#anyway she really rocks a blazer as we can all see | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shamera · 5 months

Text

NaNo day 17 part 2

...I was tempted to leave this for tomorrow and say 'hey look how much i wrote!' but this is meant to be a marathon and i'm supposed to be honest about these things anyway.

so warning for injuries and a canon character death. and, uh, bugs. this is all shaping up to something, i promise. all of this and like the next two days' writing is like chapter 1 in my head. also names and actions are liable to be changed in edit for continuity and flow, but this is nano so i'm just speedwriting and not looking back.

Stopping here because I'm tired, need sleep, and this weekend is going to be really busy. To be continued!

Everything happened quickly.

Wangfu was scouting ahead and coming back with a relieved expression when the floor (solid stone!) gave away underneath him unexpectedly, and he shouted in fear and confusion as he fell. Fang Duobing was after him immediately, falling to his knees to reach into the hole, attempting to grab him before he could slip away, but was too late to do so.

“Wangfu!” He shouted alongside Li’er’s panicked scream, but the young man disappeared before his eyes into the darkness, prompting Fang Duobing to fumble his phone as he shone the light down into the hole, seeing rocks and darkness all the way down. “Wangfu!”

A cool hand rested against his wrist, and he glanced to see Li Lianhua’s bloodied sleeve as the man knelt next to him.

“It’s not a direct drop.” He observed calmly, and pointed to the slant in the stone. “There’s a high chance he’ll be fine, but startled. We can go after him, although it would be the world’s worst slide. But with an already injured person…”

Fang Duobing bit the inside of his mouth in frustration. If they wanted to help Wangfu, then they’d have to split the party. If they didn’t split the party, then Wangfu would be left alone.

“We have to go get him!” Li’er insisted from where she was also on her knees next to the hole, her own phone shining a weak light into the darkness. “Wangfu! Are you alright? Answer us!”

“I’ll go.” Fang Duobing insisted, already struggling to take off his suit jacket and searching for an anchor point. There was no point in going if he couldn’t bring Wangfu back with him, and that meant finding a way back up as well. He was going to take care of all of them, and that meant he had to get them all back in one group. He glanced over to his aunt. “Your jacket. Everyone’s, if you can spare it. If we can use it as a rope…”

He Xiaofeng was already slipping off her blazer, having the same thought. “It won’t be very long. I should go down.”

“Your arm is injured.” Fang Duobing rejected the idea. “If he needs help, how will you carry him up?”

“I’ll go,” Li Lianhua volunteered, but once more Fang Duobing rejected the idea, this time with a firm grip on his wrist before he could do anything.

“I need you to help pull us up.” He looked at the others. “Everyone here who can do that will help. We can’t stay in one place for too long. If you hear something in the distance, just leave without us. I’ll catch up to everyone.”

“This is a stupid plan, Xiaobao,” His aunt told him, tone dark. She was pale under the dim light of the phones, the red of her lipstick unnaturally dark. “You can’t just—”

“It’s okay,” he insisted brightly. “I trained for this, remember? This is the kind of thing I need to be able to do if I want to join Baichuan Court.”

The others were also taking off their work blazers, but just as his aunt said, once the arms were tied together, the length of their makeshift rope wasn’t very long at all. Next to him, Li Lianhua had also pulled his sweater over his head, the pale knit a stark contrast to the rest of the clothes, the warm yarn frailer than the thick weave, and Fang Duobing found himself reluctant to take it, although he used it to tie around a rock, hoping it might receive the least amount of damage that way.

“Climb down,” Li Lianhua told him, and Fang Duobing realised he had ever seen the man without his thick sweaters, the thin long-sleeved shirt looking strange to his eyes. “If it goes even lower than that, then just come back up. Don’t be stupid about this, Fang Duobing.”

“I won’t.” He promised, and heard his aunt huff behind him. He turned to her. “Nothing will happen.”

“It better not,” she grumbled back, although there was tremor to her shoulders and a tension that belied her nonchalance. Her eyes were just a tad too wide, a trait Fang Duobing recognised in himself when he was overwhelmingly anxious. “What am I going to tell my sister if you disappear?”

Fang Duobing didn’t know how to respond, so instead he took a hold of their makeshift rope, and jumped down into the hole.

His feet hit stones almost immediately, and then his hip, and then it was just as Li Lianhua stated: the world’s worst slide. He lost a hold of the blazer sleeve he grabbed almost immediately, but the fall wasn’t as far as he feared. Even with the slant, he felt he had fallen perhaps five to seven meters, and was a great distance but not as bad as feared, even with the inevitable bruises all along his side from the jump.

He wheezed as the ground evened out again, and then called out, “I’m okay!”

A moment in the pitch blackness, and Fang Duobing pulled out his phone for a light again, frowning at the crack along his screen. At least it was still working properly.

Examining where he ended up, he found that the walls here were smooth unlike in the upper area, and there wasn’t enough space for him to stand, the space circular in its design, with the ground underneath him giving way slightly with each step. It wasn’t stone, he realised. He rested a hand against the ceiling, and then slid it down alongside the wall, frowning at the texture.

It felt like.. Clay. Smooth and malleable, although dry and firm.

“Wangfu?” He called out cautiously, phone pointed in one direction and then the next. There were only two directions to go, since he had fallen from above into this tunnel, and looking at it now, it looked like the tunnel was dug previously and then covered over before it could be used much.

Where he was standing, Fang Duobing realised with a shiver, was well worn. Used.

This was definitely a path taken by the monsters in this dungeon.

There was a skittering noise at the edge of his senses, and Fang Duobing whirled around to point the light in the direction of the sound, grabbing along the wall to brace himself. There was nothing in the light, and he turned again.

There was no Wangfu, either.

There were, however, indentations in the clay under him, where someone might have been dragged, and Fang Duobing followed it cautiously, heart rising to his throat as he pulled out a small wooden dagger from the back of his belt. It wasn’t a real weapon, but it was better than the nothing he had on him. The light from his phone was barely illuminating the darkness ahead of him, just far enough to see his hand through a thick fog, but the sounds of skittering were now growing closer than ever.

“Wangfu?” He called out again, although this time quieter.

There was no response, and no change in the sounds.

A turn in the path of the tunnel, and Fang Duobing shone his light around the bend to see—

Dozens.

Dozens of black forms, armoured, like pill bugs the size of cats if they had hundreds of legs like needles moving along the ground and with glowing eyes painted across their carapaces. Crawling over each other, over the walls, over the ceiling, atop each other like crowded rats, and

Atop a still form that was Wangfu, dripping blood and still twitching as one of the monsters carefully made itself at home within his torso, crawling right through—

Fang Duobing doesn’t remember his yelling, doesn’t remembering charging in with only a wooden dagger, but there was sharp needle-like points of pain on his legs as the monsters turned from their prey to swarm toward him instead, even as he stabbed them as well as he could between the ridges of their carapaces, as he would take down one and then another and another, but they would each be replaced two to three more each time. His legs felt like fire with a sea of pinpricks, and they were starting to drop down onto his head as well, and he was—

Yanked back violently by his shirt, and then a storm of fire blazed past him, singeing the edge of his ponytail as he was dragged backward amidst the deafening shrieks of the monsters as they burned. They burned, but Wangfu would burn with them, and Fang Duobing struggled against the grip, blood running down his legs from the needle holes in his pants, but the grip was stronger than he was.

“Stop.” Li Lianhua’s voice broke him out of the haze of rage. “Use your brain a little, Fang Duobing!”

The tunnel wasn’t big enough for two people, yet Li Lianhua, who would normally hoist his own groceries on Fang Duobing to make him carry it, was pulling him back strongly enough to keep them both out of the spreading fire. As the smoke and heat spread, Fang Duobing realised it was starting to get hard to breathe.

The haze through his mind broke entirely at that, and he turned against Li Lianahu’s surprising grip, this time dragging the other man along with him and he raced half hunched toward the hole they dropped down from, pushing him forward ahead of him to get him up, to safety away from the monsters and away from the spreading fire and smoke.

Li Lianhua stumbled a moment, but followed Fang Duobing’s urging as they struggled back upward in the slide down, catching themselves against the sides and on rocks before they could slip downward again, all the way until Li Lianhua managed to catch the end of the rope of blazers, and pull himself up with Fang Duobing following along behind him.

When they reached the main cavern again, the heat behind them was starting to get unbearable, and it was Li’er and Man’er’s young man who pulled them out by the arms, dragging them away from the hole as they coughed.

“What happened?” He Xiaofeng demanded, but was interrupted as Li’er tearfully asked, “Where’s Wangfu?”

Fang Duobing could only look at her sadly once he regained his breath, and then shook his head slowly.

Li Lianhua, collapsed next to him, was still coughing, although his coughs were luckily enough dry ones, even as Fang Duobing’s aunt knelt next to him in concern, a hand on his back as he tried to get his breathing under control. It was only after when He Xiaofeng stared over at her nephew and startled.

“Xiaobao,” she breathed out and reached out to him. “You’re bleeding!”

He shook his head in response, the pain in his legs growing to a sharp throb that echoed his heartbeat.

“A mild,” Li Lianhua said between coughs, “paralytic poison. He’ll— he’ll be fine after some time. He’s a Hunter.”

The unsaid part, Fang Duobing heard, was that Wangfu as a civilian never stood a chance.

“But how was there a fire?” Man’er asked weakly from where she had been settled against a wall, her leg resting in front of her. “What poison? How did you get those wounds?”

“There were monsters down there.” Fang Duobing said, and then pushed himself into a sitting position. His legs ached with the movement, and he hissed. “A lot of them. Wangfu didn’t—”

“He’s down there?” Li’er asked tearfully. “But… he’ll burn!”

“He was already gone,” Li Lianhua told her.

She shook her head, hands tight around the rope of blazers. Li’er dipped her head, and then cried quietly, shuddering sobs that shook her shoulders each second as the shadows from her hair hid her face from their view.

Fang Duobing ducked his head, tears filling his own eyes upon the realisation of just how badly he messed up. He hadn’t managed to save Wangfu at all. He just injured himself when he needed to protect everyone, and now…

His aunt’s hand tightened his arm, and he looked up to see her determined gaze.

“You tried,” she said quietly. “And that’s what mattered. You did your best, Xiaobao. You got Physician Li out of there as well. I’ll take care of the fights.”

He untensed his shoulders, and gave a slow nod. Then he slid his hand across the stone floor and tucked the wooden dagger back into his belt where the familiar weight of it brought comfort. He would think about all of this later, when they were safe again.

Except Li Lianhua was still coughing, at a lesser rate now but still hunched over trying to catch his breath, and Fang Duobing reached out in alarm as the man curled up into his coughs.

“I’m fine,” Li Lianhua tried to wave him off, but his voice was a wheeze.

“Then can we get the crystals from the monsters below us?” The young man who carried Man’er asked hesitantly. “They’re… they’re dead, right? In the fire?”

There were indeed dozens of monsters from what Fang Duobing had seen, but the idea of going back into the burning tunnel was…

“You’re free to go into the fire,” his aunt snapped. “See if you can bring those crystals back!”

The man paled. “I didn’t mean…”

“Then don’t suggest that!” She said tersely.

Li Lianhua raised a hand from where he was still curled over on the ground, revealing his singed sleeve and reddened skin. He gave another cough into his shirt, and then opened the hand to reveal a shine on his palm. He Xiaofeng gasped and reached for his hand immediately.

“It’s not enough for everyone,” Li Lianhua rasped, but even Fang Duobing was moving over in amazement. Four tiny, purple shards of crystal no bigger than a tiny pearl each lay within his hands. “That’s how many I could grab before… well.”

Fang Duobing despaired at not doing the same himself, at being so focused on killing the monsters that he hadn’t reached into the flesh to grab at their means to escape.

“Four,” his aunt marvelled and then stared hard at the group who was looking over with hope in their eyes. “One for Man’er. And Li’er, and Xiaobao and Physician Li. I’ll stay behind with…?”

The young man looked ready to protest, his face running a gamut of emotions before collapsing entirely in despair. “...Bei Yun.”

“I’ll stay with Yun’er.” He Xiaofeng declared. “We’ll be along right behind you.”

“No,” Fang Duobing insisted to his aunt. “I’ll stay. The others should go, they can’t fight.”

There was a nagging thought in his mind, and he stared over at each of the people in the darkness.

“And just what do you think you’re going to do, injured like that?” His aunt demanded. “Look at yourself! Xiaobao, you look like you’ve been mauled!”

His legs certainly felt like they’d been mauled, but were also getting more numb by the second. If the pain faded, then he could certainly use his legs again.

Li Lianhua pursed his lips, looking like he needed to stay something, yet ultimately stayed quiet. Instead, he handed the shards to a surprised He Xiaofeng with a smile, and then moved carefully closer to Fang Duobing, who had most of his weight supported on his arms despite already sitting down, bloodied legs in front of him.

“You need to patch your wounds up,” Li Lianhua told him. “Even if the poison doesn’t affect you, you’ll bleed out if you just leave this.”

“It’s fine,” Fang Duobing tried to brush off lightly. “None of them are deep!”

“You don’t need deep cuts to bleed out,” Li Lianhua responded drily. “The others will figure out what to do with the return crystals. Hunters aren’t immune to blood loss.”

That was true. Hunters gifted with any sort of healing abilities were incredibly rare, and most could only heal themselves. Only the top sects in the world could afford to have a healer waiting at their base. Fang Duobing heard of two in Korea, one in Russia, and three more in the west.

This meant that casualty rates for Hunters were high enough that his family refused to allow him to become one on paper.

“We need to get the injured people out and move,” Bei Yun was saying nervously. “If I have to stay…”

“Just a minute,” Li Lianhua interrupted without looking back at the man. “There’s no guarantee that you’ll be safe immediately when you get out. Just because there will be no more monsters after you doesn’t mean you won’t land back in a collapsing building, or have panicked people trampling over you. Injuries need to be taken care of now where it’s safe. We have the crystals, you can leave any moment. If we’re hunted down, then you can escape even at the last second.”

To Fang Duobing, he said, “Your pants are a lost cause.”

Fang Duobing grimaced, flushing in embarrassment, but agreed. With dozens upon dozens of holes and nearly soaked in blood, there was definitely nothing that could be done with those pants anymore. “It doesn’t matter. We don’t have bandages anyway. Can’t I just… tie it up or something?”

“Just who do you take me for?” Li Lianhua asked and then shifted to reveal the shoulder bag he carried with him. “Am I a physician or not?”

With that, he rummaged through the canvas bag and pulled out two rolls of gauze, as well as a tiny bottle of antiseptic that Fang Duobing hadn’t realised he had with him.

“I don’t know if I’ll have enough,” Li Lianhua admitted. “This wasn’t the type of situation I prepared for.”

“You didn’t reveal that with Man’er?” Fang Duobing asked with round eyes.

“You already had the fabric. Why waste this when you already made bandages? If her injury ended up being the only thing that happens here, then we’d have been blessed by the gods.”

Thankfully, his bespoke leather shoes were enough to prevent most injuries, although his suit pants had to be ripped under the knee, much to Fang Duobing’s dismay and embarrassment. He stammered questions that Li Lianhua answered with amusement and looked away, his face so warm he felt he must have a fever. Even the spray of antiseptic was barely felt over the numbness below his skin, and the way Li Lianhua worked deftly to wrap his wounds up tightly.

It barely took a minute or so, and Fang Duobing was able to stand once again afterward, albeit with a limp as his legs were a tingle of sensation that didn’t feel real. He frowned down at the white gauze over his skin, tempted to hit his own legs to see if he could feel it.

“Don’t overdo it,” Li Lianhua told him, holding on to his elbow. “You have a natural immunity to things in dungeons, but that doesn’t mean they can’t debilitate you.

Fang Duobing tapped his foot lightly against the ground and felt it was good enough to walk on. Now to see if the others made any progress on who was going to stay and who was leaving.

Scanning the rest of the group over, it was easy to see that had come to no decision at all.

Man’er sat against a wall with a crystal fragment in her hand, clutching it tightly as she stared at the others, while He Xiaofeng held the remaining three fragments, arguing with both Li’er and Bei Yun over something entirely insignificant.

“We could all be home by now!” Li’er exclaimed, the tear tracks on her face clear of the grime that accumulated from the smoke earlier. She looked miserable and scared, with her torn dress and wrapped wrist, her normally professionally pinned braids around her head having dropped so now she looked like a young girl with pigtails playing at being an adult.

“All?” He Xiaofeng argued back. “Who is this ‘all’ you’re referring to? You would really leave my nephew and Physician Li behind? Are you that kind of person?”

“Yes!” Li’er burst out in a sob. She raised her hands to cover her eyes miserably. “I’m not brave and I don’t know how to fight! If I stay, I’ll only get in people’s way! If I go, I can tell the sects where you are, describe this area…”

“And what are you going to say?” He Xiaofeng yelled. “They’re somewhere dark? A cave? Big, blank space in the middle of nowhere, perhaps? That will surely help them find us!”

At that, Li’er burst out into tears again, crying Wangfu’s name between her sobs and even He Xiaofeng looked startled and a little regretful of her words. Fang Duobing couldn’t help but feel terrible looking at her. He knew that she and Wangfu had joined the company together, worked as interns together and both celebrated when they got permanent positions at Tianji Hall. They chose to work in the same department, and he saw them daily. They were both happy, bright people whose personalities complimented each other. For Li’er, she just lost her best friend.

If he had been— faster, more decisive, if he hadn’t waited for to tie their clothes together as a rope and just jumped down after him—

Wangfu might have made it out alive.

There was a moment of awkward silence between them before Li Lianhua interjected gently, “She’s right. It’s best for her to leave first. Dungeons are difficult at the best of times, and for people with years of training. Li’er has done her best, and pushing her more would only be detrimental. I can stay longer, I’m good at running away and hiding if something comes near.”

At those words, Fang Duobing gripped onto his wrist tightly, above the burnt skin where Li Lianhua snatched the crystals out from the fire, the burns which Li Lianhua hadn’t treated at all despite treating Fang Duobing’s wounds.

“Physician Li…” Li’er wilted under the words, shoulders slumping into a miserable curve in the dim lighting. “I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologise,” Li Lianhua said even as he shook off Fang Duobing’s grip without looking in his direction. “I volunteered.”

He Xiaofeng’s previous anger faded to concern, her pout clearly visible even in the low light of the phones, and the slant of her mouth turned downward to a reluctant acceptance. She wrung her hands together and said, “Don’t worry, Physician Li. I’ll keep you safe.”

Fang Duobing had to interject at this point, “No, I’m staying. I’m a Hunter, and you and Li Lianhua are both injured—”

His speech was interrupted by pitched screeching echoing around them, creatures drawn to the noise of their argument and the scent of blood that followed them. The walls seemed to shake with the sounds, prompting both Li’er and Man’er to cover their ears and tuck their head down, the light of their phones shining wildly at the movement.

He Xiaofeng moved immediately, tucking a shard of crystal into Li’er’s palm and urging her, “Take Man’er and go, now! We’ll figure the rest out later, but you go and keep her safe!”

Li’er gave her a grateful look and then raced over to Man’er, skidding down painfully on her knees before grabbing onto Man’er’s arm and then they were both gone in an instant as if they had never been there at all.

Bei Yun stood stunned, spurred into action only when Li Lianhua grabbed at Fang Duobing’s elbow to urge him, “Go! Now!”

They ran aimlessly, and Bei Yun gasped out between steps, “If you’re all volunteering to stay, please let me go! I’m like Miss Li and I can’t be of any help, I’m no good at running or hiding either, if I stay, I’d just die! Please!” He reached forward to pull at He Xiaofeng’s shoulder, prompting her to give a painful gasp as the movement jerked on her injured arm and had her crashing down mid-step while running.

#NaNoWriMo #mlc nano 2023 #every time you guys interact with these posts I get new motivation to write #otherwise I would have blow off tonight to play video games #but I sat down! watched some mlc videos to get into the groove! and vroooom #i think that makes like 7k words today together maybe

4 notes · View notes

mypoisonedvine · 3 years

Text

𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖈𝖊 I || professor!helmut zemo x reader

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞 : history is so much more interesting when he’s teaching it. you’d better be careful before the two of you end up with a history of your own.

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙 : 6k

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 : smut (incl. semi-public sex in an office and oral f receiving), significant age gap (reader is 20, zemo is 39; it isn’t actually mentioned though but it comes up in the next part), the slightest bit of angst?, nearly pwp at this point lol

You wouldn’t know it by the way you were enraptured with his lecture, but you weren’t even a history major.

Quite far from it, really, well outside of the college of liberal arts, and yet here you were in the front row, watching him gesture over a large map of Western Europe while he explained the sociocultural impacts of the Treaty of Versailles.

It was probably pretty obvious why you took such interest in all this, though. After all, you were the only one who dressed as well as he did, your blazers and skirts and loafers standing out amongst a sea of hoodies and sweats and flip-flops; and, you were the only one who paid close attention and yet never seemed to be taking any notes…

Why would you, after all? Looking away to write in your notebook would mean missing out on all the fun, and unfortunately you had found that when you copied down the words he spoke, his accent was not retained in writing.

Some kid in the back of the class had asked about his accent the first day; you thought it was kind of a rude question, if you were being honest, but he didn’t seem to mind too much (if perhaps a bit surprised that anyone cared). He explained he was from a small country called Sokovia, but that his accent was a bit unique since he spoke Russian, German, Spanish, and Italian as well.

Because of course he did. Like he was specifically designed to target all your weaknesses.

“Well, I could talk about that for the rest of the evening but I’ll spare you all and let you out a bit early today, how does that sound?” Professor Zemo offered. The other students weakly cheered, a few claps here and there as you heard binders shutting and backpacks being zipped, but you were disappointed. You didn’t want to go back to your dorm, all you were going to do there was think about him anyways.

Damn, I’ve really got it bad, you thought to yourself, shaking your head as you stood up and gathering your things, slinging your bag over your shoulder. You glanced up at the podium where another student was chatting with Professor Zemo, and either he said something really funny or she was trying way too hard to flirt with him. You rolled your eyes, irritated by the display and yet envious of her audacity to just go up there and talk to him. Imagine having a crush and actually being able to look them in the eye and hold a conversation; you could barely do that with people you didn’t happen to find attractive.

Just as you were about to make it out the door, you heard your name and spun around. You were shocked to realize it was the Professor trying to get your attention. If only you’d thought to pretend you hadn’t heard him.

“Could I speak with you for a moment?” he requested, motioning you over with two curled fingers. With a swallow and a nod, you stepped out of the flow of students exiting into the hallway and approached the desk at the front of the room.

“What is it?” you asked.

“I just wanted to discuss your most recent paper, if you have some time,” he explained, and your heart sunk. Of course it was garbage, you’d written the whole thing last minute during a near-all-nighter. “I still have the copy you turned in here in my bag.”

“Right, of course— sure,” you nodded. By now the classroom was empty spare for the two of you, your words echoing slightly; presumably that was intentional, since these places were built for acoustics, but it made you worry you’d have to hear whatever criticism he had for you multiple times.

He pulled out the slightly-wrinkled paper and took his glasses off of his vest to wear (fuck, did he have to wear the glasses, just to personally attack you?) as he glanced over the top page before folding it over the staple.

“This essay,” he continued, “it’s—”

Ridiculous. Idiotic. A blight on humanity and a waste of printer ink.

“Fascinating,” he finished, surprising you. “After I read it, I searched your student profile on my office computer—”

You gulped, trying not to take that as a compliment.

“I’m looking at your information and I’m seeing you aren’t even a history major— is this a mistake, when it says your major is computer science?”

“No, that’s my major,” you nodded.

“Well, that’s a shame,” he decided, “because you have some really interesting ideas in here, clearly you must have studied history before.”

“I mean, not really,” you shrugged. “I didn’t even care that much about history until, you know, you...r class,” you finished quickly, realizing it sounded too odd otherwise.

And that smile, the way he looked down at the floor suddenly, was he blushing? “Thank you. I’m always… glad to inspire.”

If only you knew everything you’d inspired in me, Professor.

“If you didn’t care about history, what would motivate you to register for an honors history seminar?” he asked suddenly.

“Well…” you trailed off, reaching up to scratch the back of your neck as you dodged his gaze.

“It couldn’t possibly be because I’m teaching it,” he realized.

“I came to your talk last year, the one you did about the Sokovian civil war,” you finally admitted, letting out a lungful of air as you said it and looking up at him sheepishly.

“Ah,” he nodded, “yes, that might make a bit more sense. But we still haven’t found the real reason, have we?” His eyebrow raised slightly and you felt like he was toying with you— but you liked it, the shiver that ran up your spine made that obvious. “Because the question remains of what would possess a computer science student to take time out of her busy schedule on a Friday night— if I recall the night correctly— to listen to some stuffy visiting scholar talk about a bloody war in a country she may not have even heard of before.”

“My friend brought me,” you defended.

“Under what guise?” he pressed.

“She… may have mentioned something about… a cute professor with a sexy accent…” you stammered, cringing slightly as you spared a glance back up at him. He was staring back at you with the most bewildering expression. His eyes said ‘you thought I was cute?’, and yet his smile said ‘I knew it.’

“You must’ve been horribly disappointed when I took the stage,” he finally replied, voice a bit lower, softer, not echoing around the room anymore.

“Not at all,” you returned, almost below your breath now, and suddenly you became very aware that you were standing too close to him, but you couldn’t move away, you couldn’t even look away anymore. “I’m here, aren’t I? Taking your class?”

“And you make it nearly impossible to focus, did you know that? I swear your eyes never leave me, I can feel them on me. It’s quite unfair, because I can’t stare back at you no matter how much I want to.”

Just as you looked down at his lips and back up to his eyes, which seemed to be following a similar pattern on your own face, just when you thought this might be it and you were about to do something you really shouldn’t (but really wanted to), you heard the door open behind you and you spun around so fast you nearly hurt your neck.

“Oh,” the man in the doorway mumbled, apparently surprised to see you enough to nearly drop the papers tucked under his arm. “I’m teaching the next class in here— Honors History of Islam?”

“Professor Waters, yes, my apologies,” Zemo nodded, “we were just… our discussion ran a bit long, we’ll get out of your way.”

You and Zemo awkwardly gathered your things and made a dash for the door as the older professor took his place at the podium. Once the two of you were out in the hall, you let out a sigh and gave each other a glance, like you were each waiting for the other to either acknowledge or ignore what had just (almost) happened.

“I have my next class across campus in a half hour,” he remembered suddenly, lifting his arm and pulling back the brown sleeve of his coat to look at his watch.

“Right, you should… get to that,” you nodded.

“Walk with me?” he proposed, and you hoped your smile wasn’t as beaming as it felt.

“I’d love to.”

So maybe you ended up skipping your evening class to sit in the back of his History of England course. And, perhaps, he ended that one early, too, this time to buy you coffee at the student center; and your discussion ended up going on so long that the coffee shop closed and you had to go to his office to finish the conversation.

But, in a certain sense, it could be argued that you never really got a chance to finish that conversation after all… because a few moments after he shut the door to his office, you, for lack of a better term, jumped his bones.

“Fuck,” he mumbled against your lips as you pulled him closer by his jacket, “we can’t do this.”

You nodded, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. “Mhm, yeah, you’re right,” you agreed breathlessly.

His hands took their place at your waist as you both stepped back, the back of your legs bumping into his desk which you jumped up slightly to sit on.

“I mean, we really can’t do this,” he continued, kissing your neck instead now while your legs wrapped around his hips, your skirt riding up slightly, your fingers fumbling with the buttons on his collar. “I want to, overwhelmingly so, but we can’t.”

“I know,” you sighed; your head fell back when his teeth grazed over your pulse, and his hand was right there to catch it and hold it up, gripping the back of your neck.

“This absolutely cannot happen,” he groaned when your legs pulled him closer, something hard and hot pressing up against your thigh through his trousers and you were really hoping it wasn’t just his cell phone.

Then he rocked his hips, just barely, and you felt the outline of the ridge of his head and it was definitely not his phone unless he had the most suggestively-shaped phone case of all time. You gasped and grabbed his face to kiss him again, shamelessly desperate now, weaving your fingers into the hair just above the back of his neck.

By now you had managed to get a few of his buttons open so when you slid your fingers down from time to time, they ran over his chest and the patch of dark blonde hair there. Funny enough, you couldn’t remember having any strong opinions on chest hair before this afternoon, but now you felt your walls fluttering around nothing.

He helped you shed your blazer just before tossing his own coat aside, never breaking the kiss, holding your face gently while he pushed you down to lay on his desk— he reached behind you to clear a few stray papers out of the way first.

Your back hit the glossy wood and his weight pinned you down, rough hands sliding up your legs and under your skirt as you tried to push your hips up for more friction where you needed him most.

He pushed your hips back down, not too roughly but definitely enough to get your attention, before sliding his hands up your skirt again where he toyed with the hem of your panties.

You wanted to say something, more specifically you wanted to beg him to touch you, but you had this fear that if you spoke now it would all become real and he would stop because, as he had so poignantly noted, this can’t happen. And both of you knew that… so maybe it would be easier to let it happen if neither of you really acknowledged it.

Luckily, he didn’t tease you too long, reaching under the fabric and swiping the rough pads of his fingers over your slickened folds. You choked on your gasp, accidentally digging your nails into his shoulders when he drew delicate circles around your clit. All at once, he suddenly pushed those fingers right inside you and your back arched; you needed so much more than just his fingers but the way they twisted and curled against your walls was nearly perfect as well.

They didn’t stay long, quickly pulling back as you watched him quickly open his trousers just before you felt the head of him pushing up to your entrance.

His eyes met yours, dark with need, yet somehow clearly asking you for permission, making sure this was what you wanted: and fuck, you wanted it more than anything. The moment that you nodded, he began to push forward— slow and deliberate, but unyielding.

Perhaps as a perfect healthy college student in a male-dominated major, you had no real excuse for it to have been so long since you’d had sex. As you liked to put it: dating as a woman in computer science means the odds are good but the goods are odd. Truth be told, you weren’t sure at this point if having had sex any time in the past year would’ve prepared you for him anyway. It felt like he was forging a new path inside you— certainly a wider one than anyone else ever had since he was so thick.

With his hips fully seated against yours, the tip of his cock just reached the end of you, just barely brushed over those sensitive spots you didn’t even know you had before.

It stung a bit to be filled this thoroughly, so it was no wonder you were biting down on your lip hard enough to bruise it, your fingers clutching at his shirt tightly.

“Am I hurting you?” he whispered, finally breaking the silence, voice strained like he was struggling just as much as you were (though in an entirely different way).

“A little,” you admitted. “Please don’t stop.”

He groaned a few curses as he started to move back, and forth, and so slow you could hardly stand it.

“Fuck,” you breathed, “oh my god, harder, please…”

A little smile crossed his face, a sharp exhale almost like a laugh, and it made your cheeks burn even hotter than they already were. But, he obeyed, regardless, more aggressive in his movements yet not any faster as he held your hips to keep you from sliding across the desk’s glossy wood surface.

Your moans were starting to echo around the office’s beige walls at this point, and he snarled as he bit down on your neck. “You need to stay quiet,” he hissed in your ear. “Can you do that for me? Can you stay quiet even when I’m making you feel so good?”

“I-I’m trying,” you whimpered, “your cock is… so deep…”

“Oh, I know,” he cooed, voice heavy with faux pity, “poor thing, you can’t take it?”

“No!” you yelped. “I can take it! Please, please don’t stop.”

“I won’t have to if you stay quiet, darling, we can’t have somebody hearing you now can we?” he chuckled, licking and sucking at your pulse point as your eyes rolled back in your head. “We can’t have somebody hearing you cry for me, and coming in here, and seeing you laying on my desk getting fucked by your professor, right?”

What the hell was wrong with you that that idea actually turned you on? Why did it actually make you want to moan louder until everyone could hear you?

And when his cock speared right against that spongy spot inside you, you did exactly that and he had to suddenly clamp his hand down over your mouth.

“Fuck,” he growled, “you’re going to get us both in trouble.”

Your attempts at apologies were totally incomprehensible with his hand over your mouth, not that they were likely to have made much sense either way.

Blinking your eyes shut, your legs began to quiver slightly as he rutted into you, your toes curling inside your loafers. You felt so full you could hardly stand it, stretched so wide that you were forced to feel every detail of his cock as it filled you. Already your walls were bearing down on him; you couldn’t help it, it was like your body was just his instrument now and instinct had taken control of your movements.

His accent was definitely stronger now as he whispered in your ear, praising you gruffly. You knew from the beginning that you loved high marks and encouragement from your teachers, but this… this was different, and you hadn't known how much it would affect you.

"Good girl," he breathed, "you're taking me so well, draga, you feel so perfect around me."

You whined from behind his hand and he chuckled at your obvious neediness.

"You like making me feel good, darling?" he presumed, his smile pressing against your neck between nipping kisses to your pulse point. "You like knowing that I can barely take this tight cunt gripping me so well, that I'm already addicted to your precious body and want to fill it with my seed?"

With your eyes rolling back in your head you nodded feverishly, heavy in your state of total delirium as he pumped his cock deep into you over and over.

You reached up to try to pull his hand away from your mouth, and he met your gaze with fire in his eyes.

“If I take my hand away, will you be good?” he challenged, and you nodded feverishly. He was a bit hesitant but slowly moved his hand down, and though you did have to keep biting your lip, you managed to restrain yourself.

Every drag of the ridge of his head inside you was somehow more intense than the last, somehow hitting right at your spot and it was like each rough thrust knocked his name out of your mind and onto your lips until you were chanting it like a prayer, or a plea.

And each time you said it, he fucked you harder, snarling and whispering your name back to you a few times, in between little praises; "Beautiful," he mumbled, "such a sweet little girl… such a perfect cunt."

“I— fuck, I’m gonna—” you stammered your warning.

“Will you come for me?” he finished for you, and you nodded quickly.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you hissed.

It was obvious just by the build-up that you were going to come hard, pleasure tightening in your core until you were sure that it would spill over but it just kept going, making you wonder if it would ever reach the breaking point.

And oh boy did it, it slammed into you in fact, and your legs quivered as you struggled for air. He growled in your ear, fucking you harder through it all, stroking every place that had only become even more sensitive. The moment you could form words again, you were wasting the ability on a string of swears and promises you couldn’t keep.

“Yours, fuck, it’s yours,” you sobbed. He chuckled a little, pulling back to examine your face which must have given away how fucked-out and cockdrunk you were already.

“Say it again,” he demanded darkly, holding you tighter, fucking you a bit more deliberately though not any less aggressively.

“Yours,” you gasped, cut off by a rough and dominating kiss. Your moans were lost to his tongue but he didn’t need them to know you were coming, the way your body gripped him tighter than ever was sign enough.

“So good,” he whispered against your lips, “you’re doing so good for me…”

His words washed over your skin and soothed you like a salve, bringing some relief from the overwhelming feelings his body was assaulting yours with.

All things considered, he was still moving rather slowly, each of his thrusts measured and patient, and never really changing speed even as you were coming around him. Weak little cries fell from your throat each time his hips met yours and the tip of his cock kissed the deepest parts of you.

Your body went limp in his arms and you hadn't noticed before how good it felt for him to hold you, for his strong hands to support you like it was nothing. His thumb gently stroked your back through your shirt and you mewled weakly into his shoulder.

"So good, draga, so fucking good," he mumbled, holding you closer.

"Please… faster," you whimpered, "I want you to come."

"Is that what you want?" he taunted, ignoring the way you nodded immediately. "You want to make me come, darling?"

"Yes, please, want it so much," you gasped.

He finally sped up, though it was still nothing like the lightning-speed jackhammering you were used to from guys your age: it was better, certainly, especially when he lifted your leg onto his shoulder and pushed so deep you saw stars.

The second one seemed to hit you all at once, almost out of nowhere, and you heard yourself mumble, “Professor, I’m coming.” It sounded a bit pitiful, the way you said it, but he apparently didn’t mind as you felt him nod encouragingly in the crook of your neck.

You felt totally drained by now, exhausted even though all you’d been doing was lying there and taking it, but you knew he wasn’t done with you yet. But, if the way his thrusts were becoming more desperate and erratic were anything to go by, he might be done with you soon.

"I'm going to come inside you," he groaned against your ear. You were, like, 99.9% sure that if you told him not to, he would pull out, but the way that he phrased it, like a demand, like you didn't have a choice and he would do it either way… it had an effect on you, one he noticed when your channel tightened around him instantly. "Oh, you like that idea, hm? You want to be full of my come? Your sweet little cunt is already trying to milk every drop from me."

"Yes," you breathed, "fuck, I want your come in me, please!"

He sped up quite a bit then, each slam of his hips into yours making you choke on a whine, your arms weakly clinging onto him for dear life.

You could feel his cock swelling, flexing, pushing your body to its limits as he moaned lowly through his teeth, streams of come making you feel warm and full.

He didn't stop until every drop was in you, thrusting in time with each pump of his release until he slowed to a stop.

Strands of hair fell into his face as he hung his head, panting hard and fast. You melted back onto the desk, realizing this might be the first time in a solid half hour your back wasn’t arched.

It was a bit of a struggle to keep your eyes open against the heavy fog of afterglow that filled your mind; you couldn’t remember the last time you felt so… satiated. As a college student, you were always thinking about the next assignment, mentally re-evaluating your calendar, or preparing for something— and usually all on less than six hours of sleep.

But now your mind was as close to a blank slate as it had been in at least a decade. Even though you probably should’ve been, you weren’t even thinking about the potential consequences of this, the implications, the risks. No, you were just staring up at him, thinking about kissing him again.

He would have to lean down for that, though; there was no way you were going to sit up now.

You hadn't even noticed that you had closed your eyes, almost falling asleep right there on his desk, until you felt his hand cradle your face softly, a calloused thumb rubbing over your cheek.

In unison, the both of you sighed deeply.

As much as it felt like a real effort, you blinked open your eyes and looked up at him, watching him comb his fingers through his hair. It only messed up the style even further yet he looked better than ever.

He slowly moved his hips back, leaving you annoyingly empty, and readjusted himself until he almost looked put together again… but his collar was still uneven and his lips still looked bitten and there was still that precious pinkish hue on his cheeks. If anyone else saw him in this state, they’d either know what happened between you two or think he’d just run across campus or something.

If anyone else saw him in this state, you’d be a little jealous, to be totally honest.

You got back to work trying to right your appearance as well, though you knew the best you could hope for was only mildly presentable; he looked at you like you’d never looked better, though.

“Well, this was fun,” you chuckled breathlessly, “but it’s getting pretty late and I have an eight a.m. tomorrow…”

“Yeah, so do I,” he nodded, glancing away.

You picked up your bag from where you’d dropped it by the door, lifting the strap over your shoulder and starting to turn to leave.

"I… I should walk you back to your dorm," he announced, making you smile.

"That's sweet, but save your chivalry. I can take care of myself just fine."

"But—"

"I think it's safer if we're not seen together walking together by my dorm," you interjected, "especially when I'm walking a little funny…"

"I hope I didn't hurt you," he winced sympathetically.

"No, trust me, that was… exactly what I needed," you breathed. He smiled a little, looking down at the floor.

"Then I'll see you in class," he nodded, watching you closely as you stepped back and picked up your bag, starting to leave his office with one last small wave goodbye. “Wait, wait!” he whispered harshly just before you could let go of his door, and you giggled as he leaned out into the hall and glanced around to make sure no one was nearby.

When he confirmed the coast was clear, he smiled and grabbed your face with one hand, pulling you into a sudden kiss. And you smiled too— you couldn’t help it— as you kissed him back, almost ready for him to drag you back into that office and start this all over again. He did let you go, though, with one more whispered ‘goodnight’ and a look that made your heart do little somersaults.

As you finally did make your way back to your dorm, you tried to figure out if that was a goodbye kiss or a ‘see you soon’ kiss. Or maybe a ‘thanks for the one-time office quickie’ kiss? But you didn’t know enough about this sort of thing to know if that was even an option.

All you did know was that you really hoped it wasn’t the last kiss you’d have with him.

Can I speak to you in my office today after class? Thank you.

-Z

You may ask yourself: can one simple email, in only thirteen words, strike fear into the hearts of those who read it? And the answer is yes, assuming that email is from Professor Helmut Zemo and read by the lovestruck student who slept with him two days ago and hasn't stopped thinking about it since.

Only one of a few things could happen in his office after class, and there was a massive gap between the best and worst case scenarios. You dressed for the best but prepared yourself psychologically for the worst.

You caught him staring as you walked past the teaching podium to your seat in the front; you just hoped nobody else caught him. And if you'd thought paying attention in class was tough before, boy oh boy was it a challenge now. The nerves of what he wanted to discuss with you were bad enough alone, but that combined with memories from two days earlier randomly assaulting your psyche was just overwhelming.

When he pointed at the map with two fingers, you could remember exactly how those fingers had felt inside you, twisting and curling and getting you ready for his cock.

When he spoke, you could hear the difference in his voice compared to how he groaned out his praises while he was fucking you within a damn inch of your life.

And every once in a while, when he couldn’t help but glance at you for a moment, his gaze burned right through you; you were helpless to those brown eyes, completely paralyzed by them, and it must’ve been hours of that before class finally ended.

For the first time, you were the first person out the door when he released the class. As much as it was going to be a little bit weird to beat him to his office, it was certainly better than any of your other options. There was a chair in the hall beside the door, and you took a seat and pretended to read a book just to look busy (there was no way you could actually turn symbols on a page into readable language right now, not when you knew he’d be here any minute to talk about… something).

Your peripheral caught him coming down the hall, but you pretended to be deeply immersed in your book until he was right beside you, unlocking his door and opening it for you and himself. Tucking your book away and following him inside, you found him already staring at you, expression completely unreadable. Your gut sank in anticipation of whatever conversation this was going to become, and a moment passed in heavy silence.

"Hi," you greeted plainly, letting out a quick breath.

"Hi," he returned. "Close the door behind you."

You nodded and did as you were told, quietly pushing the wood back until the door latched before approaching where he had come to stand beside his desk. Though you didn't originally intend to, you found yourself standing a bit too close.

"I'm not quite sure where to start," he admitted, chuckling breathlessly as he reached up to rub the back of his neck. He looked cute flustered, which was a shame because his tone seemed to imply you needed to not be thinking about how cute he was. “Listen, you should know that what happened before… it was a mistake,” he sighed. “It can’t happen again.”

“Do you regret it?” you asked point-blank.

“It can’t happen again,” he repeated in lieu of a real answer, and you looked closely at his face; you didn’t find as much confidence there as you were looking for, it wasn’t the face of a man who knew he was making the right choice. You certainly didn’t think he was making the right choice.

“Why did you want to have this conversation alone in your office, then?” you challenged.

He cleared his throat slightly. “So no one would hear us.”

“Hear us talk?” you pressed. “Is that all?”

“That’s… definitely the plan,” he nodded, swallowing dryly. "Like I said, it was a mistake— my fault, not yours. And I just hope we can put it behind us respectfully."

“All the best mistakes are made at least twice,” you whispered, reaching up to trail your finger down his lapel. “Don’t you think?”

“Don’t do that,” he requested tensely.

"Do what?"

"That," he hissed. "Stop being… irresistible," he clarified, eyes darting from your lips to your finger to your eyes and back again. "A man can only take so much. I'm trying to do right by you."

"You already did when you fucked me that good," you smirked. "Nothing else could be as right as that."

Your fingers were just barely brushing over his belt when he grabbed you by the wrist. Jaw tight and eyes solemn, he shook his head.

You wrenched out of his grasp with a nod. It was worth a shot, but you didn't want to be that person who couldn't take no for an answer— so, you gave him a little smile and readjusted the strap of your bag. “Well, if it was just the once, then you should know that I’m still glad it happened. Even if it shouldn’t have.”

He nodded, strategically not speaking— but you knew he would agree, if he could.

“And if it’s any consolation to you now, you were the best I ever had.”

You reached for the doorknob, just starting to turn it and open your way out when he suddenly slammed it shut with a hand right above your head, making you gasp and spin around to look up at his dark gaze.

“Professor…” you whispered.

“The best you ever had?” he repeated, grinning proudly when you nodded. “Oh, sweetheart, I wasn’t even trying.” He leaned down to brush his lips against your ear as he whispered to you: “You don’t even know yet how good I can make you feel.”

A shiver ran up your spine; your tongue darted out to lick your lips. “Are you going to get on with it and show me?”

He didn’t even let you step away from the door, dropping to his knees right there and pushing up your skirt to kiss and bite your thighs. “Only if you ask very nicely,” he taunted with a brow raised in challenge.

“Please,” you breathed, “fuck, please, want you to taste me.”

His hands slid up your legs, grabbing the hem of your panties before sliding back down.

It wasn’t like you’d never been eaten out before, but this still felt like a first considering your skirt was pushed up to your waist, your panties were pulled down to your ankles, and even just one slow lick over your folds made it obvious he knew exactly what he was doing.

“F-fuck,” you choked, reaching down to weave your fingers into his hair. He grinned against your skin and kept going, exploring you carefully before finally sucking on your swollen clit. Your knees threatened to buckle, your head fell back against the door so hard it almost hurt, but all you could really feel was his mouth on you, moving like he knew your body better than you did.

So it was no wonder, then, that you already began to spiral towards your release, legs shaking around his head as he devoured you mercilessly.

"Oh my god, I—" you tried to warn him, but he already knew, and he pulled back to wipe his mouth with his sleeve and stand up. He grabbed your jaw and kissed you roughly, stopping to whisper to you so close that his lips brushed against yours.

"I'm sorry, draga, but you've spoiled me… now that I've felt you come around my cock, I can't imagine making you come any other way. I need to feel your cunt grip me so fucking tight… it's all I've been thinking about since I last saw you," he admitted.

"I thought about it, too," you sighed. "I was up all night trying to make myself come as good as you did but I couldn't… your come was still leaking out of me."

He growled and leaned in to nip at your ear. "Oh, poor thing… I can imagine it so easily, you laying in your bed with your legs spread, fingers getting exhausted from playing with your little pussy too much, these perfect lips whining for me because you need me to take care of you."

"H-Helmut, please," you whimpered.

"Yeah, something like that," he smirked.

"I can't wait any more, just fuck me. Need you inside me," you breathed.

"Then bend over my desk."

{part 2}

#baron zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo smut

2K notes · View notes

talesofstyles · 3 years

Text

Drs Styles

paediatric heart surgeon harry, husband harry and dad harry. honestly the holy trinity.

warning: they did it in the car. bloody animals.

Harry

“Move your car, please!”

“What are you going to do? Write me a ticket?”

“This is in the interests of safety for the children!”

I look at the time in the car. I’ve still got about twenty to twenty-five minutes to watch this drama unfold at the school gate. I just wish we had popcorn because drop-off and parking situations at the school gates are always more entertaining than Good Morning Britain.

The school gate is a strange social scene, and honestly, I don’t blame my wife for trying to avoid it like a plague. Sometimes, you don’t even have to talk to these people to know everything about their lives and more. I swear there are more gossips in the class WhatsApp group and daily playground chattering than in the copies of The Sun and Daily Mail combined. You know who’s married, who’s getting a divorce, whose husband shagged the au pair again, whose party you haven’t been invited to, even who’s looking for a builder.

I see the school caretaker chuckling to himself as he sweeps the autumn leaves off the pathway, no doubt also enjoying our morning entertainment.

“Why is Mrs Chambers screaming like that?” Alma, our eldest daughter, asks from the back of the car.

“Because that man parks his car in a drop-off zone,” I reply, still watching him as he removes a child from his car seat. “Do you know who that is?”

“I think the boy is your classmate,” Alma turns to her sister.

Fiona, our youngest, peers over to inspect. “Oh yeah, that’s Rufus and his dad.”

“Do we like Rufus?”

“Not unless we like boys who pee down the slides,” Fiona scrunches her nose up. “He stood at the top and peed down like a waterfall. I haven’t gone down the slide ever since.”

I shake my head and let out a chuckle. “M’sure they’ve cleaned it up since, button.”

Did you know that choosing a school for your child after nursery can be a head-throbbing, stomach-twisting, heart-pounding experience? Well, it can. How is one supposed to choose a school anyway? According to the proximity? Leavers Results? Adorable uniforms? Parents’ agendas?

After many, many discussions and visits through more schools than I can count, we ended up with Thomas’s Kensington. It’s a great school, and only ten minutes away from our home, making school runs easier. The downside of this school is the fact that it costs us an arm and a leg and that they’re always trying to rip us off any chance they get. Also, they only take the kids until 11, so after that, we’ll have to look for other schools again. But since our girls are only seven and five, we can worry about that later.

There’s a strange mix of parents at this place. I went to school up in the North and the school gate scene is nothing like this. Here there are more au pairs, fancy cars, nicer clothes and people coming with impressive tans from their last weekend break in Antibes. The kids here are suited up too: the PE kit is the size of a small weekender bag, and we put them in uniforms that make them look smart, hoping that will increase the size of their brains. A child walks past our car with a cello case, another with a hockey stick. It’s a different land here. One that my socialist in-laws constantly tease us about and one which my mum was hysterical about because she was scared her grandbabies would be little Tories. I promised her I’d keep them grounded by only giving them plain hobnobs. None of those luxury chocolate covered ones.

Jokes aside, my girls are happy here. They’re thriving. They learn French and Spanish and Mandarin, even if they share a class with kids who have ridiculous names like Kitty and Archibald.

A knock at my window calls me to attention. I wind it down.

“Are you Fiona’s dad?” A mum asks me.

“I am.”

“It’s about Ophelia’s riding party this Saturday at the riding stables.”

Like I said, it’s a different land here.

“I thought we RSVPed to that?” I look at her in confusion.

“Yes, you did, but we have to change the food options as one of the partygoers is allergic to nuts. I’m making everyone aware and we need to let the guests know that they can’t bring any nuts on the day.”

A dirty joke is right there on the tip of my tongue and I’m trying my hardest to keep it in. My wife would definitely find it funny though, I’ve got to remember this and tell her later.

“Noted,” I mean, I wasn’t going to send my daughter to a party with a packet of cashews anyway but I nod politely.

“And just gift vouchers for gifts please. Smiggle, if you can.”

Again, I nod, biting my tongue at the presumptuousness. But then I suddenly panic, because we haven’t entered the realms of pony riding just yet. Do I have to buy jods and boots? If I don’t, will my daughter be the odd one out? But Ophelia’s mum saunters off before I’ve got the chance to ask.

“Do I have to go to that party, daddy?” Fiona asks.

“Well, we’ve already replied, poppet,” I tell her. “Did you not want to go?”

“I’ll go if I have to.”

I don’t answer because I get distracted by a vacant space. I edge the car forward so my girls can hop off.

“I love you both. Have a good day, make good choices.”

“Bye daddy! We’ll see you after work!”

***

Evelina London Children’s Hospital is our second home. Of course, as a children’s hospital, we try to make the place as fun as possible as not to freak those little patients out at being ill. It is bright and primary coloured, and each ward is decorated according to its own theme with different colours and lovely artworks. There are televisions and toys almost in every corner. We have a giant slide on the ground floor, and even the bins are shaped like red London buses. The aim was to help the children to forget that they’re in a hospital and take their minds off their sickness.

Since my wife and I are in the same department, our offices are next to each other, both overlooking the Thames. It’s nice up here. Would’ve been nicer if we could sneak in a quickie, but that’s practically impossible with our shared secretary’s desk sitting literally in front of our doors.

Speak of the devil.

“Good morning. Here’s your tea,” my secretary follows me into my office with a cup of tea and a tiny plate with a couple of rich tea fingers. “Clinic until 3 pm, scheduled PDA ligation in the laboratory for 4 pm and then evening rounds on the wards.”

“Mornin’ Rhonda, you look lovely today,” I greet her cheerily. She’s a stern-looking woman who definitely likes her tea as strong as tits and who has probably never cried in her life. With such severity, she runs a tight ship, but she secretly has this affectionate side in her too. Not only is she a great secretary, but she also takes care of us in a way as a grandma does. She makes us tea, feeds us in between surgeries with biscuits or nice baby cheeses and crackers just so we wouldn’t starve.

See that sofa over there in the corner of my office? Rhonda got me that. It was around the time when I had just become a new father with the sweetest, most gorgeous little baby who did not sleep. Alma wasn’t a fussy baby though. For some reason, she just wouldn’t go back to sleep after her midnight feed for months. Believe me, I tried everything. I changed her nappy, I swayed and jiggled and rocked and sung her to sleep. Odd nonsensical songs like, ‘Alma darling go to sleeep. Sleepy sleep sleep. Pleeeeease. I’m so tirrrred. My eyeballs may actually exploooode. I don’t want you to see thaaat.’ And she would just look at me all wide-eyed like I’d lost the plot. Those were song lyrics? That was rubbish. Please don’t give up your day job. Also, it’s not sleeping time. I’m awake. I’m ready for life. Come on, entertain me, old man. Isn’t this nice, just you and me? Tell me everything you know. EVERYTHING.

Except of course she didn’t say all that. She would just stare at me and I had no idea what was going on in her little head.

I took over my wife’s patients at the hospital during her maternity leave, so I had longer hours at the hospital. One day Rhonda found me napping on the floor between surgeries, so she sweet-talked some porters into looking for any old sofas on the go and paid to have this one reupholstered. She even bought me a fleece throw for it too. We really don’t deserve her.

“You hittin’ on me?” She deadpans. “Yer wife not doing it for you these days?”

“It’s the blazer. I’m a sucker for a blazer.”

“If I’d known, I would’ve worn it more often,” she replies. “Did my nice dress yesterday not give you the fanny flutters?”

“It’s schlong shiver for me,” I roar with laughter. “And it’s the tartan, makes you look well old.”

“YN, yer husband’s a bloody git, did I ever tell you that?” Rhonda says loud enough for my wife to hear, and I can hear my wife’s laughter from her office next door. “Drink your tea. Your first clinic appointment is in twenty.”

“Yes ma’am,” I salute her.

***

The Arctic ward in the Evelina is home to many of our imaging, heart and kidney services. The name is probably giving it away, but everything is decorated in blue and white to go with the theme. We have several zones, and since paediatric cardiology clinics are held in the Walrus zone, I spend a great deal of time each day looking at walrus and snowflake decals.

“Doctor Styles!” I hear a little voice shouts in excitement as I walk towards the waiting room in the outpatient ward. I smile, because I recognise that voice even before I see the little person.

The waiting room is very open here compared to other hospitals. There’s a sea of noise, snacks, tiny juice boxes and colouring pages. There’s also always a look of expectation, judgement on the faces of parents and guardians every time I walk in. They want to see if their doctor is old or qualified enough to see their children. There’s always one child who has the whole gang with them; parents, two sets of grandparents and even several aunts and uncles, and there’s also at least one child running around in circles out of boredom.

This little lad bounces off his chair and hurls himself at me in a way like a little puppy would when its owner comes home from work. I put an arm out, hoping that he’ll apply the brakes but no such luck and he bundles himself into my arms. “Nice to see you, mate.”

His parents smile as they watch their son’s antics, who then runs off as I shake their hands. I turn around to see what caught his attention, and I can’t help but chuckle when I realise it’s my wife.

“Doctor pretty Styles!” He exclaims excitedly as he bundles himself into her arms. She gets a mouthful of curls in the process.

“Hi Rory,” she greets him as she runs her fingers through his curly mop.

“Oi,” I pout as I walk towards them. “You don’t think I’m pretty?”

“Your wife is prettier,” he says with a shrug, his tone matter-of-fact.

She laughs and gives him a high-five. “Rory, you are officially my favourite patient.”

She is right. Rory is one of our special patients for sure. We’ve both known him for about six years now, ever since Rory’s mum gave birth to this tiny human next door at St Thomas and his heart was literally broken. I remember watching proudly from the theatre when my wife replaced two of his valves when he was born. It was in our early years of training. Long time patients like Rory almost always feel like family. We’ve seen all their parents’ tears and watched over their children throughout the years. They send us cards and wine every Christmas and despite all attempts to keep a professional distance, their kids do feel like our own.

Rory shrugs off his dinosaur rucksack and unzips it, pulling out a drawing of a blue whale and an opened packet of KitKat. I like that the whale wears a top hat and appears to also don a moustache.

“I drew you both a picture. Only one though, because I figure you can share,” he says with a big toothy grin and hands the packet of KitKat to my wife. “And I’ve got half a KitKat here. Do you want it?”

“I’m good for now. Keep that KitKat for later on the tube,” she smiles and waves at Rory as she begins to walk away towards the fetal cardiology ward just down the hall. “Bye Rory, thanks for the picture.”

“Bye doctor pretty Styles,” Rory replies, making my wife laugh as she walks away. I give her a wave and a wink.

“Hey Rory, did you know a blue whale has a heart the size of a small car?” I ask him and his eyes widen.

“No way! That’s mega!” He exclaims. “Do you think you could operate on a whale heart?”

“I would need a very big ladder,” I tell him. “And a wetsuit. I’d give it a go though.”

A senior nurse from the outpatient ward, Florence approaches us with a junior nurse trailing behind her. “Dr Styles, always a pleasure.”

I smile at her. “Florence. How are we today?”

“Busy as usual,” she replies. “We’re about twenty minutes behind I’m afraid. We had Dr Goodridge in this morning and you know he likes to talk.”

“He always runs over,” I chuckle. “Well, don’t worry. I’ll skip lunch and get us back up to speed.”

“I’ll make sure to send some snacks for you. Here’s your chart, your files are already in your office. And this is Alice, your nurse today. She’s newly qualified so might need some instructions.”

The new nurse looks terrified so I smile at her to try and calm her fears. I totally get that. When you work in medicine, unfortunately, you’ll realise that there are a lot of rude self-important wankers.

I look down at my chart and find Rory’s name on the top of the list. “Well, look who’s coming with me to the exam room.”

Rory reaches out to hold my hand and we walk towards the examination room. His parents follow us closely, carrying the usual coats and devices that people do when they know they’re bound for a hospital waiting room. I see them inside and sit behind the desk.

“So, young man, I hear we’ve had a touch of drama with you. Can you tell me what happened?”

I’ve actually already got the information in the file, but I like the way this kid tells a story. He reminds me of my youngest.

“So… I was at school and we were doing PE and I wasn’t really feeling it because it was cold and really we should have been inside but Mr Witter makes us go outside because he used to be in the Army apparently and he says we should get used to the cold but that’s what they do in prisons.”

I smile. “Go on.”

“And then my heart started running.”

“You mean racing?”

He nods firmly. Racing isn’t even the word. It sprinted to the finish like Bolt at 252 beats per minute, three times the speed it should.

“It felt like bubbles in my chest and then the school went crazy panicky and they called the ambulance and they brought me to the hospital but not this one, it was another one and it wasn’t as good because you weren’t there and they had really bad biscuit.”

His mum adds. “And they gave him some drugs to bring it back to a steady rhythm; they were close to shocking him.” Her voice trails off and both parents’ faces look drawn and pale remembering the incident.

Rory looks absolutely unbothered by this. To be fair, we have put this little man through everything. We’ve cut his chest open more times than is necessary for someone so small, we hook him up to machines and put him on treadmills. His resilience and character amaze me, and I really can’t imagine what it feels like to see your child so vulnerable and helpless, to be paralysed and weighed down with such worry.

“Alright then, little man, we need to make sure that your heart is working as it should. This is Alice, and she is going to take you over for an ECG and we just need to make sure your tick-tock is in good shape.”

Rory nods and jumps off the chair. His dad offers him a piggyback, and his mum smiles at them. I can hear Rory offering that half KitKat to Alice as they leave the room.

His mother turns to me as the door is closed, her shoulders relaxing, allowing herself to breathe. “And how are you?” I ask her.

“You just think it’s done and then something like that comes along to scare you,” she says with a sigh.

“Let’s have these tests and then see if it’s anything major to worry about,” I try to calm her. “Episodes of rapid heartbeat is quite common in Rory’s case, and we can look into drugs to remedy that if necessary.”

She smiles, nodding.

“Did you have any other questions for me?”

She studies my face for a moment too long. “I… well, it will show up in Rory’s records soon, but my husband I are… I mean we’re getting a divorce.”

I pause for a moment. Of course, I know these things happen in life, but I’ve known this couple for years. I’ve seen them at their lowest ebb, bound by friendship and their love for that boy. I really do feel sorry for them.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I mumble.

“We just… we’re terrified about telling Rory.”

“He doesn’t know?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “We’re scared of breaking him. I mean, look at him. All of this stuff he’s been through and he carries on like nothing has happened. We don’t want to upset him.”

“It took a team of us the best part of six years to build Rory’s heart. There's a warranty on that workmanship,” I reassure her. “Have that chat with him. He’ll be fine.”

***

“Have we got time for dinner first?” I turn to my wife as we walk out of the hospital. We don’t normally have the luxury of ending our shift at the same time, but today is exceptional. We have parents’ evening at the girls’ school so Rhonda made sure to clear up our schedule after our evening rounds at the ward.

“No, but we can raid M&S and eat in the car?”

I’m starving and I almost cry with relief at the suggestion. “Always knew I married the right woman.”

She chuckles. “Damn right you did.”

We leave the car at the hospital and she drags me along the walkways to Waterloo, the breeze biting at our cheeks. I pull her into M&S, dodging the marching commuters and grab a basket.

“I’ll look for some wine,” she says before she saunters off. “Oh and I want sushi. None of that crap with the mayonnaise please.”

“Alright.”

I skipped lunch today so the whole place calls to me. I start taking very random things off the shelves: a packet of raspberry iced buns. That’ll do. I also take some hummus for my wife because she bloody loves hummus. I’m not even joking, I’ve seen her down a whole pot of it. Then I take some sushi as requested, some coleslaw, a family bag of mature cheddar and red onion crisps and a trifle. I hope I don’t bump into Rhonda. Next are cheese twists, noodle salad and cocktail sausages.

It takes me a while to notice that there is a man right next to me with a roll of yellow stickers in their back pocket. Hello there, you are one of my favourite people tonight. Have I managed to find that sacred hour when all the food is being marked down? He labels some prawns with dip and even though I get a little squeamish about eating fish near its expiry date, I put it in my basket. I then follow him around the corner. Now, this is dinner. I put all sorts of random food in my basket and smile at the thought.

Ooh, knockdown pizzas. I should get a pizza. That’s tomorrow’s tea sorted, the girls will love it. Although I can’t help but wonder, what’s the limit for us to feed our daughters frozen pizza in a week before they get taken away from us? But eh, we might be able to get away with it if we give them frozen peas on the side.

“Look at you,” says my wife, depositing two bottles of red in the basket.

“Yes, it’s me. I’m the yellow sticker bitch.”

She snickers as we turn to head for the tills. “Excellent work.”

***

“Mr and Mrs Styles, welcome.”

“Mrs Ebner, always a pleasure,” I shake the headmistress’ hand who’s standing at the door.

“Busy evening?” My wife asks her as she shakes her hand next.

“Always,” the headmistress replies with a smile, then proceeds to speak like she’s reading out of brochures. “But such a wonderful opportunity to connect with our parents and build on the special relationships we have with our school community.”

Two uniformed minions appear.

“Lewis, Maggie, could you please show Mr and Mrs Styles through to the drinks reception?”

They both nod in unison. The boy holds his arms out like a waiter showing us to our table. We follow them through the school’s grand corridors to the main hall. It’s the one thing I like about this place. It’s very Hogwarts-like with hefty engraved name boards and sepia photos of successful sports teams. In the hall, a throng of parents mill around waiting to see respective teachers. It’s the same every year. We all dodge the people from the PTA trying to sell us quiz tickets, and the bowls of crisps out of hygiene concerns.

“Red or white?” Asks a lady in an apron.

This right here is the very reason we get through parents’ evening. From the look of the bottle, it’s decent wine too. I think that’s where a good proportion of our fees is going.

“Red, please.”

We both take our glasses and walk to the corner of the hall. It’s essentially a holding area without the background music. The idea is that all the parents will get on and create a party vibe but it just becomes a strange family gathering. As terrible as it sounds, it’s sorted into cliques: parents who know each other via NCT groups, the international expat brigades who keep to themselves, the parents who’ve ostracised themselves by gossip, the ones who you know regularly brunch and ski together.

The boy from earlier suddenly appears in front of us. “Mrs Hughes is ready for you.”

I put my hand on the small of my wife’s back as we walk towards the classroom. Fiona’s teacher first and then Alma’s straight after. Right, we can do this.

“Mrs Hughes, we meet again,” I shake her hand. I’ve got no qualms about Mrs Hughes. She’s a seasoned teacher who likes a slack and sensible moccasin and we’re familiar with her since she taught Alma two years previously. When we enter the classroom, Lewis bows in reverence, taking his leave and I wonder whether to tip him.

“It’s always lovely to have another Styles girl in my classroom. Fiona is a particular delight.”

My wife and I smile proudly. I’m sure Mrs Hughes says this to every parent here about their child, but that’s always nice to hear.

“She talks a lot about you,” my wife says. “She seems to have settled in well.”

Mrs Hughes opens up a couple of books and it’s classic Fiona. Alma is ordered and neat—if she makes a mistake then she erases it completely and she underlines things with a ruler and listens to instruction carefully. She gets that from her mum. Fiona though, on the other hand, she’s all me. She has more wild abandon about her; no rulers, no rubbers. She puts giant crosses through things that don’t work and likes her bubble writing decorated with doodles of many, many cats.

I glance around the classroom as Mrs Hughes talks to us about standardised scores. The theme of the school is to show you how smart and educated these children are. Look at the copperplate handwriting, their reproductions of Van Gogh and our languages corner where they’ve all had a go at telling us what they like in French. I spy a contribution from my girl. J’adore les chats et le gâteau au chocolat.

I’ve lost track of the conversation so I try to catch up.

“So to push Fiona into those top scores, perhaps we can look into tutoring? For maths, in particular, so she can grasp some of the concepts a little more tightly,” says Mrs Hughes.

My wife and I look at each other confused. “Uh, I don’t think there’s a need, right? She’s only five.”

“It’s never too early,” replies Mrs Hughes. “We run an after-school tutoring club on Tuesdays that would help.”

Back when I was a youngster, clubs were fun endeavours that involved matching baseballs caps or were a chocolate biscuit that you had in your lunchbox. Maths tutoring session was not a club.

I ask her. “Is it free?”

“It’s fifteen pounds per session.”

See? My point being this should be a parents’ evening, not a sales session.

“Well, then it’s something to think about,” says my wife. “It could be that Fiona catches up with people throughout the year.”

“Possibly,” Mrs Hughes nods. Still, though, she proceeds to go into her folder and passes me a form. Sneaky. “Fiona has also shown great interest in languages and art. Her pictures have been a joy.”

Mrs Hughes goes to a file and pulls one of Fiona’s drawings. I glance down at it. It’s a standard child piece of art. The grass and sky are strips of colour to the top and bottom. It’s a family portrait, and we are as tall as the broccoli style trees. Wait, hang on a second. I count the number of people in the picture again. Is that-

“And Mrs Styles, I gather congratulations are in order,” she says with a smile. “Such lovely news.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Fiona told me it’s a boy,” she adds, and the sheer terror on my wife’s face at the realisation is priceless. “You must be very thrilled.”

I study the picture. There’s a house in the middle, and standing in a line in front of the house is our family. The one slightly taller than the broccoli tree is me. I’ve got my white lab coat, and I look like a serial killer because I’m holding a scalpel with the size of a butcher’s knife. Next to me is my wife, also with a white lab coat, but instead of a scalpel, she’s holding a very chunky baby who rather looks like a basketball with a head.

“Oh dear,” I chuckle. “Guess now we know what she’ll ask for Christmas.”

“Yeah,” my wife shakes her head. “We’re not expecting.”

“Oh, I apologise,” Mrs Hughes says with a sheepish smile.

“No worries, Mrs Hughes,” I tell her. “So, what else has our girl been up to here? Besides gossiping of course.”

Mrs Hughes laughs under her breath. “Well, in class, Fiona is attentive, bright and very helpful. She is a credit to you both.”

***

“I swear your daughter, Styles.”

We’re sitting in the car now. Finally done with parents’ evening, still laughing at the slightly creepy, chunky basketball baby in Fiona’s picture and the fact that three people, including Mrs Hughes, have congratulated us for the ‘baby’.

“You haven’t called me Styles in years,“ I turn to her with a grin. “Not since medical school.”

I can’t help but flashback to the good ol’ days when we had matching university hoodies and we’d test each other on the parts of a kidney whilst walking into lectures, sitting next to each other, sharing pens and cans of Lilt.

“Well, after that I became a Styles too,” she chuckles. “Would be confusing then, wouldn’t it?”

“True,” I laugh under my breath, then I grab her hand and pull it to my mouth so I can kiss her knuckles. “Thank you.”

“What for?”

“For being a Styles.”

“Aw, aren’t we soppy tonight?” She smirks. “Alright, stop the car.”

“What?”

“There,” she points to a dark empty spot and I oblige.

Then, before I can even ask her why, she reaches over and grabs me by the collar. Pulling me close to her and gives me a kiss. I kiss her back, and I smile when she bites gently on my bottom lip.

“Oi, oi. Something’s got you randy.”

The next thing I know, she undoes her seatbelt and then rolls her trousers down her legs along with her knickers, fumbling and giggling at the awkward movement. I push my seat back and pull my trousers down.

“Don’t fall on gearstick now,” I joke as she climbs over to straddle me. “Well, unless you want to, of course…”

She laughs as she lowers herself over my lap. I really can’t believe what’s happening here.

“Mrs Styles, we’re about to have sex in a car. Around the corner from our daughters’ school.”

“I know,” she says with a smile before she runs her tongue along my neck. “Not our first rodeo though.”

“Oh right, we did it in our Volvo years ago, didn’t we? Thought the suspension couldn’t take it.”

“And it turned out fine. Told you that you needed to have more faith in the Swedes, they’re a reliable breed.”

“I love it when you talk about Sweden.”

“Ikea.”

“Fuck.”

“Meatballs.”

“Billy Bookcase.”

She throws her head back in laughter and I take this as an opportunity to run my tongue along her collar bone. She gasps. I reach down to lift her before I slowly lower her over my cock. We both sigh as I enter her, a long exhalation with our lips barely touching.

“Viggo Mortensen.”

“Isn’t he Danish?”

“Tomato, Tomahto.”

I smile at my wife and push my hips up, silently telling her that we don’t need to talk about Swedish people anymore. She grabs onto the car seat and levers herself up and down. I look at her in the eye, a goofy smile still plastered across my face.

But then I squint. Light. Bollocks, what’s that? Where’s that light coming from? Crap, that’s bright. Shit. I see the flash of a hi-vis jacket, a knock at the window and someone shaking their head.

Oh sodding fucking bollocking shit wank.

#harry #harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles fics #harry styles ff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles au #dad!harry #husband!harry #doctor!harry #surgeon!harry

1K notes · View notes

sehunniepotwrites · 3 years

Text

when the ball drops, our hearts stop | mk.l

gif created by @nctsworld

SYNOPSIS ☆ In which being dragged and ditched at a New Year’s Eve gala with your so-called enemy doesn’t end as badly as you thought it would.

GENRE ☆ enemies-to-lovers!au, fluff, suggestive PAIRING ☆ mark lee x (f) reader WORD COUNT ☆ 2666 WARNINGS ☆ suggestive content ahead!! dirty dancing, neck kisses, alcohol consumption, mentions of cheating, cursing

PLAYLIST ☆ new year’s day - taylor swift

“What are you doing on New Year’s Eve?” had to be the number one question that was sent your way and unlike last year, you didn’t have an answer. Finding your lack of plans to celebrate the upcoming year with a bang, your best friend Wendy decided to drag you to the great outdoors.

And by the great outdoors, she meant the biggest New Year’s Gala in the city. So there you were, in the grandest hotel in the heart of the city, downed in a glittery silver power suit that hugged your body in just the right way. A matching belt wrapped around to cinch your waist and the low cut of your blazer and lack of undershirt only accentuated the curves you usually preferred hiding. Hair curled up and face painted with the most flattering colors for your skin tone, you were rocking and ready to go.

The gala was packed with people your age and older with a mix of top forty music blaring from the loudspeakers. Everyone was dressed to the nines, wearing suits and dresses that went with the gold and silver theme. Bodies were pressed against each other on the dance floor and you were sure Wendy and her boyfriend Johnny were in that crowd as well. They were always the type to be caught up in all the fun— you, not so much, not since your breakup with your ex that occurred five months ago anyway.

You wanted to stray away from the party scene since it was your ex’s scene as well but fuck it, it was New Year’s Eve and you deserved to have fun. Your definition of fun included an obscene amount of alcohol, courtesy of Son Wendy and the credit card she slipped into the palm of your hand before making her way to the dance floor.

Of course, you promised that you would chat and get to know some people, maybe find someone to share a New Year’s kiss with but it was all a lie. You just wanted your free drinks and the loneliness haunting your mind to fade away.

Three Long Island Iced Teas and a bit way past tipsy into your night, a person pushed their way next to you at the bar, their body pressing against your side as they ordered a drink. You couldn’t see them, your hair creating a curtain and blocking them from view but you felt their eyes on you. It wasn’t until you leaned forward and took another sip of your drink that the person talked to you, immediately recognizing your face.

They called your name a bit cockily and you flinched at the sound, sober enough to pinpoint the exact person next to you but drunk enough to engage in a conversation with him. Swiveling your barstool to face him, you shot him a curt smile, lifting your drink up from the bar in greeting. “Mark,” you nodded as you drank him in.

“Yo.”

As much as you hated to admit it, Mark Lee was handsome. His hair had been dyed a shade of blond and was styled in a way that made your heart unwillingly skip a beat. His grey velvet suit clung onto his body oh-so-well and the black tie that contrasted against the bright white of his shirt looked almost too tempting, the drunken state of your mind was urging you to pull it so he could step closer to you.

What did people say? Drunken thoughts, sober words? Yeah, fuck that.

“Johnny invited you?” you questioned as you sucked on the straw of your drink. You watched as his eyes flickered from your eyes to your lips for a fraction of a second, his lips curving into the smirk you wanted to punch off his face. Or kiss.

“Yeah, should’ve figured I would see you when John invited me. You and Wendy are like a packaged deal, you know?” he replied as the bartender dropped off his drink. This time, your gaze was glued to his mouth as he took a swig of his drink, eyes slightly widening as his tongue peeked out before he downed the liquid courage.

Coughing out of embarrassment, you looked away before Mark could catch you eyeing his seemingly delectable mouth.

“You look like the mirrorball that’s about to drop,” he commented on your fit of the night. Glancing down at your suit, you frowned. It didn’t look that bad, did it?

When you shifted in your seat yet again, it sent your head spinning for a second, leaving you to grasp against Mark’s toned arm for balance. “I feel like one too,” you threw back. “Is the room spinning?”

“Shit, dude, how much did you drink?” His voice dropped lower in slight concern.

You hold up three fingers before blinking. No, it was four. You raised another finger.

“All of them iced teas?”

“Yup!”

He cursed “Where’s your asshole of a boyfriend? Don’t see him around anywhere— doesn’t he know it’s not safe to leave their girl alone at the bar?” Mark pushed, suddenly worried about your safety. He asked if anyone had hit on you yet and let out a sigh of relief when you reiterated that no one had bothered you. Despite the insult thrown your ex’s way, you remembered how considerate the guy was. The only real reason you hated Mark was due to the rivalry he held with your ex-boyfriend.

“I dunno,” you shrugged, shoulders raising and the material of your blazer shifting. Mark coughed, eyes quickly darting away so they wouldn’t land on the deep cut into your cleavage. “Probably sucking face with the bitch he left me for.”

Another long swig of your iced tea and suddenly, the drink was gone with only ice in the glass. You pointed a finger at his face, “Don’t cheat, folks. It’ll wreck a person.”

“Fuck,” Mark muttered under his breath, now fuming with anger that someone would cheat on a girl like you. It only grew when he realized your best friends had left you at the bar alone. He was going to rip their heads off later— how irresponsible of them.

“Maybe that’s enough drinking for you today,” he told you, wanting to cut you off so you could sober up. He waved a hand in the air to call the bartender over to request two glasses of water, which was immediately prepared for you.

“Drink up,” Mark commanded, holding the straw to your lips.

You thanked him with a lazy smile before drinking away, sighing at the refreshing feeling of the cold water running down your throat. He held the drink for you in his hands as you continued to work on the glass, only setting it down after you finished it.

“Thanks,” you whispered, touching your forehead to his shoulder. He felt comfortable and you didn’t want to move as you breathed in the addicting scent of his cologne. You always preferred Mark’s fresh cologne over your ex’s overwhelmingly woody scent. It was consoling and safe and nice and—

“Hey, why don’t we move you to a booth? You’ll be more comfortable there,” Mark softly suggested.

“But what if I want to dance for once?” you whined.

“Let’s get you to sober up a bit more and then I can take you dancing, how ‘bout that?” His breath hit your ear and you laughed at the cold sensation before nodding. A flush that had nothing to do with the alcohol you consumed took over your face as the man you said you hated wrapped a supporting arm around your waist.

An hour later, your drunken state was fading as was the loneliness you were dreading. Mark Lee made an excellent company; he wasn’t at all what your ex painted him out to be. He was kind, caring, and endearingly sweet with the prettiest pair of eyes to match. The way his body wiggled to match his overflowing giggles brought the brightest smile to your lips, something you hadn’t experienced in quite some time.

The time spent with him in the small booth rekindled the crush you harbored for him before you met your sad excuse of an ex, heart fluttering against your chest.

“Hey,” he leaned over the table, his face so close to yours. “You wanna move closer to the screen so we can see the ball drop clearly? It’s forty to midnight. We can dance, too.”

Your eyes curled up in excitement as you agreed, easily slipping your hand in his like you had done it a million times before. The feeling of his larger hand wrapped around yours sent you into a high that you couldn’t really describe. All you knew was that you didn’t want him to let go and thank god he didn’t.

Mark only held you tighter as you arrived on the dance floor with a clear view of the screen. The bass thumped as he tentatively quirked a brow, silently asking you to dance. You replied by draping your arms over the slopes of his shoulder, your fingertips playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. Tugging you closer at the waist, Mark shot you another look to see if you were okay. The tightening grip around his neck was enough of an answer for him.

You shivered as his hands ran up and down the sides of your body, his touch almost burning through your glittered suit. When Mark least expected it, you turned around in his hold, pressing your backside against his front. A groan slipped out of his lips before his head dropped against your shoulder, his moist lips ghosting against the exposed skin of your neck. You reached back to hold his head in place as your body grinded into his.

The hand holding your waist tightened at your ministrations, squeezing you in a way that drove you crazy and the pair of lips that left a cautious kiss drove you crazier. The moan you let out and the way your free hand depressed against the one placed on your side was all the confirmation Mark needed to continue the trail of kisses he planned on leaving over the expanse of your neck. You enjoyed the feeling of his lips on your skin so much, your head rolled back and your eyes fluttered to a pleasured close as he nipped at your skin.

The next half hour was spent with you encaged in Mark’s hold and you weren’t ashamed to say that you enjoyed every minute of it. When catching eyes with Wendy and Johnny across the dance floor, you laughed as your best friend wiggled her brows at you and shot a thumbs up your way. It was then, you realized, that it was their plan to get you two together all along.

Your friends had always mentioned you would get along great, the only thing stopping you was the blasted and unnecessary rivalry that blossomed between Mark and your ex. Now that the terrible excuse of a person was out of your life, there was room for a new man and you found yourself not hating the idea of Mark being the next keeper of your heart.

Five minutes to midnight, you turned around in his hold and smiled up at him. He returned the look with a soft grin of his own.

“You’re not as bad as I thought you were, Mark Lee.”

“Took you long enough to notice,” he chuckled lowly, the sound sending a warm feeling to the pit of your stomach. “I never thought of you as bad, you know?”

“Is that so?” you countered, your hand freely running through his blond tresses.

“Yeah, I always thought you were great.”

“Just great?” you teased, leaning a bit forward.

He groaned, “Ugh, dude, you know what I mean.”

“I don’t think I do, dude,” you pushed further, leaving him to touch his head against your shoulder again. You were starting to think that he loved to do it.

“I always thought you were pretty special,” he whispered into your skin.

Placing a kiss on the top of his head, you answered back, “I never wanted to admit it but I thought you were pretty special, too.”

“Glad to finally see that the feeling’s mutual,” he laughed before he returned the favor with a kiss to your jaw.

When the countdown from twenty began, Mark shifted both your bodies to face the screen as the people around you started to shout the numbers at the top of their lungs. Wendy and Johnny fought their way through the crowd to get to you and you briefly squeezed your best friend’s hand in greeting. Ready to leave the current year behind and welcome in the new one, you pressed your side into Mark’s before joining in on the countdown.

You were shining, Mark noticed, like the mirrorball that was projected on the screen. It wasn’t like he mentioned earlier— it had nothing to do with the silver of the suit. It was just you and the way you shined so brightly as your voice blended with the others in the room. You were lost in the feeling and he loved the way you looked under the dim lights.

He hoped he could see you in more nights to come, for more opportunities to hold you the way he did on the dance floor.

Mark Lee, who was in love with you longer than he could even remember, wanted your midnights and more. He wanted to hold on to the memories of keeping you close and to create new ones if you would let him.

Hold onto the memories and they’ll hold onto you or so they said.

His eyes were stuck on you like glue as the crowd reached number ten.

Nine!

Mark’s hand wriggled around the ends of your blazer.

Eight!

His fingertips were hot against your bare skin.

Seven!

Mark tugged you closer to him, making you lose your grip on Wendy’s hand.

Six!

He found your hand reaching for his, fingers tangling together like the red string of fate.

Five!

His heart was beating a mile a minute at the feeling of your thumb rubbing against his skin.

Four!

You jerk your head towards him with glistening eyes and the widest smile. His eyes darted down to your colored lips before shifting back to meet your gaze.

“You wanna kiss me so bad,” you teased as your eyes followed his actions and ended up watching his tongue peek out to moisten his now dry lips.

Three!

“And what if I do?”

Two!

“Well, I’m not going to stop you,” came your flirty reply.

One!

And when the ball dropped from the sky, your hearts stopped for a brief moment.

Cheers for the new year came from all around but Mark Lee didn’t care— all he cared about was your lips fiercely crashing against his. He spun your body round so it slotted so perfectly against his, much like two pieces of a puzzle coming together as a whole.

The sensation of finally kissing your lips after secretly longing for you was more than satisfactory; it was addictive, more addictive than the drinks he consumed or any other tempting substance that existed in the world. Mark Lee was enthusiastically devoted to kissing you and the idea of ceasing never crossed his mind.

The only reason he did was for you to catch a breath. His eagerness never faltered, his lips running down to your jaw and the sides of your neck. He pecked your temple and forehead as you giggled at his over-the-top display of affection and it was music to his ears.

Pulling you flush into his chest, he whispered a late greeting into your ear, “Happy New Year.”

With your hands resting against his pecs, you glanced up at him with a charming smile, making his heart drop for the second time in the new year.

“A happy new year indeed.”

author’s note ☆ surprise! happy new year, everyone! (and happy 500+ followers to me!) i coughed this out in like five hours so it’s unedited and not my best work, but i wanted to release something in time for the new year! wishing you the best 2021!!

this was originally a request and i finally filled it!! ✨

#dreamwritersnet #cznnet #neowritingsnet #mark lee #nct mark lee #nct x reader #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct smut #mark scenario #mark imagines #mark fanfic #mark fluff #mark lee x reader #nct 127 scenarios #nct dream #nct dream scenarios #nct 127

900 notes · View notes

postmodernbeing · 3 years

Text

Shingeki no Kyojin Headcanons: 104th training corps (College AU - Outfits pt II)

Part I | College AU HCs

Part II of the outfits/aesthetics headcanons - College AU that would (kinda) be included in the oneshot I'm working on.

IMPORTANT: I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin nor the trend of this outfits-displays, only this HCs belong to me. // Contains spoilers (for the icons that I used in some characters) // English is not my first language, so I ask for your patience and understanding.

Historia Reiss

She has a huge wardrobe and so well organized by color, textures, and sizes. From halter tops to maxi dresses, our queen really dresses like one.

Forever in love with skirts and dresses with patterns and/or pastel colors. But don’t get confused, girl has range.

So, one could see her wearing monochromatic ensembles one day and the other, she’s all dressed up with some bright color pieces matching a patterned shirt.

Also owns a vast collection of jewelry and accessories both original and classy. And let’s not forget the shoes: sneakers, heels, boots, sandals and cute little anklets to match. I swear she can make crocs look boujee.

Contrary to what people think, she doesn’t support fast fashion industry. Aware of her privilege, she knows she has the money and time to buy from small businesses and keep herself trendy.

Last but not least, and kind of clothing related: Historia loves taking Ymir to thrift shopping dates and later go eating at some indie cafeteria. The lifestyle is also part of the outfit, alright?

Ymir

Her wardrobe consists in comfortable clothes and not giving a fuck. All her clothes give Rockstar lesbian vibes (stan this queen). Her designated color palette is based on dark shades, so it’s a real contrast between her outfits and Historia’s.

Loves combat boots and her wasted Converse TM, although her favorite pieces from her apparel are bomber jackets, coats, sweaters, and hoodies.

Ymir also wears a fair amount of stainless-steel accessories, mostly chunky rings and chains. Moreover, is common to find her listening to music, therefore, earphones are a fashion statement really.

Speaking about must-wear, this girl likes to paint her nails black but due her anxiety she tends to scratch the painting off so it gives this grunge look (don’t romanticize this fellas).

Historia would suggest her some trends or give her advice about color, but being honest, Ymir has a very well-defined style at this point.

Now, about her dress style: She won’t dress like a metalhead nor grunge (at least not intentionally). And she wouldn’t define her style as dark, it’s just what it is.

Reiner Braun

He wears lots of denim in jackets and jeans but also owns a couple of dress pants that combines with beanies or simple caps. Also, has plenty of plain simple shirts that fit his strong body.

Reiner usually wears opaque shades of all colors. Another fact, he’s not a big fan of patterns unless we’re talking about sweaters. He also wears jackets yet avoids cardigans and hoodies.

A very important thing to know, Reiner has a lot of gym clothes, he works out daily so don’t be surprised.

Most of those clothes are joggers, pants, shorts, and t-shirts that look as if he ripped them off or something.

Actually, a lot of his clothes look like they’re about to be ripped apart due his huge ass pectorals (please, Reiner, let me rest gently on your pecs). Just kidding, his whole wardrobe fits him perfectly.

Finally, if Reiner had to define his style in a sentence, he’d probably acknowledge that he gives the impression of a rich a-hole, but really, Rei just likes to be comfortable and presentable at all times. So, rich white guy it is for now.

Bertolt Hoover

Bertie is that one friend that always carries a cardigan or sweater just in case, also because he tends to lend his clothes if a friend of his is in need. So thoughtful, our big baby.

His wardrobe is amazingly well organized, and its color palette is unmatched. Lots of blue, brown, beige, white and black.

We know he’s tall enough to call everybody’s attention every time he enters a room. And being as shy as he can be, he avoids brilliant colors or striking pieces. Instead, he chooses simpler outfits.

Bertolt follows this formula every time: pants, shirt, sweater. Everything clean and discrete.

Now if we must talk about his shoes, Berts prefers some white sneakers or modest dress shoes. He wouldn’t say he owns a vast collection, rather, he keeps a fair amount for different occasions.

No tattoos nor piercings. Speaking of which, it’s so rare to see him wearing any accessories at all. Maybe he'll carry with him an analogical clock, and that's it. Although if someone gave him a friendship bracelet you can be sure he'll wear it all-the-time.

Annie Leonhart

Lots of denim for her jackets and jeans. Hoodies, bands merch and graphic t-shirts.

Her clothes’ color palette has range but nothing too pastel or colorful. Instead, she gets all the opaque version of the pieces she likes.

Not that Annie hates dresses or skirts, it’s just unusual for her to even think about wearing them. She prioritizes being comfortable, and tight/short clothes can’t provide her that feeling.

Hates slim clothes unless it’s a tank top or something similar. She just prefers oversized hoodies and mom jeans. Also, if Annie can avoid skinny pants, you can be sure she will.

Owns a fair amount of gym clothes because she also likes to train but most of the times, you’ll see her running around campus, really. She’s a simple woman with simple pleasures.

Annie is the personification of ‘looks like she could kill you, is an actual cinnamon roll’, from her attitude to her clothes. So beware, for she’s the queen of looking rude with her chains around her belt, and her ring to match but don't let her fool- holy shit, that thing can actually stab someone. As I was mentioning, such a sweet gal, isn’t she?

Hitch Dreyse

She can make it boujee with so little effort (and money), lemme tell you. Wears her clothes with such an attitude and class. Hitch's an actual wine-mom, or aunt maybe? she gives those vibes.

People have the impression from her style, that her parents are rich, but nothing could be further from the truth. It’s just that Hitch knows how to dress. (Also, we know that for a fact sis has a scholarship, okay?) ANYWAYS,

Miss here is forever in love with white and baby blue. Owns plenty of jeans but also dress pants and culottes that wears with blazers or shirts that make her look like a princess with a diversity of fabrics such as satin, silk-alike texture, and cotton.

Hitch is the queen of heels. Although she hates very high ones, she rocks shorter heels and walks in them with little to no effort. Or at least looks like it. All of her shoes are classy yet unique.

Now, let’s talk about her collection of accessories. Hitch likes her jewels in gold and only buys signature pieces: rings, earrings (for her four lobe perforations, two in each ear) and necklaces, of course. Yes, it is gold but in modest designs. Sounds fair, right?

Marlowe Freudenberg

Our big boy in here thinks that he should look presentable at all times since he’s the Chief Editor of the History student’s academic journal at Paradis’ Uni. Not that he cares a lot of his appearance, really.

And that’s actually cute because he puts effort into his outfits. Marlowe would be one of those straight guys that are hygienic and know how to dress and has no fragile masculinity.

Cologne is a must and part of his attire just like handkerchiefs are, because at the same time, he was raised to be the classic gentleman TM.

Marlowe dresses in all colors; he can’t choose a favorite one or a never-changing palette. He’s aware of season colors too and plays that at his wardrobe favor.

Yet for his outfits he’d follow few simple rules: oxfords (cleaned), dress pants (somewhere between slim fit and straight leg), some polo/dress shirt/cotton thing-y for top and a sweater / cardigan / blazer if season demands it.

Finally, our favorite student-editor spends some time of his routine shaving his face and styling his hair, albeit wouldn’t consider himself a vain guy nor full of himself. Lowkey expects Hitch to notice his appearance. Such a sweetheart.

194 notes · View notes

hansolmates · 4 years

Text

the proposal (m)

banner done by the ammmahhzzing @eerieedits

summary; Jeon’s the editor-in-chief for Big Hit Publishings, a closet romantic with a penchant for antagonizing his assistant on the reg. When his work visa is in the process of being renewed and he takes a trip to Norway, his eligibility to stay in America is on the line. However Jeon Jungkook doesn’t go without a fight, and in order to save his job he offers you a proposal you can't refuse. pairing; editor!Jungkook x assistant!reader (f) genre/warnings; the proposal!au, fake marriage au, enemies to friends(!!!), friends to lovers, bouts of flangst, dry humping, slight blood but not too bad, lang, alcohol, poor jjk discovers he has the ability to feel emotion, poor y/n is in the middle as always w.c; 20.1k of endless banter and koo hiding his romantic side a/n; yeah, it’s almost summer. But i think we need a lil holiday magic in our lives! I rewatched the proposal this weekend and whipped this up. Why is koo so gosh darn easy to write? This is my longest fic since i wrote maze runner back in 2014!! i rec this extension to get fully immersed in 2pov! Enjoy and pls tell me if there’s any errors im too poopied to proofread it again drabbles; 01

“When I hired you, you basically signed a contract that said you’d do anything for me.”

“Yeah, Jeon. I did. That meant like, getting you coffee or working late hours—normal work stipulations,” you can feel the hair on your scalp growing thinner, “not commit fucking fraud!”

Your boss looks moreso frustrated than you are, but you cease to care. Jeon Jungkook has been nothing but a thorn in your side since your employment at Big Hit Publishing two years ago. Being a budding author who wanted to graduate from online sites and freelancing, you accepted the job as the editor-in-chief’s assistant in the hopes of getting your first book published.

However, your dreams of being an editor are quickly dissipating, especially when Jungkook corners you this afternoon and announces that he may have left America during the time his work visa was still processing. He may have to give over his editor-in-chief position because there’s no way he can get a work visa processed in time. As a result of this information, he may have told his supervisors that you seduced him on a late night one year ago, and you two fell in love and have been secretly engaged ever since.

Because y’know, your citizenship to this country is an asset to the company.

“We didn’t have to go to Norway to PR Emma Watson’s autobio,” you huff, fingers going pale from how hard you were gripping your iPad. Jungkook is an esteemed workaholic, and you have no idea where it stems from. You remember that trip to Oslo, Jungkook insisting that you and him both go to make sure everything goes smoothly.

“You weren’t complaining when we went to that restaurant with the open bar.” he runs a hand through his coiffed hair, making the pomade untack from its style. “You got so drunk that Emma held you while you cried about global warming.”

Wholly unamused, you frown. “Jungkook, can you please take this seriously?”

“I’m taking this seriously, you’re not the one who’s about to be deported in two weeks!” Jungkook hisses, face dangerously close to yours. Not that anyone would know what he’s saying, but you can tell from his defenses that he genuinely is nervous.

“You wouldn’t be deported if you had just set an earlier appointment to renew your Visa!”

“I wouldn’t be deported if you had just set an earlier appointment to renew my Visa!”

At least twenty pairs of eyes are watching your confrontation, probably making their own conclusions as to what you two were fighting about again. Curse this office for having full-walled windows, you often feel like an ant in a plastic farm. Your work relationship is an anomaly to the rest of the staff. Before you started working at Big Hit, Jungkook’s assistants did not last long. Within the first week of working, you understood why.

Jungkook whirls around his desk, glaring at the glass doors as he puts himself between the staff and you. “If you don’t marry me,” he says lowly, close enough for his hot breath to fan your face, coupled with his fresh-scented cologne. It annoys you how good he smells. “You’ll also be replaced because they want to give the my position to fuckin’ Karen of all people,” you fight the twitch of your lips. The only thing you two mutually agreed upon is the hatred of his co-editor, Karen. “All of the late nights we’ve worked together, the gallons of coffees you consumed, putting up with my shit, your dreams of becoming an author,” his eyes flicker to the way the grip in your iPad trembles, “will go down the drain and turn to shit. Whether you like it or not, we’re in this together.”

Pretending to be unfazed, you bat your lashes, “So are you saying, you need me?”

“For fuck’s sake—”

“Ah-ah, Jungkook. I’m not going to ask you to get on one knee, but you should at least tell me how much you need me.”

You assume with great confidence that the only reason you’re kept on Jungkook’s payroll is because you’re not afraid to stand up to Jungkook’s bullshit. He looks positively disgusted at the mere thought of paying you an iota of a compliment. You’d say on average, you get half a compliment a month from Jungkook. You say half because he’ll compliment you, then downplay it with whatever flaw he can fabricate to get under your skin.

He loosens his lavender paisley tie, annoyed. “Fine. I need you. I need you because you’re the only one who knows me well enough to be my wife. You’re the only woman I’ve had full conversations with in two years and knows all my dietary restrictions, favorite books, foods, and hobbies. By process of elimination, you are my best candidate.”

“Romantic,” you roll your eyes, “I guess I do,” you push him away with a finger to his chest, “but I want a raise. And after we finish Sorn and Mark’s project, I want you to read my novel.”

“Done and done.”

“Well Jeon, I guess you’ve wifed me up with your ways of seduction.” you muse sardonically, feeling more upset for yourself than anything.

“Fantastic,” he sighs, finally throwing his tie across the desk and plopping in his armchair. “Cancel the call with Janet, call PR about Irene Kim’s interview on Ellen, and order me a medium rare steak from J.J. Bittings with a side of brussels.”

“Right,” you mutter under your breath as you pull up your checklist, as if you didn’t just give away your life to the Devil incarnate.

Jungkook’s back is already facing you, focusing on his computer displaying two new manuscripts. “Oh, and on your way to J’s don’t forget to pick up your ring at Saks.”

“Bitch, you’re asking me to pick up my fake wedding ring?”

Unbothered, he shrugs. You see the planes of his shoulders stretch beneath the blazer, because he’s deemed this conversation long over and he has work to do. “Yeah, but it’s real diamonds.”

You’ve been seeing red for days.

While the rock on your ring finger is indeed beautiful because Jungkook has impeccable taste, it drags you down and arouses the elephant in the room everytime you show up for work.

You get enough stares on the daily, and you were just getting used to the looks of pity and sympathy for working under Jungkook, but now there are only snickers and playful winks as you trudge down the cubicles every morning. Everyday feels like the runway at a shitshow, and you are the headliner.

Taehyung clapped you none-too-hard on the back when you showed up to work the next morning, congratulating you on the engagement. “Can’t believe you’re fuckin’ the big boss!”

The rest of the staff poke their eyes out of their cubicles like Digletts, and you shush them, using your hand to make them sink down.

Coffee is spilling down your shirt thanks to him, and you reach for tissues in his cubicle. “Can you not say it like that, please?”

“Oh, come on. I heard from the supervisors Jungkook went on about how you seduced him late at night and took charge,” Taehyung wiggles his eyebrows approvingly, and you fight the urge to not throw up your coffee in his face. “How do you keep it so professional? Or do you save all that pent-up energy for after hours?”

“You disgust me,” you grimace, stepping out of his cubicle and immediately regret wasting your five-minute break conversing with the typist.

Striding back into Jungkook’s office, he doesn’t hesitate to rattle off the next items on today’s agenda. He barely looks at you when you stride in, too focused on whatever corrections he’s slashing in red ink.

“Did you get Taemin’s second draft?”

“No, and I told him that if he can’t get me the draft by tonight he won’t get a publishing deadline and the number of copies published will be decreased by a third.”

“And Taehyung’s author agreed to our stipulations?”

“Of course, she’d be dead not to.” you mutter, “she’s a nineteen year old Influencer, what would she know?”

“Exactly, that’s why we milk it out as long as we can.” Jungkook throws the first draft in a large, intimidating pile, mixing in with all the others like a needle in a haystack. “Which is why it’s important we snag dinner with her this weekend, we can really—”

“What, this weekend?” your sense of equilibrium cracks, and you walk forward to put his hands on his desk. “I took this coming week off for Christmas. I’ve planned this for months.”

“I know.”

“I can’t just cancel my flight! I saved up for that!”

“And?” Jungkook brushes off your fury like a piece of lint, “I’m Korean. Christmas is a fake holiday for me.”

“You can’t just tell me I can’t go home to my family, it’s the fucking holidays!”

“Why not, I’ve done it before. Remember on Valentine’s day when I told you the only date you have is a date with Kwon Boa’s publicist? Or on Secretaries Day when I argued that you don’t feel appreciated by society anyway and therefore why bother taking one extra day off? Or during Easter when your family screamed in my office on speakerphone that you should quit—”

“Okay,” no need to be reminded of how much you’ve wasted your life for this man, “but this is different. I’ve already bought plane tickets and this holiday is special. It’s a whole family reunion in the Poconos and we’ve reserved over five houses to fit all of us! I can’t just ditch!”

“But I need you!” he replied just as hotly, in a tone that reminded you so many times of how tethered you are by this man. Two years have gone by, and the only thing that kept those strings together is the constant ache in getting your first novel published. “With all the marriage stuff and stupid extentions we had to make on these writers there’s no way we can get everything done before winter ends!”

“You’ve done it before, why can’t you just ask Taehyung to assist—”

“Trouble in paradise?”

A chill travels up your spine, and you and Jungkook exchange panicked eye contact. A tiny, pretty blonde lady struts in the room like it's hers, plopping a fruit basket atop Jungkook’s manuscripts.

“If by paradise you mean our relationship, then no.” Jungkook’s the first to recover, meeting you at your side and stretching an arm around your waist. “I’d say work-wise things are getting a little rough, but nothing we can’t handle. We’re a team, after all.”

“I just wanted to stop by as I was in the neighborhood,” the woman says, making herself comfortable in a leather seat reserved for guests. “Congratulations again on your engagement.”

You tack on a smile, squeezing Jungkook’s arm a little too hard, but it’s enough to make the lady in front of you smile back. “What brings you here, Taeyeon?”

Kim Taeyeon is Jungkook’s immigration liaison, AKA the person responsible for making sure you’re not breaking the law. She’s a pretty thing, with eyes sharp but a smile that’s soft and deceiving.

“It’s just a shame you two have to rush a civil wedding,” Taeyeon sighs, looking at the window overlooking the city.

“Ah, it takes some of the planning stress off my back, really.” you force a laugh, tugging Jungkook to sit on the couch opposite her. “At least one thing is done. The thought of planning a whole wedding with over two-hundred people is so stressful.”

You weren’t really going to have a white wedding with Jungkook (however you may have entertained the thought, which is reflected in your Google search history) but you had to keep up the ruse that you were. A civil wedding in two weeks, then a quickie divorce a year later.

“I know! My wedding was a real mess let me tell you, straight out of a movie!” Taeyeon is certainly the type of person to make you feel at ease, so at ease that it’s simple for you to melt your front. “But besides the point, are you two doing anything special for the holidays?”

“Ah, well I bought a flight to meet my family in the Poconos,” you start, trying not to succumb to your nervous habit of wringing your fingers. You grab Jungkook’s hand as a reprieve.

“And you’re not going?” Taeyeon’s gaze snaps, yes snaps, to Jungkook.

You try to step in, realizing your flaw. “We’ve just been so swamped with work, all the immigration stuff and with these book delays Jungkook suggested he stay behind—”

“But we’ve decided to prioritize our personal life and enjoy Christmas with our family,” Jungkook swoops in, threading his fingers between yours. He flashes Taeyeon a smile, and from the way his face lights up and his nose crinkles, you could’ve mistaken it to be genuine. “I’ve never experienced a big family Christmas, y’know. I’ve missed snowboarding too, I used to do it a lot in highschool.”

“Oh, that’s just so sweet!” Taeyeon cooes, clasping her hands together. “Do send some pictures when you come back!”

“Of course,” Jungkook stands up and attempts to leave Taeyeon out. You follow in tow, She obliges easily, mentioning something about just wanting to check in and she also has work to do.

“Also,” Taeyeon’s head flickers to the people sitting outside Jungkook’s office. “You should manage those workers out there,” she looks at you, sympathetic. “Apparently, they didn’t peg you as the type of person to sleep their way to the top. And that’s just what I heard from walking down the hall once!” she laughs, tinkling brighter than a windchime, but you just tighten the grip on Jungkook’s palm. “Such a childish assumption. Things can be much more complicated.”

She tips a “happy holidays” off her shoulder, and you both are smiling like the loving couple you are. As soon as the elevator doors close and Taeyeon is really gone, Jungkook moves to let go of your hand, but you hold him in your grasp.

“She’s onto us,” you snap, tugging him closer to you so your co-workers wouldn’t read your lips.

“Don’t you think I know that?” he bites back. He looks offendingly at the fruit basket adorning his desk.

“What if we get caught, Jungkook?” you start to spiral, feeling your deepest fears crawl to the forefront of your brain. You’ve done extensive Google research on commiting fraud, and if you do get caught, Jungkook will never be able to come back to this country and you’ll have a fine of up to $250,000. Your boss doesn’t pay you nearly enough to get by with that kind of debt. “We’ll ruin this company, and our lives, and any hope of being published or credible.”

“Hey, relax,” Jungkook whispers in your ear, the tone oddly comforting. He pulls you into his arms, and you barely have a chance to recover when he squeezes you extra tight around your waist. Jungkook only ever hugs you when doing PR, and even then it’s an awkward half-hug. Hell, he never hugged you on your birthday. “This is what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna book my flight to the Poconos, bring some manuscripts so we can work remotely, and no one will ever know.”

You sigh into his arms, nodding tiredly. It feels nice to be hugged like this. His arms are strong and warm, and you feel small and protected. It’s been a while since you’ve felt like that. Maybe Jungkook did have a heart under all that muscle.

“I’m putting up a good show, aren’t I?” he says, and you feel your heart drop just a little. Disappointed, but not surprised.

From your view facing the cubicles, you see at least half the employees comically bugged with heart eyes at you, enamored by your fake relationship.

“Do not stretch your long-ass legs on this plane, Jeon,” you nudge your smaller leg away from your section of leg room, “Jesus, we’re flying economy!”

It scares you how little you fought against Jungkook joining you for the winter holiday. It is the logical decision after all, Taeyeon is on your trail about your sudden engagement and you both needed to keep up the ruse. That includes going on family vacations. Also, the fact that Jungkook works through Christmas because he doesn’t celebrate it does make you feel a little bad. You can’t remember the last time the man took a vacation.

The man in question barely moves at your weak attempt, and stretches his leg even further across your seat. “Sorry, babe,” he says, fishing around his seat for the included blanket.

“It’s fine, Kookie.” You reply sweetly, and decide to kick off your shoes to drape a leg over Jungkook’s thighs, “you’re like a portable footrest!”

He looks absolutely insulted at your objectification, but smartly decides to choose his battles and lets you keep your position. Tucking himself in with a scratchy blanket he waves you off, “Whatever, just wake me up when we arrive.”

“What, no.” you pull up your iPad, shoving the note entry in his face. “I know everything about you, and yet you know nothing about me. I made this easy on you and just wrote everything down. You just have to read it.”

“Seriously? I’ve known you for over two years, I’m sure I know enough about you.”

“Really, then how do I like my coffee?”

“Uh… hot?”

You give him a look and he knows. With a sigh he grabs the iPad from your hands. Within seconds he’s giving you another dirty look, as if he’s skimming a conspiracy novel.

��You know all this random shit about me?” Jungkook asks, scrolling down as to what feels like your life story.

“Yes, because unlike you, I listen when you talk.”

“Fine. What’s my favorite type of weather?”

“A warm and sunny day, which correlates to your favorite kind of date which is walking along the beach at sunset. Cliché much?”

“Okay, rude. Who’s my favorite artist?”

“You like a little bit of everything, but since seventh grade you’ve been pining for IU. In the office, you like to sing along to Lauv and Hozier.”

“Favorite movie?”

“The Marvel Series. But you really like 5 Centimeters Per Second, you like the romance.”

“And how do you know my favorite anime movie is 5 Centimeters Per Second? I’m pretty sure I’ve never told you that.”

“Jeon, when we were promoting Momo Hirai’s self-help book at Anime Expo you were gone for two and a half hours at 1:50 sharp.” your boss’ Adam’s apple bobs and he swallows thickly at your admonition. “And low and behold, you gave yourself thirty minutes’ time to line up early because when I checked the schedule Makoto Shinkai had a panel on ‘The Otaku’s Perspective on Romantic—”

“Alright alright, I get it.” Jungkook slumps in his seat, as comfy as it can get with your legs draped around him and a seat at the far end of the plane. You know he’s trying to hide a blush, and you feel proud for making him a little flustered. “You’re lucky I’m a fast reader.”

The plane ride goes relatively fast, with Jungkook asking quick questions about your family and other random things. It’s like playing a game of 20 Questions, instead it’s the final boss battle with 200 questions and if he doesn’t get them all right, the penalty is deportation.

When you land, you’re both stiff and glazed over. Once you exit the terminal, Jungkook ditches you for the bathroom and says he’ll meet you at the luggage pickup. You give yourself a few moments, gearing yourself up for the long week ahead of you. At the luggage pickup, you see a tall man watch the revolving conveyor belt with interest. Either that, or he’s zoning out.

“Joonie!” you cry, nearly dropping your phone upon seeing your big brother. He’s dressed comfortably in a grey sweat ensemble, as if he rolled out of bed and came straight to the airport.

A bright grin takes over his face, and he doesn’t hesitate to smush your body against his. Under his tall frame you sway, your toes barely swiping the ground. “You’re alive!” he cheers, pulling back and holding your shoulders to get a real look at you. “I can see you’ve gained a little weight, eyes are a little dark, but I’m glad the Devil let you go. I still can’t forgive him for making you skip out on Jin’s wedding.”

You don’t appreciate the way that Namjoon picks and prods at your exhaustion, but you know he means well. While he does not know your boss by face and name, he had enough artilerary from the billions of phone calls to learn about the Devil and the havoc he’s wreaked upon your life.

When you don’t respond he gets the cue that you do not want to talk about work this week, and he smacks his lips together. “But nothing a little R&R can’t fix! The ski resort nearby has a really nice outdoor jacuzzi and we could set an appointment for facials if you’d like. Or we could do absolutely nothing and turn into baked potatoes and watch movies until our eyes burn up.”

“Both would be great,” you smile softly, catching two familiar suitcases make their rounds on your flight’s conveyor belt. You grab your pink luggage with one hand, and Jungkook’s black chrome one with your other.

“So, where’s the new beau?” Namjoon rocks back and forth on his heels, hoping to get a glimpse of the mystery boy you mentioned you’d be bringing as of two days ago.

“He really had to go to the bathroom,” you squint your eyes to make out the newcomers exiting the dropoff area. “Oh, there he is. Kook!”

Like a goddamn model, he struts in your field of vision like nobody’s business. Unlike you who stayed in your apartment all day before leaving, Jungkook decided to spend a few hours at Big Hit in the morning to tie up most of the loose ends before your trip. He’s talking to what you assume to be is a client, noting the way his brow furrows as he clutches his phone with a tight hold. He’s changed out of his tie and leather oxfords, but he’s dressed crisply in a dark button up and blazer ensemble, still wholly overdressed for a family reunion.

Namjoon starts behind you, “He looks...”

“Handsome?” you goad, elbowing him, “Charismatic? Undeniable presence?”

“Hard.”

You don’t know what to make of that adjective, and you subtly shrink further in your jacket as you mull over the implications of his word choice.

Jungkook steps up to the two of you, ending his call. His eyes float between you and your brother, and he manages to put two and two together. “Hey man,” Jungkook gives a practiced smile, extending a hand. “I’m Jungkook, I’ve heard lots of things about you.”

“Good things, I hope.” Namjoon chuckles, returning the handshake. “I’ve heard absolutely nothing about you, though. Can’t wait to get to know you this week.”

“Looking forward to it,” Jungkook takes his luggage and Namjoon grabs yours, leading you two out to his minivan. While Namjoon is preoccupied with getting the car started, Jungkook looks at you as if he’s already regretting making the trip down. “This girl has two braincells to her name. I just got off the phone with Sorn’s publicist.”

“What trouble can an influencer do?” you reply in disbelief.

“Exactly, influencing is the trouble,” he pinches the bridge of his nose, “she did some mukbang and now she’s in the hospital for food poisoning.”

“Ah, don’t get too worked up,” you help him lug your suitcases in the trunk. You spot Namjoon subtly eyeing you two from the rear mirror. Pressing a thumb between his brows, you make work to melt away the 11-shaped stress lines on his forehead. “Let’s just send her a Lush gift basket and she’ll be fine.”

You ignore the way Jungkook’s gaze lingers on you longer than needed, running over to your seat at shotgun.

The inside of his car smells like bergamot and lemon, and the sweet, vulnerable side of you wants to cry over how much you’ve missed your brother’s scent. It’s been way too long.

Once you’re all safely in the car and driving Namjoon says, “So, are you going to hide the engagement ring or give the family a collective heart attack?”

You tense, hands automatically floating to the teardrop diamond weighing heavily on your ring finger. The story that you two contrived about your relationship isn’t too complicated, but complex enough that it seems convincing. Instead of being your boss, Jungkook is your Literary Agent who gives you referrals to new and upcoming authors. You working closely together and bonding over the stresses of the publishing world, have kept a secret relationship under wraps for over a year to avoid any unprofessionalism or favoritism.

“I was thinking about that the whole ride, actually,” you twirl the metal back and forth, watching it gleam in the light. “Mom and dad know, but I don’t wanna lie to the rest of my family. They’ll freak out because it’s the first time they’re meeting Kook and we’re already engaged. It’s just a location thing, y’know. You guys don’t live in the city so we’ve never had a chance to really talk it out.”

Namjoon snorts, “Or, because your boss never gives you a break.”

If Jungkook finds any offense, he doesn’t show it. Putting what should be a comforting hand on your shoulder, he says from the back seat, “I already told you babe, do what makes you comfortable. But I don’t want to lie to your parents early on, you don’t wanna make the situation any more complicated.”

In other words, you better tell them about our engagement because Taeyeon could be hiding in the bushes waiting to catch us.

“Smart man,” Namjoon says shortly, but you can’t tell whether it’s a compliment or not.

“Yeah,” you exhale, turning to smile stiffly at Jungkook, “no use hiding the inevitable, right?”

The next couple hours are overwhelming. There’s a party right when you walk in your winter villa, your parents throwing you a reunion party (not for your family, but for you specifically because you’ve been MIA since Big Hit) with the house filled to the brim with family members. Within seconds your favorite cousin checks out the rock on your finger and screams that you’re engaged.

Everyone must be so high off the fact that you’ve made it to a family event that they’re elated you have a life outside of work. Jungkook is treated like a prince, charming the hell out of all your aunties and baby cousins.

“Oh, pumpkin!” your auntie squeals, linking arms with you while you’re trying to eat your dinner, “I just hugged your fiancé, and he has abs! Lucky you!”

“Auntie,” you hiss playfully, “you hugged him that tight?”

“He’s part of the family, isn’t he?”

“Right,” you force a smile, downing your glass of champagne. The bubbles burn your throat pleasantly.

“Babe, can you come here for a second?” Jungkook manages to swim his way through the throng in the living room, holding out a hand for you, “your mom said that our room is ready, care to lead the way?”

His smile, as pretty as you can care to admit, renders your aunt speechless, and she lets him whisk you away to a long hallway that leads to a set of bedrooms. Jungkook lets go of your hand as soon as you're alone, letting his palm run along the pictures that decorate your hallway.

He stops at a picture of you and Namjoon as kids, faces tanned and lips cherry red from your twin popsicles melting on your hands. “Wow,” Jungkook pretends to be alarmed, “I didn’t know you used to be cute, what happened?”

“Shut up,” you smack his hand away, walking ahead of him.

“I thought you guys reserved a bunch of houses, why does the furniture look worn and there’s pictures of you everywhere?”

“Our extended family has reserved houses, but this is actually my family’s vacation home. I used to go here every winter and summer break,” you reach a bedroom in the corner of the hall, smiling at your wooden name tag hanging on the front, “this is my old room.”

It certainly doesn’t have that youthful charm it once had, but there are still bits of your childhood scattering the room. There’s ticket stubs and photobooth strips tacked to a corkboard near your desk. Books that you would reread cover to cover are organized proudly on your shelf, worn for wear.

Jungkook groans in relief, plopping his body down on your freshly made bed. “Your family’s really clingy.” he sighs, throwing an arm over his eyes.

You turn to give him a snappy answer, but it dies in your throat when you see what he’s laying on. The familiar family quilt sinks under Jungkook’s weight, mocking you. You shriek, throwing your arms over to lug his body to the other side of the bed. Bundling up the quilt in your arms, you glare at a very appalled Jungkook.

“The hell is wrong with you, woman!” he cries, not loud enough to escape the room, but enough to have your body vibrate in annoyance.

“Jeon, they put the fucking baby blanket in my room,” you mutter more to yourself than him, folding it under your arms.

The blanket is comfy in your grasp and you’re sure it’s clean, but the fact that you weren’t actually married and in love made its appearance a whole lot worse.

“So?” his eyes are wide in confusion, “my mom still has my baby blanket too, I’m not gonna shoot anyone because of it.”

“It’s not my baby blanket,” you admonish, “it’s the baby maker blanket. A weird family tradition when someone gets engaged.”

“Which means?”

“They’re expecting us to fuck and have children.”

The thought of procreating and starting a family with you must’ve caused all the champagne to return to his throat, and he looks a little pale. “I think I’m gonna be sick.” he lies back down on your mattress, and you leave him be so you can chuck the blanket back in your parents’ room.

You’re barely out the door when a young man is waiting out in the hallway for you, poised to knock. “Hey, baby girl.” they throw you an easy lopsided grin, opening their arms to you.

In your haste, you slam your bedroom door a little too loudly. “Yoongi!” You let yourself sink into his waiting arms, reveling in the familiar embrace you missed so much. Yoongi is Namjoon’s best friend and work buddy, not to mention the man you’ve had a crush on since you were able to walk. While you can safely say at this moment there is nothing serious going on, a small part of you always wishes there could be.

His voice husks in your ear, “Why are we hugging in between the baby blanket?”

“Oh!” you brush past him, opening the door to your parents’ room and flinging the offending item as far into their room as possible. “Sorry, Jungkook and I were a little freaked out when we saw it. We’re definitely not thinking about children right now.”

“Jungkook,” he hums, and your smile falters just a tad when you see the way Yoongi tips his head down in thought, “It was quite the news. Congrats though.”

You want to say what you’re supposed to say, that yes, you should be happy. But the selfish part of you does not want this exchange between you and Yoongi to be happening. When you get your quickie divorce in a year, the small, hopeful part of you hopes you and Yoongi could be something.

Before you have a chance to fabricate a response, strong hands encircle your waist, and you feel Jungkook’s chin digging into your shoulder.

“Thanks, man,” Jungkook’s voice rumbles, “we really appreciate it.”

Yoongi gives a nod, muttering something about catching up later before he walks back to the party.

It’s then that Jungkook’s weight feels impossibly heavy on your shoulders. “You know, you’ve been doing a really shitty job of being my wife-to-be ever since we landed,” Jungkook whispers, feather soft lips dusting across the shell of your ear. It’s an act so intimate you can imagine your family passing down the hallway could be mistaking you two for speaking unthinkable acts. A toddler cousin spots you two and giggles, babbling something to your uncle about how you’re hugging. “You did so well when we were with Taeyeon and Big Hit.”

“It’s not the same when I’m lying to my family,” you turn to face him, equally simmering. “These are people that actually love and care for me, unlike you.”

“At least I care about what’s most important,” he grits back, “our jobs, our futures. Is that not enough for you to keep it in your pants?”

“Excuse me? You don’t even know him!”

“I don’t have to know him because I’m holding you right now and you’re practically sweating through your cardigan.” he grimaces, digging his chin further into your collarbone, literally trying to get under your skin. “Your face looks like a cherry tomato.”

You turn your head to bite back, your noses touching. The staring contest seems to last for days. Unlike Jungkook who doesn't know how to register basic human emotion, you still have hopes for a life after this. Before you have a chance to answer, your favorite cousin enters the hallway, oblivious to your concerns. Jimin’s red all over, passing you two flutes of blush champagne. “Hurry up, we’re making speeches!”

Champagne is overflowing like Niagara, and you and Jungkook are the reason for it as you’re thrusted into the living room. Your weird uncle is in the middle of a long-winded speech about his fishing business and how dreams are made from ‘bait and a dream’. You make eye contact with him, and he gestures wildly to you and Jungkook.

The crowd proceeds to go wild, echoes of speech! Speech! Reverberating throughout your living room. You and Jungkook share uneasy smiles, unsure of where to go with this show.

Deciding it’s your family by blood, you start first. “Honestly, when I moved to New York I wasn’t expecting to feel so lonely,” you clutch your flute with both hands, swirling your drink absentmindedly. You then turn to Jungkook, giving him a tender smile which he returns back just as fondly. “Until I met Jungkook. I’m really happy that I get to share this week with the people I love the most, so let's drink to family!”

Jungkook lifts his glass, “Thank you for the warm welcome, I can’t wait to spend time with all of you. This is my first Christmas with a large, loving family. Cheers to that!”

The room erupts in cheers, allowing themselves to clink glasses and chase down their respective drinks. Even the little ones crowding the kiddie table in the back are enjoying their apple juice while making silly faces at the new couple.

Jungkook weaves his arm between yours, and you get the signal to do a couples’ drink. He eyes you with mischief, as if to say we did it. After you two take your drink, Jimin’s the first to drunkenly yell, “Ohmygod just kiss already!”

“Kiss kiss kiss!”

“This is going on my story so make it good!”

“Kiss him before I do!”

“Oh my god,” you groan, throwing your forehead on Jungkook’s chest. Your family really is something else.

As if the chants can’t get any louder, it’s hard to focus on anything but Jungkook’s presence. Jungkook lifts your chin up, murmuring, “Let’s give the people what they want.” and he presses his lips to yours.

It’s awkward at first. Why wouldn’t it be, you’re making out with your boss, in front of your family, pretending to be engaged. But Jungkook doesn’t let up, parting your lips slightly to deepen the kiss. As much as you want to make up how terrible and disgusting kissing Jungkook is, it really isn’t. His lips are soft and he tastes like the peach champagne, and his grip on your waist is strong and warm.

He leaves you breathless when you pull away, a smirk on his lips for a brief moment before he turns shyly to your family who are probably foaming at the mouth now.

Maybe it’s the champagne coursing through your veins, but why does it suddenly feel so hot in the middle of winter?

The first day back starts off wholly uneventful, with Jungkook working on some manuscripts and you preparing dinner with Jimin. Most of your family is on the resort hitting the slopes, so you’re quite thankful for the reprieve since the party was so overwhelming. The blonde is all smiles as he bumps the oven closed with his leg, letting your lasagna bake to perfection.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Jimin rests his head on your shoulder, “it’s definitely not the same when we’re adults. Frankly, it sucks balls.”

“Big balls,” you agree, gnawing on a leftover baguette from last night.

“Speaking of big balls,” Jimin wiggles his brows as you attempt to move farther from him.

“Please don’t say it.”

“C’mon! Just tell me if the sex is good!”

“No!” you cry, flicking your crumbs at him.

“I will open this oven,” his hands are already on the handle, “and your dish will undercook.”

“Don’t you dare!” he opens the oven a tad, and you slam your hand down. “Fine! The sex is fantastic, happy?”

“Ewh, no!” The storm door swings open, revealing Namjoon, Yoongi, and Lisa, Namjoon’s lady friend. “I didn’t need to hear that, thanks.”

Your face looks absolutely pained as you watch the two older men walk in. They were the last people you’d ever want to share about your sex life too, even if it is fake. You can only bear to look properly at Lisa as they kick off their boots and shake the snow off their heads. Lisa pokes her tongue in her cheek, looking at you with a wild look in her eyes. “I’ve heard so much about your current drama. Can’t wait to hear the 411 from you, though.”

Yoongi looks unfazed, then again you never really know what’s going on in his head. “You guys wanna go to a movie tonight?” Yoongi asks, grabbing a slice of the baguette and dipping it in a dish of olive oil. “I think the one that’s showing is based on a book your company published.”

“Is it ‘Rotten Love’?”

“That’s the one.”

Pushing yourself off the counter, you nod eagerly. “I’ll go tell Jungkook to get ready. We can eat dinner real quick and then go right after,” you grab a bottle of water from the fridge, “Joonie, set up the table please.”

Jungkook doesn’t notice you walk in, and you can hear the faint sound of Muse blasting from his Airpods. He’s on your floor, doing pushups while reading a transcript under him. This time he’s using your iPad, every few seconds taking a thumb to scroll down. Sweating through his shirt, you can see the beads running along his silver reading glasses. It’s completely contradictory, your muscle bunny of a boss getting in his reps while psychoanalyzing a potential novel, but somehow it works with him.

“Maniac,” you mutter, bending down to place the cool water bottle on his cheek. He stops abruptly, like you’ve pressed the pause button on his seemingly robotic arms. Seriously, you can’t fathom how he manages to do both. You swipe the iPad under his body in place of a white towel, which he accepts gratefully. This isn’t the first time you’ve had to snap him out of it, sometimes you’d catch him at the company gym nearing 10PM, reading on the treadmill.

“What time is it?” he asks, fluting the water bottle down his throat.

Ignoring the way his neck glistens in sweat, you say, “It’s almost seven. C’mon, we’re gonna eat dinner and watch a movie. You’ve cooped yourself up in this room all day, time to interact with the world.”

“What movie?”

“The book we published in 2018, ‘Rotten Love’? They made it into a movie,” and you can’t help the wry grin that takes over your face when you say your next words, “guess who directed it.”

He sighs, rubbing the towel over his damp hair. The normally styled strands fall limply at his forehead. “I don’t remember, I shifted over that project to PR. Any director’s fine, but please please please don’t let it be—”

“Jung Hoseok!”

“Son of a bitch, we gotta go.” And it’s the first time in a while you see a genuine smile graze his features, one not laced with you and your marriage. It’s an old pastime for you both to get picky over Jung’s work. “I swear, he better not put his scenes all over the place like last time, I got whiplash.”

After a quick dinner you all pile into Namjoon’s minivan, making your way to the theatre. The drive is fast, and before you know it you’re waiting in line to get inside. It seems that the PR between the film studio and Big Hit did a good job assisting, because there’s a sizable line despite being half an hour early.

“So honey,” Lisa leans into you, squishing you further into Jungkook’s shoulder. “Did you like, help out with the publishing of this novel? To be honest I don’t even know what your job is,” Lisa admits with a shrug, “you’re not a glorified coffee girl, are you?”

“No,” her mixed enthusiasm never fails to stump you, “Ah, but I really didn’t do much in the production of ‘Rotten Love’,” you reply easily, relaxing into Jungkook as he moves to drape an arm around your shoulder. “I just told my boss to sign some documents n’stuff. It’s really nothing—”

“Babe, are you kidding? You ran the whole freakin’ project!” and you’re in shock, because for the first time in the history of ever, Jeon Jungkook is paying you a real compliment. “It was her first assignment when she got hired as the big boss’ assistant. A lot of people in the office doubted her,” he squeezes your shoulder, “but not for one second did I doubt her, you could see how hard she worked to make it perfect. I heard the boss was really impressed, too.”

You remember that period of time. Jungkook made you dive headfirst into the publishing for ‘Rotten Love’, letting you sink or swim in his decision for keeping you employed. After a full month of meetings, negotiations, and debating whether you should have caffeine IV’ed in your body to save time on eating, you got Jungkook’s evaluation. You remember the stoicism in Jungkook’s frame as he surmised your work, throwing you a flippant “it’s decent” before sending you off to do more work.

Relief flooded your system after those two simple words, because that meant you had a chance and you could keep your job. But this? If what he’s saying is true, you’re on Cloud 9.

“Awh, thanks Kook.” you squeeze his arm, letting your fingers trail down to lace your fingers with his.

Lisa’s face is all scrunched, and she doesn’t hesitate to stretch over you to smush Jungkook’s cheek between her two fingers. Her blue nails dig into his soft skin. “I like him, honey. Keep him, he’s so cute.”

She leaves you alone after that, skipping over to bother Namjoon about buying an extra bucket of popcorn.

“At first I was nervous having you near my family for a week,” you say brightly, rubbing a thumb over his hand, “but I kinda like seeing you try so hard to not rip other people’s heads off.”

He puffs out his cheeks in an attempt to soothe the stinging. “Could be worse, I could be engaged to Karen.”

With that you laugh, loud enough to turn heads and have Jimin and Lisa send you adoring looks. Jungkook sends you a nervous smile, the one that he’d always send you during team meetings when he was unsure of how to respond to something. Instead of giving him a smart answer, you get on your tiptoes to pat his reddened cheek. “But she’s right, you are kinda cute when you wanna be.”

Instead of replying, he squeezes your hand tighter to lead you inside.

Everything is smooth sailing after that. You, Jimin and Yoongi are saving the seats while Jungkook, Lisa and Namjoon are getting the refreshments. Jimin is prattling on about a new job interview and you’re listening attentively, while Yoongi shoots off advice every time Jimin says he’s nervous.

Yoongi looks past Jimin to give you that gummy smile that always made your chest ache. “Chim, remember when she applied to work at Jamba Juice?”

“Oh my god,” Jimin giggles, clutching your arm. “When you had to do a trial run in front of the manager? You forgot to put the lid on the blender and you sprayed the staff with green juice?”

“The stains took forever to get out,” you pouted. “And I didn’t appreciate the snaps you saved of me. I got nervous because you were recording me!”

“Am I hearing some juicy details about your childhood?” Jungkook appears, passing a huge tub of buttery popcorn to Yoongi.

“Emphasis on juice,” Yoongi says tartly, popping a handful of kernels in his mouth.

“Yes, do you wanna see a picture of your fiancé covered in green juice? She wore a low-cut shirt that day so it got deep, man.” Jimin says, using his hands to gesture obscenely to his own chest.

You’re mortified, and you push down Jimin’s phone and cover whatever receipts he has on you. “Jimin, I’d like to stay engaged, if you don’t mind?”

Your not-so-favorite cousin cackles in response, telling Jungkook that they’ll talk later.

“Here,” Jungkook cooly hands you a King-Sized KitKat.

“Awh,” you marvel, immediately opening the wrapper, “you actually read my notes and found out what my favorite candy was?”

He scoffs, dark bangs blowing up. “Who doesn’t like KitKats?” but you’re giving him the look, and he sighs, “C’mon babe, just gimmie a break.”

“Ha-ha,” but you break off a piece anyway, lifting it to Jungkook’s lips. It’s then that the theatre starts to dim, and the telltale signs of the movie begin. “Ready to rip Jung Hoseok to shreds?”

“Always.”

Barely fifteen minutes pass and Jungkook is spreading his legs. You’re about to kick him before he leans in to whisper, “They made Renee too dull,” he sighs in disappointment, as if he sincerely had high hopes they’d bring the novel to justice. “I mean, I get it, in the novel she’s supposed to be a plain Jane. But she isn’t grey.”

“Right?” you lean into Jungkook, throwing your legs over his thighs like you’re back at the airport. This isn’t out of intimacy, you think to yourself, you just need to be close enough to Jungkook so you don’t disturb the other patrons with your talking. “She’s either a bad actress or they messed up her character. I really got upset when I read this part, but it’s kinda bland on the screen.”

As much as you love Jimin, you know he’s not going to get your over-criticality over the media. Yoongi and Namjoon are on the other end of the row, but they wouldn’t be too pleased having you gab over the movie because you’re too much of an aficionado. Jungkook is the only one who can tête-à-tête, or in this case, Kit-a-Kat with you.

You sigh into his shoulder, inhaling his clean scent. “Let’s pray Jung didn’t completely butcher the chapter where Kenzo reflects on his penniless journey.”

“I’ll leave the theatre right then and there if that happens, care to join me?”

“Already out the door, bossman.”

Jungkook looks away from the screen briefly, reaching forward to take an obnoxiously big bite of the KitKat in your hand. You stifle a giggle, and before you can soak up his cheeky grin he’s already looking back at the movie.

You wonder what Jungkook is like outside of work, if he has that side to him. A little part of you wishes that this playfulness he’s exuding is real. Not to your fake marriage, but a playfulness he can execute to a person that he really likes. Two days out of the office and you’re starting to see that Jungkook has the capabilities to enjoy life, however simple it may be.

The movie is finished in a blur, and you and Jungkook are still bickering over the intricacies of the film compared to the novel. The night air is cold and burns your cheeks, reminding you exactly how late you’ve been out.

“Well, I thought the romance was so boring!” Lisa blurted, wanting an in. Her lime green ski jacket glares in your vision, and you move away from her immediately. “No one cheated on each other, there was no drama, or evil best friend!”

“Whoa there,” and you see the little fire in Jungkook’s eyes, one you’ve learned early on to stay away from when you spent hours in his office debating over manuscripts and plotlines. He stares down at Lisa, really stares down. “You think every romance needs some sort of internalized conflict for it to be good? Why can’t they just grow and learn from the external conflict together? It’s literally useless for them to break up over and over just—”

And that’s your cue to walk ahead of them, because while you did agree with Jungkook, you’ve heard this debate one too many times. Ever the closet-romantic at heart. You hope Lisa doesn’t lose her patience and punch him out.

“Hey,” you feel a hand pat your hair, and you look up at Yoongi. He looks absolutely fluffy in his long puffy jacket, and he matches your steps with his. “Do I look ugly tonight, or something? I feel like we barely exchanged two sentences with each other.”

“What, never!” you chastise, “you always look good, Yoongi. And we have the whole week to catch up, remember?”

“Really, then why don’t we go out in two days to pick out a tree for your house? Joon and I are planning on going.”

“I would love to go pick a tree!” you exclaim, “the last time we got a tree together was when your brother had to lift.”

“Great,” and he pats your head again, but this time his hand lingers to finger the ringlets of your hair. “It’ll be just like old times, baby girl. I’ll pick you up at 9.”

Unbeknownst to the both of you, Jungkook’s argument ended minutes ago and he’s mulling over a new type of internal conflict.

“Owie, ow, ow—fuck you! Ow!”

“Well if you just hold still,” Jungkook grimaces, taking his turns with both hands to simultaneously wipe the injury with a cloth and then pressing the affected area with an ice bag.

“Buh ih hurths!” your voice is muffled by the cloth, stained red with freshly bloomed blood.

The ski lodge started off great. You enjoyed a fabulous beligan waffle breakfast courtesy of Jimin’s parents, and then made the trek to the slopes. You’ve been here dozens of times, so you didn’t feel an inclination to gravitate to any of the fancy schmancy sports. You were fine playing shuffleboard inside, but your inner youth complained that it’s the holidays and you should be getting out more.

Jimin and Jungkook (who claimed he hasn't snowboarded since he was 16 yet he’s doing tricks like a goddamn Olympian) were shredding on the slopes while Namjoon and Lisa were skiing on a smaller hill. You and Yoongi watched safely from the lift, riding it like a kiddie attraction. You must’ve taken the lift at least ten times, complaining about how you’re both too lazy to function and you could really use a hot chocolate and a fireplace.

After the fifteenth time on the lift, legs numb, you stumble over with heavy boots to where Lisa and Namjoon were waiting for Jimin and Jungkook. They wanted to walk around more and see if they could try a more difficult slope.

While you were waiting, you had to admit that Jungkook did kind of cool all decked out in his gear. A competitive, playful smile was easily reflected in his gaze despite his helmet and goggles.

That slight admiration is knocked right off your feet when Jungkook speeds by way too close for comfort and you’re in his path. Jimin had already slowed next to your friends and family, looking at you in anticipated horror.

It’s far too late, and despite the fact that Jungkook manages to pull your body to his while you wipe out, your face crashes into his helmet and you taste metal.

Mildly disoriented from the impact, Jungkook’s muffled string of curses nurse you back to a decent consciousness as he tries to carry you to the lodge.

“Holy shit, I got that on camera!” Jimin cries, gesturing to the Go-Pro nestled in his helmet.

So now you’re in pain and it’s all Jungkook’s fault. Your bottom lip is split, and the burn on your face won’t go away.

You watch as Jungkook dotes on you, his bangs pushed up everywhere due to his grey goggles haphazardly being propped upon his forehead. His pink tongue sticks out as he concentrates on not getting blood on your sweater. It’s just you and him that are stuck around in the lodge after you got pummeled, standing by the fire while everyone else continues on with the fun.

“Why were you over there anyway, in the middle of the slope?” he scolds.

“It was the slow down zone, Jeon. You were the only one not slowing down, you speed demon.”

“Sorry,” he says gruffly, pressing a little too hard with the ice and you wince. He lets up and presses the cloth to your lips to soak up the moisture.

“Did you say something?”

“I said, I’m sorry.”

You sigh dramatically, “I wish I had a camera to save that shitty excuse of an apology.”

“Speaking of cameras,” he shucks his phone out of his pocket, handing it to you. “Jimin uploaded the video.”

That man, you don’t know where he has the means to quickly upload and edit things, but if it’s for the ‘Gram, it’s worth it to Jimin. You open Instagram and immediately click on @chimmyboi’s story, immediately wincing as the first few seconds reveal the brunt of the impact. He should really put a disclaimer before uploading content.

The tumble between you and Jungkook doesn’t look so bad, but it’s when you get up does it look gnarly. Your chin is dribbling in red liquid, and Jungkook’s throwing off his helmet and goggles in a panic.

He makes a half-assed snowball where you’re lying on the ground, pressing it against your mouth. With his other hand he pulls you into a sitting position, not caring that you’re staining his clothes as he hauls you on his body.

“Ohmygod,” you splutter, trying not to move your lips, “I look like I got decked with a hockey puck.”

“It wasn’t that bad, don’t be a baby.” Jungkook sees the piecing glare you give him, and he sighs. “Okay, it looked pretty bad. I was a little worried back there, but now the bleeding pretty much stopped and holy shit—stop smiling! You’re making it open up further!”

“You were worried?”

“Shut up.”

The ice bag is watery and not doing much anymore, but Jungkook still insists to cool your face down. You lift a hand to his cold ones, attempting to take the bag and cloth from his grasp.

“You should go board with Jimin and the rest of them. I can take care of this.”

“It’s fine,” he reasons, reaching for the ice bag but you hold on tighter.

“C’mon, I know the only thing you were looking forward to this entire trip was going snowboarding. I’m a big girl, I can be alone for an hour or two.”

Jungkook locks his jaw, gnawing at his cheek as he mulls on his decision. “Wouldn’t I look like a bad partner if I leave you?”

“Nah, this has happened before. Almost always someone gets injured on the trip. Last time something like this happened I was eight and I got five stitches on my leg. This is nothing. You’re fine.”

“But still.”

“Fine, you wanna make it up to me?”

You scan the room for any ideas, and it settles on a trio of girls huddled by the register of the built-in café. They’re pretty snow bunnies, decked out in sweater dresses and fur lined boots. They remind you a little of The Powerpuff Girls, all in pastels and attached to the hip. Their gaze has taken hostage in Jungkook’s frame, blatantly ignoring the fact that majority of his attention is directed towards you. You wonder why you haven’t noticed them sooner, because now the staring is getting borderline discomforting.

Slipping off his goggles with your free hand, you gesture subtly to the girls. “They think you’re hot. Go flirt with them a little and get me a free drink, I’m sure they’ll pay for you.”

He doesn’t understand the correlation, “Why would I do that?”

You shrug, separating the strands of hair that stick to his forehead. “Lisa and Namjoon do it all the time when they go clubbing. They compete and pretend they’re single for like two hours, and then they keep a tally of how many people offer to buy them a drink.”

“That is completely different, but I’m open to trying it when we get back to the city.” he acknowledged briefly, getting up from his crouching position. “I got a better idea.”

Puzzled, you watch him saunter over to the register. Like bees to the honey, the girls follow Jungkook with their eyes, watching him exaggeratedly mull over the menu.

He spares the slightest of head inclinations to the drooling trio, “Hello ladies.” The smile is not flirtatious, but kind.

You suppress a giggle, burying your chin in your scarf as you watch the whole interaction. You don’t even know why you asked Jungkook if he would flirt with those girls, as he kept most of his dates private over the years. You picture a college-aged Jungkook getting his daily breakfast on his way to class, ignoring the way his presence attracts heads.

The barista hands Jungkook a tray filled with a plastic cup of ice, and a cup filled with something hot, and a chocolate croissant. He grabs a straw from a tray, stabbing it in the hot drink’s lid.

“Excuse me,” one of the girls coquettishly puts her hands behind her back, puffing her chest out as she leans over Jungkook’s order. “The regular croissants actually taste better in my opinion.”

“Well my wife’s had a hard day, so I think she deserves something sweet.”

He doesn’t even turn around as he makes a beeline to where you’re seated on a loveseat, carefully placing the tray on the coffee table.

“Your better idea was making them jealous?” you ask, unsure of his intentions.

He shrugs, “College-Jungkook always wanted to show off his girlfriend like that, so indulge me for a second, alright?”

Rolling your eyes you reply, “My life is about indulging you. Don’t forget the trips I’ve made to the grocery store when your personal fridge was out of banana—”

“I thought I said we don’t speak of those hard times,” he cuts you off, “ever.”

You stop him from filling up your ice bag with the ice he brought. “C’mon Jeon, you’re burning daylight out there. I got this. You’ve stalled enough, go have fun in the snow with Jimin, you adrenaline junkie.”

He scrunches his nose, but relents when you throw him his jacket and goggles. Before he pulls on his gloves, he cups your face with both hands to pull you in a kiss. His hands are cold from the ice, gluing you in place in fear of him kissing you too hard. But it’s barely that, a brushing of lips so tender as he takes extra care with your open lip.

“Is this also a self-indulgent request?” you pucker, “who knew there was a hormonal teenager under that editor-in-chief’s body.”

His eyes flicker to the audience in the back, and you don’t need to look behind you to note that they’re glaring daggers in your head. It’s like you’re straight out of a rom-com.

“You’re leaving me to the bunnies,” you say teasingly.

“Then hurry up and get better so you can join us,” he taunts, “or else you can’t help me bury Jimin in the snow.”

It’s a tempting offer that makes you down your drink so you can enjoy the rest of your day.

Light seeps through your windows, rays kissing your eyelashes and willing them to open. You groan, hand splaying out to wake up Jungkook. When you find his space empty and cool, you sit up and search for your fake-fiancé.

He’s on the floor, smack in the middle of his morning workout. Your iPad is under his body, and somehow he’s managed to find a setting where the document scrolls for him automatically. He’s not wearing his Airpods, so you rasp, “Jeon, you’re crazy. I get the morning workout, but you don’t have to look over any more transcripts. I think you’ve read enough for this week.”

“It helps me ignore the burn,” he says shortly, and you see the ripples of his back flex with every push-up. “And I wouldn’t have to do so much reading if my assistant would just do her job.”

“I already told you, I’m not working during my vacation.” you throw off the sheets, padding to your closet. “I’m going to pick the tree today. You should go to the mall with my mom and Jimin to pick out some new ornaments.”

“What?” he gets up, and you ignore the perfect view of tight muscles decorating his abs. Exactly how long was he awake for to have sweat clinging to his shirt? You’re going to short-circuit and it’s barely 8:30. “But I wanna go help pick out the tree.”

“You don’t have to do that, Joon and Yoongi got it.”

“Yoongi, really? You think he can carry a tree?”

“This isn’t a pissing contest, Jeon.” you settle on a burgundy Patagonia jacket and grey leggings. “Besides, Yoongi and I are just friends.”

“You sure about that, baby girl?”

You whip around to poke at his chest, and you ignore how smug he looks. “Do not test me, Jeon. Like you said, I’m with you every step of the way in this marriage. I’m not going to jeopardize that over some childhood crush.”

“Wow, your life is really turning into a Wattpad entry,” he admonishes, “fake-fiancé still pining over his older brother’s best friend, really high-qual stuff.”

“I’m serious.” you grit, “I took a week off so I can get away from you and that was ruined, so I would like a little bit of space today.”

And that gets Jungkook to back away. His face deflates a little, and you feel a little guilty for making him upset, but you stab that thought down and convince yourself that he deserves it. It’s not like he cares about you, he just wants to show off to the boys.

“Fine,” he turns around to put on a fresh shirt, and you almost notice the pout marrying his face. “You could’ve just told me you wanted space. I’m getting kind of tired of you too, you know.”

He flops on the bed and you huff in reply, quickly throwing on your attire inside your closet while he watches a YouTube video. You check your phone, and at 8:59 a knock is at your door. Jungkook doesn’t bother to get up to answer, and you open the door to see a sleepy Yoongi with a paper cup in his hand.

“An English breakfast with two sugars and a dash of milk, baby girl.”

You mask your wince at the pet name. It hadn’t bothered you when you were young, but its starting to feel coddling now that Jungkook is making you hyper-aware of the attention. “Perfect,” you faux-beam, the hot beverage warm your fingers.

“I’ll just warm up the car and—”

“Babeeeeee,” the deepest, sexiest voice echoes from your bed and out in the hallway. He sounds absolutely tempting, and needy. You freeze at the way your boss can so easily pretend he’s exhausted and wanting you, “come back to bedddddd. I’m not done with you yet.”

Yoongi’s ears are red, “Aaand, I’ll let you finish whatever business you have.”

The older man bolts out of there, and you snap your head back to look at an innocent Jungkook. He tilts his head at your bout of anger.

“You know, I have half a mind to fling this tea down your shirt.”

“What?” he looks at you like a child caught with a hand in the cookie jar. “He can’t be the only one who can call you baby.”

Honestly, you didn’t mean to lash out on Jungkook like that. You did need to put up a face as you were each other's significant others, but it doesn’t mean you have to be together all the time. To top it all off you’ve been feeling weird as of late, and you can only attribute these terrible feelings to a certain brunet who’s been sleeping in your bed.

But you pin these feelings for another time, because you need to enjoy what little quality time you have with your brother.

“Hey, whaddya think of this one?” It's just you and Namjoon picking the tree, and Yoongi’s sitting in the cabin keeping warm. He said to call him once you’ve decided, since it is your house.

“Hm, it’s fine.” you shrug, inhaling the pine. “Maybe a little too tall.”

Namjoon nods, and you follow him to the next row of greenery. He’s been pensive this whole time, and you have a feeling he’s hiding something. Surrounded by pine and the fresh winter air he says, “Hey, I just wanna say sorry.”

“Why, did you like that tree over there? I don’t mind it, we can go back!”

“What, no? I’m sorry for being weird around Jungkook.”

“Huh?” sure, you noticed the weird language and terseness he gave Jungkook initially, but you chalked it out as big brother issues.

You two continue to walk around the forest aimlessly, not really tree hunting.

“I was just upset that the engagement was so sudden,” Namjoon starts, and you feel the guilt start to set camp in your stomach. “And I don’t know, at first he just didn’t seem like your type? I always thought you wanted to date someone gentle, someone you could hold and depend on. He looked so serious, and maybe a little immature.”

“He is a little immature,” you agree softly, digging your boots in the snow, “but I don’t love him any less because of it. We’re growing together.” Shit, why was that so easy for you to say?

“Figured,” and Namjoon stops to place a hand on your shoulder, “I see the way he looks at you, and you can’t fake love like that.”

Namjoon’s admonition is so convincing that you almost convince yourself that it is something.

Something is bothering Jungkook, and he doesn’t know why.

It’s not the billions of charges he made on his credit card for new ornaments, because it simultaneously inflated his ego and impressed your mom.

It’s not the way Jimin hangs onto his every word and doesn’t let up, because it is refreshing to have your cousin find a genuine interest in him.

Jungkook, Jimin and your mom have been taking laps around the mall for the past hour. They’ve floated around here and there, picking out whatever catches their eye for the tree.

Jimin’s in the middle of explaining the Jamba Juice story when a glimmering window display catches his eye.

“Hun, have you not bought her a present yet?” your mom says over his shoulder.

“No,” he exhales, embarrassed that he just admitted he didn’t think of getting you anything in front of your mom. “She doesn’t ask for anything, really.” Besides her book published, a raise, and a potential promotion as editor, but they didn’t need to know that much.

“Good thing you’re with the right people!” Jimin cheers, ushering him into the jewelry store.

Funny enough, he knows exactly what to get you. Once he points it out, Jimin and your mom “ooh” and “aah” respectively, agreeing that what he chose was perfect. If you had asked Jungkook a week ago what kind of jewlery you like, he’d give you a dumb look and say “something shiny.” But that’s what’s bothering him. He just walked right into the store, saw what was right, and everything just clicked.

Jungkook pins that thought for later, because once their shopping is done they’re back at your villa, arranging the ornaments and detangling the lights that have been holed up in the closet for eleven months.

Jimin and he are sitting on the living room floor, stabbing thread through popcorn. He really only saw this craft in the movies, and the small part of him is amazed that you and your family go through the hard work to make your holidays so warm.

Your mom appears from her bedroom, clutching something in her hand. She sits in front of Jungkook, a huge smile on her face.

“Before you say anything,” and it strikes him how similar you are to your mother. There’s that tone he always receives before he gets new news, or the way you’re eager to share something that will make him happy. “I don’t want you to think this is a luxurious gift or anything. But I realized that you don’t have a wedding band so I went through my old cases and found this.”

She opens her palm slowly, revealing a simple black band.

Jungkook’s lips part to form words, but his vocal cords betray him. At first glance, this ring could’ve been mistaken for one of Jimin’s plentiful rings adorning his fingers. Upon closer inspection however, Jungkook notes that this band is thinner and more worn. The metal looks strong and old, the slight scratches and faded color revealing that it was a well-loved piece of jewelry.

Your mom is offering Jungkook a wedding band.

“If you don’t like it, that’s okay!” your mom says quickly, nerves radiating because of Jungkook’s silence. “It was my grandfather’s. Don’t feel as if you have to accept it. It’s not a wedding band persay, but I think it matches and it looks about your size and we didn’t get you a Christmas gift so—”

“It’s perfect.” Jungkook tells her firmly, sending him a tight-lipped smile. “Thank you, I guess we kind of rushed the engagement so I didn’t think of getting a band of my own.”

Your mother is grateful, dropping the ring in Jungkook’s awaiting palm. “I think my daughter should be the one who puts it on you, don’t you think?”

“Right,” he echoes, and he just stares at the ring in his hand, feeling weird in his chest. He can’t remember the last time someone put this much thought in getting him something this significant. He can’t accept this ring, but he can’t refuse it either. “I could never find something with this much value from a little shop in New York, so thank you.”

“Oh, and while we’re on the topic of New York,” Jimin puts down his completed popcorn wreath, “y/n said she already put in her off days for Easter, so you should too. It’ll be at my place this year, and I live by an indoor skydiving zone. She mentioned you’re an adrenaline junkie.”

“She also mentioned that your birthday’s in September.” your mom pops in, “We were thinking we could take Friday off and stop by for the weekend. I’ve always wanted to see Hamilton!”

Jungkook knows they’re trying to cheer him up. They’re trying to make him feel part of the family, feel wanted. But he can’t remember the last time he’s felt wanted unless it’s for a book deal or a business exchange. It’s been so long since he’s felt this warm, and he didn’t realize how much he yearned for it until he proposed to you.

“Hey man,” Jimin puts an arm around his trembling shoulders, “are you alright?”

“Fine,” he’s crying, and doing a shit job at hiding the tears. “It’s alright, I just,” he can’t even find the strength to get up and walk away from this. Is it pathetic that he’s breaking down in the comfort of your cousin and mom, starved for affection? “I just, I miss my family. It’s just the four of us, but they’re all the way in Korea and it’s been awhile since I’ve really celebrated anything with them. They visit sometimes but it’s not the same, y’know? And work is so stressful but I’m not in a position to say that. And your family is just so, so nice and it makes me miss them even more. You’re all so lucky to support each other like this.”

Jimin and your mom sandwich him like an Oreo. It’s almost funny, how two smaller humans are comforting this big human and not the other way around. “Poor baby, it’s your family too.”

Pathetic. It’s pathetic how much he wishes to have a family like yours, but he can’t have that.

“Can we please not tell y/n about this?” Jungkook wishes, leaning his head on your mom’s. “She’s going through a lot right now with work and stuff, I’d rather just talk to her about this after the holidays, if that’s okay.”

“It’s quite alright, sweetheart,” your mom runs a hand through his hair, and his eyes automatically flutter closed, “just remember, your feelings matter too, okay?”

You and Jungkook slip into bed at the same time, murmuring half-hearted “how was your days” and brief descriptions of your outings. It’s a little awkward considering the morning’s events, but not unbearable.

“The tree smells really nice,” Jungkook tries, looking up from his phone.

“Yeah, makes the whole room smell like Christmas.”

“Yeah.”

“Did you have a good time shopping, find anything good?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s nice.”

[11:29] Jimin: hey, you know my room’s right next to yours right?

[11:29] Jimin: we share a goddamn wall and im NOT hearing shit

[11:29] Jimin: are you putting that baby blanket to good use ;)

[11:30] You: YOU”REE DISGUSTING are we even family!!!! Can i disown a first cousin??

[11:30] Jimin: i’m just sayin.. U said it was fantastic

You throw your phone away, letting it slide off to the mattress and onto the baby blanket. Yes, the baby blanket is unfortunately here to stay. Over the course of three days, the quilt is like a ball in a tennis match between you and your mother. You’ve given up and just kept it on the floor.

“I have a question,” you say aloud, motioning to your bed partner.

“Shoot.”

“Was it true when you said I was the only girl you knew well enough to be your wife?”

“Of course, that’s why we’re here.”

“I’m just wondering, because I really thought you could pick any girl in the office to be yours.” you stuff your hands under the covers, playing with your ring. “I mean, you’re kinda-sorta handsome. You could’ve picked someone just as pretty and they would have studied your whole life story for you.”

Jungkook's phone falls in his lap, and he looks at you like you’ve lost a couple brain cells. “Normally, I would eat up the fact that you admitted I was attractive. But do you realize you’re just as beautiful, if not more?”

What?

“I know it’s unprofessional, but how professional can we get when we’re married, but you’re the whole package, y/n.” and he says it with such fervor, you can’t formulate a response. “I wouldn’t have wanted anyone else. No one else can take my shit and throw it right back in my face, or debate with me for hours on end about a novel’s direction. Only you can do that.”

“I’m sorry,” you shake your head, “thanks, you’re right. I’m just clouded, and stressed. And Jimin’s being an ass and it’s really bothering me.”

His chocolate eyes flicker in the darkness of your bedroom, making note of your phone on the floor. “What’d he say?”

“It’s stupid, he said that he thinks it’s weird he hasn’t heard us bang all week,” you force a laugh, “it’s my fault though, he wouldn’t get off my back so I gave up and told him the sex was fantastic.”

“Are you worried he’s unconvinced?”

“A little, maybe? I don’t know.” you’re wrinkling your bedsheets now, turning the cotton into putty as your sweaty palms wring at the edge.

“I don’t mind giving him a show.” Jungkook blurts, and you instinctively pull the covers closer to your chest, even though you’re fully clothed.

“What, like fake moan into the wall?”

“There are things you can do over the clothes,” he says matter-of-factly, pulling the sheet of his bedside down slightly. “And you just said you’re stressed. I’d be a bad fiancé to not let you relieve some of that tension.”

Jungkook opens his arms and gestures for you to get on his lap. Your body is hot all over, and you can’t tell if it’s because you’re horrified or aroused. Maybe a little of both.

“Are you kidding—you’re my boss!”

“And we’re consenting adults!” he narrows his eyes at you, “don’t say you’ve never thought about it before.”

And the sick, twisted part of you has, a lot. There’s something about a man in a tailored suit and owning up to its power that’s really attractive. Not to mention all those times they’d be traveling for work, stumbling for a quick McDonald's bite at 12AM and he’d be dressed casually in tight black jeans and combat boots. The energy really kept you on your toes.

“Wow, I really hate late-night talks. All the secrets come out, don’t they?”

“If it makes you feel better, your ass looks great in pencil skirts,” you turn to him with flared eyes, “what? I’m just trying to let you know I mayhaps find you attractive.”

“Mayhaps you should stop talking before I regret this.”

His eyebrows lift and disappear from his bangs, the hair freshly dried and fluffy from his late night shower. He then pats his lap with a little blasé as if to say “hop on”, and you ignore the way how good the seat looks, his boxer briefs doing nothing to hide his unmentionables.

Trying to fight alongside your last drop of dignity, you take your time.

“C’mon y/n, don’t make it weird.”

“It’s been weird, Jeon! Jimin’s next door!” you hiss, backing away slightly, “Give me some time, I can’t just hump my boss!”

“You’re not humping your boss.” Jungkook has the audacity to grin, the expression looking absolutely sinful in the moonlight. “Think of it as your lover wanting to make you feel good.”

The bridge between love and hatred is a fine, fine line stemmed by passion.

Careful, you lift your blankets up and slip out of them, moving to sit up. It’s ridiculous, tiptoeing around your bed to avoid any sudden creaks in the aged wood of your mahogany headboard.

“We’re out to prove to your family we fuck on the reg,” Jungkook snips, “you can make noise.”

Within seconds, he’s hauling you on his lap. You squeak in surprise, feeling the thin material of his boxers seep through your thin silk shorts. You wriggle around, monitoring Jungkook’s expression. He does not allude too much, but you take note of the way Jungkook secures you with his hands between the swells of your thighs.

“I’m not a rollercoaster, stop adjusting like you’re gonna buckle up.”

Jungkook’s dry humor lightens the mood considerably, and you can’t help but smile timidly at his attempt to make you feel at ease. He lets you take your time, and you never imagined someone so demanding in the office can be so… kind in bed.

You dip forward to kiss his lips once, twice. He looks needy, but lets you set the pace. You appreciate that. You’re salivating at his willingness to make you feel good, and you whimper as he nibbles on a sensitive spot on your neck.

You need more. Sensing your urgency when you jerk his chin up, he muffles your sounds with a harsh kiss, taking care to moan deeply into your mouth. The heat is luxurious on this winter night, burgundy kisses exchanged between the sheets like secrets. His tongue slips between your teeth, tasting every inch of you and exploring you like the deepest texts.

He pulls away slightly, and you’re drowning in his gaze. “Am I still just kinda-sorta handsome now?” he nips at your neck, sucking on a spot between your jaw.

“N-no,” and you pull him up by the chin, taking in his messy hair and glazed eyes, “you’re fucking sexy,” and you tug your mouth to his once more.

You don’t even realize that you’re rolling your hips until Jungkook breaks the kiss in favor of grabbing your hips, making sure your core is nestled perfectly between his hardening length. It doesn’t take long for the both of you to get wet, and the silk glides easily between your thighs like butter.

“That’s it, baby girl,” he encourages, one hand reaching up to cup your breast, “use me, make yourself feel good.”

“Please, don’t call me that,” you whine against his mouth, trying to keep the mood in, “Babe is fine, but baby girl makes me feel like a little kid and I’m not a little kid.”

“You damn right,” and he lifts his hips to meet yours in a sharp thrust, and you gasp hotly into his mouth. It’s too late to muffle your moans, not when you’re drenched with two pathetic pieces of fabric stopping the both of you. “You’re a gorgeous, intelligent, strong, amazing woman.”

With every compliment, he does all the work, thrusting with each adjective like he’s blessing poetry into your body.

“J-Jungkook,” the name is muffled against his shoulder, too fuzzed in ecstasy to be embarrassed by the drool coating his tank top. His hair tickles your shoulder as he nips at your clothed breasts, swirling around your nipple. “I-I, m’gonna come,”

“You’re almost there huh?” and he slips a hand between you two to find that sweet spot, swirling designs between your shorts. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

And you’re shaking, collapsing into his embrace as he rides out your high. He cradles one hand in your hair as you rub furiously against his other, chasing your pleasure like a starved animal.

“K-Kook,” you murmur into his neck, finding the strength to roll your hips one more time to check. “You’re still hard, do you want me to help?”

“No.” he’s forthright, and as tired as you are, you force yourself to pick your head up. Sweat lines his brow and his face is flushed, but he’s already helping you off and handing you a tissue from the nightstand.

“What?” you’re hurt, and don’t want to admit why.

“Don’t feel like you need to,” he grunts into your forehead, dipping a chaste kiss right in the center. “Just let me do something nice to you for once.”

As much as you want to, you don’t complain as he tucks you in. You don’t complain when you see a wet stain on his Kirby boxer briefs. You don’t answer back when he checks his phone one more time and pulls you in to press a kiss to your cheek. It’s 12:31.

“Merry Christmas,” he murmurs into your skin, and turns over so his back faces you.

Christmas is a loud and eager affair. The entirety of your family piles into your house while still in pajamas, aunts and uncles from other villas running in with their children with their newly opened toys and gadgets. There’s a buffet style breakfast piled on the kitchen island, and you’re all eating in the living room while watching holiday movies.

Jungkook melds right in, unsurprisingly. He has your baby cousin Dante in his lap, teaching him how to use the controls of his new Nintendo Switch.

Despite only meeting Jungkook a few days ago, you notice that some of your family have taken the liberty of giving him small presents. You spot a simple silver chain around his wrist, courtesy of Jimin, and a fluffy grey scarf wrapped around his neck, courtesy of your aunt’s impeccable knitting club.

“He fits right in, doesn’t he?”

Yoongi hands you your usual cup of tea, and you accept it gratefully. You’re sitting right next to the tree, and you notice that some of the ornaments are miniature books. You absentmindedly run your fingers over the carved wood, especially on the ones that are your favorite titles.

“Yeah,” you hate to admit, so you whisper it into your mug. But Yoongi can hear, he always does. “I didn’t think it would be this easy.”

“Easy to love him, or easy to fit into this family?”

You splutter into your mug, and Yoongi does the right thing by patting your back. It feels a little bit like he’s burping a baby, but otherwise, it soothes your lungs.

“I am happy for you, you know.” he says, knocking knees with you. “It might not seem like it now, but I truly am.”

Deciding not to dwell on his subversive confession, you thank him for the tea and excuse yourself. Dante seems like he’s got the hang of MarioKart, so you tug Jungkook by the hand and lead him back into your bedroom.

“I got you a present, but I didn’t feel like making a scene about it,” you pull out a pink gift bag, tufts of white tissue paper sticking out. “Also, it’s kinda cheap and it was a last minute thing, so don’t have any high expectations.”

“Gee, you’re really making me feel deserving of this gift,” but he takes his time in unraveling the bag anyway.

He pulls out a shiny onyx black mug, rolling it between his hands. On one side it’s engraved in gold cursive “World’s Best Boss” but on the other side it’s engraved, “World’s Best Husband”.

“Subtle,” he grins, pulling you into a hug. He gets that it’s a gag gift, but because it’s from you, it's a lot more meaningful. You could’ve easily delved into his bank accounts and see what he buys for himself, but you decided to take the more personal route.

“Thanks,” he murmurs into your hair. And to really throw you off he says, “For my gift, I’ve decided to publish your novel.”

You shove him away as if you’ve been stung, and you barely have the voice to ask, “Are you serious, you’ve read my novel? I didn’t even send you the first draft!”

“We share the same Google Drive, it was easy to find. If you had noticed, it’s the only thing I’ve been reading this week,” he shrugs as if it’s nothing, but he’s in actuality giving you your lifelong dream. “You deserve it, really. I’m sorry if you felt like it wasn’t ready to be read. But it was wonderful, you’re a real wordsmith.”

“I’m not upset,” you can’t be, not when he smells so good and he’s trying to hug you all over again. “How many copies?”

“10,000.”

“20,000.”

“15,000, and I’ll even give you permission to dedicate your novel to me.” he raises his brows irreverently.

You scoff at his arrogance, but you don’t admit to confessing that along with professors and your family, you would be dedicating it to him. “Well my gift feels like absolute shit,” you deadpan, “can I have a do-over tomorrow? We can go to the mall or something.”

“You’ve done enough for me,” he disagrees, breaking away from you to place the mug on your desk. “Agreeing to my farfetched proposal, letting me into your home. I think that’s an amazing gift.”

“You’ve been way too nice,” you look at him wearily, noting the rosiness in his cheeks.

“You say that like it’s not possible!”

“Who knows? Maybe the Christmas spirit has performed a miracle, who am I to judge?” and you can’t get enough of the man, running into his heart one more time. Pressing your ear to his chest you sing, “Well, in the Poconos they say, that Jeon Jungkook’s heart grew three sizes that day.”

It may have not grown three sizes, but if the living room wasn’t so loud, maybe you could’ve heard his heart beating three times as fast.

The calm after the storm is your favorite part of Christmas. Most of your extended family has left to mull in their own homes, leaving your family to laze around until it’s just you and Jungkook that are awake.

Jim Carrey’s version of How the Grinch Stole Christmas is playing on Netflix, arguably the only superior rendition of the children's book. The tree is still glowing by the fireplace, soft white lights trickling in the darkened room.

Earlier in the night, you and Jungkook had cuddled up in the middle of the couch under a blanket, and were too lazy to move even when the entirety of your family vacated. Either of you could’ve easily shoved each other off and went to bed, but here you are, making offhand comments over hot cocoa. Each second that passes by, you’re more aware of how well you two sink between the fabric like you’re meant to do this. The domesticity terrifies you, but you don’t dare to point it out.

“How does his face do that?” Jungkook turns to you, contorting his face into funny expressions. It’s a poor attempt at the green creature on the screen, but it makes your mouth twitch and you fight the urge to giggle. “It’s like he’s made of rubber.”

“He has a sense of humor, unlike some people.”

“Very funny,” he says, turning away to take a sip of his cooca.

Sinking further into the couch, you unconsciously latch onto him more, savoring his body heat. “Can I confess something?”

“What’s up?”

“A week ago, I loathed you. I used to have recurring dreams about you getting run over by a Wonderbread truck. And I was driving the truck.”

“Wow, that makes me feel so much better.”

“No really, if I had the opportunity to watch you get hit by a cab, I would’ve paid for it.”

“If it were possible for me to file for divorce at this very second, now would be time. You are a walking red flag.”

“Okay, but!” you shush him with a finger to your lips, and he goes cross-eyed at the touch. “After seeing your stellar performance this week and an impeccable display of human emotion. I think after all of this, we could be friends.”

“Fwends?” he says through your finger, mouth smushed. “Why whuh we?”

Instead of lifting your finger right away, you swipe at his cherry lips, getting rid of the marshmallow sticking to the corners.

“Because we get along.” you say simply.

“Because we’re supposed to be getting married.”

“No! We’ve always gotten along! We’ve just been too up our asses to notice!” you sit up, appalled. “Here’s my theory, a change of setting has suddenly spurred on your character development—”

“—y’know I really don’t appreciate your use of literary jargon, it’s really pretentious—”

“—because without your external conflict, you have a chance to let loose and enjoy your life for once!”

Jungkook frowns, adjusting his frame so he slightly hovers you. He’s pretty like this, dressed in fluffy black pajamas and his face soft. His eyes absorb the Christmas fairy lights, and you notice for the first time in two years that there are no longer purple bags under his eyes.

“I don’t know,” he murmurs, voice so small you wonder if he’s worried to crush the moment. “Friends are hard.”

You shake your head vehemently, “Friends are easy, keeping them is the hard part.”

He doesn’t know why he’s being so weird about this. You’ve worked for him for over two years, you know him as well as you know your skincare routine, down to the last detail.

“Jeon, don’t think too hard about this,” you try to get him to lighten up, the intense look in his eyes throwing you in for a loop. It makes the little hamster wheel in your head spin rapidly, and you wonder if you’re really crossing a line. “Jimin said you had a really good time yesterday, I was almost jealous I couldn’t come shopping with you.”

He cracks a smile at that, “Yeah, Jimin and I shared a moment,” and he leans down to the shell of your ear, “and he said he really enjoyed our moment last night.”

“Oh my god!” you grab a nearby throw pillow, chucking the rough fabric in his face.

He breaks into a laugh, but not the wine and dine chuckles that he’d have between terse negotiations for work. It’s a full out giggle, like he’s proud to have riled you up enough to break your resolve. Who knew your angry face could be so cute?

“I guess if we’ve crossed a line, might as well make it all the way to the end,” Jungkook says easily, running a hand through his chocolate tresses.

You and Jungkook are leaving the day after tomorrow. Most of your stuff is packed and ready to go, and you’re currently spending the rest of your night at a sit-down dinner with your immediate family plus Jimin.

It’s peaceful, you muse. Jungkook even offered to help cook. Back at Big Hit not once did he ever bring leftovers from home, always insisting you order something for him during work. Kimchi fried rice is a simple dish, but Jungkook had taken great care in making sure it was cooked properly and adjusted to your family’s tastes.

Your parents are glowing and enjoying their time with the whole family, a rarity that grows more valuable with age. The meal soothes you like a balm, reminding you of old conversations that had you spew milk out of your nose or Namjoon accidentally spilling beans on your lap.

“Oh, you should also clear your schedule for the first week of September,” Jimin says absentmindedly, shoving another mouthful of fried rice. “Besides Easter, Jungkook says we can celebrate his birthday and visit for the weekend.”

“Seriously,” Namjoon balks, sitting up straight as he regards you in disbelief. “You’re sure your Devil of a boss will enjoy you out of his chains for two vacations, god forbid you take the holidays off again.”

The grip on your fork tightens, but you steel yourself. Honestly, you were wondering why it took Namjoon this long to let it all out. He was always vehemently against your job, as he was the person who got the brunt of your vents when you were stressed. Probably for the sake of Christmas he let it go, but now that it’s over, the topic’s fair game.

“Oh, c’mon Joonie,” your mother frowns, “not at the table.”

“He isn’t that bad, Joon.” you reason, completely ignoring Jungkook as you stare straight at your brother. “He means well—”

“Means well?” Namjoon barks a laugh, as if it’s the most laudable thing. “Sis, you cried everyday for a straight month after you were hired.” he places his hands on the table, regarding you carefully, “I had to personally call your doctor in New York to get you sleeping pills, and not to mention that two weeks ago, you were crying again because you were worried he forgot your vacation and would make you work! Don’t tell me he ‘means well’ when I’ve been busy picking up the pieces!”

At this point, you’re livid. Jungkook’s right here, and while you can’t go ahead and out the fact that he is your boss, you can still have his back.

They don’t know that you’ve picked the pieces back up, reinforced yourself to create a better version of the person you once were.

“He does mean well,” you cry, matching your brother’s red tone to a T. “He’s just stressed and genuinely cares about the company. I choose to work long hours because he takes his time in making sure the work we publish is worthwhile, and I support that. He’s hard on me because he knows I have potential. He’s going to make sure I succeed.”

Namjoon looks at you like you’ve grown two heads. “You’re seriously defending your shitty boss?”

Jimin puts a hand over Namjoon’s in an attempt to placate him, but he shoves it away.

“Honestly,” Namjoon spits venom, “how can you possibly stand to be around someone who makes your life so miserable?”

Your meal has gone cold, and your fists clutch desperately at your jeans. The breath is robbed from your lungs, and you can’t look at anyone for fear of them regarding you with guilt. You know since the day you got hired that your family wasn’t exactly enthused at your boss’ level of expectation and work output. But they don’t know the industry, and they don’t even really know Jungkook past the surface level. .

But you know in their eyes, they’re right. Their daughter left their comfy home to pursue her lifelong dream, only for it to be broken in a matter of weeks. It’s natural to feel protective, and while you’re resilient and were able to get it together as of late, it wasn’t enough for them to understand. As someone who loves you, it’s obvious they’d want to blame your boss, blame Jungkook for your suffering.

You imagine your father would ask Namjoon to step outside, or your parents would make Jimin pull you and Jungkook out. Neither of those things happen.

A warm, large hand is placed on top of yours. You look towards Jungkook, face unreadable as he squeezes your thigh.

“Namjoon’s right.” Jungkook utters, pressing his lips together. “You deserve to be treated with respect. The boss has never appreciated the hard work you do, at least not out loud. You’re too good for him.”

“Jungkook,” you gape, putting your other hand over his.

He pulls away at your touch, glancing at the clock. “This dinner was wonderful,” he says gently, looking apologetic to your parents. “Excuse me, but I promised to call my parents at this time.”

The excuse is completely half-assed, but no one says anything as he leaves, walking out the door without a coat. The table is terse, with your parents attempting to coax out dessert while Jimin clears the dinner table. You refuse to look at Namjoon, who has no idea why you’re so upset. You wait five minutes before you mumble about getting Jungkook a jacket.

However, when you open the door he isn’t sitting on the porch. He’s all the way up the street, too far for you to be heard with a yell, and walking farther into town. The black hoodie falls to your side, disappointed.

Jungkook does in fact, call his parents. Your mother suggested it when she gave him the ring, thinking it would ease his homesickness if he made a better effort to communicate his feelings.

And so he spends over an hour huddled in a cafe, talking about nothing and everything with his mom and dad. He tells them about the little novelties he’s experienced this week, like making popcorn strings and picking out themed Christmas ornaments. He tells him how he promises to book a flight back to Korea as soon as his work visa goes through. While he doesn’t mention the proposal, he mentions you. He prattles on and on about how strong and beautiful you are, and how you’ve crept up on him and made him realize how awful of a person he was.

His mom prattles excitedly through the line, saying that women make you realize how much better you can be for them, but she doesn’t know the half of it.

Jungkook sat there in your dining room, Namjoon boldly telling you off about how miserable he’s made you.

And yet still, you defended him in ways he never imagined. Your relationship has always been mutual, and prickly at best. You balanced each other out, but he knows he doesn’t deserve you. When he first hired you, he rendered you indispensable like all the other assistants that couldn’t handle it. You’d break eventually.

And you did break. But you picked up the pieces and put yourself back together, and you didn’t resent him for it. He hated that. How can you trust someone who’s hurt you so much?

He can’t let you go through with this marriage. You’re wrong. You don’t need him to be successful.

[11:09] You: mom unlocked the door for you. Jimin and i went out for drinks so idk when ill be back

[11:09] You: please don’t be mad at me

Silly girl, why would he ever be mad at you?

His plan is simple, Sneak into your villa, grab his luggage, and try to book the earliest flight back to New York. Then, he can come clean to Taeyeon and spend the year in Korea while they work out his visa issues. He’ll quietly pack his things and clear out the office before Monday. Hopefully by the time he makes it to Busan, he can forgive himself. He’s going to regret missing your expression when you get to hold the first physical copy of your novel.

This plan proves difficult when he sees Namjoon waiting outside for him, sitting on his luggage and reading a book. His long legs are splayed across the porch, and he doesn’t spare Jungkook a glance.

“Knew something was off,” the older man doesn’t look up from his novel, “found the mug on her desk, bossman.”

Muttering a curse under his breath Jungkook opens his arms, “Are you gonna beat me up now?”

“What? No, I’m a lover, not a fighter.” Jungkook scoffs, and watches Namjoon roll his luggage to the back of the van. “And out of the kindness of my heart, I’ll save you the Lyft fare and drive you to the airport.”

Is he that predictable? He flinches at the sudden jet of the ignition, and he takes heavy, snow-laden steps to the passenger seat. Once buckled in, Namjoon tosses the book in his lap. “Some light reading for the drive.”

If Namjoon wasn’t the driver, he wouldn’t hesitate to chuck the book at his big, intelligent head. Instead, he glowers, clutching the book tightly. It’s only when they round the corner to a house brightly decorated with lights, does he see what novel Namjoon’s plucked.

A Mutually-Assured Attachment. Jungkook tosses the book back and forth between his palms, noting the soft cover is so worn it could melt apart in his lap. It feels tended and loved from years of use.

It’s Jungkook’s first novel, and you had a copy. One of the first editions, if he remembers the cover art correctly. Granted, he thought you had some of his books purely because of your job, but not one from your childhood. Frankly he thought this should have never been published, but he was nineteen and that in itself was a large feat.

He carefully peels the pages, and takes out his phone to shine the flashlight mode. At the very front, blood red ink is scratched next to the title: “this is THE most pretentious title i’ve read in my life! Don’t disappoint me jeon!!”

Your handwriting’s all over the place. He sees graphite, gel, and glitter pens mark the margins, as if you’ve come back each time to write something new. The annotations vary, from “this part sucks” to “shit, that’s good i should do that”. You draw little pictures of the objects he’s contrived, from the little brass locket one character cherishes to the facial expressions you imagine they hold.

And at the very end, your handwriting sits neat and bold on the inside cover: I can do better than him.

Jungkook chuckles to himself, turning off the light. You’re always right.

Namjoon senses the younger one is done, and he clears his throat. “I really really don’t understand what she sees in you.”

“I don’t understand either,” Jungkook agrees easily, his finger tracing your handwriting. He muses that you were always out to get him, even if you didn’t know it.

Namjoon masks his surprise by clearing his throat. “But I’d rather seek to understand than live the rest of my life having my sister resent me. I don’t really know what you two are going through, but if she trusts you with her life, I’ll try. Emphasis on try.”

“I don’t deserve your trust.”

“You damn right you don’t,” succumbing to his impulses Namjoon makes a sharp turn, and Jungkook holds his stomach together before it flies out the window.

You come home to find your room cold and barren. All of Jungkook’s things are gone, except your Christmas mug.

You at least thought Jungkook would spare you a goodbye before he ditched you. You hoped you’d at least consider each other friends who provide explanations after all of this.

Lifting the mug off the desk, you hear a little clink in the glass, the chime unfamiliar. Hurriedly, you pour out its contents. A heavy, tungsten black ring lands in your palm. You clench the metal between your fingers, hugging it to your chest.

Mind made up, you dash out to the hallway, nearly bumping into your cousin. At the same time you and Jimin blurt, “We need to go to the airport.”

Apparently Namjoon warned Jimin that something fishy’s going on. Namjoon didn’t know what, but he had the inkling that Jungkook was hiding something. Once Jimin received the text to meet them at the airport, he flung you in his sedan and floored it. Flushed with adrenaline, Jimin is speeding with a fervor you’ve never experienced.

“Can you please, take the edge off and tell me what the hell is going on?”

Just like how Jungkook didn’t want Big Hit to go down the drain, you didn’t want this week to be in vain. You can’t wait a year for Jungkook to come back, and you didn’t want to publish your first novel without him by your side.

“Long version or short version?”

“The in-the-middle version. I don’t think I have the brain capacity to absorb all your drama right now but I really need some answers.”

“O-kay. Basically, Jungkook isn’t a Literary Agent. He’s my god-awful boss. Or was awful, I don’t know. Jungkook left the country before his work visa was fully processed. That’s a breach, so he needs to live in Korea for a year to come back. But he can’t run Big Hit remotely, so he proposed to marry me to attain citizenship.”

Your head whips to the dashboard and you cry out, barely stopping the impact with your hands.

“Sorry, sorry!” Jimin’s eyes are focused on the red light, absolutely terrified. “Bitch, you’re committing fraud with your boss! You could go to jail, that’s like, the hottest love story ever!”

“But he’s going back to Korea because now he suddenly realized he can forge basic human connection.” you mutter, “so no, we’re not going to jail because he’s decided to do the right thing.”

“So what you’re saying is, Jungkook has achieved self-actualization and decided to peacefully move to Korea and sacrifice the company for you.” Jimin is carving his free hand in the air, gesturing wildly. “Don’t you see! He really likes you.”

“Yeah, so now we need to go to the airport and tell his dumbass this isn’t the time to be selfless.”

Once you find a spot you’re rushing out of the car, weaving between carts and people to find the correct terminal. This airport is much smaller than JFK, so it’s easy for you to navigate and get past the TSA. It also helps that Jin’s wife is an attendant.

“He chose the 1:45 flight in Terminal 31A,” Mijoo chirps from her tablet, leading you in the right direction. She’s dressed impeccably, the odds and ends of this airport glued together by her impeccable organization. She points to the clock, which glares a digital 1:18AM. “You have time.”

“Thank you Mijoo,” you exhale gratefully, “and I’m so so sorry I skipped your wedding!”

“This is the 300th time you’ve said it,” Mijoo rolls her eyes, pushing you and Jimin forward, “But I’ll make sure not to miss your wedding.”

You’re sweating from your down jacket, and you can’t believe it’s really all come down to this. The one person you’ve spent the last two years of your life doting on, and you didn’t want to stop. You wanted him not just for the publication of your novel, but because you needed him.

Jungkook’s sitting in the waiting area of Terminal 31A, looking wholly inconspicuous as he reads a book and has his hood propped up.

Fists balled, you stride forward only to have Jimin tug you back. “What?”

Jimin pulls off your thick coat, making haste to wipe the sweat off your brow with his sleeves and flatten your messy hair. “What?” he tilts his head to the side, “you need to look good before the big confrontation. I’m recording this for archival purposes. Do you have any lip balm by any chance? You look chapped.”

You slap his hands away, but those grubby fingers just come back with a vengeance. “My life is just a big show to you, isn’t it?”

“Living vicariously all day, every day.”

While Jimin parts your bangs, the intercom cuts through the air.

“The 1:45 flight to John F. Kennedy International airport will now commence boarding. Please line up according to the ticket class.”

Jimin smiles at you, squeezing your shoulders and gestures for you to go. To your horror, Jungkook is first in line. Panic bubbles to your throat.

“Jeon Jungkook!” you cry, voice echoing throughout the terminal. “If you so much breathe in the direction of that plane I will call Mark Lee right this second and tell him the book series is off!”

Like a deer in the headlights, Jungkook heeds to your voice immediately. In his stupor you jog forward to snatch his wrist and pull him out of line. You don’t let go until you’re away from the long line, and Jungkook tugs his wrist away.

“Don’t you dare call him,” Jungkook looks serious, as if you didn’t drive all the way to stop him from making the biggest mistake of his life. “I will never forgive you if you terminate Mark Lee’s contract.”

“And I won’t forgive you if you get on that plane.”

Pain flashes in his eyes, and he shakes his head. “I need to. I can’t let us—let you go through with this. You and your family deserve better.”

“What? Jungkook, I agreed to this just as much as you did.”

“No, you didn’t.” he’s adamant, and steps back with every step you take forward. “As your boss I threatened you, held it over your head like an ultimatum. I’ve hurt you,” his voice cracks, looking at you desperately, “why would you want to be stuck with me when I’ve made your life miserable?”

“If I really wanted to leave, I would’ve done it a long time ago.” You reason, “Do you really want to leave the company behind? To fucking Karen?”

“Of course I don’t!” Jungkook exclaims, “but it isn’t worth hurting you, hurting your family and everyone that loves you.”

“And what about you? You’ll be hurt when you leave,” and you step forward, so close that your chests are touching. You take hold of his hands, clutching them between your small ones. “Don’t go, stay with me in New York. We’ll both work hard and try to not run each other to the ground. Let’s be better together.”

You’re practically begging, biting your lip raw and hoping Jungkook understands how good this change is for the both of you.

Jungkook is conflicted, looking back and forth between the airline boarding for JFK and your watery eyes. He hates seeing you like this. He can’t imagine you, the strongest woman he’s ever met, crying because of him. Namjoon’s voice echoes in his mind and he tries to smash it to the edge of his memory. But as always, you’re right.

He replaces your grip with his own, and gets down on one knee.

Jungkook says your name like it's the sweetest of songs. You’ve never seen him so terrified. “y/n, I didn’t do it right the first time, so let me try again. Please, marry me. Marry me because I want to date you. I want to take you out and give you what you deserve, what we deserve. I want to do better for myself, do better for you. I’ve realized you’re the only person that makes me feel like I’m simultaneously on fire and on thin ice,” he pulls out a velvet box from his pocket, revealing a thin band with interlocking black and clear diamond studs. It’s a pretty little thing, with a groove in the center so it stacks perfectly with your engagement ring. “This was supposed to be your Christmas present, but I chickened out at the last second,” he says sheepishly, tucking his head in. “But if you let me put this ring on your finger, I promise to be your home away from home.”

With a sob you fall to your knees, throwing yourself onto Jungkook. A small “oof” escapes his lips, and he struggles to hold your waist so you both don’t topple over. “Yes, yes, yes!” you cry, pulling away to cup his face with both hands, pulling him into a sweet kiss.

Jungkook’s smile takes up his entire face, and he eagerly pecks your lips one more time before ripping the ring from its holder and stacking it on top of your engagement ring. The teardrop diamond is nestled perfectly between the thinner band’s V. “Pretty,” he says, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Wait,” you pull out the black ring that you found in your room, holding it to his face. “I’m assuming this is yours?”

“Yeah,” he replies, “your mother said it was your great grandfather’s. It’s not an engagement ring, but it’s the thought that counts.”

“It matches,” you hum, placing his simpler band in his ring finger. Once it’s on, you take a deep breath. “Shit, we’re really doing this?”

Jungkook pulls you to stand, wiping the happy tears from your cheek. “We are, we’re a team, remember? We’ve crossed the line and we gotta finish it.”

And he picks you up, the workouts definitely paying off as he spins you around like you’re the leads in La-La Land, drunk off the happy chemicals firing in your brain. Jimin whoops and hollers, along with all the other patrons in the vicinity of the airport terminal.

Your real-fiancé puts you down, the both of you now hyperconscious of the stares people give you. Other people have filmed the proposal as well, completely smitten by your confessions.

“Jungkook,” you giggle into his shoulder, “you were right. Our story is straight out of a Wattpad entry.”

“Down to the super cheesy in-public airport proposal?” he chimes, pressing his forehead to yours. “Couldn’t have asked for a better love story.”

“I can’t wait to fall in love with you,” you whisper, quiet enough for his ears only, “for real, this time.”

“Not that it’s a challenge,” he teases softly, “but I’m already halfway there.”

some months later.

“Like the new office, boss lady?” your new assistant (yes, you have an assistant!) asks kindly, his bubbly presence uplifting you immediately. He leads you to the window box, filled with tiny plants. “I figured you like succulents, because you have no time to water them and they’re prickly like you.”

“Very funny, Seungkwan.” you chide good-naturedly, picking up a succulent with a yellow flower in the middle. “But thank you, your interior design skills are outmatched. I can’t wait to work with you.”

“Me too, your social commentary you published on the literary industry? And you managed to lace it all up in an inconspicuous fantasy novel?” Seungkwan boasts, “I applied for this position right then and there.”

“Thanks Seungkwan, why don’t you take your lunch and we’ll meet back at one to discuss our plans for next week.”

“Sounds good, do you want me to pick you up something?”

“I’m good, I’m meeting with the bossman.”

Seungkwan gives you that look, his lips jutting out in a suggestive manner that almost makes you burst into giggles. Your assistant decides not to bother you until after you’ve eaten, and bids you goodbye.

Just when you get a moment of peace, a handsome face pokes his way inside. “Hello editor,” Jungkook knocks on your door for the sake of attention, but you’re already dragging him into the office and shutting the door tight. “Like your new office?”

“Love it,” you moan, gesturing to Seungkwan’s light filtering curtains. They’re not dark, rather a tasteful sea green, but they’re opaque enough to stop wandering eyes from peeking into your space. Your personal space was a qualm that immediately needed to be mended after your experience in Jungkook’s office. “A lot more private than your office.”

“A little part of me hates how much you deserve this promotion,” he sits on your desk, and doesn’t hesitate to pull you between his legs, letting you lean into his chest, “but I do love the added privacy.”

You fiddle with the buttons of his navy collar, his strong thighs trap you between him, “Why, miss me already?”

He shrugs, “Taehyung doesn’t look as good as you do in a pencil skirt.”

You laugh, brushing the strands of hair that fall from his coiff. “No one looks as good as I do in a pencil skirt.” A firm grip confirms that, two strong hands cupping your backside. “Mr. Jeon!” you gasp playfully, pushing him away slightly to pinch his cheeky grin. “Can we save this for later? I’m hungry, but we can always continue this for dessert.”

He groans in your neck, “Love the sound of that, Mrs. Jeon.”

bonus.

“FUUUCCCKKKKKK YEEAAHHHHH!” Park Jimin’s voice bounces off the walls of Taeyeon’s office, his face taking up the entire screen of his desktop as the camera shifts harshly between him and you and Jungkook at the airport. “My cousin’s not going to jail! WOO!”

Taeyeon pauses the YouTube video at a particularly unflattering screencap: Jimin’s nostrils are flaring wildly and he looks fairly high mid-scream.

A low whistle escapes Jungkook’s lips, “Wow. That video’s viral,” he looks to you appreciatively, “if Jimin kicks off his YouTube career, you think we can milk a memoir outta him?”

“Potentially,” you reply nonchalantly, playing with your rings.

“So,” Taeyeon’s voice is icy, slashing between your casual conversation, “you’re getting married, for real this time?”

“Yep,” Jungkook pops.

“Alright,” and from her desk she pulls out an ungodly stack of documents, one that mirrors your own back at the office. “Jungkook, you’ll stay with me. y/n, you’ll go to Vernon’s office and he’ll give you the same spiel. We’ll interview you privately with the same questions. A hair out of place and you’re in trouble. You sure you want to go through with this?”

You and Jungkook exchange looks, betting your own company that you got this in the bag.

“Hit us with your best shot.”

#jungkook #jungkook fic #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jeongguk #jungkook fluff #kpop #kpop fic #jjk #bts x reader #how did i manage to write this

3K notes · View notes

reidetic · 3 years

Text

Whining and Dining (Spencer Reid/F!Reader)

prSummary: Reader teases Spencer by sexting him during a team dinner. Chaos and smut ensues. 2.7k word count.

A/N: Hi! I got to write this for @thisgirl-knm for our discord’s fic swap. This was so much fun to write, and I hope everyone enjoys reading it as much as I loved writing it.

CW: swearing, daddy kink, unprotected sex, penetrative sex

The dinner was one I had been looking forward to for a while now. We hardly ever got weekends off these days, what with the country seemingly crawling with killers. Rossi had planned a big evening at his house, fine dining a la David Rossi. So, there was pasta and wine to be had, and no shop talk allowed. It sounded like a blissful evening. There was only one problem. Spencer Reid had not touched me in weeks. It was understandable, as the team still didn’t know about us, and being on constant cases meant any time we got to go home we scrambled for our beds and passed out. But I was beginning to get impatient, and tonight I was determined.

“Y/n, are you ready?” Spencer calls from the living room, and I giggle to myself, turning to look in the mirror. I’m wearing his absolute favorite dress on me, paired with one of his blazers rolled to the elbows, the blazer resting just below the hemline of the dress.

“I’m coming! Just needed to grab a jacket.” I toss a longer duster coat over my ensemble and pick up my purse and head towards him, and he smiles, a huge grin.

“You’re wearing that dress.” He smirks a little and pulls me close to him, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Any particular reason?”

I laugh, not wanting him to see through me just yet. “Figured it was as good of an occasion as any. Are we still taking separate cars?” I reach up to grab my keys, and he grimaces but nods. He still hates driving.

“If that’s still okay with you. Less questions that way.” I know he’s right, but the feeling of hiding settles in my stomach like a rock. We both would never live it down, and the HR paperwork seems like a giant headache on top of all the other paperwork we’re drowning in. Not to mention the lectures, the seminars, it’s just a lot.

“It’s fine, just double checking!” I lean up to kiss his cheek, and he opens the door, ushering me out.

The drive is innocuous, an easy half hour with Spencer following me out of the city. We’re the last ones to arrive, but I can easily blame that on traffic. After all, it’s DC. Pulling up, I marvel at the house before me. I swear it gets bigger each and every time I see it. I go in first, letting Spencer follow behind me a few moments later.

“Ah, she’s here! Benvenuta, darling!” I smile as Rossi opens the door and pulls me in for a hug, the smell of Scotch following him.

“Running a little late, aren’t we, y/n?” Morgan follows, his joking tone betraying his words. He reaches out and takes my jacket, hanging it on a coat rack to his left.

“You know how traffic out of the city gets.” I smile invitingly, making my way back towards JJ, Garcia, and Emily, taking a seat on the sofa beside them. “It is so good to see you outside of the bullpen.”

“Ah! No work talk.” Emily exclaims, handing me a glass of red wine. “We’re all here except Spencer. Where is he, anyways?” She muses, and I balk. Just as I’m about to make an excuse, the doorbell rings.

“Speak of the devil!” JJ laughs, and the greeting process begins again, with much less physical affection this time, save Garcia, who of course runs to hug him tightly. He’s learned to tolerate and maybe even enjoy her hugs over the years.

For appearances sake, I call out a short, teasing, “What took you so long, Reid?” He shakes his head at me and just offers a simple excuse about getting caught behind a train out of the city. It works for the team, and we all chit chat for a while, nursing our drinks and pilfering Rossi’s precariously placed appetizers. Eventually, Rossi announces it’s time to move to the backyard for the main course, and small cheers fill the air.

I make a quick excuse and step into the hall bathroom, pulling out my phone as the door clicks behind me. Opening up Spencer’s contact, I type out a small, teasing message.

‘Check your pocket.’

‘Y/n. What is this?’

‘You tell me.’

‘It seems to be your underwear, little girl.’ One seemingly quick second later, he follows it with another text. ‘You’re going to get us caught.’

‘Sounds like you should make sure we don’t, daddy.’ I slide my phone back in my blazer pocket and duck out of the bathroom, hurrying to join the others at the table. The only seat left is of course directly across from Spencer, seated in between Rossi and Emily.

“Nice of you to join us, y/n.” Emily teases, and we all laugh. It’s nice to have a teasing moment between friends sometimes, and I intend to remind Spencer of that fully. After the attention leaves me, and focuses on Emily and JJ’s son, I pull out my phone and text him again.

‘You look distracted.’

‘I wonder why.’

‘Can I fix it, daddy?’

He sucks in a quick breath, choking on the water he’s drinking. He puts his phone back in his lap before glaring up at me briefly.

Morgan claps him on the shoulder. “You alright man?”

Spencer responds with a very obvious, “Yeah. I choked.” The team once again laughs it off and returns to their conversation, paying us no attention.

‘You’re going to pay for that.’

I tune into the conversation then, purposefully ignoring the text, and pretend to not notice when the phone vibrates in my lap. Rossi is talking about his newest book, and I chime in with a quick, “Hey, we said no shop talk!” and Rossi relents, and Morgan brings up a subject change, something about Hank and Savannah.

I check my phone, and there are three messages waiting for me.

‘Are you ignoring me, little girl?’

‘That was a question.’

‘You’re in big trouble now.’ I stifle a giggle at that, and reach one leg across to him, slowly sliding my foot up his leg.

‘Daddy, why? I’m innocent.’

‘Sure you are.’ He catches my foot and wraps one hand around my ankle, effectively stopping my teasing.

‘I am! You’re being mean.’

‘You’re about to see mean.’ He clears his throat and pretends to check the time. “It’s getting late, you guys. I should head out. It’s going to be an early morning for me.” He pushes his chair back and stands up, beginning to make his rounds.

“Got some hot date, Reid?” I pipe up, laughing with Emily and JJ. What they don’t know will make for a funny joke someday.

He simply glares at me, offering Garcia her goodbye hug and makes his way back through the house. About thirty seconds later, my phone buzzes.

‘In 15 minutes, I’m going to call you. You’ll pretend it’s your neighbor, she’s been locked out and needs your help. Then you’ll meet me at my place. Understood?’

‘20 minutes.’

‘I said 15.’

‘Fine, daddy.’ I groan internally, knowing I’ve got a storm waiting for me back at his apartment. Good thing I’ve got tomorrow and Monday off, to heal the bruises he’s likely to leave on my ass.

Fifteen minutes later like clockwork, my phone starts to ring. I pick it up before anyone can see the caller ID.

“Hello?” I ask, as if I don’t know who it is.

“Remember what I said. I’m your neighbor, I got locked out.” I can hear his smirk through the phone, and it takes all I have not to huff.

“Mary? You’ve been locked out? Yeah, of course, I’ll be on my way.” I hang up the phone before he can say anything else and extend a smiling apology to the team.

“My neighbor got locked out. I need to go help her, I’ve got her spare.” The team is of course, smiling and accepting, and Emily comes to help me put on my coat and close the door behind me.

“I thought your neighbor’s name was Beth.” Emily posits. I freeze, and turn to her with a smile.

“That’s what I said! Beth. My neighbor.” Emily smirks and pats me on the shoulder, laughing softly.

“Have fun with Spencer. Don’t worry, I won’t blow your cover.” She strides back towards the backyard and waves you off. All you can do is laugh, right?

…

Emily takes a seat at the table, grins at Rossi and says, “You owe me 50 bucks.”

Rossi groans. “Y/n admitted it? I thought it'd be the kid for sure.” He reaches in his pocket and pulls out a fifty, slapping it into Emily's outstretched hand while the team laughs.

...

The half hour drive home is nerve wracking and thrilling all at the same time. I wonder just how much trouble I’m in, or maybe he'll make it nice for me. He really won't be nice when he finds out Emily knows.

I pull up to his apartment, nervously stealing the last on street parking in front. Guess his neighbors will have to walk.

I make my way up to his door and shake off the nerves, settling back down into a bratty state. It's what he deserves, not paying me any attention. I bring a hand up to knock on his door, but he opens it before I can rap against the wood.

“Hello, little girl. You took quite a while.” He motions to grab my coat and ushers me in and closes the door. Even when he's angry, he's still a perfect gentleman.

“About that…Emily may have made a comment insinuating she knows that we are together.” The whole sentence comes out more like a squeak and he steps forward, pressing me against the door I just came through.

“And who's fault is that?” His knee comes ip to rest in between my legs, the tiniest bit of attention under my skirt. He leans forward and starts to press kisses into my neck, leaving barely there traces of his tongue.

“I think we were both at fault there.” I snicker, craning my neck to give him better access.

“Oh? And who started the texting tonight?” One of his hands begins to snake down and trail back up my skirt, pulling me down on his thigh. “Because it wasn't me.” I whimper at the contact and he has the audacity to laugh at me.

“You could’ve s-stopped me.” I pull off his blazer, tossing it behind us and start to unbutton his shirt when he stops me.

He catches my chin and forces it up, looking into my eyes. “Did I give you permission?”

“No.” Despite my words, my fingers keep up their work of undoing his shirt.

“Then stop, little girl.” His voice is a warning, low and quiet.

“Make me.” In one swift move he grabs both of my wrists and pins them above my head, effectively stopping any motion I might've made. Except for the part where I could grind against his knee.

“Oh, you pitiful thing. So needy for me that you have to rub against my thigh for just a little bit of friction, hm?” He's laughing at me, but he's holding his thigh just where I can get myself off, and I’m refusing to hold back my moans. So be it if his neighbors know what he's into.

“Please, daddy.” Being held up against the door, there's only so much I can do for myself.

“Please what? What do you want?” His words are kind but his tone is mocking, and his smile gives him away. He's having fun with this, torturing me.

“Please, help me, let me ride you, something, daddy, please.” I've never felt more embarrassed that I’m so turned on by being denied like this, but anything this man does turns him into more of a sex god.

He takes the begging, releases me, and sits on the couch in the living room. It occurs to me then that his blinds are open, and I decide then I don't care. If the team knows, the whole city can know. I swing a leg over his lap, straddling his thigh and locking my fingers around his neck.

His hands meet my hips and he pushes me down on his thigh, giving me more of that delicious pleasure. “Go on, little girl. Ride my thigh until you finish. But you better ask permission first.”

I bite my lip and nod at him, uttering a soft and whiny, “Yes, Daddy.” I rock myself back and forth, loving this attention I’m so desperately craving. I feel the pressure build in my stomach and throw my head back, moaning loudly as it builds and builds.

“Let me finish, please? Can I please?” The sentence hardly makes sense but luckily he's feeling nice, at least this time.

“Go on, little girl. Be good for me.” And with his words, it sends me over the edge and he kisses me, threading his tongue through my mouth and silencing my screams of his name.

“Oh, thank you, thank you.” The brat is wiped out of me at this point, too tired to keep of the façade that he doesn't own me.

He clicks his tongue, shaking his head ever so slightly at me. “You made a mess, baby.” He pushes me off of his lap and motions for me to get his pants off, which I do, tossing them behind us. He makes quick work of my dress, seeing as how my underwear were already off and in his pocket from earlier. “Stand up.”

“Why?” I whine, slumping my head against the couch cushion.

“Because I fucking said so.” He grabs my arms and pulls me up, all but throwing me over the side of the couch.

He smooths over my ass, humming appreciatively. I feel his erection pressing up against me, and I arch my back and wiggle into him.

“Oh so eager, my little girl.” He chuckles and traces a finger through my wetness, eliciting a louder moan than expected from him. “All this just from my thigh?” With no warning, he thrusts into me all at once.

“Fuck! Daddy, you feel so fucking good.” I moan, the pleasure heightening my senses and making me feel all but drunk. One glass of wine at Rossi’s is nothing compared to Spencer's dick.

He moves faster then, reaching a hand up to thread it through my hair and pull me back on to him with every thrust.

“Little girl, you're so fucking tight. How are you always this tight?” He groans through clenched teeth, fucking me with an unfair but so rhythmic thrusts of his hips. He knew how to build me back up again and it showed.

“Please, just use me, Daddy.” I choke out, every muscle in my body preparing for my impending orgasm.

“Oh, I plan to, sweet little girl. You teased me all fucking night, from the time we left to your silly little texts.” He reaches one hand down and finds my clit, rubbing circles and bringing me to the brink of orgasm for him. “You gonna come for me, baby?” He pants, drawing near to his finish. It had been two months, after all.

Almost as if on cue, my release found its way out of my body and I came around him with a loud cry of his name. He yanks my hair and buries himself into me, filling me with his simple warmth.

He collapses on top of me momentarily, before drawing out of me with a hiss and falling onto the couch.

I giggle and stand up, stretching my tired muscles. “Did you have fun, Daddy?”

“Always do with you.” He smiles, and I lean down to kiss him deeply.

“I love you.” I say, and he pulls me onto his lap. He presses another kiss against my forehead.

“I love you too. I guess Tuesday will be so much fun, huh?” I groan, thinking about the implications of the team knowing.

“Yeah. But you're worth it.” I laugh softly, and wrap my arms around his neck.

“You mean that?” I say brightly, batting my eyelashes at him dramatically.

He chuckles and says, “Always.”

taglist: @dontkissthewriter @imagining-in-the-margins @sunlight-moonrise @httpnxtt @samanddeanstolethetardis221b @spencer-reid-in-a-pool @fanficlibrary82 @dreatine @andiebeaword @zhuzhubii @prettyricky187 @reidlusts

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds #fic swap

402 notes · View notes

hyper-fxation · 4 years

Text

Café Mourning (Reid/Reader)

Summary: Reader is a barista who has been missing their favorite customer for the past three months. One rainy day, he walks in like nothing happened. A/N:  Hi there! Welcome to my first official fic! This imagine was written for @imagining-in-the-margins ‘s Discord fic swap (which was a blast, might I add). To my lovely @ctrlalt-del, this one’s for you! I hope you enjoy!

P.S: My requests/inbox are open! Feel free to send me any ideas; smut, fluff, angst, you name it!

Couple: Spencer Reid/GenderNeutral!Reader   Category:  Fluff Word Count: 1.3K

——————

The early Saturday shifts were calm, yet slightly pitiful. All they consisted of was dusting between the same few crevices about twenty-seven times, or at least until there wasn’t a single espresso grain in sight. And as if the leisurely cleaning wasn’t tiring enough, the rain pattered heavily against the building, causing everything to feel twice as dreary. Not much activity was happening at the little coffee shop on the corner, especially not at the ass crack of dawn. I’d almost given up on seeing anyone before the sun would rise when the first ring of the doorbell chimed.

“I’ll be right with you!” I watched the final beads of coffee drip into the cup before making a quick effort to tend to the customer. After all, people tended to be ruder than usual at this hour. At least, before they got their coffee.

“I’m sorry for the wait… What can I get for y-“

The ceramic slipped from my fingers as I gasped, sucking in breath as I awaited the dreaded crash by my feet. There stood the man, drenched by the morning showers. His hair hung in loose, soggy curls. He wore a soft yet longing smile across his face. That smile belonging to Spencer.

“Hey.” His eyes were wide, surprised by the sudden accident.

“Good morning! Oh my god, you’re soaked! Do you not have an umbrella?” Careful not to slip on the spilled drink, I frantically searched for any sort of towel to help his current issue, never mind the coffee.

“No, I forgot it this morning.” His eyes followed as I ducked underneath the counter, slowly peeling his now twice as heavy blazer from his shoulders.

“Spencer! You’re going to catch a cold!” I settled for a roll of paper towels, tossing them over the counter.

He stared at the towels for longer than I had expected him to before adverting his gaze back towards myself.

“Why are you staring at me like I’m the crazy one?” I couldn’t describe the way he had looked at me then. Longing, dazed, I wasn’t sure. But it had certainly set my heart into a thumping frenzy.

“Did you…call me Spencer?”

As a matter of fact, I had. A slip of the tongue, if anything. The man had never told me his name. Nor had I asked.

“Oh,” I spoke, eyes widening in alarm. “Yeah. I did. I’m sorry!”

I attempted to recall the memory of when I had first heard his name. A friend, co-worker, someone who he had arrived at the shop with months ago. She had called him Spence, to which I had assumed was a nickname for Spencer.

“One of your co-workers called you Spence so I just figured…”

“No, it’s fine!” He smiled then, noticing my panic and placing his jacket over the back of a chair. “I just didn’t realize you know my name. I definitely didn’t expect you to remember it.” His voice softened, trailing off as he slowly peeled a few towels from the roll.

His words took me by surprise; of course, I would have remembered! Spencer’s early morning presence was what kept me excited for another shift. I was always greeted with a cheerful “good morning”, a soft smile and an occasional compliment regarding my hair or outfit for the day. I wasn’t sure how I would have forgotten those soft hazel eyes followed by his small, button nose that would scrunch out of habit. I found myself drifting into my own thoughts, leaving us both in awkward silence.

“Why would I forget?” I shifted a few cups on the counter, waiting for his eyes to meet my own once again.

He placed the damp towels into the trash beside the door before running his palms over his shirt, realizing that it was still soaked before shaking his hands slightly in attempt to dry them.

“I…I just haven’t been by in a while.”

“Yeah, three months, right?” I shook my head, allowing myself to laugh at my own stupid thoughts. “A-At first I thought you’d finally gotten tired of me and were just avoiding my shift.”

He almost gasped, taken aback by my statement. “Oh, God no! No, I haven’t had a decent cup of coffee since the last time I saw you.”

A playful smile overtook my face as I offered, “Do you want to fix that?”

He seemed to relax, breathing out a sigh that I hadn’t realized he was holding in and tucking his damp hair behind his ears.

“Definitely, although I’m a little worried I’m developing a Pavlovian response to seeing you.”

I giggled as I fixed a new cup underneath the espresso machine. “The training experiment with dogs? Am I the dog or the bell?”

“You’re definitely not the dog.” He laughed as I finished his cup, placing it on the other side of the counter.

Handing him a few napkins to hold underneath the steaming drink, I studied his current appearance. “And you’re very puppy like. It suits you.”

He gave a small nod before moving to sit. I watched for a couple of seconds before turning my attention back to my obnoxious cleaning.

The shop was quiet for about two minutes, other than my audible, uncomfortable grunts as I separated the shards of glass from the coffee puddle. I allowed a few rags to soak up the mess as I sighed, placing my hands on my hips. Spencer had been watching, gulping down a rather large sip before speaking softly. “I missed you.”

Talk about the world’s heaviest eye contact as we both attempted to decide if those words were meant to be spoken before I decided to respond.

“Really?”

He seemed hesitant to answer before giving a slow nod, averting his eyes to the liquid in his cup. My heart most definitely swelled, rocking back on my heels as I watched Spencer fidget in his seat.

“…Do you want to hear something embarrassing?” I suddenly announced.

“Embarrassing for you or embarrassing for me? Because that will determine my answer.”

I gave a soft smile before responding. “For me.”

“Then continue…” He smirked behind his mug, taking a large gulp.

“So, I just remade that drink for you.”

It took him a few seconds to fully comprehend what I had said, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I made that drink for you earlier, which…” I gestured to the soaking paper on the floor by my feet. “Is the drink I dropped on the floor. But even if I hadn’t dropped it, I would have remade the drink because I was worried that you’d think I was weird for having it made already.” I felt my face flush as his eyebrows raised in question.

“How did you know I was going to come in?” He placed his cup down on a napkin, twisting it by the handle as he watched it slide. “Well, I didn’t. For three months every morning I… made one anyway. Just in case.” I stumbled upon my words, flustered as my little coffee shop crush was becoming a bit more obvious the more I spoke. “Is that weird? I’m sorr-“

I was then cut off by an aggressive screech of chair legs against the hardwood floor. Spencer sped behind the counter, stepping over the mess that had yet to be properly taken care of before pulling my body into the warmest hug I had experienced in a quite some time. Despite his attire being damp, I placed my head against his shoulder with a deep sigh.

“What’s this for?” I finally spoke as he took a step back to meet my eyes.

“I never expected anyone to have waited for me.” His words were laced with genuine sadness, his eyes sparkling with appreciation.

I shook my head with a playful smile, patting his chest softly. “You underestimate me, Spencer.”

“You? Of course not! Your barista skills, well…”

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #gender neutral reader

767 notes · View notes

love-hatred-stuff · 3 years

Text

Just a dream } Lim Sejun [victon]

genre: yandere, mild smut, fluff (,angst?)

warning(s): mentions of killing & stalking, suggestive!, mentions of other idols (subin&byungchan)

word count: about 3.3k

note: If u feel uncomfortable with any of the warnings above, feel free to skip! I will probably do more parts :)

I'm not that good in writing smut but I wanted it to be not too dirty, like there's sexual tension but everything is on a comfortable level

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎

Third person's POV

at school

Lim Sejun was your best friend, along with his stepbrother Jung Subin. You actually met Sejun through Subin.

At first only Subin was your classmate since 5th grade and you too eventually became really close. And later on, about two years, Sejun joined you because he moved here, when his Mom wanted to marry your other friends Dad.

You never never had romantic feelings for Subin, you just loved him as a friend.

But his stepbrother was something different. It wasn't like you had a crush on him, he just made you so nervous all the time.

You didn't show it, but inside you always slightly get butterflies everytime he stares at you or uses his deep voice to convince you to something.

Not to mention his looks, but he could do many things that made him get most girls attention. Though he never cared about girls except for you.

He was a rather cold person, kept most things to himself and didn't laugh very often. But when he did, it always made you happy aswell.

It was mostly you that made him giggle or smile but you never questioned it.

You were just grateful to have them as your friends. Even though the brothers fought like literally almost all the time.

But what you noticed is that Sejun was very protective over you. What you didn't know was caused by the obsession he had over you.

In the Beginning it was only a little crushing, adoring you secretly. This soon turned into serious, strong feelings, and desire that he kept inside and eventually real love.

Of course you obviously didn't know about his "little" possession, but you were everything to him and nothing would steal you from him.

Anyone that touched you inappropriately, wasn't blessed to live a long life. And he made sure of that. The killing wasn't a big deal for him, as long as you were safe it didn't matter.

School was long over, but you and Sejun were still sitting in the library to do homework and explain math to Subin when he had problems, which was like constantly.

"God, Subin! I explained this to you like a hundred times. It's Sejun's turn now, he is even smarter than me." You groaned at your friends intolerance.

You desperately looked at the dark haired boy, who sat on a chair and concentratedly wrote something on a paper.

When he was just giving you a look with a frown you sighed.

"Help your brother for gods sake! I can't do this anymore. I finished anyways, I could just go if I wanted to." You complained in a whiny manner.

Sejun still looked at you and than shortly at Subin. He shook his head.

"I'm not helping him. He has to learn himself. And he's just my stepbrother. Not my problem." He shrugged and turned to his paper.

Subin just looked absolutely cluelessly at the many numbers and even letters.

"Please Sejun! Your Mom told me to help him. She will think I'm dumb as well!" You continued, to stubborn to give up first.

"Hey!" Subin faked a hurtful look, laying his hand on his heart.

"Sorry, Binnie. But I won't explain this to you again." You touched his shoulder, smiling exclusively.

Now Sejun also noticed the contact between you too and made a noise to seperate you again and get your attention.

Your head turned to him, hoping he changed his mind.

But he just saw one thing at this moment; your thigh that was exposed because of the skirt that had slipped up 'til the beginning of you lace slip.

His eyes fixated on your beautiful legs and his mind went wild automatically. He was aroused immediately, imagining he was the one who could take it off of you.

You didn't bother to look down, where he was looking. You were just thinking he zoned out for a moment at waved your hand on front of his iced eyes.

"Sejun? Are you okay?" You wondered.

When he came back to reality he noticed how tight his jeans felt so suddenly. But managed to look up at you finally.

"Huh? Oh, yes. I will only explain this once to him, and I wanna get a treat." He wanted to compromise.

You waited a moment to process and decide if you wanted to compromise.

"Okay. What do want as your treat?" You asked innocently.

Sejun thought. How could he indirectly say that he wanted to be alone with you?

"You will go with me studiying tomorrow, after school." He grinned, secretly so excited to have you to himself for some hours.

Your eyes widened. Another study session?

"Fine, but why so obsessed with studiying? School's not everything, Junnie." You told him.

He stayed silent. If you knew what I want to do to you right now, Y/N. He thought, very aware of his bulge, growing even harder. But he couldn't do anything about it, he had to hide under the table until it would hopefully disappear.

After about half an hour, he had made everything clear for Subin. Well, supposedly. And the three of you went home.

Subin couldn't hold a moan back as he touched his boner through his black jeans. He hadn't been able to hold back the dirty thoughts of you telling him that you wanted him as much as he did. And now that he was finally home, he could release some of his inholded sexual sounds. He rarely listened to anyone but gladly would accept you as his domme.

He just loved you so much, of course he was craving for your touch. You were his only weakness at this point.

•••

the next day

You could walk to school because your house wasn't that far away. You didn't know that Sejun was always behind you, to make sure you came home safe and to enjoy your pretty features a little longer.

When you arrived and waited for you two only friends and greeted Subin happily with hug and a minute later Sejun with a sweet "Hey." Because you knew he didn't really enjoy skinship.

He greeted back politely. And thought about how pretty you looked again, although he saw you everyday in the same school uniform.

He secretly hated that the girls had to wear skirts in school. So he gave every boy who dared to look at you a second too long a warning glare to fuck off. And if they wouldn't hear, he would made sure they would never look at you again.

It was normal for him, he would keep you forever. And no one would destroy his plan.

School had ended fast and you bid your goodbyes to Subin and went to the library.

You sat down next to each other and your knees would touch every now and then, making Sejun wanting to already moan your name out loud, by just this simple touch.

One hour had passed and you slowly got bored, as you were just too done to concentrate on school stuff any longer.

"Sejun~" You whined, tucking on his blazer.

Holy fuck. He thought. I want you to whine my name like this again.

He tried to not look much affected and hummed as a response to you.

"I'm bored. I don't wanna study anymore. Let's just do something different, yes?" You tried to convince him with puppy eyes.

"What can we do?" He asked quietly, unsure if he would maybe be alowed to touch you a little.

"Kiss?" You said, leaning forward.

It wasn't really your intention but he could see some of your cleavage in this position. He told himself to keep control.

You laughed sweetly. He was so cute when he blushed.

You were just joking. But didn't know he was actually craving for the touch of your lips, just once. Once would be enough and he would be the luckiest man alive.

Now you frowned, he still wasn't looking away from your lips.

"Sejun, I was just jo-" You couldn't finish.

His hands snaked around your waist to sit you on his lap in a fast motion, disrupting you.

Him touching you in this way, affected you more than you wanted to admit.

"What are you doing?" You whispered.

Your butt sat on his thighs, your feet touched the ground. And your faces weren't that far away from each other either.

"I thought you were bored." His raspy voice made you feel the familiar butterflies in your stomach.

"Yeah, but what do want now?" You still whispered, so exited for his next move.

He grabbed your hips with more force, to shove you even further to his face.

A groan escaped his throat at the sudden friction he felt of your core grinding on his.

"You don't wanna know what I want to do to you Y/N."

He let his finger slide over your lower lip.

Why was he so changed all out of the blue?

He had waited for years to feel you right there where you sat on in this moment.

"Do you want me to stay still or move?" You asked as you were ready to risk it all.

You were feeling so out of this world, like someone would have drugged you. But you liked it, yeah, you enjoyed it.

"It's your choice, kitten. But be aware that if you cross a certain line I won't be able told back and take you right here, right now." He warned you in a husky voice, while breathing in all of your body right in his hands.

You let out a whiny moan at his dirty talking. You were kinda ready to get to his limits.

"It's okay, just tell me when I have to stop." You breathed out, against his neck.

As he felt your hot breath hit his exposed skin and at the same time, your hips moving into his he fekt like in heaven.

"Y/N~ah." He moaned out and threw his head back.

He felt like he would come right on the spot.

Between your movements you also let out hitched breaths at the immense pleasure your where giving and receiving, although you both still where having all your clothes on. But you forgot about that long ago.

Your bodys where still rocking together as he was watching all of your little expressions that showed on your face.

Though, at some point when you begin to settle kisses on his neck, jaw and cheeks, he couldn't hold himself back any longer and wanted to warn you again so it wouldn't escalate.

"Y/N, Y/N-ah, stop, it's too much!" He almost cried out for you.

You obeyed and stopped, panting a little.

"It's okay." You stroke his cheek. "We can continue this another time, Junnie." You promised.

His eyes flashed with exitement, as he struggled to come down from this so unreal seeming experience with you.

"I- I will just finish this work sheet. I have to calm down." Sejun told me as he got his ability to talk back.

He never thought, he would be able to find the confidence and touch you like this.

And you even agreed!

It was like a dream.

•••

Well, maybe it really was.

Sejun's POV

"Junnie, wake up!" Y/N shook me gently.

I was suddenly torned from my deep sleep. I breathed out and groaned.

I had dreamed everything?!

I felt so disappointed. I wished it would have happened in reality, it was the most pleasureable thing I had ever experienced in my life.

And it came out as just another wet dream of mine.

At this moment I told myself to be more confident and don't behave like a creep that hated skinship.

I had to be more cool with it, orherwise I would never get what I was craving for desperately.

"Are you okay, Sejun-ah?" She looked at me a bit worried as I still wasn't reacting at all.

But her voice finally brought me back to reality.

"No Y/N, I'm not okay." I answered.

"What is it?" She wondered.

I struggled to come up with an excuse, so I decided to be honest with her.

"You and me, we were here in the library and-"

"Oh, that? You weren't dreaming, Junnie. It happened."

I widened my eyes. It wasn't a dream? I blushed.

"But why did I fell asleep then?" I wanted to know, since it all didn't really made sense.

"You wanted to finish your paper to calm down. Well, it worked, you fell asleep." She explained

Suddenly I remembered. I had never dreamed. It had happened in real life.

Maybe I should consider sleeping more instead of watching her. I thought to myself, it was unacceptable to fall asleep during spending time with her.

•••

Third person's POV

You were sitting in the cafeteria of your Highschool, talking to your two guy friends.

It was a day like every other and everything was normal, except for Sejun's behaviour.

He was getting more confident in touching you but immediately blushed when he noticed that you were looking at him with a concerned face.

It was not like you lost interest or anything, you were still reacting to his teasing as intense as before. But you didn't thought he would want the two of you to keep doing these things.

Everything began two days ago in the library. He was getting more and more crazy for you each second.

Right in the moment he was secretly watching you talking to his stepbrother.

You were pure beauty in his eyes and he couldn't stop looking at your soft features and feminine body.

How you used your whole body while demonstrating something to Subin was something Sejun found absolutely adorable.

Every now and then you also glanced at him so he had to act like he wouldn't been staring at you the whole break long and mostly just nodded when you asked for his opinion or just wanted to include him in the conversation.

Sejun almost forgot to eat while being so busy admiring you.

When the bell rang for third period all the students stood up and he noticed that he wasn't the only one who didn't eat most of his food.

"Y/N you only ate your salad." Sejun walked next to you and pointed at your still full tablet with his finger.

You both were walking the same direction to put your tablets away and turn to your class after.

"Oh yeah, I'm not that hungry." You tried to explain.

But the actual reason was something else. You couldn't ignore Sejun's attentive look on you the whole time. You tried your best to ignore this weird feeling in you stomach but it was difficult when you knew that you had to endure that until you would be home.

"But you need to eat, to have enough energy for class." He pointed out while you made your way to the classroom.

Even if all his actions were meant to be innocent without any dirty intentions, it was hard for you to forget how you were sitting directly on his hard boner and could hear these pornografic sounds coming out of his mouth.

You liked how he had reacted to you in some way. Because no one ever had made you feel so wanted like he did that evening.

And you really gave your best to delete it from your memory but you just couldn't when you saw him every single day and felt how tensed he sometimes was. It reminded you of the Sejun that had called you Kitten.

You noticed you hadn't answered him yet and snapped out of your wild thoughts.

"Yes, I know but I have enough energy left. I promise, Junnie." You assured as you two arrived at the right room.

He just gave you a worried look and settled down on his seat like you did.

The three of you weren't directly seated next to each other but close, so the boys could still have an eye on you.

The teacher came in as well and the lesson began soon after.

Byungchan was sitting next to you since a few days, but you have no problem with that because he's very nice. Sometimes he would try to flirt with you and you would just act like you wouldn't know what he was doing.

He was also very handsome and popular at your school, though that hadn't had any affect on you. You just cared about the work you had to do together, nothing else.

Although... you do blushed when he made you a compliment, simply because you found it charming and sweet of him to care about how you looked.

What you didn't know was that Sejun was on the verge of killing him every single day since he sits next to you.

He even asked himself how to quickly and inconspicuously as possible have this done. So he would get rid of him finally.

He was so angry inside but told himself to keep his control awhile longer. You shouldn't suffer under his death too much so Sejun wanted to wait a little longer and threathen Byungchan first, to better stop flirting with you or else he had to be killed.

After a while the class was dismissed and for you, school had ended already. You completely had missed the time and were happy to be able to leave the school building already.

You packed your stuff and didn't even notice that Sejun was standing in front of you.

While he waited he stared down at you until he finally spoke up.

"Hey, Y/N. Do want to go eat ice-cream and hang out a bit maybe?" He asked as he restlessly scratched his neck.

You looked up, surprised to hear his voice instead of Subin's.

"Umm yeah, sure. But where's Subin?" You wanted to know, furrowing your brows and scanning the room to find you other friend.

"He had to leave early today. Mom told him to do his homework once in a lifetime." Sejun's monotonous voice was back and he was a little sad that you wanted to have Subin with you so badly.

You chuckled and put on your blazer and then your backpack, before you nodded at him to move on.

All students had left the classroom already so you were alone.

He started to shiver instead of leaving the room as he knew that he had to speak about what had happened between you two.

"Y/N.. I think we maybe need to talk." His shy self was back again.

"About what?" You asked, as you were wondering if he really would mention the incident again.

"About that day.. when you and I.." He wasn't able to finish his sentence, he was too insecure.

She probably doesn't want me to touch her anyways. Sejun thought and closed his eyes in brief.

"It's okay, Sejun-ah. We can just forget about it if you want." You patted his shoulder as you weren't really sure what to say or do.

"That's not it, Y/N. I want your permission to my touch. I want to be closer to you and not make you uncomfortable." The black haired boy looked to the ground, expecting you to be grossed out.

"You have my permission Sejun-ah, it's okay with me if you touch me more. I like it because I always enjoy your company. You have to know that, alright?" You gave him a warm smile when he finally found the courage to look at you.

He kept quite and nodded before leaving school with you.

He couldn't say it, but he deeply wanted to hold your hand.

You thought and felt the same so you just took the first step and interwined your hand with his.

You didn't expect this to be more than a close friendship but you enjoyed it anyways. As he always made you feel so safe and loved.

And Sejun was feeling like he just got everything he wanted in a matter of seconds. He would protect you, not caring about the rest of the world.

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎

I edited the story cover by myself but the pictures are not mine (so is the gif), credits to the owners :)

#victon sejun #kpop imagines #victon imagines #sejun smut #yandere #high school au #kpop smut

89 notes · View notes

qslovebot · 3 years

Text

Facing Music: Spencer Reid

Summary: Derek finally decides to tell Penelope how he feels about her and enlists your help in a musical confession. With all this performance and romance in the air, Spencer is inspired to tell the reader how he really feels... but words kinda suck

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings/Includes: Confessions (two different ones), kissing, FLUFFY

"Are you sure this'll work?" A very nervous Derek Morgan asked you. It was the annual BAU break outing where the team would head to a fancy restaurant and dine without the burden of a case or a dead person on your shoulders.

This year was pretty much like any other; you'd eaten, talked with, laughed with the team like usual. There was live music and waitresses who complimented your makeup when you walked in. All of you dressed nicely for the occasion. JJ was in a beautiful purple dress next to Emily, whose dress was red, and Penelope, who sported a hot pink getup. Hotch and Rossi wore tux suits, looking particularly nice. Spencer Reid wore a white dress shirt and black blazer, his curly hair slicked and brushed semi-neatly the way it always was. He looked amazing, as per usual...

Derek Morgan, next to you, wore a deep blue suit- one that not many people would be able to pull off. That just left you, in your stunning iridescent dress that shone purple and blue in the ways the light hit you. This was your second year attending this event and everyone seemed to have forgotten how beautiful you were when you weren't hunting down unsubs, gasping when you showed up.

Looping back, Derek Morgan was hardly one to be nervous, however, this event entailed a surprise. One that only you and Derek were in on. "Of course it will, Morgan. Just take a deep breath and envision the outcome. I don't think it can go wrong."

Derek Morgan was confessing his love to Penelope Garcia through a performance. Through a song... and he had enlisted your musical expertise to do it. Sure, you were nervous too, but that was just a little stage fright. Took Derek Morgan long enough to confess, anyway. You were being a friend.

It was all arranged with the restaurant and musicians and you were to go on in five minutes. Derek spun to make sure he looked alright and you shot him a grin. "Derek, it'll be great. She'll love it, just don't dwell on the fact the song is from a children's song because she loves it."

"Children's show?" His face fell into shock. "There's no way, the song is too good..."

"Tell Andre that." You peered out. You were about to sing in front of the BAU, your professional team, with Derek Morgan. I mean, at least it was back up singing but you'd be up there in the light doing the small moves you and Derek worked on for so long. The team looked confused, as you and Derek had excused yourself to go to the washroom and hadn't returned yet.

The musician on the stage waved you on. "Derek, we have exactly twelve seconds before the song begins. It's time!" Your heart raced, but not as bad as his must have been. Derek Morgan climbed onto the stage quietly and you were by his side, flashing him a reassuring grin.

The song was Countdown by Andre from Victorious, Penelope's second favourite character. The team didn't notice you both yet, that was until the drumset hit three times and the song launched into action, diverting the team's attention right up to the stage.

JJ and Emily both covered their mouths with their hands when they saw you and Derek onstage. The song was upbeat, fun, loud, and soon seconds later the rest of the team had your attention. Garcia's mouth fell open in recognition of the song and turning to see Derek up there, she squealed. Hotch's mouth twitched a little and Rossi was already smiling- it seemed they had caught on. But hopefully not onto where the song was from.

Spencer, however, had dropped everything in his hands to watch his best friend confess, his mouth open in that gorgeous unbelieving smile. That's when the lyrics began and the real performance started. You were singing the backup and it was pretty easy, as you'd practiced.

Rossi was clapping along, Hotch was actually smiling and it was a smile like a proud father's. Emily looked at you, mouth open like 'really?' and you nodded back. You were entirely into this, not worrying anymore. You were grinning, exhilarated and performing.

Now, from Spencer's mind, he was surprised. First of all, he wouldn't have expected a song and dance from Derek Morgan tonight of all nights. Secondly, pardon his social cues but if he didn't know better he'd say Derek was confessing to Penelope, gesturing to her over and over as he danced. Third, how could he really focus on Derek when you stood behind him in that dress he liked so much when you walked in?

You were gorgeous to him tonight and it took him quite a lot not to stare at dinner. He watched you laugh with Emily and hid his smile, occasionally jumping in to make a joke about Emily in high school or make fun of the knowledge of you wanting to be a candle-maker in college. You told him it was a phase, scowling at him, but that interaction made his heart skip a beat. He didn't know that you adored him the same way.

He liked you, of course. He had for a while and was constantly kicking himself for accidentally ranting to you, afraid of what you'd think, but every time he did, you just listened. And that worsened his crush.

His eyes fell on you onstage, all-in to the performance in support of Derek who was now walking down the steps of the stage toward Penelope. She was flailing her hands around, freaking out, and you were up there smiling. Spencer's heart skipped another beat.

You can imagine how he felt when your eyes settled on him, noticing how he was looking at you rather than Derek and Penelope and shooting him a small grin as the upbeat song finally came to an end.

Spencer turned pink, watching Derek and Penelope out of embarrassment now. He should have been watching them and now he was caught staring at you in that dress with that intoxicating smile, breathing hard from the ending of it all.

You hopped down the steps and stood behind Derek supportively, the entire restaurant applauding. Spencer was too out of it, too lost in his mind to properly clap as Derek took Penelope under the chin, speaking into the microphone.

"We've spent too long dancing in circles, I think it's high time I tell you that I'm in love with you, babygirl." He announced. "Will you go out with me?"

Garcia took a breath, then squealed, "YES!" And the restaurant broke into applause again. Hotch actually sported a full smile now and Derek pulled into a long kiss. Spencer's mind just raced with ideas as he looked from them to you. As happy as he was for his friends, he couldn't stop thinking about how in the world he would ever confess his feelings for you.

Back in your mind, you watched the two kiss with a grin on your face. "Ew!" You laughed, rocking on your heels. As happy as you were for them you couldn't stop thinking about how nobody would ever do this much for you. You weren't supposed to be jealous of friends... so you shoved that feeling down.

----

When everyone said goodbye in the parking lot, the air was sweet and the spirits were high. Most of the team remarked on your voice and how they had no idea you could sing at all. Hotch pat you and Derek both on the back, leaving happier than you'd all seen him in a while.

Penelope wouldn't stop thanking you, giving you a hug every few seconds. Eventually, she did leave with Derek, leaving you to sit and wait for a taxi. You pulled out your phone and sat on the bench, finding the number of the taxi company.

"I didn't know you could sing..." Spencer's voice said from above you. He had his hands in his pockets and he was rocking on his heels.

You laughed, "Neither did anyone else but Derek, I was surprised when he asked me."

"Can I-uh, sit?" He asked, gesturing to the spot next to you on the bench and you moved to the side to make room. He took it as a yes and sat down next to you. "I knew they'd end up together."

"It was inevitable," you replied, tucking your phone into your pocket to properly engage with Spencer. "One way or another he had to make her his official 'babygirl'."

His smile was a little crooked, but still sweet. Spencer's hands fiddled with each other in his lap and there was a moment of silence between you two. Probably because Spencer was racking his brain for the best way to say 'watching that confession gave me a spark of inspiration to confess that I really, really like you and have since your very first day at the BAU' without scaring you off.

"I-"

"You look-"

You spoke at the same time and both chuckled a little. You looked at Spencer for him to continue, but now he was rethinking again, so you continued. "You look really great tonight, I just wanted to say."

"T-thank you..." Spencer said. His mind was racing for something better to say.

Saying I love you is too much- he thought. Besides, he didn't love you yet. He just really liked you. He was already kicking himself for stuttering and you were just inches from him he could just grab your hand if he wanted to. But how would you react? That was Spencer's main worry. What would he say? How would he ever measure up to Derek's performance and would he even get the chance?

You and Spencer sat on that bench for seven minutes in silence. His inner thoughts were a mess and you were oddly at ease with his presence.

You turned to him and this was the moment his brain glitched. His entire IQ slashed down to about 34 when you looked at him the way you did. Tired, but glowing, was how you looked. Your eyelashes in focus as you looked over at him and rather than his heart skipping another beat, he could swear it stopped. And he malfunctioned.

He leaned forward and kissed you.

It was unexpected to both of you. Spencer didn't even seem to have had a thought about a kiss and you weren't expecting anything remotely like this. The first half-second, thoughts jumbled at the front of your mind, but the next, you kissed him back.

His thin hand came to rest on your jaw and cheek, keeping you in place. His heartbeat had risen in a complete panic as to how this was even happening, but you were here and you were in fact kissing him back. This was a lot better than the words of panicked confession that Spencer had semi-planned out.

So Spencer liked you. You could assume that from the frantic, sudden kiss. The world seemed to slow to allow this event and after about forty seconds of your lips on his, with gentle fingers and soft kissing, you pulled away.

"I'm-I'm sorry about that..." Spencer said, shrinking back a little. "I didn't even mean to, it was- it was on impulse, I didn't even think it through-"

But you kissed him again on your own will. It was your turn to go without thinking. His hand right back on your face and another good few moments passing of just that kiss. He pulled away this time, a grin spreading up his face. "Is this confession enough because words really suck," You smiled.

He went to speak and you kissed him again. He just started laughing that silent laugh, "Most effective way to shut me up and yes, words su-" he cut himself off by kissing you again and that lead to you both laughing through it. You hadn't seen Spencer this laid back and happy for a while- as you hadn't seen the rest of the team happy either. It felt good to be this close with him, to make him laugh. It felt good to have given the team something to be happy about.

The night just got better, it seemed, from the very start. And you kissed Spencer a lot more than you had anticipated, but that was alright because he wasn't expecting that either. It seemed like Derek and Penelope weren't the only ones with feelings out in the open now.

"How long?" You asked after a while of not letting each other talk. Spencer offered you a ride home and you walked to his car with him.

"Since your orientation," Spencer answered, cringing a little. Your eyes widened. "I remember you wore... a bell-sleeved blouse and flared dress pants. You asked me where to get tea." His car unlocked.

You gaped, "And I didn't know for two years?"

"I suppose not..." he chuckled. "And how long have you been trying to convince yourself not to like me?"

"Never." You hopped into the passenger's seat. "I was always just confused and never really knew what to do with it. But... I'm now a lot less confused."

He paused before turning the key to start the engine. You wondered what thought had slipped into his vast mind. He looked up at you, hair coming undone from its styling. "Are you... happy?"

"Completely." You replied with zero hesitation and he exhaled hard, seemingly of relief. "And I want to be with you... if you let me." You continued warily, but mostly with reassurance.

His cheeks flushed in the dark again. "Yes- I- wow..." He couldn't seem to form words, but that was okay. Words sucked. Words really, really did suck.

Everything worked out perfectly.

tags:@mercy-burning ,@ellyhotchner ,@laurakirsten0502

#spencer reid #criminal minds #cm #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #fluff #criminalminds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaronhotchner #penelopegarcia #penelope and derek #derekmorgan #spencerreid #dr spencer reid

68 notes · View notes

smartycvnt · 3 years

Text

Sleeping With the Enemy - Chapter 1

Warnings: kicking things off with a bit of smut, gotta set the tone somehow i guess

You had spent your entire life in the state of Georgia. The majority of that time had been spent in a small town, Logansville. It was the kind of place where everybody had known everybody and you’d always sort of hated it. There hadn’t been much of an opportunity for you to really explore who you were and what you wanted to be back home. So, when you’d gotten the chance to go to Atlanta for college, you had stayed there.

In the city, you hadn’t known anybody. Eventually, you stumbled on a familiar face in the form of one of your brother’s friends, Amanda Rollins. She’d come up to try and be a “big city cop” and the two of you grew pretty close in Atlanta. That being said, it was only a matter of time before you followed her up to New York. It definitely took a couple of years for you to get your bearings together before, but eventually you managed to get a job with the same unit at the DA’s office.

“You look so good,” Amanda told you as she hugged you tightly. Even after Amanda had left Atlanta, you’d kept going into the gym without her. A part of you had held out that she’d come back down for a visit, but she never did.

“Couldn’t have you showing up for a surprise visit and kicking my ass, now could I?” Amanda let go of you and the two of you started walking down the street. “Where are you taking me?”

“A bar.” It looked like a sports bar and you frowned. You knew that Amanda had issues with gambling, it had really been her only vice when the two of you had been staying with each other. “Don’t look at me like that. You wanna go to one of those fancy lawyer bars?”

“Well, I am about to be a fancy lawyer Mandy,” you pointed out. Amanda rolled her eyes at you and hailed a cab to take the two of you to a nicer part of the city.

“I am not dressed for this kind of place,” Amanda grumbled. You, on the other hand, definitely were. You’d been pretty high up at the Atlanta DA office and you’d started to venture into private practices before you’d put in for a transfer. There, you had to dress to impress everyday, especially with some of the bigger shot boys who liked using your rural upbringing against you.

“Like you’d let something so trivial get in the way of you livin’ your best life,” you reminded her. Just as you opened your mouth to say something else, her phone started ringing.

“Sorry. Raincheck?” Amanda asked as she answered the call. You nodded and ended up at the bar anyways while Amanda went to meet her partner at a crime scene. There was a pretty good chance that you’d end up taking this case, which excited you. The potential for getting to start your job so quickly after moving was great, you hated sitting around and doing nothing. “Hey, call me when you get home.”

“You too,” you told Amanda as you got out of the cab. With a deep breath, you stepped into the bar. Inside, it reminded you of the places your old boss used to hang around. There was a designated smoking section upstairs, but the smell of cigars was heavy in the common area. Remembering that confidence was key and that any number of these patrons could be potential court rivals, you swaggered up to the bar and sat down.

“What can I get you miss?” the bartender asked you.

“Bourbon on the rocks please, mid shelf,” you told him. He nodded and grabbed a bottle from the fourth shelf and a glass. You passed him a $50 and he told you that you were good for about 5 drinks with it. So, you sat at the bar with your glass of bourbon, watching as other people walked around and spoke with each other.

“Let me guess, low level corporate law?” Rita asked you. Technically, she’d been correct, back in Atlanta, your private practice stuff had pertained mostly to mid-level corporations. You didn’t handle anything like Amazon, but your clients were big enough for your move up to New York to go without a financial hitch.

“You’re pretty good, but that was back home. I’m in a new place now, doing new things.” You tipped your glass back and finished the rest of your drink. "You're a big shot, ain'tcha?"

"Looking to climb some ladders?" Your cheeks heated up at the assumption. It wasn't exactly an accurate one, but it'd make you feel a little guilty for wanting to go home with her. She took notice of your change in demeanor and waved the bartender over. "Can we get a couple more drinks? Oh, and keep hers on my tab."

"I take it that you aren't gonna give me any boosts," you teased a little.

"Something tells me that my word wouldn't mean much to your bosses. I'm Rita." She held a hand out for you to shake.

"Y/n," you introduced yourself as you took her hand. Her hands were soft, but you could tell that they were strong as well. You glanced up at her briefly to see her checking out your hands, something dirty running through her mind.

"What would you say to a couple more drinks with me and then we can see where the night takes us?" Rita asked you. You gave her a small nod in agreement to her suggestion as you downed your drink.

"I can think of a couple places I'd like to spend the night." The two of you shared a look and Rita set her glass down on the bar.

"Come on, there's no use staying here and wasting money on drinks we don't need," Rita told you. You grabbed your jacket and started walking out of the bar. Rita was fairly close behind you. "Car's waiting."

"Nice car," you noted as she got the door for you. You slid over all the way and she sat down next to you. She tapped on the partition and the car began to pull forward.

There wasn't much need for conversation on the drive to Rita's place. Her intentions were clear as day from the look in her eye and the way that her hand rested on your thighs. You let her slowly move her hand up, enjoying the little teasing game the two of you had begun.

"Come here," Rita whispered to you. You turned your head to face her and she placed her hand on your cheek. Slowly, she leaned forward and pressed her lips against yours. You pressed forward and she slid her tongue along your bottom lip. You parted your lips slightly and she slid her tongue inside of her mouth. Her tongue tasted like expensive wine with a hint of something smooth and dark. "You taste sweet, like honey."

Heat rose to your cheeks at Rita’s statement. Inside the car, there was nowhere for you to hide away. So, you decided to do something a little bold. Your hand slid in between the two of you, resting just under the bottom of her skirt. Rita shifted slightly, parting her thighs a bit as she did so. You inched your hand up a bit more and Rita leaned her forehead against yours.

“If you’ve got a move to make, don’t hesitate,” she advised you. You let your hand keep going, but just as you reached the outside of her underwear, the car stopped. She sighed, obviously annoyed with the timing, but slid away from your gracefully and stepped out of the car. You were certain that you did not look nearly as composed as you followed Rita upstairs into her apartment.

The elevator ride was a short one, but your concept of time was shot. All you wanted was to feel the press of Rita’s skin against yours. With every step you took towards Rita’s apartment, the faster your heart began to beat in your chest. Excitement and anticipation coursed through your body.

“I could offer you a drink or we could skip that and go straight to my bedroom,” Rita offered.

“I think we can skip the drinks.” Rita took your hand and led you down a hallway. She pushed open her bedroom door and shrugged off her blazer. You started on unbuttoning your shirt as she turned around and pulled you into another kiss. The bit of space between the door and her bed was now littered with both of your clothes.

Rita laid you back on the bed and straddled your waist. You stared up at her, letting your eyes take in every inch of her offered to you. The two of you shared a couple of kisses, the intensity building with each one. Rita’s tongue explored your mouth with the same eagerness of your hands on her body. Your back arched, pushing your hips into hers.

“I’d tell you to be patient, but that’s not why we’re here, is it?” Rita chuckled at you. It was a husky chuckle, one that sent chills down your spine. Rita trailed her finger down the valley of your breasts, stopping when she reached around where your ribs started. Your heart began to absolutely race as you watched Rita lean down and go over the same path with her tongue. Unlike with her fingers, Rita moved her tongue all the way down to your hips.

She placed her hands on your knees and spread your legs apart. You watched her with baited breath as she leaned down in between your legs. Both of her hands slid down the length of your thighs, blunt nails scratching lightly over your skin. Ever so slowly, Rita leaned forward and dragged her tongue through your folds.

She hummed at the taste of you on her tongue. Below her, you were writhing in pleasure as she sucked your clit into her mouth. Rita quickly moved her mouth down to lap at your entrance, licking up what was beginning to drip down. Rita briefly leaned away from you, but before you could let out a whine, she pushed two fingers inside of you.

“Oh, fuck,” you groaned as she started to slowly fuck you. Rita sat back and watched as she pumped her fingers in and out of you. Rita moved her other hand in between your legs, rubbing your clit. You bit your lip to keep from screaming out, bucking your hips to match the speed of Rita’s fingers inside of you.

“Be a good girl, don’t hold back,” Rita told you. She leaned forward a bit until she was practically hovering over you. Rita’s fingers curled inside of you and your head pushed back against the mattress. Your mouth fell open, moans and swears pouring out from your lips. “You’re so close aren’t you? I can feel you around my fingers.”

You glanced up at Rita, noting the smirk on her face as she curled her fingers against your g-spot once again. Her fingers rolled over your clit and you absolutely lost it. Rita moved her hand away from your clit, but kept her fingers slowly rocking inside of you. She waited until your body relaxed before pulling out of you completely.

“Look at me,” Rita told you as she moved to straddle you again. You forced yourself to keep your eyes open and look at her. A fire was set inside of you as you watched her lick your cum off of her fingers. You grabbed Rita’s hips and flipped the two of you so that you were on top.

Rita’s hands entangled themselves in your hair as she guided your head in between her legs. You could see that she was soaked, and it looked like she’d been touching herself. It was obvious that Rita didn’t need any teasing, not that you believed she’d take it from you anyways. She was a woman who got what she wanted and you were more than prepared to give it away.

“Fuck me,” Rita told you as she stared down at you. You let her pull your head in closer until your mouth was on her clit. Your tongue circled the bundle of nerves several times before you ran the flat part over it. Rita cried out in pleasure as you continued that. Her hips chased friction as you traced your fingertips over her entrance.

You hummed happily as your fingers were enveloped with her warmth and wetness. Above you, Rita commanded more, to which you happily obliged. You kept going faster, keeping a quick pace with three fingers inside of her. You curled them several times, relishing in how she’d shake when you did. When Rita came, she came hard, the evidence of her arousal coating your fingers and dripping down along your hand and wrist.

“Goddamn,” Rita panted. You moved out from between her legs and laid down on the bed. The sheets were soft, something you hadn’t noticed until now. Exhaustion began to settle in, but Rita had yet to tell you that you had to leave. Chances were you could make it away early enough in the morning to avoid anything too awkward. Normally, you’d just bolt as soon as the two of you were finished, but then Rita rolled over a little and you could feel her body pressing against yours. Between Rita and the sheets, there was no way that you were going anywhere that night.

Taglist: @storiesofsvu @xixxiixx @wannabe-fic-reader @gay-ass-bitch @mysticfalls01

#Rita Calhoun #rita calhoun x reader #rita calhoun imagine #rita calhoun imagines #Law & Order: SVU #SVU #svu imagine #svu imagines #svu x reader #Sleeping With the Enemy

78 notes · View notes

dancingazaleas · 3 years

Note

Can you write a modern au Historia Reiss x fem!reader imagine where the reader is in a band and has a very punk rock style, and Historias the popular cheerleader everybody drools over, and they hate each other but at a party some girl is flirting with the reader so historia takes her and fucks the reader silly in a bathroom and after confesses her feelings to r?

historia reiss | promise

ofc!!! pls i literally love cheerleader!historia. i hope this is good enough <33 !!

18+ pls ! [unedited]

warnings/notes: cursing, use of alcohol and drugs, eventual smut, jealous dom!historia, modern au!, college au!, cheerleader!historia, bathroom sex, degradation, slight praise, enemies to lovers supremacy, fem reader!, finger fucking, hints at pegging, and aftercare

you’re pissed, so pissed that you’re seeing white. you only know that you’re sitting under the bleachers of your college campus and that your best friend, annie, is sitting beside you.

historia reiss, the popular cheerleader adored by everyone, decided it would funny if she pulled a prank on you. the prank being drenched in ice water and then pouring pink glitter on your body from the second floor of campus.

the glitter stuck everywhere, even in your mouth. before you scrubbed some of it off, you looked like a bath bomb. the water made it stickier and made you cold.

you don’t know what kind of vendetta historia has against you, you’ve only just met her two years ago! you hadn’t even really talked her up until your freshman year of college. even then, you don’t think you had said anything rude or wrong.

you just assume she gets pleasure out of your suffering.

you’re ranting about historia to annie, who witnessed the whole incident, still covered head-to-toe in glitter. she’s smoking a cigarette and listening to you absentmindedly, a sign that she’s getting slightly annoyed. she grabs your jaw with her hand and turns your face towards her. she’s taking in a breath and you know exactly what she’s about to do.

when she pulls the cigarette away, she blows the smoke into your face and let’s go of your jaw.

“thanks for that,” you grunt, the smell always seems to calm you down for some odd reason.

“y’know, instead of ranting, you could go home and take a shower,” she looks sleepy as she holds onto her cigarette.

“i know. but she’s just so frustrating! wanna know what makes her even more frustrating?!”

annie decides to play along, she thinks you ranting is funny, “what?”

“she’s hot. scratch that, she’s literally gorgeous. she looks like a fucking goddess and has the personality of a witch,” you shout angrily, following annie’s movements of getting up and walking towards your dorm.

“i dunno,” she snickers, “she’s pretty nice to me.”

“yeah, cause she’s got some sort of vendetta against me. i swear—i have never done a single thing to her!! do you remember when she bashed our band?! does she even listen to punk?!”

annie’s made a mistake in encouraging you, “anyways. speaking of our band, don’t forget we’re playing tonight at eren’s house.”

“you mean at his frat house,” you snort, bumping your shoulder into her’s. you immediately regret it when you pull away and see pink glitter stick to her shirt and a shiver going down her spine.

“yeah, whatever. thank god he’s loaded enough to pay for a band. i can’t believe his dad just gives him and zeke cash,” annie coughs while she chuckles, smoke puffing out of her nose.

you’re laughing at her coughing, slapping her firmly on the back as you walk.

you don’t notice large blue eyes staring at you from far away.

————

you’re trying to ignore the idiotic comments annie’s making while mikasa does your eyeliner.

you, mikasa, annie, and—surprisngly—jean are getting ready for your show tonight.

originally, it had just been you, annie, and mikasa until mikasa and jean had started dating. she vouched that he could play the drums—and he definelty could. he also gets along surprisingly well with you and annie.

mikasa usually sings back-up for you—despite your begging for her to be the lead—and plays the electric keyboard.

annie’s on bass guitar. she gets stupidly smug everytime she’s done playing and the praise she gets from her girlfriend doesn’t help. annie also writes most of your songs.

“guys, we should make a bet,” annie’s twirling some of her hair, eyeing you and mikasa.

“what’s the bet,” jean smirks and raises a bushy brow. mikasa and you give a hum of approval.

“i bet that one girl is gonna be all over (name) tonight,” you snort sarcastically.

“elizabeth? i think she’s trying to seduce me so i’ll partner up with her for this project we have coming up in our music history class,” mikasa’s pullled away, screwing the cap of the eyeliner back onto the bottle. she hands you coal black lipstick.

“you know what i bet,” jean starts, you know it isn’t gonna be good, “historia’s gonna be eyefucking (name) all night.”

you’re in the middle of applying lipstick but you stop at his statement.

“no, before you say something, jean’s gotta point,” mikasa muses, fanning her hand.

“yeah. dunno how you didn’t noticed,” annie shrugs, hopping out of her chair and stretching her arms upwards.

you’re irritated and finished with your lipstick, eyebrows furrowed bitterly.

“anyways,” you grit your teeth, “it’s showtime.”

————

it’s been five minutes since you and the band performed, and after all that belting you just want a drink. you’re walking through the messy and huge kitchen, trying to avoid stepping on spilled shots and egg yolk—who knows—because these boots were expensive.

luckily, most people are partying like a mob in the main room of the smelly frat house. it smells like weed, everywhere. and when you open the fridge you see a long platter of chocolate brownies, is eren alright? you shrug internally, snatching a water bottle that’s sitting on the top shelf.

after you’ve closed the fridge door and opened it, you’re chugging the water bottle like your life depends on it. when you pull away, you try to not notice the lipstick stain and that you’ve drank the bottle more than halfway. you’re leaning on the island in the middle of the kitchen, you don’t plan on partying too much since you’re supposed to be the designated driver for annie, mikasa, and jean.

you’re about to take another swig of your water, eyes staring down at your phone and continuing to read a article. before you can bring the bottle to your lips, teasing laughter from your front is distracting you.

it’s historia, wearing a baby blue v-neck tank top that ends at her ribs. she has a white skirt on, pulled up to the middle of her bellybutton and stopping at her upper thighs. her shoes are white and chunky with sparkly blue butterflies on the sides of them. her makeup’s cute, a light blue sprinkling on the outside corners of her eyes that tickled her cheekbones, a light and natural (for her at least) pink lipstick on her lips coated with shiny gloss. she’s pretty.

“fuck do you want,” you frown with narrowed eyes, you’re praying there aren’t anymore tricks.

“nothing, nothing!,” she’s got a cheery smile on her face, “just wanted to see how you were doing! i cant even do that?”

rolling your eyes, you scoff, “not after you drenched me in ice cold water and then poured glitter on me. it took me two hours to get rid of the glitter in the shower.”

she’s opening her mouth, but you’re already done with her shit, “fuck off, dude.”

you’re stomping out of the kitchen, huffing with frustration. what the fuck was historia trying to play at? she’s such a cunt, pulling these mean pranks on you with no provocation and then coming up to you after and asking how you are?

you’re seething. you’re so angry you’re not even paying attention to where you’re going.

but it’s interrupted when you bump into someone’s back. lower... back.

said person, turns around and looks down at you. she’s tall, and you’ve seen her around campus with eren and zeke. she’s quiet and cunning, you’ve heard rumors that she gets paid to beat people up sometimes. you can’t really judge her, money’s money.

but she’s also gorgeous. glowing gold eyes and choppy blonde hair. she’s wearing a loose black blazer that closes at her sternum and down, with nothing underneath. she’s got some kind of necklace—you think it says ‘p’ or ‘z’—and pretty silver rings on her fingers. her heels make her tower over you more than she probably would without them on.

“shit, my bad,” you sigh and look away.

she shakes her head, the tiniest smile painting her face and her cheeks turn a little red.

“you’re alright,” she hums, “i don’t think i’ve met you. i’ve definitely seen you around, but no one’s ever given me a name.”

“oh, i’m (name),” you smile shyly, “i don’t know your name either.”

she chuckles a bit, somehow wrapping her hand in your’s and leading you to a nice loveseat. her nails are painted black and you feel inclined to put your legs over her lap.

“i’m surprised,” and that’s when you notice zeke and pieck on the couch next to you, “there are a lot of rumors about me. however, i guess whoever told you—or didn’t—left me anonymous. i’m yelena.”

you give a laugh, watching her throw her arm up onto the top of the couch. you’re cuddling her side within seconds, drawing a deep chuckle from her. her other hand reaches to your cheek, making you look up at her. she’s holding your chin with her thumb and staring at you with her hypnotizing eyes.

“you’re just the cutest,” she mumbles, letting go of your face and tapping your nose.

you’re getting embarrassed at the attention, and you don’t know what to say other than ‘thank you’. you’ve never been pussy whipped a day in your entire life, but you think you might change that.

she’s leaning in closer, ignoring the couple, who was staring at you two with amusement, that sat on the couch cuddling. you feel like you recognize them for a moment, but the thought it forgotten whenever yelena kisses you fervently.

she’s running her tongue across your lip and the shiver that goes down your spine makes you realize she has a tongue piercing. she’s pushing you down to lay on the couch, to which you happily oblige, her hand crawling up to your neck.

before you can even let her shove her tongue in your mouth and choke you, your hand is being tugged and all of a sudden your upper torso and body is on the floor and your head is aching. you’re dazedly looking at yelena, who’s just as surprised as you are, then turning to the couple on the couch.

holy fucking hell, how did you not realize that the couple was pieck and zeke. that isn’t even your main focus when another tug to your wrist pulls your lower half off the couch.

“what the fuck?!” you’re suddenly not dazed anymore, “let go of me!”

you’re snatching your arm away and scrambling to your feet, tugging down your short dress that rode up. you turn around to face the assaulter, only to look down and see historia.

historia grabbed you?!

before you can even scream or slap her, she’s, once again, pulling you away by your wrist. for such a small girl, she’s got a tight grip.

you’re stumbling as you follow her, not like you couldn’t, yelling profanities. you pass by annie, who spits out her drink at the sight of you, it startles her girlfriend, hitch. you mouth a ‘help!’ towards her just as you’re swung forward.

it takes you a second to balance yourself out, and before you can turn yourself around, you’re being shoved forward.

what the fuck is her deal?!

you’re pushed into a bathroom, finally turning around to see historia as you fall on your ass. she’s slammed the door closed and locked it, staring at you on the ground.

“the fuck is your damage,” you scream, leaning against the bathroom counter.

“you’re a fucking slut, that’s what!” she’s yelling back, now standing in front of you. her hands are trapping you against the counter, and you’re looking down at her.

“you’re a dirty little slut. you can’t help but get down with a woman when i’m not with you for five fucking minutes,” you can’t even open your mouth and opted to push yourself towards the counter more as you squeeze your thighs together.

“look at you,” she’s laughing mockingly, “you look like a dog in heat. are you enjoying this, you fucking whore?”

you whimper, shaking your head side-to-side.

“you’re a liar,” she’s laughing again, standing on her tip toes to brush her lips against your’s.

“i’m not.”

“if you’re not, go ahead and push me away then,” she smirks, leaning closer.

you look away, listening to the mocking giggle that she was releasing right in your face. her left hand is grabbing you by the jaw and forcing you to look at her.

“can i kiss you,” her look softens and you nod at her.

“yes,” and within a second, her lips are on your’s. the kiss is surprisingly gentle and sweet.

with a bit on your lip, her tongue is rubbing against your’s and her hands sliding under the thin straps of your dress. you’re whining when she pulls away and laughs. your dress is halfway down your body, chest jumping up and down as you pant from the lack of breath.

“look at you, baby,” she turns your head to the side, which gives you a profile view of yourself in the mirror. your lipstick’s smudged in the corner of your mouth, eyeliner’s smuged as well as your eyeshadow.

weak product.

“you need better makeup,” she’s giggling as she leans her head towards your neck.

she’s kissing and sucking almost everywhere on your neck and chest, as if she were marking her property. moans are bouncing off the walls as her hands release your boobs from the strapless bra you’re wearing and sucking on your nipples. honestly, you’re glad it’s off. it’s been tiring having to pull it up everytime it slipped even just a bit.

you tug at her blonde hair when her small hand gropes one tit and her mouth bites at the other. she’s tugging the rest of your dress down with her free hand, and it pools around your boots. she goes back up to kiss your lips, laughing in your mouth as you struggle to kick off your boots. she’s kissing at your cheek and ear, tugging at the waistline of your fishnet tights.

“might wanna take these off too if you don’t want them ripped,” yelping when she bites at your earlobe.

“i...,” you’re catching your breath, “need help.”

she giggles while nodding, helping you shimmying the tights down to your knees.

“jump up on the counter, babe. it’ll make it easier for me,” you’re obident and jumping on the cool bathroom counter, it makes you shiver.

historia’s on her knees, shoes kicked off, and her fingers tickle your legs when she’s sliding the tights off your legs. she’s got a sultry look on her face when she throws said tights over her shoulder, palming your kneecaps. she bites back her smirk when she pulls your knees apart, showing off your black panties. you fall back against the mirror and you lean mostly on your elbows, ignoring the loud bang that came from it.

her mouth’s leaving open mouthed kisses against your inner thighs, pants leaving your mouth. her fingers hook around the waistband of your panties, tugging them down quickly whenever you lift your hips.

your going to close your legs, but her hands prevent you from doing so. her eyes are glued to your pussy, lips spread open and your wetness shining in the light. you’ve got a little hair on your pubis, but that isn’t going to stop historia reiss from changing her name to sasha braus.

she’s sucking at your clit and spreading your legs apart as far as she can. she pulls away from your pussy just for a second.

“keep your legs open,” she says, a thumb rubbing circles into your clit.

it’s lazy and it’s satisfying, but it’s not enough to make you cum. she knows that.

you’re letting out high pitched moans and fingers tangled in her golden locks as she eats you out like a man starved.

‘i wish i had realized that i’m gay sooner,’ you think as historia slowly slides her middle finger inside of you.

you’re throwing your head back against the mirror when she suddenly adds a second finger, claiming that you could take it since you’re a slut.

considering your wetness is dripping down your ass and onto the counter, you can’t really object the statement.

she’s curling her fingers inside you, mouth closed around your clit. your moans go up an octave when she finds the spongy part inside of you, thrusting her fingers in and out of you after she angles her digits.

“fuck!” you moan and start clawing at historia’s free arm, which is holding down your hips.

“h-historia...,” you pant, “gonna cum... pl..please let me cum.”

her laughter sends vibrations across your clit, and that’s what sends you over the edge. you’re crying out as historia helps you ride out your orgasm by slowing her fingers down and pulling away from your clit. historia’s admiring you while she wipes off your juices from her chin, a small smile adorning her lips.

your head is thrown back against the mirror—once again. eyes rolled back and mouth opened in a silent moan. the hand that was gripping at her arm is clenched in a fist that has your knuckles painted white. your toes are curled and your back is arching in the air.

she doesn’t pull her fingers out of you until your calm, letting you catch your breath before she does it all over again.

———

your legs are trembling as she helps you sit down on the toilet.

you know you look like a mess—historia’s been forcing you to watch yourself. the eyeliner and mascara you have on is now smeared and ran down your face since you cried. your lipstick is smeared up and down, worse than last time, and your hair is messed up and tangled from historia pulling on it.

historia’s squatting before you, looking for a rag to wet down and clean you up with.

“next cabinet over,” you breath, throwing your head back.

“you know who’s bathroom this is?”

“yeah, jean’s in this frat too. him and marco share it. this place is pretty nice when there isn’t a party going on,” you giggle, somehow this whole situation seems funny to you.

she’s running hot water over the rag she now has, staring at herself in the mirror. historia’s got hickeys on her neck too and teeth marks on shoulders. she’s got glittery blue on her cheek, must be her mascara.

she turns off the water and wrings it out. she walks over to you, nudging your legs open with her knee. you comply and absentmindedly reach for one of her hands to hold. she takes the offer, squatting in front of you and cleaning up the slightly dried cum and juices on your thighs and vagina.

you shiver and let out little whines and whimpers, still sensitive from the previous orgasms. historia was also still wearing something. something that you didn’t even know she had.

a fucking 6 inch strap on.

“by the way,” you start, “how’d you get your strap-on here?”

“i came to the house before eren started throwing the party. i brought a bag with me and just hid it in the empty cabinet. i think eren wanted to hook up with me and mentioned something about pegging. brought it in case,” she explains, small smile spreading across her face as she starts cleaning your face.

you start giggling again, the hand that wasn’t holding her hand weakly grabbing at her wrist.

“hisu... can i get a kiss,” you pucker your lips when she pulls away the rag from you. she flips the rag to a clean slide, rubbing herself in the same areas as she did for you.

historia holds your cheek and gives you the sweetest kiss you’ve ever had.

“i’m gonna take you back to mine and ymir’s place. you’re still in sub-space and you wobble instead of walk,” she says, squatting down again to help you get your panties on.

she’s able to get your dress on the lower half of your body, but you both realize there’s a fucking cum stain on the chest. historia gives you a jacket that was in her bag, zipping it halfway. the dress stayed sitting at your waist, you’re to tired to get it open even if you have a cover up.

she’s done cleaning everything up within ten minutes, including herself. she throws the rag in a hamper in the bathroom closet that had jean’s name written on it in sharpie.

she’s slipping the bag on her shoulder and helping you walk with the other one. when you walk out, ymir is leaning on the wall by the door with a smirk.

ymir squats down a bit, laughing at your shaky legs every time you took a step. historia and her manage to get you on ymir’s back. you fall asleep before you three can get to the car.

———

when you wake up, your whole lower body is sore. your eyelids feel heavy as you open them, coming to your senses. you recognize ‘dance moms’ playing in the background and historia eating cereal as she watches.

you groan lowly, and historia finally notices your consciousness.

“so...,” you yawn while you stretch your arms up into the air, “talk about last night?”

historia nods while she chews, “so basically, i was jealous that you were hooking up with another girl that wasn’t me.”

“but why would you be jealous...? i thought you hated me,” you rub your cheek against the pillow you’re laying your head on.

historia blushes as she looks away with a pout, “i never hated you... i just... i didn’t like the feelings i have for you.”

“oh,” you lay on your back and ignore the heat rushing to your cheeks, “what are.... the feelings..?”

“i may or may not love you,” she hides her face by holding her bowl full of cereal to her chin.

you don’t say anything for a few moments, trying to think of what you wanted to say.

“i... i love you too. but, that doesn’t just mean i forgive and forget all the horrible shit you’ve done to me. i’ll start dating you when i feel that you’ve... ‘atoned’ for your sins,” you sigh, “it’s gonna take some time but if you want this to work or even start, you’ve gotta make it up to me and understand where i’m coming from.”

she looks at you with slight excitement, “i... of course! i was really mean to you and you didn’t deserve that, no matter how much i disliked you. i promise to make it up to you.”

she’s holding her pinky finger up to you.

you smile and link your pinkies with her’s, “promise.”

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk #historia reiss #historia x reader #anime

85 notes · View notes

captainsolare · 3 years

Note

Also Sol, I'm here to request for your Event, if I may 🥰🙈 The dice is such an awesome idea 🥰♥️

May I please have a Rhya (Black Clover) fluff, roll 2 times for AU, 3 times for dialogue prompt and 1 time for trope, please? 💘🙈

I hope I got that right, sorry if it isn't right 😂😭 anyway happy writing! And feel free to ignore it if you don't feel like writing it 💓 also happy anniversary and happy birthday Sol darling 🥰♥️

A/N: Hello my lovely!! I hope you enjoy this! I apologize that it's so late :)

Rhya Fluff + Teacher AU! + My friends dared me to ask you out but you actually said yes + “You’re such a dork.”

The faculty lounge was largely empty, save for Rhya, the chemistry teacher, slumped over his desk snoring lightly. You stood in the doorway, sweaty hand clutching the strap of your bag tightly. You sighed quietly, cursing your fellow teacher friends for making you agree to this.

Making your way across the room you stopped at the sleeping man’s desk, heart pounding as you stood over him.

“What’s up Y/N?” He asked, voice gravelly from sleep.

“How did you know it was me?” You blinked, taken aback.

He sat up straighter and stretched, arms shaking as the muscles began to wake up. A finger pointed to the floor, “It was your shoes, they make a distinct sound. That’s how I knew it was you.”

“Oh.” You swallowed uncomfortably, suddenly feeling self conscious as you glanced at your shoes. Do they really make a specific noise?

“Well, did you need something? It’s unlike you to come into the faculty lounge this late.”

You tucked your hands behind your back, rocking on your heels.

“Um… well you see… You can totally say no, but I was wondering if you’d be interested in going out on a date with me?” You clasped your hands tightly together, half praying he’d say no and put you out of your misery.

Rhya stared at you for a long moment, if he was surprised he didn’t show it, instead he had the same bored expression he usually did.

You braced yourself for the impending apology.

“Sure. Tomorrow night sound good?”

You took a sharp breath, surprised by his answer, “Sure, that sounds great! I can meet you out front after work?”

He nodded, “Sounds good. See you tomorrow Y/N.”

“See you tomorrow Rhya.”

You tried not to listen to the sound of your shoes as you walked across the linoleum floor. As you paused in the doorway to risk one last glance into the room, you could have sworn you saw him smile.

Your phone landed on your bed with a thump, the ringing tinny as it rang on speakerphone.

“Hey there Y/N! What’s up? Got the hot goss?”

You rolled your eyes, “Would I be calling this late if I didn’t?”

Practically feeling Kasumi smiling on the other end of the line you relented,

“We’re going out tomorrow night.”

Kasumi gasped, “Oh my gosh! He really said yes? That’s so exciting! What are you going to wear? Where are you going? Eek! I’m so excited for you, you’ve had a crush on him for like, forever.”

You took a deep breath, Kasumi was always like this; her mind ran at about a hundred kilometers a minute, fast and incessantly making your life more interesting, sometimes, like tonight, more difficult.

“Yes, he said yes. I don’t know what I’m wearing or where we’re going. And it has not been forever! More like 2 months, if that.”

She tutted at you through the phone, “You know we all see the way you two looked at each other when he came into the lounge for the first time.”

You scrunched your nose at her even though she couldn’t see it, “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I just hope it goes well.”

Kasumi’s laugh was crackly through the speaker, grating on your already frayed nerves, “Don’t worry! It’ll be fine.” A brief pause, “Well, I’m exhausted, so I’ll catch you tomorrow ‘kay? I expect you to call me with all the juicy details afterwards.”

“Yeah, goodnight Kasumi.”

The call ended with a beep and you collapsed on your bed, her words echoing in your mind.

It’ll be fine.

You fussed over your appearance in the staff bathroom mirror. Did you look okay? Where were you going? Did Ryha say yes as a joke? Did he like you too?

The questions ran through your mind like a swarm of bees, a low hum that wouldn’t go away.

Finally, you decided that you could put it off no longer, you needed to go outside and face the man you’d asked out on a date.

He was standing by the school gate, a dress shirt and slacks with a blazer looked wonderful on him. He still had the same bored expression on his face, but it brightened slightly as you approached.

“Hey there, you ready? You look good by the way.”

Your cheeks grew hot at his words, “Yeah, I’m ready. You… look good too.”

He extended his elbow as a gesture for you to take it and you did, hooking your arm gently through the gap.

You walked down the street for a while, light from the street lamps illuminating the pools from the rain earlier in the day.

“So,” You said after a while, “Where are we going this fine evening?”

The corners of Rhya’s lips turned upward, “It’s a secret, but it’ll be great, I promise.”

Finally, you turned a corner and stopped outside a quaint looking restaurant; there wasn’t an obvious name anywhere on the establishment, but Rhya didn’t hesitate to open the door.

You walked inside and were greeted by a woman with pink hair, a flower crown placed lightly on her head.

“Hello! I have special seats reserved for you.”

“Thank you Fana.”

Rhya smiled thankfully, and you were led outside to a patio garden straight out of a fairytale. There were trellises covered in roses of all shades, bird baths and small fountains scattered around.

Fana led you down a stone path to a table in the center of the patio, lanterns hung around tossed delicate light over the space, lending to an atmosphere that felt ethereal.

There was a single tea light candle on the table, along with a single red rose in a vase.

Rhya pulled your chair out for you and you sat down, a menu soon placed in front of you.

Once Fana left you looked around, marvelling at the beautiful garden you were sitting in.

“Rhya, what is this place?”

“This is a little restaurant owned and operated by a few childhood friends of mine.”

Your mouth opened in a small ‘o’ as you looked around once more, seeing the setting in a whole new light.

The meal was enjoyable, Ryha was surprisingly good at making conversation once you got comfortable. By the time you were leaving the restaurant, you were grateful that your friends had made you go through this dare.

“Want to go on a walk before we head back to the school?” Rhya asked quietly once you were outside on the street.

You contemplated it, and decided that you weren’t ready for the magic of the night to end just yet. He gave you his arm to take once more and he led you down the city streets.

Wandering aimlessly you ended up in a square, there was a fountain in the center and a musician playing for patrons. It was a charming sight, the lights bathed the square in a soft light. Rhya cocked his head in a silent question and you nodded, making your way to the small crowd around the musician.

The musician’s assistant caught sight of you and smiled brightly, “Does the lovely couple want to dance?”

Both you and Rhya faltered, cheeks warm from being called out in front of a crowd and at the assumption that you were a couple. Rhya recovered quickly though and before you knew it he was extending a hand for you to dance with him.

He was surprisingly light on his feet, and dancing with him was easy. With several cheers from the crowd you danced to a few songs, hearts thrumming from the close contact.

Out of breath from dancing, you laughed and chatted on your way back to the school, hands barely brushing as you walked.

The parking lot was empty save for your cars. Your keys were in your hands but you were both still, not wanting to leave just yet.

Rhya caught your lingering gaze and you mustered up the courage to speak.

“Hey Rhya, would you maybe want to go out again?” You asked, hoping your voice didn’t betray just how hopeful you were.

“Yeah, I’d like that. I think we have a lot of chemistry.”

You smiled, then it dawned on you, “Rhya did you just--- did you just make a dad joke?”

He shrugged, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, “Maybe I did.”

You rolled your eyes, “Gosh, you’re such a dork.”

Rhya cocked his head, a mischievous glint in his eye, “Yeah, but I could be your dork.”

Giggling, you gave him a swift kiss on the cheek, “Yeah yeah, see you tomorrow. Text me when you get home safe.”

“You too Y/N.”

As you drove away, Rhya stared after your car, fingertips lingering on the spot you had kissed.

“Wow.” Was all he could manage to whisper.

#rhya x reader #rhya fluff #rhya black clover #black clover x reader #gender neutral reader #planet fate #aurora borealis

53 notes · View notes

insomnihan · 3 years

Text

han’s Entire Thoughts & Feelings on Dreamcatcher’s “BEcause”

youtube

WE ARE F UCKING UNDER ATTAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

there are no read mores here so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

ALRIGHT SO-

THE SONG WHERE DO I START WELL- I SAW A COMMENT SOMEWHERE THAT WAS LIKE ‘THIS HAS GOODNIGHT CREEPINESS WITH RED SUN ESSENCE’ WHOEVER THAT WAS YOUR BRAIN IS GINORMOUS™ AND WRINKLY- IF YOU LISTEN TO IT THE SLIGHT SUMMER VIBE IS TOTALLY THERE YET THE PIANO AND THE HARP (MAYBE I DUNNO BUT WHAT I DOONO IS THAT IT SLAPS) THE PRE CHORUS BUILD UP FAST AS HELL THE DRUMS ARE FAST AS S HIT THE CLOCK IS SO CREEPY THE GUITAR IS JUST ASDFFJGHLHKL;;’ THE DOUBLE TIME DURING DAMIS RAP THAT WAS LITERALLY™ AN ATTEMPT TO TAKE MY LIFE (they were this 👌 close istg) AND THEN THE BRDIGE…………………… SOMEONE TAKE THE WHEEL-

AND THEN THEIR VOICES POWERFUL AS ALWAYS AND THAT F UCKING DISTORTION S HIT DURING ‘FOREVER LOVE AND FOREVER MINE’ IS ACTUAL DR*GS- i dunno what it is but the instrumental being like that and then (to me anyway) theres such a sweet undertone (???) in how they sing and then knowing the lyrics likE I KNOW THEYRE OBSESSED- B O I DO I MISS A FAST DAMI RAP P L E A S E I FEEL LIKE SHES THREATENING ME I LOVE THAT PSYCHO NOISE B ICYJ- THAT BRIDGE IS F UCKING CRAZY SIYEONS AND HANDONGS AND YOOHYEONS GENTLE VOICES AND THEN S U A!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOUREALLYGOTTACOMEOUTOFTHELEFTGODDAMNFIELDWITHTHATICANTSTANDYOUHOWDAREYOUJUSTAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

hello hello for the dance section i will be using THE mcountdown performance yEAH THE ONE POSTED BEFORE THE ACTUAL MV/ALBUM DROP- FIRST OF ALL THE INTRO sorry i have to talk about this theyre so creepy and doll like and jiu is so menacing lIKE WHAT THE F UCK IS THAT (someone answer me what iN THE F CUK did she feed yoohyeon)- NOW ANYWAY I HAVE THINGS TO SAY ABOUT THE ACTUAL DANCE-

OFF THE BAT THE MIRROR INTRODUCTION IS *CHEFS KISS* and then gahyeon choking jiu?????????? LORE????????? IN CHOREOGRAPHY?????????

LISTEN. L I S T E N. ALL OF THEM LIFTING YOOHYEON AT 1:29 LIKE THATS INSANE AND SO FITTING FOR THIS SONG AND VIBE plus yknow………………… handong doing a lot of the lifting………… 👉👈

this specific video doesnt show it during suas verse (which is like Rude™ but fine they show it elsewhere obv) but when shes singing and the rest of them are dropping down slowly………………… yeah-

THE CHORUS EVERY👏SINGLE👏F UCKING👏TIME👏 LIKE THE POSE THEY DO FOR ‘BE’?????????????? THE POWER AND THE GENIUS™ OF IT??????????????????????

DAMI UNHAND ME UNHOLY DEMON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

the bridge…………… the rocking from side to side…………… whatever the f uck handong and yoohyeon are doing…………… it was almost like sua was controlling everyone right like deadass im scared-

THE DANCE BREAK PLS LET ME BREATHE

the ending with everyone bowing but gahyeon…………

BICTH……………… BICHY- THE VISUALS JUST KEEP LEVELING THE F UCK UP THATS LIT RALLY INSANE I LOVE THAT FOR THEM- the moment that mystery code was revealed and we were getting demented creepy carnival i waS V I B R A T I N G™ WITH EXCITEMENT the creepy scenery of the dark hotel lobby and the rundown carnival with the merry go round and teacups AND WITH A CULT and the hallway with the mirrors and the lights (like the use of SO much red and green……… the symbolism………) JUST EVERYTHING IS SO F UCKING ABANDONED AND S HIT- THE LITERAL MIRRORING AND DIMENSION S HIT WHAT THE F UCK!!!!!!!!!!!! THAT CREEPY ASS ROOM WHERE THEY KIDNAPPED GAHYEON IN AND SIYEON WAS ACTING ALL TWITCHY OR WHATEVER WHAT WAS THAT-

TIME TO SHOW WHICH SCENES I LIKED

youtube

THE WHOLE GODDAMN THI-

(jk ☺️)

OFF THE BAT GAHYEON MAIN CHARACTER I KNOW THATS RIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

…………………… i just wanted to put this here-

i just wanted to put this here too-

HOW DID YOU EVEN GET HERE

id like to think that the real handong is one getting dragged away and the one standing is the doppelganger (for Plot™ purposes)

W H A T T H E F U C K

I DUNNO WHAT TO SAY OTHER THAN IM SCARED-

G OD WHAT IS HAPPENING HERE THIS PART WAS SO WEIRD WHAT DOES THIS MEAN WHAT DOES IT MEAN

HELLO??????????????????

yeah sure let me take this apple from this broken mirror where another me lies within the walls of this creepy hotel anD EAT IT

W E L P-

………………………………… F-

T H E M

I DUNNO HOW IM BREATHING RN-

JIU

whaT IN THE F UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THIS SCENE IN THIS SCREENSHOT IS ALREADY A LOT the way she looks seemingly unassuming and harmless in that reception desk that brown and white outfit (is her hair in like………… pigtails???) and then the smile to the instant glare you jusT KNOW youre gonna d*e in that place- MAAAAN BANGS OR NO BANGS SHES STUNNING EITHER WAY AND THATS SO RUDE………… the white dress and those red ACTUAL TALONS will be the d*ath of me

SUA

if i counted correctly she had three (3) different outfits??? outside of the dance ones??? white and red then black and purple then that green and black one??? i think of all of those i really like the red and the green one theres SOMETHING ABOUT THEM i think the green one with the big puffy sleeves more NOT BC ITS MY FAVORITE COLOR I SWEAR the green looks silky and then she also has the thing on the side of her face the pearls in her hair- AND THEN THAT RED ONE with the white sleeves and the frilly collar dude whAT THE F UCK LIKE I KNOW WE SAW IT A LOT BUT I WANNA SEE MORE THO……………

SIYEON

OKAYOKAYOKAY LOOK- THIS OUTFIT IN THIS SCREENSHOT I FEEL LIKE I SHOULDNT LIKE IT YET I DO????????????? two completely different looking patterns that animal print and the strips and then that big ass belt (???) around her waist like this shouldnt be like a GOOD look i dont think……… truly only She™ could make this look work 😔😔😔 i got A LOT A LOT to say about the red and orange plaid crop top and skirt with the different colored clips in her head but the only thought going through my Dumb of Ass Stupid Brain™ iS HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-

HANDONG

HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MY NATURAL BLONDE BELOVED this white dress and the BLACK BOOTS AND THE CHOKER SHE BETTER S TOP- AND DO NOT I REPEAT D O N O T!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SPEAK TO ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ON THAT SHORT WHITE DRESS WITH THE WHITE BOOTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHOEVER STYLED HER YOU DONT CARE ABOUT ME AND THE OTHER HANDONGISTS YET I ALSO LOVE YOU SO MUCH the one with the pink dress dont talk to me dont approach me donT EVEN F UCKING LOOK AT ME IM GOING THROUGH A LOT RN

YOOHYEON

im really Dumb of Ass™ i thought that one pink and (maybe???) super light blue dress had a clock on it- BUT MOVING ON FROM THAT the space buns and whatever those accessories those are and the pink makeup this is sO- then the white dance outfit with those (mesh??? lace??? i just know that its see through-) sleeves and those big ass earrings THAT LOOK AT 2:24 the boots (yeah i gotta mention that first since i just ALWAYS have to mention them) the white blazer all those pearl long ass necklaces and whatever that is on the side of her face why do her visuals HURT SO BAD-

DAMI

bicth…………………………………… B I C T H- WHAT HAS THIS WOMAN BEEN DOING??????!!?!?!?!?!!?!?!?!?!??!??!?!?! THIS OUTFIT IS SUCH AN ATTACK I DONT EVEN KNOW WHAT THAT IS ON HER FACE THIS WHOLE LOOK IS SOMETHING ELSE™ her tattoo 🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵 that bottom part of her hair is kinda clapped tho honestly- the pig tails?????? braids?????? in the dancing part on the black and white tiles IM DOWN YALL IM DOWN SO BAD AND ITS F UCKING RUDE™ THAT WE DONT SEE S HIT OF THAT DRESS AT THE END-

GAHYEON

IM GONNA SAY IT AGAIN LEE👏GAHYEON👏MAIN👏CHARACTER👏I👏KNOW👏THATS👏RIGHT👏👏👏👏👏👏👏!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THIS RED HAIR IS A BLESSING (especially in that high ponytail i-) SHE IS ATTACKING ME BUT YKNOW WHAT THATS OKAY- im SURE theres a plot significance to her two different dresses the mostly black and the mostly white but my brain can only register WOMAN PRETTY that white one in particular…………… the choker with her hair up and those boots…………… i saw it clear as day and im d wording over it-

BONUS TIME: B-SIDE TRACKS (thoughts and parts i liked)

Intro

i usually expect the intro to be like SUPER HYPE AND INTENSE yknow which it kinda is! however it is consistent that it fits very well and captures the overall vibe of the entire album the calm beginning with the bell like were walking into an establishment and at the halfway point it picks up its intriguing and the ‘i like you’ adds a subtle eeriness that adds just enough to make one wanna continue listening its v good 👌

Airplane

LISTEN……………… LISTEN- this is the VERY LAST genre i expected out of this group YET im not even a little bit shocked that they did this like this cutesy izone-esque summer bop of a song is a DREAMCATCHER™ song……………… YALL- THE AMOUNT OF SEROTONIN THAT ‘AIRPLANE LALALALALALA~~~~~~~’ BRINGS IS SOMETHING SO PERSONAL THIS SECOND GENERATION SUMMERY ASS INSTRUMENTAL WHAT IN THE F UCK- I FEEL LIKE IM RUNNING ON THE BEACH I FEEL THE COLD WIND OF THE WATER BUT THE HEAT OF THE SUN AGAINST MY SKIN AND IM PLAYING WITH A DAMN BEACH BALL WITH A COCONUT DRINK (I F UCKING H*TE LEAVING MY HOUSE) JIU AND DAMI SOUND SO F UCKING PHENOMENAL

Whistle

im pretty firm on believing these b sides represent different times of a summer day and this is the late evening or twilight like not nighttime but CLOSE- i thought i wasnt gonna like the whistling part but that only makes it catchieR THIS SONG IS MAKING ME YEARN AND TRYING TO RECALL LOVELY MEMORIES I DONT EVEN HAVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! then again……………… theres always usually a song on their albums that make me unlock and feel hidden emotions………… THIS SONG GOT ME MISSING A PERSON THAT ISNT REAL this is such a mellow yet so powerful in the way they sing and express each syllable- they all did so good on this song but i gotta mention dami again for her part like oH mY gOoOoOooOoOOOooOD

Alldaylong

JIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! the way this song was inspired by a hug jiu got from yoohyeon…………… THIS IS NOT A JOKE she said ‘i wanna try city pop’ anD SHE DONE DID IT- i have NO IDEA how this song managed to hold so much joy and light happiness in every word and instrument used in this but im :ccccccc i literally wanna hug someone after listening to this 😔😔😔 this also makes me yearn for something but at least this one isnt unrealistic or unobtainable i dont think! there are some songs out there that make me cry from its lyrics and its sound but THIS ONE the lyrics and just how happy this song is bro reading the lyrics im about to cry for like the fifth time- they who im love so much… :ccccccc doesnt it make you just wanna hug someone and tell them you love them????????? that you appreciate them??????????

해바라기의 마음 (A Heart of Sunflower)

i knew FOR A FACT FOR👏A👏FACT👏 that they were gonna have a ballad for this album bc road to utopia didnt have one i will admit i was one of the 🤡 that thought jiu would be credited on this song 😬😬😬 ANYWAY- AGAIN WITH THE DAMN YEARNING FOR SOMETHING BUT THIS TIME IM F UCKING SAD AS S HIT why must this song be so powerful to make me emotional before i even got to read the lyrics to fully grasp it……………………… now im truly yearning in the Sad™ way and waiting for some imaginary person who i dont even know will even come back…………………… those damn adlibs are pretty as hell it was sua (and i have to mention dami again okay shes really killing it on this she woNT LET ME LIVE-) who got me feeling this the most like yeah…………………… i am a fool…………… im a fool for loving and missing someone who just disappeared from my lifE G O D D A M N IT-

LIKE this is COMPLETELY surprising album BUT IN THE BEST WAY POSSIBLE as its described it really is a ‘special’ album as while the title track still has their music style and sound theres still an element of summer (a very Terrifying™ summer BUT a ✨Summer✨ album nonetheless) like the b sides are SO different and COMPLETELY caught me off guard when i listened to the highlight medley YET this group of seven amazing and talented women pulled it off!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! its extremely obvious at this point that their steady and organic growth has grown VERY HIGH this time and (although im still very confused by how everything was released and announced BUT i digress) this different kind of method in performing the song the day before seemed to work?????????? I DUNNO WHAT TO SAY ANYMORE this section could literally be summed to just I LOVE DREAMCATCHER SO MUCH 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

IN CONCLUSION: LISTEN TO THIS ALBUM BECAUSE ITS BOMB AS F UCK

AND AS ALWAYS

#these are becoming harder to do i dunno why i cant focus 😔#i wanted to switch handongs and yoohyeons pictures as a joke but i didnt want people to think i was stupid and fake 🤡#dreamcatcher #han.txt #han's afterthoughts

18 notes · View notes

oh-for-fic-sake · 4 years

Text

The Home Coming

Masterlist

When Henry returns to a depressed pregnant wife its his mission to get his girls back to normal, even if it means a showdown with a new mother at the Paige’s preschool.

Warnings: Swearing, Fluff, Angst, Anxiety and Self esteem issues

A/N: so here is another House to home chapter! wanted this to be a sweet romantic chapter to a point not entierly sure about it but its finished so I hope you all enjoy

Taglist: @two-unbeatable-beaters @thatgirly81 @angelofthorr @iloveyouyen @sofiebstar @thefangirlsblog

Henry sighed as the phone rang, he was trying to videocall you but you hadn't answered. He was going to surprise you, filming had over run and he'd been held back an extra two weeks but was currently by the side of your house hiding around the drive he was going to call you and do the whole 'look outside' thing but was loosing hope fast that you would answer. Then suddenly he was greeted with Paiges face holding the phone awkwardly as all children seemed to do.

"Hey poppet! What are you doing with Mummys phone?" She smiled and squealed at him.

"DADDYYY! HI DADDY!" He chuckled watching the way she moved clumsily through the house catching glimpses of kal as he followed her as she went up the stairs, his heart jumped as she moved fast and unsteady tipping this way and that.

"Hey! hey no running! You'll fall! That's it baby, good girl now what have you been doing today then little lady?" She grinned angling the phone to her face where he got a clear view up her nose.

"I went- I went to school! And then we did painting and did our letters and numbers and I got another star on my chart! Then I've been cheering up Mummy...When are you gonna come home Daddy? Shes sad and I think you can make her better..." Henry frowned you were all smiles when he phoned and face timed whats changed?.

"Paige what? Shes sad? Why baby? whats-how do you know Mummy is sad?" She hummed stopping finally holding the phone correctly he could tell she had just sat on the top step of the staircase as kal moved sitting beside her nudging her for a hug. She slung her little arm around his back making him pant happily.

"Well she just is....She stays in her pajamas most of the time and she is sad she cries sometimes..She doesn't think I hear her but I do...And she misses you, she cries in the bathroom and gets angry cos she can't have a bath" Henry frowned that the way Paige had said it, almost like its been happening for a while. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Its since the mean lady" Henry blinked confused.

"What lady? What happened to mummy baby?" Paige looked left and right then leaned into the phone

"The-theres a new girl at play school...Shes mean and she kicks and scratches people she keeps getting sent home cos shes bad! and her Mummy is the same...She-she called me and Mummy liars! And she said your not my real Daddy! And Mummy was bad for telling me you was!...Y-you are my real Daddy aren't you?" Henry was shocked to say the least! Just what the fuck has been going on he has never ever heard his little nugget ask something so fucking ridiculous!

"Of course I'm your real Daddy poppet! And don't you let anyone ever tell you otherwise little lady! What else has this nasty lady said?" Henry had to hold back as there was many swear words trying to creep into his outburst and he didn't need Paige to start repeating them.

"Well....Then she was really mean to Mummy calling her names! For a few while ,she said Mummy was fat and lazy and that if you were my Daddy you wont love her anymore when you come home... She was really mean and made Mummy sad....I told Mummy not to listen but she smiles and says she is okay...But she isn't...Patty is still nasty she said her Mummy said that you wasn't my Daddy cos Mummy doesn't have her ring on... " Henry took a moment your not wearing your ring? "Mummy doesn't wear her ring?" Paige hummed and tilted her head

"It's on a necklace..She was sad her fingers don't fit!" Ah, that makes sense your hands and feet swelt whilst you was pregnant with Paige...

Still Henry was shocked you would keep this from him, he could hardly believe what he was hearing. Why hadn't you said anything? Why was you letting this get to you? You were fucking amazing sexy and just drop dead gorgeous! And you wasn't fat you were pregnant ... which Henry found incredibly attractive anyway, he loved when you was pregnant, glowing carrying a piece of him inside you. It did things to him, he just loved how when people saw you they saw him to, they saw what he had done. Sure people knew what you'd done when they saw Paige but when you were pregnant it was...a piece of him was still there inside you growing.

He felt honoured that you'd allow him to do that, allowed him to get you pregnant, to undergo such a drastic bodily change. Sure women gain a little weight but he didn't care fuck if it bothered you once he gets the go ahead after the birth he will help you loose weight with giving you regular cardio bedroom style....Even if you didn't want to loose it you'd be undergoing some pretty strenuous cardio with him any way.

"Paige, thank you for telling me your a very good girl and I'm proud of you for helping her feel better but could you put your Mother on the phone please?" She looked up and sighed shaking her head.

"No Daddy, shes sleeping she tries not to but she can't help it! We was watching Paddington and she fell asleep....I was gon' get her fuzzy blankie" he watched as Paige got up moving but he called out to her sighing."No no your not carrying that down the stairs...Poppet come open the front door but be quiet don't wake your mother" she frowned but smiled moving down the steps slower than she had scaled them. Henry circled back to the front of the house waiting by the front door.

"Fuuckdge!-Hold the banisTER...Jesus...Your going to be the death of me child...God I hate watching you on the stairs nugget" she grinned as she made it to the last step then skipped to the door she heard a small sound from Henry ending the call and opened the door.

She jumped up at him happily giving him kisses as the tears started. He managed to slip into the house relatively quietly muffling Paige's sobs in his shoulder as he tucked one arm under her bottom a she moved reaching up to cuddle into his neck. He moved slowly sliding his suit case by the front door as he closed it, he rocked Paige shushing her trying to sooth her. His other hand was petting and excited Kal who was jumping up at him for his own cuddle.

"I know princess I know....Shh I've missed you to poppet, but I'm home now...That’s it.... Oh baby don't cry see? look daddy's back nugget and I've got a long time home now...Shh shhh good girl...You've been so good looking after Mummy and the baby for me huh?" She nodded whining into him still crying her heart out. He sighed kissing her head.

Henry moved through the house seeing you crashed out on the sofa, he could see from here you wasn't yourself it was...Uou were his other half, his soulmate and even asleep he could just tell. He sighed looking down and kissed Paige's hair. He would leave you to sleep. Knowing just how tired you got around this time of the pregnancy, the months finally catching up with you and it was almost like your body tried to hibernate readying itself for the big day.

He moved around the sofa sitting in his armchair with Paige curled up on his chest. She sniffled a little fingers twisting into his blazer. He rocked slowly calming his little girl just watching you on the sofa wincing every now and then as you shifted. Our back must be playing up....And your breasts to by the way you held them protectively cupping the now huge mounds in your hands trying to ease their tenderness even in slumber. He sighed and slowly began to plan the night, he had to get you alone to talk, if what Paige said was true then you would be down and most likely have a panic attack or break down.

He knew the final term of pregnancy takes its toll on you physically and emotionally and with this woman's cruel jabs you were probably down with low self esteem so he had to do something. Talk you through whatever silly notions had been put in your head and then look after you...He would dote on you and Paige. A smile graced his face when he put together a plan.

"Hey poppet...Do you want to help Daddy with something?" She looked up head still on his chest, he moved wiping away stubborn tears.

"Wiv what Daddy?" He smiled at her then cast you a look, you really looked tired, not that he was surprised you were over eight months pregnant and still had to run around after Paige and kal alone. He cursed himself he would have given anything to be here for you but he had to work, provide for his growing family. He knew you didn't have anything against him working and you would never be angry over the long months apart. In that respect he was blessed not once had you ever used his absence against him even in the most bitter of disagreements, they were rare but they happened...Usually you were right and it ended up with him making it up to you in some overly cliché romantic way where you'd forgive him just to end the cheese fest.

"Well poppet I think I should use tonight to pamper my ladies...Do you know where Mummy’s nail varnish is?" Paige perked up giving one final sniffle and sat up

."Mummy’s nail varnish?... Can I have painted nails to?" Henry nodded at her tucking some loose curls behind her ears.

"Yes baby you can have painted toes to if you like!....I think Daddy has to make it up to his two special girls for being late. So I'm going to pamper the two of you....I will run Mummy a bubble bath and help her wash then I will paint your and Mummy’s toes and make some hot chocolate and we can make doggy pile in the den and watch a film...Does that sound good?" She smiled brightly

"And foot rubs Daddy?" He sighed and nodded

"Absolutely poppet! Now come on first things first lets look for some treats!" She smiled as he walked with her to the kitchen...he had an idea of what to do, a favorite of yours that he doesn't think you've had in years...Apple pie toasty and it was something Paige could help with...If you have the apples which you probably did for Paige's snacks.

"Aha! Here we go!" He sat Paige on the counter top and pulled a bag of apples from the fridge drawer where they kept longer he pulled out a medium pan and set it bedside Paige.

"Could you put a little bit a water in that baby girl?" She looked a little confused as Henry moved around the kitchen pulling out a chopping board apple corer and knife.

"Daddy? Mummy says you shouldn't cook....’member the soup...Shouldn't we go wake her and...Ask?" Henry rolled his eyes still moving about tipping out the small bag of apples

"Well baby the soup was...A one off”

"Daddy tomato soup's meant to be red...not brown"

"Yes...I know tha-”

"Did you though?" Henry eyed his child...Wow she really got sassy he raised a brow at her and a staring contest ensued... Henry lost his daughter was a force to be reckoned with at nearly four!! Fuck it was beginning to frighten him.

"As I was saying Missy-we are allowed to make these...Mummy’s favorite hot snack I used to make these for her all the time when we just started dating...And now I'm going to teach you pumpkin we are making special apple pie pockets! Now quickly I need some water in there just a little bit." Paige hummed and shrugged crawling the few inches swinging her legs into the deep butler sink and placed the pot under the tap filling about and inch or so.

"That enough daddy?" Henry moved peeking over and smiled.

"That’s perfect poppet here no-No daddy will move it you will spill baby!" He quickly moved the pot by the chopping board and came back guiding Paige as she crawled over and plopped herself down between the pot and chopping board.

"Now baby girl can you put the sliced apple in the pot once daddy has done it?" She nodded enthusiastically watching as Henry made quick work of the apples

"Daddy whats that thing?" She asked she said pointing to the apple corer as she collected the apple slices and popped them in the water.

"This? Well here you want a go?...Hold it with daddy that’s it... see we put it over the stem of the apple and push really hard!...That’s it push push push there we go! Well done!" She smiled as she pulled back and the center of the apple came with it.

"And that’s how we get the core out now wait right there and daddy will quickly chop these up and we can start cooking!" She smiled kicking her feet as Henry made quick work of the apples Paige dutifully collected them she dropped a few slices here and there but Kal was quick to catch them mid fall making Paige giggle loudly and 'drop' a few more to Kal who was tap dancing for more.

"Hey poppet no more for Kal or you wont have any filling in yours, now we add sugar and Cinnamon" she smiled as Henry held out a table spook letting her add the dry ingredients before getting her down.

"Right now poppet go get Mummy’s nail varnishes...and the bottle of baby lotion...The pink bottle by the sink okay? can you do that for daddy?" she nodded and ran off making him call out for her to slow down. he moved the pot to the hob turning it on a low heat before moving to prepare the living room.

It took little sneaking but Henry smiled, he had gone all across the house with Paige's help collecting your favorite blankets and pillows piling them in the den where you had a larger tv with surround sound and got a film ready Tangled was decided for tonight....It was one of Paige's but he knew you liked it to and besides it was more about having one huge family cuddle then watching the film.

Finally Henry left the den walking to the back of the sofa to look at you still asleep good you looked like you needed it, he heard Paige’s foot steps quickly running out of the kitchen slapping the tiled floor

"Daddy? Daddy the apples!" oh fuck he quickly turned running to the kitchen collecting Paige by one arm hoisting her to his hip as he did they were just about to overflow he quickly slid it off the heat they must be ready by now.

"whoa! thank you poppet that could have been our snacks gone!" she peeked over the pot from on Henry's hip

"What do we do now Daddy?" he smiled and kissed her head

"To the apples or for the night?...Well the apples now have to cool so i am going to go draw a bubble bath and give you a bath and get your hair done then give mummy a bath to! then after we are going to sit and watch a flim while Daddy paints your nails and makes the toasties!" Paige smiled giggling looking forward to the night.

It didn't take long to draw the bath and wash Paige, she loved when Henry washed her hair nearly falling asleep as he spent al long as he could massaging her scalp, he actually had a hell of a job supporting her by the back of the neck as she lolled back and forth slipping around in the large tub. But he love this it was something he enjoyed since first bringing her home before long Paige was dry and wrapped up in her new fluffy onesie half asleep and playing in her room. Henry had cut up some fruit snacks and a babybell leaving Kal and Paige in her room to play with the promise of collecting her for movie night! Finally it came to you he took a moment to admire you then crouched next to you, he had covered you with a throw earlier. And thats how you woke.

You blinked bleary eyed feeling something was off and frowned. Then gasped quickly sitting up readying to hit and kick out at the man in front of you. Just as you did you blinked and realized it was your husband before you.

"Henry?! You-when did you? Oh god how long have I been asleep!?" You quickly moved to get up looking around frantically for Paige. You winced holding your back. Fuck it hurt, not even just and ache it was a throbbing pull screaming with every movement.

Henry stood and moved his arms around you holding you still rubbing his heavy palms across your back soothing the ache. He moved closer pressing his face into your neck kissing you lightly then moved to whisper in your ear then tugged you close rocking slowly with you still massaging your tense back. He frowned he could feel the knots and hard muscles tensing and straining below his palms. A wave of guilt passed over him ,he should have been here! to help ease your pain! It was him who insisted on a second child and he felt as though he just abandoned you during the long months of uncomfortable pregnancy just to show up at the end and 'claim his prize' like a dead beat dad. Henry took a deep breath trying to push aside his guilt tonight was for you and Paige.

"Paige is fine, she's had her bath and is upstairs playing in her room with kal ready for bed, and you my absolute stunner of a wife have your own bath waiting~" you blinked as he pulled away and scooped you up with ease, he noticed to tense and struggle.

"No Henry put me down! I’m too big!" The words were out before you could stop them he stood still, hands gripping you tighter not willing to let you go.

"Babe even if you was pregnant with triplets, quintuplets! You my love will never ever be to big for a carry! Now come on, we are going to have a nice long chat about these new found thoughts whilst your in the bath!" You whined at the tone he sounded serious his deep voice almost scary. You cringed still trying to ease your weight off of him but he made quick work of scaling the stairs.

Once in the bathroom you were quickly deposited on the counter and Henry moved shutting the door then turned on you quickly drawing you into a deep needy kiss his tongue forcing his taste on your tongue as his hands roamed your swollen stomach caressing your unborn child then moved higher dragging your tshirt up over your stomach sighing when his hot palm met the skin of your stomach and he moved trailing kisses down the side of your neck leaving licks and nips along the way.

"H-Henry!...Hen-No stop we-you don't have to!". You pulled away gasping and whining trying to fight back the tears in your eyes so he wouldn't see just how far your self esteem had plummeted. He pulled back but you wouldn't meet his eyes and tried to shimmy off the counter, trying to use your huge stomach to push him back to slide own to your feet. He was having none of it you pressed forward and so did he meeting you in the middle, his strength jolted your knees apart and he stood between them and then closed them around his hips. You took a breath cringing knowing he must feel the extra padding on your soft thighs.

You twitched trying to pull back, to widen your legs so he wouldn't feel how fat you'd got but his huge hands held the outside of your legs keeping them clamped around him.

"I know I don't have to...But I want to! My fucking perfect woman! You are gorgeous how could I not want you?!" You squinted shaking your head at him..How? How could he? This was just that he felt obligated to kiss you and caress you in your state! He sighed and moved a hand to cup your chin.

"Love...Whatever she said is wrong...Yes I know...I face timed you and Paige answered you were asleep...I was hiding down the side of the house had a whole cheesy romeo and Juliet ensemble planned ...To beg for my queens forgiveness for being so late home...She told me everything." You sighed shaking your head that little girl really was to smart for her own good!

"H-henry you can't-I'm fat look at me?! I-I'm fat and hairy and just UGH! And I've got a shit load of new stretch marks and I...I've gained a lot of extra weight and my boobs are all veiny and ugly please stop lying to me- I know what your looking at! I see this fucking thing in the mirror each day!" Henry tugged your tshirt completely off grabbing our hips and dragged you forward forcing his erection to grind against you and dragged his teeth across your neck, you jumped as he growled low into the flesh trapped in his jaws latching his hot mouth onto the throbbing vein below before sucking harshly, locking his teeth into the sensitive flesh. You whined trying to pull away he moved closer determined to devoure you, wanting to leave his mark across your skin he parted with soothing licks before groaning pleased with the dark mark forming on the sweet skin.

"GOOD! then you know how gorgeous and sexy and soft and glowing and scrumptious you look! My god woman your fucking perfection! A goddess who somehow I managed to trick into marrying me....Fuck your pregnant and healthy and sexy and mine! Mine!. My lover, best friend, soulmate ,better half .Mother to my children and most of all my incredibly beautiful wife! God if only you knew how fucking stunning you was! I'm trying so hard not to fuck you right now! if I didn't think it would hurt our son I'd already be in your fucking tight little cunt!" You flushed at his words each chipping away at the cold lead ball in your chest.

"Just what happened anyway? what has this fucking bitch said?" you gasped it was rare for Henry to swear well since Paige anyway.

"Henry it doesn't-" you shook your head trying to turn away from him but he was faster cupping. Both sides of your face drawing your gaze back to him he leaned in kissing you tenderly before pulling back resting his forehead to yours. His eyes ablaze, a swirling mix of anger ,love, desire but mostly worry. He was worried for you anxious and rearing to go ready to fight away all your fears and doubts.

"Don't give me that shit woman! your sitting here shying away from me! the last time you did that was on our first night together! what ever happened has got to you, got to Paige and I'm not going to fucking stand here and let it eat away at you! Now tell me what happened...I can't fix it if I don't know love" you wavered he was right but ...Was retelling what happened really going to help? or would he just get angry? You hated to admit it but you found this pregnancy hard, things were different and you'd put on a few more pounds then you had with Paige and it was noticeable. you took a deep breath will he think your stupid? over reacting? you sighed recounting just this had all started.

You were self conscious and had managed to ignore it until...Yes until the woman at the nursery made a few comments a new woman-Abbey just enrolled her gremlin....and it was a gremlin! a nasty little girl Patty the same age as Paige who has already made her self the terror of the group being sent home three times in her first week for being mean and fighting the typical scratching biting toddler but more she was nearly four years old and already a bully but it wasn't really her fault she was just spoilt. Lets just say if Paige ever spoke to you the way this child spoke to her mother she'd be on the naughty step with a sore ass. But this woman was all smiles at first not really your cup of tea but you played nice being polite and friendly, you was an adult...Then she found out who you was. Paige had come around to the idea that her dad was superman after seeing him on some billboards and the tv adverts and suddenly just like that she switched sides and was team superman much to Henry's joy!

But it had caused a problem at the preschool. It was show and tell and Paige had went in wearing her supergirl tshirt and took a magazine with a double page spread on Henry's new film and told everyone that her daddy was superman, all of the children who had seen Henry at the nursery had gotten excited. The new girl had upset her calling her a liar and tore the book shouting the words 'He isn't really your daddy!'. That had really stuck with Paige and she had come out bawling her eyes out asking who her daddy was. You were fucking livid when her teacher came over and explained. Enter the little gremlins mother slinking up with a smirk.

"I'm sorry about Patty but she has a thing about liars she can't help herself" you blinked not believing what this bitch just said. You laughed and her face dropped.

"Excuse me?...My daughter isn't lying... That’s her father" she laughed condescending smoothing her brats pigtails.

"Yes I'm sure you've told her that! We single mothers have to tell them something about their daddies who skipped out on them, but superman is to far don't you think? Shes made a fool of herself in front of the class and will be teased for lying" you looked to Micah’s mother Fran who you were now close with and gaped. Fran shrugged

"I'm not a single mother" the woman snorted

"Well there’s no ring~"

"I’m pregnant it doesn't fit at the moment but I'm wearing it here" she had jeered at you as you pointed to the ring dangling from your necklace.

"Sorry if I don’t buy that...There’s nothing to be ashamed of I’m a single mother to but really lying to your own daughter very bad parenting don't you think?" You could have floored this cunt! You were seriously contemplating it. Fran stepped in to save the day...well save the woman from bitch slap galore!

"She's not a single mother and that is her husband...And I think as a new comer you should calm yourself down!a you and your daughter have been nothing but rude and out of line!" the woman scoffed at her then looked around.

"Excuse me! We have been nothing but fucking pleasant to you stuck up lot of ass wipes! My baby is a strong willed child and will grow up to be a strong minded self made women! and I apologize if I don't believe that a man like that would look twice at this fatty seriously pregnancy isn't a reason to let yourself go! Honestly why would anyone bother with her and take on someone else's kid...She really has you fooled?" Fran gasped

"Not fooled! We know because he is always here picking up Paige... and she isn't fat shes pregnant with his second! Maybe you should go and do some fucking homework before coming here and running your mouth! And teach your brat some manners whilst your at it!"

And that was all it took, the nasty woman had gone online and found photos and interviews, mainly one recent Ellen DeGeneres show that Paige gate crashed and from then on the woman had a grudge against you. Apparently her husband left her and signed away his parental rights away leaving her a bitter single mother and she had tried making friends with you because you never showed up with a man and had no ring leaving her to think you were a man hating single pringle yourself!. Not fucking likely! She became nasty and over the last two months her snide comments had chipped away at you. You knew it was some stupid playground bullshit, just a woman who never grew out of secondary school drama! But it had got to you.

Henry brought you out of your thoughts, you'd played the scenario over and over sometimes thinking of ways you could have changed the outcome, other times you were thinking of snippy comebacks and insults. Everything was to late though.

"Please love?...I know it has something to do with the new little girl at preschool, Paige has already asked me if I’m her real Father or not...So know what ever has happened was big" you looked at him shocked would he think you said something? put that in her head you panicked grabbing his hands praying he would listen before popping off at you.

"H-Henry I swear I didn't say anything! she- Abbey and her daughter have just had it in for us! Paige she took in a magazine- a superman vs batman ad....She was showing you off to her class she was so happy so so excited to let everyone know that you were superman!" Henry nodded now knowing that he was getting the full story.

"Yes I remember you saying she was doing that- but what happened? how did that turn into all this?" you swallowed recounting the first incident.

"Patty-The new girl is a bully-”

"Yes Paige said she kicks and scratches...Being sent home to?"

"Yeah shes a nasty little girl...Well Patty has never seen you before at nursery so..She called Paige a liar and got into two and eight with her...She said you wasn't her real Daddy...Then after school Miss Bou had to have a word with Abbey about Patty's behavior...Abbey took it wrong and accused me of lying to Paige about her Father and called me a bunch of names, Fran stepped in and snapped at her...Apparently cos I didn't have my ring on my finger Abbey though I was a single mother like her and got angry when-"

"When it turns out your not and are married to me?" you nodded cringing as you replayed the first incident in your head.

"Yeah...She continued telling Patty that Paige doesn't have a daddy and obviously kids talk..Paige got so upset I did sit her down and talk with her but it was...She needed to hear it from you I think" Henry nodded lips in a firm line

"Well she has, I will sit her down and have a more in depth talk......I'm fucking livid though...Not at you and don't you think that for a second, I'm angry that Paige is already dealing with this shit! and that you had to deal with it alone...I should have been here for you-"

"NO! no don't do that Henry it wouldn't have made a blind bit of difference...This? I would have brushed it off if it hadn't been the pregnancy hormones...But I'm fine your fine we are all okay-" Henry looked down and pressed his hands to your stomach.

"Shh...I know...I know love I just wish you had told me! But you didn't want to worry me...I can understand that but I’m home now and tomorrow I will take care of it! But for now lets just relax and have a nice calm night hmm?" You took a deep breath feeling the tears well nodding.

You sighed looking down shit...your tits had fucking leaked again! That was the last straw, the flood gates opened you leaned to catch your face in your palms but Henry was quicker moving forward slipping his shoulder below your head letting you cry. "Oh honey whats wrong? Please we are fine, its okay whats? Oh-" you whined moving your hands to your boobs trying to hide the milk that was dripping adding to the wet patch on your shitty worn maternity bra.

"They- they wont stop oh god you must think this is gross!" Henry pulled back tutting shaking his head with a grin.

"Gross? The fact that your getting ready to feed our child? No love" he moved to unclip your bra taking it off he moved quickly to support your huge heavy breasts. You hissed as your breasts moved they were full and aching. Henry watched fascinated as your nipples leaked the tiny drops."Their sore huh?" You nodded whining as he lightly ran the pads of his thumbs over the nipples plucking them lightly encouraging them to release more making you weep in embarrassment.

"Well lets go time for a bath!"

Henry was still angry, at this woman for getting to you, at you for letting her words get to you but mostly he was angry at himself for not being here for his wife!. He made vows better or for worse! He had broke them plain and simple admittedly he had been working but you had needed him and he wasn't here he had been none the wiser. He hadn't been there to help you take care of yourself when you struggled to and that would eat away at him for a long time. But he had to push that aside you were still fragile your crying began to pick up again though whether it was from pain shame sadness or relief he couldn't tell. You cried into him not the pretty movie star pretty tears, the full on frustrated painful broken sobs that mad your face ache!

"I'm sor-rry I just..It's hard!...I-I know I'm b-bigger than last time...And then she said a-all those things and Paige was u-up-set and she started w-worrying...Then I c-could-dnt shave and the stretch ma-marks got worse and my back hurt so-o I stopped running and-and now I'm fat and ugly and I want this baby out! It hurts he is so heavy and I-I can't sleep or move or do anything! I just sit and eat! And you w-wont want me anymore! I c-can't do this any-anymore! And wh-when you finally come ho-home I’m fucking squirting milk all over you!" You broke down explaining through heartbreaking sobs and he just held you tight rubbing your back in slow circles.

"Don't be silly my love! Of course I want you! I love you! And I'm here now to fix everything I promise... come on my beautiful wife I hate seeing you like this! And don't worry about the milk it happens! I don't mind love shh shh....Come on come here... Here lets get you in here, have a nice long soak off with all this" he moved around you skillfully removing your leggings leaving butterfly kisses across your skin making you smile

"Please y/n I love you don't ever ever question that...you are everything to me! You complete me and have given me an incredible little girl a beautiful home and now this... A little boy of my own, you make each day worth waking up for, you have brightened up my whole life! And gave me my dream of having a family...I love you and nothing will ever change that, don't let some woman s jealousy hang over you" you smiled sheepishly his sweet words ,meant so much to you his sincerity and conviction was enough to snap you out of your funk.

"Oh? Is that a smile? Oh I think it is~ oh my! Don’t tell me that Henry struck again with his boyish charm?" You giggled at him but then without wasting time he hoisted you into the steaming water...you sighed and cringed as you leaned back expecting Henry to leave but he didn't.

Instead he moved to the side collecting your razor and shaving cream placing them on the counter by the sink then moved dipping a flannel into the hot water then wrung it out placing it on your aching breasts you sighed as the milk flowed free faster releasing the pressure.

"Thank you love that’s better already, I will call you to help me out-Henry? what are you-" you were confused when he turned around grabbing a few more things he peeked over his shoulder and wriggled his eyebrows at you

"Shh love~" he scolded then returned with a sugar honey bodyscrub and exfoliating mittens you chuckled as he snapped on the bright pink cheap mittens

"Now my love if you would just bend over and take a deep breath~" you laughed at him splashing some water at him.

"Henry?! you tit! don't make me laugh it hurts my back!" He rolled his eyes and freezes before quickly shrugging off his blazer and shirt staying there topless.

"Naked man servant enough for tonight?...Seeing as I probably shouldn't fuck you senseless~" You smiled shyly and peeked down at him licking your lips.

"Not sure your not naked yet" he smirked

"You naughty little minx!" he gasped before and made a show of slowly undoing his belt giving a seductive hip shimmy making you laugh out loud Henry trying to give a strip tease in bright pink exfoliating gloves was priceless. You flushed when finally he did a arms and legs spread tada! motion As he dropped his boxers and did a comical spin poseing his 'guns' for you like some fucking cheesy swimsuit model.

"Oh my god! Henry!?" He looked down and shrugged seeing his cock standing up right at the sight of you.

"What? Told you you were sexy I can't help it? I'm like a dog with a bone...Or should I say man with a boner?" You snorted at him falling into peels of laughter slipping lower into the water. He moved closer kneeling next to the tub and leaned over following your face peppering you with kisses you squirmed still giggling he just lowered his hands into the tub and held the back of your head holding you still sucking on your neck lathering you with soothing licks from his hot tongue.

"God I love you! your perfect and leave this woman to me~ I will set her straight myself, prove to everyone just how much I fucking crave you my perfect little wife!" you whined at him as he pressed froward capturing your lips in a heated kiss devouring you wholey making you finally melt into him, he smiled feeling you relax into his kiss feeling more relived now.

He pulled back and smirked as you blushed a dark red and gave him another chaste kiss feeling very silly abut your fears.

"Thank you love...I'm sorry I should have spoken to you earlier but ...I didn't want you to rush home and...Your work is important and I don't want to....You know" he nodded pressing his forehead to yours looking straight into your eyes.

"Zack would have understood that you needed me...but enough of that lets get you all clean and comfy! Paige and I have a nice night planned for the five of us" he said rubbing your bump that was peeking out of the water.

You smiled at him nodding and going to reach for the honey bodyscrub but Henry batted you away collecting it on his own glove covered palm and rubbed it through coating his hands then dipped a hand below the water and tugged your leg out of the tub to rest on the rim. You squeaked as the movement made you lean back against the slanted tub, you watched with weary eyes as he pressed small sweet kisses on your embarrassingly hair leg making you squirm but the man had a tight grip on your ankle.

He moved quickly rubbing the scrub in slow deep circles on your tense calf you moaned as he pressed the knots out of your skin moving in an unhurried manor up over your knee making you giggle as he ran his fingers on the underneath. He worked up your leg making you relax and close your eyes sighing. His motions were hard and soothing like a deep tissue massage then he lowered your leg rinsing it in the warm water and pulled your other leg out repeating the same process spoiling you, lavishing you with soft kisses and praising you whispering how sorry he was for not being here and how he was going to make this all up to you. finally both legs were washed and felt like jelly, he moved hissing as he seated his bare ass on the side of the tub reaching over he collected your razor and shaving cream and made quick work of collecting your leg carefully lathering it in the foam then began to drag the razor across you.

You didn't flinch or protest, you were thank full for it you needed a shave but hadn't really been able to reach, you'd been desperate enough even considering asking Paige but.....No. You loved when he did this...There was something strangely romantic in him taking care of you like this, just knowing that he didn't find your body gross sent little flutters in your chest. You watched silently enjoying the attention as he dragged the blade across your skin in long swipes concentrating on each drag of the blade then flicked it in the water until finally your leg was less werewolf more human.

"Woohoo look no cuts! lets go two for two shall we?" He lowered your leg back into the water with one parting open mouthed kiss on your bent knee making you giggle as he bit at it softly licking the now clean soft flesh. Sure enough he was quick to shave your other leg, avoiding cutting you which made him very proud of himself then he quickly pulled you down the length of the tub and began a soothing full body wash that just ended up being a massage. You both laughed as your son kicked out as his fathers hands each time he rubbed across the bump and soon it was a game, your baby trying to catch Henry with a kick. Finally though you were finished or you thought you was Henry was adamant about washing your hair you gave in dipping your hair into the water and lying back letting him scrub away the tension in your scalp using the lavender shampoo to help with the relaxing theme of the night. by the time you were squeaky clean you were half asleep his hands were heaven sent; like the rest of the man.

You felt the best you had in months not grotty, hairy and there was no pain anywhere just calm and relaxed so much so that you couldn't really move.

"You jumping in love?" you said over a yawn he shook his head slipping on his boxers you noticed that his erection was slowly going down. You were to far along and 'adult' time could start the labor...And as much as you couldn't wait for your baby boy to be here you wasn't going to risk anything, as far as you were concerned he could stay in your belly as long as he wanted just so long as he was a healthy baby on arrival.

Henry laughed as he carried you to your bed room patting you dry before wrangling you into your most comfortable fussy pajamas. you smiled at him lounging on the bed as he through on a t-shirt and bottoms of his own then helped you up knocking on Paige's room as you both walked past to go downstairs.

"Come on poppet! time for movie night!...Yes you to kal!" you smiled as Paige ran up to you hugging you tight and kissing your bump

"Are you better mummy?" you nodded to her

"Yes baby much better now...Daddy has taken care of me...But whats this about movie night? are we having snacks?"Paige smiled holding your hand and leaned back on her heels swinging happily.

"We-erm we got the apples!" Henry shushed her and quickly

"shh! that’s a surprise Paige-y" she quickly giggled as Henry hook an arm around her tummy picking her up and tickling her as he carried her down the stairs. You couldn't help the wide grin across your face. Who'd of thought just having a soothing bath and being taken care of by your man you'd snap out of your low mood. You followed as Henry directed you both into the den that was ready for a family movie night blankets and pillows galore almost like a huge slumber party. With in moments you and Paige were being treated to foot massages.

It was more comical then anything as Paige had never had a foot rub before and she was ticklish ,she caught Henry unawares and nearly took out his front teeth with a swift uncontrollable kick. He had retorted by quickly twisted around sitting on her legs and mercilessly tickled her feet until she was screaming and laughing you joined in blowing raspberries on her neck being careful of flailing limbs. She soon began whining and crying through her giggles and you both let up on her. she laid down picking through your nail varnish colours still wanting her her toes painted even thought she didn't want anyone to touch her feet...Which was going to be easy.

Henry flipped on the dvd to keep Paige occupied whilst you on the other hand had the task of painting the giggling child's toenails a bright aqua blue with tiny metallic pieces. Thankfully though years of painting your own nails meant you had it done in under five minuets.

"Now Paige be careful they won't be dry until the end of the film okay poppet?" She nodded smiling wriggling her little toes. With Paige finally settled you could lay back and relax. Henry got to work digging his skilled fingers into the soles of your feet rubbing away months of tension you moaned and flopped back into the mountain of pillows this was heaven you could get used to this. Henry watched the tv with Paige still working on the soles of your feet adding more baby lotion every now and then just as you were falling back to sleep Paige piped up she was hungry yawning she scratched her head and crawled onto your legs moving to press the side of her face on your belly wiping her eyes after her bath and tickles she was a very tired little nugget.

"Daddy...Daddy I'm hungry when can we have apples?" Henry smiled at her leaning over to kiss her head

"I will got do it now....You wanna stay here with Mummy?" she looked drowsely from him to you and nodded letting her head fall again onto your tummy. You smiled and ran your fingers through her hair, once Henry left Kal was quick to steal his warm spot lying with his spine against your legs head resting on your crossed feet. you moved bundling up Paige putting a pillow under her hips so she wasn't so twisted up and watched the tv. after some cursing and crashes and one broken plate later Henry returned holding the three plates high so you couldn't see what he had made.

"Paige? Paige come on snack time nugget" at the word snack the toddler was up and at'em hands held out high for food. You giggled then gasped when you saw what he had been slaving away over.

"OH?! Henry I-you haven't done these for years!" he smiled smugly.

"I know...Paige helped me so they might be sweeter this time...she added to much cinnamon so we had to add more sugar to didn't we nugget?" she hummed not really listening picking up the sugar sprinkled toasty to take a big bite. you went to stop her not wanting her to burn her mouth but Henry stopped you.

"Love, its cool I did hers first and opened it to let out the steam...That nice poppet?" she grinned nodding swallowing her mouthful.

"I like it daddy...like 'donalds apple pie...Mummy can Daddy cook now...Daddy does sweets!" you chuckled "We will see he might have to when the baby is here" she smiled cutely then looked to the tv again munching on her toasty

"Henry...What did you mean? Earlier? about Abbey?" he just grinned and winked

"Like I said babe leave it with me...I won't be nasty I promise...I just gonna set her straight, tell her if it carries on I’m getting the police involved”

"The police-Henry no-” you began to protest but he held up his hand a stern look

"Its harassment! I’m not letting her get away with it....look I'm just gonna tell her to stay away if she doesn't then I'm taking things further...Just don't worry I'm here now trust me?" you gulped you knew there wasn't really anything you could do but it unnerved you he must have been so angry when Paige told him.

"I do...I just I don't want anything to get worse remember she will still be here when your away" he rolled his eyes and quickly moved in giving you a kiss on your cheek

"Babe with the way her kids going I doubt she will be here by the end of term" you sighed and nodded you couldn't argue that then dropped the topic and snuggled back in with kal between you feeding the bear some apple he had put at the side of his plate.

You quickly found yourself stretched out on the floor, Henry beside you with Paige laying across the both of you. She had eaten her toasty and crawled over you and flopped, facing the tv nibbling the tip of her thumb head on Henry's chest, tummy over kal and legs sprawled out over your lap. It was when you heard her soft snores you both decided it was time for bed, Henry scooped up and tucked her in at you went to bed you where just drifting to sleep when Henry snuggled up behind you holding you tightly littering kisses to the back of your neck.

"I really do love you y/n I hope you know that" you hummed turning your head to him blinking tiredly.

"Yes I know...I love you to it...All this was just hormones I'm a weepy pregnant woman about to pop...So you gotta bare with me okay?" He smiled kissing your cheek sweetly.

"A tired pregnant woman more like come on sleep we both need it love" and that’s what you did getting the best nights sleep in a long time.

The next morning you awoke to Henry placing a hot cup of coffee and then moving to your wardrobe pulling out your favorite knit jumper and maternity leggings.

"Come on love we have half an hour!" You sat up surprised to find no backache at all making you smile then you registered what he had said and scrambled throwing your legs over the side of the bed.

"What?! Oh fuck! Paige! is she up? Shit-" Henry moved handing you your coffee

"She is up and ready...Well she wants plaits and I can't I’m all thumbs so you have todo her hair but she is dressed fed and watered, her lunch is done and her bag ready!" You smiled at him

"Well look at you a domesticated kryptonian, you house trained to?~" he flushed and moved to tickle you stopping when you held up the steaming coffee

"Yeah yeah just you wait~.Well I'm going to go make sure Paige is playing nicely see you in fifteen? " you smiled nodding to him.

By the time you came downstairs you had about ten minuets to get going. Henry was busying himself around the house, just doing a general tidy up collecting Paige's toys that had been strewn across the kitchen and living room. You took a second to appreciate him, he had been so sweet only being home for..well not even a day and he had already brought the house back into order, he had taken care of you and Paige spoilt the both of you eased your silly fears and had your daughter ready for school before you were even out of bed...The man needs a medal...Or blowy or two now that you can do!

"Mummy! Mummy can I have braids? Daddy tried he can't he pulls and knots it!" You chuckled when she ran up to you holding her little box pf hair clips and ties. You nodded seeing Henry attempt being a loose....Is that a braid? Honestly your not sure what to call it but it was scruffy and bad and it would be a god send if you could get it out! you giggled and looked to a red faced Henry who had folded his arms watching embarrassed at the state he had left his little pumpkins hair in.

"What? I-I tried okay?"

"That you did and it was a valiant attempt...But seriously you need to get your ass on youtube love~" You moved quickly untangling the...what ever it was you had to use a lot of de tangling spritz but finally Paige had two neat braids and soon you were all out the door.

It wasn't until half way to the playschool Henry had remembered he had to pop to the shop something about getting bacon and more milk. You nodded to him, as he gave you kals lead saying he would meet up with you at the school. You and Paige continued to the school waiting t the gates with Fran and Micah.

"She ain't her yet then?" You asked Fran nodded

"Yeah, Patty is already on one, fucking little heathen just bit Rose look"

"Mummy whats a heathen?"you gave Tran a look giggling out of the side of her mouth you looked and sure enough Rose was screaming holding her cheek crying into her mothers legs as her mother was screaming at Abbey who was coddling Patty shouting at everyone who would listen that patty had a right to stick up for herself. You rolled your eyes at the scene this child was just feral! And the mother no better."Nothing baby...Why don't you go see? Rose look shes sad" she nodded and ran off into the playground pulling rose away from her mother with Micah and a few of the other kids You shushed Kal as he barked at all the excitement you knew he wanted to go see the crying little girl he was attached to these kids, as far as the bear was concerned they were all his!.

Once Paige was out of ear shot Fran spoke up.

"Shes only here because they were kicked out of magpies and dee dee's" you looked to Fran what? She nodded to them subtly.

"Who? Patty?"

"Yeah...Abbey came in to the surgery, wanting to be tested for adhd...Shes convinced thats the problem apparently Patty was kicked out of magpies for fighting and then dee dee's...The kid needed stitches she bit a chunk out of his thigh...She was supposed to go to one of those playschools for the challenging children, you know? with the anger management and quiet times...Got to come here though cos Abbey said its adhd but obviously we cant test for it until shes older she was told to get Patty to counselling but refused....Its not though, I've see adhd and that is just a badly behaved little girl who in my opinion needs a smacked ass and a time out." You agreed laughing just as Abbey came strutting past with Patty...looks like she's being sent home again.

"Don’t you fucking judge me whore! And what have I said about that fucking mutt! Keep it away from the school or I will have it put down!-"

"OH NO YOU FUCKING WONT!" oh fuck she didn't...Not infront of Henry You froze as Henry shouted loud and clear, the playground got silent. Noone had ever heard Henry raise his voice even the children stopped to stare whispering about Superman.Paige held onto Rose

"I-its okay daddy isn’t mad at us...I think?" As far as Henry was concerned it was bad enough to upset you and Paige but threatening Kal's life fuck no!

Abbey faltered taking a step back at the frightening scowl on his face, in one hand he had a bag of shopping the other was a small bouquet of flowers. Your heart melted a little already knowing the lillys; your favorite flowers were for you. But you shook your head moving to him as he squared up to Abbey, he just wedged himself between you and the other woman shushing Kal. who was yipping anxiously about you both.

"So your Abbey and Patty? Well I'd like a word with you if you don't mind..." his voice was a growl you'd never herd before he definetly channeling some inner dark fucking protective alpha shit. I mean fuck he could so play a villain? where was your soft boy?.

"Mummy? Why is superman here...Is he really Paiges daddy-"

"Oh hush Patty of course he isnt-"

"Thats what I wanted to talk about" she looked to Henry again and stuttered

"W-what I-" You gulped as he gained on you both Kal was still pulling to go see the upset toddler...he was a nanny dog.

"I’m warning you this once.Stay away from my family, I mean it you've caused enough upset and I'm home now and noone...And I mean noone fucking upsets my wife and daughter! She might take it but I'm not. You've upset my heavily pregnant wife ,confused my daughter and now I hear you threatening my dog? You know what you've done is slander...Causing serious stress to a pregnant woman can been seen as intent to harm her and MY baby and is also harassment...I'm giving you this one chance you and your daughter stay away or I will come down on you like a tonne of bricks and have you in court before you know it" your heart fluttered as Henry came to a stop beside you.

"W-what I haven't done anything! Neither has Patty! We havent done anything! I don't know what your fucking wife has said but-"

"You've been running your mouth, I just heard it myself like I said I will go to the courts and get the police involved, its harassment, intent to harm and slander, which being in the public eye we take very seriously, if I hear any more about it I will be on to my lawyers quicker then you would believe. I'v said my piece. Stay away from my family." He turned his back on her and smiled down at you you glanced between him and her.

“Henry- what are-?” he placed his hand on your arm soothing you

"No-Love I'm sorry I told you...I'm not putting up with it...I will look into injunctions today" that caught the womans attention and she flipped her lid.

"INJUNCTIONS! HOW WILL THAT WORK PATTY GOES TO THE SAME SCHOOL!? WHAT YOU THINK I WILL TAKE MY DAUGHTER OUT?" Henry looked over his shoulder at the woman.

"No honestly I think she will be excluded by that point...Biting and attacking the other kids? I will tell you one thing though Patty ever attacks Paige I will personally see to you both being thrown out on your ass! All these kids here have a right to be safe in school and by law the staff here have a right to Exclude any children who harm the other kids." Abbey huffed eyes blazing

"You think you can do that-"

"Not alone but we do have a pta...One vote and we can demand Patty's removal from the class for the safety and well being of the other children " she screamed angry and turned screeched and walked of dragging Patty along behinde her.

"B-but Mummy you said he wasn't her daddy! You said-"

"Oh will you shut up! You've caused enough trouble for one day Patricia!" Henry smirked after the woman and turned to you handing you the small bouquet of flowers.

"And these are for you my love~" you blushed sniffing them softly thanking him you felt giddy. Suddenly before you could say anything the other kids all gathered round each taking turns giving Kal his morning cuddles then asking Henry questions about being superman squealing when he played along and admitted it but made them promise to keep it a secret. You chuckled as he answered them each the the best of his ability getting stumped a few times dodging a few bullets here and there. It wasn't long before Miss Bou had to round up the kids for class and you were on your way home after getting a few 'well done' comments from some of the other mothers.

"Soo babe....Me thinks you deserve a little reward for all your hard work..."

"Hard work? babe I just-"you rolled your eyes hooking an arm around his leaning against him breathing him in.

"yes hard work...Putting me straight last night looking after me and Paige, coffee in bed and you tidied the house and now this...Sorting out the vindictive woman and her kid- which by the way was a complete turn on watching you go all alpha scary daddy!UGH fuck my panties are wet" he took a deep breath willing himself to calm down.

"Ugh woman don't even go there you know we can't-" you kissed his shoulder and interrupted him.

"Ah ah~ no your right we can't have full on sex...But there are other ways for me to worship my husband~" he stopped and blinked confused then his face lit up

"what do you OH Fuck!...Am I getting a blowy?" You hummed pretending to think about it.

"Well No" his face dropped and he whined his hopes shattered

"Then what-" you smiled cheekily up at him

"Think Daddy earned more then one blowy Baby~" his face lit up like Christmas and slung his arm around your shoulder holding you tight.

"Oh fuck yes! Come on hurry up~ quickly Kal mush! pull mummy faster! come on woman get a waddle on I need to be in your mouth like fucking yesterday!" You giggled as he ushered you home faster eager to have his well earned reward you laughed knowing that today was going to be a good day.

#henry cavill fic #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x daughter #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill x you

432 notes · View notes