fun writing these, and hearing everyone’s thoughts made the past week an absolute blast. Hope you enjoy!

Check out the rest of the series on the Series Masterlist!

If someone had told twenty-year-old Sirius that in a few years, he would be walking into a tattoo parlor, hand-in-hand with his husband as they prepared to get their wedding date permanently inked on his skin…well, he probably would have laughed in their face. He had never been a big fan of tattoos—they looked cool, sure, but he never understood the point of going through all that hullabaloo for something that would stretch and fade.

Now, though, he saw the point. Wedding rings were amazing, but they were easy to lose; tattoo ink, on the other hand, was a permanent reminder that he had scored the most wonderful person on the planet as his husband.

“Right this way,” Jaya, the young artist with bright blue hair said, smiling as they waved him and Remus into the back. “Congrats on the wedding, by the way. How long has it been?”

“Three weeks.” Remus squeezed his hand and Sirius smiled, running his thumb over the ring. God, he would never get tired of seeing it there.

“It went well, I assume?” Jaya asked as they began setting up.

“It was perfect.” Sirius felt a jolt of fear in his stomach when he saw the tattoo gun, but quickly quashed it down; they had done their research and worked on the design with Jaya even before the actual wedding. He wanted to do this.

“We talked about the process over the phone, but do you have any questions? I’ll go over aftercare again once we’re done.” Jaya paused for a moment, but neither of them spoke up. “Alright, then, which brave soul wants to go first?”

Best to get it over with, Sirius thought. “I can go,” he said, much quieter than intended. Remus raised his eyebrows and he kissed his forehead quickly in reassurance before settling into the chair. He let go of Remus’ hand for a second to pull his shirt over his head, then took it once again and tried to stop the fluttery nerves in his gut.

“Right in the center, yeah?” Jaya leaned down with a stencil, their silver-lined eyes flicking up to Sirius’ face.

“Yep.”

“Alright.” He swallowed hard at the cold feeling of the paper on his skin, just below the hollow of his throat. His neck felt bare without the necklace, but it would be back soon enough. Jaya held a mirror up to show the small numbers. “Look good?”

Sirius nodded. “Let’s do it.”

His heart hammered in his throat and he let out a shaky breath as Jaya cleaned the area and cleaned up their drawing, then picked up the tattoo gun. “Je t’ai,” Remus murmured as he closed his eyes in a last-ditch attempt at relaxing. “You’re alright.”

“Oh, fuck,” Sirius hissed when the needles touched his skin. He clenched his teeth and tightened his grip on Remus’ hand, breathing slowly as pain prickled all across his chest. It felt like a million bee stings, or the last week of his broken ribs healing.

“Do you need a break?” Jaya asked without looking up.

“Just keep going,” he managed, blinking rapidly at the ceiling. The buzzing sound wasn’t quite as frightening as the strange kind of pain, but it certainly didn’t settle his anxiety.

“You okay, baby?” Remus folded his other hand over Sirius’ and traced a pattern into his wrist.

“Mhmm.”

“Lily and James invited us to dinner next week. Harry’s been asking to see the new baby lions at the zoo with you specifically. He’s also learned the word ‘lame’ and won’t stop using it on James.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Lily says it was her fault, but she told James it was me who taught him to say it.” Remus rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.

“It’s karma. You taught him to actually swear, after all.”

“You’re supposed to be on my side,” Remus complained. “The line is, ‘that’s so unfair, sweetheart, and we need to get revenge’.”

“Right, sor—ow.” Sirius blew out a harsh breath as the needle skimmed over a sensitive patch of skin and bit the inside of his lip.

Jaya made a sympathetic noise. “Just a couple more minutes in this area and then we’ll take a break.”

Sirius turned his head toward Remus and quirked an eyebrow. “Were you trying to distract me?”

“It worked, didn’t it?” He moved one hand up to brush the hair off his forehead; Sirius melted into the touch, channeling his attention into the tingly feeling of Remus’ fingers in his hair. “Almost done, love.”

“I’ve got most of it done,” Jaya said, sitting back at last. “Just cleanup work now, and that’ll only take a few minutes. You’re lucky with all the muscle on your chest. It would hurt like a bitch if it was closer to the bone.”

“It already hurts like a bitch,” Sirius laughed, grimacing as Jaya flexed their hand and leaned in again.

“When you two told me your placements at our first appointment, I was a bit surprised,” they murmured, back in the zone already. “Most first-timers don’t choose such sensitive spots.”

“The placement was the important part,” he said, wincing.

“With your necklace, right?”

“Yep.”

“I always like it when people have cute meanings.” Jaya swiped their cloth over the small tattoo before continuing. “I mean, I got most of my ink because I thought it looked cool, but hearing people’s stories is the best part of the job.”

“Would you say the wrist or the chest is more painful?” Remus asked.

Jaya bit their lip. “Depends on the person. The chest area has more bone, but wrists are notorious for hurting.”

Remus hummed, but Sirius heard the edge of tension and kissed the side of his hand. “You’ll be fine.”

“You’re one in the chair,” he laughed. “I’m supposed to be reassuring you right now.”

Jaya glanced up at him. “Count down from thirty for me?”

Sirius frowned in confusion, but obliged; as soon as he reached ‘zero’, Jaya set the tattoo gun down and stretched their back out. “Was that—is it done?”

“Yep. Congrats, you’ve got a tattoo!” Jaya grinned as he sat up, then handed him a mirror. There, in black ink covering a space the size of a quarter, laid a perfect ‘6/12’. The skin around it was bright, angry red, but Sirius was more focused on the familiar slant to the six and the curl of the two; he had seen it written on the PT room whiteboard countless times and, more recently, their mock-up wedding invitations. “Do you like it?”

Sirius cleared his throat as a lump tightened it. “It’s—I love it. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.” Jaya handed him his shirt as he stood. Remus took his place, looking a little pale as he rested his hand on the small table Jaya had set up next to the chair. “Still okay with the inside of your wrist?”

Remus hesitated, then set his jaw and nodded. “All good.”

“Are you sure.”

“A hundred percent,”

“Alright, let’s get that stencil on.” Jaya worked with clear intent and smooth ease—that had been one of the main reasons they decided on this shop above the others in the area. The cleaning was quick, Remus approved the stencil, and then they got to work.

“Holy fuck, you weren’t kidding about the wrist,” he half-laughed, gripping Sirius’ hand in a white-knuckled hold. “Now would be a good time to start talking, baby.”

“Oh! Um, we need to pick up eggs from the grocery store.” Jaya had to sit back as they both burst out laughing; Sirius put his face in his free hand to hide his blush. “Sorry, I panicked.”

“Why don’t you tell me about your day with Tremzy?” Remus suggested, wiping tears from the corner of his eyes as he settled back down.

“Yeah, okay,” Sirius said lamely. “Uh, I kicked his ass in Smash Bros.”

“You’ve got yourself a keeper,” Jaya said as they started working on Remus’ wrist again.

He smiled up at Sirius. “I know.”

The next fifty minutes passed much the same as they had while Sirius was getting his tattoo—he chatted almost nonstop, rambling about Logan’s terrible cooking and the standing invitation to bring Regulus along for a ‘we survived the Dumais house’ party. Remus scrunched his face up every few minutes, but Sirius kept their shoulders pressed together as he toyed with his free hand. Jaya gave him a thirty-second countdown as well before wiping away the last of the stray ink with a smile.

“How’s it look?”

Remus’ breath caught when he looked down, running his thumb along the lower edge. “That’s exactly what I wanted, thank you so much.”

“Any time, dude. Both of you have good pain tolerance.” They slid their cart to the side of the room again and stood, gathering some gauze and plastic wrap.

Remus leaned his head on Sirius’ shoulder with a sigh. “You have the prettiest handwriting.”

“And you have no excuse for forgetting our anniversary,” he teased, kissing his cheek. “How’s it feel?”

“Like I just got stabbed by a bunch of needles.”

Jaya snorted as he held his arm out for the bandages. “This might shock you, but…”

The three of them broke down laughing and Sirius shook his head, fiddling with the edge of the tape that he could feel under his shirt. A dull ache had begun spreading warmth over his skin and he knew the itching would drive him half-crazy over the next two weeks, but it was an easy price to pay for having his husband’s handwriting on him for the rest of his life. A permanent ‘I love you’, he had said the night after they decided on the design. Sirius smiled to himself as Jaya outlined the aftercare procedures. Permanent. Permanent sounded good.

[thran-duils]

Lost in Zero Gravity (P.21)

Title: Lost In Zero Gravity (Part Twenty One) Summary:  Fem!Reader x Mob Boss!Tony Stark x Mob Boss!Steve Rogers.  Reader is a call girl who runs high end parties. She catches the attention of Tony Stark who invites her back to his room with his friend. She might have performed too well because she becomes their new favorite play toy and they don’t like to share. Words: 3,051 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Smut, prostitution, infidelity, angst, domestic violence, stalking, possessive behavior, drug use

Part Twenty || Part Twenty Two || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

“What the hell happened?” Rhodey demanded after a few moments of awkward silence after Steve had stormed out.

Happy had closed the door after Steve, also looking at Tony now with expectation for an answer.

“Nothing,” Tony said aggressively, pushing the reactor and the suit began retracting.

“Nothing? You don’t get to cause that uproar here in the facility and then not give any of us an answer—” Rhodey started to argue.

“Who’s in charge here?” Tony interrupted him shortly.

Rhodey shook his head, “Tony, that’s not fair. And you know it.”

“Life isn’t fair,” Tony quipped, walking over to his desk to snatch up his phone. He began texting quickly.

“If something is going on between you two, the rest of the team deserves to know! Especially since you’re pulling the ‘who is in charge’ card. That’s the two of you!” Rhodey said. “You manage a lot of people and factions are not what the operation needs to function properly.” He stepped closer and continued, “It’s her isn’t it? Heard pregnancy test and that’s not hard to deduce why both of you would be concerned about that.”

Tony was scrolling through his phone, not answering Rhodey.

Irked, Rhodey pressed, “I don’t know why the two of you thought sharing was going to work out. You are both hardheaded, sons of—”

“Rhodey, if you’re going to continue nagging at me like an old lady, please just leave. I’m busy,” Tony interjected again, distracted still.

“No! You need to be open!” Rhodey shouted, finally fully catching Tony’s attention. Happy rose his brows in surprise at his boldness. “You two just almost plummeted each other.”

Tony ground his teeth, staring Rhodey down. Exhaling sharply, he finally said, “Fine. Yes. You’re right. Her. And you know, everything was going fine before Steve started having his martial problems. And he started playing fast and loose with Y/N’s safety. He brought her on a mission a couple of days ago – with Bucky and Sam, mind you, so they’re also on my shit list – using her as a pawn and she had no idea what was going on. He left her on a boat with Qian and Perez. Got her caught it the middle of the crossfire, so that was a fun clean up job for me.” That was shock to Rhodey and Happy, both of them caught off guard. “So, yeah, I’m a little fucking piqued, you could say. He’s spiraling because of things at home.” He paused for a beat before sighing, “And he was fucking with her birth control. So, hey, I might be a dad. Again. Even if I didn’t want that.”

Tony all but collapsed into his chair behind his desk, tossing his phone down on the desk. “I don’t know if I should move her. I told him to stay away, and he lured me away and snuck in there and took her. He has a key.”

Rhodey was silent for the first time in the conversation but Happy offered, “It might be for the best.” Tony turned his attention to him and Happy continued, “If you are really worried about it. Removing temptation… sometimes that is the best medicine.”

<><><>

“Let’s go,” Steve said shortly, coming into the locker room. He threw open his locker and reached inside for the freshly washed uniform.

“What the hell happened?” Sam demanded, seeing how disheveled Steve was. He was fresh out of the shower after having done an intense work out.

“Nothing. I’m gonna get suited up and start working. Are you going to join?”

“What do you mean ‘nothing’? Your chin is cut up and—”

Steve barked, shutting Sam up, “I said nothing happened, Sam!” He tossed his suit on the bench behind him and began working at the buttons on his three piece to get undressed.

Sam stood up, gripping at the towel around his waist, staring Steve down. He glared as Steve tossed his suit jacket onto the bench and ripped his tie off. Steve noticed his glare and his hands began to falter under the intensity until they slowly fell. His dress shirt was unbuttoned, and his belt undone.

Evenly, Sam asked, “What happened? What is going on?”

Steve sighed heavily, his hands coming to his hips, head hanging. He was quiet for a few moments, breathing deeply. His voice was quiet when he admitted, “Tony and I got into it. Badly. Right in his office. I… he pissed me off and I just saw red. He hit where he shouldn’t have and he did it on purpose to get a rise out of me. And I fell for it. Like a fucking idiot.” He rubbed at his face. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Take a step back.”

“It’s not as easy as that, Sam!”

“I mean from work. Take some time. You don’t need to throw yourself into this just to escape whatever is happening. Take a step back from work and focus on the shit in your personal life.”

Steve chewed on his lip before saying quietly, “You’re right.” He nodded this time and repeated, “You’re right. I… I need…”

Sam cut in, picking up his slack. “You need to do what’s best for you and your wife. That’s what’s important.”

Steve nodded again. Sam was not privy to his relationship with Y/N. All he knew was she was a prostitute that Steve visited sometimes. But he was right on one thing; he did want his relationship better with his wife. And right now, that was something that was going to be easier to control than his relationship with Y/N.

<><><>

Sitting at the table, eating lunch, you heard voices outside the hall coming closer and you put your fork down. The front door opened, and Tony walked in, followed by a handful of men. Luna booked it from her cat tower down the hallway towards the bedroom at the crowd. You stared at them confused as Tony was giving them directions about what to pack together. You spotted a few bringing in copious amounts of broken down moving boxes, carrying packing tape.

“Bedroom things first. That’s the most important. She needs somewhere to sleep obviously. The bed is easily broken down. The tools for it… I think are in the top drawer of the nightstand on the far side of the bed by the window. I made sure it would be nearby,” Tony was telling a few of them. He had failed to look or notice you at the table, sitting there bewildered. “I saw the cat run down there, so close the door when you go in. She’ll probably run into the closet if she’s under the bed. I just want her corralled and out of the way of everyone else. Do not – and I repeat, do NOT – let her out! We’ll get her into the cat carrier after everything is packed up. And you all are in charge of making sure that bed is ready to go at the new condo.”

New condo?

He turned towards a few more of them and said, “Start breaking down the living room.” To the last couple, he said, “The bathroom. Be sure to properly label everything.”

Tony finally laid eyes on you and walked over to the kitchen table, pulling out his cell phone. “How are you doing, love?”

“How am I… what is happening?” you inquired.

“You’re moving,” Tony informed you, texting.

The men were already setting to work, and you moved your gaze around the apartment in disbelief. Who were these guys and what in the actual fuck was going on?

“Why?” you asked confused.

“Because. I found somewhere better priced.”

“Where?”

“Carnegie Hill.”

That was his neighborhood. He had told you that before, to your immense surprise, giving away his home location. But he had – as you suspected – started trusting you more in recent months. Why was he moving you closer to his family? And especially in that neighborhood? Cheaper? You were hard pressed to believe that bald-faced lie.

“You found something cheaper there than this?” you asked him, completely disbelieving.

“Yep,” Tony told you curtly, still not looking up from his phone. “A nice condo. Nice dropped living room and dining room. Iron work looks great.” You were staring at him intensely as he clicked away on his phone. He felt the burn of your stare and looked up. “What?”

Exasperated you threw your hands out, “What… Tony! I’m just sitting here eating lunch and all these people are in here now and just packing up my stuff! And you’re telling me I’m moving!”

Tony exhaled sharply, tossing his phone onto the table as he pulled out a chair beside you and sat down. Leaning in close he said, “You’re moving closer to me. It’s easier.”

“Easier?”

“Better,” he offered.

“Why? So I can run into your wife into one of the coffee shops and she can maul my face there?”

Tony’s expression was hard, and you really could not give a shit less. You had already told him how you felt about being in close proximity with her.

“First off, Alessia does not go get her own coffee. She sends people for that, Or she has the maid make it for her in her French press. Hell would freeze over the day she was asked to stand in a line and agree to it,” Tony started out, his tone tight. “And secondly, only I will have a key to the place.”

Reality set in on what he was doing. He was leaving Steve out. Did Steve even know this was going on? The memory of Tony last night telling you that he loved you outright flashed through your mind. He had been furious when he had learned what Steve had done to you. A wedge had been driven between them at your expense.

“So, yes, easier. And better,” Tony clipped, leaning away from you again, keeping his gaze fixated on you for a few more moments before tearing it away. He picked up his phone again and unlocked it. “Finish your lunch. You don’t have to lift a finger for this. They’ve got it covered. All we gotta do is get Luna into a carrier. And that’ll be easy, right?”

You were at a loss for words. What if Steve came looking for you? How angry was he going to be when he realized that you were no longer here? And would he think it was you that had asked Tony to move you? You had so many questions.

Tony picked up your fork and held it out to you. “Eat, love. Just relax. I’ve got it covered.”

Timidly, you reached out and took the fork from him, and he visibly relaxed of the tension in his body. You stuck your fork into your rice and took a bite, watching the men working warily.

<><><>

Steve kissed up Cecile’s abdomen, his trail leading between her breasts and up to her lips. She smiled against his lips as he entered her slowly. They rocked together in tandem, coming down together. Steve held her close and whispered in her ear, “Let’s take a few days. You and me. Maine?”

“Seclusion is always nice,” Cecile told him, pecking him on the nose, causing Steve to smile.

“Right on the sea?” Steve questioned, holding her close, cognizant of her swollen abdomen.

Cecile traced his face and said, “You know what I like.”

“That I do,” Steve returned softly. He kissed her deep and relished in feeling like they were truly close again.

<><><>

You had just gotten out of the shower to wash the chlorine off of you. One of the perks of the new condo was the pool. You enjoyed doing laps and the hot tub afterward. Sitting in a robe, you picked up the remote and turned on the TV. Choosing a show, you unwrapped the popsicle you had taken out of the fridge.

The familiar sound of the key in the door echoed and you did not bother to move, knowing the only one who would be coming in was Tony. You had been here for a week and had finished rearranging all of your things in the new layout a couple days ago. Thankfully, Luna had adjusted and loved the window beds on the large windows, giving her access to watch out over the street.

He was dressed down – unusual for him. And he looked nervous, and you were on edge immediately just as you had been when he had looked that way sitting in the living room when you had come home from the gym.

“What?” you asked him reluctantly.

He said nothing. He held a bag out to you, and you stared at him for a moment before you opened it, peaking in.

Your stomach dropped, seeing another pregnancy test.

“Why are you making me do this? For real this time?” you asked him seriously.

He licked his lips and sat down stiffly on the opposite end of the couch. He was refusing to look at you, his elbows resting on his thighs, hands clasped. “I… you need to do it.”

“Why?” you pressed.

“Because. You… you might be pregnant.”

Shaking your head, you told him, “I already took a test. Less than two weeks ago!”

“Have you missed a period?”

“I rarely bleed,” you countered.

“That makes it even more important that you take the test then.”

“Why are you so concerned about this?”

Tony exhaled sharply, hanging his head. He was silent for a few moments, the suspension in the room thick. His voice was brittle, “You weren’t protected. For over a month. December and January, respectfully, between the two.”

You gaped at him. Stammering, you asked, “W-what are you talking about?”

He looked resistant to speak but he shook his head, “Steve.”

“Steve, what?” you asked dangerously.

“He told me at the beginning of January that he had been fucking around with your birth control. Giving you placebos.”

You felt like you had been kicked. Your fingers grasped tighter onto the paper back, it crinkling in your hand. The silence in the room was deafening; Tony refusing to look at you made it even worse.

If what he was saying was true, Steve had betrayed you beyond belief. You had thought his actions at the docks were the lowest he could go but apparently, he was determined to prove you wrong. And for what? To lock you down further?

“Why?” you rasped.

Tony shrugged, “I don’t know. Really. He… he’s having problems. At home, with his wife, I mean.”

“And? Getting me pregnant was going to solve that?”

“No,” Tony gave a dry laugh, shaking his head. “No, it wouldn’t have solved it. He’s… he’s not thinking straight. That has been made noticeably clear.”

“You knew?” you asked quietly. And he finally looked at you, shame etched into his features. “When you asked me to take the first test?”

His answer hit you like a ton of bricks. “Yeah, I did.”

“And you didn’t say anything?” you asked breathlessly.

“You… you were negative. And I was just going to let it rest and move on. No purpose of drawing up drama when it didn’t need to be drawn up.”

“I trusted you,” you half gasped, getting up from the couch.

Tony followed your movement, half stumbling around the opposite side of the couch to chase after you as you clutched the bag close to your chest. He quickly dove into excuses, “I mean it when I said I thought it should stay buried. As long as it was okay. To save you from that stress. And I thought Steve could get his head on straight. But then he went and proved me fucking wrong. So wrong. And that’s why I moved you. He doesn’t know where you are. I’m not going to let him around you. Not until he can prove he has himself set straight again. And if that never happens, then you don’t have to see him again!”

He sounded so desperate for you to forgive him, thank him for what he was doing.

Swallowing sharply, you put up a wall. Coldly, you told him, “I have to go do this.” You tapped the bag. “You know… something I didn’t want to have to do. Ever. But here I am forced again by controlling men to do shit against my will.”

Tony looked wounded by that, and you ignored it, turning on your heel, storming down the hallway. You gritted your teeth. You were going to do your damndest to not cry.

<><><>

It had been over ten minutes since Y/N had locked the bathroom door before he finally heard something.

Tony was leaning on the wall outside and he heard her stifle a sob. His eyes closed, exhaling deeply. He pushed away from the wall and his hand came to the door handle of the door, but he hesitated. His hand fell from the handle, deciding to give her space, and he walked away back towards the living room, his hand coming up to rub at his face, distressed.

Yes, it was going to be easier having her close by pregnant to watch over, he thought to himself.

Regardless of if it was his or not.

<><><>

Daryl or Eric were not in the lobby, causing Steve to frown. Were they upstairs? He got into the elevator, a bad feeling swirling in his gut.

He exited the elevator, holding the envelope to Y/N’s favorite local boutique close to him. He meant to just slide it underneath the door to avoid pissing Tony off even further but to still connect to her. Extend an olive branch and slowly apologize, getting himself back to her good graces.

He stopped though, seeing Terrence or Wylan were not there at the hallway’s end. Worry was beginning to seep in deep at the fact both sets of men were not where they were supposed to be.

Picking up his pace, Steve moved to her apartment door and his heart hammered seeing the keylock on her door instead of a deadbolt. That meant she had moved, and the apartment was empty.

His jaw set, fury burning its way through him.

Tony, that son of a bitch.

~~~

Forever tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld

Fic tags: @icant-hangout-imdrumming @oceaniamaddness @multifandom-superlover @imsonick @holl2712 @here4thefanfics @agustdowney @fanofalltheficsx @buttercandy16 @last-saturday-night

#tony stark x reader #steve rogers x reader #dark tony stark #dark steve rogers #dark marvel #dark marvel fic #dark!tony stark #dark!steve rogers #my shit

[rk1kheadcanons]

Markus and Connor are secret dating b/c Connor doesn't wanna be out to the world yet. The Jericrew (-Connor) go drinking and Markus gets *drunk* and starts rambling about his boyf after he rebuffs an advance made by a lady at the bar super sappily, but no matter how hard the others press him, they just get "oh, his eyes are the color of warm chocolate..." answers as to who this boyf is

You would never know Markus was drunk.

He didn’t stutter or slur when he spoke, he didn’t sway or trip over his feet. He didn’t giggle goofily or speak overly loud. He was perfectly composed, as much the charismatic android sober as he was when he was intoxicated.

What he did do, however, was go on long monologues like a Shakespearian stage actor.

Which would be fine, if Markus’ favorite subject to wax poetic about wasn’t his mysterious boyfriend, whom he’d sworn not to reveal the identity of until they were ready. Which would also be fine, if that mysterious boyfriend wasn’t Connor, who was often sitting right next to him (and slowly but surely bluescreening his way into that big Windows XP wallpaper in the sky) as he sang and lathered compliment after compliment, steadily giving away clues that were so blatant that it was a miracle that no one had figured them out yet.

Markus never remembered what he’d done the next day, and whenever Connor mercilessly played back his memories, his poor lover was as embarrassed as he was apologetic. Connor could hardly begrudge him (frankly he didn’t know what sane person on this planet could ever begrudge Markus, but that was just Connor’s correct opinion). What could they even do about it? Should he demand Markus consciously control himself? It wasn’t like Connor was any better at it. Give the RK800 too many AMB’s (Adios Motherboards) and he would be on top of the nearest table and scream-singing his every professionally repressed emotion, regardless if it was a karaoke bar or not. Hence why he never imbibed more than he could handle when they were around their friends. The last thing he wanted to do was sloppily propose to Markus after a long and terrible rendition of K-Ci and JoJo.

And Connor wouldn’t dream of telling Markus to measure the contents of his drink like Connor did. Not when his breaks were so rare, and getting him to relax and let loose was like pulling teeth.

It was just in the cards that their big revelation as a couple would be in a random bar at 3AM, with Markus saying something along the lines of “my boyfriend’s name starts with a C and rhymes with Donner”, and Connor had made peace with that.

“Scarlet woman!” Markus cried, at some random bar at 3AM, surrounded by their drunken comrades. Ah, would this be the night? Connor thought, on the correct side of buzzed as he watched on from the table right next to them, a heady mix of dread and amusement running through his computer soul. “Jezebel! How d a r e you solicit my happily taken hand!”

The waitress, who looked like she regretted serving their table, let alone attempting to get the number from the happily taken hand, raised her hands in surrender. “Sorry, sorry,” she said peaceably and with the calm air of someone who dealt with drunks as a job choice, “just trying to shoot my shot, ya know?”

Markus nodded at her magnanimously, because he was a kind and forgiving man even as a drunken buffoon. “Fret not. I pardon you of this most heinous slight, for if you knew the one to own my heart, you would understand that no other could compare.”

“Sure thing dude,” she said goodnaturedly, packing up and replacing drinks around their tables expertly, and parting with a “have a good night Romeo.”

“But who can no other compare to? WHOMST??” asked North, throwing her torso onto the table and looking up at Markus pleadingly.

“We’ve ruled out Jerry #451, Claudia, Baris from accounting, and Jerry #36,” Simon rattled off. He was looking down at a napkin that he had scribbled the names of all of their potential suspects. “I’ve got it. It’s Baris.”

North rolled her eyes. “We already said it wasn’t Baris.”

“Ohhh. Right, right.” Simon nodded his head and continued to not cross off the names of the people they had decided against, as he had been doing all night.

“How about you describe them a little?” Josh put in, reasonable, and therefore slightly less wasted than everyone else. “Hair color? Height? Eyes? Something?”

“Nay, I must not speak thusly!” Markus declared, back of his hand over his forehead and everything. “For if I were to tread down that forbidden road, I would surely not be able to stop myself from breaking our sacred oath of secrecy!”

“Oh my goOOOOOOOd I hate this fucking oaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaath,” North threw her head back and cried to heavens, which, considering her positon, was probably going to be hell on her neck come morning. “Come on! Break your oath! Be like Thor and wield oathbreaker goddamnit!”

“You might be thinking of Stormbreaker,” Connor added, the need to try and reason with alcoholics apparently embedded in his programming.

North narrowed her eyes at him, or rather his torso, since her chin was very resolutely still resting on the table. “If you think I’m thinking right now then you are drunker than I am.”

Connor lifted his barely touched glass to her in a toast because how dare she be lucid enough to clap back so quickly. A well deserved rebuttal fucking cheers.

“Glasses!” Josh exclaimed, snapping his fingers. “Do they wear glasses? That should narrow down some people.”

“That’s right! That’ll tell us if they’re an android or not. Androids don’t wear glasses! Our eyes are like...fucking...better and shit!”

“Unless….” Simon narrowed his eyes, pausing dramatically. “....they do.”

North gasped. Josh put his hands on either side of face, muttering; “holy fucking shit he’s right.”

Markus scoffed. “Their eyes do not hide behind paltry spectacles! His beautiful orbs, so soft and caring when his gaze lands upon my person, seeing into my very soul, are the warmest chocolate brown!”

‘Ah shit here we go,’ Connor thought, wishing not for the first time that he could just down his drink and join everyone else in blissful, idiotic cavorting. The soft, melodic piano and crooning words of All My Life playing over the speaker stayed his hand. Best not take any chances

“HE!” Simon burst out, tipping over in his chair. “He say he! Them is He!”

“Are we talkin’ Hershey’s or Dove?”

“Ghirardelli you fucking plebs!”

“Oi!” North banged her hand on the table so hard it left a handprint indented in the wood. It was one amongst many however, and not all of them left by their party. Such was the price for serving android drinks at a human bar - you either shelled out for sturdier furniture or the dents and chips became a charming aspect of your décor. “Don’t get spicy with us Sir Lancelot!”

“Apologies fair maiden,” Markus responded easily. He took her hand delicately and made a sweeping bow over it. “Alas, my passions got away from me.” He dropped her hand and whirled around, coat billowing with the movement and most assuredly by accident, placing both hands to his thirium pump. “Conjuring up the magnificent images that is the love of my life oft times sends my emotions into a tizzy! His hair; cloud like in my grasp as I run my fingers threw earthen chestnut tendrils - ”

‘Hhhhhhhhhhhhn so many adjectives Markus whyyyyyyyyyy,’ Connor wheezed internally. He didn’t bother trying to keep down his blush. Markus was nowhere near done laying on the compliments and he’d be subjecting himself to an endless loop of canceling the process. Besides, he could just blame it on the alcohol. Blame it on the a a a a a alcohol - wait no. What!? WHAT. Connor looked down at his drink and saw, to his mounting horror, that the glass was emptier than it had been a few minutes ago. Goddamn his automated rest mode cycle for transforming into fidgeting whenever he was nervous! He resolutely pushed the glass out of his immediate reach.

Nines, who was quietly sitting next to him, hunched over and taking notes on his own napkin, snapped his head up to attention when the glass brushed against his arm. His younger brother was looking from Connor to Markus, eyes narrowed suspiciously as Markus carried on. Connor didn’t like that look at all. It was always a risk inviting Nines to their little outings, the only thing Connor could bank on was Nines passing out - as his dear little bro was a notorious light weight - before his deductive skills could pierce through his drunken haze. Apparently Nines had chosen tonight of all nights, where Markus had never been more obvious about their relationship, to bloody pace himself.

If he could, Connor would be sweating bullets.

“ - a wit SO SHARP!!” Markus declared, foot now planted on his chair and shaking his fist to the ceiling as if it had insulted one of Carl’s paintings, “that neither an UNDEAD HOARD nor a POLITICIAN’S EGO could survive it’s precision strike!!”

“Brown hair, brown eyes, banger body, smarty pants, good at analyzing shit, likes animals” North listed off, holding a hand up and ticking a finger down. “Well that rules out all the Jerrys; they’re all redheads and they’re pretty aggressive about it - except for Jerry #86. Is your man-squeeze Jerry #86?”

“No no no last I heard Jerry #86 is dating Hatsume Miku’s bodyguard; Android Lucy Lawless.” said Simon.

“Tch. Lucky,” pouted North.

“Oh wow, she really kept that name huh?” Josh said, voice faint with wonder and disbelief. “That’s such a mouthful.”

“And who are you to question a Queen!?” snapped North.

“Huzzah and many blessings to the fortuitous couple!” Markus cheered, toasting a stein of frothy blue intoxication that looked as cartoonish as it did poisonous to the sky, knocking it back in several impressive gulps and slamming it back on the table. “BUT NEITHER OF THEM CAN COMPARE TO THE BEAUTY AND GRACE THAT IS MY LOVE!!” he boomed, louder and more British by the second. “WHO’S CURIOSITY AND INTELLECT A CHERISHED BOON TO I, BUT A WEAPON OF MASS DESTRUCTION TO HIS ENEMIES - !”

North slapped her hand on the table several times, the proverbial light bulb lighting up in her eyes - oh. No not proverbial. There was currently little lightbulb emojis pictured in her pupils. Yet another drunken download added to the bill. Connor was glad he’d drawn the long straw on ‘irresponsible buying duty’ tonight. No doubt there would be a lot of strange receipts to sort through in the morning. “Oh! I know I know! It’s Josh!”

So startled by this declaration/accusation, Josh jumped in his seat. “What!?”

“Brown hair, brown eyes, hot, obnoxious, smart - everything FITS!”

“...he didn’t say obnoxious,” Josh muttered, then physically shook sanity back into himself. “It can’t be me. I think I’d know if I was dating Markus!”

Simon leaned in closer towards Josh, arm on the table, determination in his mien. “But what if…” Without breaking eye contact with his friend, he smoothly cracked open his Thirium berry blast bahama mama banana punch wine cooler, and proceeded to pour it just two centimeters off from his glass, all over the table. “You don’t know.”

Josh was shook in the face of this evidence. North narrowed her eyes so hard that they were just closed at this point. “Highly suspicious.”

“No. Nooooo. No? No! Of course I’m not. Right Markus?”

Markus steepled his fingers together and cackled in a way that most people would find concerning, but Connor just found it adorable. He would saving that in his memory banks. “I’ll never tell~,” he sing songed.

“H i g h l y s u s p i c i o u s.”

“I know who it is,” Nines suddenly said, calm but with such confidence that he was easily heard amidst the ruckus. He had his elbows planted on the table, chin resting upon his entwined fingers. Steele grey eyes swept over the now quiet group, everyone waiting with baited breath.

“Grant us your wisdom ‘o soothsayer,” Markus whispered, eyes wide with anticipation and literally perched on the edge of his seat. Connor seriously measured the pros and cons of just throwing his portion of the tab on the table and yeeting himself out of the window.

“It’s Sixty.”

Immediately the room erupted into scoffs and hisses of disbelief. North gave him a thumbs down and cupped her hand to her mouth, letting a long, “Booooo!”

“Why are you booing me I’m right!”

“BoooOOooOOOOOoooooo!” Markus, Josh and Simon joined in.

Connor blinked, and suddenly felt all of his concerns about Nines’ being the lynch pin in solving this mystery evaporate. If Markus transformed into a C grade Shakespeare impersonator when drunk, and Connor subconsciously wanted to be recruited by America’s Got Talent, then Nines became a consummate dumbass.

“That’s it!” North exploded. “Ten dollars says it’s Jerry #92! I caught him in a wig once!” She stood up, her chair sliding back from the force, and slammed a note on the table.

Simon also stood up with equal intensity. “Twenty says it’s Josh!” He reached into his pocket and slammed its contents onto the table. When he removed his hand six lego pieces, a My Little Pony leg, and two actual diamonds were revealed. Connor hoped dearly that the bartender cut Simon off soon.

“It’s not me!” Josh said exasperated. He paused, then pointedly pulled out some money and threw it in the pot as well. “I put forty on Brenden.”

“Bull! Shit!” North declared. “Fitness guru Brenden!? No way!”

“He fits the criteria.”

“I doubt ‘How To Tell If An Android Has Welded on Parts from China vs Russia in their Selfies’ videos on his YouTube channel is the kind analysis Markus was talking about.”

“You don’t know that! He didn’t specify...”

As the two continued to argue, with Simon chiming in with some non sequitur, and Nines tutting about these ‘ignorant fools and their blindness to the evidence presented’, Connor looked over to Markus. He was quiet. He had his elbow perched precariously on the edge of the table, his cheek resting on his fist, a small hat (that was not there literally two minutes ago) was on his head, folded from one of the bar napkins.

And he was looking at Connor as if he hung the moon and stars.

‘How could the world not already know,’ Connor thought, soft and warm inside, happy merely to be in his line of sight, ‘When he looks at me like that?’

Connor picked up his glass and lifted it. “One hundred dollars on Sixty.”

Chaos erupted. Nines threw his arms up and hooted like he’d won the super bowl. Josh tried to explain to him how that was mathematically impossible. North shook her head and warned him that he would live on the streets with an answer like that. Simon pulled out a Yu-Gi-Oh! Card and said he would give him this Charizard if he agreed with him that Josh was Markus’ secret boyfriend. Connor withheld himself from trying to convince drunk people that this was not how betting worked.

Maybe Connor shouldn’t worry so much about their relationship being discovered after all. At this rate, no one would know about he and Markus being together until the wedding invites.

#Detroit Become Human #Markus #Connor #Markus x Connor #RK1K #emiliaf25🌻 #emiliaf25 ask reply #North #Simon #Josh #RK900 #Markus: I bet 200 on Connor! #Simon: Pssh no way #Josh: Markus please don't waste you're money on throw away bets #North: Why don't you just bet on John Cena while you're at it #Nines: If Markus wants to give away money then let him #Connor: >:C #Connor: why do I hang out with you people...

[spaceskam]

retrouvailles

Summary: Kyle and Michael pick Alex up at the airport.

Tags: reunions, post season 2, fluff, POV Kyle Valenti

for @caitlesshea !! happy birthday, I hope you enjoy it!

ao3

“What if I set off a sensor or something?”

Kyle stopped, pulling Michael to a stop with a firm grip on his arm. Michael looked at him with wide eyes as if he didn’t understand why he stopped him.

“Do you have something on you that’ll set off a sensor?” Kyle asked. 

“No, but what if, like, my organs do it?” Michael said. Kyle let go of him and sighed.

“Isobel has been on a plane before and she was fine,” Kyle said, walking through the entrance of the airport, “Besides, I’ve done a lot of tests and as far as I can tell, none of you have any metal that’ll set off metal detectors in your blood. You’re fine.”

“Okay,” Michael said, taking a deep breath before following.

They walked further into the building, Michael trailing him and very clearly uncomfortable. Which. Fair. The only reason Kyle was even here was because Michael was very clearly uncomfortable with this whole thing trip. Kyle was just kind enough to be his friend through it‒and also because Alex asked him to.

Twenty-eight days ago, Alex had to leave for some special secret military thing that he couldn’t talk about for special secret military reasons, but he promised it wasn’t a full deployment. It was just a short, month long trip because he was needed at the US embassy in Qatar. No explanation further than that, but, from Kyle’s research, it didn’t seem to be the worst place to travel, so he tried not to stress. Maybe he was training someone. Or something.

That didn’t stop Michael from being an absolutely hellish person to be around since Alex was gone. They’d apparently just got on good terms, a romantic prelude of sorts, when Alex found out he had to go and politely asked Kyle to keep an eye on Michael. They’d been speaking and Michael was staying sober and busy, but Michael was keeping busy by annoying the shit out of everyone else. Kyle was thankful Michael would have someone else to call at 3AM when he had some sort of scientific breakthrough and needed someone stat. Liz had started turning her phone off, but Kyle felt too guilty to do so.

“How many people a year go missing in airports?” Michael asked as they headed towards the waiting area. They didn’t have to go through any metal detectors to wait out here and so that seemed like the safest place to be, all things considered.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m just saying, I feel like a prime target here. There’s so many fucking cops and military people. How many people do you think go missing from airports that aren’t even reported because they’re just kidnapped by the cops and the military?” Michael asked. Kyle closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Your boyfriend is in the military and your brother is a cop,” Kyle said slowly.

“Yeah, exactly how I know how fucked up it can be. And I’m‒you know. They could have heat sensors on me and know, ” Michael said. Kyle resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He knew Michael was just exaggerating as a way to release actual tension. He was nervous. But Alex was almost here and he was going to take over soon enough.

“It’s fine. Anyone tries to take you and Alex will literally kill them, just relax,” Kyle said. Michael furrowed his eyebrows and frowned like he was annoyed that he wasn’t being indulged which, to Kyle, meant Alex had been doing a great job at talking to him despite the miles between them.

Michael tapped his foot as they sat and watched the screen that displayed projected landing and take off times. Alex’s was on time, thankfully, and he should be landing any minute. Then Kyle wouldn’t have to babysit anymore.

“This is the sixth time Alex has come home and this is the first time I’m here to meet him at the airport,” Michael said. Kyle blinked and looked over at him, almost shocked with the honesty. More than almost. That being said, he kept his mouth shut and listened. “That’s a lot of times, you know?”

“I mean, yeah, but you’re here now. You guys were at a different place then,” Kyle tried. Michael took a deep breath and looked up. “Look, you’re just stressing yourself out because you’re nervous.”

“I don’t think I should’ve come. I don’t think he wants me here.”

“What? How the hell did you draw that conclusion?” Kyle asked, trying not to be too harsh about it. If there was one thing he learned from Michael and Alex, it’s that they were both fucking impossible. “Didn’t he say he wanted you here?”

“No,” Michael said, “He said I could come if I wanted, but no pressure. Sounds like he doesn’t want me here.”

Kyle’s eyes drifted to the monitor and saw Alex’s flight had turned green to announce that it’d landed. He just had to hold Michael out for a few more minutes and then Alex could do whatever Alex did to de-escalate his brain.

“I think he does want you here and he’s just so busy feeling the exact way you’re feeling to tell you that,” Kyle pointed out. Michael shrugged and stared at the screen that displayed all the plane landing times. His hands tightened where they rested over his knees. “Look, Alex is getting better with telling you what he wants, but no one is perfect and no one can heal super fast. He wants you here. It’s been a long time.”

“He’s been gone longer.”

“Yeah, he has. But something tells me this time is a little different,” Kyle said.

That something was Alex himself who Kyle imagined to be spinning around in an office chair as he waxed poetic about how good things were going between them. Better than ever before, namely because they were actually speaking while he was gone and they’d gotten a proper goodbye instead of Alex fleeing into the night while he was asleep. They had spoken about how, when Alex got back, they were going to start dating. They were going to be the annoying couple that is concerningly attached at the hip.

And, honestly, Kyle couldn’t fucking wait.

“What if he’s changed his mind?” Michael wondered.

“Then, knowing Alex, he’ll be honest and tell you to your face.”

Michael, groaning, sunk into the chair even further. Kyle rolled his eyes and reached over to pat him on the shoulder. He knew it was just pent up emotions. Alex would be walking out any moment now and all of his fears would be gone. He almost felt bad that Alex was by himself because he was probably going through the same mini freak out.

One day, hopefully, there wouldn’t be any hesitancy and he’d get to gag freely as they excitedly mauled each other in the middle of an airport. One day.

Time passed slowly as they waited for Alex to appear. Occasionally, Michael would say something off the wall, just to get some sort of reaction or response, and Kyle would entertain him and tug him back to reality. All things considered, this was the same version of him that called people at ridiculous times of day and night, just a little more anxiety-induced (as if that version wasn’t already anxiety-induced). Nothing Kyle couldn’t handle.

Something Alex would probably enjoy handling.

They had lapsed into silence for only a few seconds whenever a throat was cleared behind them. Kyle very casually looked over his shoulder while Michael quickly jumped up and turned to face him as if he’d just been caught doing something he shouldn’t. Kyle almost rolled his eyes, but he was too busy being thankful that Alex was stood there.

He looked tired, but he was in civvies and had his bag already and his hair was starting to grow out a bit again. His eyes were trained on Michael, clearly waiting with baited breath to see what to do now that they were face to face again after a month apart. Kyle would’ve felt like he was intruding if the situation was any different. But they were still figuring it out and they were both a little anxious and they definitely needed some kind of crutch. Kyle was happy to be it.

“Hey,” Kyle said, speaking first.

“Hi,” Alex said, glancing over at Kyle and giving him a nod with a smile before looking back to Michael.

“Hey,” Michael jumped in, his fists clenching and unclenching like he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands before deciding to shove them in his pocket because he had nothing better to do. “Um, how was your flight?”

“Fine. Long. Had a layover in Dallas, lasted too long. Got coffee though,” Alex said, shrugging and smiling at him, “How was the ride here? Where’d you guys park?”

“Not too far,” Michael said quickly, “Waited to get an up close parking spot so you didn’t have to walk too far. I figured it’d be uncomfortable since you’ve had your prosthetic on the whole flight and stuff.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Alex said.

“Good to see you back,” Kyle said to spark more conversation. As soon as they just got a good hug out, they could just go to the car and leave and then Michael could drop them off at Alex’s house and they could do whatever they did in private with Kyle having done his job.

“Yeah, it’s good to be back. I like the work, it’s just challenging enough, but it’s good to be, uh, home, I guess,” Alex told him, though the word sounded a bit unsure as if he had a different word in mind.

“I bet.”

“Hey, um, I watered your plants,” Michael jumped in, still looking a little out of sorts. Alex smiled wider. “None of them died.”

“Thank you,” Alex said sincerely. Michael smiled.

Then they just stood there awkwardly like two teenagers before a dance. Kyle felt like he was supposed to shove them together to take pictures. Instead of doing that, he kicked Michael’s shin and gave him a look whenever Michael turned his head to him with a glare. His jaw clenched and he took a deep breath before looking back at Alex. 

“I missed you,” Michael said slowly as if it was rehearsed and practiced. Kyle had to resist the urge to roll his eyes as he looked away, giving them some semblance of privacy. “Like. A lot.”

“I missed you too,” Alex said, “And I was thinking that maybe we could‒”

And then Alex’s voice was muffled and, when Kyle looked over, they were very occupied with each other’s lips. Kyle huffed a laugh and pushed himself onto his feet and decided saying ‘ finally’ would ruin the mood.

“I’ll wait at the car, don’t stay too long or you might get security called on you,” he told them. Alex pulled out of the kiss long enough to laugh. His hands gripped Michael’s biceps and he squeezed.

“Come on, let’s just go home so we don’t have to stop again,” Alex said. Kyle scrunched up his nose, but he decided not to say anything more.

The drive home was pretty casual. Michael drove (for an alien, he was way too susceptible to car sickness) and Kyle rendered the passenger seat to Alex who shared the stories he could from his time in Qatar. He had developed a software for their embassay’s security a few years prior and they needed some updates as well as training their IT team how to work the updates, he’d said, and it gave him an opportunity to freshen up his Arabic. He’d spent most of his days at a computer.

If Michael and Alex held hands the whole time and bounced back and forth between who’s lap they belonged to, Kyle said nothing.

When they got to Alex’s, Kyle gave him a hug and they promised to go get lunch the next day. Then he gave Michael a nod before taking back the driver’s seat of his own damn car and started heading home, a smile finding his lips as he thought about it. Alex was happy. And not only that, but he and Michael were on good terms. Which was good.

Of course, he’d never admit it, but he kind of liked hanging out and working with the two of them.

It wasn’t until he got home, though, that he realized he had a text.

Michael Guerin: Thanks. You’re not as bad as you could be.

Kyle snorted and dropped his phone on the couch as he headed to the kitchen.

He was so glad Alex was back.

#malex #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #kyle valenti #roswell new mexico #my fic #HAPPY BIRTHDAYYYYY

[imgoingtohellsofuckit]

Baby Reid

Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary - Reader finds out she’s pregnant and has to tell Spencer. 

Warning - pregnancy

word count - 3.8k

I’ve been binge watching Criminal Minds and reading hella Spencer fics and I’ve been loving Dad Spencer so here ya go.

"Pregnant?" Y/n looks at the doctor in slight horror. The doctor nods.

"Seems so Miss L/n," The doctor says smiling lightly, "congratulations."

Y/n's eyes drift over to her sister.

"Yeah congrats," Her sister says softly. A light smirk covering her expression.

"How far along?" Y/n asks the doctor.

"8 weeks," The doctor shares, "it's not uncommon to find out around the 4-12 week mark. We recommend doing an ultrasound today. Just to make sure that everything is alright. Is that okay?"

"Sure," Y/n says softly. The doctor nods moving the machine towards the girl. Prepping her for the ultrasound. Y/n's sister takes the girl's hand gently. Trying to offer some sort of support.

"There is the little guy," The doctor says, "and that's the heartbeat."

The faces remain tense. The doctor sighs lightly.

"I can get the ultrasound pictures for you- I'll be right back," They tell the pair of girls before heading out. The second they leave the room Y/n's sister starts.

"Holy crap you're pregnant!"

"Kate shut the hell up," Y/n says harshly, "God you're such a bitch sometimes."

"I mean I'm right," Kate says chuckling lightly, "well how do you feel?"

"Terrified," Y/n sighs.

"How are you gonna tell him?"

"No clue yet," Y/n says softly, "he's supposed to be flying back tonight too. They finished their case earlier than they thought they would..." She fidgets with the edge of her jacket. "What am I even going to tell him?"

"'Hey Spencer turns out you knocked me up,'" Kate says chuckling lightly, "pretty boy couldn't keep his hands to himself. You think with all those FBI cases he'd be too busy to rail you huh?" Y/n rolls her eyes harshly. "Did you at least enjoy your last time with him before you split from hole to hole?"

"Are you really going there?" Y/n asks harshly.

"Always," She says smirking lightly. Y/n scoffs. "Are you okay?"

"Nervous," Y/n says moving her hand over her stomach, "I don't know how I'm going to speak to him about this ya know? We never really had that are we gonna have kids talk? Figured it was after we finished talking about the marriage thing."

"Which you still aren't done with huh?"

"Clearly not Kate considering we haven't gotten anywhere with that," Y/n huffs, "I mean we want to get married- that's as far as we got with looking into our future. I mean he's so busy. He's doing so much with his job right now that planning a wedding in all that is kind of a nightmare ya know." Kate nods lightly. "I mean we've been talking about getting engaged for like almost 8 months now and we haven't even started looking into the whole wedding part of the thing." Y/n looks to her sister at once. "If he can't even stay home long enough to talk to me about the wedding I highly doubt he'll have enough time to worry about a baby-"

"What about that Hotch guy? His boss he has a kid right?"

"Yeah- a kid he never sees and an ex-wife," Y/n says harshly. Kate raises a brow.

"Okay put Spencer isn't Hotch," Kate points out, "he's Spencer. He's different - In a good way. Obviously right."  Y/n's eyes fall to the ground. "He's Spencer he's not going to leave you. You two are joined at the hip."

"How do you talk to people about this stuff?" Y/n asks, "I mean how do you tell someone you've given them 18 years minimum of responsibility-"

"No not you've given him- it takes two," Kate starts at once, "and I'm sure he was all about it."

"You're disgusting."

"But?"

"Of course he's all about it," Y/n says smirking lightly. But it drops immediately. "That's not the point. Jesus, Kate -"

The door opening ends the conversation. The doctor hands over an envelope. "There are the ultrasound pictures and video. We recommend setting up a follow-up appointment at 12 weeks. There is a pamphlet in there that goes other recommended appointments and other tips like foods to avoid all the basics with pregnancy." Y/n nods. "You should be set to go."

The sisters use this to finally leave the hospital. When they reach Kate's car Y/n opens up the envelope to look over the ultrasound photos.

"That's inside of me?" Y/n asks.

"That's what she said-"

"Kate," She says harshly. The sister laughs loudly.

"Fine fine I'll stop," Kate says as she leans over to look at the pictures, "wow it's so small. Kind of blobby looking- I guess it takes time before they get cute huh?" Y/n gives her sister a harsh glance. "Maybe put the pictures in a card? Give him that."

"Yeah, I'm sure that'll go over great," Y/n says. She groans slightly. "What am I gonna do?"

~

"How's your fiancé?"

Spencer looks up from his book to meet the pressing eyes of JJ. She's not trying to push in any regard rather she's just curious. Wondering how the couple was doing with everything. The job is high stress and JJ knows how much that can weigh on the partners.

"Oh Y/n she's alright," Spencer tells his friend, "she hasn't been feeling great the last couple of days. She thinks flu- her symptoms match enough that it could make sense however there hasn't exactly been a fever. But she won't let me close enough to know. She says I get overbearing when she's sick- that I'm not exactly helpful."

"What? No way," Morgan says chuckling lightly looking up from his own book to join the conversation, "I don't believe that."

Spencer smiles lightly. JJ chuckles.

"I can understand what she means," JJ says brightly, "don't take what she said to heart. You know how girls get when they aren't feeling well-"

"Except I don't," Spencer says, "I only really have experience with Y/n I mean before her I never lived with a girl that wasn't related to me."

"Still you know enough from her and the girls here," Morgan says, "I think you've picked up on enough." Spencer disagrees but he doesn't argue. He's a little too busy in his own head to care about Morgan's remarks. He's worried about his girlfriend. He wants to be there for her- even if she wouldn't actually let him near her.

"You alright Spence?" JJ asks.

"I'm fine just worried about Y/n," Spencer admits, "If it's not the flu it could be something else- and she hates the hospital so she's not exactly trying to go to do anything about it. Despite how many facts I give her about how dangerous the flu could actually be." Spencer rambles on. Morgan and JJ exchange an amused look. "That's why she doesn't want me around when she's sick huh?"

"I'd imagine," JJ says.

"You stress her out," Morgan says, "in a time you don't need to stress her out."

"He's wording it harshly," JJ tells Spencer, "you just make it a little bit harder for her when she's already going through it. Don't worry plenty of people do that. It's just cause you are worried about her." JJ gives Spencer a soft smile. Trying to show some support.

"Her sister was supposed to take her to the hospital," Spencer tells them, "but knowing Kate I'm sure that they never actually went."

"Y/n doesn't like hospitals?"

"Not since her dad died," Spencer shares, "it's not the hospital itself but what it represents. It's common for people who lose parents in adolescence to have mild phobias of places like hospitals or police stations." They nod along. Spencer sighs.  "She made that face the first time I told her too. Her words were 'thank you for mansplaining my trauma Spence'." Morgan chuckles lightly.

"Yeah, I can imagine," Emily says, "I don't think anyone would exactly love that."

"Normally my rambling doesn't bother her it was just that time really," Spencer goes on, "her sister hates hospitals as well so I don't know why I let her talk me into letting Kate take her to the hospital."

"Because she's pretty and your whipped," Emily says with a big smirk.

"She's got you there," Morgan says. Spencer chuckles lightly.

He smiles lightly as he looks over to his phone.

"That her?" JJ asks. He moves flipping it open.

"Yeah, she wants to know if she should pick me up or if I'm taking the train," Spencer tells them.

"Anything about the hospital?"

"She didn't say anything about it," Spencer tells them, "how long until we land?"

"2 minutes," Hotch chimes in, "Reid you should make her go to the hospital if she hasn't yet. It could be more than just the flu. You know that."

"I know," Spencer says, "If she hasn't gone today I'll take her for sure." Hotch gives him a careful nod. They start gathering their things. Prepping for the landing.

The second Reid collects his things from the office he meets his fiancé at her car.

"You didn't have to pick me up," Spence says as he and his coworkers file out. His fiancé is leaning against the hood of her car smiling lightly at the man. "You should be in bed resting."

"I got my second wind," Y/n says simply.

"Go to the hospital like a normal person," Garcia says teasing the girl. Y/n chuckles.

"Kate took me to the hospital," Y/n informs the others, "it's just a minor bug. Don't let Spencer get you all worried." JJ exchanges a quick look with Garcia. It goes mostly unnoticed as the others watch as Spencer takes his partner's hand. He pecks her cheek. Making sure not to be too close or too touchy in front of the others. Y/n smiles at her partner. Moving to tuck a piece of his hair behind his ear. "I'm fine Spence."

"Look at how in love they are," Emily teases, "it's disgusting."

"Loverman," Morgan teases.

"Classy," Spencer says, "if you guys are done harassing me and my girlfriend I'll see you guys tomorrow."

"Bye Guys it was nice to see you again," Y/n says brightly. Hiding her nerves slightly. As they climb into the car she looks over to her partner. Her mood ever so slightly dropping. If Reid wasn't a profiler he wouldn't have picked up on it. However, in his line of work, he was able to read people like a book- even if he missed slight social cues.

"You alright?" He asks. Y/n keeps her eyes focused on the road. "Did I do something?"

"Spence you didn't do anything," She says softly, "I'm fine. Just a little stressed babe." His eyes don't move off of the girl. He's watching her so intently. Clearly using his work skills in an attempt to read the girl. "Stop profiling me, Spencer."

"I'm sorry," He says apologetically. She chuckles lightly. Moving to pull his hand into hers. Pecking it lightly.

"Spencer my love you didn't do anything," She says sweetly, "I'm simply working through some things. We all have our moments."

"We should work through things together," Spencer starts, "We're a couple."

"I'm aware we're a couple, Spencer," She says giving him a quick glance, "I know we should work through stuff together but you know sometimes we have things we aren't ready to talk about yet." He looks over nervously. "You didn't do anything... What do you think you did?"

"I don't know what I did," He says honestly, "I just didn't know if I said something wrong or did something wrong."

"No, you didn't do anything," Y/n assures him, "listen I've just been thinking today... Do you still want to get married?"

"Yes of course," He says, "I know we've had a problem planning everything but I still want to get married. Do you?"

"I want to get married," She says.

He nods.

"So what got you thinking about it?" He asks, "I mean you don't typically get worried about this stuff."

"I've been thinking a lot about the future-"

"Uh oh."

"It's nothing to be worried about Spencer," She says as she tries to focus her eyes on the road. "I'm just trying to think about things you know. You're in the FBI, you work a lot and I stay behind a lot. It works out fine now- but that kinda stress ruins relationships."

"What are you talking about?"

"50% of marriages end in divorce Spencer," She goes on, "do you ever think about that? I mean we both come from broken homes. Is there a point in all this?"

"What are you saying?" Spencer asks. Clear distress in his voice. "are you trying to break up with me?"

"NO no!" She exclaims, "I'm not trying to break up with you actually the complete opposite. I'm just being cynical because I'm scared."

"You aren't making any sense," Spencer says softly.

"I don't know how to say it, Spence," She says quietly. She sighs. Thankful to see their apartment. "Maybe we should have this conversation inside."

"Are we fighting?"

"We aren't fighting Spencer," She says as she climbs from the car, "come on."

"Seems like we are about to fight," Spencer says under his breath. She sighs taking his hand. Leading him through the hallway to get to their apartment. Once inside she moves into Spencer's arms. Helping him shove off his bag. "Woah that was a dramatic shift-"

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you," She says as she cups his cheek. He seems very clearly confused. "Don't twist my words. That's not me confessing to trying to run away or anything. Okay?" He nods lightly. "How was your day?"

"You're deflecting- how bad was the hospital?" Spencer starts. Worry filling his expression. "Are you okay?" She chuckles lightly.  "Why are you laughing?"

"Spencer, what are you thinking?"

"Somethings wrong- you're sick," He starts, "are you?"

"No," She says simply. She pulls her hands away from him. "I started thinking about our future today- because when I went to the hospital they realized my symptoms aren't flu. They ran a bunch of tests. Trying to figure it out." His face is coated in worry.

"Y/n?"

"Have you ever thought about having kids?" She asks. His eyes scan every inch of her face.

"No, not really," He admits, "why-" His eyes widen. "Are you?"

"Spencer I'm pregnant," She says softly. He seems scared. She moves to cup his cheeks. He looks like he's gonna pass out. He pulls back. Moving to sit on the couch. He's just staring past her. A whirlwind of emotions across his face.  "I'm pregnant... Spencer say something." He doesn't. He looks up at her. "Spencer how dare this be the time you are speechless."

"How-how far along?"

"8 weeks," She tells him.

"I'm gonna be a dad," He says softly. He meets her eyes. A slight smile across his face. "I'm gonna be a dad."

"Yeah," She chuckles. He moves to wrap his arms around her. Holding on carefully. As he pulls back he moves his hand down onto her stomach. As if he could already feel the baby. "We are gonna be parents." He chuckles. A big smile across their faces. "Is that okay?"

"Yes that's okay," He says brightly, "more than okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," He says brightly.

She moves pulling the envelope from her purse. Handing the pictures over to Spencer. He looks over them brightly.

"Cool right?" She asks.

"Yeah- you know the ultrasound is actually sound waves the frequencies are higher than the upper audible limit of human hearing," Spencer starts, "Ultrasounds in this form is actually called acoustic microscopy-" He stops as he meets her eyes. "We're gonna have a baby."

"Kate says that we'll have really cute kids," She says as he looks back down to the pictures, "she wants them to have your eyes."

"Why?"

"She likes your eyes more than mine apparently," She shrugs, "I think the baby will be cute either way." He nods lightly. She moves beside him to look at the picture. "it's so little."

"Rough weights .04 ounces and measures about .63 inches," Spencer says, "about the size of a raspberry."

"A raspberry?" She says as she moves her hand down to her stomach. "That's so small. Kind of hard to believe." He chuckles. "Can I see your hand?" He nods. She moves to place his hand on her stomach. "When they did the ultrasound the baby was right here- I know we can't feel anything but-" He nods lightly. "Spencer?"

"Yeah baby?"

"Are you really happy about this?"

"Yes I'm actually happy about this- I mean I'm nervous sure terrified even but I'm happy," Spencer assures her, "am I not supposed to be?"

"No no that's not what I meant- I mean I was so scared to tell you I didn't want you to feel trapped or that I ruined your life-"

"Ruined my life?" Spencer asks, "you've made my life a hundred times better- and sure this wasn't planned but it doesn't mean I'm not excited... It brings up practical problems like we don't have the space here- so we'll have to look at new place. Child care when we both are working. Do we want to look at nannies or daycares? But I figured we could worry about the questions later. That now we should just be excited." She smiles lightly. "I don't feel trapped either- I mean kids is a natural progression of things and we've mentioned wanting them before."

"Yeah but out of nowhere like this it can make you feel a little trapped-"

"Around 9 out of 100 women would become pregnant in a year of taking the pill- it's only 91% effective," Spencer starts, "in general unplanned pregnancies' are fairly common in long term relationships where the women is on the pill. We knew it was possible."

"Possible and it happening are two separate things-"

"You were nervous so you created reasons on why I'd be upset," Spencer says, "you wanted me to be upset."

"No- Spencer stop profiling me," She says at once.

"It's not profiling," Spencer says, "I'm not mad- or upset. I'm happy. Stop trying to make that a bad thing."

"I'm not making it a bad things," She sighs, "I was just worried you'd be upset. I'm glad you aren't. Makes me feel a whole lot better." He nods. Moving to take his fiancés hands "This will be a fun change from looking at wedding things... Now we get to look at a new place... House or another apartment?"

"I enjoy apartment life but space wise it would make more sense to look at houses," Spencer says. Y/n nods clearly satisfied with that answer. She smiles as she drags her partner towards the couch. "You eat yet?"

"No not yet wanna order something?"

"Sure," Spencer says as he grabs his phone to dial one of the takeout places. "Got a preference?"

"No I'm sure you can pick for us," She says as she grabs her laptop, "3 bedroom?"

"3?"

"Office space maybe," She starts, "library space? Huge walk in closet- you could have a nice tie wall." Spencer chuckles loudly. "Extra space in general pretty boy." He chuckles. "I think I found a place- look at this cute huh?"

"You're getting a little ahead of yourself-"

"Always Dr. Reid," She says brightly. He smiles. "I hope the baby has your smile."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah you have a cute smile."

"You have a cute smile too," Spencer says as he moves his arm around his wife, "Thai sound good?"

"Thai sound great," She says, "and thanks love." He moves reciting their order like he's done hundreds of times. She moves looking through the houses.

Despite all her original fears. It went right. Spencer was happy to hear about a baby. Excited even. It was working out for her.

"Thanks," Spencer says, "40 minutes."

"We should hold off on telling anyone until I tell my mom," She says, "and we should plan to go see yours." Spencer tenses lightly. "I think she should hear this in person."

"Alright I'll look at weekends I can take off," Spencer starts, "we can fly out then."

"In the meantime I need you to keep this on the down low," Y/n tells him, "don't go sharing this around. I don't need the entire FBI to know before I even get to tell my mom." He nods lightly. "But I know they are your family- so you can tell them after Friday. That good enough for you?"

"Perfect with me," Spencer says.

She smiles pulling him into a quick kiss. She knew they would be fine.

Bonus

The next day Spencer could hardly keep the dopey smile off of his face. Everyone knew something was going on. They weren't trying to press too much. But ultimately Spencer let it out on his own.

"What is Reid over there reading?" JJ asks as she leans closer to Emily. The girls try looking over the desk to see the man holding his book. Clearly trying to be discreet. He placed the book on his desk hoping to cover the book's title.

"Here is the best way to find out," Emily says standing from her desk. She moves pulling the book from his hand.

"Hey give that back!" Spencer exclaims.

"'What to expect when you're expecting a guide for new parents' You're having a baby!"

"What?!" JJ exclaims rushing towards them, "you and Y/n are expecting! Oh, that's amazing!"

"We haven't told anyone yet so keep it quiet-"

"Why are you three screaming?" Morgan asks as he and Garcia gather, "it's way too early for that."

"Reid's gonna be a dad," Emily says with a smirk.

"You knocked her up!" Garcia exclaims, "awe genius babies!"

"My man I didn't think you had it in you," Morgan says with a cocky smirk, "nice one Pretty boy."

"We were supposed to be keeping it quiet," Spencer says clearly getting annoyed with the others. He reaches to grab the book from Emily. However, she yanks it back. "Well so much for waiting til friday- any chance we can at least keep this from Hotch and Rossi? Make it seem like I tried not to get it out."

"What are you hiding from us?" Hotch asks firmly. He and Rossi were walking down from their offices.

"Baby Reid is own it's way," Garcia announces.

"Or let's tell Hotch and Rossi," Spencer says, "why listen to me huh?"

"Sorry Reid," Garcia says, "it's just too exciting! A baby!"

"Congratulations Reid," Hotch says, "how far along is she?"

"8 months," Spencer tells them, "she just found out yesterday."

"Solved the mystery illness," Rossi says.

"Yeah," Spencer says, "like I was telling them Y/n and I were trying to keep it under wraps because she hasn't told her mom yet- Then Prentiss and JJ decided they needed to know what I was reading-"

"You were being suspicious Reid," Emily says in her own defense, "And I was curious." Reid rolls his eyes. "You know the gender yet?"

"I'm done talking about this," Reid says as he yanks the book away from Emily, "I've got reports to work on."

"He's right everyone should get back to work," Hotch says forcefully. Spencer sighs as he looks back to his book. He slips something from the page he left off on. The ultrasound picture. He smiles lightly.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid criminal minds #dad spencer reid

[winterscaptain]

constellations.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: as usual, an ajf fic that requires very little context. i’m so sorry this took so long!! i was busy thinking about how to quit my job this week and then KIRA CAME TO VISIT ME (we’re being safe and covid-conscious!) so this took a couple of days longer than expected. also - i see your beautiful messages! i will keep chipping away at them :)

you can expect the route 66 fic on tuesday at 11pm pdt!

words: 4.4k warnings: canon-typical discussions of violence, some mention of canon-typical sexual assault, language

summary: as hotch recovers from the explosion in new york, you find yourself more concerned than you expected. (au!2008)

masterlist | a joyful future master list | requests closed!

“The Angel Maker. I remember the case.” 

It’s a fairly normal start to the week, with a case packed and ready for you at 10am. Aaron was out of the field for a week or so with his injuries, but his presence at the round table and the go bag you spotted beside his desk this morning warms you. 

He’s back. Not completely, but that’s better than not at all. 

“They caught that guy.” Reid’s flipping through the case file, but you know he’s got one ear open. 

Rossi’s on the same page, and finishes Reid’s thought. “And executed him.” 

“That’s right,” JJ says. “He was put to death by lethal injection a year ago yesterday.” 

You release a little breath you were holding. “Yesterday?”

That’s a clear enough trigger for a fanatic. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen something like this, either with your tenure at the BAU or in previous case studies at the academy. It was always a little shocking - the lengths people go to complete the work of the devil they romanticize...

Derek throws a finger at you as if to say Exactly. “So we’re looking for a copycat.” 

“Honoring the anniversary of his hero’s death.” Dave sits back in his chair, almost satisfied. You smile a little. 

The confidence of a seasoned profiler. 

Aaron catches your smile, and his lips pull just the barest amount. You shake your head, suppressing a wider grin. 

Funny, isn’t it?

His brows tug. What?

It’s so...normal. And so predictable. You sit back, peering at Aaron over your copy of the file. He huffs (you recognize it as a laugh, though the rest of his face remains exactly the same) and turns his attention toward Reid, who’s still flipping through the file. 

“It says here they found semen at the crime scene. Perhaps locals will get a DNA match through VICAP?” When you follow Aaron’s gaze to Spencer, you’re not surprised to see him already absorbed in the latter half of the report. 

“See, that’s where things get weird.” Her face screws up. “They already ran it, and got a match.” She throws the file toward you, and you open it. 

“If they already have a name, why’d they call us?” Emily’s confusion is swallowed up in your own. 

“You’ve got to be kidding.” You look over at Hotch, who takes the file from your hands. “The match they got back on the DNA is to Courtland Bryce Ryan -” 

Hotch lets out a sharp huff. “The Angel Maker.” You meet his gaze again. 

This is going to be a weird one. 

“Wheels up in thirty.” 

+++

You lean against the back of Hotch’s chair, peering over his shoulder as ideas bounce around the cabin. He’s focused on Reid along with the rest of you as the younger agent spins a theory. 

Derek’s the first one to question his particularly amusing line of thought. “Reid, you’re not seriously floating the idea of an evil twin, are you?”

“No. I’m floating the idea of an eviler twin.” Reid looks dead serious, and Hotch glances up at you. You shake your head a little, and he shrugs before restoring his attention. “Traditionally the concept is good twin and an evil twin. But in this case, it’s evil twin, eviler twin.” 

You swallow a laugh as both Derek and Emily look at him like he’s grown three extra heads all at once. 

Before any of you can say anything, Aaron’s hand rises to his forehead and his face scrunches up in pain. You place a hand on his shoulder from over the seat, patting him for his attention. “Hotch?” 

He hums something that sounds like, “Yeah?”

“Are you cleared to fly?”

He sucks in a breath to cover a wince, and you take that as a no. 

You sink your hands into his hair as he tips his head back against the seat with his eyes closed. The tips of your fingers find the little pressure points around his head, and you lean forward, keeping your voice soft. “Does that help?”

He nods, just a little, and you’re satisfied. You look at Derek over Hotch’s head, and he looks just as concerned as you feel. 

+++

“I give you a legacy. A breath of life from the Angel Maker himself. Those who prayed to forget me will one day see my face and shrink in fear.” Reid recites aloud from the letter, and you listen with your head propped on your hand. 

The sheriff sighs and crosses his arms. “That’s the last thing people need right now.” 

“Reid, how does that compare with the original correspondence?” Derek ignores the sheriff, redirecting his attention to the letter and the genius holding it. 

You jump on Derek’s line of thinking. “It can’t be authentic, can it?” You drop your hand from your chin and lean toward Spencer, feeling Aaron hover over your shoulder. 

“They share some compelling characteristics. I’d obviously like to look at it under a magnification under a better light…”

Obviously.

Hotch’s voice almost startles you, right by your ear. “Best guess, Reid?”

“I’d say it’s authentic.” Rather than looking at Hotch, he looks at you. Your furrowed brow speaks for everyone present. 

“How can it be authentic if the guy’s been dead for over a year?” Looking over at Hotch, you hope he has something better than paranormal speculation. 

He doesn’t disappoint. “It could be an elaborate forgery.” 

“Or,” Reid adds, “it could be a genuine article, just written before his death.” 

You hum. “That's my favorite of the theories so far.” 

The sheriff shakes his head, coming up on your other side. It’s almost comical the way you’re all crowded around the letter. “Mail here isn’t that slow.” 

Derek’s the only one who hasn’t joined you. He’s still happily posted up at the desk, leaning against it with his arms crossed. You glance at him before offering, “Could have been released through an intermediary.”

“You mean the copycat?” Reid asks. 

Nodding, you suggest, “He could be buried in those visitor logs - we’re checking them out now to see who visited Ryan and how often.” 

Derek finally joins you. “That’ll narrow the suspect pool.”

Hotch flinches again and his fingers press to his brow as the front door opens, allowing the rush of a truck to sound through the room. 

“Hotch?”

He waves you off. “I’m fine.” 

Liar. 

There’s nothing you can do. 

+++

You’re with Derek in one of the interrogation rooms, going through letter upon letter from Ryan’s time in prison. “What happens if Hotch actually loses his hearing?” You can’t help the overwhelming notes of concern coloring your voice. “I mean, what are we going to say to Strauss? ‘Excuse me ma’am, if our unit chief goes deaf because he won’t fucking slow down, can he still be our unit chief?’ I mean - “

You shut your mouth as Hotch walks into the room. Shame floods through you. It was more than unkind to talk about him behind his back as it was, and here you were - broadcasting your worst fears about his condition to one of your closest mutual friends. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean -” 

Aaron once again waves you off. “It’s alright.” He comes to rest beside you, and you reach for his arm in apology. 

“How are you feeling?”

He shakes his head, and Derek leaves the two of you alone, closing the door behind him. Hotch looks over his shoulder, satisfied that you’re on your own. 

“Dizzy. Nauseated. Tired.” It’s like a checklist - matter-of-fact and without bias. 

You take stock of him. The cuts on his face are healing nicely, and the bruise on his cheek is fading. The bags under his eyes, though, betray the lack of sleep. “What can I do?”

He shakes his head with something that isn’t a smile if you don’t know him. “Nothing. Just keep doing good work.” 

“I’m sorry,” you blurt. “I didn’t mean to be insensitive earlier.” 

“I know.” 

“I’m just worried, is all.” Your voice tapers off at the end of your thought, just a little embarrassed. 

A little breath leaves his nose, and you know it’s sort of a laugh. “I know.” He presses a hand to your shoulder for a moment before diving into one of the boxes himself.

+++

Hotch walks quickly, and you keep up as best you can as he informs the sheriff, “I have to advise against this.” 

“All due respect, this isn’t your town. I have to convince them that Courtland Ryan is dead and buried.” 

Hotch glances back at you, and you shrug. 

Small towns. Serial killers. What are you gonna do?

The cemetery is relatively quiet, the sleepy town waiting for something to happen with bated breath. It’s not like anyone would be taking late-night walks anytime soon. 

His head tips, and you know he agrees. Nevertheless, he turns back toward the sheriff. “You’re indulging the killer by perpetuating the ruse he’s created.” 

Nice. Five dollar words for the two-bit sheriff. 

“He’s right. It may embolden him. Prompt more murders.” Emily says, watching the proceedings with a discerning eye. You can only agree. 

The sheriff shakes his head. “Celia lost her only daughter to that murdering bastard. We met when I was working the case and had gotten close. I thought we were past all this, but...I guess I was kidding myself.” 

The crane starts up, and there’s a sinking feeling that you’ve forgotten about something as the chains tighten and begin to lift the coffin. All at once, you remember and turn as Hotch steps away, his hand over his ear and the other pressed against his brow again. 

You hover beside him, not sure what to do. Pressing your hands to his forearms, you do your best to shield him from some of the sound with your body. 

He makes a weak attempt to wave you off, but his voice startles you. It’s so small as he insists, “I’m alright. I’m fine. Just -”

“Hotch -”

“I’m okay I’m okay I’m okay. Yeah.” 

You don’t believe him for a second, but as the noise decreases, so does his agony. He removes his hands from his ears for a moment. He’s blinking rapidly, looking simultaneously dazed and far too aware. 

“Aaron…”

He shakes his head. “Don’t. I’m fine. I’m okay.” 

Your lips press into a thin line and you remove your hands from his arms. “Take it easy. I can’t make your life hell if you can’t hear me, alright?”

Your teasing has the intended effect, and he levels you with his signature glare that’s only halfway playful. 

+++

“The victim is Maxine Chandler. The neighbors say she’s lived here her whole life. All twenty-eight years of it.” 

The house is infused with the presence of children - play structures, toys, the whole nine. Aaron voices your thoughts. “How many kids does she have?” 

“None of her own. She runs a daycare. The guy who called 911 came here to drop off his toddler and found Maxine in her bedroom.”

That’s an eventful morning. 

“Well,” you note, “now that we have more than one victim, we can compare victimology.” 

Hotch nods, and you meet his eyes for a moment. “Different data points should help us significantly narrow the profile.” 

“I’ll get JJ to bring us the files on the first victim.” Morgan says, his phone already in his hand. 

“What did you find?” 

The coroner runs you through his findings, and they’re not much different from the first murder, but there is one notable difference. 

“Nine puncture wounds,” Emily notes, her dark eyes roaming over the body. 

You’re close to Hotch, watching them bounce off each other. It’s always inspiring to watch them. As close as you and Aaron are, you were deeply impressed but his professional relationship with Emily. There’s part of you that chalks it up to your age - they are only two years apart. They form their own little age bracket on the team while you, JJ, and Spencer make up the younger strata. 

More often than not, the three of you were able to keep up with each other just like Emily and Aaron. 

“Can I have your pen?” Emily asks.

“Yeah.” Hotch pulls the pen from his inside pocket, handing it over into her eager hands. “What is it?” 

You wait as she doodles something into her notepad before her head whips up. “She did this.” 

“What do you mean?” You’re not following, and you can tell Hotch isn’t either. 

“The unsub. She made this before she made the puncture wounds.” 

Hotch tips his chin, understanding. “That’s why the coroner found paper in the wounds.” 

“It was a template. The Angel Maker did it from memory, but she needed a guide to get it right.” 

You pull your phone out, already dialing Reid as Hotch says. “We need to go back and re-examine each of the patterns. Where’s Reid?” 

“Spence. Hey. We have something for you.” You pass the phone and a little smile to Hotch, who takes both with a grateful look. 

Emily watches the exchange, feeling suddenly like an outsider - almost an intruder. There’s something between you two, always has been, but this moment is such a clean-cut outline of it. You’re constantly anticipating the needs of the other, ready with a warmth and fondness at a moment’s notice. 

She sees it again when he presses your phone back into your waiting hand. You take it and brush past him as he turns over his shoulder to follow you out the door. It almost looks choreographed. In fairness, you’d both done it what feels like thousands of times before. 

When you pause in the living room, both turning at the same time when Derek calls for Hotch, a shadow of a thought crosses her mind. It’s gone before it’s truly there, and she lets it go. 

+++

Reid’s finally cracked it, and you’re all crowded around him again as he explains what he’s found. He profiled the author, figured out the cypher used by the Aryan Brotherhood, and generally made use of his insane brain. The patterns themselves are constellations, woven into every aspect of their relationship. 

You find a smile breaking out over your face as you listen to Spencer spin. Hotch leans over and whispers, “He hasn’t let loose in a while, has he?” You’re standing on his left, of course, just in case. 

Shaking your head, you laugh a little. Emily’s looking at Spencer like he’s from another planet. She pokes him and voices the thought you’ve all had at least once. “He’s so lifelike.”

Her comment gets a laugh out of you and a smile out of Aaron. You’re warmed by it. 

+++

You clear and search Chloe Kelcher’s house, staying firmly attached to Aaron’s seven o’clock position, right off his left shoulder. 

“Alright. We all know what the endgame is. She’s looking for her final victim. She may have already chosen one.” Hotch looks around, suggesting assignments with the flicker of his eyes around the house. “Let’s tear this place apart, look for anything that might tell us who she’s targeted.”

You follow Hotch and Derek into the nursery, noting the stars on the ceiling. The crib captures your attention - the carefully placed onesie indicating the pain of a woman in denial. Your brow crumples, and Aaron steps up beside you, nudging a couple of stuffed animals out of the way as a cursory search. 

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just...thinking.” The trigger is as clear as a neon sign, and you’re sure much saner people would break down like this at the loss of a child. There’s a silent prompting as he stands beside you, waiting for you to elaborate. “I dunno. I can just see how someone close to reasonable would be in bad enough shape after something like this, not to mention someone as unstable as our unsub.” 

He sighs. “It must have devastated her to think that she could hold on to Ryan by having his child and then lose the baby.” 

Derek hums from across the room, joining the conversation. “Completing his murders became the only way she could hold onto him.”

Something strikes Aaron then - something intangible. He turns and opens the trunk in the corner of the room. Its contents pull your upper lip up in disgust.

With a dubious pair of eyebrows, Aaron notes, “Not the only way.” 

“Guess that answers that.” 

+++

You reach the final victim’s house, and you can only hope you’ve made it in time. Hotch immediately assumes authority, leading collaboration between the BAU and local law enforcement. He assigns Derek to find an opening into the house, while he directs the sheriff to bring all the cars to the front, no lights. 

He finds a megaphone for Emily, and you take your place at his left side, crouched to take the low firing point through the car’s open window. 

“Hit the lights,” he directs, and they do. 

All at once, it’s bright - nearly daylight. Emily starts talking, and you’re singularly focused on the front of the house. The windows, the door, and the curtains are all within your purview. You glance up at Hotch, who glances down at you. He unholsters his weapon, and you bump his hip with your elbow and return your attention to the front of the house

“Go into the pouch next to my extra magazines.” 

You can sense rather than see his frown. 

“Just trust me. Open it.” 

His left hand finds your belt while he continues to scan the area, unclipping the pouch without looking. You hear a huff of laughter as he finds what you left for him. 

“Put one in your right ear and don’t argue with me.” Your voice is still low, but you dropped into the tone you learned from him, only half-joking. 

He rolls his eyes and stuffs the foam earplug in his bad ear before unholstering his weapon. 

“Door,” you warn as the front screen opens.  

“Chloe. Drop the gun.” Aaron’s voice is heavy with authority, and the sheriff backs him up. 

The world slows down when she raises the gun toward you all, and the sheriff fires. Despite the earplug, Aaron immediately collapses, dropping his service weapon at your feet and covering his ears with his hands. You holster your weapon and turn toward him on sheer instinct. 

You retrieve the gun, checking the safety and slipping it into your waistband. When you return your attention to him, he’s almost folded completely into himself, pained groans leaving him. Rossi beat you to him, half-holding him up, but he shifts Aaron to you when you reach them both. 

“Aaron.” You wrap him in your arms and he takes some of his weight as his feet get back under him. He leans into you, and you do your best to support him. “Hotch, are you okay?”

He reaches out, finding your arm and gripping tight. You stay steady, almost in tears. It’s agonizing to see him in pain. 

“I’m okay. I’m okay.”

Liar.

+++

The next day, it’s decided he’ll drive one of the cars home, instead of taking the plane. 

You laugh as Derek throws the keys at Spencer. Hotch steps up beside you, throwing his go bag in one of the cars. Going out on a bit of a limb, you ask, “Want any company?” You keep your voice low, just in case anyone’s listening. 

First of all, you don’t want to out yourself in front of your colleagues - they all know how much you care about him and you don’t want them getting any ideas. Second of all, you know how Hotch gets when he’s alone too long. 

He raises his eyebrows for a second, but Dave interrupts his thought before he can share it with you. “Why don’t you two drive together? It’ll be a better trip with some company and you can’t stand the rest of us for more than three hours at a time.” 

Hotch snorts. “Fine.” He looks over at you and you shrug and throw your go bag in the backseat with his. 

“I’m good with that. What are you thinkin’? Straight through, or are we taking a the scenic route?”

Dave pipes in again. “I think a couple of days could do you both some good. It’s been a long few weeks.” 

You and Hotch look at each other. You look back at Dave. “Good idea. See you Tuesday?”

He nods and joins the rest of the team in the other car, slipping into the passenger seat. 

+++

The car is quiet for the first half hour or so. You’re driving - it’s the only way Aaron can hear you in the car, so you’ll probably nap or post up in the backseat when it’s his turn to take the wheel. 

You glance over at him before you hit the state line. “You’re thinking very loudly over there.” 

A smile pulls at his lips. The heel of his hand supports his cheekbone as his elbow rests on the window ledge. “Am I?”

“Mhmm.” 

He shrugs a little. “It’s weird not driving.” 

“Ah. So that’s why you’ve been silent for the last…” you check the clock on the dash, “thirty nine minutes.” You’re teasing him and he knows it, but it’s also loaded with questions. 

There’s silence, and you wait for him. It’s another thing you’ve learned about him in the last year. Sometimes he’s quiet, but he never avoids you for long. 

“I’m thinking about Kate.” 

There he is. 

You prompt him a little, intrinsically knowing he needs a direction. “Did she have family?”

He nods. “An older sister. She’s flying in from London for the service, but their parents are gone and she wasn’t married, so...that’s it.” 

Still looking at the road, you reach out, wrapping your fingers around his forearm. “I’m so sorry, Aaron.” 

His hand covers yours for a second. “Thanks.”

You pull back, adjusting your grip on the wheel. A question pushes at your lips, but you roll it around in your head before you really consider asking it aloud. 

“You can ask.” 

Your head whips toward him for just a moment. “What?”

“You can ask,” he repeats, the shadow of a smile crossing his face. “I know you want to.”

You concede with a little chuff. “Fine. What happened between you and Kate?” 

“In what sense?” He’s totally fucking with you, and you shove at his shoulder. 

“You know exactly what I mean.” 

He shakes his head. “Alright, fine. There was…” he searches, “a moment when she and I were finished working together on the Scotland Yard case that something...happened.” 

“Something?”

“Well,” he amends, “nothing actually happened, but let’s just say she had a couple too many and made her intentions very clear.” 

Can’t blame her for that one. 

Yeah, and that’s why we don’t get drunk with everyone else. Shit happens. 

You glanced at him, suppressing a smile. “So what happened?”

He shakes his head, and there’s a sort of dry humor in his voice when he answers,“Obviously, she was pretty out of it, so I took her back to her place and made sure she was settled for the night with a glass of water and some aspirin.” A smile cuts through his huff of laughter. You’re not surprised to hear mourning in it, too. “She was miserable in the morning, and called me to ask what happened the night before. I may have...very loosely implied that something small might have happened, just to save her the embarrassment.” 

He pauses, and you know he’s a little reluctant to be this vulnerable - you’re almost sure he never expected to tell this story to anyone, let alone you. 

“The attraction was mutual, so I didn’t feel too bad about omitting the consequences of her…” he searches for a word again, “forwardness. It was - is - something I respect about her both personally and professionally.” 

“Did you ever tell Haley?”

He shook his head. “I told her the truth - that she needed some help getting home, I set her up for the night, and came right back. She wasn’t thrilled, but she and Kate got on well enough that she didn’t mind too much. I think she was more annoyed that I got home so late even without a case, now that I’m thinking about it.” 

You laugh a little. “That sounds like her.” 

“She wasn't always like this, you know.” His voice takes on something a little more pensive, and you settle deeper into your seat to let him know you’re listening, even if your eyes hardly stray from the road. “We had a ridiculous amount of fun together when we were younger - first married, I was fresh out of law school, everything ahead of us, and all that.” He heaves a sigh. “It’s really only since Jack was born that things got...bad.”

He pauses, thinking for a moment. “I wish I could explain the work to her - I sometimes wish she could see it, even though I never actually want her to see the things we see every day.”

You keep your voice light, understanding. “I get that. It can’t be easy knowing that we’re your family, too, and even that’s difficult to explain.” 

There’s silence, and you know there’s a tacit agreement in it. 

His next comment comes a little from left field, but it makes you smile. “She likes you, by the way. She really does.” 

“Good.” You glance over at him. “I’m glad.” 

There’s something he wants to say, and you raise your eyebrows expectantly, knowing he can see it in your profile. 

“Would you want to come over sometime and spend some time with Jack? I -” he exhales, and tries again. “It’s sometimes...weird to have him all to myself.” He laughs a little. “I almost don’t know what to do with him all day when it’s just the two of us.” 

A real smile breaks across your face. “I’d love to.” 

He nods, satisfied with himself. “It’ll be nice for Haley to see you as well. I know she feels a little cut off these days.” 

“Understandable.” 

Another bout of silence fills the car. It’s comfortable. Safe. 

“Thank you,” he says, after a long while. 

You look over, letting your eyes wander down his profile for a moment. “Of course.” 

+++

You stay at a little motel off the highway, pulling over after about four hours on the road. It’s only a little ways back to Fairfax, where you’ll drop him off at home before returning the car to Quantico, but Rossi’s right - it’s nice to take some time. 

In two separate double beds across the room from each other, you wish each other good night in the dark. 

+++

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @wandaswitxh @hurricanejjareau @ange-must-die @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @good-heavens-chris-evans @davidrossi-ismydad @angelsbabey @gublergirls @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @hotchsflower @micaiahmoonheart @ogmilkis @marvels-agents100 @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @joemazzello-imagines @pinkdiamond1016 @pan-pride-12 @lee-rin-ah @sunshine-em @word-scribbless @jdougl-love @sageellsworth05 @nohalohoseok @giveusbackourbucky @writerxinthedark @bauslut @yourlovelynewsbian @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @hotchnersgoddess @buckybau @sana-li @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandice-ray @dontkissthewriter @ellyhotchner @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @ahopelessromantic @violentvulgarvolatile @andreasworlsboring101 @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @bwbatta @roses-and-grasses @lcvischmitt @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @mandylove1000 @garcia-reid-lovechild  @cevanswhre @qvid-pro-qvo @jeor @spencers-hoodrat @infinity1321 @zizzlekwum @katiejuliana @popped-weasels @evee87 @nuvoleincielo @this-broken-band-girl @sapphicstars 

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #hotch x reader #hotch #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #tali writes fanfiction #tali talks cm #a joyful future #a joyful future fanfic

[janetbrown711]

Alrighty. It comes down to this. How would everything be in the Angelina the first lives timeline when Dot is born? I feel like Angelina would be pretty strict on her from the beginning because she "doesn't want another mistake like Lena" to happen. Or something like that.

Princess Angelina II and William had already had two boys, so it was safe to say that when they announced their third pregnancy, everyone assumed it would be another prince. 

And so, it was easy to imagine the surprise on William and Lena’s face when the doctor handed them their beautiful baby girl. 

“A girl, William...” Lena looked at her new baby softly. “Did we ever think of a name for a girl?” She realized, looking back at William. 

“Let me see... there was Giselle, Lucy, Dorothy... Cecilia, I think? Or we could stick with flowers? Like Daisy, Violet, Lily, Yasmine, etc?” William said. Lena looked at her daughter and thought hard. 

“Dorothy is nice... but what if we shortened it to something... simpler. Like- like Dot,” Lena suggested. 

“Dot has a very nice ring to it,” William nodded. “I like it.”

“Princess Dot... I love it already,” She scrunched her nose and smiled at the sleeping baby. 

For a moment, the couple stayed like that, being utterly entranced and wrapped up in their new daughter’s cuteness. However, a quick knock at the door snapped them out of it, and before they knew it, Wakko had burst into the room and ran onto the bed. 

“Is that my baby brother?” Wakko asked, staying on the foot of the bed out of cautious curiosity. 

“Remember Wakko, you have to be quiet with babies,” Yakko reminded his brother, climbing onto the bed at a much slower pace.

“Actually, you boys now have a sister,” William said. 

“A girl?” Angelina stood at the foot of the bed. 

“Yes... a girl,” Lena looked at her mother. 

“Splendid. Angelina Contessa Louisa Francesca Banana Fanna Bo Besca The Third,” The queen nodded in approval. 

“Actually, we already named her-”

“The girl will be named Angelina the Third, and she will be a proper young lady. You do not have a say in the matter,” Angelina declared. 

“We’re her parents. It’s not your place to name her,” Lena argued. 

“Do I need to remind you that I am the Queen? Because you seem to be rather forgetful,” Angelina seethed. 

“Of course not, your majesty,” William sighed. “Princess Angelina Contessa Louisa Francesca Banana Fanna Bo Besca the Third is a beautiful name.”

The queen looked at William and nodded.

“It would do you well to listen to that husband of yours, Angelina. It might do you some good,” She looked at her daughter, entering a mini stare off, before exiting. 

“That name’s really long,” Wakko said once she left. 

“We can still call her Dot, but it’ll be a nickname instead,” Angelina determined. 

“So... her real name would be Angelina the Third, but we’d call her Dot? Wouldn’t grandma find that suspicious?” Yakko asked with a concerned frown. 

“I suppose we’d call her Angelina around your grandmother... but she hardly spends any time with her anyway, I’d hardly see why it matters. All she cares about is what she’s called legally,” Lena said, sharing a look with William. Yakko and Wakko nodded. 

“I like Dot. Dot is a good name,” Wakko smiled, clearly wanting to come closer, but still keeping his distance on the edge. 

“You can get closer, come here,” Lena smiled and gestured for the boys to come closer. William scooted out of the way, and the boys crawled onto either side of their mother, both getting a good look at their sister. 

“Dot,” Yakko nodded. “I think it fits her.”

“I think so too,” William said, ruffling his hair. Yakko laughed. 

“Can we call her Dottie?” Wakko asked. Lena shrugged. 

“That’ll be up to her,” Lena shrugged. “Some people just don’t like certain nicknames.” 

“Okay,” Wakko didn’t argue. He paused a moment, before speaking again. 

“Why does she look like that?”

“Wakko, you can’t just say that,” Yakko gave his younger brother a look. 

“What? She’s so tiny and cute, it’s weird,” Wakko frowned. Lena chuckled. 

“Yakko, Wakko, it’s alright,” She said, before looking at Wakko. “It’s just because she’s a baby, and you’ve never seen one before. Babies are very small, but she’ll grow with time, you’ll see.”

“Will she ever be bigger than me?” he asked. 

“Perhaps... though you’ll always be older,” William said. Wakko nodded, accepting this newfound information. 

“That’s right Wakko, you’re a big brother too,” Lena said with a smile. 

“That means it’ll be part of your job to protect and watch over her, like how Yakko watches over you,” William pointed out. Wakko looked at his big brother. 

“Really?” he asked. Yakko nodded. 

“Welcome to the big brother club,” He grinned. 

“Yay! That’ll be fun,” Wakko gave a big toothy grin, and Lena and William laughed fondly. 

And so their perfect little family gained another member. Wakko quickly adapted to his role of big brother, always watching Dot from afar with curiosity, and slowly coming closer as he gained an understanding of her, especially with the help of Yakko and his father. 

Wakko and Dot grew especially close when Yakko was forced to go to lessons, leaving Wakko with nothing to do, so he naturally wandered into his sister’s room and they’d play together for hours and hours. 

Four years went by of this, and Wakko and Dot had become quite the wild pair, always running around both inside the castle and out, with William and Lena sometimes barely able to keep up. 

Such was the situation one autumn day. Dot and Wakko were playing out in the gardens, while their parents rested at their favorite bench by the center fountain. 

“I’m gonna catch you!” Dot cheered as she chased after her brother. 

“Nuh-uh! I’m the fastest creature there’s ever been,” Wakko shouted back as he ran through the flower beds, not even realizing mud was getting everywhere. Dot didn’t even hesitate to follow, getting mud all over her bright pink dress. 

“Wakko! Dot! Stay out of the flower beds! You’ll crush the tulips,” Their mother called from afar. The children took their mother’s warning, getting out, and continuing their chase.  

Slowly but surely they ran further and further away from their parents, eventually running back into the castle, still in their mad chase. Wakko dashed upstairs, and Dot followed, but Wakko tripped on one step, slowing him down just enough for Dot to tag him and scurry back down and run the other way down the hall, tracking mud as she ran. Wakko wasn’t hurt from his trip, and chased after, as was the rule of tag. 

“Na na nana na! You can’t catch me!” Dot teased her brother, turning her head to look back, becoming confused briefly when she saw him screech to a halt right before-

Poof

Dot ran straight into her grandmother. 

“Princess Angelina- what is the matter with you? Why- you’re filthy!” The queen scolded. 

“I’m not dirty,” Dot frowned. 

“You’re absolutely covered in mud- you have a trail of muddy footprints coming up and down and-... you,” Angelina’s eyes fell upon Wakko. 

“I should’ve known you were behind this from the start- you’re always corrupting that sister of yours,” she stormed towards the frightened eight-year-old. 

“It’s not his fault!” Dot argued, but her grandmother ignored her. 

“We were just playing...” Wakko said. 

“Games are for fools who will never amount to anything,” Angelina grabbed Wakko’s arm and began to drag him off. 

“Don’t take Wakko!” Dot pleaded, running to catch up with the furious queen. 

“I’ve had enough of your antics. First with that brother of yours always talking back, and then your relentless need to give your sister ideas of filth and characteristics most unladylike- I’m going to put you somewhere where your siblings will be free of your influence,” she gripped his arm tighter and Wakko yelped in pain. 

“Let him go! Let him go!” Dot screamed, pulling on her dress as they began to go up some stairs. 

“Stay out of this, Angelina. Go and clean yourself up,” The queen glared.

“My name is Dot!” She shouted at her. giving her dress a massive tug that almost caused her to fall. 

“You irritable brat!” Angelina kicked Dot off of her dress, and Dot tumbled down. 

“Dot!” Wakko cried out, but Angelina returned to dragging him up the stairs, despite how much he was kicking and screaming at this point. 

Eventually, they reached the top of a very, very tall tower, and Wakko was thrown into a dark and dusty room at the top. 

“You are going to stay here and think about what you’ve done,” Angelina seethed. 

“Let me go! You hurt Dot! You’ll pay for that!” Wakko shook and pounded on the door violently, but she had already locked it, and he had only the strength of an eight-year-old.

Wakko paced and paced and paced around the room, desperately trying to think of something he could do. He tried biting on the door handle to see if he could break it, but the solid iron was just too strong. he tried slamming into it, but it only hurt him more. He pondering climbing out the window, but he knew it was far too tall. 

He was trapped. 

Dot was hurt. 

Wakko sunk to the floor, realizing he had already failed at his duty of big brother at the ripe age of eight. 

He could only wonder what was going on in the world below the tower...

.o0o.

“I’m not saying that, Lena, I’m just saying-”

“Wait, William... it’s quiet.” Angelina shot up, mid-conversation and took a look around the garden. “Too quiet... where are Wakko and Dot?”

“They probably just ran back into the castle and forgot to tell us again,” William sighed with a smile. “They’re very forgetful like that. C’mon dearest,” he stood and offered his hand and assisted her up. 

“I don’t like this... something feels off...” Lena looked around. 

“I’m sure it’s fine, Lena, just relax,” William smiled sympathetically. “Like I said, they’re probably just inside.”

“Yes... you’re probably right. I worry too much,” Lena tried to force a laugh to relax her nerves, but something deep within her didn’t feel right. 

Eventually, the couple made it back to the castle, and noticed there was a path of muddy footprints that lead in the same direction. 

“I told them to stay out of the flower beds,” Lena shook her head with a chuckle. They apologized to the cleaners as they went in further. 

“Wakko? Dot?” William called. 

No response. 

“Excuse me, where did do these tracks end?” Lena asked one of the maids. 

“One set goes up a few stairs before ending, the other goes down the nursery hall,” They explained. William and Lena shared a look. 

They thanked the maid and decided to go to the nursery hall to look for them first. 

However, to their distress, when they entered the hallway, they could hear very distinct cries. William and Lena ran to the nursery and found Dot was crying and hugging her stuffed bear, Barky. 

“Dot? Honey, are you okay? Where’s Wakko?” Lena asked, and Dot ran to her and hugged her. 

“G-gra-grand-m-ma t-to-took h-hi-him a-and now h-h-he-he’s g-gone, a-and sh-she kicked me a-and now m-my head hurts a-and- a-and-” Dot hiccuped so much, it was impossible to understand. 

“Grandma? What did she do?” William asked, his concern growing tenfold. 

“Sh-she took him! A-and kicked me d-down the stairs,” Dot sobbed. Lena and William gasped. 

“The tower,” they said at the same time. 

“h-huh?” Dot sniffled. 

“Don’t worry honey, we’ll get Wakko back. Everything is going to be okay,” she kissed her forehead. 

“William, go break him out,” she ordered, and William only paused to give Dot a quick kiss on the forehead too before running out. 

“Meanwhile I am going to have to have a good talking to with your grandmother,” Lena said. 

“D-don’t go!” Dot pleaded. 

“I don’t wanna go, Dottie, but we’re going to find Yakko, okay? Mommy just really needs to talk to grandma about this,” Lena said. Dot sniffled and thought a second before nodding. 

“Yakko is good,” she agreed. Lena nodded, picking up Dot and carrying her until she reached the family study and walked in. 

“Mom?” Yakko tilted his head, before noticing Dot and gasping. “What happened?” He asked. 

“I’m going to have a conversation with your grandmother. Watch over her for me,” Lena said, setting Dot down. Yakko nodded. 

“C’mere Dot,” he stood from his desk and opened his arms, and Dot ran to him and gave a strong hug. 

“She might need some ice for her head while I go talk to your grandmother,” Lena said. Yakko frowned. 

“What happened?” he asked. 

“Nothing you can fix, but something I’m going to try to anyway,” Lena huffed. “Promise me you’ll be smart and stay safe in here?”

“Promise,” Yakko swore. 

“Good,” She bent down and gave Dot another kiss on the top of her head. 

“I’ll be right back you two,” She smiled before heading out. 

The more Lena walked, the more enraged she became. 

She knew her mother was cruel and wicked, but to be so utterly heartless and inhumane as to lock Wakko, an actual child, inside that terrible, horrible, awful room just felt like a whole new level of low. Lena had to draw the line right then and there. Her mother simply could not get away with this. It didn’t matter that she was the queen- this was beyond sadistic. 

She eventually reached the throne room, and burst in. 

“Mother, what the hell is my son doing in that awful tower room?! He’s only eight years old! You had no right do punish him in that way!” She shouted at her. 

“Angelina! I am in the middle-” Her mother tried to say, looking furious. 

“No! You had no right to do that to my son. I mean- seriously. How on earth could you lock up your own grandchild like that?!” Lena asked, and she heard whispers of people behind her. 

Her mother was in the middle of a meeting with ambassadors from other kingdoms in the area. 

“Angelina that is enough!” The queen shouted, standing up from her throne. 

“Outside. Now.” she ordered, and Lena went out one of the doors, her mother following. 

Once the doors shut, The queen removed her glove and slapped Angelina across the face. 

“You have no right addressing your queen like that, especially in a meeting such as that,” She fumed. 

“You have no right treating my son like an animal!” Lena argued, and her mother hit her again. 

“If he doesn’t want to be treated like one then he should stop acting like one.” She grit her teeth. 

“He’s your family. You have no right to treat him like that,” Lena stayed firm. 

“You do not tell me what I can or cannot do. Honestly, Angelina, you are so blinded by your arrogance you always forget that in every situation, I am the one in control,” She stepped forward, leering over her. 

“Well, either way, your little tower tactic won’t work anyways. William is strong enough he’s breaking down the door to free our son right now,” Lena smirked proudly. Her mother hit her again. 

“You know what, Angelina? For years and years and years I have been merciful on you and your pitiful existence. I let you have your bastard peasant husband, and your disgusting children, but now? Your insolence has gone on far too long. I really did hope it wouldn’t come to this, but you’ve forced my hand,” she said, coldly. 

“Wh-what are you going to do?” Lena’s anger evaporated into fear. 

“What I must to remove this blemish on my perfect family tree,” She glared, before walking back and out into the throne room again, leaving Lena horrorstruck.

Dear God... what had she done?

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

#my fics #animaniacs #dot warner #wakko warner #yakko warner #yakko wakko and dot #queen angelina i #queen angelina ii #angelina 1 lives au #angst #tw abuse #tw child abuse #tw hitting #william warner #sir william the good #yakko wakko and dot parents

[babbysquid]

Not A Whiskey Drinker

Author’s Note: Okay weeee I’m super excited about this. I’m really happy with how this first chapter turned out and I already have plans for future chapters. I am such a sucker for Whiskey and I can’t wait to write more.

Warnings: some slight cursing

Length: 1,934 words

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

For as much as you loved New York City, you absolutely hated its winters. Snow in the countryside was beautiful; white and fluffy, it stayed perfect for days on end. Snow in the concrete jungle however; wet, slushy, and turned disgusting in a matter of hours. Trudging your way through Central Park, the snow and salt crunching beneath your feet, you mind drifted. You had just been let go from you recent job, a personal assistant at a high end marketing office. Sighing to yourself and thinking about the possibility of moving back home your foot slipped. Before you could catch yourself you shut your eyes tight, preparing to land hard on your ass. But that smack never came. Opening one eye you were standing face to face with…

“A cowboy?” you asked, quirking an eyebrow at the man in front of you.

“In the flesh.” came the sweetest accent.

Opening your other eye you realized that the cowboy in front of you had snaked a hand around your waist. No wonder you hadn’t fallen. A beat passed and you realized the cowboy still had his arm around you. You stepped away and out of his hold.

“Thank you.” you said, giving an awkward cough and taking a closer look at you savior.

Not to be a cliché, but he was tall, dark, and handsome. Atop his head was a black Stetson, an odd sight in the middle of New York City. He had a perfectly trimmed mustache, and a small smirk underneath it. You silently thanked the cold for hiding the blush that crept up your face. The redness could easily be passed off as a flush from the biting wind.

“Anytime darlin’.” he said, shooting you a wink with eyes that you felt could swallow you whole. “Anyways, I best be on my way.”

Giving you a dazzling smile, he tipped the end of his hat with a gloved hand and brushed past you. You could’ve sworn that his hand grazed yours, but because of your thick mittens it was hard to tell.

Shivering slightly to yourself, you pulled your coat tighter around you and continued your walk to your apartment.

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

Unlocking your door and sighing to yourself you looked around your small studio apartment. It wasn’t much, but over the past year it had become your home. Shucking your jacket off you headed to the couch and sat down to pull off your shoes.

‘Guess I won’t be here much longer’ you thought to yourself.

After making yourself a steaming cup of tea you decided you may as well look at your email. Two days ago when you were told of your “dismissal” you had signed up for a couple different job search sites. If you were lucky enough maybe someone would offer you an interview, but your hopes were low.

You crossed your legs underneath you trying to generate as much heat as possible. As much as you loved your tiny apartment, it was an older building so the heating was shit to say the least. You clicked on the mail icon on your desktop and silently prayed to yourself. 10 new emails. Maybe there was hope.

10 Kale Dishes That’ll Be Sure To WOW Your Houseguests!

WARNING — WE HAVE DETECTED MALWARE

Most of the emails were similar to those: junk and spam, until your eyes landed on the last email.

RE: Y/N Y/L/N Job Opportunity FOUND!

Your eyes widened at the subject. Clicking on the email you realized that it wasn’t a scam, it had really come from one of the job search sites. Swallowing hard you hoped that it wasn’t just an offer from one of those salad making chain restaurants. You had your fair share of beginner jobs; barista, Subway, etc. After getting a taste of something more professional, you knew that that’s where you were meant to be. Besides, the pay that Starbucks gave was certainly not enough to live in New York City on your own.

Dear Ms. Y/L/N,

My name is Mr. Daniels and I am writing to inform you of opening at Statesmen Brewery, the New York City branch. I have been in search for a PA since my previous one left. After reading your resume I have become very interested in your skills and talents. Please let me know what days you are free in the coming week.

Jack Daniels

Head of Statesmen NYC Branch

You snorted at the sign off. There was no way someone’s real name was Jack Daniels and worked for a brewery. It was comedic to say the least, but there was no harm in responding to his email and getting an interview. Maybe this was your chance to stay in the city you loved, even if its winter was disgusting. Taking a sip of your tea you started to write out your response.

Mr. Daniels,

Thank you so much for your offer. I am very interested in an interview and am free Monday all day. Please let me know what time is best for you. Is there anything specific I should bring besides a printout of my resume and documents?

Thank you for your consideration,

Y/N Y/L/N

It was currently Friday so you had the whole weekend to prep yourself for the interview. If you were honest, the idea of an interview created a small pit in your stomach. It had been over a year since you’d been interviewed for a job.

May as well do some research on Statesmen.

Pulling open a new browser you typed in ‘Statesmen Brewery’ and clicked on their website. Clearly the company had some tech savvy people working for them as their website was modern and easy to navigate.

Statesmen Brewery has been brewing fine whiskey since 1885 and serving people all across the country and world.

No wonder you never heard of the company, you had never been big on whiskey.

The brewery had its start in a small barn in Kentucky and has since expanded to include two offices in New York, New York and Los Angeles, California. While our reach is wide, we consider every employee and consumer of our alcohol a close family member.

The rest of the front page went on to describe their whiskey and how smooth it was, as well as some fun facts about the company. You closed your laptop and picked up your tea, holding it close to your face and letting go of the tension in your shoulders that you didn’t realize was there. Before you could fully relax you heard your phone buzz on the couch cushion next to you.

It was your best friend Parker. When you first moved to NYC you decided to visit a small bookstore/coffee shop and accidentally grabbed the wrong drink. Turns out that drink belonged to Parker. She had come to the coffee shop to work on a script for an up and coming TV show that was set to be filmed in the city. The two of you became fast friends. You were slightly jealous of the girl as she really had landed her dream job.

Opening the text she had sent it was a photo of her holding a script she had written. Her round face was pulled up into a smile, her auburn hair slightly frizzed from what seemed to be an all nighter. You smiled at the photo and read the text that followed.

Guess who just finished her first script for SVU!

Quickly you typed out a response:

Congrats! Proud of you P. I have some good news too. Landed an interview with a fancy brewery.

Suddenly your phone buzzed nonstop, Parker was calling you.

You pressed the button to answer the phone and before you could say anything a scream hit your ears.

“AHHHHHH I’M SO EXCITED FOR YOU!!!!!”

“Haha, thanks Parker. Honestly I’m a bit nervous. I did some research and the company seems to be a pretty big deal.”

“What’s the company?”

“Statesmen Brewery.”

“Oh shit my parents love their stuff.”

“I literally know nothing about whiskey other than the fact that I don’t like it. I feel stressed. The interview is on Monday.”

“I’ll come over tomorrow and help you with prep. Also you know I gotta help pick out the perfect interview outfit.”

“Thanks babe. You’re the best.”

“I know.”

You snorted at her response. Parker was confident, and more importantly confident in you. The thought of having her help you prep eased the knot in your stomach.

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

The rest of the afternoon was spent talking to Parker over the phone. Eventually the two of you ended your call and you were left to do some random chores around your place. As you mopped the floor you slipped a bit but caught yourself before you fell over. Your mind flashed back to earlier in the day.

At the time you didn’t realize how strong the cowboy’s grip was, but it was not overpowering. You remembered how gentlemanly he was. Looking back on it you tried to remember his face. While it was a short interaction, you couldn’t deny that he was easy on the eyes. Sighing softly you tried to remember the last time you went on a date. It had been several months ago. Your busy PA job never really allowed for romantic relationships. Shaking your head you got on with your day, finishing your chores, eating some leftover Chinese food for dinner, and sinking deep into your bed.

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

You were awoken by a knock on your door. Grunting as you got out of bed you swung open the door. The only person who would bother to come over without letting you know was Parker. Your suspicions were correct as she walked through the threshold and made herself at home, talking a mile a minute the entire time.

“Okay so first we need to talk about clothing options.” she said dumping her bag on your couch.

“Not prepping for the interview?” you said giving her a confused look.

Parker sighed.

“Look, I already know you have this interview in the bag. Sure, you may not like whiskey, but you are a wonderful person. While you may be stubborn” you frowned at her comment, “that can be super helpful in interviews. You are a go getting Y/N. I have no doubts about that.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“Fashion show time!” she said, opening the small closet and rummaging around to find something suitable.

After an hour had passed the two of you finally settled on a suitable outfit. It was professional but still had a touch of you in it. A simple black skirt with a fun silky button down shirt that had a cool pattern on it. As you looked at yourself in the mirror you couldn’t deny that Parker knew what she was doing when it came to fashion.

“Okay finishing touch time.” she said as she unbuttoned the top two buttons of your shirt.

“Parker! This is a job interview, not a date.”

“Ugh. It’s a brewery, they’re gonna be more relaxed about these things. Plus you never know, this Jack Daniels could be a cutie.” she said, giving you a wink.

You chuckled and shook your head. Parker was eccentric but you really did love her. You still had a small bit of anxiety running through your body, but the help of your best friend made you feel more positive about Monday. Maybe you’d be able to stay in New York. Maybe this job might be better than the previous.

#jack daniels #agent whiskey #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels x you #agent whiskey x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #not a whiskey drinker #NAWD

[arcticguk]

santa baby | knj

❅ pairing, au, warnings: kim namjoon x reader, fluff, allusions to smut, angst, emotionally and verbally abusive parents, swearing, fake dating au, best friends to lovers au, christmas au

❅ précis: you ask namjoon to be your pretend boyfriend for the holidays.

❅ word count: 4,667

❅ part of my holiday drabble series

❅ a/n: pls lmk if u need me to tag anything extra! i put stuff in the warnings, but do not hesitate to tell me if it’s not enough. also we’re gonna ignore the fact that this fic is so much longer than any of my other xmas ones :)

“Namjoon, please?”

“No.” He says firmly, shoving another spoonful of noodles into his mouth. “If this is the only reason you invited me to dinner, I’ll stop coming.”

You snort, loudly. “Like that’ll ever happen. You can’t cook for shit.”

He frowns, setting his fork down beside his near-empty bowl. “And if I do this for you, what will I get in return?”

“Besides my lovely friendship?” You smirk, earning a glare from Namjoon. “I’ll make you dinner every night for a month.”

He presses his lips together, contemplating. “Sold!”

You roll your eyes playfully, flicking his forehead.

“Hey now!” He scolds. “Is that any way to treat your fake boyfriend?”

Your family was very big on appearance. They didn’t care that you sister and her husband practically hated each other, as long as they plastered on fake smiles and put on a good show in front of everyone. They didn’t care that your little brother and his boyfriend had been broken up for two months, they paid the boyfriend to come to a family event and pretend to be infatuated with your brother for one night.

You’d showed up solo to Christmas in the past, but according to your parents, this year was important. They were throwing a huge Christmas Eve party with all of their friends, coworkers, and extended family. They’d made it very clear that if you weren’t going to show up with someone, then you might as well just not show up at all.

And you knew you should just say fuck it and not go. That’s what your brother was doing, but deep down, as much as you hate to admit it, you still crave your parents’ validation and praise.

Namjoon knows how rocky your relationship with your parents is, that’s why he was so against the idea in the first place, but here you were, packing for a trip home with your ‘boyfriend’.

“Okay, we need a backstory.” Namjoon says from the passenger seat. Reaching for the coffee in your cupholder to steal a sip. “Like how we met and started dating.”

“Wait!” He perks up. “Do your parents know that we’re friends? Because then we could say we were friends and then fell for each other or—”

You cut him off with a sharp shake of your head. “No, they don’t know. I don’t tell them very much about what goes on in my life.”

“Okay.” He says softly.

You crack a smile, biting your lip to keep tears at bay, ones you didn’t even realize had formed.

“So, this backstory huh?”

Namjoon grabs both his duffel and yours, helping you shoulder your backpack as he does the same. You take a shaky breath before slamming the car door shut. Namjoon reaches for your hand, giving it a light squeeze.

“Five days,” He breathes in your ear. “You’ve got this.”

You squeeze his hand in thanks, pocketing your keys with your other hand. “Let’s go then?”

You and Namjoon make your way up the front walk, observing the perfectly decorated façade of the house, something you know your parents paid good money for. Before you can ring the bell, the door is yanked open, both your mother and father standing there to greet you.

“___!” Your mother chirps, pulling you in for a hug. She squeezes for a second before letting you go, prompting your father to do the same.

“And who is this handsome young man?” Your mother wonders.

“This is Namjoon.” You swallow. “My boyfriend.”

Your mother smiles, clasping her hands together underneath her chin. “Oh, how wonderful!” She squeaks. “You didn’t tell me you were dating anyone.”

You shrug helplessly. “I wanted to surprise you!”

“And what a lovely surprise it is.”

“So, tell me again why we have to change for dinner?” Namjoon wonders, buttoning his grey shirt. You fluff your hair once more before turning to smirk at Namjoon.

“Because, everything in this family is an event.” You say sarcastically, giggling. He laughs, wiping his palms on his dress pants.

“You did great by the way,” You comment, sliding silver hoops into your ears. “I think they love you already.”

He looks at you, admiring the way your chiffon jumpsuit fits you, how great the black material looks against your skin.

“Joon?” You wonder, ripping him out of his daze.

“What? Oh, thanks.” He smiles.

“Hmm.” You grin, reaching up to fix a piece of his hair. He’d recently dyed it black and you were obsessed, you can’t get over how good it looks on him.

“You ready for dinner?” You wonder, reaching for his hand.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” He sighs, pasting on a smile, gripping your hand tightly with his own.

As you make your way down the grand staircase, leading Namjoon, you smile with ease, surprised at the calm in your being. Family dinners always filled you with dread but having your best friend by your side seemed different, less scary.

When everyone is seated at the large, mahogany table, you start on your salad, taking a sip of water. For most of the meal, your parents focus their attention on Namjoon, peppering him with questions about his job, his education, and childhood.

Namjoon smoothly transitions the conversation back to your parents, wondering; “If ___ told you about her big promotion at work?”

Your mother’s gaze shifts to you, raising her eyebrows expectantly. “That’s great sweetheart, congratulations.” You smile at the praise, your face warming bashfully.

After dinner and dessert, you and Namjoon bid a goodnight to your parents, sister, and your brother-in-law, before heading up to your bedroom.

“Are family dinners,” Namjoon starts, tugging his shoes off, once your door is shut, “usually that tense?”

You nod solemnly, removing all your jewelry and pulling out the elastic from your hair. “You really impressed them though!” You exclaim. “And that’s not easy to do.” You mumble, looking down at your feet.

“I’m sure it is for you.” He laughs. How could your parents not be impressed by his beautiful, intelligent, kind, and brilliant best friend.

You shrug, pulling some clothes to sleep in from your bag. “I’m gonna change then the bathroom’s all yours.”

He nods, taking the opportunity to change into his own sleepwear, setting his watch on the dresser, and setting his phone on the charger.

When you emerge from the bathroom, clad in a hoodie and matching sweatpants, Namjoon smiles softly, switching with you so he can wash his face and brush his teeth.

When he exits the bathroom, you’re working your dinner outfit onto a hanger before placing it in the closet.

You flick the overhead lights off, turning on one of the bedside lamps to cast the room with a warm glow. Namjoon awkwardly stuffs his hands in his pockets.

“I can sleep on the floor.” He speaks up. You give him a look, arching an eyebrow.

“Joon, don’t be silly,” You comment. “It’s a king size bed.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

He smiles, gingerly sliding into the bed, tugging the covers over his lap. You smile, doing the same, pulling out your phone to watch something while Namjoon opens a thick novel from his bag. The two of you sit in comfortable silence, each doing something separate while together. It’s not awkward, in fact just the opposite. The space surrounding you and Namjoon is comfortable, calm, and it feels nice.

Namjoon learns that breakfast is the only meal where it is acceptable to dress down. After informing him that pajamas, are in fact, allowed when he’d gone to get dressed. After you slide into your slippers, he wraps an arm around your waist, letting you drag him down the stairs just as you had the night before.

You and Namjoon are the first people to arrive at the table, so you scoot your chair extra close to his, giggling when he stumbles getting into his chair. His smile dimples his pink cheeks, a sight that makes your heart flutter in your chest.

Your head is nestled in the crook of his neck, cheeks warm with laughter, giggles escaping your lips at the story Namjoon finished telling you. Namjoon’s lips are parted in a wide grin, one arm flung loosely around the back of your chair, the other one resting on your thigh. When your laughter has subsided, you nuzzle further into his neck, sighing heavily. Namjoon’s hand cradles the back of your head, lips near your ear.

“You doin’ okay?” He wonders softly. You nod against his neck. You reach for his free hand, squeezing it tightly with your own.

“I’m fine.” You breathe. “Just a little on edge.”

He nods in understanding, pressing a kiss to your hairline.

It was not unusual for you and Namjoon to be affectionate with each other, but this morning, butterflies were flapping in your stomach, the way Namjoon is treating you borders on couple territory.

“Well look who’s up!”

The warm, soft atmosphere Namjoon had created for you, vanishes when you hear your mother’s voice, your shoulder’s tensing, head whipping around.

“Hi, hey, good morning.” You stumble, moving you chair back to its normal spot, putting some space between you and Namjoon.

“Good morning.” Namjoon greets with a dimpled smile. He reaches for your hand underneath the table, giving it a big squeeze.

You smile at the small show of affection and squeeze back.

Your parents wait until your sister and her husband have joined at the table, taking their seats directly across from Namjoon and you.

“Orchid!” Your mother says, speaking directly to your older sister. “You should’ve seen Namjoon and ___, when we first came down.” She smiles motioning at the two of you. “They were all over each other.”

Your sister looks to you, eyebrows raised.

“We weren’t, I don’t—” You flounder for words in your haste, Namjoon smoothly cutting you off as he puts his arm around the back of your chair.

“It’s hard not to be when you’re with someone as wonderful as ___.” Namjoon chirps. You step on his foot under the table.

“Cheesy much?” You wonder, quiet, but still loud enough for the other members of the table to hear you.

“Only for you honey.” He produces a megawatt smile before pecking a kiss to your temple.

Your mother practically falls out of her seat swooning, but not before giving a pointed look to Orchid and her husband, Sungmin.

That was what your mother did. She pitted the two of you against each other, pulled out your insecurities and served them out on a silver platter. Orchid and Sungmin were on the brink of divorce, of course they aren’t affection with each other. You were just waiting for your mother to sink her claws into you.

“Oh but ___, did you hear about Orchid’s big case?” She wonders, a vile smile creeping up her face. “It’s very important and her boss has entrusted her with handling it. I have no doubts she’ll win.”

“That’s great Orchid.” You smile. “Congratulations.” You feel genuine warm feelings towards your sister, your shitty childhood making your relationship stronger. Orchid had often held you when you cried and let you sleep in her bed when you were really upset after something your mother had said.

“And ___,” Your mother shifts her attention fast enough to make your head spin. “How’s work?”

“It’s great.” You manage through gritted teeth.

“She actually just got a promotion.” Namjoon smiles. “Like I said last night, its super exciting.” You don’t miss the little dig at your mother, and you suppress the urge to laugh. He grins proudly and you can’t help but smile a little. Namjoon had been the most supportive person in your life ever since he came into, overwhelmingly proud when you became got your degree and again when you got your first serious job.

“I’ve never understood how people can find joy in accounting.” Your mother spits. “It seems boring and there’s so many numbers.”

“Actually,” You pipe up. “It’s very interesting and you can really—”

“Still, I could never do it.” She cuts you off sharply.

“___ is incredibly intelligent.” Namjoon speaks again, eyes locking right on your mother’s. “It’s not boring for her. Although I could see how it could be for those who don’t understand numbers as well.”

Your mother’s jaw drops just the slightest, before she shuts her mouth, arms falling helplessly to her lap. You could kiss Namjoon right there, no one’s ever gotten your mother to shut up like that and you revel in it.

Once your mother has composed herself, she clears her throat, gaining the attention of everyone, yet again.

“So Namjoon, what do you do?”

“I’m a writer.” He answers, posture tall and confident, his eyes right on hers again.

“That’s lovely.” She comments. “Did you know that Sungmin is a doctor?”

“I did not.” He says politely. “That’s a very admirable job.”

“So is writing!” Sungmin pipes up. “I’ve always wished I had a talent with words like that. I used to pay my friends in university to write papers for me.”

Namjoon chuckles at that, smiling.

“Namjoon writes for a magazine in our city and he does some freelance stuff for big companies too.” You say proudly and he grins at you.

“That’s awesome man,” Sangmin comments. “I’d love to read some of your stuff sometime.”

“Yeah, I can—”

“But surely writing can’t be as fulfilling as a doctor. Nothing can beat saving lives.”

Everyone straightens grimly, all smiles disappearing.

“Remember I’m a general care physician, I don’t perform major surgeries.” Sungmin smiles awkwardly.

“That doesn’t mean you don’t save lives baby.” Orchid coos, setting her hand on his forearm. “But no career is better than another.” She comments, looking directly at your mother. “Every job is important, and everyone has different things they’re passionate about.” She looks at Namjoon now. “And I think writing is wonderful. You must be really smart.” You smile at your sister in thanks and she winks.

Your mother just scoffs, finally deciding to be quiet and eat her breakfast.

That was really…intense.” Namjoon sighs, tugging a clean crewneck over his head. You look up from the mirror where you’re rubbing moisturizer into your skin.

“Hmm.” You hum in agreement. “I’m so sorry by the way. The way my mother treated you was unacceptable.”

“It’s okay.” He answers honestly. When he sees your frown deepen, he sets his hands on your cheeks.

“___. I promise you it’s fine.”

“I just feel bad. It’s bad enough you had to come here and do this but now my mother is insulting your career and—”

His thumb nudges your chin, prompting you to stop talking. “First of all, I didn’t have to come here okay? I chose to be here. And second, you are not accountable for the things that mother says. She’s not nice to you either.” He reminds you with a soft smile.

“Thank you.” You say simply. He kisses the top of your head before scrounging his suitcase for his Converse. “Okay, I’m making an executive decision for us.” You state, flopping down onto the bed. His eyebrow quirks in curiosity, smiling, encouraging you to go on.

“We’re going out.” You announce. “I can show you my hometown, we can go shopping, get food. And if we time it right, we won’t have to be here for lunch or dinner.”

“I like the way you think.” He smirks, winking as he laces up his sneakers.

You’re a little buzzed from the spiced cider you had at dinner, giggling when Namjoon helps you out of the car, one arm already full of bags from the purchases you’d both made that day.

One of the things you loved about coming home, was getting to visit all the little shops and restaurants that were set up in town. You and Namjoon spent the day supporting your local small businesses and you couldn’t have been happier. It was a great way to spend time with your best friend—and get away from your parents.

You lean into him as you make your way up the front walk, giggling again when he trips on the cobblestone, his stature pitching forward before he catches himself.

Your parents and sister are lounging in the front room, your parents seated on the large sofa, your sister and Sungmin across from them on the loveseat.

“___, Namjoon, come join us!” Your mom suggests cheerfully, a glass of red wine resting in her hand.

“Okay,” Namjoon nods. “Let us take these bags upstairs and we’ll be right back.”

Namjoon leads you up the staircase, hand on your lower back.

“We probably should hang out for a bit,” You comment. “We haven’t seen them all day.”

Namjoon nods in agreement, taking the bags from your hands, setting them in the closet alongside his suitcase.

“Lemme just change,” You say, peeling your sweater over your head, eliciting a blush on Namjoon’s cheeks, his head ducking down.

You trade your sweater and jeans for a hoodie and Christmas-themed pajama pants, heading into the bathroom to scrub off your makeup while Namjoon changes into sweatpants and a t-shirt.

Your parents look up when you reenter, smiling softly when they see the way you’ve nuzzled yourself into Namjoon’s side.

“Oh! Look what we put up earlier!” Orchid comments, pointing to the doorframe right above you and Namjoon.

Mistletoe.

“Oh, ha ha.” Namjoon chuckles awkwardly, his face heating up once again.

“Come on lovebirds,” Your sister laughs. “Give us a little show.”

“Gross Orchid.” You mumble, glaring right at her.

“You have to!” Your mother giggles. “It’s the rules.”

Namjoon looks like he wants to melt into the floor, scratching the back of his neck.

You aren’t sure if it’s the alcohol that’s lingering in your body, or how cute your best friend looks with his red cheeks, but something fills you with confidence, and you squish his warm cheeks with your hands, pressing a hard kiss to his pouted lips.

Your parents laugh and cheer, Orchid clapping good-naturedly. When you pull away from Namjoon, his eyes are wide, puffy lips parted in astonishment.

“So, this is it huh?” Namjoon wonders, straightening the red tie around his neck, which not-so-coincidentally matched the exact shade of your cocktail dress. “The big party.”

“Yup.” You nod, double checking your makeup in the mirror.

To say Namjoon was nervous about the Christmas Eve party, was an understatement. He was freaking out. He wants to make a good impression on everyone, in hopes that he can sell the lie the two of you have been living the past few days.

“You’ll be fine.”

He nods, swallowing harshly. He doesn’t admit it to you, but the party isn’t the only thing making him uneasy. You had never talked about last night, after you had kissed him, everything went on as usual, as if it never happened.

You slip into your heels, giving him a small smile.

“Alright,” You sigh softly, taking his arm. “Party time.”

You swallow another sip of champagne, gripping tightly to Namjoon’s arm. He had survived all of the introductions, and unsurprisingly, everyone loved him.

Dinner had already been served, and everyone was mingling, upbeat holiday music filtering through the speaker system, champagne and wine flowing easily.

Your parents were talking to some clients from your mother’s interior design firm, and you know without listening that she’s talking about you and Orchid.

That’s the thing about your mom—she’ll criticize every decision you make, but in front of everyone else she plays the proud, devoted parent, bragging about all of your accomplishments, as if she had anything to do with them.

Namjoon senses your discomfort and he nuzzles his cheek against the top of your head. The wine he’d been drinking had earlier served as liquid courage, but now that he was relaxed, he was just sleepier and cuddlier than usual.

“You okay?” He murmurs, lips at your ear. You nod robotically, leaning against his shoulder. Obviously, you’re not okay and he knows that, so he takes your hand, leading you outside to the back patio for a moment of fresh air.

Noticing the chill on your skin and the shiver in your movements, he drapes his suit jacket over your shoulders, wrapping an arm around you.

“You’re not okay.” He whispers. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s just,” You sigh, leaning into his embrace. “My mother. She’s so critical and finds fault in everything we do, yet when it comes to appearances and other people, she has nothing but good things to say.” You bite your lip to hold back the tears that fill your eyes, looking out into the wooded backyard. “If she really is proud, then why can’t she ever tell us?”

“Oh honey,” Namjoon frowns.

“It just feels like nothing I ever do is good enough. I work hard, I did well in school, but it’s like it’s not good enough. Why do I care so much about my parents’ approval, why can’t I just be proud of myself because I’ve done well?”

You don’t stop the tears from falling, splattering onto your cheeks and no doubt making tracks in your carefully applied makeup.

“I’m sorry.” Namjoon whispers. “I’m so sorry that you feel this way. I’m insanely proud of you and I wish you could see how wonderful you are, so deserving of love and praise.”

“I love you.” You blurt, the words spilling so easily from your lips, with a little help from the champagne in your system.

“Oh,” He smiles. “I love you too, you know th—”

“No Namjoon, I love you.” You murmur.

Something sparks in his eyes, you don’t see the way his demeanor changes, as he realizes what these feelings were—are. Spending all this time with you has made him feel different, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on the feeling. But now, he knows, he loves you too.

“Can we go upstairs?” You wonder. “I’m so tired, I can’t be down here anymore, I just want—”

He cuts you off with a nod, taking your hand and letting you lead him to the back staircase, so you can escape without anyone seeing you.

Once the door is closed—and locked, you fling off your heels, flopping onto the bed. You drag your ring finger under your eyes, in attempt to collect the mascara clumps that washed off your eyelashes with the tears you’d shed.

“I love you too.” Namjoon announces, throwing his tie and shoes in a pile before standing over you. “God, I love you so much. I never realized how I feel, but now I know and—”

You cut him off with a press of your lips on his, hands grabbing for his shoulders and pulling him down. His lips melt into yours, returning the kiss with more fervor, mouth warm and soft.

You’re gripping on his shirt, clawing at the buttons when he pulls back slightly, running a hand through his damp locks, slicking it up onto his head.

“H-honey,” He starts, stumbling over his words a little. “I don’t know if we should be doing this right now.”

“What?” You pout, sitting up. “Why not? Do you not—”

“No, no, no, trust me I want to.” He sighs. “But you’re upset, we’ve been drinking…” He trails off and you whine.

“Joon please, I want this, I want you, I love you.” You frown, setting a hand on his cheek.

He looks into your eyes, searching for an ounce of hesitation. When he doesn’t find any, he you pull him back down, hovering above your form.

“Are you sure?” He murmurs, his breath ghosting over your lips.

“Positive.” With your affirmation, he presses his lips to your own, lightly tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth.

He breathes in the groan that passes through your lips, sighing deliciously. After Namjoon’s tie is crumpled on the floor and a failed attempt at the buttons on his shirt, you tug on each side until it releases, the fabric literally ripping before you toss it away.

Namjoon only chuckles, shifting positions so that you can straddle his lap. Your hands grip his hair, exhaling when his lips meet the skin on your neck.

“I love you.” He simpers, lips behind your ear. “I love you so damn much.”

When you wake up the next morning, something’s changed. Not only between you and Namjoon—who’s currently cuddled into your side—but also the way you feel about yourself.

“Joonie,” You coo, tousling his hair. “Joon wake up, it’s Christmas.”

“Mmm, morning Christmas,” He murmurs sleepily. He nuzzles his face into your neck, eyelids falling shut.

“Namjoon,” You whisper. “C’mon. Let’s get up.”

“Please?” He whines. “Can we please sleep for a little longer before we have to go down there?”

“No Joonie, we’re going home.” You push back the covers and climb out of the bed, cold air flushing your skin.

His head snaps up, eyes perking up. “What?!”

“We’re leaving.” You announce, sliding on his t-shirt from two nights ago. “Unless, you want to stay?” You tease, raising an eyebrow.

“I’ll start packing now!” He gets out of bed, pressing a kiss to your cheek before grabbing some fresh clothes and entering the bathroom.

You dress and pack up your belongings, so that when Namjoon is ready, you are too.

The two of you hold hands down the stairs, leaving your bags by the doorway before venturing into the kitchen.

“Good morning!” Your mother chirps. “Merry Christmas!”

“Hey guys.” You greet awkwardly.

“Come, sit down—have some breakfast, then we’ll open gifts.”

“Actually Mom,” You breathe. “We’re leaving.”

“What!?”

“Namjoon and I are going to go home.”

“Absolutely not, sit down.”

“No Mom. I don’t wanna be here anymore. I thought now that I’m grown up you would actually treat me with an ounce of respect, but I was wrong.”

“Excuse me?” Your mother snaps.

“Come on honey, let’s just go.” Namjoon urges, squeezing your hand tightly. You shake your head, squeezing his hand back.

“Before we leave I have something to say, and you’re going to listen to me.” You tell your mother, tone firm yet gentle. “For my entire life I’ve taken shit from you. The verbal abuse, emotional abuse, all the digs, all the criticism. Nothing I ever did was good enough for either of you and I’m done with it. I’m happy with who I am, what I do, and who I choose to spend time with. I’m done trying to impress you, this is my life, not yours. I am more than good enough and shame on you for not seeing it.”

You take a shaky breath wiping the single tear that fell down your face while you were speaking.

“And you Dad?” You add, redirecting your gaze. “You never did say anything. Never stood up for us, and God forbid you actually were proud of us without Mom telling you, you were allowed to be.”

Your parents sit there, dumbfounded. You take a moment to catch your breath before turning to look at Namjoon, who is trying very hard to bite back his grin. Orchid’s face is a mixture of admiration and pure joy, mouthing; I’ll call you later.

“Honey, I’m sorry you feel that way.” Your mother manages, thinking for her next words.

You swiftly shake your head.

“I love you both, but we’re leaving.” You smile. “We can work through this, only if you’re willing. But for now, I want to go home and spend Christmas with my boyfriend.”

You and Namjoon turn to leave, collecting your luggage before loading up the car.

“Holy shit.” Namjoon blurts. “That was fucking amazing, I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you.” You smile. “It felt good.” He leans over to kiss you, hand cupping your cheek.

“It was also pretty fucking hot.”

© arcticguk 2020. absolutely no reposting, translating, or modifying, even with credit.

#mine #my work #my writing #bts fluff #bts writing #bts fic #bts imagine #bts drabble #bts blurb #kim namjoon writing #namjoon writing #namjoon fluff #namjoon fic #namjoon imagine #namjoon drabble #namjoon blurb #kim namjoon blurb #kim namjoon drabble #bts rm writing #bts namjoon imagine #kim namjoon x reader #namjoon x reader #bts rm x reader #series: merry merry #fic: santa baby #namjoon angst #namjoon smut #bts angst #bts smut

[moldisgoodforyou]

jealous

wordcount: 3k

warnings: cursing, mentions of sex

______

After a little bit of bribery, Rafe convinced Sophie to come with him to a charity event he was representing his dad at in Columbus. Once Rafe had committed to Ohio State, Ward immediately began making contacts in Ohio and broadening his impact, putting Rafe to work - and still keeping him tied to the family business as much as he could. To convince Sophie just a little bit more (even though it wasn’t necessary, she’d stand by his side no matter what), he got the help of Allie and Julia to pick out a new dress for her and surprise her with it the morning of the event. 

Once she learned that Ward wouldn’t be attending, she was a lot more excited for the event. Rafe made a show out of picking her up, coming to the door with flowers in hand. Word moved fast in the sorority house and by the time Sophie made it downstairs, there was a whole discussion in the groupchat about who the cute boy was wearing the suit and waiting outside their door. When she came down in the dress, red lipstick and all, he whistled, motioning for her to twirl. 

Sophie grinned and rolled her eyes but spun for him. “Are those for me?” 

He handed her the flowers, beaming. “Yes they are. You look incredible, baby.” 

She blushed, shaking her head. “You don’t look so bad yourself. Here, I’ll be right back, let me run these up to my room.” She accepted the flowers and turned on her heel, striding upstairs. 

Allie and Julia came back downstairs with Sophie, wearing matching grins. “Clean up nice, Cameron!” Julia called out with a smirk. “Yeah, do you have friends that'll buy us nice dresses and take us to galas?” Allie chimed in, laughing when Sophie gave her a shove on the way past. 

“Ah, this one already tried that. Didn’t end well.” Rafe teased, sending a pointed glance to Julia. Julia’s cheeks heated almost instantly and she flipped him off, shaking her head. “You said we’d never speak of it again.” 

“Pretty sure that was my rule.” Sophie interrupted, taking Rafe’s arm. “Leave my boyfriend -” 

“Sugar daddy -” 

“Oh my god, I told you to quit that -” 

Allie cut both the girls off with a pointed “hey!” and Sophie rolled her eyes. “Julia, hush, Sophie, you go have fun. Snag us a bottle of fancy alc.” 

Rafe laughed and waved goodbye to the girls, escorting Sophie out. “They’re fun. I’m glad they’re your friends.” She shook her head, laughing. “Sometimes I am not. Hey.” 

“Hey.” 

“You did a good job on the dress, I’m impressed.” 

He smirked and helped her into the car, then ran one hand up her thigh. “I have to admit, I picked it out more for the slit up the leg than anything.” Sophie giggled and tugged on his tie to pull him in for a kiss. “Think we can sneak away early tonight?” 

“We have my room available from...” He paused, thinking. “Eleven to midnight. The gala ends at ten thirty.” 

She laughed, messing with the radio once he got in to drive. “We’re really scheduling sex like an old married couple?” 

“We won’t have to when we’re old and married.” Rafe responded without missing a beat, then instantly realized and blushed, fumbling with his words. “Uh, I mean. Um. Yes, uh, but only because we have the roommates - I mean, next year, we’ll both have our own rooms, so -” 

She cut him off, amused by his embarrassment. “I’m just messing with you. Besides, that’ll give you more than enough time to finish.” 

“Sophie! Take it back. You know that’s not true.” He pushed her shoulder playfully, shaking his head. 

“It was true after your formal.” She smirked, loving the way he squirmed when she teased him. The rest of the short ride was spent like that, with mindless flirting and teasing about sex, until he had to make her find directions to the venue. 

When he parked, she moved to get out right away, but he reached over and grabbed her hand before she could get out of the car. “Hey, wait. Uh, I should maybe warn you -”

She raised her eyebrows. “Now you decide to warn me about something? Right before we’re going in?”

Rafe winced. “I love you?”

“Uh huh. Not the time. What do I need to know?”

He spoke quickly, knowing he was in trouble. “My ex will be there and she’s liked every picture of us together on Instagram and texted me that she was excited to see me this weekend.”

Sophie sat back in the seat, taking a deep breath as she processed the information. “Who? And you didn’t tell me this, why?”

“Brooklyn. And, uh...that’s a good question, Sophie. You know, I really appreciate your critical thinking skills, have I ever told you that?” He gave her a half-smile, trying to cheer her up without success.

“Rafe?”

“Yeah?”

“Please shut up.”

“Yes ma’am.”

She rolled her eyes and got out with him, taking his arm when he offered it as they walked inside. Sophie didn’t ask much about his previous relationships, just noted when he brought it up infrequently and tried to reassure him that whatever his ex had told him, they were wrong and he was a great boyfriend. She only regretted not pushing more about it now, when she was about to meet the girl. 

It was almost amusing watching him go into entertaining mode the second they stepped in and the first person came over to greet him - it was the same presence he commanded at parties, just remarkably more professional in that environment. After a solid hour of Sophie just standing by while Rafe made polite small talk, dinner was announced and they glanced over the table arrangements to find their spot.

“Oh, fuck.” Rafe mumbled under his breath, spying his ex’s name featured right next to his and Sophie’s. She noticed her name was written as Sophie Cameron, but decided to hold her tongue on the mix up.

She furrowed her brow, taking his hand. “It’s a minor thing, Rafe, I’m sure it was a simple mistake -”

“What? No, no.” He shook his head and pointed to the name Brooklyn Rowley at the head of the table. She nodded once in recognition, pretty sure her heart was sinking to her stomach at the moment. “Oh.”

“You know what? It’ll be fine. It’ll be fine, we won’t even have to talk to her, there’s fourteen people at the table. It’ll be fine.” He repeated, trying to reassure himself more than Sophie.

She let him lead her to the table - that was already full except for their two seats. Brooklyn practically jumped up out of her seat when she saw Rafe, grinning ear to ear. “Oh my god, Rafe, hi! Here, come sit next to me.”

Rafe gave Brooklyn an awkward side hug in response to her attempted bear hug, pulling out Sophie’s chair before taking his seat. “Brooklyn, this is my -”

“I’m Sophie.” She interrupted, giving the girl one of the fakest smiles Rafe had ever seen. “His girlfriend. It’s nice to meet you.” She reached across Rafe, extending her arm to shake Brooklyn’s hand.

Brooklyn pretended to be surprised as she shook Sophie’s hand. “Oh!” She elbowed Rafe teasingly. “She’s cute, Rafe. Didn’t think you’d jump into a relationship again, after.” She gave him a sly smile and touched his arm. “Well, you know.”

Sophie steeled herself, pouring herself a generous glass of wine from the table. Rafe gave a nervous chuckle and nudged his foot against Sophie’s under the table. “We’ve been together for four months now, there’s no jumping into anything. I’ve known Sophie since we were at least fourteen.”

“So you didn’t meet at school? Sophia, do you go to Ohio State with us too?” Brooklyn’s eyes flitted to Sophie’s fingers curled tight around the wine glass, asking the question right when she took a sip.

“No, we met in high school. We’re both from the Outer Banks.” Sophie explained, ultra-polite. “But I go to Ohio State, we just happened to end up here together.”

“Right, right. So you’ve met the family and everything. Has he taken you to the Bahamas house yet? The view is gorgeous.” Brooklyn grinned, touching Rafe’s hand again.

Sophie resisted from gritting her teeth as Rafe gave her a pained glance. “Um, no. I haven’t been.” She tried racking her brain and vaguely remembered a brief mention of the Bahamas from Sarah talking about their summers, but didn’t realize there was a whole vacation home involved.

“Oh! That’s funny. He took me after, like, two months.” She paused for a second to look Sophie over, pleased her words were clearly taking effect. “But it’s like, more of a summer house anyways, so the timing must not have worked out with you two yet. I mean, we went over Christmas break that one time, but -”

“We stayed home for Christmas this year.” Rafe interrupted, resting his hand on Sophie’s thigh under the table, but in clear view of Brooklyn’s line of sight.

Brooklyn nodded, not backing down. “So, Sophia -”

“It’s Sophie. But go on.” Sophie shot back an equally tense smile, feigning interest.

“Right, sorry, Sophie. There’s this gorgeous little private beach you can go to, you should go. If he ever takes you.” She touched Rafe’s shoulder and Sophie bit the inside of her cheek hard, feeling ready to snap. “Oh my god, Rafe, remember when we were drunk and we almost got caught on the beach?” She giggled. “Good thing we weren’t actually making love that time, but my top was off and everything, it was so embarrassing.”

“Sounds like it.” Sophie replied dryly, stepping on Rafe’s foot with her heel under the table. As much as she wanted to gag hearing about the two of them ‘making love,’ she just swallowed another big sip of wine instead. He let out a pained, quiet groan and Brooklyn frowned. “Is something wrong?”

“No, no, I’m fine. Just, uh,” he gestured to their empty plates as they waited to be served. “Hungry, I guess. Hey, you’ve been to Barcelona, right? Sophie’s studying abroad there this summer, I’m really proud of her.” Rafe squeezed her thigh under the table, and Sophie relaxed a tiny bit.

Brooklyn shook her head. “No, I’ve been to Madrid. Spain is like, so much better in the off season. But that’s so exciting! What are you doing, how long will you be gone for?”

“It’s through my architecture major. I’m sure I’ll visit Madrid too at one point.” Sophie reached out and straightened Rafe’s collar, just for an excuse to touch him and stake some possession. “It’s for three months.”

“Three months...” She repeated, turning her attention to Rafe. “Are you going to be able to handle that?” Brooklyn laughed, glancing back at Sophie. “He was always so needy, isn’t he?”

“No. I haven’t noticed. We have a healthy relationship.” Sophie replied pointedly before Rafe could open his mouth. 

“Right, of course.” Brooklyn gave her a grin, like she was sharing a secret with Sophie and Rafe wasn’t literally in between them. “Give him time, it’ll show. You said you’ve only been together for four months, right? That’s like, so soon in the relationship. Like, Rafe and I -” 

Thankfully, the servers came to their table and interrupted them just as she was about to finish her sentence, and Sophie visibly relaxed as the speaker for the night started talking. Rafe leaned over and murmured in her ear. “I’m sorry, Soph.”

She just gave him a tight smile in response and turned her head, kissing his cheek chastely. Thankfully, the rest of the dinner was occupied by the guest speakers and left little room for side conversation, until the dance floor was opened up after the dessert. Sophie had limited herself to the single heavy pour of wine, while Brooklyn hadn’t held back and was clearly tipsy.

When the three stood after the last guest speaker, Brooklyn leaned into Rafe, giggling as she steadied herself on his extended arm. “Oops! Sorry. I’m kind of a lightweight.”

“Oh, I used to not be able to hold my liquor. In high school, I think.” Sophie couldn’t resist the dig and Rafe sent her a warning glance, taking her hand once Brooklyn was upright.

“Not all of us got blacked out at high school parties, Sophia, some of us had priorities.” Brooklyn told her pointedly, and Sophie only rolled her eyes. “But you’re in one of those trashy sororities, right? So I guess it makes sense.”

“Brooklyn, watch it.” Rafe cut in, sliding his arm protectively around Sophie’s waist. Sophie shook her head, keeping her eyes locked on Brooklyn’s. “It’s fine.”

“You could at least not be so obvious.” Brooklyn stated, taking a sip of her drink.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Sorry, it’s just.” Brooklyn gestured to Sophie, to her dress and shoes, and lowered her voice conspiratorially. “There’s more to like about him than just the money, you know? Open your eyes, Rafe, you’re being used.”

Sophie’s jaw dropped and she took a quick step forward without even processing all the words that Brooklyn had said. “I can’t believe -” Rafe grabbed her around the waist and stepped in front of her, in between her and Brooklyn. “Sophie, don’t.”

She glanced over Rafe’s shoulder at Brooklyn and her smug smile, then looked back to him with a pleading look. He shook his head, almost imperceptibly. “Meet me out in the hallway?”

She only relented when he kissed her quickly, trying to calm her down more. Sophie reached into the inside of his suit jacket and pulled out the keys, placing a possessive hand on his chest for a steadying breath. “Fine. I’ll be in the car.”

“Aw, you’re leaving? It was nice to meet you, Sophia!” Brooklyn shot her a grin and Sophie grit her teeth, giving Rafe another look again, but he turned her away with both hands on her shoulders. “Ignore her. I’ll talk to her. Go.”

He kept his eyes trained on her until she left the dining room, then turned to Brooklyn, his tone icy but quiet so they didn’t make a scene. “What the fuck was that?”

“Come on, Rafe.” Brooklyn shrunk back a little, pouting. “You’re telling me that’s all real? Seriously? She’s so stiff.”

“Yeah, because she was trying to be polite while you were nothing but rude all evening.” He shot back, arms folded. “I thought you could be civil and finally mature about this. I guess I was wrong.”

“You’re not serious.” She rolled her eyes and reached out for Rafe, only for him to flinch away from her touch. “I mean, look at her. You think she compares to me?”

“No. She’s miles beyond you. She’s so damn clever, she’s fucking gorgeous and she’s loyal as hell.” He paused, a wave of hurt flashing across his face. “Unlike you.”

That seemed to break Brooklyn and her shoulders slumped, face dropping. “Rafe, I...I didn’t mean to hurt you -”

“Am I wrong?”

“He initiated it -”

“Am. I. Wrong.” He spoke evenly, nose flaring.

She sighed quietly. “No.”

“Goddamn it.” Rafe exhaled, nodding once. “Okay. That’s all I needed. Don’t text me again.” He turned sharply on his heel, ignoring her call after him. He strode out to the parking lot and got in his car where Sophie waited in the passenger seat, letting the door slam shut behind him.

Sophie was about to start on an impassioned rant until she noticed his set jaw and tense shoulders, and she reached over, combing one hand through the hair at the nape of his neck. “You alright?”

“I love you. So fucking much. You know that?” He asked after a moment, pressing his head back into her palm.

“I do. I love you too.” She hesitated. “You don’t believe any of that, what she said. Right?”

“No, god, of course not.” He cracked a grin at her. “If you were with me for my money you’d have let me pay for your jewelry tonight.”

Sophie rolled her eyes, tugging teasingly on his hair. “I have perfectly fine jewelry, it’s ridiculous, not to mention unethical, for you to buy me a new something for every event -”

“I know, I know.” He laughed and leaned over to catch her lips in a kiss. “I’m kidding, baby. You look stunning, no matter what you’re in.”

“I could have taken her, you know.” She squared up in her seat and pretended to punch the air. “Two hits and she’d be out.”

Rafe shook his head, grinning. “I know, that’s exactly why I held you back. Remind me to not get on your bad side.”

“You’ve already been on my bad side.” She informed him, lightly punching his arm. “I think you’re in the clear for a while.”

“Just a while?”

“Yeah, I gotta keep you on your toes.” She paused, trying to gather her thoughts. “Is she - um, can I - do you have her blocked? I don’t want to overstep, but -”

“No, that’s a good idea. Go ahead.” He handed her his phone once it was unlocked, starting the car and backing out. “All of that was so fucked up, what she said.” He scowled. “And I promise I’ll take you to the Bahamas, it just felt early - I mean, I was nervous to even bring you to the Christmas party, much less family vacation, that’s unnecessary pressure for you -”

“You’re fine, Rafe.” She rested a reassuring hand on his thigh. “I promise. I don’t care about that. She was just trying to get under my skin.”

“I’m really sorry, I promise. I didn’t think she’d be that way or I would have just gone and switched tables with someone.” He frowned and stretched his arm out, resting it across the back of her seat. “She was so touchy.“

“I would have done something if she touched you again.” Sophie scowled, letting her head fall back against his arm. “I don’t like that.”

“Yeah? You jealous?” He resisted a grin, loving the way her nose scrunched up in the scowl.

“No, I know you’re mine.” She slid her hand up his thigh, squeezing once. “I just don’t like other girls flirting with you. It doesn’t feel right.”

“You’re the only one I want flirting with me for a long time.” He reassured her, sending her a smile. 

Sophie shoved his shoulder with a grin, shaking her head. “Cheesy.” 

“Yeah, and you love it.” 

“You know I do.” 

taglist: @whoeveniskendall @kkmaybank @karsinner @outerbanksbro @outerbankspreferences @randomficsandshit @sunshineitsfine44 @jailcalledlife @tovvaa @moniamaybank @illbesafeforyou @dontjinx-it @freddymaybank @jjmaybankzz @g4bster @oopsiedoopsie23

#rafe x sophie #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron #outer banks #obx fanfic #outer banks fanfic #rafe cameron x oc #college rafe #frat rafe #mine #WHY CAN I NEVER END MY FICS COHERENTLY #fuck that #whatever the rest is good

[mismess]

Jeremy went to pick up coffee.

Now Jeremy didn’t always drink coffee in the morning but this day he was asked to get some, so while he’s there he might as well indulge. He could use a boost of energy anyway.

So on his usual drive to work he took a small detour to a local coffee shop, he got two coffees, one medium roast with extra milk and sugar, one dark roast with milk and one sugar. He didn’t think to get more, he wasn’t told to get more so why would he?

This dark roast with milk and one sugar had to do with a call, a call he got early in the morning, around 6:30 am, which is too early and it probably woke up half the house, it was Scotty calling from work, Jeremy didn’t think Scott really registered what time it was, he sounded out of it, but still profusely apologized about his request for him to pick up coffee.

This leads back to a scene from earlier in the week, the coffee pot in the break room had been broken leaving the Fazbear employee’s caffeineless, which isn’t a problem for him but Scott seemed rather upset about it, he did recall him often having a cup in hand, might explain some of his jumpiness, perhaps Scott should cut back on the caffeine actually.

Just another unhealthy habit Jeremy thought to himself

But the thing is Scott almost NEVER asks anything of anyone, even if he probably should, so of course Jeremy agreed. He can’t turn down the one time he’s asked for something, even if it fueled that habit, it was the least problematic of them anyway.

So Jeremy picked up the coffee.

As he arrived at the pizzeria and walked inside, the main entrance opened up to a large open room, to the left were tables that costumers sat to eat pizza and watch the animatronic band perform, the flooring was black and white tile while the walls had star patterned wallpaper with colorful images of the band along on some of the walls, other walls had a few drawings from past costumers put up on display. To the right of the entrance he saw Fritz in their usual spot, in the prize corner near the games, while all their jobs were rather loose in nature and you simply go where you’re needed, that was their ‘main’ job, they take tickets and exchange them for prizes, Fritz was often leaving that post however to help a kid cheat at ski ball or something.

The place had been open for just around an hour, there was a couple of older kids lingering around on the arcade games but it was far from busy. Fritz didn’t take notice that Jeremy had arrived as they were messing with the little prizes behind the counter, such as the finger traps and those rubber poppers. He liked those poppers if he was being honest, and sometimes took one for his own enjoyment.

Jeremy walked past the prize corner and towards the break room, it always felt rude to talk to someone unless they were close enough to him, -what that distance was exactly he didn’t really know himself, depended on the mood and person-, or if said person directly talked to him first, and it felt silly to walk all the way up to someone just to say hello and turn away. So he stayed quiet. This sometimes labeled him as rude either way if someone expected a greeting and he didn’t supply.

He opened the break room door to find Scotty sitting at a table, slumped forward propping his head up with his hands while rubbing his temples with his thumbs, but when he heard the door he looked up, almost in a startled fashion, but that friendly crooked smile he always has on quickly replaced his nervous face.

Jeremy liked that crooked smile, it always leaned towards the right of his face, showing off his dimple on that side.

Underneath his smile however he looked tired, and it seemed like he just got more worn down with every day that went by. Scotty’s always been an overachiever when it came to work, he took long hours and probably did the equivalent of three people's jobs at the same time, but lately it seemed like it’s taken a toll on him. Jeremy’s tried to discourage this behavior in the past but that would usually just end with Scott finding a way to weasel his way out of those conversations.

There wasn’t much to the break room, it had a couple of plain tables strewn about with mismatched chairs surrounding them, a counter against the wall to the left of the entrance with a microwave sitting on it, the coffee pot formerly sat next to it as well, with a couple of cupboards above it that didn’t house much of anything besides a few cups, and at the end of the counter a fridge.

“I’m here.” Jeremy announced, giving him a quick smile

“Oh thank God! I have such a headache-” Scotty said as he shot out of his chair and walked over to Jeremy

Jeremy held out the dark roast with milk and one sugar to Scott

Scott took it and realized he wasn’t being very polite, “OH- Sorry, uh- Hello! How ya doing?” he asked, but quickly followed it up with another question “ Oh, how much was it?”

“Um. I’m fine. And you don’t have to worry about payment.” Jeremy reassured him

“Nonsense!” Scott said, reaching into his pocket “You are NOT paying for my addictions... Ah-!”

“- That’ll do!” Scott said while handing him a crumpled-up wad of spare change, just looking at it Jeremy could tell it was way too much for one dark roast with milk and one sugar.

Before Jeremy could say anything the break room door swung open again as Fritz walked in

“Ooooh, coffee!” Fritz said as they walked by Jeremy “Didn’t get me one~?” Fritz said in a tone that seemed playful, but Jeremy couldn’t quite tell if it was. He’s never been good at picking up tones very well.

“I didn’t know you wanted one, I’m sorry.” Jeremy said. He should have got more coffee, for everyone.

“Nah it’s ok, Jere, I’m joking, I’m sure Scotty called before I was even here.” Fritz said leaning on Scott’s shoulder while he sipped on his dark roast with milk and one sugar

“Wait a minute-” Jeremy started as he realized what time Scott really did call at “You did call from here right? Just how early did you get here?”

But before Scott was able to answer Fritz piped in instead "Dude, he’s BEEN here since 12 last night!” they gave Scott a friendly nudge, but as Scott pulled the coffee away from his mouth he gave out this nervous chuckle

“Wait- wait- Scott, you’re working the night shift?” Jeremy asked, he suddenly felt a sense of dread at the mention of it

“Um. Uh- Yeah, heh...” Scott said awkwardly

Jeremy hadn’t realized Scott had taken over the night shift, no wonder this man seemed more exhausted than usual.

“But you’re here during the day all the time!” Jeremy stated “Ok- Just how many double shifts do you take?”

“Uh- W-Whatever I’m a- asked..?” Scott said with a nervous grin, his shoulders raised up as if to brace himself, he put his coffee down on the table

“Scott-- God the night shift-- Do you LEAVE?”

“O- Of course! I can’t live here!”

“You say that like you would if you could!” Jeremy was obviously showing frustration in his voice, he didn’t mean to but the amount of work this man did stressed Jeremy out, and the night shift stressed him out even more

“Well- I mean- I’m not doing anything else anyway-” Scott started

“Well you should! Scotty you’re already working so many hours, do you sleep?! You have to realize this isn’t healthy-!” Jeremy was cut off by the break room door opening again

William stood in the doorway, his usual calm demeanor did not seem to be about him today, his brow furrowed and shoulders hunched in a manner unlike him “... What is going on in here?” he asked

“- Brought up Scott’s poor work-life balance, now the boys are fighting.” Fritz told him

William pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed “... Ok. I don’t care- There’s currently no employees out on the floor and a birthday party in an hour, can we stop the chit-chat and get things moving.” he snapped

“Yes, you’re right, William!” Scott quickly moved past William out the door on to the floor, obviously glad to find a reason to stop the conversation. William followed.

Jeremy took a deep breath as he watched him walk away “... You think Scotty works too much too, right?” he turned to Fritz, hoping he had an ally, fearing he might be coming off a little too overprotective.

“Oh definitely,” Fritz replied “He’s stubborn when it comes to work tho, you can’t get that guy to sit down. Seeing as you didn’t know he’s on the night shift I guess you haven’t seen his schedule, you should take a look, that thing is a MESS.”

Fritz walked out the door as well, leaving Jeremy alone with his medium roast with extra milk and extra sugar. He didn’t like the mood that was left hanging in this room, he felt bad for getting upset with Scotty, his problems wouldn’t improve just cause Jeremy got fussy with him. But Scotty always pushed these things aside, insisting they could “bring it up later” or “it’s not that bad” or simply just changing the subject, he didn’t know how to talk about it with him without getting fussy at this point.

It seemed like most of their recent conversations ended in frustration. Scotty grew a lot more distant after The Bite, and didn’t tell him about anything anymore, and if asked he would brush him off, he stopped having lunch with him or Fritz and usually spent most his time working or talking with William so any time for socializing was spent elsewhere. He missed his friend.

He didn’t want to just drop it but he didn’t know what more he could do, if Scotty didn’t want his help he can’t force him to talk to him or make him take less hours.

... The night shift...

Jeremy had sworn off the night shift after his first and only week on it, he didn’t like thinking about it, but the reason it was so bad was the animatronics weren’t right, they had something wrong with them, which is why they were scrapped. Those animatronics that seemed out for his blood weren’t in use anymore, and with them the problems of the night shift were gone. At least that’s what William said, Jeremy had no intentions of seeing that for himself, just the thought gave him anxieties.

But that means at least Scott would have the 6 hours to just sit down and relax, right?

He still didn’t think it was good, and Scott definitely should be taking more time off, but maybe Jeremy’s reaction was a bit unwarranted. He would apologize for his harsh tone when he got the chance.

Jeremy took both his medium roast with extra milk and sugar and the half-drunken dark roast with milk and one sugar and put them in the break room’s fridge, maybe they could drink them at lunch together later he thought.

and he got to work.

#What prompted this? idk. just wanted to write SOMETHING suddenly #jeremy fitzgerald #phone guy #fritz smith #fnaf #writing #can't even tell if i like this but I've put hours in it now so lmao HEEERRE <3 #scotty guy