#wheres the drabble about america and this I wrote last year
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The Effect You Got On Me: From the Vault (No. 1)
No. 1: don't worry, darling, 'cause I'm here with you
No. 2 // No. 3 // No. 4 // No. 5 // No. 6 // No. 7 // No. 8 // No. 9 // No. 10
Summary: Drabble collection based on the events of The Effect You Got On Me
Pairing: Kate Bishop x Reader.
Song: Don't Worry by the 1975
Warnings: None for this one, just wholesome friendship. However, 18+ for future parts, minors DNI.
Word count: 1.7 K
Read on AO3 // PLAYLIST
Author's Note: Basically, I'll be posting drabbles that were meant to be part of the main story, so I'll give you context for each if needed. This one, specifically, was the first version I wrote for part 1, and it's a look into the friendship. If anyone wants to be tagged for this, lemme know. Enjoy!
"Fuck, I shouldn't be here."
You sniffled and frantically rummaged through your bag, searching for the tiny mirror you always had with you. You brought it up to your face once you found it, seeing your messy reflection and trying to get the running mascara off your face with the back of your hand. At least your looks matched how you felt inside. You sighed, defeated, as you only made it worse. You looked back at the door, chewing on your lip, still deciding whether or not you should knock.
You didn't even really know how you ended up there. You just knew you ran out of the coffee shop where the girl you loved broke your heart and you found yourself there, outside of Kate Bishop's apartment. While you and Kate were friendly, you weren’t that close. She was funny and easy to talk to and you enjoyed her company as much as her wild stories about all the trouble she'd get herself into, but she wasn't your best friend. There was no reason for you to be here and yet, here you were. Heartbroken, mascara running down your face, and knocking on her door.
A bit of fumbling was heard on the other side, before a small "coming!" followed. It sounded a bit far, and you pondered how many seconds you had left to turn on your heels and walk away before she could see you.
Out of sight, out of mind, right?
The door opened just as you were about to turn around and she looked at you with furrowed eyebrows, confusion written all over her ocean blue eyes.
"Y/N? Are you okay?" Kate immediately asked, her expression softening as she took a good look at you. "What happened to you?"
You regretted being there immediately. "God, Kate, I'm so sorry to bother you, I just—" I don't even know why I'm here. "You know what? I shouldn't have come, I'll let you be."
You turned around and took a step towards the stairwell before you felt a hand wrap around your arm, pulling you back to where you were.
"Don't be ridiculous, you're not bothering me. Come on in," Kate said, stepping aside to let you walk into her house. "I have pizza on the way."
She didn't let go of her grip on you until you were sitting on her couch in front of a flat-screen TV playing some random sitcom on mute. By the looks of the books and notes spread across the coffee table, you could tell you had caught her studying for something.
"Kate, I'm sure you are busy and I wouldn't want to—"
"I told you, you're not bothering me. I needed a break anyway." Kate brushed it off as she walked to the kitchen area. "I'm gonna make you a cup of tea, alright?"
You thanked her and sat quietly, looking around her loft apartment. You had only been there twice, once for a party during freshman year and the second time a few months before, when you had tagged along with America, your actual best friend, to pick her up for some sort of sporty tournament they were competing in. The place mainly remained untouched, with the exception of the very friendly golden retriever that had greeted you the last time you were there.
"Where's your dog?" You asked looking back at her as she set two cups down on her kitchen counter.
"He's on a date," she said with a little amused smile on her lips as she poured boiling water into the cups. She continued, "Yelena is convinced that her dog, Fanny, and Lucky have a lot of chemistry so she wanted to take them out together to the dog park to confirm her theory they are meant to be." She put a tea bag on each of the cups and let them sit for a moment, while she looked for something on a table at the far end of the loft. "She is keeping him for the night because, according to her, they need time to bond."
You couldn't help the small laugh that escaped your lips at the thought of two dogs in love. "That's adorable."
"Yeah, she's been sending me a lot of pictures. I'll show you in a bit."
Kate returned to her living room holding a cup in each hand and something under her right arm. She placed both mugs on the coffee table and sat on the couch facing you, sitting cross-legged on the cushions while she pulled whatever she was holding from under her arm. Up close, you could see it was makeup remover wipes.
"Now, she said, pulling one out of the container and carefully grabbing your chin to make you look at her. "Let me take care of this."
You nodded, your breath getting caught in your throat as she gently dabbed the wipe across your face, getting rid of every trace of mascara she found, the tip of her tongue peeking out of a corner of her mouth in concentration. You just sat there, looking at her with silent gratitude. Maybe this was why you had come to her—America had always said Kate had a way of making everyone feel safe around her and right at that moment, you felt protected.
"All done," she said after a while of comfortable silence around you with a prideful look on her face.
"Thank you," you muttered and grabbed the cup of tea in front of you with both hands, letting its warmth fill you up.
"Don't mention it," she replied, mirroring you and leaning back on the couch. "Wanna talk about it?"
You sighed, finally remembering why you had ended up here in the first place. Kate looked at you expectantly, taking a sip of her tea as she waited for you to speak. Telling her why you had crashed her night was the least you could do, even if you didn't really want to.
"Do you remember Sharon, my girlfriend?" You asked. Kate nodded. "She called me today saying we needed to talk and, long story short, she said she felt lost and needed to find herself outside of me, that she wasn't sure she felt the same way and—" your voice started breaking, tears threatening to fall again. "She broke up with me."
"Oh, honey, I'm so sorry," Kate cooed, putting down her mug again and leaning forward to caress your arm up and down. "Can I give you a hug?"
You put down your mug too and that was all the confirmation Kate needed to wrap her arms around you, holding you to her tightly while stroking your back soothingly. Her tenderness made you break down again, immediately sobbing on her shoulder, unable to contain yourself despite feeling embarrassed your friend was seeing you like this. Kate didn't seem to mind, never losing her hold on you while whispering softly "it's okay, you're going to be okay'' into your hair.
"Is there something wrong with me, Kate? Why wasn't I enough?" the words escaped your lips unintentionally. The brunette pulled away just enough to hold your cheeks in her hands so you would look into her eyes.
"Nothing's wrong with you, Y/N, some people are just dumb enough to not see what they have. She's going to regret letting you go, I promise you that." She was so reassuring and gentle that you almost believed her, even when your entire world had been shifted upside down.
"I love her and she just–"
"Oh, I know, dear, she sucks. You deserve so much better than that."
Before any of you could say something else, Kate's phone started buzzing on the coffee table and she widened her eyes as if she had just remembered something, pulling away and leaning forward just enough to reach her phone.
"Shit, I forgot…" She muttered mostly to herself, looking at the screen of her phone while scrunching up her nose and answering the call. "Hey, I'm so sorry, but something came up. Raincheck?" you saw a flash of annoyance appear in her eyes as she listened to whoever was on the other line, which wasn't noticeable at all when she spoke again. "I'll make it up to you, gorgeous, I promise. Gotta go, though, bye," she hung up the call and put her phone back on the table. She looked back at you. "Sorry about that."
You cleared your throat and wiped the tears left on your face. "I interrupted something, didn't I?" You said, your first instinct being to get up and walk away. You stood up from the couch. "You had a date and I just barged in here without a warning and–"
"Y/N, you didn't interrupt anything, I swear. Sit back down," she placed her hand on your arm, slightly pulling down on your sweater for you to sit again. She looked at you with soft reassuring eyes and after the night you had, you weren't going to fight it. “Come on, tell me what else happened.”
Falling into a comforting bubble of trust with Kate was easier than you ever thought it would be. She listened to you ramble on and on about your heartbreak, listening to every word out of your mouth as if it were the most important thing ever spoken. Not once did she make you feel judged, or like a burden. She was not shy with sharing her opinions about Sharon–which, truthfully, lined up with everything else your other friends had expressed before–but she didn’t dwell too much on it, clearly trying to not make you feel any worse. Soon enough, the conversation topic shifted and you were no longer crying.
A soft knock on the door resonated across the room, making Kate stand up immediately. "That's probably the pizza. Here," she reached for her phone again, and handed it up to you, her text message conversation with Yelena on the screen. "Look at the pictures while I get it, be right back."
You couldn't help the chuckle that escaped your lips as you saw the first picture, a selfie of the very excited blonde and the two dogs sitting in a park. You swiped to the left and a picture of Lucky and Fanny walking side by side came up, Yelena's hand holding the purple and red leashes while giving a thumbs up. The remaining pictures were just as adorable, both dogs either playing together or laying on the grass side by side while looking into the horizon.
"Pretty cute, right?" Kate returned with a squared box in her hands, putting it on her small dining table near the stairs to her bedroom. "Come on, pizza is medicine for heartbreak, dig in."
“Thank you, Kate.”
“No need to thank me. That’s what friends are for, right?”
TAGLIST: @sunshadesnrainbowz @imlike-so-gaydude @hopingforromanoff @ittynyte
#Kate bishop x reader#kate bishop x female reader#kate bishop x you#marvel fanfiction#kate bishop fluff#hawkeye series#hawkeye#writing#the effect you got on me
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Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self love 🤎
Lent From Tomorrow (today was too small for us) - MCU/Captain America, Steve/Bucky, WIP
This is simply the best thing I've ever written, including stuff for my MFA. I think I've finally managed to write A Plot, and it's very exciting for me.
2. Could Use A Guy Like Me - Stranger Things, Steve/Joyce, 10k
I really like the way I built character for Joyce in this, and for Steve, too, but Joyce is a lesser-explored character in canon, I think, because she's Just The Mom in a lot of her canon characterization. Which was the whole inspiration for this (the two Moms of the group, hah), really. And I like the voice that I was able to write this in? I'm just proud of it.
3. A Constraint That Makes It Possible to Fly - Star Wars, gen/all/any, 6k
I should get back to adding to this every once in a while, tbh, because I do love this fic. It's a Wings!AU where the size of someone's wings shows their sensitivity to the Force, and how that would change things in canon -- like, everyone can see that pregnant Padme is hella Force sensitive when she wasn't before; Rey and Finn have massive wings growing up and don't know why, etc. A lot of the drabbles in this nonlinear story are some of my all-time favorites. The Leia+Vader section is my favorite SW thing that I've solo-written.
4. The Five Places Cinna Came From - The Hunger Games, Cinna/Finnick, Finnick/Annie, Katniss/Peeta, Cinna/OFC, 60kish I think?
The fact that I wrote this 13 years ago and still reread it and like it means that I'm pretty proud of it. I feel like the idea was creative and I'm proud that I followed through on it and actually wrote all five, for once (hah). The only one that I think reads weak is District 5, but that makes sense since it's the District in this fic that doesn't have much, if any, canon information to build it out. It's dark as hell, but I do love this series.
5. Not in the Answer But the Question - MCU/Captain America, Steve/Bucky, 28k
Firstly, I'm proud that I pushed through some major writer's block to finish this after struggling on it for a really long part of the writing process. Something about the voice just wasn't gelling for me for MONTHS, but I actually went back and rewrote and was able to make it something that I think turned out well. I wish that I'd had more time to flesh out the last quarter, but overall, I think I did pretty well by this premise.
ALT. In Screaming Color - Star Wars, Poe/Rey, WIP/Hiatus
I really want to finish this fic someday, because I do love what's posted, and more than that, I love the 3/4 of the fic that's written but not posted yet because it's missing its connective tissue. I just need to get back on the Star Wars horse at some point. At some point.
And I tag @fille-lioncelle @glamorouspixels @morethanonepage @dracosollicitus and @voylitscope!
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AMOMK - unexpected (ar)rivals; pt 2
This work was based on the original story A Map of Mrs. Kims (and the drabbles that started it all!) created by @bonvoyagenoona and various members of the Tumblr BTS fanfic community! (You can also read it on ao3!)
i'm not super satisified with how this came out but PROBABLY because i wrote it when i SHOULD'VE been working on finals. anyway. i also gave jin his fluffy black swan mullet bc i'm a sucker for that look. enjoy :^) and be sure to read the original work, ofc! (also bear w me as i try to figure out the new fancy ways to format stuff on tumblr, i'm so behind lol)
Korea.
She can’t remember the last time she stepped foot in her home country - it has to be close to a decade, if not more. She left after only one year in university, went to America to pursue some dreams, and now after so, so many years abroad, she is back not only in Korea, but her hometown, the place where she grew up; the place she missed the most in all the time she was gone. It almost seems as if nothing has changed, and the whole town has stood still through time.
Not this grocery store, though.
The grocery store is busier than she ever remembers it being. Once upon a time it was a quiet little place where local parents did their shopping, everyone knew everyone else and could stop to chat in the fridge aisle to boast about their kids and make plans for the weekend. But the atmosphere - and the shop - have changed so much, she just keeps walking in circles, trying and failing to find all the items on her relatively short list.
“They moved the noodles?” She sighs, making the middle-aged woman beside her give her a quick side eye. She really does need to stop talking in English so much. But seriously, how could they have switched all the aisles around? Did that happen before they redid the floors or after? Before or after the store was expanded? Before or after they moved the entrance doors?
As if to relieve her of worrying over where to find everything for just a moment, her phone rings in her back pocket, and she’s too quick to fish it out and answer.
“Hobiiiiii,” she groans. “I can’t find anything.”
“Yuna?” Her cousin asks over the phone. “I can’t hear you.” So they redid all the floors and expanded and moved the entrance and switched the aisles, but this place still has horrible reception?
“How about now?” She asks, adjusting her basket on one arm and walking to the end of the aisle.
“Little better. Listen, are you all set with grocery shopping?”
“All set? I’ve barely started,” she mutters in English, before switching back to Korean and repeating herself. Jung Hoseok, her beloved cousin and dance twin, is silent for a moment before sighing.
“Well, maybe we can go together later? I need the car pretty soon. Sorry, Yu-yu.” She chuckles when he calls her that - despite being a cousin and two years younger than him, they’ve always operated on the same wavelength, and no one else has ever given her a nickname except once a long time ago. So long, in fact, that she really can’t remember what it was.
“Yeah, sounds good,” she replies finally. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize how much everything would change.” Hoseok laughs joyfully, which is a good sign. She knows he’s a busy man between his dance studio and getting ready to move into a new apartment, so her arrival back in Korea and deciding to crash on his couch is less than perfect timing.
“Don’t worry. Text me when you’re on your way back and I’ll meet you downstairs?”
“Sounds good,” she promises, and hangs up after he gives her a sing-song farewell. It’s only been a week, but she thinks Hoseok might begin to crack sooner rather than later. She needs to find a hotel or something, maybe a cheap apartment of her own, to get out of her cousin’s hair.
Yuna swivels into the aisle parallel to the no-longer-noodles aisle and is immediately greeted with an overwhelming orchestra of scents and fragrances. On her left are scented and unscented candles, and on the right are air fresheners, little hanging car trees, Febreze canisters, and what looks like scented wipes. What for, she has no idea.
Quickly she takes her phone out again. Hoseok loves scented candles, but he’s particular.
“Hobi?”
“That was quick,” he giggles. “I’m not even dressed.”
“I’m not home yet,” she scoffs. “What kind of candle do you want?”
“Oh! Hmm,” he hums thoughtfully. “What do they have?”
She starts down the aisle, switching her phone hand and her basket arm to avoid the group of people clustered around the center of the aisle where all the red-colored candles are. Three men and one woman a bit past her middle years. One man is in an obviously tailored suit, somewhat out of place, and the other is dressed in a button up and slacks and glasses. The third has a mop of messy mint hair and is staring down at his phone, shifting his weight on his heels. The three form a little circle around who she assumes is their mother while the son in a suit reaches towards the top shelf for an apple cinnamon scented candle.
“Hold on,” she mutters in English, and Hoseok hums again, rustling around on the other end as he gets dressed. “What’s in French vanilla that makes it French?”
“Huh?”
“What’s in French vanilla that makes it French?” She asks again, this time in Korean. She skirts around the back of the suited man, carefully tucking her elbow in to avoid hitting the small of his back. Out of curiosity she steals a glance at the stranger, just to see if his face reveals anything as to why he’s wearing such expensive clothes in a local supermarket. With shoulders that broad. And lips that plush. Does she know that smooth face?
He begins to turn towards her and she swivels around casually, squishing her phone between her cheek and shoulder.
“So French vanilla?”
“If you want,” Hoseok replies, his voice a little far away. “I’m not a huge fan, though.”
“Oh.” She realizes he’s been talking in her ear the whole time and she wasn’t listening. “So maybe something-”
“Don’t worry about candles, Yu,” Hoseok chuckles. “I just need the car for now. We’ll go back out tonight, okay?” It’s a gentle push - she expects nothing less from her Hobi - but a push nonetheless.
“Right. I’ll just check out quickly,” she replies, a little embarrassed. The feeling of eyes on her back is strong, burning almost, but she turns out of the aisle without looking back at the suit with the shoulders or the others. Maybe she recognized the guy in slacks and the one with mint hair, too, but it’s hard to tell.
A lot of people have been almost recognizable since coming home, but she’s sure she doesn’t know as many of them as she thinks she does. A lot of people must have moved up and away by now, grown up, had their kids and spouses and gotten their houses.
She checks out as quickly as possible and winces at the price tag for even her small basket, and then reluctantly swipes her card through. Hurrying to the car, she doesn’t linger in the parking lot to set up her aux cord before getting on the road and back to Hoseok’s apartment.
That night she and Hoseok don’t make it to the grocery store, so they go the afternoon after, just before rush hour. He’s driving with the windows down and music loud, wind whipping at their hair together and sometimes threatening to tear her sunglasses off. His current apartment is conveniently equidistant from the heart of the city and the suburbs, but to take in the nice spring weather Hoseok had decided to go into the burbs for shopping.
“Less smelly,” he had cackled as they got into the car. So far, he’s right.
His music is good, of course, and he dances a little in his seat which means they drift a little in their lane, but she doesn’t care too much. She’s happy to be taking it in with him, happy to be back in Korea where her family - not just Hoseok, but her sister and mother - are all close by.
Another car comes around the corner, sleek and shiny and looking slightly out of place in the suburban setting...more spaceship than car.
“Someone rich lost their way from the city,” Hoseok sings teasingly, but abruptly cuts himself off as the other car lurches to a sudden halt. They gasp a little in unison and then crane forward over the dashboard to peer into the road, checking to see what could’ve possibly caused the spaceship car to stop so soon; she expects some kind of animal, but there’s nothing. Just the road. Not even a pothole.
Hoseok slows down as well, scanning for something in the road, but when he sees nothing he merely mutters and finds the gas again, turning the music back up. He squints through his sunglasses as the other car passes.
“Oh, wow, I think that was the Kims,” he says as they drive by, lifting his sunglasses briefly before sliding them back down.
“You know there are a lot of people named Kim in Korea?” She laughs. “Who are the Kims?”
“You know them,” Hoseok says, glancing quickly at him. “Kim Namjoon? Weren’t you in school with him? There was another Kim brother in my class, too, the older one.”
“Namjoon?” She echoes.
She does recognize the name, but it’s a bit difficult to recall his face. She remembers a tall and lanky kid who might’ve run track or something, but not much else. They had been friends once, close friends, throughout school. But there were three Kim brothers, weren’t there? Namjoon, and two others. One of them she’d gone to university with before transferring to America and living with her dad.
“Like Kim Seokjin?”
His name sounds so unusual on her lips after so long, but there is also a tinge of familiarity to it. What did everyone call him? Jin. They had started university together; she remembers playing games late at night and studying early in the morning, getting their meals together, spending time in his dorm since he was alone...spending lots of time. She remembers suddenly the three men and their mother in the grocery store earlier, and the one in the suit with those wide shoulders. And the one in glasses. Was that Namjoon? He’s filled out nicely, if so. She wasn’t able to catch the full face of the one in the suit, but no one else had shoulders like that, in this world or any parallel version of it.
“And Taehyungie,” Hoseok adds. “I see him around sometimes, with his crazy hair.” He giggles. The mint one - that had been Taehyung? Last she saw him he had been a kid, or at least a teenager. God, how long has it been? “You look spooked,” her cousin laughs, reaching over to nudge her arm. “Feel old yet?”
“Yeah, God, I do,” Yuna mutters. “Do you keep in contact with the Kims? I’d love to see them all again. I hope their parents are doing well.”
“Oh, their mom is doing great,” Hoseok snickers. “I only have Taehyung’s number, but maybe I can text him? Dinner on the weekend when everyone’s free? I haven’t seen those three in a while.”
“Sounds good,” she murmurs, nodding absently, the Kims stuck in her mind. Dinner on the weekend. From the moment her plane touched ground in Korea, she began operating under the assumption that everyone from the past is gone, moved away, settled down or scattered on the wind. But the Kims remain. All three of them remain in their hometown, or at least nearby, probably not more than a healthy stone’s throw from their parents. Why?
Quietly leaning against the passenger side window, Yuna files that question away into the suddenly emerging folder in the corner of her brain, and lets the other memories of her last years in Korea bubble up to the surface.
On Wednesday and Thursday it rains, restricting her inside while Hoseok bounces to and from work during the day and focuses on packing at night. She makes a point to cook for him and do her best to help with the packing; this is the first move ever since he came to the apartment. Packing up your whole life from the past few years is no easy task, but she likes to think what little she does with him, sitting on the living room floor and sorting all the things non-essential to daily life into boxes carefully labeled by her own hand, helps.
Thursday night while the rain falls, she gets a text.
☀️hobi🕺(7:02 PM): Gonna be late tn! :((((( would you mind starting some dinner around 8?
YuYUUU (7:02 PM): of course :) i’ll go look to see what you have
She originally types in what we have, but she still feels guilty grouping herself forcefully with Hoseok; plus, it gives her a false sense of longevity to their current situation. She has about a week, maybe two, until she really needs to get out of her cousin’s hair. So far he’s agreed to host her even after he moves into his new place, but it’s still a one-bedroom apartment, if more spacious and with a better view and water pressure (so he claims), and the air mattress in the living room is getting old fast. He says it’s mostly selfish, since she’ll be able to help him with his move, but after that she can’t imagine he wants her around much longer.
When she walks into the kitchen and begins opening all of the cabinets, the fridge, the drawers, she quickly realizes that Hoseok has no food.
At least, no ingredients. They have leftovers that are getting suspiciously old. Instant ramyeon. Some veggies and fruit, some noodles, but nothing really substantive enough to put together a meal, especially if he won’t be home for the next hour or so. Leaning against the fridge she turns to her phone to scroll through takeout places around them, since she’s sure he won’t want to sit down anywhere. Some of the delivery charges are through the roof, though they seem almost worth it in the downpour outside.
A single name catches her eye and she puts her thumb down to stop the lazy scrolling of her screen; the picture of the front of the place looks a little different, but it’s definitely the same place she remembers from before. Seoul Food. A cute name, but definitely not the only restaurant in the country that uses it. It had been a personal favorite back in high school, when the original owners - a cute old married couple - ran it. She remembers the pork bulgogi and the tteokbokki, delicious and hot, and quickly checks the hazy PDF of the menu uploaded on the barebones website. It hasn’t changed too much, but where the names of the owners were once listed, there’s now only one name.
YuYUUU (7:17 PM): is some takeout okay? there’s a place down the street
☀️hobi🕺(7:21 PM): What about the rain?? :((((
YuYUUU (7:21 PM): it’s letting up a bit, i’ll just go there and back before it gets bad🏃
☀️hobi🕺 (7:22 PM): Only if you want!
☀️hobi🕺 (7:22 PM): nothing in the kitchen?
YuYUUU (7:22 PM): just some really...interesting smelling leftovers
She can imagine Hoseok’s laughter when he reads that text, sudden and gleeful and full. Hopefully, despite the long day, he isn’t feeling too stressed.
It takes some rifling to find his one umbrella tucked away in the packing boxes, but when she does find it she opens it once - just to see if it’s still as broken as Hoseok claims (it is, but it’ll work.) Then she has to sort through her half-unpacked suitcase to find the rainjacket she definitely put in here somewhere, and then find her old sneakers that are so discolored and worn that it really won’t matter if they get sopping wet. In fact, it might give her a reason to buy a new pair.
The rest of the apartment building is relatively quiet, enjoying their little secluded lives behind their closed doors. She jogs down the stairs while putting her earbuds in and pulling her hood up, pushing through the unusually heavy glass doors of the lobby and out into the storm. In the end, Yuna finds she was right; it did lighten up just a bit, but the rain was still hard enough to be unpleasant. In a few moments her forehead is soaked, and the soles of her shoes are getting soggy. Definitely an excuse to buy a new pair - she can picture them now, custom platform Converse. Just before moving back home from America she’d gotten into a platform shoe phase, and bought a few pairs of inch, inch a half, and two inch sandals for the upcoming Korean spring. Heels weren’t really her thing, but modest platforms had a different kind of kick to them.
But custom platforms were, what, almost $100 in American dollars? How much was that in won? 127,000? They would have to wait until she found an apartment and a steady job over here. And that would probably have to wait until she got around to visiting her mother and sister, which would hopefully happen after her mother and sister even knew she had moved back to Korea.
The bell hanging just above the little door leading into Seoul Food rings daintily as she enters, shivering at the sudden change in temperature. A woman appears behind the counter almost immediately, smiling at her but looking a little frazzled.
“Hi, did you call ahead?” She asks, eyes scanning the small collection of large brown bags already set on the counter with receipts and names attached.
“Oh, no. I’m not in a rush, though,” Yuna replies, adding that last part quickly as the woman’s face tightens. “I’d like an order of the yachae mandu to start, and then some pork bulgogi, tteokbokki, and...the chicken bibimbap, please. For Kang, all to go.”
“Alright,” the woman says, her voice a little strained. “It’ll be about 30 minutes, is that okay?”
“Yeah, of course. I’m not in a rush,” Yuna repeats, smiling at the woman. “I’ll just take a seat over here?” The woman behind the counter nods, her smile turning a little more genuine, before turning and scurrying back into the kitchen.
Pulling her phone from her pocket, Yuna makes her way to the small, two-person table that’s situated against the big window near the door, looking out over the parking lot. It’s more or less empty, just two other cars. The rain is getting heavy again, beating against the glass as she squeezes the water out of her hair and pulls it back into a damp bun to get it off her neck.
☀️hobi🕺(7:52 PM): Any luck??
YuYUUU (7:53 PM): just put in an order, i’ll be back hopefully right around the time you are :)) you still like bibimbap, right?
She squints as someone’s headlights swing around and land on her through the window when a new car pulls right up to the restaurant, idling for a minute or two before switching off. Above the sound of the rain she hears the car door slam, and then the little bell rings as someone else walks in.
“Mr. Kim!” The woman from the kitchen calls out, waving one hand at the man. Yuna smiles to herself - there really are a lot of Kims in Korea. “Just a moment, please!”
“Take your time,” the newcomer replies, and his voice is surprisingly young.
☀️hobi🕺 (7:55 PM): of course 🤪 what else did you get?
The newcomer’s phone rings before he can look around for a seat to take, and she watches from the corner of her eye - he’s standing a decent distance and slightly behind her - as he takes it swiftly from his pocket and lifts it to his ear.
“Hello to you too,” he mutters after a moment. “Do you need something, Taehyung?”
And Taehyungie.
Maybe there are a lot of Kims in Korea, maybe too many, but she only knows one Kim Taehyung. Carefully, Yuna adjusts in her seat so she’s sitting sideways on it, legs outstretched parallel to the table. The man is in a tailored suit and shoes that look like they really shouldn’t be worn in this weather. He stands with one in hand in his pocket, the other holding his phone, his back to her. The spitting image of that man in the grocery store with the wide shoulders and business clothes, with the same silky-looking black mullet that looks a little frizzy from the humidity of the rain.
“Send me the address,” he sighs. “I’m picking up dinner right now.” He waits. “Sure,” he says. “I’ll call you when I’m close.” He chews his lip for a moment before adding: “Stay safe until then, okay?” And then hangs up with a disgruntled sigh.
“Here you go, Mr. Kim,” the woman at the counter says as she reappears. The eldest Kim brother doesn’t seem to hear, staring down at his phone and the post-call screen for too long. At that moment Yuna decides to stand up, patting her scalp to press down any stray hairs and adjusting her rain jacket.
“Excuse me,” she says, and watches the muscles in the back of his neck tense and move as he lifts his head. After a second he turns, a little too forcefully, but she doesn’t move. “Are you Kim Seokjin?”
Seokjin is silent. But she’s sure it’s him. She recognizes his smooth face, his soft jawline, his American doll lips and his dark eyes. His hair is a little longer, but the mullet looks good on him. Surprisingly. He’s grown up. His nose is still cute. His neck is still thick and strong. His eyebrows are still envy-inducing.
“I’m sorry, I just couldn’t help but overhear your phone call. Your brother’s name is Taehyung, and the cashier called you Kim, so I-” she stops herself and gives a little shrug, her wet rain jacket rustling hollowly.
“No, I-” he speaks for the first time, and his voice is a little different too, probably a little deeper and more relaxed, but still somehow exactly as she remembered it. His eyes finally move, quickly tracing over her face and her hair and her clothes. “I had no idea you were back home, Yuna.”
He fumbles a bit with her name. Didn’t he have a nickname for her once?
“Mr. Kim?” The woman calls again, and Seokjin’s left shoulder jumps as he turns, hurriedly taking his wallet out as he walks over.
“Sorry,” he mumbles as he swipes his card, and takes the big bag she hands him once the payment goes through. “Have a good night.”
“Stay dry,” the woman says, smiling at him. Her eyes linger a little too long when his back finally turns on her and he walks back towards Yuna, but then she flies back into the kitchen.
“Wow, Yuna, I really had no idea,” Seokjin starts again, bag under one arm. He looks utterly lost. “Are you in a rush? How long have you been here?”
“No, I’m just waiting,” she replies. “I moved back about a week ago.”
“And you’re here permanently?” He asks. He keeps staring at her without blinking. “Or at least for now?”
“Here to stay,” she nods, smiling up at him. He’s average by American standards, but tall in Korea. He certainly feels tall. “Wow. It really has been a long time.” Seokjin’s lips curl into a polite smile before he looks around the restaurant.
“Maybe we should sit? I have some time,” he tells her, though judging by that phone call she isn’t quite sure how true that is. Either way, she gestures back to the little table by the window and he eagerly takes the seat across from her, placing his food on the wooden top.
The silence after that edges near awkward.
“You look great, Seokjin,” she says kindly, disbanding the quiet between them with ease. “I like the hair especially.” He chuckles a little shyly - was she always so direct with people? - and runs one damp hand through his hair. “Do you make a habit of wearing suits to get dinner?”
He’s still entranced by the way she says his name. His full name. People rarely ever call him Seokjin, just Jin. Seokjinnie or any variant of it from his mother doesn’t count. But Seokjin tumbles so easily off her lips, like she never stopped saying it even after so many years away. So smooth, so effortless, unlike the way he had struggled through Yuna earlier. It just feels unfamiliar, but as much as he searches his brain, he can’t figure out what else there was to call her.
“Not usually,” he chuckles. “I just got out of work. Late night. I wasn’t expecting it to rain so much these past few days,” he adds, looking out the window, squinting at his car through the water running down the glass. “You look soaked - did you walk here?” The rain has made her hair - a platinum blonde, he notices, with pink highlights, just like at the grocery store - wet, even though she’s pulled it back from her tan face into a little bun. Some errant strands still stick to her temples and the sides of her neck. And she has a septum piercing, a small silver ring resting against her philtrum. It looks good.
“Yeah, though now I’m regretting it a bit,” Yuna giggles, looking out the window too. “Hobi lives just down the street, and I’ve been staying with him until I can get my own apartment.”
“Hobi?” Jin mutters. “That’s right. Tae said he was moving out.”
In her absence he’d totally forgotten that she and Jung Hoseok, dancer extraordinaire, were cousins. Jin didn’t keep too much contact with Hobi, though they had been in school together; they’d occasionally acknowledge one another in local stores, and he was sure he’d seen Hobi out driving a few times, but only Taehyung talked with him more or less regularly. Taehyung always talked about bringing Hobi for dinner, but it never seemed to happen.
“Ms. Kang?” The cook calls her name, placing another big bag on the counter. Jin stands after she does and mingles around the door as she gets her food, watching her face hover unusually long above the little card reader before she pays.
It felt unreal. When she left him at university, he never expected to see her again. Moving across the world was no small feat. It had made him sad, and then angry, and after years alone he had finally given up feeling anything about it at all. She left to pursue her dreams, to live her life, to do her best, and he had to do the same. He had given up, and then he had forgotten.
She doesn’t look too different; she’s tanner, but still shorter than him, and her face is equal parts soft and well-defined, her eyebrows are still that perfect. Her green eyes seem lighter than before, but he doubts that’s possible. Her damp skin gives off a certain ethereal glow in the calm restaurant lighting, and when she sees him waiting for her, the smile she gives is so pristine, so model-like, so dimpled, he wonders how he forgot it at all.
“If you’re close, I don’t mind driving you back,” he says, putting one hand on the door. “It’s just getting worse as the night goes on.” She stands beside him, examining the black sky outside and listening to the rain pound away against the glass. Suddenly he feels like he’s at university again, but the feeling fades as quickly as it comes. “Plus, I’d love to talk some more.”
“That’d be great,” she agrees after a moment. “I appreciate it a lot. I don’t know what Hobi would say if he came home to soaked pork bulgogi.” His chest seems to swell at the fact that they got the same food; how could he not remember how many times they ate together before?
“Ready?” She asks, looking up at him with a playful raise of her eyebrow.
“If you are.”
He pushes open the door in one hard shove, making the bell rattle frantically, and they both dart out into the rain just as a massive clap of thunder shakes the sky overhead, so close it’s deafening. Jin hears her yell a little as she jumps off the sidewalk and hustles to the passenger side door.
“It’s locked!” Yuna cries.
“Shit,” Jin hisses, reaching into his pocket and fumbling with the key fob while he hunches over his takeout bag. “Ah, shit!” Her laughter drifts over the top of the car to him as lightning lights up the parking lot. His shirt is soaked. “There you go!”
They flop into their seats together. Jin winces as he thinks of his dripping wet shirt sticking to his seats, and her rain jacket, shit. But he doesn’t say anything - he can’t, not when he’s also soaked head to toe. Yuna is giggling breathlessly as she adjusts in her seat, gesturing for his bag and placing it on the floor between her feet while holding her own in her lap. The car comes to life with a low, vibrating hum, and Yuna eyes the dashboard as it lights up.
“Fancy,” she comments, “reminds me of a spaceship.” Jin rolls his eyes hard, groaning when he sees that the backup camera is so blurred by rain it’s basically useless.
“Everyone says that,” he replies, twisting around and placing one hand on the back of her seat to watch behind him as he backs out. The front of his shirt is slowly dampening against his chest as water drips off his hair and runs down his neck. “You, Namjoon, Eomma, Appa. Everyone.”
“Because it’s true,” she snickers, gliding one finger along the interior of the door. “How is Namjoon, by the way? And Taehyung?”
“Joon’s doing well,” Jin says, shifting the car into drive and fastening his seatbelt before pulling out of the parking lot. “Left or right?”
“Left. Is he teaching, like he wanted to?”
“Yeah, he’s got a teaching job at a school a bit outside the city. As far as I can tell he’s enjoying it a lot. Taehyung is...well, he’s doing Taehyung things.”
“Which is?”
“Mostly good. Left or right?”
“Right,” she instructs. “I’m glad to hear they’re doing okay. I think Namjoon follows me on Instagram, I see him like all my posts.”
“He said he did,” Jin chuckles.
“You aren’t on Instagram, right?”
“Not really. I have one, but I never use it.” He ticks the windshield wiper speed up. “Pretty sure my profile picture is still just the default blank.” She smiles to herself - that sounds just like him.
“And you?” Yuna asks, looking at him as he drives. “How’s Seokjin doing?” His plump lips grin a little and his eyes do a full cycle between the dashboard, rear view, her, and driver’s side mirror.
“Seokjin’s doing fine,” he replies. “A little wet, though.”
“A little?” She snorts. “I’m sorry about the seats, by the way. I hope these aren’t real leather.”
“They aren’t,” he assures her, and she feigns relief. Lying to avoid making her feel guilty also sounds just like him. “Are we close?”
Yuna leans against the window and spots Hobi’s humble apartment building cozied between the lower-lying buildings around it, and then leans towards the dashboard to point it out to her driver.
“Oh, Hobi lives here?” Jin wonders aloud, leaning over the wheel to squint through the rain. “Where’s he moving to?”
“Somewhere a little closer to the city. I haven’t seen the new apartment yet.” The eldest Kim brother nods after a moment in approval - the action reminds her vaguely of his father - then sidles the car right up to the sidewalk in front of the building, pulling it into park. “Can I give you gas money or something?”
“No way,” he laughs. “You want to tip me for driving you a few minutes down the road?”
Yuna rolls her eyes at him as she unbuckles her seatbelt and wraps one arm around her bag. “I know you like driving, but I figured I’d offer anyway.” Though, judging by his suit, he likely doesn’t need her pocket change to pay for gas anyway. “Thank you, though.” She hesitates, looking at him, feeling his eyes staring at her again, and then leans over the center console to offer a polite hug.
He returns it, albeit hesitantly. His touch is light and cautious, not really a proper hug. She understands, and doesn’t linger.
“It’s so nice to see you again, Jin,” Yuna says, one hand on the door handle. “Let’s meet up properly sometime soon, okay?”
“I’d love to,” he replies, nodding. “Do you want my number or something? So we can...?” he trails off and shrugs, extending his phone towards her.
“Oh! That’s smart,” she giggles. “Yeah, hold on.” She fishes her own phone out of her pocket and unlocks it before handing it to him. His Samsung is sleek and doesn’t have a case on it, which is stress inducing, but Kim Seokjin is not nearly as clumsy or prone to dropping things as his younger brother Namjoon is.
🌈Yuna✈has been added to your contacts list.
“All set?” Jin asks, holding her phone back out to her. Why the plane emoji?
“No contact name?” Yuna snickers. “Do I get to choose?” He shrugs.
“You’ll know it’s me either way,” he replies.
He’s right.
She says goodbye and then clambers out of his car back into the rain, waiting for a brief moment before scurrying back into the lobby. Wiping her wet shoes on the rug, she trudges to the elevator, and hits the button for the fourth floor.
KSJ has been added to your contacts list.
“Tae, send me the address, I’m on my way,” Jin says into his phone. Taehyung’s voice crackles over the speakers, filling up the car at once.
“Yeah, okay. Just a sec.” A message appears across the top of his screen, a long address, and when he enters it into Google Maps it’s nearly half an hour away. “Got it?”
“Yeah. Be there soon, okay?”
Instead of a response, he gets the dull triple beep that tells him he’s been hung up on. The call screen vanishes and brings him back to the last open page, his contacts, where Yuna’s name is sitting at the bottom of the list.
But he had given her a nickname, once, hadn’t he?
Jin taps her contact and goes in to edit it, smiling to himself as he props his phone back up on the dashboard and shifts into drive to pull away from the curb. He hasn’t felt this happy in a long, long time.
🌈Yunnie✈has been added to your contacts list.
#a map of mrs kims#amomk#aurelius and amomk#bts#bts jin#kim seokjin#seokjin fanfiction#bts fic#kim line#bangtan#bts x oc#jin x oc#inspired by other original works!
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Share us your fics ideas please!!
I have sooooooooo many! (Also sorry it took me so long to answer this I didn't see my inbox)
I'm in so many fandoms and my brain is always thinking of found family or hurt comfort or fluff so it tends to all ruminate in my brain.
1-A Wildcards - a Persona x MHA crossover fic. I've started writing this one and it's in the works but the basic idea is, "what if ever persona protag is under one roof and all siblings and all are in school at the mha world." I have chapters and plans but it's hard to get fic motivation on this one at the moment. One of my theories also turned out right for MHA lore and I can't explain why but having my own theory proven right really took the wind out of my sails. XD
2. ff7 what if au - basically there's a theory me and a bunch of ppl online share where president Shinra has a bunch of bastard children and basically my fic idea is, "what if the bastards all grow up under one roof." So I'm currently doing research on characterizations for it. It's difficult for me to nail down Cloud's, Rufus', Evan's, and Lazard's personalities. I love Au's where ppl are brothers or grow up together. I don't have any plans for this other then the kids somehow help Genesis, Angeal, and Sephiroth not go insane but I can't figure out how I want to do that.
3. Simon Petrikov: Fionna and Cake Adventure Time drabbles - basically wanted to continue where Fionna and Cake leaves off and put Simon in the trauma cube where he gets to heal from his past. I also am a sucker when Trauma is blasted in 4k for everyone to see so the entire crew that cares for Simon also gets the trauma beam. I also realized Simon and Betty were never married so I decided that must be changed and wrote them a wedding. :)
4. Gohan's Wheel of Emotions - Another fic idea I've had for a few years now. I want to do a series where basically some kind of xyz machine goes wrong and Gohan gets split into a bunch of pieces and it becomes a race against time to put him back together. I was planning for his emotions to be wondering around. I want this to be teen era Gohan too because I'm a huge sucker for the Saiyaman ark. It's again just hard to find time to write it! I just want to write a cheezy little light hearted kind of self healing story.
5. TMNT turtle tot au - just a fun multicrossover baby adoption event. I'm currently writing this and have almost 2 chapters done! I love the idea of the 2003 turtles having a bunch of different aged turtles showing up at their doorstep. So they have to juggle sending everyone home while doing their best not to adopt anyone (spoiler alert the kids adopt THEM)
6. TMNT a KH/Tsubasa inspired story - I don't want to share too much on this plot but if you know about Kingdom Heart and Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicles then you can get the idea of what if might be about. :)
7. TMNT brainrot drabble - currently working on this one but it's an 87 drabble fic that was inspired by season 5's finale. but now that I'm writing it (it's almost to 10k now) I REALLY want to have it go past the show finale too because MAN the last seasons of 87 are GREAT angst potential. I'm a huge sucker for hurt comfort and this entire fic is kind of like hurt comfort lite.
8. Hetalia - I have so much brain rot for Hetalia but I find it surprisingly hard to write for. I want to do a bunch of silly Hetalia fics about America and his super strength. I love that little idiot because he's MY adorable little idiot. The show is also just so cute and funny it is a big guilty pleasure of mine.
9. Lout of Count Family / LCF stupid idea - basically what if Cale Henituse can sing but he only sings the silliest dumbest songs ever in the history of Rowoon. That's it that's the fic.
10. I have a silly idea for a big multicrossover between all the korean light novels i've read and various manhwa and danmei novels. Like, "What if all systems have a chat function and it connects you to other system users." So it would just be a casual chatfic comedy.
That's most the of the ones I could think of! :P
#fanfic#ideas#fanfic writing#brainrot#au ideas#fluff ideas#found family au#siblings au#crossover ideas#silly ideas
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airport love confession w steve for drabbles?? like reader is about to get on a plane and leave and steve is racing through the airport to get to her in time and tell her how he feels🥺
Wherever You Stray
yesyesyes STEVE!!!!! 🥺
》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《
You could see why all the poems of unrequited love wrote it so painfully. Why they had described it as hearts being torn from chests and air being pulled from your lungs.
Steve Rogers had taken a piece of your heart and you couldn’t bare to watch him take it all the way back to the 1940s with him. Back to her.
You swallow thickly at the thought. When Steve had mentioned seeing Peggy when he and Tony had ended up on that army base, it was like you physically saw him slip through your fingertips.
It was your fault though, wasn’t it? Falling in love with Steve when half the population had been wiped away and the only thought anybody had was finding a new normal. Falling in love with him and never telling him, never explaining how his voice was your calm and his presence made your panic subside.
Would it have changed anything though? You think as you stare at the airport gate. Airports were crowded these days, families trying to find their way home and people trying to find their loved ones again. No. You know it wouldn’t have.
Steve had loved one woman in all his life and they had created a way to bring him back to her. A way to give him the life he desperately craved.
You wipe away the stray tear that’s fallen in the midst of your consuming of these thoughts. Your phone has texts from Sam, Bruce and even Clint, all urging you to tell him.
You wonder what they had told Steve about your absence. If they had told him the truth or if they had made up a pretty lie that calmed his nerves about one of his best friends disappearing before he went back in time.
“Now boarding fight 579 to San Diego.” A voice calls over the speaker. You take a deep breath as you stand. A fresh start sounded nice. The beach and palm trees seemed like the perfect place.
As you fall in line behind most of the other passengers you begin to wonder Steve had ever felt anything for you. If he hadn’t been forced to that army base if he would have stayed.
“Hey!” You ignore the voice, assuming it’s for another passenger as you wallow in your thoughts. “Excuse me. Sorry. I’m not cutting you, I’m trying to-“
“-Is that Captain America?” A voice calls out and your head snaps up to investigate it.
Steve is hastily pushing through the crowd of passengers. Steve in his ridiculous time travel outfit and still the same young Steve you had seen that morning.
“Just Steve Rogers.” He answers politely. His height gives him an advantage as he freezes in the middle of the crowd and his eyes scan in search of you.
You can only stare with wide eyes until the woman behind you shoves your shoulder lightly and you’re forced to move forward. “Go!” She groans.
You move forward on autopilot, completely baffled by Steve’s appearance and unable to do anything but follow the line. You can feel when Steve’s eyes land on you. His intense stare burning through your head as you continue to move up in line.
Three people in front of you. You glance over your shoulder and find Steve pushing through the crowd again.
Two people in front of you. His eyes are determined and don’t move from you. You feel heat on your cheeks and the back of your neck as he stares.
One person. Steve is only a few feet away. He smiles at kids who stare up in awe and politely nods in greeting to the people calling out Captain America.
“Ma’am?” Your head snaps to look at the woman in front of you. She’s wearing a confused smile as she waits for you to step forward. “Your ticket?”
A hand wraps around your wrist and pulls you off of the line. Your eyes move from his chest to his face and you can only stare with your mouth agape.
“What the hell are you doing?” He asks completely exasperated.
“What… What are you doing here?” They’re the only words you can get out as you stare at him absolutely perplexed.
He was supposed to be getting that dance with Peggy Carter. Why was he standing in the middle of JFK with you?
“Why are you leaving?” He asks softly. “I… You weren’t there when we all met at the time machine.”What a ridiculous name, you think. Time machine seemed far too simple for what Tony had created.
“I… Why are you here?” You ask again. “I thought you were going back in time.”
Steve furrows his eyebrows at you. Your fingers twitch, wanting to reach up and smooth out the lines on his forehead like you had for so many years when it was just you and him. You try to force back your tears.
“I did.” He says slowly. “To put the stones back. I went looking for you afterwards and Bucky said you were on a plane. What the hell? Why would leave without a goodbye?” You open your mouth and he shakes his head. “Why would you leave?”
You lick your lips nervously. “Last boarding call for flight 579 to San Diego, California.” You turn to look at the now almost empty gate. There were only a few more people left in line to board. “Steve that’s my-“
“-Why are you leaving?” He asks again. His voice is firmer this time. “I…” He trails off.
You shake your head. “You said… I thought you were staying with Peggy.” You whisper. Your head is spinning and you’re unable to connect the dots. Why was Steve here? Why had he chased after you?
“Staying with…” His hands come up to cup your cheeks. “Why would I stay with Peggy?”
You pull one of his hands away from your face and narrow your eyes. “You said… You said you saw her when you and Tony were on that base. That you saw her and you finally realized what you had to do.”
Steve’s shaking his head before you even finish. There’s a smile on his face that you can’t return because he’s leaning in and kissing you.
Steve is kissing you. Steve is… Your eyes widen before they close and you’re kissing him back. Your hands come up to rest on his chest and one of his grips your hip.
When he pulls away he doesn’t go far. Close enough he can speak in a whisper. “It made me realize I’ve moved on. That I have a life here. With Sam. Bucky. You.” He emphasizes. “A life with you where instead of dancing you take me to movies in the park and show me how to use IPhones.”
“You know how to use your phone.” You shake your head with a short laugh. “What are you saying?” You think you know by now, the confused fog clearing from your head, but you’d like to hear the words.
“I love you.” He smiles. “Not Peggy. She had her life. She lived it. She told me to live mine and I want to. With you.”
“With me?” You ask a little breathlessly. Steve nods and a smile breaks out on your face. “I love you too.”
Steve lets out a sigh of relief that makes you giggle. “No California?” He glances up at the now closed door. Boarding for the flight finishing while you were busy swapping I love yous.
You nod. “Not unless we’re going together.”
“I could use a vacation.” Steve slips your bag from your shoulder and move it onto his. When he wraps an arm around your shoulder, you return it with one around his waist and he begins to guide you towards the exit. “Especially one with my favorite person.”
》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《
okokok this was my first time writing steve i hope you liked it!! i love the airport love confession trope! thank you for sending this in 🥰
#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers#stever rogers drabble#steve rogers imagine#steve rogers x you#steve rogers x y/n
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ana’s bnha x reader masterlist
first updated 11.17.20
last updated 07.13.21
desktop version found here
bkdk masterlist: desktop | mobile
fics [38]
drabbles [13]
Thanks for dropping by! I want to note that I no longer write x reader and instead am writing bakudeku shipfic. So! By all means, read, like, comment on my fics here! But I can't recommend that you follow me unless you like bakudeku. Hope you enjoy your time here regardless! <3
legend:
character x character
Title w/ link | [rating] | word count | genre
Synopsis
ratings are bracketed: e.g. [g], [t], [m], [e]
[g] - appropriate for general audiences
[t] - appropriate for audiences 13+
[m] - contains non-graphic adult themes
[e] - explicit, 18+ readers only
🌸 = personal faves
characters x reader: no ship (1), aizawa (2), bakugou (12), endeavor (1), iida (2), kaminari (1), kirishima (4), midoriya (7), shinsou (2), todoroki (19)
Everything is in alphabetical order <3
no ship
2020 Election Night Comfort | [g] | 0.6k | hurt/comfort
The results are in and your class is all with you as you process the results
aizawa x reader
Stress Relief | [e] | 3k | smut
There's a new regulation that forces you to take an extra class before you can graduate college. When you learn that Eraserhead is teaching the class, you’re a little more interested.
2020 Election Night Comfort | [g] | 0.6k | hurt/comfort
Aizawa reminds that you were prepared for this and, together, you can handle it.
bakugou x reader
Can’t Find My Breath | [e] | 4.2k | smut 🌸
At the beginning of the day, Ground Zero was just another hero you wrote articles about. Now it’s nighttime and you’ve just left a bar together. Companion to The Rest with No Sound
Christmas Cold | [g] | 1k | fluff
You and Katsuki manage to make it to your parents' house for the holidays, but you've come down with a little cold.
Doing Something Right | [e] | 1.8k | smut
You’re pregnant and happily enjoying domestic bliss when Katsuki comes in, unable to resist you.
Frustration | [e] | 3.1k | smut
request. After a long day of work, Katsuki comes home frustrated and you, suffering from a different kind of frustration yourself, know exactly what will help you both.
Gorgeous | [e] | 1.5k | smut, hurt/comfort
ask. When you have a negative response to Katsuki touching you in a moment of insecurity, he intends to do whatever he can to alleviate your fears.
version 1: petite reader
version 2: curvy reader
Magic | [e] | 2.2k | smut
request. Katsuki comes home early and catches you...taking care of yourself.
Miniskirts | [e] | 0.8k | smut 🌸
After a long day, Katsuki takes a shower and his thoughts turn to you.
On the Job | [e] | 4.5k | smut 🌸
Super human society has a secret. Aphrodisiac quirks aren’t just of porn and fantasy--they’re common and too often fall into the wrong hands. When heroes get hit, someone has to be able to activate the quirk’s release condition. If they’re single, who might that someone be?
You.
The Rest with No Sound | [t] | 8.5k | slow burn, fluff 🌸
Bakugou thinks that people who wake up not remembering where they are are idiots. This is confirmed when it happens to him, head aching from a night of drinking. Idiot. But when he looks over, and sees you there, he realizes he doesn’t remember anything. So he has to gather the scattered pieces from the day before to figure out exactly how he ended up with you. Companion to Can’t Find My Breath
Stay | [g] | 2.2k | hurt/comfort 🌸
ask. The last thing you want to do on a rough day is worry Bakugou with your problems. So you try to hide it. You should have known better.
Steamy | [e] | 2.7k | smut
request. You're a pro hero, rising in the ranks and, happy though he is for you, Katsuki's old jealousy begins to roil. After you've been paraded around all evening as one of Japan's finest, Katsuki finds himself feeling more than a little possessive, and can't help himself from taking you as his.
Steel and Lace | [e] | 3.8k | smut
The only one who manages to get Bakugou’s birthday right is you.
endeavor x reader
When the Smoke Clears | [e] | 17.4k | slow burn, smut
Soulmate AU. After his battle with Hawks against Hood, Endeavor wakes up in the hospital to find that a young doctor saved his life, their quirk being able to counteract the negative effects of his own. His first thought is that he has to talk to you–you might be able to fix the drawbacks of his quirk. His second thought is oh no, not again.
iida x reader
Broken Glass | [g] | 1.8k | fluff, mild comfort
request. In a quirk-related accident you find yourself surrounded by shattered glass. Worst of all, most of that glass is from every single pair of your boyfriend’s glasses.
Flotsam, Jetsam, Lagan, and Derelict | [g] | 1.5k | hurt/comfort
ask. Trying to hide a panic attack from your boyfriend isn’t easy when he’s right next to you. But you’re determined to suffer alone.
kaminari x reader
2020 Election Night Comfort | [g] | 0.4k | hurt/comfort
You share your unsteady hope with Kaminari.
kirishima x reader
Silhouette | [e] | 1.8k | smut, hurt/comfort
ask. Before a gala, you’re stuck in the mirror, caught on all your old body insecurities. Kiri comes in and loves you regardless.
version 1: petite reader
version 2: curvy reader
We’ll See | [g] | 6.3k | gen, light romance 🌸
demisexual!Reader. After a fateful meeting, you and Kirishima keep running into each other. And although he’s so nice, you fear the fact that he might be interested in you. Even though all you want is, for once, to let yourself be happy and maybe fall in love, you can’t seem to be able to.
What We Look For | [t] | 15.5 | slow burn
Last time, you and Kirishima became friends—nothing more, nothing less. The idea of being something more sounds nice. But you can’t. You just can’t. So you won’t. Whatever happens will be on your own terms. Sequel to We'll See
2020 Election Night Comfort | [g] | 0.4k | hurt/comfort
Kirishima freaks out while you experience a numb calm. You meet in the middle.
midoriya x reader
Bad Days | [g] | 1.4k | hurt/comfort
Izuku helps you get out of bed.
Sunlight | [e] | 2.1k | smut 🌸
request. An early afternoon in bed with your husband, Izuku.
Surprised, Just Once | [e] | 5k | smut
request. You were planning on just another predictable night out with the girls. What you got was much, much more.
2020 Election Night Comfort | [g] | 0.3k | hurt/comfort
Izuku holds you close while you watch the results.
Multiple unrelated oneshots with Deku with an s/o with an eating disorder | ask
Gratitude | [t] | 1.4k | hurt/comfort
After having been with Izuku a while, you’re suffering a relapse and he helps you through with some gratitude practices on date night.
Picnic | [t] | 1.8k | hurt/comfort
Izuku surprises you with a picnic on your second date, much to your horror.
A Start | [t] | 1.2k | hurt/comfort 🌸
You ask Izuku for help when you realize you need it.
Trust Yourself | [t] | 2.3k | hurt/comfort
Shortly after moving in together, Izuku learns of your struggles and tries his best to comfort and encourage you.
shinsou x reader
Passing the Night Stars | [g] | 3.2k | hurt/comfort
The party was neon and you needed darkness.
2020 Election Night Comfort | [g] | 0.4k | hurt/comfort
Shinsou helps you prioritize yourself.
todoroki x reader
All Dressed Up | [e] | 4.6k | smut 🌸
quarantine fic. It’s been months since you’ve dressed up, felt pretty, and felt seen by anyone. Your husband’s birthday is a perfect excuse to get all dressed up. And then take it right off.
All the Wasted Time | [e] | 3.2k | smut, fluff
Three months ago, you’d been ripped from Shouto’s side with something less than a love confession, something more than a show of feelings. Now that you’re back, you’re eager to make up for lost time. Siberia sequel, First Snow prequel
Bad Days | [g] | 0.9k | hurt/comfort 🌸
Shouto comforts you when your demons arrive unexpectedly.
First Snow | [g] | 2.2k | fluff
A year after the events in Siberia, you and Shouto are happily together, and it’s the first snow of the year. Siberia and All the Wasted Time sequel
On the Job | [e] | 3.4k | smut 🌸
Super human society has a secret. Aphrodisiac quirks aren’t just of porn and fantasy--they’re common and too often fall into the wrong hands. When heroes get hit, someone has to be able to activate the quirk’s release condition. If they’re single, who might that someone be?
You. Sequel to On the Job (Bakugou); can be read alone
Siberia | [e] | 13.8k | pining/angst, smut, fluff 🌸
On the field, you and Todoroki are rising stars amongst hero pairings. Off the field…you’re kind of in love with him. After a successful capture, you’re boss brings you in to let you know you’re being sent on assignment in foreign country…alone. Before you leave, you have to act. You’re not partners anymore, after all. And with a little liquid courage you do. Then, the next morning, you still have to leave. All the Wasted Time and First Snow prequel.
Worth it | [t] | 0.3k | gen
The morning after with your boyfriend, Shouto.
2021 Election Night Comfort | [g] | 0.5k | hurt/comfort
The stress of election day comes back swiftly during the Georgia runoff and Todoroki’s quick to notice.
all works below are within the world of the a spare heart series:
A series about a fem, American reader who had to transfer to U.A. partway through second year. You’re there to become a hero, that much is obvious, but why else did you come? And, more importantly, what—or who—makes you stay?
timeline
may, year two:
- reader finishes junior year of American high school early
- reader transfers to u.a. from the united states
The Meeting | [g] | 0.1k | gen
Reader meets Tokoyami for the first time. Sequel to first impressions from my wip list
Hollow Victory | [g] | 9.6k | gen, action
chapter 1 | chapter 2
You transferred to U.A. from America two weeks ago. No one has found out your quirk yet. Today, they’re going be meeting it head on and you have the advantage: surprise.
june, year two:
Illiterate | [g] | 2.1k | fluff, comfort
Being unable to read Japanese makes you feel so stupid. And who comes into the common room after midnight just as you’re about to cry? The boy who hasn’t spoken to you in three weeks.
sequels
The Offering | [g] | 0.4k | fluff, gen.
The Mission (Shouto POV) | [g] | 0.3k | fluff, gen., silly
september, year two:
Impetus | [g] | 2.1k | friendship
Ever since Shinsou found out what your quirk was, the two of you have been each other’s best friends and confidantes. But when he turns a casual training session into a tease over your supposed crush on someone in your class, that trust might just break.
january, year two:
This Clock Never Seemed So Alive | [g] | 1.2k | fluff, comfort
You and your boyfriend, Shouto, always walk to class together, but today you haven’t yet left your dorm. When he checks on you, he finds you awake, but curled on your side, suffering from period cramps.
sequels
The Questions (drabble) | [g] | 0.1k | gen.
The Sweetness (double drabble) | [g] | 0.2k | fluff, comfort
february, year three:
Between Fear and Guilt | [t] | 2.5k | light angst, comfort
You and Shouto only started being intimate a couple months back, but you’re already experiencing a dry spell. Today you’re going to figure out what’s up with your boyfriend once and for all.
fifteen years after graduation
Something Perfect | [e] | 3.7k | smut, fluff
After years of questioning if Shouto would ever want children, he’s finally decided that he really does. Overjoyed, the two of you decide to get started.
#bnha x reader#mha x reader#bnha#mha#todoroki x reader#bakugou x reader#bakugo x reader#deku x reader#iida x reader#ida x reader#kirishima x reader#aizawa x reader#shinsou x reader#endeavor x reader
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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
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Getting Railed By Your Jealous Bf Ushijima After He Meets Your Childhood Ex (Who Wants You Back!)📱📞
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Birthday Event Req By @juminly :
So I was trying to request the following >.<: a NSFW Ushi drabble with f!reader. Ushi being triggered by jealousy or something that happened between f!reader and someone else? I initially wrote a few kinks and you could go ahead with whatever inspires you! [cockwarming, face-sitting, blowjob, mirror sex, bondage, dirty talk or anything else tbh... and soft!dom!ushi]
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A/N: I’m glad we overcame the technical difficulties for you to eventually send this req. hope you like it babes. I still have 2 more reqs from the event that shouldn’t take too long, thanks for being patient!
(NSFW 18+)
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Getting Railed By Your Jealous Bf Ushijima After He Meets Your Childhood Ex (Who Wants You Back!)📱📞
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Sooooooooo
It’s canon that Ushi is a very calm and collected bf
Your friends love him 💕
Your pet loved him 💕
And your family loves him
Or that’s what Ushi always thought...... until tonight.
You and Toshi went to your parents house for an elegant middle aged people dinner party they were throwing with all their friends from the neighborhood
Ushijima wore a suit and everything 💜💜💜 you wore in a beautiful green dress and small heels to match him
CUTIES
The dinner party was great: 🎶 classy , bougie, ratchet extremely classy haha 💎
Until.......
your parent’s best friends’ son—Jeremy—happened to be home too.
Actually , he surprised everyone, crashing the party unexpectedly
And he brought gifts🤨.
Making a huge entrance that had everyone screaming in delight and hugging him, Ushijima couldn’t help but feel a little jealous of the way your family fawned over your childhood friend
Your parents can’t help but gush over Jeremy, because they’ve always wanted you to marry him and move with him to America to study cosmetic surgery
In high school you two dated a little, but then you realized it was all for the benefit of your parents and you agreed to break up but remained distant friends
You were good with that , as you thought it was a mutual decision
But it wasn’t. Jeremy truly had feelings for you and they hadn’t stopped just because he moved away and finished med school
“These are for you, Y/N.” Jeremy smoothly handed you a bouquet of your favourite type of flowers
You hadn’t the heart to tell him your favourite type had changed since high school :S
“And Wakatoshi-san, I didn’t know you would be here. Apologies.” He shook his hand.
Ushijima’s face was hard. “I don’t know why I would not be.....?” He answered with a slight eyebrow raise, squeezing Jeremy’s hand right back.
Hose down that fire Y/N
Anyway, even though your parents like Ushi a lot, it was pretty obvious to you AND your boyfriend that both them + Jeremy’s parents never gave up hope that you two would one day get back together
Not to mention They were as subtle as elephants in a library
They got the fucking photo album, showing everyone including Ushijima pictures of you and Jeremy bathing together as babies and kissing before prom
SMFH!
“Oh, you live in Beverly Hills, now?” Your mom’s eyes sparkled at Jeremy as he showed her pictures of his mansion on his phone. “Y/N looooves that part of Los Angeles, don’t you, honey?”
You noticed Ushijima stiffen. He was thinking about the love of his life, you, living in LA in Jeremy’s ugly mansion and it pissed this Ace off.
You nodded slowly, giving your mom a warning glance. “Sure, when I was 15.”
“Hey Jeremy, your father told me last weekend that you know of bunch of players on the LA Rams?”
Jeremy nodded proudly. “Yes sir. A lot of their wives and mothers are patients of mine, so the starting line up usually sends me Christmas cards with season passes and signed memorabilia so that I up their women on the waiting lists. Whenever you’re in America and you’d like to go see a game, just let me know.”
You rolled your eyes at how loud your father exclaimed in joy. “I keep telling you to call me YF/N!” He clapped. “And that’s a real sport right there. Football, Baseball, Soccer. Everything else is a joke to real men.” Your father finished.
“DAD!” You chastised, stomping your foot under the table.
“What—?”
You glowered are him. “In case you FORGOT.....Ushijima happens to be a professional volleyball player.”
Your dad had clearly forgotten, trying to blubber out an apology. Ushijima interrupted him, putting a hand on yours to settle his furious girlfriend.
“That’s quite alright, sir. I took no offence to it.” Ushi was used to other men not recognizing volleyball as a manly sport—he is very confident so that didn’t bother him. Rather, what stung was the fact that your father had never asked Toshi to call him by his first name before, and you two had been dating for three years.
To your dismay, Yours and Jeremys parents continued to say annoying shit like that all night
Jeremy loved it 🙄
You hated it, and defended your man at any chance you got
Ushijima stayed silent through it all, trying to calm you down actually.
Like I said he’s confident and not easily shaken
He only had had enough when the conversation changed to Jeremy’s explanation of liking his life and his career but it all never seeming good enough because of “the one that got away” and how “she seems happy in a relationship now” but “he would do anything to get her back”
Meanwhile he’s sneaking heartfelt glances at you 🤬🤬🤬🤢
Your mother and father were doting, looking at you and eachother as if to say “come onnnnn Y/N give him another chance”
Ushijima picked up on it all.
At one point during Jeremy’s explanation of ‘the one that got away’ you stuck your finger down your throat to make a gagging noise childishly
YOUR PARENTS WERE NOT HAPPY LMAO
anyway, at the end of the night you said bye to everyone..... and Jeremy asked to speak to you in private on the empty porch
Ushijima watched with a locked jaw by the car, leaning on it so he could stare openly
He was justly heated as he watched the conversation (but couldn’t hear anything) happening on the porch at night
He witnessed Jeremy write down what had to be his number and hold it in front of you for you to take
You hesitated, not sure if you should take it just to avoid causing more waves with both parents or to stomp on his foot
Luckily you didn’t need to do either because Ushijima had silently stormed over in a millisecond, whisking the paper from Jeremy’s hand, staring at his number written on the paper before crumbling it and throwing it over his shoulder.
“She doesn’t need it. Goodnight, Jeremy.”
Ushi grabbed your hand and walked you to the car angry af, you had to jog in your heels to keep up with him
This man was maaad and silent the whole way home, thinking about how everyone seems to be so sure that your ex could have given you a better life
He still held your hand the entire drive though, so clearly he wasn’t mad at you ❤️
He hated that everyone liked this Jeremy better all because he went down the conventional path to success:
Hadn’t Toshi paid for everything? Hadn’t Toshi massaged your feet? Hadn’t Toshi made you extremely happy? Hadn’t they seen how you were treated? Did you believe someone could do better?
Nonsense.
Toshi knew that he was the BEST boy and that no one could dare love you more or treat you better....... and you tended to agree
But Toshi needed to hear you say it.
He needed to feel it, too.
Upon arriving at yours & Toshi’s gorgeous modern home:
Toshi hurriedly closed the door
you hadn’t even fully taken off your heels yet when you felt your boyfriend pressed himself against you from behind, lifting your dress up and rubbing his long hard cock print on your pantied pussy lips as you bent over
You moaned and started to get wet immediately
“Take off the panties.” He ordered.
you did obviously 😭 almost tripped with how fast you did it
Horny bish lol
Your boyfriend then picked you up in his strong arms and walked a few steps into the foyer, placing you so your ass was sitting on the 7th marble stair. He knelt down in between your legs and spread them while you sat on the staircase
He squeezed your ass in his large hands and dove into your pussy with his lips then tongue, immediately skipping the gentle licks... and tongue fucking your entrance into oblivion
His tongue was wet, strong and needy and fuck you choked on your own cries
You threw your head back, already screaming Ushi’s name
“Mmm scream my name just like that. Let everyone hear who you belong to.” He paused tongue fucking you to order.
you shuddered as you felt his warm breath on your clit and Ushi expertly enclosed his mouth around your sopping cunt, French kissing your clit into his mouth and sucking on it like a tiny lollipop
You tugged on his hair and screamed his name louder, feeling your interior walls clench
Once your legs started shaking because you were about to fall over the edge, Ushi picked you up again, making you wrap your legs around his waist
Toshi bent down quickly to empty his pockets which consisted of his keys, wallet, and his phone, placing it where you were just sitting when he was eating you out
Ushiwaka pressed your back against the wall beside the staircase.....
He held your entire body weight with one arm as he leaned in to kiss your neck, using his other hand to unbuckle his belt and kick his pants off
When he was freed & nude, he asked you kindly if you were ready and once you nodded he put one of his feet on the sixth stair, the other on the fifth, then thrusted deep into your soaking heat
He wasted no time in pounding you into the wall, the slight pain of the hard wall and your boyfriend’s hard dick somehow heightening the pleasure factor
Ushijima took both of your wrists in his gigantic hand and locked them above your head as he gave you nice and deep thrusts the way you both like it
“So fucking wet. All because of me, correct? I’m the only one who makes your pussy drip like this.”
Your pussy answered:💧 💧💧💧💧💧💧💧
Your vaginal walls squeezed around his dick and you bit his shoulder because the pleasure disallowed you to speak and Ushi groaned out
“Say. This. Tight. Pussy. Is. Mine.” He grunted as he circled his hips a bit while pounding, his voice grave.
Toshi picked up the pace as your soaking wet walls clenched around him even more from his dirty talk.
“Say. Who. This. Pussy. Belongs. To. Beautiful.”
You were being fucked too well, you couldn’t speak, you could only moan ... like usual
But your boyfriend wasn’t having any of that tonight.
He let go of your captive wrists and held you with both hands again, stepping downstairs and stopping in front of the large mirror in your foyer, turning so that only you could see yourself poking over his large shoulder, along with your boyfriend’s fine juicy ass and back calf muscles 🤤
Ushi grabbed the back of your neck (not enough to hurt) but just enough so that your head was up and you were looking at yourself in the mirror. He began to fuck you again, getting nice and deep in your pussy as he made you bounce on his dick in his arms
“Are you seeing yourself?” He laughed sexily. “Getting dumb-fucked, Princess? Whose dick are you taking, Y/N?” Wakatoshi groaned as your pussy clenched around him even more. He could tell you were about to cum and that he wouldn’t be long after. But he needed to hear you say something first.
“Who is your first choice, Y/N? Who fucks you like this every night? Who’s dick can you never get enough of? Me? Or Him?”
In your stupor, you watched yourself in the mirror: Toshi’s delectable ass flexing as he pushed in and out of you, feeling his strong hand gripping your neck. You weren’t a big talker during sex and bae knew that, but the amazing feeling of this angry jealous sex was too much, his big dick felt too fucking good..... and one particularly hard thrust from him that grazed your g-spot in the besssst way gave you the energy to cry out;
“YOU, TOSH. FUCK THAT JEREMY, HE COULD NEVER FUCK ME LIKE YOU DO. OR TAKE CARE OF ME LIKE YOU DO. I DON’T WANT OR NEED ANYONE ELSE BUT YOU. YOU’RE THE BEST BOY WITH THE BEST DICK. NO ONE CAN EVEN C-COME CLOSE TO YOU. YOU —OH, OH, OH MY GOD, I’M GONNA—“
Wakatoshi let go of your neck, landing soft kisses on your neck while he returned to gripping your ass with both hands now, sliding you up and down his long, hard, soaking wet dick from your juices.
It felt so fucking good 😩
“That’s right princess. I’ve heard enough, baby. I knew it: I just needed to hear you say it. Now cum for me.”
when you did, you made sure to scream out all the praises you always told toshi when you weren’t getting fucked, making him feel like a King, reassuring him that your mind, body, and soul belonged to him and NO ONE else.
Wakatoshi found his release soon after from your pussy but also from your words, shooting his thick cum up inside you for you to take as he caressed your back and whispered how much he loved you in your ear.
Then, as you laid limp in his arms, he left his cock to stay warm inside you and went back to the stairs, fully prepared to go head up and bathe you, then put you to bed.
But as he passed the sixth step, though, Toshi bent down to pick up his keys, wallet and phone that he’d set there.
As you fell asleep on his shoulder, Ushi grinned at his phone screen, pressing send to the voicemail message he’d just recorded.
Whoops 😏 must have accidentally butt-dialed someone before fucking you and left a long message by accident
😕ohno😕
With a photographic memory, it wasn’t difficult for the Ace to remember such a plastic surgeon’s phone number when Ushi saw it on the note.....
And Toshi could explain to you how sorry he was that he’d accidentally dialed it before railing you to sleep on the stairs and in the foyer
But truth be told, your boyfriend’s only real regret would be not being able to see the look on Jeremy’s face when he listened to it on his flight back home.
Bday Event Masterlist
#aone and ushijima birthday event#ushijima smut#wakatoshi smut#ushiwaka x reader#ushiwaka x y/n#ushiwaka x you#haikyuu boys#haikyuu!!#sexy hq boys#haikyuu stories#hq headcanons#haikyu headcannons#haikyuu imagines#hq sexy stories
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could write ❛ I never wrote, I never care. ❜ ❛ I never think about anyone. ❜ with reader x shinsou pleases
never say never // shinsou hitoshi
length: 3.1k
a/n: I’m so sorry this took so long but it truly got away from me and kinda turned it longer than a simple Drabble. Hope you like it! I had to change the wording a bit but i hope you still like it!
Seeing him was like getting your hopes up just to have them crashing down again. It was like seeing the sun for the first time in years just to have it blind you. He made your heart soar by just the sight of him only to have your heart ache with heartbreak and loneliness.
Your relationship with Shinsou Hitoshi was complicated, to say the least.
There was a time where it wouldn’t be a question for you to run into his arms with a smile. When you lit up at the sight of him and comforted in his presence. But now?
Now it was hard to look at him.
You hoped that the universe would take pity on you and let you escape from his eyesight because talking with him was something you weren’t ready for. But before you could even duck behind the rows of flowers, he caught sight of you.
“Y/N?”
You grimaced inside but you were unable to just turn away from him. You turned towards him instead, giving him a strained smile. “Hey, Shinsou.” You could have sworn you saw him flinch at the use of his last name but you could be imagining it. Like you’re imagining his eyes wide with shock and something else… “Been a long time.”
He nodded, glancing down for a moment before moving his eyes to yours seemingly clear of any and all emotion. You weren’t surprised. “Yeah, it has.” He said in a slightly bored tone. And there it was. You weren’t surprised but damn, it hurt.
It’s like seven years of friendship and five of those dating meant nothing. You can feel your eyes burn slightly but you got a hold of yourself quickly. You didn’t want to start crying in a flower shop.
“When did you get back? I thought you were—“
“In America? I was.” He said shortly, his shoulders moving tensely as he pushed his hands into his pockets.
You waited for him to continue but he stayed silent, hard as stone. The dick. So you were going to have to pull it from him, it seemed.
“So, are you back for good? Just for a bit? I haven’t seen or heard from you in a year or so. It’s like you completely dropped off the face of the earth—“
“Midoryia called and asked for my help with a case. I owed him a favor. I didn’t want to come back.” He said, the venom curling in his words to shoot straight into your heart.
You breathed out a humorless laugh. “Of course not.” You mumbled, hoping you didn’t sound so distraught. Not that he cared. He was the one to call you up to tell you not to message him, call him or reach out to him again. When you had pushed for him to tell you what was wrong, he spit out a shaky I don’t love you anymore.
So that hurt.
“What does that mean?” He asked, hard and accusing in his tone making your head snap up to meet his lavender eyes.
Seriously? Is he really that obtuse?
“What do you think it means, Shinsou? You dropped me like I was nothing and left. It’s not hard to conclude that you’re not happy to be here.” You said harshly, taking a moment to take a breath and glancing around the shop. “I…I don’t want to do this here. I’m just…I’m just going to go.” You mumbled, leaving him no time to object (not that you cared).
You put back the snapdragons you had picked up earlier and made a beeline for the door, not acknowledging the call of your name and not hearing the shaking emotion while the door’s bell sounded as you made your escape.
-♡-
Well, shit.
You should have said no. You knew that Izuku was connected to Shinsou. But he had promised you help with tasting your new cupcake recipe as well as a newpasta recipe and he'd become a special and close friend, when he was free that is.
So it’s really your fault when you knock on the door with a bag of ingredients to see a certain purple haired asshole opening the door to Izuku’s apartment.
Your eyes widened as he lifted one brow, waiting for you to speak. You took a step back, looking at the neighboring doors and confirming your fears as you glanced at the opened door number. You readjusted the bag in your hand before running your hand through your hair in nerves.
“What are you doing here?” You asked with a sigh, feeling the tiredness start to ebb through you already as yesterday’s hurt started to slowly come back.
Shinsou barked out a chuckle, shaking his head as he leaned against the door. You felt your chest ache at his laid back posture, reminding you of him during your prime dating days. “I should be asking you that. I’m staying with him while I’m in town.”
You rolled your eyes, moving them to look behind the last man on earth you wanted to see right now. “Is he here? We had plans.” You said simply, avoiding the lavender eyes that seemed to be watching you with every move you made.
“No, he’s not. He had to run out for a minute. Said something about being back in a couple of minutes, though.” Shinsou said with a shrug, eyes moving down to the bag in your hand. “What kind of plans did you guys have?”
“Nothing that concerns you.” You said and without saying another word, ducked under his arm to make your way into Izuku’s apartment. You made your way into his kitchen, knowing exactly where everything was like second nature.
You’ve spent a lot of time in his kitchen whether it be your sugar nights where you both binge on sugar goods as you watch your favorite anime and kdrama episodes or where you cook for him since he is almost impossible when it comes to edible dinner choices. He’s become a really close friend within the last year, ever since…
You slam the bag on the island counter, fishing your apron on and tried to think of anything other than Shinsou slithering into the kitchen, almost hesitantly, to sit on one of the stools.
“Well, you’re getting cozy in Midoryia’s kitchen.” He scoffed, taking an apple from the fruit bowl and biting into it.
Your shoulders tensed as you can feel his eyes on your back as you gather the pots and pans needed for cooking and baking.
“Well, not sure why it’s any of your business but Izuku’s been acting as my taste tester for new baking recipes. Plus I cook him dinner because the poor thing burns almost anything he touches.” You chuckled at the memory of him catching his stove on fire making ramen.
You heard Shinsou take a breath through his nose and you looked up from getting your necessities organized. He had a furrow in his brow, like he was confused. “Why is he your taste taster? Don’t you have a boyfriend or something to do that? Or is he your boyfriend?”
You felt a quick anger fill you, eyes narrowing before you smiled sickly sweet to him. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” You smirked before you started to sift the flour, easy with your actions. How dare he come waltzing into your life and demanding questions like that? Of course you couldn’t move on, especially since it was only a year.
It hurt to think about the fact that Shinsou probably did move on easily so you tried to distract yourself. You hooked up the Bluetooth and put on your favorite playlist, barely glancing towards the purple haired man. “You don’t have to babysit me, you know. I’ve cooked and even stayed in his place when he was gone multiple times. He trusts me not to burn his place down. Go steal candy from kids or something.” You mumbled angrily as you started working on the cupcake batter.
The music playing was the only sound in the kitchen besides the scraping of the metal bowl as you continued to make the batter. He was still there but at least he was quiet which was bad news for you because you could still feel him staring at you.
Where is he coming from with this? Acts cold to you the other day just to smirk and try and act like nothing happened now? Even questioning if you had a boyfriend. Why was it his business? You stopped being his business the second he dumped you. It irked you, that he had so much hold over you still. It’s been a year and he completely broke your heart. You aren’t one to forgive easily but the desire to run into his arms and bury your face into his chest is constantly nagging you.
You focus on making your cupcakes, aware of his eyes on you just like the flour sticking to your skin and hoping for Izuku to show up soon. When you’re putting the pan into the oven, he still isn’t home yet and you start to smell something fishy. You lean against the over and pull out your phone, typing out you are dead meat, midoriya before blowing gently at the spread flour on your screen.
You wiped your hands on your apron before typing out another you’re lucky I love you and I’m making you All Might cupcakes.
You chuckled softly at the complete keysmash that your best friend sent back and apologies (which you weren’t too keen on).
“How long have you been friends with midoriya?”
Shinsou’s question took you by surprise, eyes snapping up to meet his. You saw his eyes widen just a smidge before lowering in an emotion that made your blood boil- boredom.
You crossed your arms, cocking a brow as you watched him carefully. He was tense, like he was trying not to show that he was vibrating out of his skin. He seemed nervous. Good.
You shrugged nonchalantly, looking up as if trying to figure out how long. “It’s been about….a year or so, I think.” You mumbled, remembering how Izuku started off as a blind date that your friend Ochaco had set up but the night ended up comparing All Might figurines and promises to be best friends instead of lovers. You had poured your heart out to him (unintentionally) during the “date” and he completely emphasized with you. Izuku was the main factor in you coping with your sudden break up with Shinsou.
“How did you guys even meet?” He asked with furrowed brows, leaning his crossed arms on the opposite side of the counter. “You’re not even in the same circles.”
You raised your brow and barked out a sarcastic laugh. “Seriously? How do you know what circles I’m in? You’ve been out of my life for over a year now. You don’t get to act like you know me anymore, Shinsou.” Your mocking smile dropped as the emotion started to tighten your throat. You turned to the fridge, needing the distraction. You started to gather some peppers and other ingredients.
“That’s not fair, Y/N.”
You laughed out loud, getting the cutting board out before you started to wash the green pepper. “Of course it’s fair, Shinsou! Of course it is! What’s not fair is leaving me high and dry in the middle of a long term relationship,” You said angrily and you started slicing up the pepper. “Because you decided that you didn’t love me anymore.”
You heard Shinsou sigh but didn’t look up. Frustration gathered in your throat and tried not to think too much about it as you concentrated on cutting. “It’s a little more complicated than that, Y/N.”
“Oh, I doubt that.” You scoffed as you started rinsing the red pepper. “Nothing is complicated about ‘Oh, I’m not in love with you anymore. So I’m going to just tell you to fuck off and not talk to me ever again’ to someone you’ve known for seven years and dating for five of those years.” You gritted your teeth as you slice through the pepper.
“It’s more than that, Y/N.” Shinsou said quietly. “You’re acting like I’m some heartless bastard.”
You looked up and tilted your head, unable to keep the emotion from your voice. “Aren’t you?” You whispered after a long moment. You noticed the way his eyes flash in something like hurt but it was quickly buried.
Good. You hoped it did hurt. After everything he did to you, what he put you through? He needed some of that hurt.
“Listen, Y/N. I know you’re upset about how things went. I know I hurt you but I’m not a monster. I don’t wake up in the morning with the idea that I never think about anyone at all but myself. That’s just not it.” Shinsou said roughly, his voice raising with every word.
“Really, Shinsou?” You snap back, still trying to focus on cutting the red pepper but your hands were starting to shake. You should have just left and came back another day. “Because it really seems like it. You never wrote so obviously you didn’t care for me. Five years, Shinsou. Five years down the drain and you don’t fucking care. You never care. Did you ever care? Because it seems like you never di--”
You gasped out as the knife sliced over your thumb, dropping the knife and grabbing your hand as tears started to sting your eyes. “Fu-fuck…” You whimpered out, kicking yourself for not paying attention to what you were doing.
“Shit.” Shinsou murmured as he jogged out of the kitchen but you didn’t think too much of it as you cradled your hand against your chest. Where did Izuku keep his first aid again?
You heard Shinsou’s footsteps jog back and walked over to stand in front of you. “Let me see it.” He murmured as you looked up to see him setting the first aid kit on the counter. Before you could open your mouth to protest, he held out his hand with a murmured “Please.”
With a sigh, you gave him the cut hand and hissed as he poked around it. “I can handle it, Shinsou.” You whispered with a pouted lip as he started to clean and disinfect it.
There was a long moment of silence before Shinsou started talking in a soft tone. “Do you remember the last few months, when I was working overtime at Bakugou’s agency?” He asked quietly, eyes trained on your deep cut.
You hummed, trying to keep your cool with him so close to you. Half of you wanted to punch and scratch and just scream in his face. But the other half of you wants to pull him in and beg for him to not leave again. Desperate, you know but it’s the truth. “You had to work overtime on the case. I remember you patching you up more times than not those last months.” You murmured as you watched his nimble hands work over your hand.
“Well, the villain we were fighting wasn’t your everyday jewelry store thief. They were merciless, thrived on chaos. They got into my head one battle and took a...liking to me, for a lack of a better term.” Shinsou continued quietly but you could hear the truth behind it. “They found out about me, where I grew up and…” He glanced up to you, meeting your eyes before he glanced back down to start wrapping your hand. “And who I loved. That night...I followed them to see them in our fire escape. So...I thought the next best thing would be to...veer them away.”
You watched him closely, trying to pick out the lie of this story that would easily clear up the last year of hurt but you found nothing. You felt your chest clench. “Do you mean…”
“When I…did what I did,” Shinsou said gently as he finished up bandaging before looking up to you. “When I broke it off and said those things…they were on the fire escape watching. And apparently it was a good show because they followed me all the way to America. But I got them after a couple of weeks.” He finished with a sad smile.
You were silent for a long moment, trying to figure out what to say next. It was a lot to take in but it didn’t seem like a lie to save his skin. Even though it’s been a long year, you knew Shinsou and you knew he was a terrible liar.
“You never called. Or wrote me. To tell the truth. Why?” You asked, your throat clawing with emotion. You cradled the bandaged hand to your chest as you watched him seem to fight with himself.
“I…know I hurt you. I’m not saying I didn’t. I tried to come back a couple of times but…it never seemed like the right time. And I was scared that either you’d still not want to see me or something worse and you’d become bait again.” Shinsou said quickly and you could tell that his anxieties were getting the best of him.
You felt your heart ache, once again torn between the two options. “I can’t believe you did that. I’m so mad at you for that but…I understand. I fucking don’t like that you did that and if you ever try do it that shit to me again, I’ll kick your ass myself.” You warned with a finger against his chest. “But I understand why you did it.”
Shinsou lifted his brow and smirked slightly. You squinted your eyes before crossing your arms. “What?” You asked suspiciously as you eyed the man who was so somber only moments ago.
“You told me not to do it again, like we’ll have to be together in order for me to even think to do it again.” Shinsou said, suddenly getting serious with his next words. “But I wouldn’t. This last year…has been hell for me. If I ever got the chance with you again, I wouldn’t dare to ruin it like that again.”
You hummed, thinking on his words. You wanted to jump right in, start where you both left off but you know that wasn’t the best idea. A year is a long time to be apart. You both could be different people now (gods you hoped you weren’t).
“How about we start with coffee tomorrow?” You asked with a soft smile. You still had some healing to do and some things take more time. But maybe this could be the start of something better, something more complex but worth it.
Never say never.
want to read more? check out the archives or go to the circulation desk ♡
#bnha imagine#bnha imagines#mha imagine#mha imagines#bnha drabble#mha drabble#bnha fanfiction#mha fanfic#shinsou hitoshi drabble#shinsou hitoshi x reader#r: starter
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Fic Writer Tag Game
How many works do you have on AO3? 263
What’s your total AO3 word count? 4,901,188
How many fandoms have you written for, and what are they? including the fandoms on FFnet, that haven't yet been moved over to ao3, that'd be a total of 37. separating the larger fandoms (marvel, dcu) into their individual parts: Thor; Arrow; Smallville; The Vampire Diaries; Glee; Captain America; Supernatural; Teen Wolf; Iron Man; Life with Derek; Firefly; Friday Night Lights; X-Men; Fantastic Four; Harry Potter; Sons of Anarchy; Girl Meets World; Batman; Daredevil; From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series; Transformers; Lost Girl; Game of Thrones; Banshee; High School Musical; The OC; One Tree Hill; CSI: New York; Degrassi; Gossip Girl; NCIS; The Unusuals; Criminal Minds; iCarly; Secret Life of the American Teenager; Twilight; and The Listener
What are your top 5 fics by kudos?
1. and I wonder (if everything could ever feel this real forever) - darcy/bucky - Steve tells him that Darcy's harmless. Bucky imagines, on paper, Darcy is harmless. HYDRA wouldn't give her a second glance. But he does. He can barely keep his eyes off her. He's not sure he wants to. | Kudos: 5576
2. I Climbed The Tree To See The World (When The Gusts Came Around To Blow Me Down, I Held On As Tightly As You Held On To Me) - darcy centric | darcy/steve - The path to self-discovery, including becoming Coulson's assistant-slash-liaison-slash-bff, Captain America's lady love, and rating fourth on the SHIELD BAMF scale, was like the yellow brick road; it was chaos and confusion around every bend. | Kudos: 3973
3. Take a little piece of my heart (and keep it for yourself) - oliver/felicity - A collection of Olicity prompts on Tumblr posted here for easier access/reading. | Kudos: 3498
4. You put your arms around me (and I'm home) - darcy/bucky - A collection of Darcy/Bucky oneshots, drabbles, and prompt fills. | Kudos: 3293
5. you (anchor me back down) - darcy/bucky - "I'll be right back." Famous last words. | Kudos: 2747
Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? not all of them. i do try to keep up on them, especially on longer stories when there's been significant wait times in between chapters, or when a reader is asking a question or is unclear on something. and especially when someone writes a really indepth comment/review, i like to respond to those and talk about motivations and character growth.
What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? I've written a number of fics that either had suicide or major character death, so i'm not sure if one outranks the other in terms of most angsty... hmm... i remember "be still and know that I'm with you (be still and know that I am here)" and "light a match, burn the world to ash (I will watch it die, and hold your hand as I fly)" both got some pretty intense reactions when they were posted. And "It's Your Song That Sets Me Free (I Sing It While I Feel I Can't Go On)" was basically just angst from beginning to end. buuuuut, i think i'll say "so you think you can tell (heaven from hell" was, only because there's a build up of everything going so right, only to pivot at the end, so it feels very bittersweet.
Do you write crossovers? If so what’s the craziest one you’ve written? i loooooove crossovers. i find writing in the marvel fandom makes things quite easy, but also smallville. as long as i can find a common thread, i enjoy finding a way to overlap two shows. i'll say the hardest one to write was "ruby red slippers (unavailable in her size)." I'm not sure why, but i found writing each personality together just felt strange. i liked the idea behind the story, but i definitely remember feeling like i was really forcing myself to keep going, like something just didn't fit right.
Have you ever received hate on a fic? oh, definitely. you cannot please everyone, it's impossible. for the most part, hate comes and i either argue back, take the criticism for what it's worth, or just ignore it when it's baseless. i think the hate that bothered me the most was a homophobic PM someone sent me re: "you know I will adore you ('til eternity)," on FFnet. i actually went and searched it up. they've since blocked me so i can't read our whole thread back and forth. but i did put part of it on tumblr so i could rant on it a bit, so you can see that here.
Do you write smut? If so what kind? ha. yes. depending on the story, it can be really detailed or really flowery. it depends on the ship, the plot, and how graphic i feel like being. i've definitely become more comfortable over the years with my writing. that said, i think everybody likes something different. i once had a reviewer tell me a sex scene was too much, just too intense. it was a stefan/caroline story and to be fair, that entire oneshot was just them fucking, lol, but it is what it is. to each their own.
Have you ever had a fic stolen? Multiple times.
Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes! for the record, i am always happy to have my stories translated and shared. i just like having a link sent to me and to be credited.
What’s your all time favorite ship? i have a list of OTPs, because interests change and as shows come and go, my love for a ship can be shelved for a while before it pops back up at random. currently, i can't get enough of buck/eddie from 9-1-1. and, historically, chloe/oliver (smallville) and felicity/oliver (arrow) have been two of my top OTPs. but i think i'd have to go with bonnie/damon. they had all the potential and the show dropped the ball by not exploring it. at the same time, that's kind of a blessing, because i don't trust those writers to properly explore what they had without eventually destroying it for the likes of de/ena. it means a treasure trove for writing where it could have gone and all the what if's.
What’s a WIP that you want to finish, but don’t think you ever will? the intention is always to finish. but given how i feel about allison mack and how that impacts my feelings re: chloe sullivan, pretty much anything with her as a main character is not something i see myself returning to.
What are your writing strengths? What are your writing weaknesses? i'm putting these together because my strength is my weakness. i love to write. when i get an idea, i go all in and i will skip eating and sleeping to just write write write. but i also eventually hit a wall and i get so many ideas that i hyperfocus on one until the steam is gone and then i hyperfocus on the next one to maintain that need to keep writing, accidentally leaving the last story in the dust for entirely too long. i also have clinical depression that comes and goes, which hasn't been super great mixed with covid and isolation, so more often recently, i find myself overly exhausted and despite wanting to write, can rarely get motivated to do so. so, pre-covid, wrote so much i left entirely too many stories dangling. during covid, i've just been reading and struggling to get myself focused enough to do what i love.
What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? i appreciate the authenticity when possible, but i've recently been reading more about how native speakers of other languages feel when a) their language is butchered by google translate, or b) it's just not genuine in terms of how bilingual speakers act or speak.
What was the first fandom you’ve written for? it was smallville, but i remember adopting it out to someone else because i wasn't going to finish it. so if you look at my ffnet, the first fandom i wrote for appears to be x-men: the movie, but i remember writing a chloe/oliver story prior to that.
What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written? i have a lot. i mean, on ffnet, i have 576 stories, many of which were transferred over to ao3, with a lot of oneshots and drabbles getting joined together into collections. so there's a ton to pick from that span a 14-ish year timeline.
"you know I will adore you ('til eternity)" and "let me break (the walls that surround me)" hold a special place in my heart.
honestly, each story is important in its own way. there are bits and pieces of each that i love. every time i write something new it feels like my favorite. my best. and then a new idea comes along. there are scenes i've written that i loved more than the whole of what they became. lines that stand out that are almost too good to be a part of the larger picture.
one of my all time favorite passages i've written was bonnie's thoughts on damon and herself in 'if you love me (let me go)":
He is far from perfect. He is a novel of red, corrective ink. He is frayed pages and torn binding. His life, his choices, his mistakes leave lasting effects on everyone he meets.
She is a lifeboat with a hole in it. An anchor that drowns in the sea while everyone else remains steady above. She is both the calm and the storm, and while she screams that she will not be tamed, she cries. Bittersweet tears that go unnoticed and uncared about.
there are other stories, other pieces of dialogue, that i've been proud of. that make me laugh when i re-read them. that make me cry. and i love them. there are others that make me wilt and cringe and regret. it's a process. love and pride and growth, all bound together.
Tagging: @absentlyabbie, @anonymous033, and anyone else who'd like to fill this all out, haha
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Fic Writer Review -tag game
Thank you @recurring-polynya for tagging me! I wish I could say I’m a Pisces so I love talking about myself, but I think that’s just a core personality trait at this point so! Let’s go!
1. How many fics on AO3?
17 Bleach fics (but many of them are short enough to be drabbles), 1 The Mandalorian fic, and 1 DC Comics fic under my pseud that I created specifically for Jason Todd. zabiume is where I fawn over Orihime and lazarus is where I fawn over Jason -- hence the distinction.
2. Total AO3 word count?
219,317 over two years but there are some fics I wrote that are only on Tumblr so maybe I’d add a couple 100-500 words to that? It did say AO3 word count, though, so maybe not.
3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?
I used to write for the TV shows Psych and Supernatural when I was really little but I never posted it anywhere lol. I’d say the fandoms I wrote the most for were Bleach and the 80s Batfamily, which was my favorite Batfamily era and probably still is. I don’t write fic as much as I read fic, so there are some fandoms I really, really love but never actually wrote for like the Spiderverse fandom, or the Death Note fandom (lol, don’t judge me). I probably write for Bleach the most.
4. Top Five by Kudos?
six hearts beat as one (164)
Make My Wish Come True (120)
The Epic Highs and Lows of Ghost-Hunting (102)
with you, anything is pawsible (100)
Tell You My Sins (97)
I’ve got a higher kudos count on my old Batfamily account I think, but I will not plug that here because I’m embarrassed and want to leave it in the paaaast.
5. Do you respond to comments, why/why not?
Absolutely! I feel grateful when people take the time out to leave a comment so I try my best to reply to all of them. Sometimes people might be binge-reading my longer fanfics and commenting on every single chapter (which is fun) but I don’t know if I’m supposed to reply to all of them so I might have just replied to the earliest/latest one and thanked them for all of it. Sometimes I get comments that are only emojis/in languages I don’t speak, and I don’t know what the proper etiquette is to reply to those but trust me I saw them and they made me vvv warm :’) I never reply on ff.net because I have no idea how that website works lmao but I get a lot more reviews there than I do on AO3 so it’s always exciting to post there even though the formatting makes me cry.
6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?
I don’t write a lot of fics with angsty endings as much as I do with angsty beginnings and middles, but the ending for Tell You My Sins is something I still get a few comments about saying “Oh my god!! How could you leave it there!!! Why do you hate me!!!” but I’d say that was more of a bittersweet, yearning ending than an angsty one, but who knows!
7. Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you’ve written?
I don’t write crossovers, but I have a lot of them in my head; my most buckwild one is probably Mom!Orihime Inoue/Mom!Talia Al Ghul but I’m not going to go into it unless someone actually wants to hear it sfjfjjf
8. Have you received hate on a fic?
Once? It wasn’t hate, per se, it was just the condescending brand of “oh I like your writing, but I’d like it better if you wrote [ship name] instead” which is...a bit annoying but I generally get a lot of kind comments from people I know here/on ff.net/on AO3 so I can’t complain.
9. Do you write smut?
In theory
10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
Not that I know of.
11. Ever had a fic translated?
Someone asked if they could translate my fic and post it on a Brazillian fanfic website, but I kind of hesitated because I had to make an account there and I didn’t want to make an account I don’t actually use, so I refused :/ We’re still talking about having it up on AO3, though, so you never know!
12. Ever co-written a fic before?
I’m very shy/self-indulgent so I usually do everything myself (both writing and editing). The most I’ve collaborated with people is when they send me prompts or I send them prompts. Hehe.
13. All-time favourite ship?
IchiHime, if we’re talking romantic, but if platonic relationships count then nothing will ever beat Bruce Wayne & Jason Todd for me!
14. What’s a WIP you want to finish, but don’t think you ever will?
Technically, Epic Highs and Lows is a WIP, but it’s not a WIP I want to finish, so no? I’ve made my peace with giving up on that one but I still get a few comments every now and then asking for an update (I’m sorry).
15. What are your writing strengths?
I think I’m good at describing feelings, and how much characters care about each other. I’ve been told I’m good at writing the relationships between characters, too, but if I had to pinpoint one strength I’d say it’s probably...my characterization? Characterization is pretty subjective but I’d say I like that I write characters exactly the way I see them. Sometimes I might write a light-hearted fic and go, “This could have been an excellent premise for a filler episode if Studio Pierrot weren’t absolute cowards” but I think that’s a bit egotistical.
16. What are your writing weaknesses?
I’m not very good at writing Plot/World-building, and my best fics are generally born from a short-term, situational idea, rather than a long-term fic that spans over chapters and chapters or across series. I don’t have a distinct writing style, which is something that bothers me sometimes, because I feel like I don’t have any Trademarks(tm) that would make a reader go, “Oh, yeah, that’s a Zabiume fic.” I feel like that makes my writing forgettable idk. I get very excited about sharing my fics with my readers so I hurry on the editing sometimes and might end up overlooking a tiny spelling error here and there, but that is just because I am excited to share my things with you guys okay!!! I’m a Golden Retriever.
17. What are your thoughts of writing dialogue in other languages?
Hmm, this is an interesting one. Since I write a lot of IchiHime fics, I feel like the honorifics make a lot of difference in their relationship i.e the tenderness that comes from calling someone by their last name, especially if you’re shy. I mean, the whole reason Ichigo calling Orihime by her first name in the epilogue is so special is because of how long it took for them to get there. I’m also fond of how softly Masakazu Morita says “Inoue” so now I can’t unhear it when I read the manga/write fic lolol. I’m Asian (and obviously I don’t want to generalize because there are. many countries in Asia) but my culture has a few similarities with the Japanese culture and some of my aunts call their husbands by their last names+honorific sometimes after marriage as a joke/term of endearment so that’s why I think I use the honorific sometimes, but mostly I don’t. Depends on the context. I’m not from Japan, but I’m not from America either, so I try to avoid “culturizing” my fic too much and keep it like,,,as universal as possible but I do try to do my research to the best of my abilities and not offend anyone. If I mess up somewhere, I’d love for people to correct me/teach me, though. Mostly I just write in English.
18. First fandom you wrote for?
I wrote Psych fanfic on MS Word and made my sister read it when I was like, ten I think. Mostly I just wrote fic in my head and never posted it anywhere because I’m horribly shy.
19. Favorite fic you’ve ever written?
My favorite fic I’ve written ever is my Batman fanfic, All the Memories Left By the Day, but my favorite fic I’ve written for Bleach would probably be my five lifetimes, one love series because I’m having a lot of fun writing it and roll back, like press and rewind, which is a fanfic where Ichigo Gets Pegged by Orihime.
Tagging: @ulquiorracifer, but no pressure! If any of my followers want to do this, you can just say I tagged you :)
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2020 Writing Summary
This was truly one shitty year... but I managed to make it through because of the natural escapism that is writing so that’s something I suppose. Also dipped my toes into quite a few new and interesting fandoms this year.
Black Clover
Lug//Na
The Secret (5067 words)
The Dragon and the Mage (7234 words)
Zora//Fin
Photographs (6395 words)
Bungo Stray Dogs
Chuuya & Lovecraft
Of Gods and Tea (2679 words)
Chu//Aku//Atsu
Thirsty (3365 words)
Ran//Poe
Things Newlyweds Do (4824 words)
Decadent (3613 words) M
Trifecta (5141 words) E
My Someone (5070 words)
Mystery Man (3143 words)
Once Upon a Frozen Mountain (9019 words)
A Slice of Bliss (4097 words) E
Partners in Witchcraft (4387 words)
Ran//Poe//Chu
To the Victor Belong the Spoils (3100 words)
Si//Gol
Yours (3171 words)
The Pretty Things in Life (2500 words)
Make a Wish (2851 words)
Promise (2865 words)
Tani//Hara
Everything We Never Said (3366 words)
Next to You (2804 words)
Tanizaki x Tachihara x Chuuya x Twain
Boys' Day Out (3005 words)
Multi-ship
BSD Rarepair Vday Ficlets (4041 words)
Chainsaw Man - Aki//Angel
Light Up The Dark (3157 words)
Cloth (4117 words)
Bad End (1500 words)
Muse (5291 words)
A Wish Your Heart Makes (2500 words) E
Angel of Mine (3482 words)
Hooky (2500 words)
A Different World (3151 words)
Dr. STONE
Hyo//Yo
An Unlikely Duo (17577 words) E
Novelty Cups (4156 words)
Puppy Love (2500 words)
Tsuka//Sui
Tall Tale (7038 words)
Sensations (6000 words)
Take a Gamble on Me (4092 words)
Cloud Nine (5026 words)
Best You've Ever Had (3857 words) E
Crazy About You (10665 words) M
Love, huh? (2500 words) E
In His Kiss (8060 words) E
My Boyfriend's Princess (5639 words)
Home Is Where The Heart Is (3524 words)
Sweethearts Cupcake (10355 words)
Moonlit Promise (2600 words)
Beautiful Lies (4687 words)
True (15282 words)
Miracle on a Balcony (11212 words)
Tsuka//Sui//Hyo
Three Hearts (5238 words)
In the Middle (4264 words) E
It's Complicated (10000 words) M
Of Naps and Baths (3000 words)
Xeno//Stan
I Do It All For You (5516 words)
Saccharine (2500 words)
An Elegant Feline (3590 words)
Better Than Fantasy (5068 words) E
All That I Want (3500 words)
An Elegant Flavor (14570 words)
Millennia for Two (2500 words)
Given
Aki//Haru
Ink (18309 words)
Into You (3608 words)
Shizu//Ragi
I Really Like You (4019 words)
Sweater Weather (2500 words)
Of Wolf and Man (4251 words)
Neighbor, Neighbor (7551 words)
All of the Stars (4055 words)
Breakfast in America (4590 words)
Multi-ship
Given Winter Event Drabbles (5465 words)
Great Pretender - Eda//Urent
I Need You Always (3020 words)
Gratitude (3434 words)
Jujutsu Kaisen
Ita//Jun
Classics and Confessions (3266 words)
The Way You Look Tonight (5181 words)
The Greatest Thing You'll Ever Learn (3000 words)
Inu//Fushi
Signs of the Heart (5076 words)
Memorable (5294 words)
Moriarty the Patriot - Will//Seb
Tokens of Affection (3094 words)
Arm Candy (5144 words) E
Intoxicated Endearments (7055 words)
Oh, Brother (3247 words)
Oh, Darling (4099 words)
Noblesse - Tao//Keo//21
As You Are (3518 words)
Graceful (11146 words)
Of Grumps and Selfies (2500 words)
Date Night (2500 words)
Two of a Kind (4190 words)
♧
Total Fic Count: 85
Total Word Count: 431,063
♧
Stat questions under cut
Longest Fic: Ink
(actually thats my longest posted fic -sweats-)
Shortest Fic: Bad End
Fic With the Most Kudos: Gratitude
Fandoms Written For: Black Clover, Bungo Stray Dogs, Chainsaw Man, Dr. STONE, Given, Great Pretender, Jujutsu Kaisen, Moriarty the Patriot, Noblesse
Rarepairs or Popular Pairings? ....this entire list is rarepairs I don't know what else to tell you fam.
First fic of the year: Given Winter Event Drabbles
Last fic of the year: A Different World
Ship you wrote the most fics for: TsukaSui 🥇
Did you write more fics than you thought you would this year, less than you thought, or about what you predicted: Not sure lol. Def for more fandoms than I expected though
What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted last year: JJK... really wasn’t that invested when I started the series... lo and behold Junpei happened and my whole world changed. I don’t find myself gaining comfort characters very often but he gave me no choice in the matter. His smile is pure serotonin. His very existence is a blessing. He is my sunshine and deserves only happiness. Anything else is fake.
Underrated pairing that that the fandom is sleeping on: see the entire list above the cut
Pairing you wish you’d written about: Kiri//Kami or Baku//Shin I suppose... maybe Todo//Shin? Dave//Might. I do miss my HeroAca boys. But alas, I can only provide what I’m motivated to write T_T
Sexiest fic: I dunno man... I try but yeah still dont think my smoot is any good
Saddest fic: Bad End since its full on angst :c
Funniest fic: Of Gods and Tea... at least I think that one is hilarious. Chuuya and Lovecraft are such a great duo XD
Fluffiest fic: All of the JJK and all of the Noblesse because those chars suffer enough in canon and all I want is them to have sweet, wonderful times. Actually that goes for the CSM ones too aside from one.
Number of multichap fics: 3... it was a oneshot kind of year
Trope or AU you wrote more than once: Canon Is Fake... is that a trope? Nah, it’s just a truth. As for AUs hmm.. Fantasy ofc.
Top 5 “Additional Tags”: Established Relationship, Mild Language, Aged-Up Character(s), Fluff, Feelings Realization
Fic that ended up completely different than you thought it would: Millennia for Two... Xeno was supposed to be kidnapped and thinking back on the soft between him and Stan then threaten Senku but uhhh canon things happened and well I changed that lmao
Did you write any polyship fics this year: of course!! i looooove polyshipssss!! i wrote 12 across 3 fandoms this year ^_^
Writing goals for next year:
1. Get better at it
2. Find inspiration to write for old favs again
3. Introduce others to the beauty of the things I ship through heartwarming tales
4. Actively seek out collabs and/or trades
Random fact: It’s not as easy as one would think to find a song title relevant to my fic every time I write one for Given! But its worth it cause in the end I could make a playlist out of all of the stuff I’ve written if I felt like it XD
#2020 writing summary#long post#might be a tiny update if i manage to post something riiiiight before the new year but who knows tbh#maybe ill just stare at a wall for a week#my fics
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OC taddy masterpost!!!!!
Are you, as I am, struggling to cope with the end? Do you feel like shedding a tear? Are you going to miss omgcp so much?…………..
Yeah, me too.
BUT.
*Danny Devito voice* Can I offer you some tadpoles in this trying time?
From the studio that brought you love finds you and its expanded universe (aka myself and @hockeysometimes shouting at each other via text)………………. it’s time for the OC Class of 2021 tadpoles I promised I’d tell you about the other day!!!!
(By popular demand.)
FIRST UP!
Sebastián “Nando” Hernandez
Position: Defense
Jersey number: 43
Hometown: Tempe, Arizona
So the other day, I wrote this drabble from Nando’s point of view, because I just wanted an excuse to write some soft nurseydex shit involving one of the taddies. Nando is my sweet child and I would die for him. All of this started because hockeysometimes and I were talking about the frogs’ senior year and I was like, you know, there should be a baby gay freshman when Nursey and Dex are seniors, and then they love and cherish him like their child.
Thus: Nando. A good boy, and a soft one, even though he’s like 6′3 and a tank. He lives with his mama and his two little sisters, and they’re his whole entire world. He and Whiskey also definitely know each other, because I feel like it’s hard not to when you’re close in age and both play hockey in such a non-hockey-fixated area. (I know we don’t technically have confirmation that Whiskey lives in the Phoenix metro area, but stay with me.)
Nando is soft in that he wears his emotions on his sleeve, because he grew up in a family environment that fostered healthy emotional processing. (What a concept!) But he’s also very much a frat bro. He will get turned the fuck up at kegsters because he feels like having a good time. I would say Nando Patrol, but Nando doesn’t even really disappear; he’ll throw down his awful dance moves and questionable singing right in plain sight. Where Nursey will climb on the roof, Nando will just shout into a megaphone.
Nando is also gay, and at first he has a little trouble reconciling that with the fact that he’s about to play college hockey. Even though he’s been following Samwell in the news, and has been so inspired by Bitty and the legacy of LGBT athleticism at the school (that’s definitely one of the main reasons he chose Samwell in the first place), he has that fear because it’s been with him in hockey all his life. It quickly dissolves once he arrives to campus and realizes what a welcoming environment he’s gotten himself into. He and Tango get on like wildfire.
He studies sociology, gets quickly addicted to Annie’s, and calls his mama every day. Nursey wants to adopt him.
NEXT!
Remy “Touille” Tremblay
Position: Center
Jersey number: 20
Hometown: Quebec City, Quebec
First, of all, YES. That nickname comes from exactly the place you think it does. Pronounced “too-ie”. It happens like this:
(First night of preseason, in the bungalow. Mid-Frog pile.)
Nursey: I can’t believe we have a freshman named Remy.
Chowder: Like from Ratatouille!
Nursey: ............ We should call him Ratatouille.
Dex: No.
Chowder: YEAH!
Dex: Absolutely not.
Chowder: But Deeeeeexxxx, Ratatouille is a swawesome nickname!
Dex: No, it’s not. If I showed up at college and my teammates immediately started calling me Ratatouille, I would transfer immediately.
Nursey: Chyeah, because you’re lame.
Dex: We are not calling him Ratatouille.
Nursey: Boooo. You suck.
Chowder: C’mon, Dex! It’ll be fun!
Dex: No.
Nursey: We should put it up to a vote.
Dex: You can’t do that.
Nursey: Who says?
Dex: The bylaws.
Nursey: There’s no bylaw that says that.
Dex: Well, I’m making one. I’m invoking my captain’s privileges.
Nursey: Well, I’m rescinding my vote for your captaincy.
Chowder: Impeach Dex 2k17.
Dex: I hate both of you.
Chowder: :O
Chowder: :(((
Dex: Sorry, Chowder. I meant mostly Derek.
Chowder: :D
Nursey: 😘
Dex: >:(
Nursey:
Chowder:
Dex:
Chowder: What about Touille for short?
Nursey: (Huge celly.) YES! C, you’re a genius.
Chowder: I’m texting the group chat.
Dex: Jesus Christ, this poor freshman.
So there we have it. This poor child. I don’t accept constructive criticism and neither do Nursey and Chowder.
Touille is French-Canadian as fuck. That is the first thing you need to know. He definitely lives in a super old, nice townhouse in Old Quebec. His dad owns a tourist-trap crêperie where Touille works in the summers, and his mom is a nurse at the local hospital. He’s an only child, but his mémé, his maternal grandmother, lives with them, and Touille spends a good deal of time with her. She’s definitely like ninety years old, and speaks no English.
He scores a lot, and he’s smallish— not Bitty small, but his playing is definitely more about skill than physicality. He doesn’t brood, but he judges you in French. He’s never exactly a grouch, but he isn’t a morning person, so if you try to talk to him at morning practice it’s unlikely that you’re getting through to him.
And while he’s not exactly shy, but he’s more on the introverted side as far as frat bros go. He definitely did a year or so of juniors before college. He came to America school to play ice sport and also to have a good time. He definitely wheels a lot of girls, because they fall for his accent and also want to steal his varsity jacket.
(He never lets them.)
He majors in history, and could definitely go on to play professionally, like all good prodigal French-Canadian children. I’m realizing as I’m writing this that I’m sort of making him sound like a discount Jack, but please understand that a.) he doesn’t come from a hockey empire, b.) he doesn’t come from money at all, and c.) he doesn’t stuggle with any kind of mental illness. He just wants to hang out with his mémé, score goals, and learn about the French Revolution.
And last up!
Ben “Rhodey” Shaley
Position: Goal
Jersey number: 6
Hometown: Providence, Rhode Island
Ben’s nickname is Rhodey because he literally makes being from Rhode Island into a personality trait. You laugh, but this is a real thing. Hockeysometimes said he’s like Chowder with the Sharks, but with the Falcs, so I feel like that’s all you really need to know about Rhodey. (I jest. I’ll say more.) At some point during his SMH career, he definitely gets to meet a handful of the Falcs, and possibly passes out.
As a goalie, Rhodey is precious by default, but he’s also... a frat bro, and that’s dangerous. He and Nando are roommates their freshman year, and probably also in the years following, and the two of them at kegsters can get unhinged. Rhodey can and will dance with enough drinks in his system, and it’s bad. The playing of the Cha Cha Slide is permanently banned at Haus kegsters because of a particularly heinous incident in November of Rhodey and Nando’s freshman year.
Rhodey has always wanted to go to Samwell, because he grew up playing youth hockey in the area and therefore going to clinics there, and also because he has an uncle who’s a hockey alumnus. He comes from a big family— not Poindexter big, mind you, but he probably has about four siblings, including a younger brother who also plays hockey and a sister who comes to Samwell to play on the women’s team.
He and Nando are roommates and also best friends. He’s significantly more unhinged than Chowder but just as goalie-ish. He will fight, especially if someone is like, hey, man, Rhode Island is small and also sucks!!!!! Chowder feels the need to protect him. Also, he definitely gets Chowder’s dibs.
(Wait, that would be so soft, please picture Ford getting the dibs to the bungalow because Dex knows she covets that space, and then Rhodey gets Chowder’s and Nando gets Nursey’s and they’re hallmates and why am I crying in the club right now?)
As a freshman, Rhodey enters undeclared, but he ends up declaring a major in architecture. He’s probably going to live in Providence all his life, and he’s damn proud of it, thank you very much.
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Forgotten Memories (Liam x MC)
A/N: So Hi, I never write anything (this is my first oneshot/fic/ drabble?), so don’t expect this to be a regular thing but I got this idea from a photo from my childhood (I was dressed as a princess), and my MC head canon, kind of has a tragic backstory and I felt like this was a good way to discuss it with Liam. I just want to preface that there isn’t a ton of dialogue, because as I wrote this, I realized how atrocious I was at writing dialogue…..Oh also, I mention that they have a VCR, and I’m just gonna need you to pretend that those aren’t obsolete anymore, cause otherwise they wouldn’t be able to watch the tape. so yeah…thanks. ok. enjoy. bye. 🙈🙉🙊
Description: MC(I named her Riley because I’m unoriginal) replays an old tape from her childhood, and shares some memories about her past with Liam.
Riley sat in one of the spare rooms in her and Liam’s quarters. Dozens of boxes scattered the room as the Queen tried to unpack. It seemed comical that after being married to Liam for the past eight months and living in the Palace, she has just found the time to sort through belongings from her past. Though given the renovations on the royal quarters were only recently completed, and then the extended stay in America for the Beaumont/Walker wedding, it really wasn’t a surprise at all.
Most of the boxes went untouched when Riley came to Cordonia over two years ago, and while she still did not have a need for her old Diesel jeans, or black non-slip waitress shoes, sorting through her old life brought up many nostalgic memories. Besides the clothing that took up most of the boxes, there were a few that held mementos of her childhood. An old barbie, that now had tattered clothes, and frizzy hair, it was one of the only dolls that Riley had when she was little, and she carried it everywhere. Holding the doll in her hand, she could recall the time when she was just a child, she’d bring the doll along with her to the park, where she’d find her older brother shooting a basketball, and her neighbors grouped around watching the young children scattered about.
A small smile played on her face as she placed the doll down, and picked up the next object, another memory forming. It was a coffee mug that had a faded floral print and a chip on the rim. While it didn’t seem like an extraordinary object, it held a significant place in Riley’s heart. It was the coffee cup she saw her mother use every day. The same one that would be held in her Mother’s hand as she woke her for school every morning, the floral scent of her mother’s tea rose perfume, reaching her, before she even opened her eyes. Or the same mug that would be clutched in her mother’s grasp as she called for Riley and her brother to come inside, from the balcony of their small one bedroom apartment.
The things that were in these boxes, told more about Riley’s life than any of her accomplishments could, even more than Maxwell’s memoir would.
Riley sat back from sifting through the box, trying to recall her childhood, beyond what these objects were able to bring about, but that was the problem, there weren’t many more. Whether that was because they were insignificant to her, or whether she subconsciously wanted to forget the bad, there weren’t many. But, obviously, her life went on, and while her mother worked tirelessly to provide her with everything her and her brother could want, Riley couldn’t help but be grateful for what had become over her life. Married to a man who loved and adored her, a little baby on the way. Hell, she was Queen of a country, how could she possibly regret anything about how her life turned out. Well maybe one regret, the pixie cut in middle school that had her mocked for months. That may be the only thing she’d change.
Her hand absentmindedly went to her small bump, ghosting gentle circles over where she felt the tiny flutters of the baby’s movement. A happy reminder that her child would have a childhood filled with happy, loving memories, with both of its parents guiding them through life.
Her grin was prevalent as she returned to sorting through the remaining contents of the boxes, mostly old papers and projects from when she was in grade school, a few sports item,-most likely keepsakes from her late-brother, and an old high school sweatshirt that had a faint scent of nauseating axe body spray, most likely owned by an ex-boyfriend that she stole it from and never returned, nor threw away.
As she lifted the sweatshirt, she spotted the last item remaining, an old VHS tape. It’s content even more of a surprise, since there were not many photographic memories from her childhood. And she could not remember a time when her small family ever had a video camera. The quizzical look returned when she saw the unmistakable scrawl of her mother’s hand writing on the label: Riley’s 4th B-Day
Checking the time on her phone, she noticed that Liam would be arriving home from his last meeting soon. She closed up the last of the boxes, deciding to take time another day to sort through the remainder of her past life. Exiting the spare room, Riley walked through the hall of the royal family’s quarters, holding onto the VHS tape, glancing up when she heard her husband enter through the front door.
“Hello, my love,” He says, removing his suit jacket, placing it on the chair beside the entrance. Riley smiles at him, noticing his tired appearance. Liam had taken on more work, and scheduled even more meetings for himself, to lessen the load of her schedule, but also lessen the load of what would be expected of them in just a few short months.
Riley greeted him and he leaned down to press a kiss to Riley’s lips, while also placing a hand on her growing bump. She reciprocated wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning into his embrace.
“How was the rest of your afternoon, feeling okay?” He asked, holding her close, relishing in their embrace.
“Yes, it was very productive. I got through some of those old boxes, most of it can be donated, old clothes and what not, but I found some things from my childhood, random mementos that I had held on to, nothing too special but,” Riley explained, and her giddy joy took over as she held up the tape she found, “Look what was hidden at the bottom of one! It’s from my childhood, though I don’t remember much from my fourth birthday, but how amazing, I thought there was nothing left, but this just comes out of nowhere.”
Liam returned his wife’s joy, while he knew some of Riley’s upbringing, it was always a painful remembrance for her to talk through, as she reminisced about her late mother and brother. This provided a glimpse into her forgotten childhood, that she could keep and remember forever.
“I know we have dinner with our friends tonight, but do we have time to watch it now?” Riley questioned, Liam taking a glance at the time on his watch, “I believe so. We should be able to watch this in our room.” They grabbed the tape and headed to their bedroom. Once in the living area of the suite, Liam put the VHS in the player and turned on the TV and when they were both comfortable on the couch, Liam pressed play.
“Ok, my little love, are you ready for your big day,” a light voice asked. “Yes, Mama, I ready to be a pwincess.” A little voice replied, bringing into view a baby faced-Riley. Liam’s eyes widened as he looked at little Riley dressed up as a princess. The sparkly pink dress with matching crown and glitter wand, were perfect.
“And what is today, Princess Riley?” her mother asked. “My bwirthday!” The eager little girl shouted, showing off a toothy grin, “And how old are you sweetie?” Riley replied holding up four fingers. “How many is that Riley?” Her mother encouraged. Riley touched each finger counting out, “One, two, three, four. Four, Mama!”
Just then, a little boy, dressed in his own princely garments, appeared on the screen, standing next to Riley, “ah, and there is Prince Nicholas. Are we ready to start the party then?” The voice asked. The picture began to shake and shift over the small apartment, landing on the scene of the kitchen table where it was set for an extravagant tea party. With the two kids seated at the table, a woman passed in view, sitting next to little Riley. That woman, being Riley’s mother, Rose.
At the sight of her mother, Riley’s breath caught in her throat as she watched intently, everything about this forgotten moment making her that much more emotional. She never thought she’d be able to see her mother, or hear her mother’s voice again, it had been years since she’d passed. Riley had almost forgotten how gentle and even toned it was, it was like listening to a peaceful lullaby.
The scene played out before them, young Riley and Nicholas both taking moments to tell extravagant tales of their “life” in the castle, until Riley’s exclamation that when she grows up, she wants to marry a Prince.
Liam squeezed his wife’s hand at that moment, stealing a glance at her, smiling, as she watched the home video play out. Liam kept his gaze to her, as looks of confusion rolled along Riley’s face. She didn’t remember much about this birthday. Sure, she remembered the pink dress, and the tiara, and of course, the claims of wanting to be an actual princess, but what little four year old girl didn’t dream about being a princess.
Riley didn’t have too many memories from when she was younger, very few stuck, and there weren’t many reminders of what her life was like before she was able to recall moments from her childhood. And the moments she could remember, weren’t always filled with her mother smiling so much, or her brother and her laughing until their faces turned red.
Tears began to prick her eyes, damn hormones, Riley thought, trying to hold back all the emotions she was facing watching the reminders of her fourth birthday. Liam tightened the hold on his wife as he sensed her reaction to the video. The memories carried on before them and Riley was almost lost in nostalgia until a knock sounded through the old recording.
In the video, Riley’s mother gave a confused look, as her children voiced who they thought the unexpected visitor may be. Rose moved out of the camera frame as she went to answer the door, where a new voice was heard.
“Hello Princess!”
Little Riley’s face lit up as she saw the source of the voice, and with a grin exclaimed, “Daddy!” Immediately running out of the camera view to greet him.
Though their joyous reunion was only overheard, the look on her young brother’s face remained, as he rolled his eyes and gave an annoyed huff. Rose, returning a moment later, giving Nicholas a pointed look. Riley could practically hear the tone her mother would use, Play nice Nicholas. It’s your sister’s birthday, it makes her happy.
That’s when the man, that Riley never thought she’d have to see again, stepped into view of the camera. Holding on to his four year old, smiling and laughing. And overall what looked like a blissful moment, only pained Riley to see it even more.
Present Riley immediately tensed, reaching over to grab the remote to turn the TV off. Her breath was heavy, as her heart rate increased. She felt like her world was closing in around her as she reacted to the memories the old VHS tape brought about. Riley’s relationship with her father was a bit troublesome. He was only around occasionally during her childhood, showing up maybe once or twice a year-usually around the summer, and if she was lucky again during her birthday. But the man had disappeared all-together when she was eight years old, only sending a sporadic birthday card or Christmas card, if he remembered. Or at least that’s what she thought. She learned the truth, years later, of what kept his life, his actual, real, day-to-day life from hers in New York.
Riley felt Liam’s hands smooth over her cheeks, not even realizing that her tears were falling harder than before. The tightness in her chest subsiding as she could faintly hear her husband’s whispered words, that tried to calm her down. Take a deep Breathe, Riley. It’s okay, my love. I’m right here. Look at me.
She was able to calm her breathing, realizing her panic wasn’t just affecting her, but the little life inside her. Hesitantly, she lifted her gaze, meeting the bright blue eyes of her husband. They were filled with worry as they began to search her face.
“Hey there, talk to me.” Liam’s thumbs wiped the remaining tears from Riley’s cheeks. She hiccuped at the fetal attempt she made to calm down. “I-I’m fine.” She whispered, fearing her voice would give away the true heartbreak she still felt. She didn’t want Liam to worry, he always worried enough about her. “I just need a moment,” she asked, settling against him as Liam returned the embrace, his hands landing on her bump.
Even eighteen years later, Riley didn’t realize the hurt that she still held onto. How the man who lied to her, and left her, could still continue to break her heart. The memory on the VHS tape wasn’t even a bad one, it actually seemed like a normal jovial moment between her and her father. But maybe that was the issue, of all the memories Riley had with her father, they were always happy. Her second grade graduation where he surprised her with red roses and a trip to an ice cream shop for a giant chocolate sundae, or her sixth birthday where he bought her an American Girl doll and a visit to Manhattan where they ate tiny sandwiches and drank tea.
Yes, the little time she spent with her father was some of the most resounding in her mind, and that broke her heart even more. She couldn’t remember the joyous times with her mother, no shopping trips or grabbing coffees, gossiping over a boy Riley had a crush on, nor could she recall special moments with her older brother, him comforting her over a boy who broke her heart or cheering for her at her high school graduation. No, instead, the materialistic recollections of her absentee father filled her thoughts.
Liam soothingly ran his hand along her back, her head tucked under his chin. Riley was no longer crying, just staring at the space ahead of her. “Do-Do you want to talk about it?” He asked, lowering his gaze to hers.
“It was hard to see them. My mom, my brother.” She paused, shaking her head in a bit of disbelief, “my dad.. it was a bit surreal. I don’t think I’ve ever remembered a time when we were all so happy.” Riley took the time to let it sink in. “I mean, my childhood wasn’t horrible, my mom made sure we never went without, but she worked long hours, and my brother and I shared a cramped bedroom, while my mom slept in the living room. It wasn’t ideal but considering our circumstances, that’s just how it was.”
Liam nodded in understanding, knowing this instance of her life, while it wasn’t a traditional home, it was Riley’s, and he believed that her family’s struggles helped build her into the woman he loved so much. The strong, compassionate, loving, woman.
“But to see my father,” She continued, shaking her head at the thought of him, “My face lit up like someone plugged-in a strand of Christmas lights, I don’t know why I believed that man held the world in his hands, but that’s how I saw him at the time.”
Riley’s voice began to shake near the end, knowing she had to stop. To take a breath, let her husband provide her with a pearl of wisdom that he always could offer to her.
“He was-he is your father, no matter what he decided to do later in your life. I think in the moments he did spend with you, are true and honest to how much he cared for you.” He remarked, not knowing the entirety of Riley’s reality, “Parent’s do crazy things sometimes, some meddle in your life when they think they know what’s best, other’s just leave when they feel like they can’t be their best. And the one’s like your mom, will do everything in their power to make sure that you can become the best.”
He always has a way with words, That was what she needed, Riley knew that Liam always could talk through her jumbled thoughts, to help sort the mess and hurt in her mind, that she couldn’t quite articulate as eloquently.
“Thank you, it helps calm my mind to hear that, and even though I don’t think I can ever forgive him for leaving or for what he did to my mom… thank you.” She tilted her head, capturing his lips. Trying to convey the love she felt for him. He eagerly returned the kiss, only to pull back to rest his forehead against hers, his hand cupping around the side of her neck.
“Anything for you, my love.” He reminded her, placing a kiss to her forehead. Riley leaned into his embrace, wrapping an arm around his neck and she shifted to rest her legs across his lap.
“Can I know what happened? I mean, other than the fact that he disappeared when you were a child, I don’t really know much more about him.- Like what is his name?” He asked, running his thumb along her knuckles. She smirked at his caring nature, feeling herself calm in the hurt she felt towards the man.
“His name is Andrew, Andrew Pierce.” She revealed, sorting through the account of her father’s life “I’ve mentioned before how the last time I saw him was when I was eight years old, but I only discovered the truth about him when I was fifteen, right before my mom passed away.” Riley continued on, to explain how her father had another family in some fly-over state, the traditional white picket fence family, and Rose only discovered the truth when she attempted to serve Andrew with child-support papers. Learning that not only did he not live in New York, he had a wife and child living as a happy family in some upper middle class neighborhood. The nice house, with fancy cars, the extravagant vacations and family parties, while her mother worked 18 hour days, sacrificing time with her kids to make sure they had a roof over their heads and food on the table.
The extravagant gifts that Riley received from her father would be things she would trash later on, knowing how much more he could have provided for her. Not even in materialistic items, but in her school tuition, or school uniforms or lunch cards. Andrew Pierce couldn’t even make sure that his daughter survived on the streets of New York City, his decorum wouldn’t allow for it.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to talk about this before. I thought that, that part of my life was over, that it held no baring over who I am right now. But it does, subconsciously, I think that it has always been a motivation to who I am, and who I wanted to become. Thinking that if I was good enough, he would want to be a part of my life.
“No need to apologize, love. I figured whenever you felt ready to share, that you would.”
Liam’s hold on his wife tightened, placing a kiss to her hair, as he heard the recounts of the man who is her father. It easily rivaled and bested his own, surprisingly. He silently wished there was a way he could take away the pain his wife had felt for so many years.
“I wish I could offer more, but I know that we learn from our parent’s mistakes. I know that as much as I admired my father as a King, I wish to not repeat how he was as a father to me.” Liam remarked, trying to soothe Riley.
“I know Liam, you are going to be an amazing father to our little cub, they couldn’t ask for anyone better. That’s one thing I know for sure, I never have to worry that you will leave our child or that you will pass them along to a nanny just because you can” Riley smiled, picturing Liam holding their little cub, her dark curls with his expressive ocean eyes. Running a hand through his hair she tentatively thought of herself as a parent. As a mom. It terrified her.
“I’m scared,” she paused, “I’m scared that I’m going to turn out like him, that I’m not cut out to be a mom, to be a parent.” Liam’s arm tightened around her, “I don’t believe that for one instant, you care for our baby so much, you are loving and compassionate and strong, and I know you, Riley, you are meant to do whatever you set your mind to. You are not Andrew Pierce, you are Riley Brooks-Rys.”
A smile tugged at her lips as she rested her head against his shoulder, her fear subsiding at his words, “ Thank you Liam, Thank you for being you,” She whispered, “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“And hey, four year old Riley got her wish, she married a Prince- well a King, but same thing.”
Riley laughed at her husband’s antics, a swell of love filling her heart. “Yes she did, and that’s the best thing that’s ever happened to her.” She remarked, planting a kiss on Liam’s lips.
#king liam#trr liam#liam x mc#king liam x riley#king liam x mc#the royal romance#the royal heir#....delete later.....#playchoices#my writing#Cristinawrites
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Top 7 Works 2020 - moodboards, image edits, fanart
rules: it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 (ish) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!
I was tagged by @rebelmeg; I decided to follow her example and create separate lists for word-based and art-based works.
This was fun, so tag yourself if you want to give it a go.
I tried out several new art skills last year, including image editing removing backgrounds and drawing comics. For someone who still thinks of themself primarily as a writer, a lot of my works were art fills! In reverse-chronological order:
1. BUCK-E’s Problem
Fanart & drabble | Dum-e, Tony, Bucky
I’ve had so much fun working on my DUM-E’s Drawings series (drawing using a pair of kitchen tongs) over the last two years. And it’s great the way that, by removing the expectation for artistic quality, I can actually see my skills improving. This drawing in particular, I had a mental image, and this was the only attempt I allowed myself to reproduce it.
2. Workout
Moodboard | Tony, dog!Steve, dog!Bucky
This is one of my favourite moodboards created this year. It was done as part of a bingo party challenge, so completed in about 4 hours. It is a different style to my usual (and I think my first no-powers au), but I really like the pics I found.
3. Hero Eternal
Moodboard & poem | Steve
I spent so long gathering all the images for the background of this one. Seriously, I got to the point where I knew exactly which muscles created the angstiest expressions. But I really like the overall effect - I love exploring the interaction between Steve Rogers and Captain America. The poem is one of my favourites as well.
4. Firelizard Friend
Image edit & ficlet | Tony
A new thing I discovered this year was how to remove the background from images, so I can layer them. When I first wrote the Avengers/Pern x-over headcanons, I was bemoaning the fact that I didn’t have the skills to draw the cute scenes I was describing - I was so excited when I found a way I could. I also have an Iron Man scene and a pair of Steve/Cap scenes, and a Natasha wip.
5. DUM-E plays dress-ups
Fanart (comic) | Dum-e
This was so much fun, using my limited drawing skills to create such expressive moments. People seemed to really enjoy it too. (I also love the fact that this was my first response to a kink prompt...)
6. Buy Now: Heat-sensitive SHIELDRA mug
Image edit & drabble | Hydra
This was just such a fun idea, and I love how it worked out; both the image and the drabble.
Do you want to show off your loyalty to your organisation? Frustrated that undercover operation cramps your style? Worry no more!
When left in a cupboard or on your desk, this vessel looks like any other SHIELD mug. But add a hot beverage of your choice and your true allegiance is revealed!
This deceptive dishware comes in sizes L, XL and Helicarrier, and is a must-have for any ‘SHIELD�� employees pulling double-duty. Limited distribution only, so talk to your HYDRA supplier now!
The manufacturers wish to advise that Regulation 39.4.7 regarding the display of HYDRA-affiliated symbols applies. Use with discretion.
7. Love is Comfortable
Moodboard | Pepper/Natasha
It’s the only time I’ve ever used this ship, but I just really like how the moodboard turned out; usually, mine are less aesthetic-based.
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Map of the City - Queen Bee in New York
Chloe is trying (but in America)
Inspired by @gale-of-the-nomads au , Queen Bee’s City!
here you go, love - @zazzlejazzle
Bascially Chloé does move to New York with her mom and trys to contiune being Queen Bee! Savior of New York. . . .well. . .trying to be at least. . .
I have like 6 WIP’s and the number grows whenever I try to write a new fic. I surprised myself by being able to pump this out under two days. It’s a small drabble, but it was still fun writing out how Chloe would grow and take this role seriously.
Chloé pulled out another colored pen from her case. Testing the ink before she committed to it. Scribbling on the edge of her notebook, checking if it still worked before drawing on her canvas. Looping the pen around till a thick trail of ink left the tip. With her metal ruler in her other hand, Chloé studied the map before tapping her finger on an empty spot. Aligning her ruler on two dots to form a nice straight path. Making them touch. Running her pen down quickly from one edge to the other. Creating a nice thick line in purple glitter gel.
“Sweetbrier Shop to Rivington Street,”
Victims of hit and runs and cheap robberies in the near-by liquor store. She almost got stabbed there once, but she left the fight as if it was just a light scratch. Nothing too major that this hero and a first-aid kit couldn’t handle.
Scratching the color on her key, writing a set of numbers behind it, then capping the gel pen when she was done. Her key grew to be a spectrum of colors with each crime listed. Each color marked off different dangers in the streets.
Tapping her chin with her ruler as she thought over the next points.
“Columbus Circle, Broadway, and Saint Nicholas Avenue,”
All hot spots for black market exchanges. Whether done by slipping it under one’s seat at showtime or in teens' backpacks when they walked home. Her suspicion was based on some loose tells by 'crackheads' and kids that believed something was off. Yet, what really tipped her off were the random addresses, pictures, and tickets she found after confronting that mob-boss. Well, more like lurking around their office till they came back. Long story made short, it was the most anxiety-filled 5 minutes of her life. A moment that some annoying kid from class still bugs her about.
Trying her best to logically connect them to the rumored case of human trafficking, but no vice.
Pulling out a bright lime sticky note from her desk. Noting the weak evidence behind this conclusion. Smoothing the sticky note on the wall to make sure the glue struck well on her poster. Applauding her organization before moving on to the other locations she had to check off.
Even since she came to New York with her mother, Chloé felt an urge to ‘promote’ herself. To prove everyone in Paris wrong. To make them see how much they needed her. To prove that she’s important to their stability. And when they cried for her to return, she would laugh and rub elbows with the western high class. Live in the beacon of the leading fashion trends, technological advancements, and the center of business.
Yet, when she stepped off that private jet- her fantasies were crushed.
Briskly enrolled in school again after the first weeks of setting in America. Given a uniform that clashed with her shoes. Forced into classes that she couldn’t choose (Who would think that every class would be at max capacity during the middle of the school year?) all with students that made her gag when around with. Total snots or geeks, if you ask her.
All and more as her private school crest was stamped on everything and anything. There were times where Chloé had to fight the urge to rip the ‘thing’ off.
So far, New York City wasn’t what she thought was gonna be.
All expect one class.
Political Tensions.
Honestly, she thought it would be a total snooze-fest, a slow recap on every famous war and battle. Yet, she was corrected the moment she stepped into the room. The professor managed to even get her interested in the subject.
Something that Ms. Bustier would applaud at.
From dissecting news reports or tall-tales, the professor made everything seem reasonable when the world proved to be not. Gossip or he-said-she-said silenced itself whenever they were around. The professor was known for dumping essays for their lack of sources. Wishing to read-only facts, why’s or analysis. Kicking out if's and but’s. Using the first five minutes to prep the class or go on tangents as they said the same thing but in riddles. Like the total hippie they were. Something that Chloé didn't really get.
Maybe it’s a cultural thing.
These tangents and riddles would be based on how society will see you one way and only one way. No matter what you do, you will always be the stereotype. This professor wanted the class to break that bubble. Chloé, a foreign rich girl, a nobody on the streets of New York, was expected to speak her mind when asked to and dissect each line as if it was the last word the author ever wrote.
To show that she isn’t a dumb blond or some foreign eye-candy.
Chloé wouldn’t budge with this, but with a classroom filled with people- she strongly dislikes as much as she liked the model of their watches- she wanted to be what they envied. Batting her curled eyelashes in satisfaction when the professor nodded to her answer.
Chloé raised her hand more when the tip of her tongue carried the answer, not caring if it was right or wrong because she knew it wasn’t wrong or it was just something important that had to be said. An idea worth breathing into the air. No matter what her mother said when she noticed all the books Chloé brought home or whatever side comments she heard as she left tutoring, she tried to prove them wrong.
Because they were and they are.
Studying the building blocks of war and politics. The field her father jumped in and out of.
From the Philippines ‘ deadly drug war that claims more than listed, rumored Russian hacking, Brazil’s burning, the US inconsistent investigation, and even her own country’s news- Chloé seems to understand more and more about the world she once thought was the size of a nutshell.
When really Chloé broke out of the eggshell she was sheltered in.
Her mother’s business trips to other companies and international nations didn’t do them justice. Showing the rich and their desk rather than the real people that were hidden in streets or offices.
“Roosevelt Avenue and Times Square, “
Talk was going around about risky projects taking place. Pinning two push-tacks instead of drawing a line between them. "More investigating need", she hummed. Nibbling the edge of her lips, tasting her gloss.
Stepping back from the wall, the blonde ate up her lips in anticipation. In front of her, the picture grew clear and neat. Even if to anyone else it resembled confusion. As if it was a nest of colored branches and loops. After the sixth step back, her back hit the table. Lifting it up before Chloé stepped away. Her pencil pouch spilling her mechanical pencils and pens. Letting them roll away before hitting her laptop. One that had ten different tabs checking the news and double-checking her numbers.
However, Chloé didn't turn to the mess behind her.
She was too busy awing her work.
The complete map of New York City- annotated with each important detail she discovered. Covered in lines and pins to indicate vices or crime scenes. Some colored lines extended out of the map. As if trying to touch the sticky notes or typed up reports on what she squished out of locals or from the internet. Chloe wasn’t a journalist, but she understood the appeal of piecing everything together. What was once an enigma was turning into a complete picture. No wonder that four-eyed nerd went crazy whenever she got a new scoop.
A smirk danced on her face before quickly switching it out for a frown. Ignoring the sour memories in her head, reminding herself of her plan. There was a new objective at hand.
New York was getting a new hero.
Not a movie coming in theaters soon or another comic book hitting the shelves (though she wouldn’t mind if she was the muse for one).
New York City was getting a new super-hero.
A savior, if you will.
One that would do the people justice. By the people. For the people.
Unlike a certain pig-tailed scrub back at home.
#mircaulous ladybug#ml#chloe bourgeois#chloe's path to good#my new tag whether I write Chloe Turning good#she is still my brat#ml fic#fIC#ml au#i haven't watched the new episodes so I been writing to ignore all of yall#seriously too many spoilers#bIG sad#queen bee#miraculous ladybug fanfiction#fanfic#my writings#my fic
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