#i did the site skin and banner this year :)

[moawling]

HOORAY! It's Pixel Day on Newgrounds!

#Pixel Day is a special holiday dedicated to pixel art!! check it out!! #i did the site skin and banner this year :) #PixelArt #Pixel Art #pixel animation #aesprite #newgrounds

[chrissshub]

AND ON THAT NIGHT

°❀°•༢ ❥SYNOPSIS: With his account just a few cents from a negative, Toji turns to his favorite site to ease his woes. Until a certain ad gains his attention...and feeds his need for cash. He'll just meet up with a lonely lady who's half a mile away!

°❀°•༢ ❥PAIRINGS: : widow!fem!reader x toji fushiguro

°❀°•༢ ❥CW: : 9.2k words, pwp, dubcon(?), mentions of death, age gap (toji’s 35, reader’s 27), use of pet names, implied mommy kink, grinding, teasing, n*pple play, oral(f. receiving), power play, c.eating(?), toji's mean, use of protection, I'm probably forgetting some but that's the gist

°❀°•༢ ❥WORDS FROM CHRIS: : Man...I wrote and that's how we got here.

the man for hire m.list

“Damnit…���nother day and I’m still broke.”

It’s easy to say that Toji is stuck in a trance as his dead eyes are pinned to the bolded words in his palm.

CHECKINGS: XXXX

BALANCE: ¥ 0.45 

Toji’s thumb has yet to leave the screen of his phone, the illuminated screen shouting back at him. He’s dragging along the cracked surface like he’s looking for something—something that would change his life right at that moment. 

He’s so ingrained in his search that he’s managed to drown out his current reality—seated on the empty late-night train tracing around Tokyo with only himself to claim as baggage. He’s even got earbuds in too, though the only sound in his ears is the tugging clash of the train running along the tracks. 

He pulls the hand braced along his knee to comb the messy black crown of his hair, brushing back thick strands away from his strained eyes. 

It’s a hard pill to swallow and the only urge Toji has at that moment is to spit it out and crush it beneath the heel of his black leather work boots. But for now, he’s settling for the warmth of the train cart for peace of mind.

Toji leaned back into his seat, tugging at the gray fabric of his thermal bunched along his chest. His eyes shift from his phone to anywhere other than his despairing reality, only to catch his reflection in the train window. 

It’s a sight to take in—his fair skin smooth and polished, his black hair frazzled due to his touch. There wasn’t a lick of hardship to be found within his visage—all except for his eyes, of course. 

His once vibrant azure hues now mimic that of the night sky. He’s alive on the outside but akin to that of a zombie within his soul.  In his very seat, he’s sitting there dead to himself and dead to his surroundings.

So much potential burns at the palm of his hands but opportunities have yet to appear to Toji. So much time and years have passed, and not a single one caught up to him to reap some reward. He could sit here and think about all of his life choices, but he knew better than to dwell on what couldn’t be fixed.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t pout for a minute, though.

“What a life…” he utters, bringing a hand to wipe over his tired features, leaving the rough thick tips of his fingers to pinch along the bridge of his nose. 

“How did I get here? Strapped for cash and livin’ on the lam…just perfect.” 

Toji knew one thing though—he needed a get-rich-quick scheme quickly. Not for millions, just enough to get him by and afloat.

His eyes settled back onto the blackened screen of his phone, racking through his brain to decide what could ease his monetary woes: XXXHub. 

No matter his mood, Toji can always count on his favorite porn site to brighten his mood. All he needed was a quick peek at the newly uploaded filth that awaited him. 

His thumbs went to work, clicking on one of the bookmarks to bring him to XXXHub’s homepage. The grin that glows upon his features is devious but the thoughts that swirl his brain surpass all curls of his mouth.

He was already scrolling through the categories, deciding which one would be his sin for tonight…that was true until a certain blinking red banner beneath the website’s logo caught his regard.

“FUCK A LONELY LADY AND GET PAID TODAY! SHE’S 0.7KM AWAY!”

“Hm…” he mumbles through a tightened pout. “Is that all I gotta do for a quick dump of cash?”

The title piques Toji’s attention, earning a sharp arch of his brow. In better days, he knew better than to click on links like this, but with the reality he’s living in, the risk of a virus is worth it. 

And so…he did it. His thumb—without a lick of hesitancy in sight, clicks upon the blinking banner, navigating him to a home page of profiles and a lengthy explanation. 

“Fuck a pretty lady right now! These women are all lonely and can’t please their poor pussies anymore :(!

They’re all alone and begging for your cock! So scroll down and pick whose bed you’ll end up in tonight!”

Toji merely shrugs his shoulders as he begins his search, his eyes scanning through the first page of profiles. He taps, he huffs, and he flips through all the options, eagerness bubbling deep within his belly. How could he choose between all the pretty faces, the perfect tits, and racy lingerie? 

“God these women are perfect! She’s got a cute face…that’s a nice ass…and oh…who’s this? She’s a real pretty broad,” Toji drones as he taps the profile. 

He couldn’t explain it, the sudden gravitation to the woman on his screen. She has a single picture on her profile—a mirror picture of her in a black silk robe.

Whatever expression she wore was hidden behind the sleeved arm of her robe, leaving just her eyes to view. Her hues told Toji a different story, a look of innocent doe eyes pawing on his heartstrings. This—this site, this kind of exposure wasn’t her cup of tea. She isn’t like the other hundreds of other women who had their legs spread first for the camera.

In search of learning more about his new beau, he lingers down on the woman’s biography, his lips reading the words aloud. 

“I’m Y/N, 27 years old, and a widow. My husband died a few years ago…that got dark real fast…and I haven’t had a man in my life since. I’m not looking for anything serious, just for the night. If interested, please call the number below and…I’ll be paid handsomely?!?”

“I’m handsome…and she’s gonna pay handsomely?!… She’s mine!”

That last sentence is all Toji had to read before sending his fingers to race across the screen. He simply had to take up the deal before anyone else did. If all he had to do was fuck a pretty girl for his account to finally see a change, he would’ve done it years ago.

Toji flipped between apps, punching in each digit of the phone number carefully. A set of sweaty palms and a shaky grip soon creep over him. Nervousness, something Toji hasn’t felt in years. Him? Nervous to call a woman? He didn’t know what to expect, whether he’d be welcomed by the mere sound of his voice. Should he try to sound different?  It’s a long shot but with his pockets running on empty, anything’s worth trying. 

With a heavy chest, Toji gave the phone number a series of checks to make sure he got every digit right before clicking the awaiting green button of fate. Bringing the phone to his ear, Toji brought his attention to his reflection once more, taking in the reality of his choice.

One ring. Two rings. Three—

“Hello?” The voice purrs into Toji’s ear. 

His grip on the phone grows heavy, the color of his skin fading to a ghostly white. Toji swallowed down the lump in his throat, searching for the words to begin his first impression. 

“Hey! I’m calling for the ad on uh…phew…XXXHub…I just wanted to see if you were willin’ to…y’know…have me for the night?”

All Toji can hear is the sharp huff of your breath before his question gets an answer. 

“I’ll text you the address. If you can be here in the next 30 minutes, I’ll add 10,000 yen to the overall pay.”

With that, the call went dead, leaving Toji with furrowed brows, widened eyes, and his mouth agape.

“She didn’t even ask for my name…she must be as crazy as me.”

Deep in thought, the flicker of a text message caught Toji’s eye. 

(XXX)XXX-XXXX:

108 Minato-Ku, TO

I’m on the 45th Floor.

“Minato? She’s the next stop!” Toji rises to his feet upon the realization, his hand bracing around the steel pole for balance. 

To his luck, the train slowed its pace to enter the station of Minato, the blur of the concrete platforms gaining clarity. The doors opened in time for Toji’s newly encouraged stroll as he planted his foot onto the yellow line. Excitement courses through his veins as Toji begins his perilous walk. He inhales the cool Tokyo night breeze, staring down his phone once more. 

“Time to get rich ‘nd laid!” 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 1:14 A.M.

Your eyes stare at the digital numbers illuminating your phone screen. He called at one and in the fourteen minutes that’s passed, all you’ve done is roam about the penthouse living. 

“He’s coming…he’s actually coming! I–”

“Uh Ms. Y/N?” a voice on the intercom interrupts your nervous ramblings. The call grabs your attention, urging you to walk towards the elevator doors. Your finger pressed against the red response button, prompting your reply.

“Yes?” 

“You have a guest coming up. Says his name is Toji. He’s tall, kinda an off guy, but he’s real attractive, so…have fun!”

“Oh um…t-thank you!” You stammered, leaving your teeth to sink into your bottom lip. It was one thing to have a complete stranger come into your home—but to have your doorman wish you a fun night was one for the books. 

Now, a mere few minutes stood between you and Toji— and the pummeling heartbeats flooding your senses didn’t begin to calm your nerves. Your eyes scanned over every inch of the living room, searching for some form of relief.

The comfort of your space quickly calmed your racing mind–the polished red granite floor, the fluffy tan pillows, and white throw blankets covering the espresso-colored sectional, and the glimmering chandelier hanging over the glass coffee table in the center. Your eyes fell onto the mirror along the wall, scrambling steps pitting you before it.

“Okay…I look great,” you hummed, scanning over your mirror’s reflection. A pink silk robe graced your body with a lacy black matching bra and panties hidden beneath. 

You’re so invested in your reflection that the common ring of the elevator doors falls on deaf ears–until what followed brought your blood to a stilled run.

“This is a nice place! I’ve only seen these places on TV, never thought I’d be seein’ it in real life!”

Your arms dropped to your side, allowing for the white polished tips of your nails to grab at the hem of your robe. You turned around to greet him head-on, yet all the words you had for him weathered down to a few jumbled thoughts. 

“Well…hello to you, too…what’s your name?”

He came to a standstill, turning around on his heels to meet you. His eyes widened in sheer awe at the sight of you, something he paired with a soft smile. 

“Toji, oh and…Hi!” He announced, tugging his hand out of his pocket to wave. “You’ve got a nice home, Y/N.”

“Thanks…” you push off as you direct Toji towards the sofa, seating yourself at the opposing side of the coffee table. 

“Please, have a seat. I didn’t think you’d get here so fast, I would’ve made tea or something to eat.”

“No need to do anything special for me, Pretty girl. You’re already helping me more than you know,” Toji grinned as he settled into the sectional, sitting opposite of you. 

A sly smile grew across your lips as his words filled the air. You turned away to avoid his gaze but it wasn’t enough for Toji to ignore. 

He leans back into the ribbed cushion of the sectional, his legs spreading apart to mirror his newfound comfort.

As his arms stretch along the backing, Toji’s head fell into a tilt as he took in the full sight of you at last—glossy lips, smooth skin hidden behind that pesky robe he wishes you’d lose already, and all the curves he’s dying to get his hands on. But before he could, Toji knew he had to warm you up to some extent. 

“So…I know y’re husband died, sorry ‘bout that. I bet he’s looking down at the pretty lady he left behind.”

You shrugged his courtesy off, “It’s alright. The pain’s washed away and I just keep moving on. Can’t dwell on it forever.”

“I feel ya, just keep on moving.”

“You…understand?”

”Lost my first and second wife…trust me, I know.”

A shrouding silence falls over you both, with just the subtle stifled breaths filling the tense air. Putting aside his wary means of kindness, you were finally able to gawk at the strange man you’ve allowed to enter your sacred world.

Your sights finally meet Toji’s, the two curious gazes softening with each passing moment. Per the doorman’s warning, Toji truly was attractive. Tall, black hair that fell just short to the curves of his ears, azure eyes perfect for the job of enchanting, and that scar along his lip piqued your interest in him more than it should. Just his demeanor alone—the blend of a bold, menacing confidence carrying a timid wave to wash over you. 

Until Toji’s musing finally cuts the awkward tension in half.

“Y’know…I’m just thinking…this is a really nice place,” he notes as he stretches his thumb to graze along his jaw. 

“Yeah, Toji, thanks, you said that already,” you huff.

“But listen, I’m thinking…why don’t we…extend our deal? Would you be willing to have me…past tonight?”

Your lips don a growing grimace, your eyes narrowing a taunting squint.

“That’s not what we agreed on.”

Toji’s hands immediately shot up in defense, waving the invisible flag of surrender. 

“Yes, you’re right. But think about it, I’m a pretty clean guy—keep myself groomed if I do say so myself. And I’d be here to fulfill any and all of your needs. I can even be your bodyguard! I know some creeps try to throw themselves at you—“

“Like what you’re doing right now?” You shot back, folding your arms against your chest.

All Toji conjures is a smirk, ���Can’t be a creep if I’m here to fuck you, Pretty. But I like the sassy attitude….Like I was saying…I can just…protect you. Plus, you can take down that ad and save yourself the hardship of dealing with another me.”

“And how do I know you’ll be any good at pleasing me?”

That’s when a heavy scoff—dark, heavy, and accursed with scorn rang from Toji’s lips. It was almost your question just pricked at his pride, using his laughter to protect the endangered sanctum of his ego. 

He broke away from your stare, leaving you to study him instead. He plows his palm to his chest, lazily dragging those rough digits of his to delineate along the hidden contours of his abdomen, right down to rest atop the peeking glint of his belt buckle. 

“I told you to trust me either, didn’t I?” He rasped lowly.  “I know your type and let’s just say it’s my weakness. I’m gonna please you, sweetheart. Just keep your end of the deal and we’ll be getting along.”

“Someone’s cocky, and what do you mean you know my type?”

“You’re doing too much talking,” he gripse, “And not enough thinking. I just offered to be your personal toy, what’s your answer gonna be?”

You hold back any thought to ridicule Toji further, your teeth sinking into the plush of your bottom lip. He wasn’t playing around anymore, not with that blooming dark glint blending with the denim blue hue of his eyes.

“I’m assuming you still expect to be paid?”

“Naturally. I don’t need a fortune, just enough to stay afloat.”

The tips of your fingers drummed along the wrinkled leather cushion as you mulled over Toji’s demands. It wasn’t a bad deal, you both did gain something in the end. It feeds whatever he was looking for and it strangely calms some of your nerves.

Maybe having Toji would finally ease your nerves about having a man around again. His conditions truly brought some security to you and your home—unless he planned on robbing you. 

You give him one final glance over—hinging over his own tantalizing stare. A risk to say yes, but something told you it’d be a bigger risk to let him walk out once the time came. 

“Fine,” you sigh, “ We have a deal, but the second I even sense that you’re crossing the line, you’re done.”

Toji lays his hand onhis chest once more, huddled over his heart. “You have my word. I won’t do more than what you tell me. But now that we’ve struck a deal…I think we should celebrate.”

Toji pats at the empty spot beside him, the leather reverberating his taps softly into the air. “Anyways, don’t you wanna come sit…near me at least?”

“That’s..fair,” you agree, standing from your spot on the couch. 

A few sauntering steps bring you to sit beside Toji, leaving just inches of space between you both. You couldn’t even begin to look at him, but the heat of his stare is harderto ignore. He’s taking you in, better than the cryptic profile photo online could ever present you. 

The weight of the cushions shifted slightly as Toji leaned in towards you, finally fixing his sight over you entirely. 

“This is your first time doing something like this, isn’t it?”

“No… What if I’m just quiet in nature?”

A gentle chuckle flooded Toji’s chest. “If you were naturally quiet, we wouldn’t be here right now. This isn’t your type of thing, I know. But hey…” Toji trailed off. 

To lure your attention, he places an outstretched finger to nuzzle along the curve of your chin, forcing you to face him without room for interference. 

“You’ve got me now.”

The scent of mint floods your nose, accompanied by the robust musk of a cologne. He was so close, and with the stare he voluntarily pulled you into, you had no choice but to bear him for all he was.

A man with such flawlessly fair skin, seemingly invigorated with a refreshing glow. His brows were thin and groomed from what could be seen, hidden behind the fluffy onyx strands of hair. His lips plump, brushed with a sheer coat of pink as he bared a faint smile towards you.

And right there on the corner of his mouth was a rough scar, a crude memory that now complements his charms; the same charm that struck you with awe. He barely had a hold over you, yet you were melting into his whims quicker than you could even begin to think. 

Toji’s free hand came to lay along the curve of your thigh, his thick, calloused palm settling into the warmth of your supple skin. You study his hand carefully—his hand’s easily twice the size of your own, shaped by rough skin and faded scars.

Though, Toji carries a gentle touch, so gentle that the nerves under your skin prickle with sheer anticipation. Your gaze flows from Toji’s hold, leading your sights to meet his own.

“This is a better look on you, Princess. Think we can get a little more comfortable?”

“I think we can do that,” you grin, freely leaning into Toji’s care. Your arms are quick to fold around the nape of his neck, leaving Toji to close the distance as he leads you onto his lap. His hands cup at the hem of your pink robe, the pads of his fingers teasing to slip beneath. 

“You said you’re gonna be able to pleasure me, right? Then…do it, I’m letting you take control,” the astute words rolling off your tongue. 

“Oh, I like you already!,” Toji smirks, the scar on the corner of his lip curling. 

His hands slipped from your back to the rich heft of your ass, his digits finally kneading at the silky plush. “Tell me what you like, or we can spend all night figuring it out together. It’s not like we’re rushing to go anywhere.”

Hearing Toji’s question brought a flickering heat to swarm your cheeks. But you’ve picked up on one thing thus far with Toji—he didn’t have a single care for what could be vulgar, or lewd—he just wants what’s real and raw. 

“Um…well I like being touched…like what you’re doing now. I really like kisses, I-“

Toji nuzzles himself into your chest, his breath fanning over your skin. 

“So…you like kisses like this?” His lips settle against the crook of your neck. 

His efforts were nothing short of delicate, his lips painting peppering pecks about your skin like a brush to a canvas. 

“J-Just like that,” you mutter, your hands bracing the weakened collar of Toji’s shirt. 

Your hands slip away from the nape of his neck to cup his face, gently prying him from his splayed mess of kisses. Within your hands, the cushions of your digits are careful to stroke along the contours of his jaw. But your touch wanders a little higher, hovering over his lips. The pad of your thumb sits along his bottom lip, wiping away the glossy sheen of spit. 

 Toji’s eyes remain on you, intrigued by your developing notion. His hands kept busy to ground his drifting mind, roaming about to brace your arching spine. The pit within his stomach churns with suspense, yearning for that fragile touch of yours to engulf him in a world far away from his own. 

“What do you wanna do? Got my attention now, Princess.”

“Tell me what you like,” you croon with a winding smile on your lips. 

The faint flare of rouge sprinkled across the highs of Toji’s cheeks, his swollen lips bearing a gaping ‘o’. 

“Oh, you don’t gotta worry about me—”

“But I want to. So…I’m waiting to hear something.”

“Just making you cum is all I want. Don’t worry much about me, you hired me, remember?”

“That’s not the answer I want,” you brood with a pout.

“But that’s the answer you’re gonna get. Trying to spoil me, huh? ‘M not used to that these days,” he murmured as he pressed his pursed lips against your thumb. 

“Guess I’ll just have to learn, I’m excited too though,” you smile.

“I’m not gonna make it—“

Before the next word could roll off his quipped tongue, you push a kiss onto Toji’s lips, your fading smile buried within the slew of lust.

You couldn’t have imagined Toji’s lips to be so soft against your own. He’s mimicking your every move, welcoming a fluid tide crashing the two of you. When you push, he pulls with just enough force to leave you chasing for more. 

Your tongue swipes along his bottom lip, inducing a shy whimper to trickle from his throat. He tows you in that much closer, desperately trying to contain himself within your care. Your chest smothers against his, the laggard breaths filling his lungs. 

Toji gives into you as your tongue slid over his. He couldn’t help it, greedily coiling the slicked flat around your own. It’s selfish to drag you into his sick urges, but with the way you fit in his hands, your lips dancing with his own, and god—your tongue rolling over his like a binding knot, apologies were nowhere near due. 

In the heat of it all, you pull away for a moment’s breath—but not without sealing Toji’s tongue between your lips, suckling at the limp muscle.  

Breaking away from the messy kiss you’ve fallen into, your thumb drums along Toji’s cheek, his fluttering eyes opening to reveal a lust-blazoned glow. 

“Guess you like kisses too,” you chuckle, planting a peck along the highs of his flushed cheeks.

“Fuck, I can’t take it, where’s your bed?” he hounds, adjusting you in his hold.

Toji lifts you with sinful ease, your legs instinctively lacing around his waist.

You bury your head in the crook of his neck, taking in the intoxicating 

“It’s the door down the hall, you’re already staring at it.” 

Your muffled words guide Toji down the dimmed hallway towards your bedroom door, nudging his knee at the agape door to expose the sanctuary of your bedroom. 

“Wow, got a nicer room here than out there,” Toji marveled as he stood over the bed. He laid you down onto the plush white blanket, the shape of your body imprinting into the fluffy white weft. 

“Thank you,” you smirk as you perch yourself onto your elbows, peeking up at Toji as he tends to himself. He works quickly to rip the gray henley shirt from his waist over the top of his head off and onto the wine-carpeted floor of your bedroom. 

Toji’s hand sits along his stomach, wiping his broad digits across the defined cuts of his abdomen—earning a well-deserved gaze from your hungry eyes. 

“Go on, I know you wanna touch me,” he hints as he dips his body over yours. You drop onto the bed, your hands pawing at the vast hull of Toji’s chest as he traps you beneath him. The sheer warmth of his skin lulls you further into his captivating hold. You found yourself in a hypnotic state the more your hands explored along Toji’s bare skin. 

“I know that look—you like what you see, don’t you Angel?” Toji sneered as his fingertips reached out to your visage, stroking the back of his digits along your cheek. 

“I-I don’t know what to say, I—“

“So…don’t. Don’t say anything. Just…kiss me like that again…please,” Toji pleads, his puffy lips brushing against your own. 

A weary grin teases your lips to curl as you nod, your arms encircling Toji’s neck. You oblige with a light peck before dragging him back down into the dizzying bliss he’s begging for. 

Just an hour could have passed since Toji’s met you and already he’s bound himself to you just like that. He can’t understand why either—it’s just a kiss. Yet he can’t remember the last time when a kiss like this held him captive, wanting more with each passing second.

It’s just a kiss but he can’t bring himself to stop pouring pitiful whimpers when your tongues coiled around each other. It’s just a kiss and he’s losing himself to the flourishing desire you draw out from the depths of his being. 

Well…almost losing himself. 

His hand breaks away from the caress of your features, sending those heavy digits to drift across the silhouette of your body. His wandering touch made itself just shy of your panties, the lacy edge grazing against his fingers. 

But he’s careful not to break the seal that barriers your navel from the heat between your legs. Rather, he finds himself crumbling what bits of fabric he can between his fingers tips, tugging the panties taut against your cunt. 

A lewd wince breaks from your lips, and a smile cracks along his own. 

“Aww, you like that?” Toji hums, “Think you’ve got something to tell me?”

 You can only stare at Toji with a mouth wearing a witless gape as he continues to tease you, yanking at your panties with no end in sight. He’s lazy with it but that doesn’t mean it’s not without intent. He’s intending to work those thin panties of yours to slip past the fat lips of your cunt and fixing whatever friction he can build to drive right up against your poor clit.

Your hand races to find some way to end his selfish exposé, nails clipping into the worked bulk of his forearms. Yet the words you want to say to him come out in nothing but broken gasps and whimpers. 

He’s leaving the comfort of your lips for something new, laying a trail of kisses down to your chest. Gently, he brings his free hand to your breasts, pushing away the annoying robe to slip his hand into the cup of your bra.

You’re so soft, such delicate skin shouldn’t have been handled by a man such as he, but for the sake of pleasing you, he’ll ignore it for tonight. 

He slowly guides the pillowy plush from behind the pesky bra, your tits sitting pretty for his sore eyes to take in. A sight just for him but he can’t help but to drag that tongue of his past your nipple, smirking at how the decadent buds stiffen between his lips. 

Toji pulls away with a lewd ‘pop’, overlooking at  your poor nipple twitches in the room’s cool air. He carries his fingers to draft along the curve of your tits, mindless strokes leading him to roll out the stiffened peaks for his ministrations all over again.  

But he isn’t satisfied by this game, his brows furrowing into a knot. His hues shoot your tested stare—his eyelids heavy enough to squint but fluttering just enough for you to absorb the full intent behind his eyes.

“Oh, ‘m trying so hard to be nice, Y/N, swear I am. ‘Til you tell me what you want, just gonna keep teasing you,” he sing softly as he welcomes your nipple into the gummy hollows of his mouth once more. 

”O-Okay okay, let me just—”

Toji’s impatient. He can’t wait for you to try and find the words, not when he knows they are sitting right there at the tip of your tongue. So he’s willing to help you draw it out—by using his own tongue to suck at suckling at the roused bud of your nipple as you speak. 

“Wait, Toji ‘m trying!” You whine, tightening your grip along his forearm.

“Try harder, ‘m not the one making a mess.”

Your hand search for his wrist, lithe digits binding around him. The hold he has over your panties loosens as you pull his hand to sink past the soiled cotton triangle at last. 

“Please…touch me.”

A chuckle cracks within Toji’s throat, “That’s what I’ve been waiting for—Tch, really making me work for my pay.”

Without another word breaking into the air, Toji’s fingers work themselves into a sweeping whirl about your clit. He’s so soft, using a feather-like touch to ease the roused bundle of nerves into his trust. 

He’s painfully tender from what his mouth leads on, leaving his fingers to drift past your fold and pinned to the stingy slit of your pussy. The tip of his digit pecks at your hole, coaxing your walls to accept his touch. 

Bit by bit he’s slipping in, stuffing your pussy with the overwhelming girth of his digits. He reaches your sweet with disgusting ease, he would curse his luck if he wasn’t so focused on the cute faces befalling your face.  

But there was one in particular that he’s fond of—your eyes rolling back into your skull, your swollen lips pursed onto a quivering frown. Your hands can’t seem to decide where to rest, both palms grasping onto his surging forearm—as if that was really enough to stop him.  

“This is all you wanted, isn’t it, Princess? You aren’t that mean, just can’t use those hands of yours to touch yourself like you need to. Let me fix all that for ya,” he hums, pressing a kiss onto your cheek.

But Toji doesn’t just stop there. He’s reeling away from your side completely, standing at the foot of the bed with his hands bracing along the contours of your waist.

“C’mon, lift your hips,” his digits tugging at the elastic waistband trolling your hips. 

You bring a finger to sit against your lips, biting down on that digit as you follow his words. 

The rough edges of your panties sting your legs as Toji pulls the gossamer cloth from its post at your hips and off onto the floor. 

He drops to his knees, his hands cupping the supple underside of your thighs. Toji doesn’t give you the chance to retaliate or rebel, pushing your legs to swell against your chest. 

“Be nice and hold your legs back fr’ me, won’t you? Need both my hands for this.”

A hum serves as your response as you replace Toji’s brash embrace around your legs with your own, mustering up all your strength to fulfill his wish. 

And Toji was right, he did need both his hands—setting a hand to your hip to keep you at bay and a hand draped over the sticky, plush mounds of your cunt. He’s splitting the dripping mess of your lips apart, just to gawk at what’s become of you. 

He bit back any words that came to mind, they were all just going to come out as mindless drivel anyway. He didn’t know where to start, especially when your pussy’s already blooming beneath his very eye. 

It’s so lewd the way he catches everything; the sticky wispy threads of glass barely keeping your lips nuzzled together, how your slit gasps for attention, eager to be filled all over again, and how your clit erupts into anxious twitches over desperate anticipation. 

He’s itching to feel you, that’s the reason his digits ghost along the plushy bead, trailing his touch to sink past your silky folds. 

But there’s something missing from this equation…

“Y/N?” he breaks out lowly. 

“Yeah?” 

“Can’t see you, mama. Spread those legs open too, ‘kay?” he whispered as he laid his cheek against your thigh.

“Mmhm, Toji, you tease me too much.” That still didn’t stop you from parting away your trembling thighs off your chest, and onto the dipping stress of the bed.

 Toji greets you with a ruined smile, “See, that’s so much better. Plus…I love an audience.”

The words ready to slip off your tongue opted for a breathless moan the second Toji delves into you, his warm breath covering you. He starts off so considerate with you, peppering kisses from the flushed bud down to your gummy slit. His kiss is challenged by the introduction of his tongue, languidly flushing out your folds as your slick drenches his senses. 

Toji’s working his lolling tongue into steady strides, coiling at the burning nerves to catch every drop of essence driping from you. His nose knowingly bumps at your clit through all this, earning a slew of scattered moans to chime from your lungs and into the air. 

“O-Oh! Mmm fuck, Toji! Feels ‘s good!

“Aww, I know it is, Princess, ‘m hearing you sing my name after all.”

But what Toji’s after is more–more of that pretty voice of yours crying out his name, more your sweet flooding his mouth, and more of those cute twitches drumming against his lips. So when he’s finally ready to pay your clit well-deserved attention, Toji’s head falls into a tilt to close any possible gap. He’s serious about no distractions, he wants every drop of you he can get. 

That’s why he’s pecking at the raw bulb, teasing your clit into a false sense of security. He’s so sweet with it, just barely pushing back with his kiss. He lets the pearl press up against his plush lips for a change, just teasing the hungry confines behind his supple curves.  But it’s that final tender display is when Toji’s trap falls into place, enveloping the perked bud behind the lush seal of his lips. 

He wastes no time to draw your clit into the pulsing stream, Toji sucking at the bundle of nerves. He’s not too hard, but he’s not playing coy either. Rather, he’s eager enough to invoke your clit into a silky swell, with methods that suit only his whims. 

He’s so messy with it too, allowing spools of spit to drip from the corners of his mouth.  Squelches ring from the filthy scene—but he makes them even louder just for your ears to hear by ending each reeling tide with a ‘pop’ of lips. He could stop to clean himself up, but what was the point? Laving your clit in the lewd cocktail of his spit and your sweet honey made it all worthwhile. 

“T-Tojiii,” you draw out, “ I-I’m…’m fucking gonna cum, pleeeease don’t stop!”

A frigid heat washes over your body, the pit in your tummy stirring with an addictive pull. There’s a weight befalling your entire body, the building high within your core pinning you to the bed. If only he knew just how close you were, maybe he’d take some pity and help you out more–but you knew that was out of the question. 

But with desperation taunting your blank mind, you only had one solution to rely on. 

Even though Toji’s hand clings to your hips, he doesn’t stop you from all movement. And with how his tongue laps at your clit in between his taunting treatment, it was the perfect chance to ease your hips into a messy cadence, your hips driving your pussy to ride against Toji’s tongue. 

Your pussy paints a salacious story all over Toji’s face. Your slick glosses over his lips, a sloppy one too, just how he’s grown to like it coming from you. Your essence paints his lips, chin, and even the tip of his nose alike in your glossy veil. 

It’s almost like Toji’s receiving a kiss back when your hips start to rock against him. It’s disgusting but his eyes are trained to capture every detail. The stutter in your rhythm whenever you nudge against too hard, or those trembling strands of your slick that drips from the tip his nose whenever your hips drawback too far.  

“T-To-ojjjiii, ‘m g-gonna cum!” 

Every one of your moans hits Toji hard, that dominating nature he wears only ebbs the longer he’s nuzzled between your thighs. He can’t think straight, not with the throbbing pangs trapped behind his pants. 

He isn’t one to chase after his own urges during a time like this, but you simply have that effect on him. He has to do something, or else he’d make such a pitiful mess of himself.

He’s placing a hand right on your tummy, using just enough force to pin you down while his other hand races to fidget with the buckle of his jeans. It’s a hard but successful struggle when he yanks the metal clasp off his hips, allowing him to unbutton his pants. 

His hand ravages across every inch of his cock, his fist strumming from the base to the weeping tip. He gives the head just a good enough squeeze to ground him, but it’s a fleeting dream when his lips catch your clit in his lips once more.

A merciful whimper croaks from behind Toji’s lips, he hopes you’ll forgive him but if he doesn’t do something more than just squeeze at himself, he’ll burst sooner than planned. 

And you, well you have no idea of the struggle you’ve put on him, and Toji knows this. He can see it on your face—donning that cute look he’s fond of. You finally found relief and he was selfishly chasing it right beside you. 

That building guilt isn’t much of a hindrance though, and it certainly doesn’t stop Toji’s thumb from swiping along the heavy underside of his cock, bringing the flustered nerves lining his fat girth to a brimming stir. 

“Go head, baby. ‘m right here to clean up your mess,” he whimpers, sending his hips to buck up into his sheathed fist. 

Toji uses your undoing as a distraction from his own as his lips bear one last stride of your hips. You fall back onto the bed, your legs slamming shut from hungered efforts.

Toji grins to himself as he pulls away from you, leaving just one final kiss to skim over your quivering clit. He picks himself from the floor, standing over you with a softened stare. 

Your arms drape over your face, covering your eyes behind the sleeves of your robe as you struggle to grapple with steady breaths. You look so peaceful coming down. Toji really doesn’t wanna disturb you, but the pangs wrecking his cock tells him otherwise.

“Hey, hey, can’t pass out on me yet. Still got more for you, Angel,” he calls out, resting his hand over your heaving belly. 

“O-Oh, right. Almost forgot ‘bout that,” you chuckle, sighing as you sit up to face Toji.

And you really did want to, but something else grabbed your attention quicker than he did. 

A stretching wet spot on his pants, bounding your hand to mend his troubles. 

You crawled onto your knees towards Toji, closing the gap between you both. Your hand moves on its own, gravitating to the opened clasp of his pants. With his briefs in tow, you tug the remaining clothes down his legs with Toji slipping out of the restricting confines at last. His hands fold behind his back, his sign of giving you free-range over him. 

“Whatcha gonna do with it,” Toji muses as he casts a heavy stare over you. 

Before you could even think to reply, your eyes swarm over Toji’s cock, hinging on its upright curve. There’s a happy trail that leads right down to the base, the thick gathering of hairs neatly trimmed.

He’s big, from each inch he carries to the fat bulgy girth, even his twitching red tip’s thick enough to flood in your mouth with ease. Even now, the veins melding into your twitch, coaxing rivulets of white to bud from his slit. With nowhere else to go, each drop runs along his underside, curling at the heavy swell of his ball and landing on the bed's blanket. 

“You’re making a mess on my bed, Toji.”

“Oh..’m s-sorry, Miss. Can’t help myself, y’know? Your hands are so soft and I…”

Your finger swipes at the spilled tears, drifting that sullied finger to your lips. You peer up at him, just for his deprived sights watching your every move. He’s biting down on his bottom lip as he observes, failing at holding back those whimpers leaking from his throat. 

“I’ll clean up…just this once,” you purr, pressing the pad of your digit to your tongue. The rich swirl of salt coats your mouth and numbs your senses. The drops of precum melt nicely along your tongue, down to the last drop as you wash away his presence with a loud gulp.

“Oh f-fuck…’m so sorry. Promise it won’t happen agai–”

The last word didn’t get the chance to finish off Toji’s mind before a striking tremor jolts through his cock. A river of white gushes from out his tip and onto the bed, sinking through the plush material. His poor cock’s weeping for that attention, just a taste would satisfy that burning—a taste that you also found yourself starved of.  

You roll your eyes at Toji’s pathetically faltered apology, setting your lustful eye back down onto the mess of his cock. White’s a good color on him, especially when it bled from his poor, dribbling cock.

Your digits grip the base of Toji’s cock, lazily pulling into a loose fist as you strum along his tanned length. That tip of his is just begging for attention, and you’re more than willing to serve it. You inch your lips closer to the blushing tip, but the sudden hand Toji places under your chin force your sights up at him and only him.

“Whatcha doin’ there?”

“I was gonna–”

“Ah ah, can’t let my pretty girl do such a dirty job. Just ignore it, I’m gonna cum soon anyways.”

You give Toji a stifled nod, your grip over his shaft fading away. For your cooperation, Toji blows you a kiss before reaching down for his pants, searching around in his pockets. 

He stands over you once again, this time with a gold foil between his fingers.

“Here,” he says, offering you the packaged condom. “Help me out ‘nd put it on for me, yeah?”

“Just the one?” You enquire, ripping apart the small foil square. 

You press the rim of the condom to the head of Toji’s cock, the slickened sheet of plastic rolling down his length. Yet the rolling momentum ends just shy of his base, the condom coming to a staggering halt. 

“Toji, it doesn’t fit,” you sigh as you pay him a stern glare. 

He simply cups your cheek, “No, it does. I’m just a little too hard for the condom to handle right now—but it’s not gonna break!” he’s swift to assure you as he tugs at the stressed slicked latex. 

“Alright whatever–” 

It doesn’t take long for Toji to hover over you, his arms caging you into his world. His brash entrance halts your sentence, but a new conversation takes place when your eyes fall in line with his. 

Toji flickers over you, his eyes tracing along every curve to be found on your body. You’re perfect, made just for him. His hand crowds along your waist, massaging the supple skin that melts into his grip.

“I don’t know why you hid your body under that robe, you’re perfect.”

“So you wanted me to answer the door naked?” You hinted, lacing your arms about the nape of Toji’s neck.

“Well if you did, things would’ve been a lot different, but let’s take this off.”

Toji hums to himself as he slowly drags the satin sleeves of your robe off your arms. He quickly bundles the silky fabric into a ball, tossing it out of mind and into the bedroom’s surrounding abyss.

He’s drunk off some carnal instinct as he settles onto the bed, his arms caging you into his world.

 This time, he’s the one with the feverish kiss, sending his tongue to grace the caverns of your mouth. 

Your legs tether around Toji’s hips, pitting his body flush against your own. The thick hull of his chest smothers against your own, but your hands race to outline his dewed skin.

His every breath, the drum of his heart, and the rippling twitch of muscles thaw in your palm. You’ve seen it since the night started, but now you’ve become more keen to study Toji’s body, tracing over his smooth skin adorned with scars.

“How’d you get these?” the question rolling off your tongue as you peer up to him.

“I’ll tell you one day, but for now, just focus on me,” he chuckles, stealing a kiss from your pouty lips. Sure, it’s not the answer he knows you’re looking for, but you’re the one staring at him with those pretty doe eyes, rubbing at his chest tenderly.

So it’s no shock that this time he’s the one with the feverish kiss, sending his tongue to grace the caverns of your mouth. He has a job to see through to the end, but for some strange reason, Toji can’t find the energy to part from your lips.

He’s adamant on keeping you under him too, at least for as long as the night wills. His arms bracket beside your head as he rests some of his weight over you, his body settling against your own. He slides his digits to your thigh, shifting your weakened legs to lace around his hips. 

“Mmph, Toji,” you moan as your arms coil along the broad of his shoulders. The weight of his cock sits homely between the puffy lips of your cunt, the weight mindlessly coaxing your hips to rock against him for some friction. 

Toji’s too ready to reciprocate, easing himself to accompany your lust-ridden rhythm. Your pussy paints him in the same wet kisses he held over you, sending the spry head of his cock into a sputtering frenzy.

“Mmhm–fuck..c-can’t wait anymore,” Toji seethes as he snakes a hand between your bodies. 

“Relax for me, ’m gonna go nice and slow,” he murmurs, drawing lazy circles with his tip as he aligns himself with your entrance.

It’s the crown of his cock that ruins you, the thick mushroom tip nuzzling to fill your hole. Toji’s ever so kind for your sake, using the gentle pace to coax your walls to his girth. Your pussy’s even got the nerve to tease him, singing those cute little wet hymns to welcome him.

An outpouring sob breaks Toji from your kiss, his head dropping beside the pulse of your neck.

“Oh f-fuuh—s-so tight, Princess! ‘Nd you’re squeezin’ me like that, fuuuck, Y/N!”

He’s hesitant to press on, relying on sheepish bucks to drive his cock deeper inside of you. But Toji’s so slow that you can’t help but aid him, tilting your hips to ease his descent. 

The fat of his cock finds a way to fill your cunt to the hilt, Toji grinding his hips against your own. All you can do is rely on him to ground your fleeting sense of self, your nails decorating his arms in crimson crescents. 

“Ooooh! Mmm, Tojii, c-can't! ’s too much!”

“‘Shhh, ‘s okay, I got you,” he slurs as he lifts his head from the crook of your neck. His hazy eyes find yours, paired with a boyish grin. His hand comes to lay along your temple, reaching to pat at the top of your head

“ ‘n-nd you wanna cum again, right? ‘M gonna do that too, j-jus’ lemme fuck you.”

“O…okay,” you nod as the bubbly string of tears begins to stream down your puffy cheeks.

Toji babies you with kisses, distracting you from the slow reel his hips haul. But he's taking away that infectious stretch that sedated your walls just for the moment, carefully driving himself to the hilt again. You gradually let him have his way, this time his cock sitting between your walls with grace. 

“Think you’re ready to take it?” he checks, planting a kiss at the corner of your quivering jaw.

“Y-Yeah, I can take it.”

You said the words he needed to hear, Toji winding back this gracious for the last time tonight. You did say you were ready to take it—and that’s exactly what fuels Toji’s reckless symphony.

The barreling strength of Toji’s hips snaps against your own, painting bruises you’ll have to nurse when the time comes. It’s all dizzying—the heat fanning across your inflamed skin the building pressure in your tummy, all of it sends your mind to places beyond reach.

He’s not trying to do it, but every inch he bullies your pussy takes leaves your eyes to roll back into your head. He’s just so big, but with each stride of his hips, you’re taking him so much better, so much deeper than the last. 

And Toji knows how well he’s stuffing you too–why else would his ears be graced by the precious driveling babbles of your numbed mind? He knows, he knows—but do you know how much better you’re fucking him back?

Not with your hips, but the fluttering grip you keep him under is almost too much. He’s already flooding the strained condom with weeping tears of precum, but he can’t envision the moment when he’d be swept into his nirvana. 

And that’s a scary fact he has to swallow. 

“Mmhph, o-ooh...I-I can’t…I can’t do it!” his voice grunts, his hips fumbling to a shaky stop. Chills crackle all over his body, zapping away at his welled fervor. He fills your ear with nothing but hot pants— as if he’s desperate to catch his breath.

“T-Toji, you okay?” You croak, raking your digits through his hair.

He doesn’t respond.

“To–”

Instead of giving you an answer, Toji replies with another grueling drop of his hips.

And then another.

His hips swiftly fall back into the fiendish trance he donned earlier, draining your walls dry of resentment. He’s drunk off you–your heat, the velvet bliss of your snug walls, the way your pussy clutches around him when he’s working at your sweet spot. 

All the things he couldn’t afford to fall prey to. 

“Y’re gonna make me cum first. C-Can’t have that,” he whines in your ear as he reels back to rest on his haunches. He’s keeping busy with sending the mind-breaking girth of his cock to replenish your aching walls. He clips one hand to your waist, the other confronting the sweaty locks of hair that obstruct his front-row seat of your undoing. 

The pit of arousal rallies deep in your belly, the explosive burst being teased with each wet kiss Toji plants at your core. Your hand rushes to grasp at the thick of his arms, your nails digging into the flesh. It’s not enough to subdue that raging flame flickering about your walls, not when Toji laid claim to your sweet spot the way he did. 

“T-T-Toji, ‘y’re gonna—I’m…” you trail off as your teeth sink into your bottom lip. 

“Huh? Can’t hear you. Try again, Mama ‘m here waiting,” Toji taunts with a spiteful grin. 

“I’m cu–mmmph-!”

A white, hot streak breaks over you, claiming your body as its victim. Your eyes screw shut and suddenly everything is washed as white. You can’t think, can’t spell, you can’t do anything but revel in the arch-inducing high striking over you.

It’s an overwhelming wash that rings chills down your spine. Everything within you stalled—only for a sob to spill from your lolling tongue. As you come down, all you can form is broken breaths, your lungs chasing after the sex-stained air. 

Toji wants to make a slick comment about how cute you look with that fucked out face, but how can he when he’s finally spilling thick ribbons of white to flush the condom in his salacious shade. It’s taking so much out of him, so much that he’s hunched over you, burying his lips against your skin to conceal the shameful moan seeping from his lips. 

When he’s finally drained of all that pent-up stress, his hazy eyes weigh heavy with sleep. He steals a glance down at you, just to see how you’ve curled up on your side without him. 

Kissing his teeth, Toji swiftly pulls himself from your velvety walls, yanking the suffering choke of the condom from his length. 

Just as he thought—bleached white, but not a tear in sight. 

He ties a knot into the condom before reaching behind him to tuck the used covered back inside the foil. 

“Toji?” your voice cracks softly.

“Hm?” He laments as he collapses beside you, draping his arm along your hip. 

“Can you cook?”

“Huh?! I mean yeah, but why does—”

“Good, I’m expecting breakfast in the morning.” 

TAGS: @dana-fite @dabis0bitch @ladyackerman @bloobrryktty @ilaaishi @taesd-urag @tojibreedingme @lovemegood @pixelsanji @sleepy3 @slaughterakira @woahhajime @champagnej @shuxjodie @just-yer-average-key @bontensbabygirl @tojitsukaisen @serenareiss  @omniuravity @sweeneyblue1 @yukihime-mikeys-girl @kazusugar @jjjangsta @10-jiku @missyasma @a3trogirl @simpliheavenli @chaoticevilbakugo @luvrdrop @yourmommy52726 @widepipepaladiknight @tojishugetiddies @nekoriots @ladyackermann @tonaken @holychocopie @dukina @hon3ybee-3 @kensgff @humantrashcan2000 @batmanslittlelover @23victoria @sisnot @insideboburnham @shima707

#toji smut #toji x reader smut #toji fushiguro smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #toji fic #toji x reader #jjk toji #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji fushigro x reader #cw sex mention #cw smut #x fem!reader

[andydrysdalerogers]

Yours Submissively ~ Flee

Steve Rogers X OFC Isabella Davis

Summary: Five Years after the events of Civil War, Steve Rogers has moved on from avenging and has started his own business, Grant Inc. He has a secret that would turn his world upside down. And he's good at keep that secret. Until he meets the woman with violet eyes that could bring him to his knees. Now his mission is to make her, his. But she is the key that could bring the world into balance... or chaos.

And she has no idea.

Series Warnings: slow burn at the beginning, smut, angst, sexual themes of BDSM, dom/sub dynamics, kidnapping, loss of virginity, (and a bunch of others that will come up)

A/N: the taglist is open! And I AM SO SORRY! Happy Holidays!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Banners by me!

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

Previous: Education

Series Masterlist ~ Main Masterlist

“Sweetheart, come take a seat.”  Steve could see the anger boiling under the skin of his beloved.  This was exactly what he had been trying to avoid.  Fuck Sharon Carter for doing this to his girl but now he was concerned.  The HYDRA comment was concerning.  Belle allowed him to guide her to a seat.  

“Steve, what don’t I know?  I don’t understand why she would say these things.”  

“I know sweet pea, I can explain some of it. But I have a few questions.  Can I ask those first?” 

“As long as I get the truth, fine.”  

“What exactly did she say?” 

“She said she couldn’t understand how I weaseled my way into your life when I’m an orphan.  That I was the heir of a group who didn’t exist.  That my parents were murdered, and my dad was killed. And then she said those words.”  

Steve sighed and looked at his teammates. He looked back at his wife, noting that anger had turned to fear and anxiety.  He took her hands.  “Ok, baby, I don’t know why she said that phrase. That is something we are going to look into.” He looked at Bucky who nodded but Steve could tell he was holding back the ‘I told you so.’  

“Ok, but what about the rest of it.”  

“Sweet pea, I knew your father.”  

Belle felt like the floor was pulled from under her. “What?” 

Nat spoke up.  “He was an agent of SHIELD.  I worked very closely with him.” Nat has the decency to look contrite at the lie. 

“You worked with him.  You all knew him?” Belle tried to breathe. 

Steve took a deep breath.  “I met him when I first came out of the ice.  He introduced me to Nat and Tony right before the battle of New York. There was an incident on the ship we were on. Your father fought bravely.  

“He was fighting?” 

“He was, my love.  But unfortunately, the person he was fighting got the upper hand and he died. I am so sorry.”  

“How long did you know I was his daughter?” 

“Since that night we reunited, when you explained about your family.”  

Belle began to pace.  “My family.  My family that I know nothing about.” She saw a look cross Steve’s face.  “You know.  You know what Sharon is talking about, don’t you?”  She looked at the other Avengers in the room, Clint having slipped in as well.  “You all know.”  

Steve had a look of sorrow.  Had he been honest when they found out, maybe the look of anger, rage, pain, would not be crossing her face right now.  He sighed. “When the people tried to take you, there was a note delivered to Stark Tower.  The note asked for their heir to be returned.”  

“I don’t understand.”  

“Sweetheart, there is a reason Phil Coulson took you in after your parents died,” Bucky explained. “They were running and were in hiding. You somehow survived the crash and SHIELD took you in.”  

“Why?” Belle wiped away an errant tear from her face. “Who am I?” 

Steve looked into her eyes. “Your mother’s name is not Maria Davis.  Its Silvia Maria Pierce.  She was the daughter of Alexander Pierce, the former head of Hydra. You are the natural heir of HYDRA.” 

You could hear a pin drop.  Steve was sure Belle had stopped breathing.  

“Belle, honey,” Clint started, “please, breathe.”  

She got up and looked out the window, rain splattering the windows. “You knew this whole time and you didn’t think, maybe Belle should know.”  

“Sweet pea...” 

“Don’t fucking call me that,” she seethed.  “You all lied to me.  Does Tony know? Does Pepper? Wanda?” 

Steve looked to the floor. “Yes.” 

Just then, a figure in red and blue came in through the balcony.  “Hey guys,” as he pulled off his mask, “I don’t see any of...” he saw Belle.  “Oh.” 

“Peter?  You’re Spiderman?!?” 

“Belle, wow, umm, well...” 

“Lies.  I’m just surrounded by lies.”  She started to pace and began to panic. “You just let me out into the world, knowing this is way more than just a threat.  This is serious. Are they back?  Is HYDRA back?” 

“We don’t think they ever left.” Clint admitted.  “They’ve just been hiding.”  

“Hiding.  Clearly in plain sight since Sharon Carter has been in this building and she’s HYDRA!” Belle raged.  “You are all liars.”  

“Isabella, please be calm,” Steve implored.  

“Calm? I’ve give you calm.”  She slapped him. “That calm enough for you?  You had your former mistress in here, god knows what information she has taken; you continue to keep secrets from me.  Let me make it easier for all of you.  Stop worrying about me.”  She ran to the door.  “Fuck all of you.”  

Clint grabbed her arm.  That was going to be a mistake.  Belle swung around, elbowing him in the gut, broke the hold and kneed him before whirling out the door.  The elevator happened to be opening just as she made the lobby.  She pushed the button and the doors closed just as she saw Steve’s shocked face.  “Isabella!” 

Isabella took off her coat and pulled her hair into a bun.  She removed the glasses and the burner phone from her purse along with all the cash that she had.  The elevator doors opened to the lobby, and she sprinted out the doors, leaving the coat and purse inside the elevator.  She knew she had a limited window, but the rain would help. She was thankful for the boots she had changed into in the car as it allowed her to move.  She made it a few blocks over before jumping into a cab.  

Steve finally made it to the lobby but could not see his wife anywhere.  He glanced back to see the elevator door closing, spying her coat and bag.  He made it to the doors before they closed and checked.  Her wallet and phone were still in the bag, cash gone.  “Fuck!”  He picked up his phone.  “Bucky, she left everything.”  

Goddammit.  All the trackers were in her bag and coat.  Are the glasses gone? 

“Yes, dammit, her eyes will be covered now.” Steve ran a hand through his hair.  

Get back up here punk.  I’ve started the trace through the cameras. Steve took the elevator back up, picking up Belle’s things.  He could smell her perfume on the coat and inhaled.  God had he fucked this up. He could feel the ‘I told you so’ coming from the team but it would have to wait.  Finding her was more important.  He arrived on his floor.  

“Devon, you can go.”  

“Mr. Rogers, I’m sorry...” 

“No, none of this is your fault.  This was a long time coming.  Before you go, can you reach out to Tony and ask him to come?” 

“Mr. Wilson already had me call Mr. Stark.  He said he would be right over. Is there anything else, sir?” 

“No Devon.  Goodnight.”  

“I hope you find her, sir.  Mrs. Rogers is just upset.  She’ll calm down.  She just needs to get away for a moment.” The young woman turned and left.  

Steve walked into his office; the back panel now open to a bank of computers.  The balcony doors were now open, the Ironman suit now in sentry mode.  He saw Tony, Bucky and Nat all working a computer.  Steve walked over to Clint who had an ice pack to his ribs.  “Your wife had a mean punch.”  

“Yeah, I guess the self-defense lessons with Nat are working.” Steve shook his head.  “I’m sorry Clint.”  

“I’m not.  It's good to know that she can take care of herself.” He stood up, taking in a sharp breath.  “Sam got in his suit and is circling; Wanda and Vision have been notified but they are in London right now, so they are not a lot of help.”  

“Surveillance?” 

“Still nothing.  She’s good.  She has the glasses on which distorts her feature just enough that we can’t track it.  Especially the eyes.”  

“Fuck.  Bucky?  Anything?” 

“If she left her cards then she is using cash, harder to trace. She hasn’t turned on the backup phone I gave her.”  

“So, she’s in the wind?” 

“For now, yes.  We just have to think of where she might be going.” 

“She could be anywhere.” 

Belle wandered. The rain, the cold, the lies, they all confused her.  Her whole family lied to her. She had no home, no where to go. She found herself back in Jersey, walking the streets of her former home.  No one lived there anymore. She jumped back onto the subway, purchasing a hoodie on the way. She tucked her dark hair in and adjusted Tony’s glasses. She needed a reprieve from the world.  

“She was spotted!” Bucky yells running into the apartment’s living room.  “She adjusted her classes for just a fraction of a second.  She was on the subway, but I don’t know where she got off.”  

“What direction?”  

“Queens by the trains but there are a lot of connections from there.”  

“Fuck!” Steve sank back down to the sofa, head in hands.  “I can’t believe I did this. How could I be so stupid?”  

“Ok punk, relax, ok, yes, you fucked up; we all did.  We should have insisted that you told her the truth from the beginning, but we didn’t and here we are.  Steve,” Bucky put his hand on his shoulder, “we’ll find her, and we’ll make it right.”  

Steve looked at his best friend. “I can’t lose her.” His voice cracked.  

“You won’t. She just needs time.”  

Belle made it to the bar without any interruption.  Robert waved at her as she entered but instead of taking a seat in her booth, she went to the bar.  “Something strong Rob.  I just need the escape.”  

“You got it.”  

She sat at the bar, and she knew she was in line.  She needed to let go of these feelings.  When her name was called, she poured her heart and soul into the song.  

There's a fire starting in my heart  Reaching a fever pitch, it's bringing me out the dark  Finally I can see you crystal clear  Go 'head and sell me out and I'll lay your ship bare 

See how I'll leave with every piece of you  Don't underestimate the things that I will do  There's a fire starting in my heart  Reaching a fever pitch and it's bringing me out the dark 

The scars of your love remind me of us  They keep me thinking that we almost had it all  The scars of your love they leave me breathless  I can't help feeling 

We could've had it all (you're gonna wish you)  (Never had met me)  Rolling in the deep (tears are gonna fall)  (Rolling in the deep) 

You had my heart inside (you're gonna wish you)  Of your hands (never had met me)  And you played it (tears are gonna fall)  To the beat (rolling in the deep) 

Baby, I have no story to be told  But I've heard one on you, now I'm gonna make your head burn  Think of me in the depths of your despair  Make a home down there, as mine sure won't be shared 

The scars of your love (never had met me)  Remind me of us (tears are gonna fall)  They keep me thinking (rolling in the deep)  That we almost had it all (you're gonna wish you)  The scars of your love (never had met me)  They leave me breathless (tears are gonna fall)  I can't help feeling (rolling in the deep) 

We could've had it all (you're gonna wish you)  (Never had met me)  Rolling in the deep (tears are gonna fall)  (Rolling in the deep) 

You had my heart inside (you're gonna wish you)  Of your hands (never had met me)  And you played it (tears are gonna fall)  To the beat (rolling in the deep) 

We could've had it all  Rolling in the deep  You had my heart inside of your hand  But you played it with a beating 

Throw your soul through every open door (whoa)  Count your blessings to find what you look for (whoa)  Turn my sorrow into treasured gold (whoa)  You pay me back in kind and reap just what you've sown 

We could've had it all (tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep)  We could've had it all (you're gonna wish you never had met me)  It all, it all, it all (tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep) 

We could've had it all (you're gonna wish you)  (Never had met me)  Rolling in the deep (tears are gonna fall)  (Rolling in the deep) 

You had my heart inside (you're gonna wish you)  Of your hands (never had met me)  And you played it (tears are gonna fall)  To the beat (rolling in the deep) 

Could've had it all (you're gonna wish you)  (Never had met me)  Rolling in the deep (tears are gonna fall)  (Rolling in the deep) 

You had my heart inside (you're gonna wish you)  Of your hands (never had met me)  But you played it, you played it, you played it  You played it to the beat 

Belle finished and made her way back out.  As it got darker, a place popped in her head where she could lay low. She called a cab and made her way back to Manhattan. She climbed the stairs and hit the doorbell.  

The door opened and its owner’s jaw fell open in shock. “Belle?!” 

“Hi Lila.”

NEXT

Taglist:

@patzammit

@texmexdarling

@slutforchrisjamalevans

@firephotogrl74

@tinkerbelle67

@before-we-get-started

@bunnyforhim

@alexakeyloveloki

@sunnyhummingbee

@whiskeytangofoxtrot555

@peaceinourtime82

@kmc1989

@lokislady82

#andy's hea #andy's shenanigans #yours submissively #chris evans fanfiction #steve rogers au #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfiction #Steve Rogers x OFC #Bucky barnes #chris evans #mcu fanfiction #Steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #chris evans au #avengers au #cliffhanger queen

[fluffyprettykitty]

Human Connection

Pairing: Marc Spector x black widow! reader

Word Count: 650 words

Warnings: a lil angst, implied smut, canon-type violence.

Outline: Why do humans form bonds? Marc would just show you why and how.

Author’s Note: Requested. I chose a narrative style for this piece. Sorta poetic.

P.S: dividers by @firefly-graphics || banners by @maysdigitalarts

Main Masterlist ・❥・ Marc Spector Masterlist

You don’t remember warmth.

You remember the pain, discipline, and an obscene need for success. It wasn’t easy to live like this, cut off from the rest of the world, observing and wondering how exactly other people could live. You sat and observed the people, how they talked, how they laughed, how they opened up, and how they smiled and touched each other. You both flinched and longed at the thought. 

It hasn’t been long since you were freed. Maybe a year, maybe more, maybe less, you didn’t really count days or anything. You tried to feel normal, to become a part of society, but your anxiety got a hold over you, and quickly you withdrew again. 

Now you were helping, you were helping your fellow sisters with missions and whatnots, wherever you could, putting your unique skill set to use. Traveling you all over the place, never residing somewhere for more than a few days and nights. Just looking and pondering how exactly did people live. And that’s when you came across him.

Marc Spector.

He was not taller than you were, with dark curly hair, an intense stare, and an incredibly alluring yet threatening aura about him. You wanted to study him, to learn everything about him, to crawl so deep under his bones he could never pull you out. 

It was on an archaeological site somewhere deep within Egypt, in the necropolis of Dahshur. He was with a group of armed men who were supposed to loiter and steal an artifact that wasn’t there. Your mission was to stop them. Yet no one could find what they were looking for. 

Your eyes met each other at a dark-lit corner. He held his gun against you, and breathed in and out, as he thought about firing at you. And you stayed frozen like a prey looking at its predator. 

And you overpowered him. Because that’s what a black widow could do and he was just a mercenary. He was never a match for you. You kicked the gun away as you looked at him, cold stare but full of curiosity. He looked back at you trying to decipher you. 

But the close contact, the smell of his skin, of pure desperation wrenched in guild and whiskey had your mind delirious. You had men wrapped under your thighs long before you could even think about how the world could revolve yet here you are with a childlike wonder for that man. 

Maybe that’s how people connected. 

One quick movement and the object was in your hands and quickly you were running away from the pyramid never to be seen again. 

But you were curious.

Almost too curious. 

Didn’t take you long to find out who hired him and who he was. You showed up at his house, dragging your fingers over his items trying to understand how that man had occupied every single thought in your head.

And you left before he could come. Always able to hear him. Outsmarting him at every rule at your own game.

And you observed him.

Studied him. 

A stupid game of hiding and seek that lasted a couple of months. 

He was yours yet not at all at the same time.

Until one dark rainy night, he held your throat within the palm of his hand staring down at you asking you what you wanted from him. 

And you didn’t reply. And your heartbeat rose and rose. 

But he knew what to do to make you talk. 

And when he crushed his body against yours, you knew. 

You knew how people connected. 

And within the time you’d explain to him who you were and what happened to you and he would swear on his life that no harm would ever be done to you again. 

And then you became one of these people you used to so closely inspect. 

Then you became his.

for updates please follow @fluffyprettykittylibrary and turn on notifications!

#marc spector #marc spector x you #marc spector x reader #marc spector x y/n #marc spector x female reader #marc spector angst #marc spector fanfic #marc spector fluff #moon knight x reader #moon knight tv #moon knight #moon knight x you #moon knight x female reader #moon knight x y/n #moon knight imagine #moon knight drabble #moon knight series #selenewrites

[danpuff-ao3]

Self-Celebration

me: oh no, I've gotten nothing done, I'm a failure

them: wow, Danni, how do you do so much????

I, maybe, need a good reminder of all of my accomplishments, so here we go. Everything I've accomplished this year so far. That I remember, anyway.

Threw together my HP Astro series; edited and formatted and posted to AO3 in time for Bethy's birthday!

Got White Lies & Silver Bells ready to go live on AO3 as soon as Hoggywartyxmas reveals were up!

Wrote Again (and Again) on a whim, to accompany A-Loveunlaced's Snarry art

Wrote a BUNCH of random drabbles for a House of Snarry challenge. 6 of which I also posted to AO3! (A handful of which I have not yet.)

Wrote 5 fics for Kinkuary! 2 of which are in the same universe as Contempt. 2 of which are not yet posted (waiting for the 27th and 28th!) 1 of which (the longest of which) I wrote, edited, and posted same day! The day after I had a tooth extraction.

Wrote 3 fics for Chan Fest! All of which I wrote, edited, and posted same day. 2 of which are 5k+ words!

Various words in various other places.

Brainstorming for other fics.

Co-modding @hp-chan-fest

Starting @hp-fruit-fest (and running solo, RIP me)

Modly duties on the Snarry Sanctuary Discord server

Keeping on top of my AO3 comments! (You know, responding to them.)

New HP Astro posts (Lily, Snily, Luna, and Ron (to be posted 3/1/23!))

Made several ship and fic related playlists on Spotify

Made TONS of fic banners on Canva.

Several rec lists! 8 posted so far, and a few queued up!

Got my home office all set up and cozy!

Brainstorming ideas with friends

Helping alpha/beta/cheer read for friends

Try to stay involved in the community/socializing on Discord, Tumblr, Twitter, Reddit.

Supporting other creators as much as possible!

Finally took the time to learn how to create work skins on AO3!

And site skins!! And finally got all fic stats and personal stats hidden (for mental health!)

Fought with site skin codes on behalf of a friend, to get it tuned to her liking, so that she has a clean and stress-free environment if/when she returns to fandom! (The perks of having your friends' AO3 login haha!) (This took like an hour I stg and I was being way too stubborn to stop fiddling and consult a guide.) (But oh well, I did the dang thing!!!!)

Started compiling resources I need to begin book binding! Still a ways off before I can start cuz supplies are not cheap, but I'm on the right path!

ALSOOOOO

Working a full time job

Spending time with my longtime partner (my beloved Eddie-bear!)

I actually watched a still-newish show for once! Wednesday!

Finished reorganizing/decluttering my home

Baked...a lot. Mostly cookies. Going to bake brownies this weekend!

Many doctor's appointments

And medication changes

I filed my taxes!!

Oh yeah and started being a teensy bit more sociable at work! I had a nice long conversation about ASTROLOGY the other day which was fun and great and awesome.

Oh let's not forget about all my work accomplishments! I made 8 years with my company. All the people coming and going (which I get to deal with.) Our census going way up. Many IT calls and playing IT person for small tech problems. Many errands run. Oh yeah and all the new tasks I get to do because our funder and our corporate office BOTH love changing expectations frequently.

So like...there's stuff I wish I could do and haven't been able to yet. But I'm far from a failure! Or lazy, for that matter. I am a lady of ACCOMPLISHMENT.

#danpuff stuff #personal #self-love is self-care #gotta recognize my wins #my therapist is going to be so proud

[how-to-get-a-free-cape-inez]

How to get capes in Minecraft Java Edition easily ()

💾 ►►► DOWNLOAD FILE 🔥🔥🔥 Last Updated: May 23, References. He has played Minecraft for over eight years and has extensive knowledge on how to play Minecraft and how the game has changed over the different versions. This article has been viewed , times. Capes are rare vanity items in Minecraft. When a player has a cape, they can wear them in the game as a show of style or bragging rights. Minecraft no longer gives out capes like they used to. Still, there are a few ways to get capes in Minecraft, depending on how you play. This wikiHow teaches you where to get capes on Minecraft. Use a mod like Advanced Capes Mod. If you're playing the Bedrock edition, download a skin that has capes and equip it in the Character Creator. Migrate to a Microsoft account from the Java version for a free cape. Did this summary help you? Yes No. Log in Social login does not work in incognito and private browsers. Please log in with your username or email to continue. No account yet? Create an account. Popular Categories. Arts and Entertainment Artwork Books Movies. Relationships Dating Love Relationship Issues. Hobbies and Crafts Crafts Drawing Games. All Categories. Edit this Article. We use cookies to make wikiHow great. By using our site, you agree to our cookie policy. Cookie Settings. Learn why people trust wikiHow. Download Article Explore this Article Steps. Tips and Warnings. Related Articles. Article Summary. Use a mod java edition. The only way to get new capes in the Java version of Minecraft is to use a mod. Technically you can get all kinds of capes using Minecraft mods, but other players won't see them unless they're using the same mod as you. It's still worth a shot to check out these mods: A popular mod for getting capes is Advanced Capes Mod , which you can install as long as you have Minecraft Forge. To make your own cape from scratch, download the cape template , edit it with Paint or any editing app you like, and then upload the edited version to a free image hosting site like Imgur. Still, it can be fun to have a cool cape, especially if you're streaming your gameplay. Download a skin with capes. If you buy a skin from the Minecraft Marketplace that comes with a cape, you can equip the cape as a cosmetic item through the Character Creator. Move from Java Edition to a Microsoft account. If you're playing the Minecraft Java edition, you may have heard that Mojang will soon officially require you to have a Microsoft account to keep playing. Did you know you can get expert answers for this article? Unlock expert answers by supporting wikiHow. Zac Churchill Minecraft Specialist. Zac Churchill. Support wikiHow by unlocking this expert answer. Not Helpful 17 Helpful Yes, other Minecraft mods like OptiFine let you donate in exchange for a cape, which you may then customize with the banner system. Or you can simply use the OptiFine pre-made cape. Not Helpful 31 Helpful Yes, because when you change your name your UUID doesn't change. With mods, on the other hand, I am not sure. Not Helpful 15 Helpful No, when using a mod to add a cape, the changes are only visible in your own game. The only exception to this is if the other player has the same mod installed. If this is the case, you will be able to see each other's capes. Not Helpful 32 Helpful Yes, if you use a cape mod. Otherwise, either you get one by going to Minecon or by making something related to development. Not Helpful 24 Helpful The skin change will not remove the cape. I only know this from a DanTDM video where he changes his skin. Not Helpful 30 Helpful You have to donate to Optifine, go to Minecon, or buy an account that has a cape on it. There is no legal and right way to get a cape everybody can see without paying in some way or form. Not Helpful 25 Helpful It depends on your forge version. If your mod is 1. Not Helpful 19 Helpful There is, but most of them don't work or else you must pay and buy something. Not Helpful 33 Helpful No, there are no cape mods available for the current version of Minecraft PE, and no official capes released. If you have an older version of Minecraft PE, you may be able to use the Capes Addon, which is available from several sources online. This only works for Minecraft PE version 11, which is now outdated, and only for Android. Not Helpful 45 Helpful Include your email address to get a message when this question is answered. Never use your Minecraft account password on Minecraft fan or mod sites. Helpful 0 Not Helpful 0. You Might Also Like How to. How to. About This Article. Co-authored by:. Co-authors: Updated: May 23, Categories: Minecraft Mods. Article Summary X 1. Italiano: Ottenere un Mantello in Minecraft. Deutsch: In Minecraft einen Umhang bekommen. Nederlands: Een mantel krijgen in Minecraft. Bahasa Indonesia: Mendapatkan Cape di Minecraft. Thanks to all authors for creating a page that has been read , times. Reader Success Stories Anonymous Apr 19, Rated this article:. More reader stories Hide reader stories. Did this article help you? Cookies make wikiHow better. By continuing to use our site, you agree to our cookie policy. Anonymous Apr 19, Cassandra Spain Jan 30, Share yours! More success stories Hide success stories. Featured Articles How to. Trending Articles. New Pages. Featured Articles. Watch Articles How to. Trending Articles How to. By signing up you are agreeing to receive emails according to our privacy policy. Follow Us.

[navybrat817]

Visible Mark - Part 3

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, Steve Rogers x Female Reader, Bucky Barnes x Female Reader x Steve Rogers Summary: Being Bucky and Steve’s best girl feels too good to be true. Word Count: Over 4.9k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, vaginal fingering, groping, dirty talk, tension, feels, possessive behavior, slight angst, minor harassment, tattooed Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers (they’re warnings, okay?) A/N: Welcome to the next part of my tattoo AU! This is follow up to Visible Mark Part 2 and the end of Phase 2! Beta read by the wonderful @whisperlullaby ​, but any and all mistakes are my own. Thank you, lovely! Banner created by yours truly, but Bucky and Steve photos were provided by the talented @nix-akimbo ! This AU wouldn’t exist without them. And divider by the beautiful @firefly-graphics !

I have discontinued my tag list. Please follow my sideblog @navybrat817-sideblog ​​ and turn on notifications to see new fics! I will only post fics, writing schedule and updates there.

I do not consent to have my work posted on any third party site or app. If anyone sees my work anywhere but here or archiveofourown under my same username, it has been reposted without my permission. 18+ Please!!! By reading this, you agree that you are at least 18 years old. Enjoy, lovelies!

You glanced at your phone as you pushed your cart down the aisle, checking an item off your shopping list. You somehow managed to sneak out early to get groceries. It wasn’t easy considering that your boyfriends traded off cuddles. Seriously, how did they manage to keep you in an octopus hold through the night? And how were they always so warm?

Smiling to yourself, you stopped to grab a couple of bags of chips. You made sure to get their favorite flavors. They were always thinking of you and you wanted to do the same for them. You knew the inevitable phone call with Peggy was coming, but you wanted to go about your day like normal and not let your imagination run wild. Before you could push your cart forward, you heard someone whistle behind you.

“Well, well. Fancy seeing you here.”

You turned around, a tight smile on your face as you saw Grant Ward and Billy Russo. They didn’t bother to hide that they checked you out, which made your skin crawl. The two of them always gave you bad vibes when you managed to see them. “Yeah. Fancy seeing someone at a grocery store,” you said, turning back to walk away.

“What’s the rush?” Billy asked as they followed.

“I don’t like to mingle in the aisles,” you replied.

“Surprised you’re out by yourself. Don’t you have Bucky and Steve attached at your hips now?” Grant chimed in.

Sighing, you stopped when Billy quickly walked around to the front of your cart. “Contrary to popular belief, they do let me out on my own,” you said sarcastically.

“Shit. So you really are fucking both of them?” Billy questioned, a dark smirk forming on his face as he leaned on the cart. You stiffened when you felt Grant right behind you, keeping your mouth shut tight. 

“Always thought you were sort of innocent. Never pegged you as a slut," he whispered in your ear.

You inhaled sharply, the word making you feel cheap and dirty. Was that how people in town saw you? A little slut who wasn’t satisfied with one man? No. The people who cared, who mattered, supported you.

“If that’s what you’re into, we can show you a good time,” Billy leered, licking his lips.

You lifted your chin, refusing to let them demean you. "I'm not a slut. I’m their slut. Now get the hell out of my way.”

“I don’t think that’s what you really want,” Grant chuckled, brushing his fingers along your neck.

You were two seconds away from throwing your elbow back when you heard someone storm down the aisle. You felt Grant pull away and you wanted to burn the spot where he touched you. Billy instantly let go of the cart as well, his hands up as he backed away. You saw Thor come into view, meeting your gaze. The enormous blonde looked furious to see the other men so close to you. His brother, Loki, was close behind and looked bored as he took in the scene.

“Thor. Buddy. We don’t want any trouble,” Grant tried to placate.

“What is the meaning of this?” Thor asked, clapping a hand on his shoulder to push him further away from you.

“'What is the meaning of this?' What century are you in?” Billy mocked before the blonde swung his thunderous stare his way. “Lighten up. We were just talking.”

“Somehow I doubt you two are good conversationalists,” Loki said, looking at his brother. “But is this any of our business?”

“It is and it doesn’t look like she wants to talk to them,” Thor snapped, his gaze considerably softer as he looked at you. “Do you wish to speak to them?” 

“They called me a slut. So… no, I don’t,” you answered confidently, mentally smirking when you saw Grant’s smile fall. 

Loki looked more interested in the conversation now. “Did they? You two insulted the lady because…”

“She’s fucking Bucky and Steve. Is she fucking you, too? If she spreads her legs for those pricks, we figured-”

You gasped when Thor stepped forward and grabbed Grant by his collar. Did everyone forget they were in a grocery store? You didn’t want to be the cause of a fight. 

“As entertaining as that would be, I wouldn’t,” Loki warned Billy when he moved to intervene. 

“The next and only word out of your mouth will be an apology,” Thor ordered.

“Sorry,” Grant said through his teeth after a moment. 

You nodded, not wanting to drag it out or make a big deal out of it. 

“I better not see you bothering her again,” Thor said, letting Grant go. “Finish your shopping later. Consider yourself lucky that Barnes and Rogers weren’t here.”

“This isn’t over,” Grant whispered as he walked past you. Billy winked as he joined him, leaving you alone in the aisle with Thor and Loki. It took a moment to realize you were shaking. Was it anger? Disgust?

“Are you alright?” Thor gently asked.

You nodded quickly. “I’m fine. That was just… unexpected,” you said as evenly as possible, though you weren’t sure how you felt. Grant and Billy hardly ever talked to you, but their intentions were pretty clear.

“We can wait and walk you out,” Thor offered, ignoring Loki as he rolled his eyes.

Your chest tightened as you nodded again. “I’d appreciate that. I’m actually grabbing a few things to make for your party.”

“I’m glad you’ll be there and I’m sure whatever you make will be delicious,” he smiled.

You took your time walking through the rest of the store, much to Loki’s annoyance, as you listened to Thor tell a story about a recent tattoo he designed. He was so proud and animated as he spoke to you, like he was happy to have you as his audience. You found yourself much more relaxed by the time you went to pay. He even bagged the groceries for you as Loki checked the time. Similar to your boyfriends, the large blonde was a gentleman.

"Thanks again," you said as they walked you out.

"There is no need to thank us. Had it been my little one in there, Barnes and Rogers would have stepped in," Thor said, easily carrying your bags. "And I hope you do not take what they said to heart."

"I didn't," you tried to dismiss, glancing at Loki as he raised an eyebrow at you. He no longer looked annoyed as he studied you. 

"I do question your taste since you threw in your lot with Barnes and Rogers," Loki said softly. "But doing so did not give Ward and Russo the right to treat you as if you were beneath them. Because you are not."

The truth was, you weren't ashamed of your relationship, but it hurt that others thought they could reduce you to something less than what you were. "That means a lot, Loki."

"Do not tell anyone I said that. I do have a reputation to uphold."

"You have a reputation?" Thor deadpanned. 

You burst out laughing at Loki's expression. The pool party was going to be a blast.

"I'm gonna kill them," Bucky swore as he unloaded one of the bags.

"No, I'm gonna kill them," Steve corrected him, shutting the cupboard harder than normal.

"There's two of them. We can both kill them."

"Nat can help us hide the bodies."

"Sam can give us an alibi."

You sighed as you shut the fridge and turned to face them. Both of them were fuming, which was kind of adorable. You should have known Thor would let them know what happened before you go back. "You are not killing them. Though I wouldn't object to you holding them down and tattooing 'PRICK' across their foreheads."

The boys exchanged a look as your eyes went wide. "We could do that…" Bucky said seriously.

"I was kidding!" you said, wishing you kept your mouth shut because you wouldn't put it past them to actually try that.

"They can't just get away with calling you that," Steve said, running a hand through his hair. The agitated look on his face faded a bit when you went over and gave him a peck on the lips. "I'm serious, sweetheart. We won’t tolerate that."

"I get why you’re both angry. It upset me, too,” you told him as you took his hand. “But I’m not going to let you two start a fight over it.”

“But the fact that it upsets you is reason enough. If they say or try anything else…” Bucky stopped as you looked over your shoulder. You stood still for a moment when he clenched his metal hand before you moved, gently taking it in yours. Holding both of their hands seemed to anchor them almost as much as it did for you. 

“If they do… you have my permission to do anything that doesn’t get you sent to jail,” you conceded.

“Really?” Steve asked with a smirk. “Sweetheart, do you have a mean streak?”

“Only against people who hurt the ones I love,” you answered, letting them go to unpack the rest of the last bag. You knew Grant’s words hurt them as much as they hurt you, but you hoped they didn’t read into what you just said. You didn’t even want to read into that. It was still too soon. 

“Doll?” Bucky asked, reaching for your hand again when you finished.

“When are we calling Peggy? Now? I think we should call her now,” you said rapidly.

“Now?” Steve questioned.

“Yeah. Now is good,” you nodded, sidestepping them to leave the kitchen. You sighed as you walked to the living room. All the preaching about communication and you were closing yourself off for no reason, other than misplaced fear. Because what if something happened on this call? What if everything changed? 

“Hey,” Bucky said from behind you before you could sit, turning you to face him. You lifted your gaze to meet his, seeing a bit of fear behind his eyes as well. “You have me. You know that, right?”

Your throat went dry as you nodded. Bucky didn’t let just anyone in, but he trusted and cared for you enough to open up. That meant everything. “And you have me, too.”

He tipped your chin as he brushed his lips against yours. The infinite gentleness as he wrapped his other arm around you made your heart race faster. It was a nice distraction, even if it was temporary.

“You sure you want to call now?” Steve asked again, his phone in hand as Bucky broke the kiss.

“Trying to avoid it?” Bucky responded, taking a seat and pulling you into his lap.

“I’m not. I want to know what's going on,” Steve promised as he sat down, twisting and turning the device between his fingers. “I don’t know what to expect, but I’m just glad you’re both here.”

“Wouldn’t be anywhere else, punk,” Bucky swore.

It was an honor to witness the bond between them, especially in moments like this. Steve was vulnerable, even if he did his best not to let it show. And Bucky would never leave him alone like that. You wouldn’t either.

“Whatever she has to say…” Steve swallowed as he looked at you. You wanted to wrap your arms around him and assure him that you had him. And that he had you, too.

“We’ll figure it out together,” you smiled softly, hoping it would ease him. Because it was the truth. No matter what was said, even if everything did change, you didn’t want to give up on either of them.

Steve exhaled as he touched the screen, making sure to put the call on speaker as it began to ring. The sound taunted you and you felt Bucky tense a bit at the second ring until you ran a hand through his hair. All three of you were on edge as it kept ringing. After all of that, would she not answer?

“Hello?” 

You nearly gasped when you heard Peggy speak and it took everything in you not to answer. 

“Hi, Peggy,” Steve said after a beat.

You weren’t sure if he meant for it to be there, but you heard affection in his tone. Or maybe he was just being polite. You couldn’t hold that against him. Once upon a time, he was going to marry her.

“Hello, Steve. It’s… good to hear from you,” Peggy said and there was no mistaking the affection from her. It made you lean in closer to Bucky, but you gave Steve a small smile. 

“You kept calling. I owed it to you to call you back,” he pointed out, glancing at you as Bucky pulled you even closer. “But it isn’t just me here. Bucky’s here.”

“Peggy,” Bucky said as cordially as he could.

“James,” Peggy replied, some of the warmth gone. There was no lost love between them, clearly. “I don’t understand why-”

“-And our girlfriend.”

You thought the call dropped when a few seconds went by. Hearing Steve call you their girlfriend felt good. And the fact that he was upfront and unashamed, it felt even better.

“I apologize. Did you say our girlfriend?” she questioned and you wondered if she was judging her ex. 

“I did,” Steve said with pride. Why did that send a rush of unexpected heat through you? “Bucky and I are both seeing her.”

You quietly introduced yourself, even though she didn’t ask for your name.

“Hello," Peggy said politely enough, but you wished you could have seen her face to get a true read on her. Was she surprised? Hurt?  "I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting to speak to anyone else. I… also wasn't expecting to hear that."

"I understand it may be a surprise, but whatever you have to say to me can be said to them. It isn’t to put you on the spot. I just don’t want any secrets between us.”

Peggy cleared her throat. “Why exactly did you think I called?”

“I don’t know,” Steve said quietly. “Can you tell me, please?”

“It’s Sharon, Steve. She’s sick.”

"Sharon?" you whispered.

“That’s her cousin,” Bucky whispered back. 

“She’s sick?” Steve repeated, sitting up straight. Worry filled his eyes and you didn’t blame him.

“Yes. It’s a long story, but she’s going to Metro-General for treatment. I’ll be moving just outside of town to help until she gets back on her feet.”

For the first time since the conversation began, there was a waver in Peggy’s voice. It sounded like she was on the verge of tears. It made you shift a bit in Bucky’s lap. It felt like you were suddenly intruding, even though Steve made it clear he wanted you to be there. 

Steve ran a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, Peggy. I had no idea.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. She's strong. Always has been. I simply didn’t want you to be surprised if you saw me in town soon since I’ll be there in less than a week.”

“If there’s… anything you need, will you let us know?” Steve offered. You weren’t sure if it was out of kindness or sympathy.

“Of course, but I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“It isn’t an imposition,” Bucky chimed in, placing a soft kiss on your temple. 

“Thank you, James,” Peggy said. “And thank you, Steve.”

You leaned your head on Bucky’s shoulder, not paying attention as the conversation continued. Peggy’s cousin was sick. Peggy would be in town. You knew how vulnerable people could be when a loved one was ill. 

“...Thank you again, Steve. I’m thankful that you returned my call.”

"I’ll help however we can. As a friend,” Steve emphasized, which made you lift your head. The loving smile he gave you filled you with guilt. He was trying to assure you because that was the kind of man he was. 

“Of course. As a friend, yes. I… I should go for now. Goodbye, Steve.”

“Bye, Peggy.”

You slowly exhaled as you looked between Steve and Bucky. Both of them looked concerned, but also relieved. Had they feared the worst, too? 

“Steve, are you okay?” you asked, leaning over and placing your hand over his. 

“I think so,” he said, turning his hand over to hold yours properly. “I feel terrible for Sharon. She’s a good person.”

“She is. I hope she pulls through,” Bucky agreed. “You gonna be okay seeing Peggy around?” 

“I’ll be fine. I have you two,” Steve answered, gazing at you. “Are you okay?"

"I am," you swore, that guilt creeping in again. He should have been concerned with himself, not you. "I think we all feel better knowing what's going on. And it meant a lot that you told her who I was."

"Because I have nothing to hide," Steve swore. You believed him. 

"Are you worried about seeing her?" Bucky asked, kissing your temple again. 

"I have nothing to worry about," you assured them. 

"Thank you again for being here," Steve whispered.

You squeezed his hand as you leaned over, your kiss soft and deep as your lips touched. “Like Bucky said… we wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

“Damn it, Clint!” Mandy shrieked when he did a cannonball into the pool, splashing her and Natasha in the process.

Clint shook his hair out as he surfaced. “Did I hear you scream, Mandy? Nat, is that how she sounds when you’re between her-”

“-I will end you, Barton,” the redhead threatened, grabbing a towel to dry herself and Mandy off. 

You laughed as you sat on the edge of the pool, swirling your feet around in the water. Since the call, things felt lighter. Steve was more relaxed, even as he worried for Sharon. Bucky had an extra bounce in his step, knowing that things were secure and right. And the weather was perfect for the party.

“Thor, are you sure I can’t give you a hand?” you asked as he stood at the grill. 

Thor took a swig of his beer, pointing at you with the bottle. “You brought a small feast. What kind of host would I be if I made you cook more?”

You smiled sheepishly. The boys teased you for going overboard with the side dishes, but you wanted to do something nice after Thor stepped in to help you at the store. “Are you sure?” 

“You just soak up some sun,” Sam winked, going to help Thor. “Besides, your soldiers don’t want you to lift a finger.”

“My soldiers?” you repeated, leaning back on your hands. 

“Yeah, your soldiers. And you’re their captain. You tell them to jump and they’re already in the air,” Sam chuckled.

“How high am I jumping?” Bucky teased, carrying a plate of hot dogs and burgers over. Steve was right behind him with drinks in hand.

Dignity be damned, you almost fell into the pool when you got the full view of them. Both were in their swim trunks, their muscles and tattoos on full display under the sun. How did they manage to keep taking your breath away? Would there be any oxygen left in your lungs?

“So… everything is okay,” Natasha stated as she took a seat beside you.

“What?” you asked, your gaze still on your boyfriends as they stood at the grill. 

“Everything is okay,” she stated again, nudging you. “I know you talked to Peggy. And if it hadn’t gone well, I wouldn’t have expected you here.”

“Yeah. It’s okay,” you smiled as you pulled your gaze away. “I don’t know why I was so nervous. Actually, I know why, but it’s not like I had a right to feel that way.”

Nat shook her head a little. “Why do you do that?” 

“Do what?” 

“Brush off your feelings like that?” she asked, nudging you again. “The two of them may share a brain cell, but you? You keep acting as if you’re not allowed to feel the way you do. Why?”

You swirled your feet again as you tried to piece together how you wanted to respond. “Because they keep showing me that I mean something to them and… I don’t want them to doubt that I’m the right girl for them.”

“You’ve really fallen for them, haven’t you?” Nat smiled to herself.

You glanced over at them again as they laughed at something that Sam said. Their smiles brought a smile to your own face. You could spend every day listening to those happy sounds and never grow tired of them. "I fell before they were mine."

“They make you happy, so let yourself have it.”

“I thought you and Mandy were going to stop assuring me,” you teased. “And speaking of… thank you for making her happy. She deserves it.”

Both of you turned your heads in time to see Mandy dunk Clint’s head under the water. “Yeah, she does,” Nat smirked, jumping in. “I should save his ass.”

You laughed as she swam over to help. She was right. Your feelings were valid and you deserved to be happy. And you had every right to have some fun, too.

Smirking to yourself, you stood up and waited until you knew Bucky and Steve looked your way. You slowly arched your back, stretching and closing your eyes as the sun rays hit you. After a moment, you opened your eyes and swayed your hips as you walked to the deeper end of the pool.

“Rogers! Watch it. You’ll burn it!” Loki snapped, making you smirk more. 

You knew your boyfriends had their eyes on you and only you as you stopped and stretched again. You pushed your chest out, enticing them, but you didn’t look their way.

“Barnes, move!” Loki snapped louder. “Thor, get them away from the grill!”

You finally looked over, seeing a bit of smoke rise from the grill. It gave your men a dangerous look as they stared at you. You blew them a kiss before you jumped in. The water felt good as it washed over you, making you smile as you surfaced. Two splashes nearby had your heart racing as your boyfriends rose from the water seconds later. Watching the droplets drip down their skin, you suddenly felt like prey instead of the siren.

“What are you doing, doll?” Bucky asked as he swam close to you. 

“Swimming,” you said sweetly, moving just out of his grip.

“You’re teasing us,” Steve corrected, nearly closing the distance in one stride. 

“I’m doing no such thing,” you smiled before Bucky moved behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. 

“Yes, you are,” he whispered, gently biting down on your earlobe. “You’re driving us crazy. You didn’t let us have you this morning.”

“I was busy cooking,” you reminded him as Steve moved in front of you. 

“You’re not cooking now,” Steve pointed out, giving you a soft kiss. “You’re teasing us in that sexy two-piece. And you think you’re safe because our friends are here.”

“But here’s the thing,” Bucky whispered as Steve’s hand slid between your legs. “Our friends don’t care where we get you off… or when.”

Your eyes widened when your bikini bottoms were moved aside. Yeah, you were definitely the prey. And feeling those fingers slide along your folds, it wasn’t the pool making you wet. “Are you really…”

“Unless you don’t want us to. We never want you to be uncomfortable, sweetheart,” Steve swore. True to his word, his fingers went still. Bucky didn’t move a muscle either, simply keeping you warm between their bodies.

Your best friend was feet away, splashing around with her girlfriend. The others were lost in their own conversations. Hell, they knew you had the vibrating butterfly in the night of the poker game. Would this really be a stretch? “Please, don’t stop.”

“That’s our girl,” Steve murmured, gently sliding a finger into your wet channel. “You didn’t let me properly thank you for being there with us.”

“You don’t… fuck, need to thank me,” you protested as Bucky’s mouth moved to your neck. Your lips tingled, aching to feel Steve kiss you again. 

“Yes, I do. We both do,” Steve said, pushing his finger deep. 

“We’re demanding and you put up with us,” Bucky whispered, sliding a hand under your bikini top. Your lips parted in a gasp as he gently pinched and toyed with your nipple. It always felt so good with his metal hand.

Steve brushed his nose against yours as you gasped again. “We’re selfish for wanting you so much, but you make us insatiable. Fuck, you’re soaked. Have we been neglecting you?” 

You could only moan as he added another finger. Was it the thought of being outside that excited you? Or knowing that everyone would see what they already knew? That you belonged to them? Maybe that was what excited you the most… simply being their girl.

“No,” you whimpered as you squirmed, rocking your ass back against Bucky with desperation. How did they reduce you to a mess so quickly?

Bucky licked a slow stripe along your pulse up to your ear again. “Should we fuck you here? Let us take turns slipping our cocks in and out of you?” 

Steve kissed you deeply when you moaned, curling his fingers when his other hand went to your hip. With expert ease, he gently lifted and lowered you back down. Fuck, he was making you fuck yourself on his fingers. “Would you let us, sweetheart?” he breathed into your mouth. “I wonder how many times we’d make you come before anyone noticed.”

Your legs shook, your spirit trying to leave your body as you climbed higher. You’d let them fuck you all over Thor’s pool, deck, house, wherever they wanted. “I’ll let you wreck every hole.”

Bucky sputtered as he gripped your breast, Steve’s fingers stilling again as his eyes went wide. It felt good that you could surprise them. “Every hole, doll?”

“Every hole,” you moaned as Steve’s fingers moved along your walls again. “The question is… which one of you gets my tight ass first?”

“Jesus FUCK,” Bucky growled, a bit of water splashing around you as he rocked his hardness against your ass. “You can’t just say shit like that. We need a warning."

“Why not?” you whined when Steve brushed his thumb along your clit. You knew their cocks had to be aching for you and that rush of power was heady. “Don’t you want to fill me up?” 

Steve’s forehead met yours as his fingers moved relentlessly. The hard and deep thrusts almost matched how his cock felt. “Until we’re dripping out of you, sweetheart.” 

“You'll have to plug me,” you moaned, biting your lip. It was nearly impossible to hold back your sounds. You reveled in their touches, swearing that steam rose from the water from the fire that burned inside you. Your body wound tighter and tighter, gripping Steve’s arms as he nailed your g-spot.

“Tonight,” Bucky groaned with want. “Please. I need to feel that tight hole around every inch of me.”

“She didn’t say you’d get it first,” Steve growled.

“I… get to decide,” you managed to say as your head fell back. The pleasure built with such force as they practically bickered over who would ruin you first. You felt like you were in danger of exploding as you clenched around Steve’s fingers. “I’m… Fuck, I’m gonna come.”

“Do it, doll. Soak his fingers like our good girl. You’ve more than earned it,” Bucky encouraged, pinching your nipple again.

You cried in ecstasy as you let it wash over you, giving yourself up to the pure feeling of being theirs. Your cunt clenched almost painfully as your wetness coated the thick fingers inside you. You couldn’t even writhe in their grasp, their arms effectively keeping you trapped and making you feel it all. It wasn’t just the coil breaking. It was set on fire, every nerve ending heated from the pleasure in your veins. 

“Almost came just from that sound,” Steve admitted as he slipped his fingers free.

You smiled as Bucky fixed your top, still feeling how hard he was as he held you. “Almost? I’m gonna be hard until I get to fuck you.”

You laughed breathlessly until you realized how quiet it was. “Um…” you trailed off as you peaked over Steve’s shoulder. Mandy, Natasha, and Clint were no longer in the pool. Sam was missing, too. Only Thor and Loki were still outside. 

“If you’re quite finished, how do you want your burgers?” Loki asked. 

Blood rushed to your cheeks before you smiled. “I think I have enough meat right here.”

Thor threw his head back as he laughed. “Rogers, Barnes. If you let her go, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Bucky promised, kissing your shoulder. 

“Not letting go, Thor. Find your own best girl,” Steve added. 

“I’m not letting go either,” you smiled, making no effort to move out of the water or their arms. You had nowhere else to be, except where they were. And the fear of falling in love with them? It faded more and more with each passing second because the future was bright. You deserved it.

Peggy smiled as she reached over, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind Briana’s ear. She was so beautiful. “I know the move won’t be easy, but I’ll be right there. And I can’t wait for Steve to meet you. He’ll adore you.”

#navybrat writes #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x you #steve rogers x you #stucky x reader #stucky x you #bucky barnes x female reader #steve rogers x female reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #steve rogers fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader x steve rogers #stucky x reader tattoo au #howling commandos tattoo au #tattoo au #sebastian stan x reader #chris evans x reader

[tumbledfreckles]

Absolutely!

She should not be doing this. She knows she should not be doing this. She'd been warned against doing this.

But really, Quidditch practice ended half an hour ago. Surely he would have cleaned up by now. Right?

Hope this works! <33

This has not been edited, and it should have been edited, but screw it, I loved this prompt, I've stayed up way past bed time to write it, I wrote 1800 words instead of the 500 I planned, so have it in it's unedited glory and don't judge me too harshly. It's late, but its shirtless James Potter May or Jumpers off for June or really, just a thirst trap drabble to get your week going well.

Lily knocked softly on the door to the locker rooms, her breath caught in her throat, a thrum of anxiety running in her veins. When there was no sound, no answering call, no bid to enter, she paused for only moments, before biting her lip and pushing on the door handle.

She should not be doing this.

Her footsteps were quiet as she made her way down the long corridor that led to the locker rooms. Doors of the unoccupied rooms were shut, her finger tips dragged against the names of each team as she went. Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, and then finally, at the very end, Gryffindor. Unlike the others, this door was set slightly jar, light seen through the gaps, but no sounds emerged. The team had clearly departed.

She knows she should not be doing this.

Lily gritted her teeth, taking a deep breath as she pushed open the door, wide enough for her to slip through. It closed gently after her, allowing her to lean back against it, hands still caught on the handle behind her. She clutched the handle for dear life, knowing she should turn it and go back through. Knowing that to go further into the room was a boundary she shouldn’t cross.

She’d be warned against doing this.

As expected, the locker room was at least empty. She’d never been in here before, not being on the team, and never before having anyone she’d wanted to follow into the abyss. The reality was as bad as Lily had imagined. Likely due to the graces and actions of the house elves, it was cleaner than expected. There were no used towels piling around, no dirty, soiled uniforms discarded. The walls were filled with posters and pictures of Gryffindor Quidditch teams throughout the years. Banners and scarves lined the players' open lockers, caught on the name plates fastened above each one.

Almost as soon as she noted the name plates, her eyes caught on one in particular. A name that had fallen from her lips more often than her own had this year. A name that used to come out with derision, but was now pronounced with warmth, with feeling, with an unexplainable but inexplicable feeling of joy. The locker below it was the least orderly of them all, clothing still hung on the hooks, shoes and boots underneath the bench seat in front of it. Shin guards and pads and flying goggles still littered the bench and shelf.

The captain himself was nowhere to be found however. The sound of running water drew her attention to another doorway, at the far end of the locker room. Steam poured out of that room, leaving Lily in doubt that it was the way to the showers. Somewhere she definitely shouldn’t be going. She could wait out here for him. She only wanted to check on him, close the loop on their earlier conversation. She felt guilty for leaving him hanging, but that was no reason to follow him into the showers, surely.

But, really, Quidditch practise ended half an hour ago. Surely, he would have cleaned up by now. Right?

With that solid, solid reasoning ringing in her brain, spurring her on despite a wealth of misgivings, Lily moved forward. Her heart was racing but her movements somehow remained slow, cautious.

“Potter?” she called at the doorway.

No answer came.

Lily shook her head, cheeks already turning red as she contemplated her next action seconds before completing it.

She was only two steps in when she pulled up short.

James stood under the shower, mere metres from where Lily herself stood. A low wall hid most of his lower anatomy, but his back was on full display. Water ran in rivulets over strong, broad, tanned shoulders. It drained off his elbows as James reached to scrub at his hair, a movement Lily had seen him do a million times across their seven years of schooling, but never when he was wet. Certainly not when he was otherwise naked. His back arched, showing the muscles down his spine, lifting the beginnings of the curve of his arse into view.

“Fuck,” Lily whispered, her mouth having gone completely dry.

Of course, while he hadn’t heard her earlier call, he heard her quiet swear. Or maybe he’d felt the weight of her entranced, intoxicated stare. Before Lily could remove herself from a situation she definitely shouldn’t be in, even if it was the most beautiful site she’d seen all day, all week, all year, James turned.

“Lil- Evans,” he said in surprise, jumping slightly, before shutting off the water and reaching for the towel resting on the edge of the wall. “What’s wrong?”

“Noth- shit, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have -”Lily started, taking a step back, only she missed the doorway and landed against the wall next to instead.

It really wasn’t her fault she couldn’t focus.

If James’ back with a gift of meticulously carved marble, smooth skin and muscle that Lily just wanted to sink her teeth into, then his front was a bloody work of art. Well defined pectorals sat prominently, on his chest, surrounded by curved shoulders, impressive biceps that helped his brilliant throws on the field. Pools of water had collected in the curve of his collarbones, enough that Lily could have lapped happily to ease her suddenly restricted throat.

She’d seen glimpses of his abdominals before. He was always reaching for his hair, running a hand through the beautiful, silky locks, she couldn’t help but get flashes as his shirt, or t-shirt, or jumper lifted up. Especially when he was already stretching back across the couch, complaining about the Prefect’s schedule, the points schedule, or the meeting schedule. Any schedule really, just because he knew it would rile her up. So she’d seen his stomach from time to time. Knew his prowess on the Pitch couldn’t come from someone who wasn’t totally fit. But seeing it glistening, rippling as he moved, shadows from the dimmed bathroom lighting emphasising each curve, well…

It was really more than one girl could be expected to take.

“Evans,” James tried again, frowning as he finished wrapping a towel around his waist and stepped out of the shower area toward her. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

Lily tried not to focus on how the twisted knot of the towel sat dead centre below his navel. How it drew the eyeline down. How the muscles in his sides pointed down like an arrow toward that knot, making her wonder what was underneath the knot.

“Uh,” Lily forced her eyes up. “I, uh, wanted to talk to you.”

She pretended not to notice how droplets collected on his eyelashes, so much easier to see without his glasses. How his face was devoid of its usual smirk, concern etched across his face instead, furrowing his brow, straightening his smile.

“Sure,” James glanced around, “I was coming back to the castle, you could have waited.”

“I couldn’t,” Lily blurted, before she could stop herself. “I couldn’t wait.”

James quirked an eyebrow, but paused in his steps, now less than three steps from her. At this distance, she could smell him. He was perfumed by that familiar scent of pine and spice, but in the heat and the humidity of the room it surrounded her, consumed her. She tried to take a deep breath in, to focus and prepare herself, but all it did was allow the scent to overwhelm her.

“Well, have at it, Evans,” he encouraged. “I’m listening.”

“Well, before, earlier.. You, uh… you asked, well and I, you, I didn’t,” Lily sighed impatiently at her stuttering, rolling her eyes before realising that meant she couldn’t look at him. Tried to remind herself not to look at him, it was clearly too much to look at such a sight and string a sentence together. Much more of her blithering and he wouldn’t care for what she had to say, mad woman that she was.

“Still waiting, Evans,” James teased now, a small curve of his lips appearing now. He seemed to be realising what had her in such a fluster, and took another step forward. Within reaching distance. Touching distance.

“Oh, fuck it,” Lily breathed, and gave in.

There was no resistance as she reached out and snagged James by the hand, then his waist, then his neck. She tugged his head down, and it came easily until, with a final push on her toes, she crashed her lips against his. His mouth moved without hesitation, giving as good as he got, pushing her back into the wall with a satisfying oof, his teeth finding her bottom lip, pulling it until her mouth opened and the punishing kiss turned into something deeper, sweeter, more satisfying.

Lily’s hands threaded into his hair, before dancing down to shoulders, stroking along his chest. She couldn’t pick a place she wanted them to rest, so she just didn’t, and touched and admired and petted to her heart’s content. James didn’t appear to mind her cheek was cupped, her waist wrapped up with one of those delicious arms she’d admired. He was still warm from the shower, still damp from neglecting to dry off, and she could feel that heat pushing through her clothes, flattening them against her, allowing his touch to burn through to her needy skin.

Without meaning too, having not consciously thought the action through, Lily’s hand landed on the knot in the towel she’d been so focused on moments earlier. The action gave them both reason to pause, and James pulled back just enough as they panted for breath and stared at each other.

She’d never seen his eyes so black, the hazel almost completely hidden dilated pupils and a blazing fire that would have taken her breath, if only his lips hadn’t done the job already. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and Lily’s eyes followed the movement closely, her newly acquired knowledge of the feel, the taste of his tongue, making her imagine in a way that was all too real, how it would feel if he did the same to her.

“You had an answer for me, Evans?” his voice was hoarse, husky, like he’d run a marathon in the seconds, minutes, that they’d been kissing.

“I hardly think it matters now,” Lily’s laugh was almost bitter as it escaped from her, as she pushed back wet hair from his forehead, brushing her thumb softly across the scar above his eyebrow.

“Tell me anyway,” his fingers brushed down her arm, tipped her chin up, catching her lips again for a brief but perfect kiss.

Lily sighed, kissed him again to stall, cupped his face with both her hands to make sure he was paying attention. She was only going to say this once.

“Yes, I’d love to go to Hogsmeade with you next weekend.”

#jily #jily fic #jily fanfic #hogwarts jily #canon jily #freckles writes #probably can't call this a drabble #its really a oneshot #oops #shirtless james potter may #jumpers off for june #or whatever it was for june #forgive the lack of editing #i beg you

[bucky-hues]

stucky fic recs

here are some stucky fic recs! as always, be sure to read the warnings for each fic <3

one shots

finding home | @thedamageofherdays

cap steve x modern bucky

After he is caught in a terrible rainstorm while hiking, Bucky is glad to find shelter at the cottage Steve shares with his daughter and his dog. Bucky ends up finding so much more than just a safe place to spend the night.

x | @dreadlockholiday

steve x bucky

Request: Bucky looking through a glossy magazine and saying something like "God, can you imagine being paid for just looking cute?" And without thought Steve replies, "you'd be a millionaire" and Bucky just blushes furiously while Steve's all like 😳 *oh no, I just said that out loud*

x | @dreadlockholiday (18+)

steve x bucky

Bucky finds his BFF Steve's sketchbook... and it's full of nothing but sketches of Bucky... naked.

sweethearts | @musette22

steve x bucky

Steve confesses his feelings to Bucky using sweethearts

my moon, my man | @musette22 (18+)

steve x bucky (modern au)

AU meet-cute. Strangers on a Train, but with less murder and more sexual tension.

make it till you fake it | AggressiveWhenStartled (AO3)

steve x bucky

“Ned,” Peter said, like a drowning man sighting land. “Ned. Captain America and the Winter Soldier are fake dating right now and it is the most painfully awkward and obvious thing I have ever seen, all of us want to die, Ned.”

things my heart used to know | Nightwing11 (AO3)

steve x bucky

In a world where soulmates can communicate telepathically with their partners, Steve Rogers has always had Bucky Barnes with him, a calming voice in a sea of turmoil. And, when Bucky falls off the train during World War II, Steve experiences deafening silence for the first time.

Now, after crashing a plane in the Arctic to save the world and being frozen for 70 years, Steve’s still trying to figure out how to live without Bucky there. His new friends are trying to help him adjust, to move on. And he thought he was doing better, he really did.

So, why is he suddenly hearing Bucky’s voice again?

catfish | @buckmebxrnes (18+)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Steve Rogers is a famous movie star, known for his role as Captain America. Bucky Barnes is a bored law student who drinks too much wine. Bucky gets on match.com to boost his confidence. What he doesn't expect is a guy using Steve Rogers' pictures on a dating profile. Bucky decides to mess with the guy. After all, what idiot uses Steve Rogers' pictures on a dating site?

Not like it's really him, right? Bucky may need more wine.

let's go have fun | @sebastanbucky

steve x bucky

“Nat wanted me to-” Nat clears her throat and he rolls his eyes. “I wanted to tell you something.” He looks at Steve with a look he hopes says ‘play along’. “Okay. What did you want to tell me?” Bucky has to take a deep breath to keep from laughing again, it helps with his performance as Nat nods encouragingly at him. “I’m gay.” He says, making his voice sound shaky and weak.

the way you came around | sokaless (AO3)

steve x bucky

After a while, Bucky says, “You know, this song sounds like it was written for you.” “That's funny,” Steve remarks. “I chose it because it reminded me of you.” Steve gives Bucky an iPod full of his favourite songs from the 21st century to help him deal with his nightmares. Bucky has a new mission- to find out who Steve is in love with, because there are a few too many unrequited love songs on that iPod.

stuck on you | wearing_tearing (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

“Bucky? You don’t look so hot.”

Bucky makes a tiny little sound in the back of his throat, only to start coughing. Of course he doesn’t look hot. He’s sick and he’s dying and Steve obviously isn’t attracted to him.

you have the place next to my place | justanotherStonyfan (AO3)

cap steve x modern bucky

prompt: “We live in adjacent apartments and our bedrooms are on opposite sides of a very thin wall and one night I heard you crying and talked to you through the wall” AU

Captain America helps the Vet next door.

you’ve got (30) new matches | williamkaplans (AO3)

steve x bucky

When everyone finds out Steve's bi thanks to Bucky's recovering memories, Natasha kicks up her match-making into high gear. Steve has zero luck, but Natasha won't give up, especially when Sam (jokingly) suggests online dating. It isn't long before Steve finds someone, a someone who seems eerily familiar.

perfectly right wrong number | melonbutterfly (AO3)

cap steve x modern bucky

It all starts because Steve is too dumb to handle his smartphone.

A wrong number AU in which Bucky Barnes doesn't enter Steve's life (meaning: Bucky wasn't born until the eighties, but Steve is still Captain America) until Steve accidentally dials the wrong number. Wherein there is a lot of texting, some advice via Natasha and Darcy, a bit of pining, and a first date in an amusement park. Oh, and on top of being a disabled veteran, Bucky is a professional catwalker. Literally.

put your number in my phone | MacksDramaticShenanigans (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Steve tucks his phone back into his pocket and turns back to the computer. He only has to click a few times before he finds the link to the questionnaire and opens it, inputting the participant number before hitting next. The beginnings of the consent form fills the page, and all Steve has left to do now is wait for the participant— one James Barnes, according to the website— to show up.

Thankfully, Steve doesn’t end up having to wait very long. James Barnes shows up ten minutes early and knocks on the door before cracking it open and peeking in.

“Oh, hi,” he says, when he spots Steve sitting at the desk. He pushes the door open all the way and steps into the room just as Steve spins in the chair to face him.

“Um, I’m, uh, a bit early, but I’m here for the decision making study,” James continues, clear blue eyes flickering around the room before landing on Steve again. The skin between his eyebrows crinkles up a little, and god, Steve probably shouldn’t find his uncertainty as cute as he does. “Am I in the right place?”

wouldn’t it be nice | MacksDramaticShenanigans (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

"You are never going to believe what just happened," Bucky bemoans, shaking his head. He's at Steve's side in a moment and doesn't bother to give any warning before he dramatically falls into Steve's lap. Steve just barely manages to save his book from getting squashed.

"What is it?" Steve asks, matching Bucky's dramatic tone. "What am I not going to believe?"

"I just got off the phone with Natasha," he starts. "She cancelled on me!" Bucky throws his arms up, nearly smacking Steve in the face in the process.

Steve carefully places his hand on Bucky's forearm and lowers it away from his face.

"You're kidding," he says, a frown curving onto his lips at the news.

"I wish I was," he sighs. Bucky presses his lips together into a disappointed line and deflates against the back of the couch, slinking down Steve's thighs a little. "Who goes to Coney Island alone? How pathetic is that?"

Steve snorts, earning a glare from Bucky, and pats Bucky's thigh. "Aw, don't be such a sourpuss, Buck," he says. "Who said anything about going alone?"

all jokes aside | darksknight (AO3)

steve x bucky

"Before we know it Banner’s gonna be makin’ insinuations.” (Everyone "jokes" about Steve and Bucky being in a relationship until, eventually, they admit that they are.)

barnes & rogers and the goddamn truth

steve x bucky (teacher au)

There are three well-known facts at Shield High:

1. The history teacher Mr. Barnes is a stone-cold terror, and it’s not even because he only has one arm. 2. The other history teacher, Mr. Rogers, is a mysterious enigma, and it’s something to do with the body of a Greek God and contradicting stories of his past. (They’re all rumours, anyway.) 3. Mr Barnes and Mr Rogers hate each other.

Bucky wouldn’t have it any other way.

in the shadows | DragonWannabe (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky

Five times they thought they were almost caught, one time someone found out, and one time they didn't have to hide.

OR:

Bucky and Steve grew up in a time when people like them went to jail.

single and looking | Jaiden_S (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky

"Bucky held his place with his index finger and turned the magazine over to check the date on the cover. It was brand new, just out this month. An unexpected cord of anxiety tightened in Bucky’s chest. Single and looking? Frantically, he flipped back to the article. What exactly was Steve looking for? According to the article, Steve’s dream girl should be intelligent, altruistic, well-versed in current events and have a wicked sense of humor. Oh, and he had a thing for high heels and red lipstick. Bucky’s stomach churned as he re-read the article. Was that really what Steve wanted? Make-up and stilettos?"

A slightly sappy tale of two utterly besotted super-soldiers who excel at miscommunication.

these american dreams (ain’t no white picket fences left for me) | kariye (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky

In which Bucky has a house, a dog, an herb garden, and a serious case of insomnia. Welcome to Havensport, Indiana (population 8,294), where Tom’s Neighborhood Grocer stays open all night, little old ladies call the car shop to get their refrigerators repaired, and the heat of summer days and the length of summer nights can make you think that this perfect world will last forever.

i’ve been careless with a delicate man | paraxdisepink (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky

Steve lets SHIELD think he and Bucky were boyfriends so they’ll let him see the Winter Soldier in medical.

knock on wood | 74days (AO3) 

steve x bucky (modern au)

Steve Rogers lives a quiet, steady life, until his next door neighbour moves in and starts having incredibly energetic sex every night. All Steve wants is for him to move his bed away from the wall so the damn headboard doesn't knock a hole through his wall.

progressively bigger keys | spinawren (AO3)

steve x bucky

“A very little key will open a very heavy door.” ― Charles Dickens, Hunted Down

Steve and Bucky, it appears, have less need for a key and more use for a battering ram in trying to come out of the closet.

(The one where Steve tries to do one thing (one thing!) without causing a national ruckus, but the press are determined to see Bucky as Steve's best friend. And nothing more.)

stucky discover gay rights | Alicia_Borealis (AO3)

steve x bucky

“Then, why-” Steve stopped himself and looked at Bucky, who had tears rolling freely down his cheeks. “We’re- we’re not sick?”

“Wait, what?” Tony asked.

“Being a homosexual, it isn’t… wrong?”

-

The story of how Steve Roger's loved and lost Bucky, then how he got him back and then how he realised he was allowed to love him after all.

thursday nights with bucky barnes | Ellessey (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Steve has a comfortable, well-worn routine for his Thursday nights, until the old man who runs the laundromat breaks his hip.

Then Steve has Bucky instead.

to seek a nood-er world | jehans (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky

Send noodz

Steve has been staring at his phone for the last six minutes, eyes narrowed so much they’re almost closed at this point, trying to figure out what the hell Bucky means. Noodz? What the fuck are noodz?

Listen, Steve is at least marginally aware of modern pop culture. He’s heard of nudes — not that nudes are exactly a modern invention; artists have been creating them for millennia — and he does know that people tend to misspell words to be cute or funny. They did that when he was young, too. Because time is a flat circle, apparently.

But, wait—does that mean…?

No. Not possible. Bucky isn’t asking Steve to send him…nudes.

Right?

tied ‘round your throat | sleepypercy (AO3) (18+)

police officer steve x serial killer bucky

Steve's a small-town police officer trying to track a serial killer who's been in Steve's bed the whole time.

much tattoo about nothing | Deisderium (AO3) (18+)

cap steve x modern bucky

Steve Rogers gets a lot of email requests, but never one like this: James Barnes wants to use his healing factor to practice tattoos.

Turns out tattoos give Steve boners.

the perfect man | Ellessey (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Setting up a dating profile is decidedly not in Bucky's skill-set, but against all odds he manages to connect with someone who makes the one-night stand he thought he wanted feel like not nearly enough.

kiss me and take off your clothes | steveandbucky (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Steve Rogers is dared to send a dick pic to a blog which critiques dick pics (run by none other than Bucky Barnes). Hilarity ensues.

i can’t dare to dream about you anymore | steveandbucky (AO3) 

steve x bucky (modern au)

Steve considers himself to be a pretty open-minded guy, which is why he can't quite understand why he feels so uncomfortable whenever he sees his gay roommate kissing guys. He's not homophobic, but how else can he explain the way his stomach twists at the sight?

It takes him a while to catch on.

exam room b | steveandbucky (AO3)

modern steve x nurse bucky

“Wait, what do you mean he asked for me?”

“He asked if the cute male nurse with the ponytail was working today. I assume he meant you.”

kickstart my heart | Kalee60 (AO3) (18+)

doctor steve x modern bucky

Bucky’s Wednesday wasn’t off to a great start. Not only did he wake up in a hospital with his annoyed best friend staring down at him, his treating Doctor just happened to be way too familiar, and the reason for that was slightly mortifying.

With misunderstandings in the air, a snarky nurse who is a pain in his butt and the ugliest neck brace known to man attached to his body. There was no way his Wednesday was ever going to improve. Could it?

you make me feel.. | kalika_999 (AO3) (18+)

cap steve x modern bucky

All Steve wanted was to take a breather, decompress after a mission and go out for a jog in the rain. He wasn't expecting to hide out in a bookstore filled with new and used books or that the employee that worked there thought he was an absolute loser and didn't even realize he was insulting Captain America.

nothing in the world that could stop it | rainbow_nerds (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Bucky just wanted to send his best friend a picture of his cat being an idiot while he was taking a bath. Was it really his fault for forgetting the full length mirror right opposite the tub?

rescue me and hold me in your arms | 74days (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Bucky is on the worst date of his life, and what he really needs of for this waitress to get the message he's sending her with his mind to rescue him. She doesn't, but she does send someone to extract him from a night of torture...

odd ways | peterbparker (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

“And it would have been an amazing night with my son if he wasn’t distracted by the hot guy on the other side of the room,” Sarah sighed, shaking her head. “He’s been looking over at you for the past fifteen minutes.”

Bucky choked on the mouthful of beer he had just taken.

“What?” he croaked. Things were starting to make a little more sense now.

“Right?” Sarah said, waving her hand towards her son. “He completely ignored my garden stories because he’s been making eyes at you so I decided to come over and introduce myself.”

series

rare is this love (keep it covered) | @musette22 (18+)

cap steve x modern bucky

It’s 2014. Captain America has been out of the ice for three years and is trudging along, saving the world and trying to get used to living in the future. Steve thinks he knows how the rest of his life is going to pan out – a life of duty, which he chose when he signed up to be Erskine’s science experiment. But then, he meets Bucky Barnes: the out-of-this-world-gorgeous mechanic and war vet, who turns Steve’s life upside down and makes him question everything he thought he knew. Slowly, Steve comes to realize there is more to life than duty and punching Nazis. Just one problem though: how on earth does a 96-year-old virgin who only just realized he may not be entirely straight make the transition from crush to relationship? Cue healthy amounts of self-doubt, awkward flirting, pretty blushing, existential crises, emotional growth, and maybe, possibly, a sexual awakening.

coming up easy | @musette22 (18+)

steve x bucky (modern au)

“Listen, I was just thinking,” Steve says, his face open, eyebrows raised in a tentatively hopeful expression. “Why don’t you come stay at my place for a while? I’ve got an office that I barely use, and a change of scenery might do you good, right? Help you beat that writer’s block?” With a crooked smile, he adds, “I promise I’m not a serial killer.”

While Bucky would normally crack a joke about how that’s exactly what a serial killer would say, right now, all he can do is blink at Steve in surprise, heart tripping over itself in his chest. Steve wants him to come and stay at his place. In Massachusetts. Just the two of them.

"Oh," Bucky croaks. "I- Wow."

“I mean, no pressure,” Steve says hastily. “Totally fine if you don’t wanna. I just thought I’d offer, in case it might help, y’know?”

“Yeah.” Bucky ignores the little voice in his head that sounds an awful lot Nat and Becca, telling him he’s setting himself up for heartbreak. “I mean, if you’re sure, that would be amazing.”

4 minute window | @cesperanza

steve x bucky

"Look, if they catch me," Bucky muttered, "they're either going to kill me or they're going to put me in a box with a little window and—Steve, I can't."

swapped | writeonclara (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

if u wanted my number u couldve just asked

u didnt have to steal my whole phone ;)

Steve stared down at his phone, confused. He didn't recognize the number – except, oh wait, he really did. That was his number. On his phone.

He flipped the phone over, then slid one hand down his face. Not his phone.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

[stupid fucking] brooklyn hipster bros | relenaflanel (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Bucky's mother gives him an ultimatum. Bucky doesn't respond well.

All Barneses are stubborn assholes, Steve observes, as though he doesn't see the irony of calling someone else stubborn. Or an asshole.

And Bucky can't even deny he is a total asshole for lying to his mother about dating Steve just so he doesn't have to bring someone else to her wedding, but damn if he's not going to give the lie everything he has.

brought to brightness | eyres (AO3)

cap steve x modern bucky

Army veteran Bucky Barnes has fallen in love with Steve, a guy he met online a few months after he returned from Afghanistan. Only problem is, he doesn't know Steve's last name or even what he looks like.

When his sister helps him send his story into MTV's Catfish, he's hoping they can help him meet Steve or, at least, let him move on with his life if Steve isn't real. Little does he know, Steve and Captain America have more in common than just a first name.

slide to answer | relenaflanel (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

"What do I do?” Steve appealed into the phone. “I’m freaking out.”

There was silence on the other end of the line. It lasted so long that Steve pulled the receiver away from his ear and frowned at it. Pay phones were old. Maybe this one wasn’t working despite the obvious dial tone when he picked up.

“Ok,” a stranger’s voice said over the phone. “First acknowledge the fact that you dialed the wrong number, but be quick about it because my cab is a few blocks away from my own plans and I’m about to drop some truth bombs on you.”

how to woo the winter soldier | writeonclara (AO3)

steve x bucky

“I think I’m ready to date again,” Steve said.

“What,” Natasha said.

“What?” Clint said, lowering his binoculars. He blinked at the dumbstruck look on the Captain’s face, then followed his gaze to where he was staring dopily at—at the Winter fucking Soldier.

“Steve, no,” Clint groaned.

Or: Steve courts the Winter Soldier.

all these things that i’ve done | @not-withoutyou 

steve x bucky

Steve was the patron saint of waiting too long. Bucky was atoning for his sins. Maybe they’d both been forsaken, abandoned by the light. Maybe they’d find a way back to each other again.

Post civil war, if things had gone differently.

find a way (to make it back home) | belwrites (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky (college au)

Fresh off a year abroad, Head Resident Assistant Steve Rogers finds his senior year of college to be full of changes, and he's not just talking about the growth spurt. He's more concerned with the fact that his best friend...isn't talking to him? Is dating his ex? May or may not be missing an arm?

In which Steve has no fucking clue what's going on, but he's trying, Bucky learns how to communicate with his best friend again, and everyone quietly panics about the future.

is it pretending if i already want you? | OhCaptainMyCaptain (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Based on prompt: Pretend Boyfriends AU where one of their families is always wondering why they're never in a relationship, so the other offers to pretend to be their boyfriend for some family event

the roommate | layersofart, Niitza (AO3)

cap steve x modern bucky

In which Steven G. Rogers, a.k.a. Captain America, gets a roommate. Who rapidly turns into his "roommate"—in the euphemistic sense of the word.

It takes SHIELD and the rest of the Avengers an absurd amount of time to notice.

dear mr. postman | odetteandodile (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Steve and Bucky revive an old friendship, get married (but totally just as friends, for reasons), and navigate a few of the many trials of the heart that come with falling in love with your best friend.

fate will play us out | steveandbucky (AO3) (18+)

cap steve x modern bucky

Bucky has landed himself a job with Stark Industries. He doesn't know yet that the job is actually being the PR manager for the Avengers.

Bucky has also started dating Steve Rogers. He also doesn't know yet that Steve is Captain America.

Bucky's life is about to get a whole lot more exciting.

the avengers hate club | notebooksandlaptops (AO3)

pop star steve x modern bucky

Bucky falls hopelessly for Steve and starts an Avengers hate club with the lead singer of the Avengers.

songbird | chicklette (AO3) (18+)

modern steve x musician bucky

At 43, James Barnes is a washed up old man. He’s got a dozen Grammys in the hall closet, an agent that can’t get him a deal, a decade-old case of writer’s block, a moody teen-aged daughter, and the gorgeous actress Natasha Romanova for an ex-wife. Well, one of them anyway. He’s a man who’s given up on finding joy in his life, and if it wasn’t for his kid, he’d have probably found a way to quit the world a long time ago.

Enter Steven Grant Rogers, struggling twenty-something, orphan, and someone who has no idea who Barnes is, other than some musician his mom liked a lot. The two men meet by accident, doing nothing more than passing the time in a quiet bar. But when a pap gets a shot of the two men embracing, Bucky takes it as a chance to finally come out as bisexual, and his agent makes him a proposition: Ten new songs and one very sweet boyfriend will get him a new record deal that will maybe, just maybe put him back on top.

Now all he has to do is write the songs, convince the kid, and not fall in love. Should be easy, right?

the right partner | LeeHan (AO3) (18+)

cap steve x ws bucky

Steve meets a beautiful man with a bright laugh on a sunny day in Italy. Captain America meets the elusive Winter Soldier moments later.

Date Bucky Barnes. Defeat the Winter Soldier. Bring down Hydra. How hard could it be?

#stucky fic #stucky fic recs #steve x bucky #steve rogers x bucky barnes #stucky #bucky barnes #steve rogers

[hansolmates]

the proposal (m)

banner done by the ammmahhzzing @eerieedits​

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“For fuck’s sake—”

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

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

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

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

“Done and done.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’ve been seeing red for days. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you get Taemin’s second draft?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Trouble in paradise?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh… hot?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Favorite movie?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hard.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s part of the family, isn’t he?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Which means?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excuse me? You don’t even know him!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kiss kiss kiss!” 

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

“Kiss him before I do!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please don’t say it.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it ‘Rotten Love’?” 

“That’s the one.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“What movie?” 

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

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

“Jung Hoseok!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Always.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Already out the door, bossman.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Owie, ow, ow—fuck you! Ow!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you say something?” 

“I said, I’m sorry.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You were worried?” 

“Shut up.” 

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

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

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

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

Jungkook locks his jaw, gnawing at his cheek as he mulls on his decision. “Wouldn’t I look like a bad partner if I leave you?”

“Nah, this has happened before. Almost always someone gets injured on the trip. Last time something like this happened I was eight and I got five stitches on my leg. This is nothing. You’re fine.” 

“But still.” 

“Fine, you wanna make it up to me?” 

You scan the room for any ideas, and it settles on a trio of girls huddled by the register of the built-in café. They’re pretty snow bunnies, decked out in sweater dresses and fur lined boots. They remind you a little of The Powerpuff Girls, all in pastels and attached to the hip. Their gaze has taken hostage in Jungkook’s frame, blatantly ignoring the fact that majority of his attention is directed towards you. You wonder why you haven’t noticed them sooner, because now the staring is getting borderline discomforting. 

Slipping off his goggles with your free hand, you gesture subtly to the girls. “They think you’re hot. Go flirt with them a little and get me a free drink, I’m sure they’ll pay for you.” 

He doesn’t understand the correlation, “Why would I do that?” 

You shrug, separating the strands of hair that stick to his forehead. “Lisa and Namjoon do it all the time when they go clubbing. They compete and pretend they’re single for like two hours, and then they keep a tally of how many people offer to buy them a drink.” 

“That is completely different, but I’m open to trying it when we get back to the city.” he acknowledged briefly, getting up from his crouching position. “I got a better idea.” 

Puzzled, you watch him saunter over to the register. Like bees to the honey, the girls follow Jungkook with their eyes, watching him exaggeratedly mull over the menu. 

He spares the slightest of head inclinations to the drooling trio, “Hello ladies.” The smile is not flirtatious, but kind. 

You suppress a giggle, burying your chin in your scarf as you watch the whole interaction. You don’t even know why you asked Jungkook if he would flirt with those girls, as he kept most of his dates private over the years. You picture a college-aged Jungkook getting his daily breakfast on his way to class, ignoring the way his presence attracts heads. 

The barista hands Jungkook a tray filled with a plastic cup of ice, and a cup filled with something hot, and a chocolate croissant. He grabs a straw from a tray, stabbing it in the hot drink’s lid. 

“Excuse me,” one of the girls coquettishly puts her hands behind her back, puffing her chest out as she leans over Jungkook’s order. “The regular croissants actually taste better in my opinion.” 

“Well my wife’s had a hard day, so I think she deserves something sweet.” 

He doesn’t even turn around as he makes a beeline to where you’re seated on a loveseat, carefully placing the tray on the coffee table. 

“Your better idea was making them jealous?” you ask, unsure of his intentions. 

He shrugs, “College-Jungkook always wanted to show off his girlfriend like that, so indulge me for a second, alright?”

Rolling your eyes you reply, “My life is about indulging you. Don’t forget the trips I’ve made to the grocery store when your personal fridge was out of banana—”

“I thought I said we don’t speak of those hard times,” he cuts you off, “ever.”  

You stop him from filling up your ice bag with the ice he brought. “C’mon Jeon, you’re burning daylight out there. I got this. You’ve stalled enough, go have fun in the snow with Jimin, you adrenaline junkie.” 

He scrunches his nose, but relents when you throw him his jacket and goggles. Before he pulls on his gloves, he cups your face with both hands to pull you in a kiss. His hands are cold from the ice, gluing you in place in fear of him kissing you too hard. But it’s barely that, a brushing of lips so tender as he takes extra care with your open lip. 

“Is this also a self-indulgent request?” you pucker, “who knew there was a hormonal teenager under that editor-in-chief’s body.” 

His eyes flicker to the audience in the back, and you don’t need to look behind you to note that they’re glaring daggers in your head. It’s like you’re straight out of a rom-com. 

“You’re leaving me to the bunnies,” you say teasingly. 

“Then hurry up and get better so you can join us,” he taunts, “or else you can’t help me bury Jimin in the snow.” 

It’s a tempting offer that makes you down your drink so you can enjoy the rest of your day. 

Light seeps through your windows, rays kissing your eyelashes and willing them to open. You groan, hand splaying out to wake up Jungkook. When you find his space empty and cool, you sit up and search for your fake-fiancé. 

He’s on the floor, smack in the middle of his morning workout. Your iPad is under his body, and somehow he’s managed to find a setting where the document scrolls for him automatically. He’s not wearing his Airpods, so you rasp, “Jeon, you’re crazy. I get the morning workout, but you don’t have to look over any more transcripts. I think you’ve read enough for this week.” 

“It helps me ignore the burn,” he says shortly, and you see the ripples of his back flex with every push-up. “And I wouldn’t have to do so much reading if my assistant would just do her job.” 

“I already told you, I’m not working during my vacation.” you throw off the sheets, padding to your closet. “I’m going to pick the tree today. You should go to the mall with my mom and Jimin to pick out some new ornaments.” 

“What?” he gets up, and you ignore the perfect view of tight muscles decorating his abs. Exactly how long was he awake for to have sweat clinging to his shirt? You’re going to short-circuit and it’s barely 8:30. “But I wanna go help pick out the tree.” 

“You don’t have to do that, Joon and Yoongi got it.” 

“Yoongi, really? You think he can carry a tree?” 

“This isn’t a pissing contest, Jeon.” you settle on a burgundy Patagonia jacket and grey leggings. “Besides, Yoongi and I are just friends.”

“You sure about that, baby girl?” 

You whip around to poke at his chest, and you ignore how smug he looks. “Do not test me, Jeon. Like you said, I’m with you every step of the way in this marriage. I’m not going to jeopardize that over some childhood crush.” 

“Wow, your life is really turning into a Wattpad entry,” he admonishes, “fake-fiancé still pining over his older brother’s best friend, really high-qual stuff.” 

“I’m serious.” you grit, “I took a week off so I can get away from you and that was ruined, so I would like a little bit of space today.” 

And that gets Jungkook to back away. His face deflates a little, and you feel a little guilty for making him upset, but you stab that thought down and convince yourself that he deserves it. It’s not like he cares about you, he just wants to show off to the boys.

“Fine,” he turns around to put on a fresh shirt, and you almost notice the pout marrying his face. “You could’ve just told me you wanted space. I’m getting kind of tired of you too, you know.” 

He flops on the bed and you huff in reply, quickly throwing on your attire inside your closet while he watches a YouTube video. You check your phone, and at 8:59 a knock is at your door. Jungkook doesn’t bother to get up to answer, and you open the door to see a sleepy Yoongi with a paper cup in his hand. 

“An English breakfast with two sugars and a dash of milk, baby girl.” 

You mask your wince at the pet name. It hadn’t bothered you when you were young, but its starting to feel coddling now that Jungkook is making you hyper-aware of the attention. “Perfect,” you faux-beam, the hot beverage warm your fingers. 

“I’ll just warm up the car and—”

“Babeeeeee,”  the deepest, sexiest voice echoes from your bed and out in the hallway. He sounds absolutely tempting, and needy. You freeze at the way your boss can so easily pretend he’s exhausted and wanting you, “come back to bedddddd. I’m not done with you yet.” 

Yoongi’s ears are red, “Aaand, I’ll let you finish whatever business you have.” 

The older man bolts out of there, and you snap your head back to look at an innocent Jungkook. He tilts his head at your bout of anger. 

“You know, I have half a mind to fling this tea down your shirt.” 

“What?” he looks at you like a child caught with a hand in the cookie jar. “He can’t be the only one who can call you baby.” 

Honestly, you didn’t mean to lash out on Jungkook like that. You did need to put up a face as you were each other's significant others, but it doesn’t mean you have to be together all the time. To top it all off you’ve been feeling weird as of late, and you can only attribute these terrible feelings to a certain brunet who’s been sleeping in your bed. 

But you pin these feelings for another time, because you need to enjoy what little quality time you have with your brother. 

“Hey, whaddya think of this one?” It's just you and Namjoon picking the tree, and Yoongi’s sitting in the cabin keeping warm. He said to call him once you’ve decided, since it is your house. 

“Hm, it’s fine.” you shrug, inhaling the pine. “Maybe a little too tall.” 

Namjoon nods, and you follow him to the next row of greenery. He’s been pensive this whole time, and you have a feeling he’s hiding something. Surrounded by pine and the fresh winter air he says, “Hey, I just wanna say sorry.” 

“Why, did you like that tree over there? I don’t mind it, we can go back!” 

“What, no? I’m sorry for being weird around Jungkook.” 

“Huh?” sure, you noticed the weird language and terseness he gave Jungkook initially, but you chalked it out as big brother issues. 

You two continue to walk around the forest aimlessly, not really tree hunting. 

“I was just upset that the engagement was so sudden,” Namjoon starts, and you feel the guilt start to set camp in your stomach. “And I don’t know, at first he just didn’t seem like your type? I always thought you wanted to date someone gentle, someone you could hold and depend on. He looked so serious, and maybe a little immature.”

“He is a little immature,” you agree softly, digging your boots in the snow, “but I don’t love him any less because of it. We’re growing together.” Shit, why was that so easy for you to say? 

“Figured,” and Namjoon stops to place a hand on your shoulder, “I see the way he looks at you, and you can’t fake love like that.” 

Namjoon’s admonition is so convincing that you almost convince yourself that it is something. 

Something is bothering Jungkook, and he doesn’t know why. 

It’s not the billions of charges he made on his credit card for new ornaments, because it simultaneously inflated his ego and impressed your mom. 

It’s not the way Jimin hangs onto his every word and doesn’t let up, because it is refreshing to have your cousin find a genuine interest in him. 

Jungkook, Jimin and your mom have been taking laps around the mall for the past hour. They’ve floated around here and there, picking out whatever catches their eye for the tree. 

Jimin’s in the middle of explaining the Jamba Juice story when a glimmering window display catches his eye. 

“Hun, have you not bought her a present yet?” your mom says over his shoulder. 

“No,” he exhales, embarrassed that he just admitted he didn’t think of getting you anything in front of your mom. “She doesn’t ask for anything, really.” Besides her book published, a raise, and a potential promotion as editor, but they didn’t need to know that much. 

“Good thing you’re with the right people!” Jimin cheers, ushering him into the jewelry store. 

Funny enough, he knows exactly what to get you. Once he points it out, Jimin and your mom “ooh” and “aah” respectively, agreeing that what he chose was perfect. If you had asked Jungkook a week ago what kind of jewlery you like, he’d give you a dumb look and say “something shiny.” But that’s what’s bothering him. He just walked right into the store, saw what was right, and everything just clicked. 

Jungkook pins that thought for later, because once their shopping is done they’re back at your villa, arranging the ornaments and detangling the lights that have been holed up in the closet for eleven months. 

Jimin and he are sitting on the living room floor, stabbing thread through popcorn. He really only saw this craft in the movies, and the small part of him is amazed that you and your family go through the hard work to make your holidays so warm. 

Your mom appears from her bedroom, clutching something in her hand. She sits in front of Jungkook, a huge smile on her face. 

“Before you say anything,” and it strikes him how similar you are to your mother. There’s that tone he always receives before he gets new news, or the way you’re eager to share something that will make him happy. “I don’t want you to think this is a luxurious gift or anything. But I realized that you don’t have a wedding band so I went through my old cases and found this.” 

She opens her palm slowly, revealing a simple black band. 

Jungkook’s lips part to form words, but his vocal cords betray him. At first glance, this ring could’ve been mistaken for one of Jimin’s plentiful rings adorning his fingers. Upon closer inspection however, Jungkook notes that this band is thinner and more worn. The metal looks strong and old, the slight scratches and faded color revealing that it was a well-loved piece of jewelry. 

Your mom is offering Jungkook a wedding band. 

“If you don’t like it, that’s okay!” your mom says quickly, nerves radiating because of Jungkook’s silence. “It was my grandfather’s. Don’t feel as if you have to accept it. It’s not a wedding band persay, but I think it matches and it looks about your size and we didn’t get you a Christmas gift so—”

“It’s perfect.” Jungkook tells her firmly, sending him a tight-lipped smile. “Thank you, I guess we kind of rushed the engagement so I didn’t think of getting a band of my own.” 

Your mother is grateful, dropping the ring in Jungkook’s awaiting palm. “I think my daughter should be the one who puts it on you, don’t you think?” 

“Right,” he echoes, and he just stares at the ring in his hand, feeling weird in his chest. He can’t remember the last time someone put this much thought in getting him something this significant. He can’t accept this ring, but he can’t refuse it either. “I could never find something with this much value from a little shop in New York, so thank you.” 

“Oh, and while we’re on the topic of New York,” Jimin puts down his completed popcorn wreath, “y/n said she already put in her off days for Easter, so you should too. It’ll be at my place this year, and I live by an indoor skydiving zone. She mentioned you’re an adrenaline junkie.” 

“She also mentioned that your birthday’s in September.” your mom pops in, “We were thinking we could take Friday off and stop by for the weekend. I’ve always wanted to see Hamilton!” 

Jungkook knows they’re trying to cheer him up. They’re trying to make him feel part of the family, feel wanted. But he can’t remember the last time he’s felt wanted unless it’s for a book deal or a business exchange. It’s been so long since he’s felt this warm, and he didn’t realize how much he yearned for it until he proposed to you.

“Hey man,” Jimin puts an arm around his trembling shoulders, “are you alright?” 

“Fine,” he’s crying, and doing a shit job at hiding the tears. “It’s alright, I just,” he can’t even find the strength to get up and walk away from this. Is it pathetic that he’s breaking down in the comfort of your cousin and mom, starved for affection? “I just, I miss my family. It’s just the four of us, but they’re all the way in Korea and it’s been awhile since I’ve really celebrated anything with them. They visit sometimes but it’s not the same, y’know? And work is so stressful but I’m not in a position to say that. And your family is just so, so nice and it makes me miss them even more. You’re all so lucky to support each other like this.” 

Jimin and your mom sandwich him like an Oreo. It’s almost funny, how two smaller humans are comforting this big human and not the other way around. “Poor baby, it’s your family too.” 

Pathetic. It’s pathetic how much he wishes to have a family like yours, but he can’t have that. 

“Can we please not tell y/n about this?” Jungkook wishes, leaning his head on your mom’s. “She’s going through a lot right now with work and stuff, I’d rather just talk to her about this after the holidays, if that’s okay.” 

“It’s quite alright, sweetheart,” your mom runs a hand through his hair, and his eyes automatically flutter closed, “just remember, your feelings matter too, okay?” 

You and Jungkook slip into bed at the same time, murmuring half-hearted “how was your days” and brief descriptions of your outings. It’s a little awkward considering the morning’s events, but not unbearable. 

“The tree smells really nice,” Jungkook tries, looking up from his phone. 

“Yeah, makes the whole room smell like Christmas.” 

“Yeah.”

“Did you have a good time shopping, find anything good?” 

“Yeah.”

“That’s nice.” 

[11:29] Jimin: hey, you know my room’s right next to yours right? 

[11:29] Jimin: we share a goddamn wall and im NOT hearing shit

[11:29] Jimin: are you putting that baby blanket to good use ;)

[11:30] You: YOU”REE DISGUSTING are we even family!!!!  Can i disown a first cousin?? 

[11:30] Jimin: i’m just sayin.. U said it was fantastic

You throw your phone away, letting it slide off to the mattress and onto the baby blanket. Yes, the baby blanket is unfortunately here to stay. Over the course of three days, the quilt is like a ball in a tennis match between you and your mother. You’ve given up and just kept it on the floor. 

“I have a question,” you say aloud, motioning to your bed partner. 

“Shoot.” 

“Was it true when you said I was the only girl you knew well enough to be your wife?”

“Of course, that’s why we’re here.” 

“I’m just wondering, because I really thought you could pick any girl in the office to be yours.” you stuff your hands under the covers, playing with your ring. “I mean, you’re kinda-sorta handsome. You could’ve picked someone just as pretty and they would have studied your whole life story for you.” 

Jungkook's phone falls in his lap, and he looks at you like you’ve lost a couple brain cells. “Normally, I would eat up the fact that you admitted I was attractive. But do you realize you’re just as beautiful, if not more?” 

What? 

“I know it’s unprofessional, but how professional can we get when we’re married, but you’re the whole package, y/n.” and he says it with such fervor, you can’t formulate a response. “I wouldn’t have wanted anyone else. No one else can take my shit and throw it right back in my face, or debate with me for hours on end about a novel’s direction. Only you can do that.” 

“I’m sorry,” you shake your head, “thanks, you’re right. I’m just clouded, and stressed. And Jimin’s being an ass and it’s really bothering me.” 

His chocolate eyes flicker in the darkness of your bedroom, making note of your phone on the floor. “What’d he say?” 

“It’s stupid, he said that he thinks it’s weird he hasn’t heard us bang all week,” you force a laugh, “it’s my fault though, he wouldn’t get off my back so I gave up and told him the sex was fantastic.” 

“Are you worried he’s unconvinced?” 

“A little, maybe? I don’t know.” you’re wrinkling your bedsheets now, turning the cotton into putty as your sweaty palms wring at the edge. 

“I don’t mind giving him a show.” Jungkook blurts, and you instinctively pull the covers closer to your chest, even though you’re fully clothed. 

“What, like fake moan into the wall?” 

“There are things you can do over the clothes,” he says matter-of-factly, pulling the sheet of his bedside down slightly. “And you just said you’re stressed. I’d be a bad fiancé to not let you relieve some of that tension.” 

Jungkook opens his arms and gestures for you to get on his lap. Your body is hot all over, and you can’t tell if it’s because you’re horrified or aroused. Maybe a little of both. 

“Are you kidding—you’re my boss!” 

“And we’re consenting adults!” he narrows his eyes at you, “don’t say you’ve never thought about it before.”

And the sick, twisted part of you has, a lot. There’s something about a man in a tailored suit and owning up to its power that’s really attractive. Not to mention all those times they’d be traveling for work, stumbling for a quick McDonald's bite at 12AM and he’d be dressed casually in tight black jeans and combat boots. The energy really kept you on your toes. 

“Wow, I really hate late-night talks. All the secrets come out, don’t they?” 

“If it makes you feel better, your ass looks great in pencil skirts,” you turn to him with flared eyes, “what? I’m just trying to let you know I mayhaps find you attractive.” 

“Mayhaps you should stop talking before I regret this.” 

His eyebrows lift and disappear from his bangs, the hair freshly dried and fluffy from his late night shower. He then pats his lap with a little blasé as if to say “hop on”, and you ignore the way how good the seat looks, his boxer briefs doing nothing to hide his unmentionables. 

Trying to fight alongside your last drop of dignity, you take your time. 

“C’mon y/n, don’t make it weird.” 

“It’s been weird, Jeon! Jimin’s next door!” you hiss, backing away slightly, “Give me some time, I can’t just hump my boss!” 

“You’re not humping your boss.” Jungkook has the audacity to grin, the expression looking absolutely sinful in the moonlight. “Think of it as your lover wanting to make you feel good.” 

The bridge between love and hatred is a fine, fine line stemmed by passion. 

Careful, you lift your blankets up and slip out of them, moving to sit up. It’s ridiculous, tiptoeing around your bed to avoid any sudden creaks in the aged wood of your mahogany headboard. 

“We’re out to prove to your family we fuck on the reg,” Jungkook snips, “you can make noise.” 

Within seconds, he’s hauling you on his lap. You squeak in surprise, feeling the thin material of his boxers seep through your thin silk shorts. You wriggle around, monitoring Jungkook’s expression. He does not allude too much, but you take note of the way Jungkook secures you with his hands between the swells of your thighs. 

“I’m not a rollercoaster, stop adjusting like you’re gonna buckle up.” 

Jungkook’s dry humor lightens the mood considerably, and you can’t help but smile timidly at his attempt to make you feel at ease. He lets you take your time, and you never imagined someone so demanding in the office can be so… kind in bed. 

You dip forward to kiss his lips once, twice. He looks needy, but lets you set the pace. You appreciate that. You’re salivating at his willingness to make you feel good, and you whimper as he nibbles on a sensitive spot on your neck. 

You need more. Sensing your urgency when you jerk his chin up, he muffles your sounds with a harsh kiss, taking care to moan deeply into your mouth. The heat is luxurious on this winter night, burgundy kisses exchanged between the sheets like secrets. His tongue slips between your teeth, tasting every inch of you and exploring you like the deepest texts. 

He pulls away slightly, and you’re drowning in his gaze. “Am I still just kinda-sorta handsome now?” he nips at your neck, sucking on a spot between your jaw. 

“N-no,” and you pull him up by the chin, taking in his messy hair and glazed eyes, “you’re fucking sexy,” and you tug your mouth to his once more. 

You don’t even realize that you’re rolling your hips until Jungkook breaks the kiss in favor of grabbing your hips, making sure your core is nestled perfectly between his hardening length. It doesn’t take long for the both of you to get wet, and the silk glides easily between your thighs like butter.

“That’s it, baby girl,” he encourages, one hand reaching up to cup your breast, “use me, make  yourself feel good.” 

“Please, don’t call me that,” you whine against his mouth, trying to keep the mood in, “Babe is fine, but baby girl makes me feel like a little kid and I’m not a little kid.”

“You damn right,” and he lifts his hips to meet yours in a sharp thrust, and you gasp hotly into his mouth. It’s too late to muffle your moans, not when you’re drenched with two pathetic pieces of fabric stopping the both of you. “You’re a gorgeous, intelligent, strong, amazing woman.” 

With every compliment, he does all the work, thrusting with each adjective like he’s blessing poetry into your body. 

“J-Jungkook,” the name is muffled against his shoulder, too fuzzed in ecstasy to be embarrassed by the drool coating his tank top. His hair tickles your shoulder as he nips at your clothed breasts, swirling around your nipple. “I-I, m’gonna come,” 

“You’re almost there huh?” and he slips a hand between you two to find that sweet spot, swirling designs between your shorts. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

And you’re shaking, collapsing into his embrace as he rides out your high. He cradles one hand in your hair as you rub furiously against his other, chasing your pleasure like a starved animal. 

“K-Kook,” you murmur into his neck, finding the strength to roll your hips one more time to check. “You’re still hard, do you want me to help?”

“No.” he’s forthright, and as tired as you are, you force yourself to pick your head up. Sweat lines his brow and his face is flushed, but he’s already helping you off and handing you a tissue from the nightstand. 

“What?” you’re hurt, and don’t want to admit why. 

“Don’t feel like you need to,” he grunts into your forehead, dipping a chaste kiss right in the center. “Just let me do something nice to you for once.” 

As much as you want to, you don’t complain as he tucks you in. You don’t complain when you see a wet stain on his Kirby boxer briefs. You don’t answer back when he checks his phone one more time and pulls you in to press a kiss to your cheek. It’s 12:31. 

“Merry Christmas,” he murmurs into your skin, and turns over so his back faces you. 

Christmas is a loud and eager affair. The entirety of your family piles into your house while still in pajamas, aunts and uncles from other villas running in with their children with their newly opened toys and gadgets. There’s a buffet style breakfast piled on the kitchen island, and you’re all eating in the living room while watching holiday movies. 

Jungkook melds right in, unsurprisingly. He has your baby cousin Dante in his lap, teaching him how to use the controls of his new Nintendo Switch. 

Despite only meeting Jungkook a few days ago, you notice that some of your family have taken the liberty of giving him small presents. You spot a simple silver chain around his wrist, courtesy of Jimin, and a fluffy grey scarf wrapped around his neck, courtesy of your aunt’s impeccable knitting club. 

“He fits right in, doesn’t he?” 

Yoongi hands you your usual cup of tea, and you accept it gratefully. You’re sitting right next to the tree, and you notice that some of the ornaments are miniature books. You absentmindedly run your fingers over the carved wood, especially on the ones that are your favorite titles. 

“Yeah,” you hate to admit, so you whisper it into your mug. But Yoongi can hear, he always does. “I didn’t think it would be this easy.” 

“Easy to love him, or easy to fit into this family?” 

You splutter into your mug, and Yoongi does the right thing by patting your back. It feels a little bit like he’s burping a baby, but otherwise, it soothes your lungs. 

“I am happy for you, you know.” he says, knocking knees with you. “It might not seem like it now, but I truly am.” 

Deciding not to dwell on his subversive confession, you thank him for the tea and excuse yourself. Dante seems like he’s got the hang of MarioKart, so you tug Jungkook by the hand and lead him back into your bedroom. 

“I got you a present, but I didn’t feel like making a scene about it,” you pull out a pink gift bag, tufts of white tissue paper sticking out. “Also, it’s kinda cheap and it was a last minute thing, so don’t have any high expectations.” 

“Gee, you’re really making me feel deserving of this gift,” but he takes his time in unraveling the bag anyway. 

He pulls out a shiny onyx black mug, rolling it between his hands. On one side it’s engraved in gold cursive “World’s Best Boss” but on the other side it’s engraved, “World’s Best Husband”. 

“Subtle,” he grins, pulling you into a hug. He gets that it’s a gag gift, but because it’s from you, it's a lot more meaningful. You could’ve easily delved into his bank accounts and see what he buys for himself, but you decided to take the more personal route. 

“Thanks,” he murmurs into your hair. And to really throw you off he says, “For my gift, I’ve decided to publish your novel.” 

You shove him away as if you’ve been stung, and you barely have the voice to ask, “Are you serious, you’ve read my novel? I didn’t even send you the first draft!” 

“We share the same Google Drive, it was easy to find. If you had noticed, it’s the only thing I’ve been reading this week,” he shrugs as if it’s nothing, but he’s in actuality giving you your lifelong dream. “You deserve it, really. I’m sorry if you felt like it wasn’t ready to be read. But it was wonderful, you’re a real wordsmith.” 

“I’m not upset,” you can’t be, not when he smells so good and he’s trying to hug you all over again. “How many copies?”

“10,000.”

“20,000.”

“15,000, and I’ll even give you permission to dedicate your novel to me.” he raises his brows irreverently. 

You scoff at his arrogance, but you don’t admit to confessing that along with professors and your family, you would be dedicating it to him. “Well my gift feels like absolute shit,” you deadpan, “can I have a do-over tomorrow? We can go to the mall or something.”

“You’ve done enough for me,” he disagrees, breaking away from you to place the mug on your desk. “Agreeing to my farfetched proposal, letting me into your home. I think that’s an amazing gift.” 

“You’ve been way too nice,” you look at him wearily, noting the rosiness in his cheeks. 

“You say that like it’s not possible!” 

“Who knows? Maybe the Christmas spirit has performed a miracle, who am I to judge?” and you can’t get enough of the man, running into his heart one more time. Pressing your ear to his chest you sing, “Well, in the Poconos they say, that Jeon Jungkook’s heart grew three sizes that day.” 

It may have not grown three sizes, but if the living room wasn’t so loud, maybe you could’ve heard his heart beating three times as fast. 

The calm after the storm is your favorite part of Christmas. Most of your extended family has left to mull in their own homes, leaving your family to laze around until it’s just you and Jungkook that are awake. 

Jim Carrey’s version of How the Grinch Stole Christmas is playing on Netflix, arguably the only superior rendition of the children's book. The tree is still glowing by the fireplace, soft white lights trickling in the darkened room. 

Earlier in the night, you and Jungkook had cuddled up in the middle of the couch under a blanket, and were too lazy to move even when the entirety of your family vacated. Either of you could’ve easily shoved each other off and went to bed, but here you are, making offhand comments over hot cocoa. Each second that passes by, you’re more aware of how well you two sink between the fabric like you’re meant to do this. The domesticity terrifies you, but you don’t dare to point it out. 

“How does his face do that?” Jungkook turns to you, contorting his face into funny expressions. It’s a poor attempt at the green creature on the screen, but it makes your mouth twitch and you fight the urge to giggle. “It’s like he’s made of rubber.” 

“He has a sense of humor, unlike some people.” 

“Very funny,” he says, turning away to take a sip of his cooca. 

Sinking further into the couch, you unconsciously latch onto him more, savoring his body heat. “Can I confess something?”  

“What’s up?” 

“A week ago, I loathed you. I used to have recurring dreams about you getting run over by a Wonderbread truck. And I was driving the truck.” 

“Wow, that makes me feel so much better.” 

“No really, if I had the opportunity to watch you get hit by a cab, I would’ve paid for it.” 

“If it were possible for me to file for divorce at this very second, now would be time. You are a walking red flag.” 

“Okay, but!” you shush him with a finger to your lips, and he goes cross-eyed at the touch. “After seeing your stellar performance this week and an impeccable display of human emotion. I think after all of this, we could be friends.” 

“Fwends?” he says through your finger, mouth smushed. “Why whuh we?” 

Instead of lifting your finger right away, you swipe at his cherry lips, getting rid of the marshmallow sticking to the corners. 

“Because we get along.” you say simply.

“Because we’re supposed to be getting married.” 

“No! We’ve always gotten along! We’ve just been too up our asses to notice!” you sit up, appalled. “Here’s my theory, a change of setting has suddenly spurred on your character development—”

“—y’know I really don’t appreciate your use of literary jargon, it’s really pretentious—”

“—because without your external conflict, you have a chance to let loose and enjoy your life for once!” 

Jungkook frowns, adjusting his frame so he slightly hovers you. He’s pretty like this, dressed in fluffy black pajamas and his face soft. His eyes absorb the Christmas fairy lights, and you notice for the first time in two years that there are no longer purple bags under his eyes. 

“I don’t know,” he murmurs, voice so small you wonder if he’s worried to crush the moment. “Friends are hard.” 

You shake your head vehemently, “Friends are easy, keeping them is the hard part.”

He doesn’t know why he’s being so weird about this. You’ve worked for him for over two years, you know him as well as you know your skincare routine, down to the last detail. 

“Jeon, don’t think too hard about this,” you try to get him to lighten up, the intense look in his eyes throwing you in for a loop. It makes the little hamster wheel in your head spin rapidly, and you wonder if you’re really crossing a line. “Jimin said you had a really good time yesterday, I was almost jealous I couldn’t come shopping with you.” 

He cracks a smile at that, “Yeah, Jimin and I shared a moment,” and he leans down to the shell of your ear, “and he said he really enjoyed our moment last night.” 

“Oh my god!” you grab a nearby throw pillow, chucking the rough fabric in his face. 

He breaks into a laugh, but not the wine and dine chuckles that he’d have between terse negotiations for work. It’s a full out giggle, like he’s proud to have riled you up enough to break your resolve. Who knew your angry face could be so cute? 

“I guess if we’ve crossed a line, might as well make it all the way to the end,” Jungkook says easily, running a hand through his chocolate tresses. 

You and Jungkook are leaving the day after tomorrow. Most of your stuff is packed and ready to go, and you’re currently spending the rest of your night at a sit-down dinner with your immediate family plus Jimin. 

It’s peaceful, you muse. Jungkook even offered to help cook. Back at Big Hit not once did he ever bring leftovers from home, always insisting you order something for him during work. Kimchi fried rice is a simple dish, but Jungkook had taken great care in making sure it was cooked properly and adjusted to your family’s tastes. 

Your parents are glowing and enjoying their time with the whole family, a rarity that grows more valuable with age. The meal soothes you like a balm, reminding you of old conversations that had you spew milk out of your nose or Namjoon accidentally spilling beans on your lap. 

“Oh, you should also clear your schedule for the first week of September,” Jimin says absentmindedly, shoving another mouthful of fried rice. “Besides Easter, Jungkook says we can celebrate his birthday and visit for the weekend.” 

“Seriously,” Namjoon balks, sitting up straight as he regards you in disbelief. “You’re sure your Devil of a boss will enjoy you out of his chains for two vacations, god forbid you take the holidays off again.” 

The grip on your fork tightens, but you steel yourself. Honestly, you were wondering why it took Namjoon this long to let it all out. He was always vehemently against your job, as he was the person who got the brunt of your vents when you were stressed. Probably for the sake of Christmas he let it go, but now that it’s over, the topic’s fair game. 

“Oh, c’mon Joonie,” your mother frowns, “not at the table.” 

“He isn’t that bad, Joon.” you reason, completely ignoring Jungkook as you stare straight at your brother. “He means well—”

“Means well?” Namjoon barks a laugh, as if it’s the most laudable thing. “Sis, you cried everyday for a straight month after you were hired.” he places his hands on the table, regarding you carefully, “I had to personally call your doctor in New York to get you sleeping pills, and not to mention that two weeks ago, you were crying again because you were worried he forgot your vacation and would make you work! Don’t tell me he ‘means well’ when I’ve been busy picking up the pieces!” 

At this point, you’re livid. Jungkook’s right here, and while you can’t go ahead and out the fact that he is your boss, you can still have his back. 

They don’t know that you’ve picked the pieces back up, reinforced yourself to create a better version of the person you once were. 

“He does mean well,” you cry, matching your brother’s red tone to a T. “He’s just stressed and genuinely cares about the company. I choose to work long hours because he takes his time in making sure the work we publish is worthwhile, and I support that. He’s hard on me because he knows I have potential. He’s going to make sure I succeed.” 

Namjoon looks at you like you’ve grown two heads. “You’re seriously defending your shitty boss?” 

Jimin puts a hand over Namjoon’s in an attempt to placate him, but he shoves it away.

“Honestly,” Namjoon spits venom, “how can you possibly stand to be around someone who makes your life so miserable?” 

Your meal has gone cold, and your fists clutch desperately at your jeans. The breath is robbed from your lungs, and you can’t look at anyone for fear of them regarding you with guilt. You know since the day you got hired that your family wasn’t exactly enthused at your boss’ level of expectation and work output. But they don’t know the industry, and they don’t even really know Jungkook past the surface level. . 

But you know in their eyes, they’re right. Their daughter left their comfy home to pursue her lifelong dream, only for it to be broken in a matter of weeks. It’s natural to feel protective, and while you’re resilient and were able to get it together as of late, it wasn’t enough for them to understand. As someone who loves you, it’s obvious they’d want to blame your boss, blame Jungkook for your suffering. 

You imagine your father would ask Namjoon to step outside, or your parents would make Jimin pull you and Jungkook out. Neither of those things happen.

A warm, large hand is placed on top of yours. You look towards Jungkook, face unreadable as he squeezes your thigh. 

“Namjoon’s right.” Jungkook utters, pressing his lips together. “You deserve to be treated with respect. The boss has never appreciated the hard work you do, at least not out loud. You’re too good for him.”

“Jungkook,” you gape, putting your other hand over his. 

He pulls away at your touch, glancing at the clock. “This dinner was wonderful,” he says gently, looking apologetic to your parents. “Excuse me, but I promised to call my parents at this time.” 

The excuse is completely half-assed, but no one says anything as he leaves, walking out the door without a coat. The table is terse, with your parents attempting to coax out dessert while Jimin clears the dinner table. You refuse to look at Namjoon, who has no idea why you’re so upset. You wait five minutes before you mumble about getting Jungkook a jacket. 

However, when you open the door he isn’t sitting on the porch. He’s all the way up the street, too far for you to be heard with a yell, and walking farther into town. The black hoodie falls to your side, disappointed. 

Jungkook does in fact, call his parents. Your mother suggested it when she gave him the ring, thinking it would ease his homesickness if he made a better effort to communicate his feelings. 

And so he spends over an hour huddled in a cafe, talking about nothing and everything with his mom and dad. He tells them about the little novelties he’s experienced this week, like making popcorn strings and picking out themed Christmas ornaments. He tells him how he promises to book a flight back to Korea as soon as his work visa goes through. While he doesn’t mention the proposal, he mentions you. He prattles on and on about how strong and beautiful you are, and how you’ve crept up on him and made him realize how awful of a person he was. 

His mom prattles excitedly through the line, saying that women make you realize how much better you can be for them, but she doesn’t know the half of it. 

Jungkook sat there in your dining room, Namjoon boldly telling you off about how miserable he’s made you. 

And yet still, you defended him in ways he never imagined. Your relationship has always been mutual, and prickly at best. You balanced each other out, but he knows he doesn’t deserve you. When he first hired you, he rendered you indispensable like all the other assistants that couldn’t handle it. You’d break eventually. 

And you did break. But you picked up the pieces and put yourself back together, and you didn’t resent him for it. He hated that. How can you trust someone who’s hurt you so much? 

He can’t let you go through with this marriage. You’re wrong. You don’t need him to be successful. 

[11:09] You: mom unlocked the door for you. Jimin and i went out for drinks so idk when ill be back

[11:09] You: please don’t be mad at me

Silly girl, why would he ever be mad at you? 

His plan is simple, Sneak into your villa, grab his luggage, and try to book the earliest flight back to New York. Then, he can come clean to Taeyeon and spend the year in Korea while they work out his visa issues. He’ll quietly pack his things and clear out the office before Monday.  Hopefully by the time he makes it to Busan, he can forgive himself. He’s going to regret missing your expression when you get to hold the first physical copy of your novel. 

This plan proves difficult when he sees Namjoon waiting outside for him, sitting on his luggage and reading a book. His long legs are splayed across the porch, and he doesn’t spare Jungkook a glance.

“Knew something was off,” the older man doesn’t look up from his novel, “found the mug on her desk, bossman.” 

Muttering a curse under his breath Jungkook opens his arms, “Are you gonna beat me up now?” 

“What? No, I’m a lover, not a fighter.” Jungkook scoffs, and watches Namjoon roll his luggage to the back of the van. “And out of the kindness of my heart, I’ll save you the Lyft fare and drive you to the airport.” 

Is he that predictable? He flinches at the sudden jet of the ignition, and he takes heavy, snow-laden steps to the passenger seat. Once buckled in, Namjoon tosses the book in his lap. “Some light reading for the drive.” 

If Namjoon wasn’t the driver, he wouldn’t hesitate to chuck the book at his big, intelligent head. Instead, he glowers, clutching the book tightly. It’s only when they round the corner to a house brightly decorated with lights, does he see what novel Namjoon’s plucked. 

A Mutually-Assured Attachment. Jungkook tosses the book back and forth between his palms, noting the soft cover is so worn it could melt apart in his lap. It feels tended and loved from years of use. 

It’s Jungkook’s first novel, and you had a copy. One of the first editions, if he remembers the cover art correctly. Granted, he thought you had some of his books purely because of your job, but not one from your childhood. Frankly he thought this should have never been published, but he was nineteen and that in itself was a large feat. 

He carefully peels the pages, and takes out his phone to shine the flashlight mode. At the very front, blood red ink is scratched next to the title: “this is THE most pretentious title i’ve read in my life! Don’t disappoint me jeon!!” 

Your handwriting’s all over the place. He sees graphite, gel, and glitter pens mark the margins, as if you’ve come back each time to write something new. The annotations vary, from “this part sucks” to “shit, that’s good i should do that”. You draw little pictures of the objects he’s contrived, from the little brass locket one character cherishes to the facial expressions you imagine they hold. 

And at the very end, your handwriting sits neat and bold on the inside cover: I can do better than him. 

Jungkook chuckles to himself, turning off the light. You’re always right. 

Namjoon senses the younger one is done, and he clears his throat. “I really really don’t understand what she sees in you.” 

“I don’t understand either,” Jungkook agrees easily, his finger tracing your handwriting. He muses that you were always out to get him, even if you didn’t know it. 

Namjoon masks his surprise by clearing his throat. “But I’d rather seek to understand than live the rest of my life having my sister resent me. I don’t really know what you two are going through, but if she trusts you with her life, I’ll try. Emphasis on try.” 

“I don’t deserve your trust.” 

“You damn right you don’t,” succumbing to his impulses Namjoon makes a sharp turn, and Jungkook holds his stomach together before it flies out the window.  

You come home to find your room cold and barren. All of Jungkook’s things are gone, except your Christmas mug. 

You at least thought Jungkook would spare you a goodbye before he ditched you. You hoped you’d at least consider each other friends who provide explanations after all of this. 

Lifting the mug off the desk, you hear a little clink in the glass, the chime unfamiliar. Hurriedly, you pour out its contents. A heavy, tungsten black ring lands in your palm. You clench the metal between your fingers, hugging it to your chest. 

Mind made up, you dash out to the hallway, nearly bumping into your cousin. At the same time you and Jimin blurt, “We need to go to the airport.” 

Apparently Namjoon warned Jimin that something fishy’s going on. Namjoon didn’t know what, but he had the inkling that Jungkook was hiding something. Once Jimin received the text to meet them at the airport, he flung you in his sedan and floored it. Flushed with adrenaline, Jimin is speeding with a fervor you’ve never experienced. 

“Can you please, take the edge off and tell me what the hell is going on?” 

Just like how Jungkook didn’t want Big Hit to go down the drain, you didn’t want this week to be in vain. You can’t wait a year for Jungkook to come back, and you didn’t want to publish your first novel without him by your side. 

“Long version or short version?” 

“The in-the-middle version. I don’t think I have the brain capacity to absorb all your drama right now but I really need some answers.” 

“O-kay. Basically, Jungkook isn’t a Literary Agent. He’s my god-awful boss. Or was awful, I don’t know. Jungkook left the country before his work visa was fully processed. That’s a breach, so he needs to live in Korea for a year to come back. But he can’t run Big Hit remotely, so he proposed to marry me to attain citizenship.”

Your head whips to the dashboard and you cry out, barely stopping the impact with your hands.  

“Sorry, sorry!” Jimin’s eyes are focused on the red light, absolutely terrified. “Bitch, you’re committing fraud with your boss! You could go to jail, that’s like, the hottest love story ever!” 

“But he’s going back to Korea because now he suddenly realized he can forge basic human connection.” you mutter, “so no, we’re not going to jail because he’s decided to do the right thing.” 

“So what you’re saying is, Jungkook has achieved self-actualization and decided to peacefully move to Korea and sacrifice the company for you.” Jimin is carving his free hand in the air, gesturing wildly. “Don’t you see! He really likes you.”

“Yeah, so now we need to go to the airport and tell his dumbass this isn’t the time to be selfless.” 

Once you find a spot you’re rushing out of the car, weaving between carts and people to find the correct terminal. This airport is much smaller than JFK, so it’s easy for you to navigate and get past the TSA. It also helps that Jin’s wife is an attendant. 

“He chose the 1:45 flight in Terminal 31A,” Mijoo chirps from her tablet, leading you in the right direction. She’s dressed impeccably, the odds and ends of this airport glued together by her impeccable organization. She points to the clock, which glares a digital 1:18AM. “You have time.” 

“Thank you Mijoo,” you exhale gratefully, “and I’m so so sorry I skipped your wedding!” 

“This is the 300th time you’ve said it,” Mijoo rolls her eyes, pushing you and Jimin forward, “But I’ll make sure not to miss your wedding.” 

You’re sweating from your down jacket, and you can’t believe it’s really all come down to this. The one person you’ve spent the last two years of your life doting on, and you didn’t want to stop. You wanted him not just for the publication of your novel, but because you needed him. 

Jungkook’s sitting in the waiting area of Terminal 31A, looking wholly inconspicuous as he reads a book and has his hood propped up. 

Fists balled, you stride forward only to have Jimin tug you back. “What?” 

Jimin pulls off your thick coat, making haste to wipe the sweat off your brow with his sleeves and flatten your messy hair. “What?” he tilts his head to the side, “you need to look good before the big confrontation. I’m recording this for archival purposes. Do you have any lip balm by any chance? You look chapped.” 

You slap his hands away, but those grubby fingers just come back with a vengeance. “My life is just a big show to you, isn’t it?”

“Living vicariously all day, every day.” 

While Jimin parts your bangs, the intercom cuts through the air. 

“The 1:45 flight to John F. Kennedy International airport will now commence boarding. Please line up according to the ticket class.” 

Jimin smiles at you, squeezing your shoulders and gestures for you to go. To your horror, Jungkook is first in line. Panic bubbles to your throat.

“Jeon Jungkook!” you cry, voice echoing throughout the terminal. “If you so much breathe in the direction of that plane I will call Mark Lee right this second and tell him the book series is off!” 

Like a deer in the headlights, Jungkook heeds to your voice immediately. In his stupor you jog forward to snatch his wrist and pull him out of line. You don’t let go until you’re away from the long line, and Jungkook tugs his wrist away. 

“Don’t you dare call him,” Jungkook looks serious, as if you didn’t drive all the way to stop him from making the biggest mistake of his life. “I will never forgive you if you terminate Mark Lee’s contract.” 

“And I won’t forgive you if you get on that plane.” 

Pain flashes in his eyes, and he shakes his head. “I need to. I can’t let us—let you go through with this. You and your family deserve better.” 

“What? Jungkook, I agreed to this just as much as you did.” 

“No, you didn’t.” he’s adamant, and steps back with every step you take forward. “As your boss I threatened you, held it over your head like an ultimatum. I’ve hurt you,” his voice cracks, looking at you desperately, “why would you want to be stuck with me when I’ve made your life miserable?” 

“If I really wanted to leave, I would’ve done it a long time ago.” You reason, “Do you really want to leave the company behind? To fucking Karen?” 

“Of course I don’t!” Jungkook exclaims, “but it isn’t worth hurting you, hurting your family and everyone that loves you.” 

“And what about you? You’ll be hurt when you leave,” and you step forward, so close that your chests are touching. You take hold of his hands, clutching them between your small ones. “Don’t go, stay with me in New York. We’ll both work hard and try to not run each other to the ground. Let’s be better together.” 

You’re practically begging, biting your lip raw and hoping Jungkook understands how good this change is for the both of you. 

Jungkook is conflicted, looking back and forth between the airline boarding for JFK and your watery eyes. He hates seeing you like this. He can’t imagine you, the strongest woman he’s ever met, crying because of him. Namjoon’s voice echoes in his mind and he tries to smash it to the edge of his memory. But as always, you’re right. 

He replaces your grip with his own, and gets down on one knee. 

Jungkook says your name like it's the sweetest of songs. You’ve never seen him so terrified. “y/n, I didn’t do it right the first time, so let me try again. Please, marry me. Marry me because I want to date you. I want to take you out and give you what you deserve, what we deserve. I want to do better for myself, do better for you. I’ve realized you’re the only person that makes me feel like I’m simultaneously on fire and on thin ice,” he pulls out a velvet box from his pocket, revealing a thin band with interlocking black and clear diamond studs. It’s a pretty little thing, with a groove in the center so it stacks perfectly with your engagement ring. “This was supposed to be your Christmas present, but I chickened out at the last second,” he says sheepishly, tucking his head in. “But if you let me put this ring on your finger, I promise to be your home away from home.”  

With a sob you fall to your knees, throwing yourself onto Jungkook. A small “oof” escapes his lips, and he struggles to hold your waist so you both don’t topple over. “Yes, yes, yes!” you cry, pulling away to cup his face with both hands, pulling him into a sweet kiss. 

Jungkook’s smile takes up his entire face, and he eagerly pecks your lips one more time before ripping the ring from its holder and stacking it on top of your engagement ring. The teardrop diamond is nestled perfectly between the thinner band’s V. “Pretty,” he says, pressing his forehead to yours. 

“Wait,” you pull out the black ring that you found in your room, holding it to his face. “I’m assuming this is yours?” 

“Yeah,” he replies, “your mother said it was your great grandfather’s. It’s not an engagement ring, but it’s the thought that counts.” 

“It matches,” you hum, placing his simpler band in his ring finger. Once it’s on, you take a deep breath. “Shit, we’re really doing this?” 

Jungkook pulls you to stand, wiping the happy tears from your cheek. “We are, we’re a team, remember? We’ve crossed the line and we gotta finish it.” 

And he picks you up, the workouts definitely paying off as he spins you around like you’re the leads in La-La Land, drunk off the happy chemicals firing in your brain. Jimin whoops and hollers, along with all the other patrons in the vicinity of the airport terminal. 

Your real-fiancé puts you down, the both of you now hyperconscious of the stares people give you. Other people have filmed the proposal as well, completely smitten by your confessions. 

“Jungkook,” you giggle into his shoulder, “you were right. Our story is straight out of a Wattpad entry.” 

“Down to the super cheesy in-public airport proposal?” he chimes, pressing his forehead to yours. “Couldn’t have asked for a better love story.” 

“I can’t wait to fall in love with you,” you whisper, quiet enough for his ears only, “for real, this time.” 

“Not that it’s a challenge,” he teases softly, “but I’m already halfway there.” 

some months later.

“Like the new office, boss lady?” your new assistant (yes, you have an assistant!) asks kindly, his bubbly presence uplifting you immediately. He leads you to the window box, filled with tiny plants. “I figured you like succulents, because you have no time to water them and they’re prickly like you.” 

“Very funny, Seungkwan.” you chide good-naturedly, picking up a succulent with a yellow flower in the middle. “But thank you, your interior design skills are outmatched. I can’t wait to work with you.” 

“Me too, your social commentary you published on the literary industry? And you managed to lace it all up in an inconspicuous fantasy novel?” Seungkwan boasts, “I applied for this position right then and there.” 

“Thanks Seungkwan, why don’t you take your lunch and we’ll meet back at one to discuss our plans for next week.” 

“Sounds good, do you want me to pick you up something?” 

“I’m good, I’m meeting with the bossman.” 

Seungkwan gives you that look, his lips jutting out in a suggestive manner that almost makes you burst into giggles. Your assistant decides not to bother you until after you’ve eaten, and bids you goodbye. 

Just when you get a moment of peace, a handsome face pokes his way inside. “Hello editor,” Jungkook knocks on your door for the sake of attention, but you’re already dragging him into the office and shutting the door tight. “Like your new office?” 

“Love it,” you moan, gesturing to Seungkwan’s light filtering curtains. They’re not dark, rather a tasteful sea green, but they’re opaque enough to stop wandering eyes from peeking into your space. Your personal space was a qualm that immediately needed to be mended after your experience in Jungkook’s office. “A lot more private than your office.” 

“A little part of me hates how much you deserve this promotion,” he sits on your desk, and doesn’t hesitate to pull you between his legs, letting you lean into his chest, “but I do love the added privacy.” 

You fiddle with the buttons of his navy collar, his strong thighs trap you between him, “Why, miss me already?” 

He shrugs, “Taehyung doesn’t look as good as you do in a pencil skirt.” 

You laugh, brushing the strands of hair that fall from his coiff. “No one looks as good as I do in a pencil skirt.” A firm grip confirms that, two strong hands cupping your backside. “Mr. Jeon!” you gasp playfully, pushing him away slightly to pinch his cheeky grin. “Can we save this for later? I’m hungry, but we can always continue this for dessert.” 

He groans in your neck, “Love the sound of that, Mrs. Jeon.” 

bonus.

“FUUUCCCKKKKKK YEEAAHHHHH!” Park Jimin’s voice bounces off the walls of Taeyeon’s office, his face taking up the entire screen of his desktop as the camera shifts harshly between him and you and Jungkook at the airport. “My cousin’s not going to jail! WOO!” 

Taeyeon pauses the YouTube video at a particularly unflattering screencap: Jimin’s nostrils are flaring wildly and he looks fairly high mid-scream. 

A low whistle escapes Jungkook’s lips, “Wow. That video’s viral,” he looks to you appreciatively, “if Jimin kicks off his YouTube career, you think we can milk a memoir outta him?” 

“Potentially,” you reply nonchalantly, playing with your rings. 

“So,” Taeyeon’s voice is icy, slashing between your casual conversation, “you’re getting married, for real this time?” 

“Yep,” Jungkook pops. 

“Alright,” and from her desk she pulls out an ungodly stack of documents, one that mirrors your own back at the office. “Jungkook, you’ll stay with me. y/n, you’ll go to Vernon’s office and he’ll give you the same spiel. We’ll interview you privately with the same questions. A hair out of place and you’re in trouble. You sure you want to go through with this?” 

You and Jungkook exchange looks, betting your own company that you got this in the bag. 

“Hit us with your best shot.” 

#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

[herenortherenearnorfar]

This Tornado Tolerates And Respects You

A little story about Gothmog and orcs that I’ll probably put on other sites later. But for now, a tumblr exclusive! CW for the terrible reproductive politics of evil (implied reproductive coercion, forced childbearing, light eugenics), orc awfulness, disdain for incarnates, radiation poisoning, chemical weapons, Fingon’s fate, mentions of cannibalism, malnourishment, ear cropping, and all of the above with the implied harm to children.

Orcs, Lord Melkor’s special pet project, a blasphemy first and a strategic asset second, didn’t make the best troops. They could swarm over a target in a useful mass of bodies but they lacked skill and drive. For the Captain of Angband’s own force of fire and shadow, spirits sprung free from the tyranny of the Valar, orcs were a sea of troublesome bodies, cluttering up the field of battle. More flesh to whip through, barbed wire quick, more lungs to choke with lime gas. An annoyance, not an ally.

He didn’t have very high expectations of them as a source of soldiers and there were very few individual orcs who he respected. Gorfaunt was one of those rare exceptions.

They’d fought on the same battlefield under the taunting stars, in those blissful days before the heavens changed, and he’d been impressed by the orc commanders ability to marshal troops. Very few in that division ended up trampled beneath Balrog feet. Even the retreat was prompt, almost orderly, without sacrificing that wild spirit which was one of the orcs’ few redeeming qualities.

When it came time to capture the stripling-king of the elves he’d requested Gorfaunt’s orcs in particular. Once again they’d proven their mettle and the commander had become of of the Captain’s favorites. If orcs had to be stationed next to their betters it was preferable that it be Gorfaunt’s orcs, who knew how to comport themselves and could fight near Balrogs without dying in droves.

Now with the latest glorious battle (and another successful collaboration, the Captain still glowed at the memory of the Noldor’s latest king cracking open to spill his red insides over his silver banner) behind them and Lord Melkor demanding Nargothrond and Gondolin, they met once a month to strategize, share intelligence, and complain about everyone else. To an outsider they might have passed as friends. There was less formality between the two of them than another high general of the iron fortress might have demanded, they sat at the same table and spoke freely.

(The Lieutenant still asked commanders to bow before him; that was why even his own troops called him Sauron behind his back. Gothmog was a superior appellation, less insulting, more fearful, but he still didn’t hasten to encourage its use.)

Despite their surface level amicability and the handful of tried-and-true inside jokes—mostly having to do with how enemies had died— they could bat at each other, they knew very little about each other’s lives. Meat and smoke only mixed when making a brisket, trying to relate two such different ways of being seemed impossible.

But when he saw Gorfaunt waddling into their monthly kvetch with a belly round and swollen like a tick’s, the Captain felt driven to say something. He was the marshal of Angband, he couldn’t let his king’s forces go to seed.

“Are you ill? Cursed?”

Gorfaunt managed to pull out a chair, made for a Balrog three times the size of an orc, and hoist themselves into it with rangy arms. “No? Just five months with a baby kicking around in my insides. The little bugger’s finally starting to show itself.”

That took a second to decipher. “You’re having a baby?”

Of course the Captain knew the basics of how incarnates made more of themselves. It was a topic of great fascination in the old days, when Yavanna was first figuring the system out, and of course the Lieutenant would prattle on about warg breeding to anyone who’d listen. They had sex— another thing that did not come naturally to beings of spirits, though some Maiar had made astounding progress in the field, for pleasure was pleasure and even Nienna’s acolytes sought catharsis and comfort—then there was lots of squishy biology on a level invisible to the incarnates themselves, then a little parasite was somehow blessed with Erú’s fire, to be nurtured until it could nurture itself.

He also knew that orcs, like elves and dwarves, had little distinction between men and womenfolk. Useful when it meant you could channel your entire adult population to battle. Startling when you realized that a key ally had been quietly pregnant for months without you, a greater being able to perceive stalactites growing and the scales on insect wings, noticing.

In truth he’d been doing a lot less noticing of late. His senses were dulling. Perhaps it was the light of the cursed gems, which painted everything in blinding, indistinguishable holiness. Or he was just losing his touch.

If he focused now he could see it. It was easiest to sense on the plane of wraiths. There was Gorfaunt, a guttering candle; wheezing, weak. All orcs had that fire, however dim. No one had managed to fully extinguish it though it had been much suppressed. Tucked against her, nearly imperceptible, was a little spark. Not much yet but given tinder and carefully fanned it could grow. “You’re having a baby,” he marveled.

Gorfaunt’s face was… orcs were hard to read at the best of times, bubbling over with noisy pain and anger that obscured their true emotions, prone to skin diseases and horrendous eye infections that muddled their expressions. She didn’t wear her gas mask around him anymore, though most were quick to cover up around any Maia of Morgoth. It helped little, her face was still opaque as the mountain itself. “Yep, Captain.”

“Good?” You congratulated an ally on a new weapon, a new bond, a promotion. Which one was an infant classified as? What was the correct form?

“Hopefully it’ll be over and the little goblin will be in the caves with the old’uns by the time we find either of the cities.” Gorfaunt provided, only barely contextualizing his felicitations. She was chewing on the inside on her cheek; sometimes she would gnaw until she spat black blood. “Terrible time for it. Terrible time. But the high ups are worried about reinforcements down the line, I suppose.”

Orcs came from orcs. It was a fact so simple it barely bore considering. Another department handled it. The new ones just showed up, springy and long limbed, faces still soft and unmarred. “Goblins” he’d heard older orcs call those fresh pale creatures. Barely even monsters, more like stunted, crepuscular versions of the elves and dwarves they fought.

“How much longer?” They had a few good leads on Nargothrond, a promising word about Túrin Turambar. The Captain could not sack that city himself, the honor had already been promised to the sulfurous worm. Apparently they wanted to test the mettle of these dragons. But Gothmog could assign a few good orc commanders to supervise, make sure the worm was not overstepping his bounds.

Dark blood trickled out of the corner of Gorfaunt’s mouth. “Five months, I’m told. Could be more, could be less. Then I have to wait until the thing is independent enough to leave alone, that’s another few months.” She was probably counting months as the orcs had started to, by the moon. Wretched traitor, Tilion, who’d laughed with them at the idea of running away then turned his face when the time came to flee for freedom. They hated it as much as everyone else but in their hatred they were aware of its cycles. They rejoiced when it went dark.

“You’ll still be able to manage your underlings?” Orcs, and freed Maiar, were fractious. They did not respect a leader who lacked the strength to force them to obey. It could be exhausting. And Gorfaunt was already so round. The Captain did not wish to lose her support over one orcling.

“I think so. So far… in old days you’d den up somewhere for a year, avoid everyone prowling for blood, but I don’t want to fight my way up the ranks again. I’ve got an ax and I’m using it.” Despite that she sounded tired.

Long heartbeats stretched between them, that exquisite embarrassment of two coworkers suddenly forced to talk about private affairs.

“This is your first,” the Captain didn’t reach the tone of a question with that one.

“Yes. The recruiters were getting growly so I grabbed a fellow. I’ve been avoiding it for too long.”

“You don’t want a child.” Again, not quite a question. He was feeling it out as he goes along. This is the longest conversation about orc reproduction he’s ever paid attention to, for the Lieutenants diatribes we’re always dull.

It was no matter to him, except that this was the only orc commander he could tolerate working with and she was chewing through her own cheek in discomfort.

“They take something from you,” Gorfaunt admitted. “Dame and sire both, but worse for the dame since she has to carry the clot. You go… stretchy. Bleached like old bone. I’ve seen soldiers and after twenty children they’re not good for anything but shoving onto a line of pikes. Raw meat for the wargs.”

That didn’t make sense to him, but he was never a scholar of flesh or spirit. He knew how a skull split and how a soul fled, how this matter-sprung life withered, how it died. That was all that counted. He also knew how to value a resource.

“There won’t be any after this,” he said firmly. “Not if you don’t want them.” If need be he’d escalate to Lord Melkor, frame it as sapping strength from their command structure and propose making officers off limits from breeding programmes.

“As you command, Captain,” she said with a bowed head, but she looked gratifyingly relieved, and their conversation could finally move on to the latest stories of occupied territories and the search for the hidden cities.

The next few months Gorfaunt somehow managed to get bigger and bigger, until she was no longer able to swing herself into a chair and had to take their meeting standing. Her leather armor no longer fit and with just a thin layer of rags over her distended stomach it was easy to see the squirming creature inside.

Ferocious little animal. It would go so still and then kick out again, as if it could burst free of its creator by force of will alone. The kernel of its mind was forming too, a hazy bubble of sensation and half formed emotion. He could see what had the Lieutenant fascinated. It wasn’t his field but it was morbidly interesting, seeing the shape of something new and moldable come together right in front of you.

But he had not been made a sculptor or a craftsman. He’d been born a wild thing, a tornado, a volcano, every disaster meant to fell cities, and though he had not known the words yet he’d sensed in his core, seen in glimpses in the song, that he was a creature of war. Like many other wild things—Ossë, the simpering coward tied up in Uinen’s tresses, excluded— he’d found his way to Melkor in the end. Oh, he’d idled for a time with Vána, heard Námo’s dolorous call, but it was Melkor who he came back to and Melkor who he picked in the end.

Melkor taught him so many more ways to be. The smoke, the blood, the screaming not in sorrow but in anger. He taught the others who came to him as well. In the Captain’s little squad alone there was one who learned the slaver’s whip and the threat of fire, one who learned the ooze of pus and malodorous air, one who came to appreciate the ravenings of rabid beasts. From the dragons in the treasure-caves to the cat in the kitchen to the vampires in the highest towers, they were all Melkor’s creations.

Gorfaunt, born and raised here in the shadow of his ancient power, was even more Melkor’s than most. This was how the Captain rationalized his continuing fondness for her as she weakened, his interest in her spawn. Works of the same maker might gravitate together. They could see parts of themselves in each other, the way he could once see himself in other Ëalar born of the same bit of song.

When Gorfaunt came in four months after their revelatory meeting with a sagging belly and a bundle nestled against her chest he was excited to finally see what had been made.

It took a bit of coaxing to get her to show him the baby but no orc would outright refuse an order from anyone stronger than them, they knew better than that. The newborn was dutifully unwrapped and presented, though Gorfaunt’s expression suggested that she considered this all a silly waste of time.

It was a rumpled wet creature; mostly skin and bones, with a cranium as big as its rounded torso. Small too, barely bigger than Gorfaunt’s hand, and Gorfaunt was smaller than all elves and many humans; based on overheard complaints failure to grow was an ongoing issue with their kind. When it was unswaddled sticklike limbs flailed out and began batting at the air ineffectually. Despite this wriggling its face remained in a sleepy scowl. It wasn’t until Gothmog moved one cherry-hot finger closer to it that it opened its hazy grey eyes and tried to focus on him. Even then the dismayed frown stayed put.

An unscarred orc was always an interesting sight; for it revealed the scale of their reworking. How much orcishness was self-replicating, as the Lieutenant liked to claim, and how much had to be beaten in? This one had a droopy brow bone and already peeling corpse-grey skin but it did not look much like an orc besides that. It even had hair, which most orcs lacked (aside from a few lank patches). The fine red down covered its whole body, thickest on the head and face and arms.

“It’s supposed to fall out,” Gorfaunt said, “Everyone says it’ll fall out soon. Even the prisoners lose their hair after a while, especially in the deep mines.”

That was probably because of the miasma of decay that emanated from the ores of Angband. Not macro-decay, of skin and bone (that came later) but the infitesimal decay. Every piece of metal— every piece of existence, when you got down to it— was made of little stars. There was a gaseous center of energy and little orbiting specks around that, spinning in probabilistic loops. Like stars some were bigger and some were smaller and some were ready to collapse. Ilmarë loved to speak of supernovas. The yellow and blue metals below the mountain were full of little stars collapsing, reforming, giving off energy in great sums as they did so.

The Captain had noted the negative effects of this energetic output on incarnates some time ago. Elves sickened and humans just died— Lord Melkor had moved the man he hoped would give him the location of Gondolin far from those mines for a reason. A few of the spirits with natures inclined towards metal, salt, and industry had already incorporated the burning energy into their signatures. The Lieutenant doubtless had some wicked little experiment running with it. It was a part of life here, that background hum of a trillion crumbling particles, and the Captain never thought of the effect on orcs, though they were exposed from birth.

Now that he focused he could see the little crumbs of decay glancing off the baby.

Hmm.

It would probably be fine.

It was already rubbing its eyes and going back to sleep, one hand curled next to a crumpled, not-yet-cropped ear.

“Are you recovered?” he asked Gorfaunt.

“I’m fit enough to fight,” she said shortly, defensively, as if afraid he’d snatch her command from her. “I’ll be better soon when this thing is gone.”

The Captain’s huge palm hovered over her infant. He knew better than to touch; his ability to change forms was not what it once was, he could not stop being a bipedal avalanche, to strong, too close, too dangerous. Even just containing the noxious gases— the pustulent yellow and choking green— simmering inside this war shaped body was difficult. If he kept a few feet distance the chaotic heat of his skin faded into the air and the baby wriggled contentedly in the ambient glow, like a little lizard.

“And how long will that be?”

Gorfaunt’s hand twitched. Another few months, till it can manage worm meal and listen to the grands.”

It seemed impossible that anything could be big enough to leave alone in such a short time; but incarnation was not the Captain’s specialty. “And that’s the accepted practice?”

“A little young, but safe now that the master put a stop to the baby eating problem.”

“I wouldn’t want it to be a concern,” the Captain said very seriously, even though his fingers curled slightly around the baby’s limp body. “We can make modifications if the child must stay longer.”

Gorfaunt glanced down at her sprawled offspring. “I don’t— I don’t want this to last any longer. I’d rather have my life go back to normal.”

That, at least, he could understand. It has been a rather troubling experience overall. Revelations are not always useful and though he’s gained some knowledge it’s not very practical stuff.

“One more question, commander, then I’ll drop the matter. What is it named??”

That nascent mind bubble had sharpened with time and experience but was still comprised mostly of sensation. He could not even grasp at a basic sense of self. The child’s mother should know what if calls itself, if anyone did.

(He wanted to remember the name, for forty years from now, when he needed more good orcs. All those rants about the fundamentals of inheritance left him with some ideas about how incarnates develop traits. Another Gorfaunt would be a helpful tool to have on hand.)

The question left Gorfaunt unimpressed. “It doesn’t name itself anything yet, it hasn’t got the common sense. And no one’s given it a name because it hasn’t done anything interesting.”

“It has an interesting look” the Captain pointed out, “Tell them to call it Red Cap,” he slipped into the elf tongue, which had better color words than the one the Lieutenant devised, and in the process accidentally named the child after a former king of the Noldor. “Or something like that.”

Gorfaunt apparently had a better memory for politics than he gave her credit for, or perhaps just a distaste for the elf cant, because she quickly translated it back into Angband’s crackly tongue . “Rotbint.”

“Yes.” A Balrog, even the chief of Balrogs, could not give much to something so soft and incarnadine. A name, incorporeal, existing in the plane the Captain knew best, was the only thing he could offer. “Now, to business?”

Gorfaunt wrapped the little creature away— it woke halfway through the rolling to stare at them once more— then tucked it against her chest.

The Captain was sad to see it go, though he couldn’t say why.

He remembered that he had come to this physical world for a reason once. He had wanted to see all there was to see, to feel and taste everything, chew chunks of Arda up and spit it out new. Disasters hungered as much as anyone. Yet all he’d had lately was war fare; blood-soaked mud and rage-tinged fear.

Deprived of fresh experiences, he clung to the potential, the novelty, of new life.

Perhaps Gondolin would see him out of his funk, he thought. It couldn’t hide forever.

“We’ll find it, Captain,” Gorfaunt assured him stubbornly. “And we’ll tear it down brick by brick, raze their gardens, fill their streets with blood.”

Even with a baby trying to gum her collarbone her firm tone allowed no questions.

Orcs were, as a rule, bothersome, unruly, walking corpses. Fractious, ugly, difficult, bothersome, recklessly stupid. The Maiar serving under the Captain were sometimes stereotyped as simpleminded brutes but at least they were able to perceive the world around them, even if few bothered to use that perception. In comparison orcs were stumbling around in the dark. They were inefficient as well, you needed three of them to take down any decent enemy. But when they were well made they were well made. Those were the ones that made it all worth it.

It had to be worth it. This was freedom, after all.

#the silmarillion #gothmog #orcs #silmarillion fanfiction #angband #fanfic #Sauron gets some mentions

[imagine-loki]

Hiding In Plain Sight

TITLE: Hiding in Plain Sight CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 9

AUTHOR: wolfpawn ORIGINAL IMAGINE:Imagine coming from a line of nobility or royalty and being in an arranged marriage with Loki in an attempt to strengthen your kingdom / alliance with Asgard. You’re not entirely on board with the idea but figured that the best you could do was to get to know your fiancé. You form an agreement with Frigga for you to pose as Loki’s personal servant for a few months so you can get to know who Loki really is – beyond the veil of his responsibility to the Asgardian throne, behind all the masks he wears when facing the public, to really know who Loki is behind closed doors as you slowly fall for each other.How long will you keep up the ruse with the God of Lies? RATING: General Audience

NOTE - I finally got my ass in gear and finished something, thank Loki.

Raven paced worriedly. Her family were to arrive today, meaning she would be required to reveal herself to Loki, and all that entailed. She prepared herself for whatever was to come. Her most likely scenarios, she surmised, was being ignored and given the silent treatment or being met with anger and confrontation until he said his piece, then being given the silent treatment. Neither were something she was looking forward to but she fully expected one of those to occur.

She prepared her belongings again so to stop herself from fidgeting too much in stress. Sadly, it did nothing to assist her but she needed to do something as she felt she would go insane waiting otherwise. She toyed with her fingers a lot, pinching the skin in her hands, something she was prone to doing when stressed.

When she heard a loud roaring noise, she jumped, having gotten herself so highly strung that she had not expected the loud noise and had caused a dramatic reaction as a result. She rushed to her window to see what had occurred and gulped when she saw the banner of the Light Elf royal family making their way from the Bifrost site across the bridge and towards Asgard. With a deep breath, she readied for what was to come.

*

Loki ignored the pageantry he knew was heading to the city. He heard the Bifrost and, like Raven, went to his window to see who was coming, unlike her, his room had a balcony but he did not use it, especially when he did not want anyone to see him. He knew his mother and father would call for him soon so he made his room impervious to their seidr and locked himself in while they met the Ljósáfar royals. It was petulant and juvenile but he simply was not in the mood. He would need to build up the effort to deal with the whole situation.

He felt when his parents attempted to make their way through his defences, their momentary pushes on his seidr but over eleven hundred years of knowing their son, they knew that he was not going to be reached through such means. They did not even bother to try and open his doors physically, he had learnt to lock them manually by the time he was three hundred and not in the mood for others, so instead, Frigga placed a note under the door simply telling her son that he was to be to the main hall in half an hour in some capacity or another before he embarrassed himself and Asgard.

Scowling, he tossed the note aside. He knew this would not be when it mattered but the dinner declaring their imminent marriage. He wanted to conjure a clone to do it but he would have to kiss Raven’s hand at the very least and they would not be able to do such. Gritting his teeth, he prepared for what was to come.

* Raven tidied her clothes and looked over herself in the mirror. She looked as well as she could, considering she was inwardly panicking more than she thought was healthy. She had not slept properly for some time thinking of how Loki would react and the guilt that she felt as a result of deceiving him which conflicted terribly with the feelings of anger and resentment she had for him saying the things he had said about her, unknowingly to her face. She felt terrible for being deceitful, she genuinely did but it conflicted so greatly with her own feelings from how he spoke of her. She didn’t know how to deal with it, but when the knock came on her door to inform her that her family had arrived, she was forced to no longer fret about what was going to happen and instead, have to live through it. Inhaling deeply, she straightened her dress and began her way to the main hallway to meet them.

Seeing her family speaking with the Aesir royals, Raven smiled slightly as she walked forward. Her brothers noted her and nodded politely as they were always trained to do. It was not commonplace for Light Elf royals to openly show affection so she was not upset with a lack of reaction to her. When Frigga noticed her, she smiled encouragingly at her, though there was clearly a slight worry in her face too. It was only when Raven stood beside them did her parents notice her. She waited patiently until they finished speaking to the Aesir royals with a polite smile she had been trained to do since before she could even remember.

Thor, who had been speaking with her brothers, watched diligently, noting how the male offspring of the Light Elves spoke freely whilst Raven remained silent. He had known that she had been very vocal and strong-minded when she chastised Loki for his wrongdoings, so he wondered how she was both so timid and meek in appearance with her family, yet so able for his Silvertongued and formidable brother simultaneously.

“Raven.” Her mother acknowledged her first. “I hope you have settled alright.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Thor could only frown. With no others bar the two families there, he could not fathom why she spoke so formally with her own parents but he could say nothing as it was not his place to do so.

“And your betrothed is currently under the weather, we hear?”

Raven had not been told of any such excuses and she had actually seen Loki the day before from her window, pacing on a lower floor clearly discussing something with his brother and he had not seemed unwell. “I am afraid so. But he will undoubtedly be joining us all soon again.” She looked to Thor who shrugged ever so slightly, telling her that he too had not been aware of such excuses.

“It was my doing,” He confessed. “I may have been less than careful with our sparring yesterday and struck him to the side of the head too hard, he is feeling dizzy and such as a result.”

“Good Heavens.” Raven’s father shuddered. “I could only imagine the damage such a strike would inflict from a lad such as yourself.”

With nods of agreement, a motion to one of the smaller rooms was made so that everyone could converse more intimately.

*

For three hours, Raven eyed the door carefully whenever the opportunity arose, wondering when Loki would finally join them and in turn, cause issues but there was no sign of him. Her parents and brothers seemed to not take any notice and spoke at length with the Aesir royals, all while Raven merely nodded politely and smiled, only injecting herself into the conversation when forced to by Thor or Frigga. Odin, she had come to notice from her time in Asgard, was a lot like her own father, more focused on his more direct heir than his other child/children. In many respects, it taught her a little more about Loki. He referenced his son but not as he did Thor and by Norns, did it show. She felt that was ironic. They had more in common that Loki could know about since he had not bothered to even attempt to find out.

All through the time they spoke, she wondered why Loki had not turned up. Part of her suspected that he had realised who she really was and wanted nothing to do with the whole charade, which she would not be able to argue in many ways, but then again, she did not know that he had, he also struck her as the type to very much make it clear he did not like being tricked in any manner. Over and over, she played out different reasons for him not being there in her head, but all that she was able to conclude was that he was nothing more than a petulant child, having a tantrum in his room rather than actually facing the situation. He was not the only one forced into the situation yet he had not the manner nor the courage to actually face it.

When her parents and brothers went to settle into their rooms and prepare for the feast that would come that evening, she walked with them to their rooms quietly. Her focus was entirely on finding Loki and having the argument that she knew needed to come. She hated conflict but there was no manner in which she could avoid this one and it needed to happen soon. All she could conclude is that Loki, a smart and naturally mischievous being himself had arrived at the correct conclusion as to who she really was and was not happy with being tricked. Saying nothing and bowing as her parents and brothers entered their rooms, she walked back to the royal wing with Thor by her side.

“So, what is the truth?” She asked him.

“I have to say, I do not know. I have not seen my idiot brother since yesterday. He was ranting that I am not yet betrothed and he has to be and how unjust such is. Of course, if he got his head out of his rear end for a few moments, he would see what is happening around him, but that would mean he had taken more than a moment to focus on something that is not him and that will not be occurring.” Thor sighed. “He usually has the sense to not embarrass himself in front of foreign dignitaries in such a manner, I have no idea why he decided to start today.” “I guess I better find out,” Raven stated, looking forward, readying herself for what was to come.

“Do you require assistance?” Thor offered. “No, thank you. You are at risk of a blade.”

Thor nodded slightly. Loki was prone to attempting to stab him when he got angry with him.

“He is no risk to me. His words cannot hurt me. After all, I have heard everything he had to say and at worst, he will spit similar again and then go silent.” “Most likely. I am close by if you want my assistance,” He offered.

“Thank you but I will be fine.”

Thor walked on to his own rooms when she confirmed that she felt she would be fine. Though he was slightly concerned, he knew behind the peculiarly quiet manner in which she interacted with her family, Raven had the ability to take care of herself verbally.

* Raven readied herself to confront Loki. She changed out of the clothes she had met her parents in to something more comfortable but even more beautiful. She took a moment to look over the dress. She had taught herself how to make it while she waited for her parents’ arrival and for the wedding in her days of boredom. Bored and wanting to learn new skills, she had a maid get her some material and she sewed. Some of the seams were not entirely perfect but she thought it was beautiful and making it herself made her feel all the more proud of it. With a ribbon in her hair that matched it perfectly, she twirled once more and walked out of the room, inhaling deeply as she readied for what was to come.

She walked to Loki’s door with purpose, looking at it apprehensively for a moment before inhaling deeply again and knocked, making a mental note to herself to not keep inhaling so deeply, as she would make herself light-headed if she continued to do so. When Loki’s maid that she temporarily replaced opened the door, she cocked her head slightly, not recognising the elf on the other side. “Hello, can I assist you?” “I must speak with His Highness.” Raven smiled kindly.

“Regarding?” “His betrothed.”

The maid’s eyes widened. “Of course.” She seemed to be readying to open the door for a moment before she paused. “I am not sure if Prince Loki will accept such a request. He…”

“Is scowling in his room, refusing to open the door and growling incoherently on occasion?” Raven wagered.

“I...How could you…?” The maid was bewildered at how she could ever know that. “Know that? I just do.” Raven remembered when of the days that Loki arrived back to his rooms when she was disguised as his maid and did such after Thor and his friends had caused him to be dragged into a situation he had not been involved in and for some reason, he seemed to have been forced to have to shoulder more of the blame than they had when they had been the ones that did the deed and he had not. He stormed into his rooms and would not come out for a few days. “I still must speak with him. I know he is in no want of company but I still must speak with him urgently.” The maid moved to the side and opened the door fully with a facial expression that read as ‘good luck’.

“Thank you.” Raven walked over to the bedroom door and prepared herself for what was to come before knocking on the door the same way she had when she had been pretending to be his maid.

She had not known if Loki would actually acknowledge her knocking. She half expected that he would ignore her.

“I do not think…” His maid began.

Her words silenced when the door glowed green before opening. “Tatianna, be so kind as to retrieve my books from the library master, please.” Loki requested politely.

“Of course, Your Highness.” She curtseyed slightly with a large smile and rushed out of the room.

Raven’s brow rose at the kind manner in which Loki spoke to Tatianna and her relaxed demeanour in return.

With the door closed, there was a moment of silence between the pair. Loki looked over Raven’s dress and being in an analytical manner while Raven looked at Loki waiting for him to begin his tirade at her fooling him.

“I always suspected there was something off with you.” Loki declared.

“You are a warrior, you would be terrible or dead if you did not have a sense of when something is off.” “I hate liars.” “And I hate those that are two-faced.”

“Same difference in this case,” Loki growled eyeing her suspiciously. “I think it farcical for a maid to call me two-faced when I am sure you broke multiple records with the speed you rushed to your mistress with my words.”

Raven paused for a moment replaying his words in her head, realising after a moment that he had not actually realised what was happening. “I actually never ran to anyone at all or even said anything to anyone about your words outside of Prince Thor.”

Loki froze to the spot. “Thor?” “Your brother, future King of Asgard, Thor.”

“Why Thor?” He demanded.

“What concern is it of yours?”

Loki walked over, towering over her. “Did she honestly decide to speak to my brother about me? Have her little spy go to him with all the dirty details?” Raven was used to Loki’s moods so he did not concern her too greatly, but had she not been so used to him, she could easily have been intimidated. “It’s Raven, not ‘she’.”

“I’m sure she cares so greatly about that.” “I do, that is why I am correcting you, yet again. I have told you time and again to use my name and stop calling me ‘she’ or ‘her’, yet you still insist on not saying it.”

Loki’s brow furrowed at her words before the realisation came to him. His mother’s insistence in speaking with her when she saw her looking upset in the garden, Thor’s peculiar reaction on seeing her. “You’re not her maid.”

“I told you I was not.”

His eyes widened at the confirmation. “You’re actually her.”

#Loki #others #submission #submitted fic #wolfpawn #Hiding in Plain Sight #Chapter 9

[redboarambo]

Joy.

Elation.

Regis had surprised Aulea with a trip to Altissia, one of their favorite spots to get away. They would camp on the way, their tent several paces away from the guard, just to give themselves some more privacy. It was the time when they could mostly be themselves. In the castle, there were so many people that would interrupt and bring them back to their lives as rulers. People that wanted to vie for her husband's attention, even if they were both busy. But here?

Here Aulea could be who she wanted, and they could enjoy their time as they so wished. Especially when they weren't traveling for some royal matter, but for their own enjoyment. It was t he time that the Queen loved the most. Perhaps that's why she was humming that morning as she walked down to the stream - another reason they had stopped where they had, there was a close enough location for herking to go fishing. The though alone had her rolling her eyes, a small chuckle leaving her lips as she leaned down, gathering enough of the stream water in a bottle, and cleaning her hands, before she straightened back up.

Straightening up, she looked out towards the horizon, her lips pulling up into a smile. This was everything she had been needing. It was-

The feeling of something - someone- kicking at her ribs had the queen's hand falling down to rest on her stomach.

"I know, my darling. I'm telling him when I get back to camp. He'll be so excited to meet you."

The words were quiet, murmured to the air more than anything since the baby in her stomach wouldn't be able to hear her. She had just gotten past the first trimester and was finally at a point where she felt comfortable enough to tell Regis. It was something she had learned the hard way, waiting until she was far enough along, so she wouldn't get his hopes up. They had been trying to give Noctis, their sweet little prince, a sibling for a few years now. Finally? Finally it was happening.

All she had to do now was to tell the father.

With a soft breath, and the thumb on her finger swiping along her clothed stomach, Aulea turned and started back towards the camp.

Fear.

Anxiousness.

She only got about halfway back to the camp site when she noticed something was wrong. There was far more noise than there should have been for this early in the morning, too much yelling and a noise she couldn't register. It made her hesitate, just for a moment, before speeding up, a furrow between her brow.

When Aulea was just a turn away from being able to see their tents, through the bushes came Clarius. Normally the sight of the man would make her smile, usually she'd hold her hand out towards him for him to take. While most only knew the solider as Regis' personal guard, he was so much more to the queen than that. He was a friend. A confidant. A lover. She needed him almost as much as she needed her king.

Normally, when Clarius reached out to grab onto her shoulder, she'd lean into the touch with a chuckle. The look on his face, though, froze her to the spot. "Clarius, what's wrong? You don't look-"

"You have to go hide. We don't know if there's anymore that might show up."

"What are you talking about?" His words confused the queen, her head tilting to the side to try and see through to the camp. To where the sounds that she now registered as swords clashing had faded, replaced only by silence. "What happened?"

"Soliders from Niflheim. They came out of nowhere. We were able to finish them off, but there could be more. You have to g- Aulea!"

The queen had already took off, running down the path the rest of the way. The tents came into view and her blood ran cold when she saw the bodies on the ground. Most of them were those of the foreign tech, but she could see several of their guards as well. Her eyes ran across every face, but none of them were Regis.

Silence.

Empty.

Aulea could hear Clarius calling to her, but she ignored him as she made a straight line for her tent, throwing open the canvas flaps. The moment she saw him on the ground, she crumbled to the floor. Her king. Her husband. Father to her babies, best friend and the man that meant more to her than any title or any kingdom ever could. The blood pooling from his chest was dark against the white of his skin, eyes thankfully closed.

Pulling herself along the ground, she lost track of everything. She couldn't hear herself sobbing, couldn't hear the footsteps coming up behind her into the tent. There was no noise, nor could she feel the rocks under her palms as she reached him.

"Aulea...."

There was pain in the way the man said her name, but she didn't let it stop her from reaching out to pull Regis' head into her lap, her own moving to rest their foreheads together. "Come back. You have to come back." Aulea's voice was already hoarse from sobbing, her entire body shaking as she rocked with his body back and forth. "I'm pregnant, Regis. T-the baby needs you, Noct needs you. I...."

She broke down to the point of not being able to speak, his blood starting to seep into her clothes, staining them crimson. She was oblivious to the arms wrapping around her from behind, to the voice telling her she needed to let go.

Aulea wasn't sure how long she sat there before everything went black.

Anger.

Grief.

The next thing that she actually remembered was opening her eyes in their room. She had passed out from stress and exhaustion, sobbing and shaking on the ground of that tent. Clarius had carried her back himself, Regis being taken care of by several of the guards. There were no words spoken in the car on the way back, only the man's hand running along her back and through her hair to try and soothe her.

As if anything would make this better.

As if anything would make this go away.

Aulea shuddered as she looked a round, her cold body reminding her of the fact that everything had happened was real. Her husband was gone, the kingdom had lost their king, and Noct... the baby...

Her hand fell to her stomach, wanting to hold the little one close as she she pushed out of the room. She couldn't be in the room she shared with Regis. It was too much being able to smell him, see things everywhere that reminded her of him. Without thinking, her legs carried her through the halls to the main throne room, pausing in the middle of the room.

She didn't notice the guards hesitating by the door, obviously wanting to give her her space, but refusing to let her be alone given the current situation. Clarius was farther in the room, but even he knew not to touch the queen at the moment.

Aulea's eyes took in the banners, proudly showing off their family crest, and the flowers that were on stands through out the room. She had picked them all out herself, instructed the attendants to get them prepared while they were gone to surprise Regis when they got back. She had thought they'd have something to celebrate.

For a long moment, all she did was stare at them, feeling everything building inside of her chest. He was gone. The kingdom was going to be in chaos, and all she could feel was anger. Anger at the MT's for taking her husband and her kids father, anger that he had surprised her with this trip in the first place, anger that she had left him that morning instead of asking him to come with her.

Screaming, from as deep in her chest as she could muster, she reached for the banners and started to tear them down, knocking over the pillars of flowers to the ground. She kept screaming as she went up to the throne and hit the seat with her hands, falling down to her knees.

Aulea didn't think she stopped screaming for hours, before her voice was all but gone.

Everything was leaving. Gone. Vanishing from in front of her eyes.

And it all started with Regis.

#Mine #Ffxv rp #Aulea

[chancelloramidala]

Across The Stars In A Galaxy Far Far Away ★ Star Wars & Marvel Crossover AU

TWO.

Despite her Jedi training, Ahsoka couldn’t help but be have a child-like excitement of their surroundings. She sat in the window seat beside Anakin and pressed her face against the glass, staring at the big flashy lights and people they passed. From what she saw, Manhattan looked like a smaller version of Coruscant, and lacked the many, MANY, skyscrapers, flying speeders in the air, and alien species walking around. In fact, Ahsoka could only see the human species on the streets and in the cars they passed. Were there no other alien species on Earth? Was she the only alien species here?

Padmé, who was on the other side of Anakin, grinned at Ahsoka’s visible enthusiasm and constant pointing at something new she didn’t recognize but thought it resembled something back home. She nodded along to the teenage Torguta’s animated hand movements and tried to answer as many questions as she could. But the Senator, once Queen, was equally as curious about this planet they were on as Padawan, but dimmed down a couple of notches.

Anakin on the other hand, didn’t like any of this. He was one to throw original plans out the window and improvise, but this was a completely different territory for the Jedi Knight. Hell, this was a completely different part of the galaxy that didn’t know anything about the Jedi or the Force.

Obi-Wan, who was sitting in the front seat with the chair slightly reclined backwards (not that Ahsoka was complaining), could sense his former student’s anxiety about their new environment. Their bond never diminished as time passed, but fortified and became a constant in their lives. He turned his head to look at Anakin and gave him a small smile, sending him soothing waves of warmth through their bond and then closed his eyes for a moment.

Rex was stuck in the back with Artoo, and even if the SUV was roomy, he did not like the tight space. It was different, nothing like a speeder or ship he’s been in. Even Artoo was quietly grumbling about how much he hated this stupid speeder because with each turn and stop, Rex had to outstretch his arm(s) to make sure the astromech droid didn’t topple over and hit Anakin in the back of his head.

Their driver, Clint, stared at the strange bunch. Now when he was expecting a couple of aliens that had kidnapped Peter, he was expecting something along the lines of the Chitauri that he faced all those years ago. But these aliens, weren’t anything like them. Most of them were human, the teenage girl though, she was definitely an alien, for she had orange skin, white face markings and something that resembled horns? She also didn’t have any hair, which wasn’t an issue for the man, but it was different than what he was used to seeing.

But then again, after joining S.H.I.E.L.D. and becoming an Avenger, normal wasn’t in Clint’s vocabulary anymore.

After they finally reached the garage of the Tower, Clint parked the SUV and lead everyone to the elevator, including the beeping robot, which somewhat resembled a rolling trash can, that he forgot they had.

“They have turbolifts here, Master,” the orange skinned humanoid female commented as the elevator started to move. “Fascinating,” she mumbled under her breath.

“It’s slower,” the shaggy-haired human male said with a small smirk.

Clint chuckled softly, “Don’t let Stark hear you say that, he’s already an insufferable bastard as is.”

“I take it this Stark person made this turbolift?” Padmé inquired.

“Yup,” Clint popped the ‘p’, “and the entire building along with a lot of other technological gizmos. He’s the one in the metal suit from earlier that wanted to blast your asses on the spot,”

“Comforting,” Anakin said dryly.

Then, the doors to the turbolift or also known as elevators, opened revealing a red and gold skinned being. Vision smiled amicably at the newest arrivals and stepped aside to let them through. “Welcome, my name is The Vision or just Vision. I’m a synthetic android made from vibranium that was once an A.I for Mr, Stark. He also told me to lead you to the medical labs to be checked up on and to provide you with clothes to change into.”

“Thank you, Vision.” Padmé smiled back at the man and decided to walk beside him, introducing herself and the rest of her group to him.

Anakin then took Obi-Wan off of Rex’s hands, allowing his former teacher lean against him as they followed after Vision and Padmé down the long corridor. When they finally arrived at the doors to the lab, Vision input something into the panel before the doors slide open. There was a man in a purple shirt with his back to the rest of them, staring at a holographic screen and rubbing his chin anxiously.

“Dr. Banner, may I introduce our guests?” Vision told the man, causing him to turn around with blatant surprise.

“Vision, hey,” the Doctor nodded his head and curiously glanced at the group behind him.

“This is Padmé Amidala, Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Captain Rex, Ahsoka Tano, and their astromech droid, R2-D2,” Vision carefully gestured to each and every being clearly making sure that each brief description Padmé gave him correlated correctly.

“Nice to meet all of you, my name is Bruce Banner,” he raised his hand slightly to wave. “I’ll be doing some basic scans and check-ups on all of you, Tony guessed all of your sizes and has some clothes stacked on the bench over there,” he pointed to said bench, “that you can change into. There’s an bathroom connected through that door,” again, pointing to where said door was.

“I’ll go first,” Ahsoka stepped forward with a bright and eager smile.

Bruce eyed the young Torguta with a great amount of curiosity before nodding firmly and gesturing to the table he’d be examining her on. “Thank you, and you’re... Ahsoka, correct?”

“You’re right, doc!”

━━━━━━━━━━━━

An hour or so later, everyone had changed out of their clothes and into Earthly outfits. Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Rex were given gray, black, and blue sweatpants along with white, green, and gray t-shirts. Ahsoka and Padmé wore black leggings paired with red and blue tees. They’d also been given black sneakers and socks which were surprisingly comfortable.

Obi-Wan, despite his initial injuries, was given a thorough check up by Dr. Banner. His chest was wrapped and he was given some pills for the pain. Everyone else had a clean bill of health, and vaccinations just in case.their space bodies couldn’t handle whatever illnesses Earth had to offer.

Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Padmé were then tasked with trying to explain their situation to the Avengers (which Anakin was absolutely floored to learn that was their actual team name.) Ahsoka and Rex lingered in the background, keeping to themselves and talking to each other about how weird this all was.

An eccentric billionaire who used all of his high-technology to make the world a better place. A super soldier that was frozen alive for 70 years with a heart of gold. Two assassins with a deep history with one another. Super-powered twins, one was weird, the other was fast. A Doctor that turned into an alternate person which was green and severely muscular when angered. A former assassin that was brainwashed to be a human weapon... and many other team members that they haven’t met because they weren’t on site according to Vision.

“Sorry if I find it hard to believe... any of that.” Tony blinked after Obi-Wan and Padmé spoke about the Clone Wars that had recently ended in their galaxy. “And sorry, that you two and the kid are... um... space wizards?”

“Some find that the Jedi are sorcerers with our magic-like abilities through the Force,” Obi-Wan nodded patiently.

“What about this War you had? You said it was caused by the secession of star systems from your government, the Republic to the Confederacy and for the War, the Clone Troopers were created for the Republic to be used for battle... but there was another alternative plot beneath it all?” Steve asked, particularly eager about the war they had fought.

“Yes, the Chancellor of the Galactic Republic, Sheev Palaptine, was actually a Sith Lord who orchestrated the entire War. He wanted the Republic to crumble along with the Jedi Order so he could restore the Sith Empire... and...” Padmé carefully glanced over at Anakin who was now staring at his hands, gripping them tightly.

Padmé frowned softly and then reached forward and put her hand over his, giving it a small, reassuring squeeze.

“Palpatine... Darth Sideous was grooming me for years and nearly seduced me into the dark side of the Force to become his new apprentice...” Anakin announced in a soft voice as he tried to steady himself from lashing out or leaving the room.

“He had chips put in Rex and all of the clones that when activated, would massacre any and all the Jedi they served.” Obi-Wan added, quick to take attention away from Anakin, knowing all-to-well that the revelations of Palpatine’s true nature was a hard pill for his former student to swallow.

The room went silent for a moment, allowing the information they were receiving to float in the air. It was clear that this group had been through hell and back again for the three years that the Clone Wars raged on.

Steve looked at each and every person, taking note of what kind of role they played. Padmé was a senator, the former Queen of her planet Naboo, who didn’t agree with the War from the start. Obi-Wan and Anakin were generals who watched hundreds of soldiers die under their command for a worthless war. Rex was one of those soldiers who didn’t know where his place was without the War and had survived it but not without a few battle scars. And Ahsoka, she was only a child when the War started, now a growing young woman who not only shouldn’t have never stepped foot on a battlefield, but never had a real childhood.

"I still don’t understand how you got here though. I know space is huge, but out of all the planets to land on, you really chose Earth, huh? And New York nontheless!” Tony chuckled lightly, doing his best to make light of the situation.

“It’s possible that during our escape, we got sucked into a wormhole.” Obi-Wan suggested. “There’s been no records of anyone travelling through one before.”

“Yup, now you’ve lost me,” Clint blinked blankly before getting up to walk into the kitchen. “Anyone want some beers? Don’t answer that, because everyone is getting one. We’ve deserved it.”

“Like I said before, there are Separatist sympathizers that want us dead. They hit our hyperspace drive right when Ani put in the coordinates while we were escaping the skirmish and... here we are.”

Clint then returned from the kitchen, handing out beer bottles to everyone before stopping in front of Ahsoka and eyeing her warily. “How old are you anyway?”

“Galactic Standard would have me at 17,” Ahsoka replied as she eyed the beer bottle in his arms. “It’s the legal age to drink in most of the galaxy,”

“Ah, sorry little lady, but the legal drinking age here is 21,” Clint patted the space between her montrals ever-so carefully in a playful manner before continuing to pass out drinks.

Ahsoka scrunched her face together in annoyance and turned her head in the direction of Anakin. “What a bunch of bantha-poodoo! Master, you’ve seen me drink before! Tell the sleemo,”

“Sorry Snips, but if their legal age is different here then...” Anakin shrugged his shoulders to indicate that the situation was simply out of his hands before popping open the top of the beer bottle and taking a sip.

Rex laughed loudly and slapped his hand over his mouth to stifle it. He’s seen his fair share of the Torguta drinking, many times he had to drag her back to base over his shoulder because she was a bit of a lightweight. And if he was going to be honest, this was the peek of entertainment.

The teen crossed her arms over her chest and huffed as she watched him drink. “This sucks, Skyguy.”

“Ah, I’ll have to decline from drinking.” Obi-Wan gestured to his chest. “I’m on medication and I don’t know how well that would mix with alcohol.”

“I can make some tea instead, I don’t drink anyway,” Wanda waved her hand as strings of red floated from her fingertips and towards the kitchen, where the stove turned on and a tea kettle started to bottle.

“Splendid,” Obi-Wan nodded his head in her direction, thankful that they at least had tea here. “Might want to make some for Ahsoka here, she looks like she needs a calming tea.”

Ahsoka stuck her tongue out at the older man in a childish manner. “Oh you think you’re so funny, Master.”

Whilst everyone was busy conversing and sharing stories, Padmé would discreetly pass her beer to Ahsoka, knowing that a few sips couldn’t hurt. The teenage girl was more than happy that the Senator was giving into her whims. Plus, the two have had their fair share of nights spent sharing a bottle of Alderaanian wine towards the end of the War.

Though, this act didn’t go unnoticed by everyone. Tony thought it was funny when he first noticed the exchange, recalling how his first few drinks were at home with Jarvis. He didn’t say anything, just smirked behind his bottle and went on with their night.

#tony stark #natasha romanoff #steve rogers #anakin skywalker #obi-wan kenobi #padme amidala #ahsoka tano #captain rex #wanda maximoff #vision #wandavision #pietro maximoff #buckybarnes #bruce banner #artoo #r2-d2 #star wars #marvel #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #star wars x marvel crossover #the clone wars #tcw #sw #iron man #black widow #captain america #scarlet witch #hulk #winter soldier

[blushing-starker]

For my Gracie dear. What would I do without you in my life? Merry Christmas darling. @vaguekiwi

"Well, you wouldn't really be in this position if you had accepted my proposal, baby cheeks. In fact, I'm practically drooling over the thought of you saying fuck it and coming to visit with a few surprises beneath that second skin you're rocking." Two sentences, two very different tones of voice, both trying to coax him in. Reprimand and flirt, the only possible courses of action for Wade when it came to them.

"So I guess it's true what they say; chivalry died when you were born, Wade. Every single conversation between us is proof and the world knows it." He grinned as soon as he heard the exaggerated gasps over the landline, always loved these tennis matches with his partner in crime.

Sure, the 'red devil' of Cliffwood often threaded barely subtle, often outlandish innuendos into their interactions and never denied the neighborhood a chance of seeing him draped over Peter, but it was, God forgive him, fun. Exciting and a little thrilling.

And also past their bedtime. So to speak. "I gotta go and I know Wanda likes to cook late. Go help her in the kitchen, Mr Gifted Hands. Vision might give me an A in the next exam if I told him I encouraged you to make his favorite lasagna." It won't happen, obviously. The Maximoffs, because Vision had adopted the name on his second date with Wanda long before their wedding, were usually chaotic neutrals that tried sticking to the right side of the law. Hopefully, Mr Maximoffs' morality would at least allow the man to add a five point bonus on Peter's next physics test.

"Oh, you finally admit my hands are gifted, Mr Parker? How forward of you." If there was one thing that he loved about being friends with the incorrigible Wade Wilson, it was how the man oozed sex like it was nothing. His surety in it, in flirting, in courting and joking made Peter feel at ease. Most people, even those like Mr Rogers with his slightly conservative views, enjoyed Wade's antics because they were harmless.

Most of the time. The guy had slept with two thirds of the town, after all.

"I'm not sleeping with you, Wade. What would Vanessa say of-"

"Please, the woman basically throws me at people in the hopes of watching me sleep with them."

"you being with me before her?"

"..."

Peter squinted at a shiny red nail, worried he'd somehow messed up Morgan's job of decorating him in the Christmas spirit. The lamp next to the couch is a tad dimmer than usual, right, he has to swap the bulbs. He'd completely forgotten in the midst of playing with Morgan and Rocky, baking them brownies, battling the upstairs shower mold, decluttering the toy boxes and throwing something semi appealing for dinner. There was a spare light in the, was it the garage? No, his memory had been reduced to physics laws and the kids' allergies, but Peter's sure he would have noticed. Maybe Morgan had hidden them in the office, Rocky liked chewing on light bulbs so it's not too unlikely

"Shit, Parker, now I'm thinking about that, Jesus. Christ on a bicycle! Hmm? It's nothing, Wanda, just Peter being a brat and a tease."

"Hey, I'm not a brat!"

"Says you. I bet a certain member of the awesome facial hair club could evidence the opposite. Actually, I'll go right over and ask, hey!" The sound of Wade distinctly face planting onto the Maximoffs couch sent Peter into enough hysterics he could barely make out what Wanda was saying.

"I sincerely apologize for the little devil-"

"I'm almost two heads taller than you!"

"that can't seem to mind his manners no matter how many times we try to teach him how to be human."

"It's," God, he's wheezing like a freshman first day of gym with Coulson, "perfectly alright, Miss. I'm the one that should say sorry for keeping him up so late, I know he has chores to do around the house. Lovely Christmas lights, by the way. I think you guys might win the competition again this year."

There's a tiny worm of guilt crawling up his throat; how could he distract Wade when Wanda had her hands full with an energetic baby ready to sprint out of the house at any moment?

"Oh sweet Peter," she drawls out the vowels, like they're honey and she's trying her best to stretch them out, savour them, "you really think so? I thought the yard looked perfect, but Vision insisted on decorating the roof to 'ensure our win against my dear brother in law'. And please, a happy Wade that's finished his teasing for the day is wonderful for us. He cleans faster and doesn't kiss my cheeks as much."

"Wait, you did the roof?" He knew the Maximoff siblings were intense, had witnessed Pietro stabbing flamingos into Clint's lawn just to add some color to his already bright remodeling a weeks ago.

"You haven't seen it? Tell Morguna's father to take you outside to see it while the kids are watching television. That way you can go back with an excuse if you get too nervous with him."

Peter spluttered, ignored the fact his cheeks were flaming, pretended he couldn't hear Wade's howling through the phone. "I don't, I wouldn't, it's not like, I mean. The, the kids will probably sleep early tonight."

"Perfect, you won't have an excuse and he'll finally kiss you. Oh, Vision. Hello, dear, I'm saying goodbye to Peter. That idiot might kiss him tonight."

"Hello? Hello, Peter. I'm very happy for you both; but may I request you kiss after midnight? I'm afraid I made a substantial bet regarding that kiss and was hoping to get Clint back over Banner and Natasha."

Great, he'd died and entered a hell where the only thing he could do was stutter and flush crimson. Typical Parker luck, really.

"SurebyeMrandMrsMaximofflaterWade."

He slammed the phone back on its pedestal, dove into the leather couch and screamed until his throat ached.

--------

"Daddy? Peter, daddy's here! Don't let him go to our room until we're done with the Christmas card, please!" He yanked his head from under the cushions, scrambled to the door, tripped over Morgan's race car, narrowly avoided the destruction of Rocky's Lego chop shop, hastily stashed a pink apron in the drawers by the door, failed to straighten his sweater (a gift from the kids' grandmother) and took all of ten seconds to fix his hair before opening the door. In the exact moment the owner of the house leaned against it to enter.

There's a second where realization kicked in, worry is splashed over both their faces, he darted forward to help so the man's heart didn't shut down on them right then, said man wanted to preserve such a young, healthy body; they tried to control the damage.

They failed. Spectacularly. Crashed into each other, somehow elbows and knees sunk into bad spots, bone snapped, ligaments wept in pain, a chest became winded, one of them got a black eye and the other a constricted throat. This was, of course, before it started raining and two idiots got drenched while piled up on the front door.

Peter gasped, wasn't sure whether it was better to lie under his dream, his wet fantasy, his goal in life or allow his brain some oxygen.

To be fair, this would only happen the once. He could breathe for the rest of his lonely life.

"Uh, welcome home, Mr Stark. How was work to, today, sir, that's not my thigh." Wade would know. Jesus, Wade would find out Mr Stark touched his dick for the first time and it wasn't even on purpose.

"Kid, I'm so sorry. Here I was wondering if I could give you your Christmas gift without ruining the box and now look at me. Peter, you don't have to come back to work if you don't want to-"

"Wait, you got me a gift, Mr Stark?"

"I will pay you for this whole month, obviously." The man shuffled back, attempted to shakily stand up like a foal and immediately slid down onto the sleek young man.

"Not come back to? Mr, ow, Tony, I'm not going anywhere. Not on Christmas, not ever. Look at me." Don't look at what's between my legs, Peter prayed, don't look at how you are between my legs, don't look.

Tony Stark glanced down, inhaled sharply and snapped his gaze to the au pair's. He may have leaned against what he hoped was his Christmas gift. Maybe.

"I'm not leaving, Mr Stark." The rain kept drizzling into the house, his throat continued to ache, the distance between their two bodies remained the same. But there was something in Mr Stark's eyes now, yes indeed, something Peter had resolutely ignored for the past six months while working with the sweetest family he'd ever known. It was the same something Wade yelled about when talking about his best friend's employer's face as it regarded the au pair.

"I think Wade might kill me if -"

"Rhode's is gonna choke me out if-"

"Are you two gonna kiss or not?"

They risked whiplash to peer right at, or, in Peter's position, upside down at Morgan and Rocky who unflinchingly stared at the ridiculous site their fathers made. Rocky even shook his head the way Tony did when he was disappointed. Little Morgan criss crossed her arms and Peter thought he'd sob because that's just how he taught her.

"We were going to put mistletoe on the door when you came in; we finished the holiday card months ago so that was the one thing left on the to do list."

"Months ago? I helped you two make one last week!"

"Oh yeah, how were you going to hang up mistletoe, daughter mine? There's no nail." A soft thwump over the doorway. It seemed Clint had given Morgan her own bow. And she knew how to use it.

They collected their courage, scraps of reduced pride, some drool and a tiny drop of sweat before turning to the man they'd been waiting for for so long.

"Mr Parker, will you do me the honor of bestowing a kiss upon an old man with creaking bones and heating hair?"

Oh. Oh, this was happening.

"I love your hair and I'll get you a walker that has a cup holder for water and a few pain pills. Mr Stark, will you kiss a kid from Queens who's so into you the red devil of Cliffwood himself doesn't dare sleep with either of us and get in the way?"

"Well, first of all. A walker, really, am I that old. Second, nice call on the pain pills, very good save on the hair. And please. He'd never get in the way of us two-"

"Great, are you gonna kiss me?"

"Why, Mr Parker. Don't mind if I do." It was a soft statement he would otherwise confuse as a plea.

"Fucking finally." That was a bit more of a pained gasp instead of a sigh of relief, but Morgan and Rocky were doing enough sighing for the both of them afterwards.

Afterwards though, when the blood is finally distributed to the right places

"Yeah, I think I broke my wrist and you should get that throat checked. I'll get the car."

"Tony, it's the fifties. I can get the car while you call Bucky to look over the kids. Anyone talks to me and they'll think you had something to do with my throat."

"That is a fantastic idea, sweetheart. Save it for later, maybe raincheck?"

"Get the car, Tony."

"Yep. Come on, you rascals. Help an old man out."

----------

Wade can't look at Tony without howling, mutters something about a limp wrist while Vanessa sighs and apologizes, compliments Peter on surviving life with a ridiculous best friend by his side. He says it's ok. Wade's his go to guy for whenever Peter has to get his head in the game and his lips on Tony's.

#Merry christmas darling #gracie dear #👑 #starker #peter parker x tony stark #tony stark #peter x tony #ironspider #i am sleepy #soft!starker #idiots in love #theyre just #vaguely waves #theyre idiots in love ok #im so sorry its not the squirrel fic #ill get right kn that #my writing #*wandavision* #*background ship* #*wade wilson* #*side character*

[skyeland]

Competition

Lucky clover Candles:

Though they only deal with candle making, I still feel they are a strong competitor, with great reviews and ratings.

They are a family-owned business from the Thomasburg, Ontario region and have no outsourced facility, which will keep their costs down. Upon researching their website and socials (Facebook and Instagram), you can immediately tell their products are true, and low waste.  Their sites are well laid out and organized, and includes features such as; an about us page, chat box, mailing list, gift card options, ecommerce and what I thought was a great feature was an info page. This info page was for educational purposes on apiaries, beeswax, wicks and burning as well as showed the difference between their 100% Canadian Golden Beeswax and original beeswax. They have a variety of scents and styles of candles ranging from tea lights, pillars and even hand dripped; all of which are non-toxic, clean burning and pet safe. Their shopping cart I found to be rather unique, as it calculated the taxes based on where you reside (province/country), and for Ontario, it gave me one option of Expedited which arrives within a week. If there are any items that are left in the cart, they send an email within 24 hours to remind you of your items. It’s no wonder this company is known World-wide!

Even though there are several strengths within this company, I feel one of their biggest weaknesses would be keeping up with production and time management. Because they are known world-wide and are busy, I feel larger orders in a smaller business may cause some delays. There is also a time period in the year where they take time off, and though I do not know the ins and outs, this could be a potential disadvantage for them.

Ojibway Natural:

This is an Indigenous woman run company located in Northern Ontario. Their business is based around low waste, natural products such as, soaps, laundry detergent, candles, bath bombs and shampoo bars. You can find them on Facebook, Instagram and they have their own website. The site is simple, clean, and professional looking and displays testimonials as well as reviews. It displays all their products, sizes, scents and cost as well as ship anywhere in the world. Upon receiving an order, the product was well packaged in recyclable materials and packed effectively, with no damaged. You can also sign up for their mailing list, which gives you a onetime coupon of 10% off. Their chats are answered in a timely manner and directly by the owner, who is informative and transparent. In their ‘about us’ section, they state that they want to provide affordable, natural products, which is a goal of mine as well.

The weakness I found within this company was the lack on information on products. Though they did highlight facts, such as, scents and base product, there were no actual ingredients. When I see someone state natural, I want to know how natural, and in this case, I saw no information on if they contained Lye, SLS, Parabens or even potential allergens. Even when I receive product from them, there was still a lack of information, as well as directional use on some product. Even, though they are responsive and professional, I feel this important to have on a site or at very least the labels.

 Marinna Naturals:

This is a women run business, from the U.S. She originally started out as a YouTube content creator, educating people on how to make their own natural products. She and/or her products then went on to be on a few T.V. shows, which would be a key component to getting your name out there, and being seen. This only gives her a strong advantage as clientele would have likely been built up before she opened her business. Her skin care and cosmetics products are hand made, natural and are listed as being free of : Gluten, parabens, sulfate and are cruelty free as well as Dermatologist tested. She is no stranger to social media either, as she is on the majority (if not all) socials out there and even has as scan code for a platform called ‘ Beauty Junkies’. Her catalogue is also available in both English and French. This company also had the feature of sending reminder emails for left items in the shopping cart.

The weaknesses for this company, are that even though she is in the U.S. and does ship to Canada, she only had one option for shipping. This option was the slowest option. I personally found her site to be busy, and I often was more focused on the banners and images, than the product. Lastly, her packaging was not eco-friendly, and I would question if it was recyclable, as it was all plastic.