#and im hesitant to start long projects now because i don’t want them to turn into 250k monsters like bt LMAO

[peachcitt]

13, 19, 20! (bc i need to kno im not the only one ignoring my emails skdjhdej)

13. favorite writing song/artist/album of this year

okay so i don’t have a definitive artist or album that ive been listening to specifically to write BUUUUT over this past year ive gotten really into making niche playlists,, the ones ive been listening to the most while writing lately have been: getting into a fistfight with my narrative foil and making out with my narrative foil after fist fighting them

19. any new fics to start next year

HM. HMMMMM. i want to finally start this one fic ive been meaning to since finishing bt but never had the time or motivation to. i think over the break i can finally get it going? i want it to be a surprise but basically it’s mlb, it’s probably gonna be angsty, it’s reverse-crush, and it’s gonna be a long fic.

oh also there’s the mlb radio rebel au that ive been meaning to finish

20. number of comments you haven’t read

OKAY SO. if you’d asked me this like 3 hours ago i would’ve been SO EMBARRASSED. but literally i just finished replying to A TON of comments so now there’s 103 in my inbox. and those are all from bt so my plan is look at those when i finally get the extra one shot posted

but yeah i love comments and i adore getting emails (FROM AO3) i just sometimes accidentally let them pile up and then im like. ah i have to reply to 10 pages of comments. oh dear

thank you so much for asking!! ily

[duuhrayliegh]

europe - request

pairing: sebastian stan x singer!reader (seb!pov)

summary: singer!reader writes another song, this one is about seb

warnings: suggestive content (*wink wonk*), language, the works ya know

a/n: this took so long bc im not lyrically inclined and there isn’t even that many lyrics in here. i can’t even guys this was a nice break though. i liked the concept, i hope i lived up to your dreams. :)

p.s.: my requests and tag lists are both open loves!

check out my other writing on my full m.list

Sebastian was doing a press interview for his new movie. It was his first on television interview. First time being back in the studio for The Late Late Show with James Corden. First time since you and him had gotten together. He was eager to see what James had in store for him.

He was wearing a bright yellow shirt paired with a red leather jacket. His legs were clad with a different pair that he wanted to wear originally because you couldn’t get quite enough of his thighs. Had he worn the other pair, there would’ve been a prominent wet spot on one leg where you rode him to your own satisfaction. The memory made him bite his lip and adjust his pants to try to quell his oncoming boner.

“Good luck out there tonight, lovey. You’re gonna crush it.” Your voicemail warmed Sebastian’s heart. He missed you a lot, but you were currently on your own press junket. Your new album finally came out and your manager had been running you ragged. Sebastian was so proud of everything you’ve accomplished, and he wasn’t afraid to show it.

“Hi, Mr. Stan. You’re needed on deck in five minutes.” He nodded at the assistant producer who stuck her head in his dressing room. Sebastian ran his hands through his hair one more time before deciding enough was enough.

“Well, this is as good as it's gonna get.” He murmured to himself as he walked out of the dressing room. He rolled his shoulders, snuggling into the leather jacket encasing his back. Sebastian took a swig of a water bottle from the table backstage. He still got nervous when doing interviews, always worried that he’s going to say the wrong thing.

“And now I would like to introduce our next guest. You’ve seen him as Bucky Barnes in the Marvel Cinematic Universe for the last ten years. He’s played the borderline psychotic Jeff Gillooly in I, Tonya, and the corrupt Sheriff Bodecker from The Devil All The Time. It is my pleasure to introduce the one, the only, Sebastian Stan!”

James stood, clapping as Sebastian made his way to the main set area. He raised his right hand, his left remaining on his stomach. As he approached James, Sebastian switched hands, his left coming up as an offer for James to shake. Afterwards, James held his hand out to the chair beside his desk, waiting for Sebastian to sit down.

“Hi, Sebastian! It’s so good to have you back.” James’ accent broke Sebastian’s name up into three distinct syllables, bringing a smile to Seb’s face.

“It’s good to be back, man.” He grinned big, waiting for James to ask the first question. Once they got into it, the interview went smoothly. Sebastian was able to avoid giving out spoilers for his new project, leaving just enough to the imagination. James was in a fit of laughter after Sebastian had told a crazy story from being on set. James wiped tears away from his lower lashline, calming down just enough to catch his breath.

“Okay, so I want to move onto something else.” Sebastian sobered up quickly, unsure of where James was taking the conversation. “We want all the juicy details about your relationship with Y/N.” Sebastian’s brow raised as he pulled a face at James’ question. He laughed to himself for a minute before answering.

“Ya know, we really have you to thank for that.” Sebastian pointed at James, before bringing that same finger to rub his eye.

“Really?” The man’s voice pitched up, brows hitting his hairline.

“Oh yeah. We were only introduced because of your show.” Sebastian leaned back in his chair, remembering that night with you. The two of you had gone out for drinks, talking for hours at the bar and then even longer in his hotel room. He remembered waking up with you wrapped up in his arms. You didn’t have sex that night, but you definitely did the second night.

And oh god, if  that second night wasn’t just as amazing as the first. The face you made whenever you climaxed danced it’s way to the forefront of Sebastian’s mind. Not good, definitely not good. He had to readjust himself in his pants again, crossing his legs to cover up his rather large problem.

“Yeah, we started dating that same week. Kept it quiet though.” Sebastian held his palm out in the air, bouncing it up and down.

“Right, right. And do you want to tell everyone how you did end up revealing that you and Y/N were an item?” Sebastian looked down at his lap, smirking to himself. “Or should we just play the clip?”

A clip played for the studio audience. It was Y/N doing her makeup for the Vogue Beauty Secrets Youtube video. Sebastian waltzed in the background of the shot. It then cuts to Sebastian kissing Y/N on the cheek, brandishing the hickey’s that she had sucked onto his cheek the night before. Mhm, I remember that night too.

Sebastian had surprised Y/N by coming to see her. He wasn’t doing anything and he missed you, so why waste a perfectly good opportunity. He spent the night there completely ravishing you until you begged him to stop. That night he proudly wore your thighs as earmuffs, burying his face in you. He really needed to stop reminiscing during an interview.

“How adorable. Was that planned at all? Or did you just do that because you could?” Sebastian shook his head, his right hand scratching at the stubble decorating his jaw.

“Oh, no. It definitely wasn’t planned. I honestly don’t remember if I knew Y/N was filming that morning, so I’m just glad I put on pants before I left the bedroom.” James laughed at Sebastian’s comment.

“Okay, so I’ve gotta ask your opinion on something though.” Sebastian made a hum of acknowledgement, signalling for James to continue. James leaned back, pulling out a cardstock of your new album. “So, this is Y/N’s new album, it just came out about three or four weeks ago?” The crowd clapped for you, and Sebastian cheered along with them.

“What do ya want my opinion on? If it’s the album, then I gotta tell ya, I loved it. Every single song on there is absolutely amazing.” James nodded, a smirk forming on his lips making Sebastian think he made a mistake.

“So you’re aware of the song Europe?” Sebastian smirked, nodding his head because he knew where this was going. “Would you like to tell us what that’s about?” James laughed as Sebastian stammered, looking for the right words. “I mean, let’s just read some of the lyrics.” James looked at the cards in his hands as Sebastian drifted into his thoughts again.

You had brought him into the studio before finalizing Europe. He remembers watching you twist your hands at your waist and continuously cracking your knuckles. Sebastian was curious because you hadn’t ever been like that when showing him a song before. Every question he had about your anxiety revolving around the song was thrown away when he heard it.

Europe was an ode to Sebastian, all of Sebastian. He couldn’t help pulling you down onto his lap by your waist as he listened. You were the only two in the studio, so the two of you were free to do whatever you wanted. The funny thing about that night was that there was a new track recording.

“Oh shit, Seb.” The dam broke afterwards, peels of laughter leaving your lips without explanation. Your right hand raised to your mouth, attempting (and failing) to quiet your giggles.

“Babe, why the ‘oh shit’?” You held up a finger to your lips, telling him to be quiet and listen. He strained his ears, waiting for his own ‘oh shit’ moment. Then, his own voice filtered into his ears, making him crease his brow in confusion. “What is that?”

“That’s the audio from when I first played you Europe.” Small giggles passed your lips again. “I was going to ask you if I could use, like, a sound byte from it for either the beginning or the end of the song.” Sebastian nodded, slightly amazed that you were so creative with your work. “But, I forgot to turn off the recording.” Sebastian’s eyes locked on your expression, waiting for him to connect the dots. He pulled a face and then,

“Oh shit.” His eyes widened, a huff of laughter escaping. “Wait, so it caught all of it?” Your lips rolled inwards, holding back laughs as you nodded your head. Sebastian raised a brow, his eyes flicking over your face. “Use it.” He had a few new hickeys after that night too, but not after decorating your body with a few of his own.

“Sebastian, I would like you to read a few lines from the song, please.” James handed Sebastian a card, a snort leaving Sebastian’s body involuntarily. He glanced at the cards, know the lyrics by heart already. He took a big breath, reading the lines that James chose. He threw him a look with his eyes, head tilting slightly toward the British man.

“Uh, okay, here we go.” Sebastian laughed to himself, blowing out a breath through clenched lips. He lifted the card again, “You know,” dropping his hand back to his lap while raising his other hand. “You know, she’s gonna make fun of me for this right?” James laughed, looking into the camera as if he was on The Office, then to the audience with a duh look on his face.

“Sebastian. We’re going to make fun of you.” The crowd didn’t hesitate to join in James’ amusement. Sebastian dropped his head into his hands, groaning loudly. “Do you need a little encouragement?” The audience began cheering and clapping for Sebastian.

“Fine, alright, alright.” He shook his head before starting. “Long nights with hickeys earned like a badge of honor. Teasing kisses, twisted sheets, all signs of true seduction.” Sebastian looked up from his hands, expecting James to say something. All James offered, though, was a wave of his hand for Sebastian to continue. “I never have to worry because all my sins are forgiven when I’m with you.” James held his hand up, stopping Sebastian from continuing.

“Okay, let’s dissect that, Mr. Stan.” James propped his elbow on his interview desk, placing his head at an angle in his palm. “What is this song about?” Sebastian’s lips curled inward, stopping himself from laughter.

“James,” Sebastian leaned forward against the arm of the couch. “I thought this was a family show.” The British man quirked a brow, sweeping both hands in front of his body gesturing to the studio.

“This is the Late Late Show, Sebastian.” He turned back to the audience, addressing them and the cameras. “And that is all the time we have tonight! Thank you to Sebastian for coming on the show with me tonight! And thank all of you for tuning in tonight. We’ll see you next time.” The producer beside the camera signaled that the show ended and Sebastian turned back to James.

“It’s a good song.” Sebastian smiled wide afterwards, saying his goodbyes to the crew. He was back in the safety of his dressing room when his phone started ringing.

“Hello?” He knew that it was you from the personally assigned ringtone you picked out when he wasn’t looking.

“The Internet is going to eat you alive.” Sebastian grinned as your peels of laughter trickled in through the speaker of his phone.

“Oh yeah, could you imagine if I told them that it wasn’t just random sounds at the end?” He could just imagine your smirk at his mention of your little addition to Europe.

“We’re gonna have to do that again.” Sebastian paused, waiting for you to explain. “Although I think next time we should do a visual along with the audio. You pickin’ up what I’m putting down Stan?” Sebastian smirked to himself, thinking about being able to watch himself bring you to the brink over and over again, even when you’re not together. His pants got tighter at the idea.

“I think we might have to look into that, Y/L/N.”

[bloomingjungwon]

please write a heeseung college!au !!!! ♡♡

college!au heeseung

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: thank you for requesting! sorry if this is so long, i kind of got carried away and i was kind of inspired by one of my favorite blogger's writing style

major: cinematography (don't ask why, i can just imagine him being so into making motion pictures)

he'd probably minor in like north american or woman studies tbh

i can see him as a really quiet, doesn't involve himself in too many things, kind of student

doesn't really speak up when it isn't needed

but if it's a topic he's really familiar with, you can't shut him up

definitley the type of student to sit in the very front even if the classroom has like a billion seats left open

i also see him as the type to never be in the library, he usually just studies out on the grass or in a very underrated cafe.

lives off of coffee to the point his roomate!jake tells him he smells like coffee 25/8

you know how gym freaks take a shot of like protein powder before their workout? yeah that's him but with ground up coffee beans if he is in a rush and doesn't want to wait for his coffee to brew.

it's kinda funny, you don't know heeseung, and he doesn't know you. but you pass each other almost everyday because you also go to the same cafe as him.

like youre always leaving as he enters and like????

hello how r u not noticing such an amazing human being

but dont worry, ya'll meet some day

you're walking across your campus and the bulletin board catches your attention

amongst all the papers screaming "tutor needed" or "join our club", theres a flier SMACK DAB in the middle

"class do20 presents mini films at flint theatre this friday!"

and like, that peaks your interests

because you've always appreciated people's works

but you're kinda just standing in the middle of the walkway and staring at it , you don't realize someone standing next to you

"are you going to go and watch?"

you nearly jumped out of your skin cause like, who tf just talks to someone without getting their attention first

heeseung does

and now he's just staring at you waiting for an answer

"uh,, yeah seems kind of interesting. why? are you?"

"i have no choice to. i'm a part of it, i just haven't started on my film yet."

.... homie, the show is on friday and it's currently tuesday

silence

no words or expressions are exchanged and you're just staring awkwardly at each other

but in reality, you two are just silently admiring each other's features

"do you want to be a part of my film?"

your blank expression turned into a "wtf" kind of expression

"you want me, a complete stranger, to be a part of your film?"

he proceeds to tell you that it'll be a lot easier for him to work with a stranger since he'd most likely not mess around

because this boy needs to get his assignment done asap

and you kind of hesitate but then you're like "well, fuck it. sure"

and then he smiles. and holy

this guy has one of the most captivating smiles ever and you literally feel your heart stop for a small second

"let's get started today, if that's okay with you?" he suggests

and you agree and tell him you have one more class, but he can meet you at a cafe you're usually at

and now it's his turn for his heart to skip a beat because he's talking to an attractive person who just willingly agreed to help him on his project AND goes to the same underrated cafe???

but before he can say anything.. you're already walking away

and now he's just standing there dumb and love struck

but yeah heeseung is already at the cafe thirty min early while he waits for you, camera out facing the door, waiting for you to enter

catches you on film as you walk inside and he kinda just watches you in awe as you're scanning the room to find where he is

you give him a small smile and wave and in that moment, heeseung knew what title he was giving his film

you take your seat and you're like "so, what would you like me to do?"

and heeseung just asks you to do whatever you would usually do at the cafe

and you're like oh sweet. that's easy.

so you ask him what kind of coffee he wants and when he tells you, you stand up to leave and order coffee

he films everything

from you standing in line awkwardly, you picking at your nails, scrolling through your phone, ordering... literally everything

you come back holding both cups (which of course he films too)

"i usually just do my homework while i'm here, but i don't have a lot today"

"that's fine. you can just do it, and if it's okay, i can ask you questions to get to know you better."

"yeah that's okay with me. i can multitask well. i think."

that earns you a chuckle from him

he angles the camera at the end of the end of the table, focusing on you

and ya'll just do homework together and learn new things about each other

like how you eat pizza with a fork and knife because you refuse to get your hands dirty

which heeseung reacts with "do you need professional help?"

but homie blurts out he lives and breathes off of ramen noodles and his roomate!jake has to restock for him every two days

and you're like.... "you're the one who needs professional help."

and for a couple hours

you guys are just goofing around and talking to each other as if you've known each other for years

homework done, three cups of coffee later, heeseung's camera runs out of battery so he calls it a day

chooses the next location to film

a dog park

so the next day, classes done, you meet him at the dog park, and even brought your dog

films you throwing tennis balls, petting dogs, and even you getting chased by a dog

laughs throughout the whole filming process but then internally regrets it because he notices it could probably be heard in the video

breaks it to you that he has enough content for his project

and lowkey youre kind of sad because you've had fun being around him the past two days but you keep it to yourself

"i'm glad i could help. i can't wait to see it heeseung."

loves the way you say his name and now he's sad too because he doesn't really have an excuse to hang out with you more

so ya'll part ways after saying bye

but it's not some dramatic "i'm never going to see them again"

cause ya'll run into each other again at the cafe the next day

and it's kind of unspoken but ya'll just silently agree to sit down with each other and work on homework

you, reading out of your textbook, and him working diligently on his laptop (shh he's editing his film)

and you kind of steal glances his way and he's just smiling to himself as he works

and that's because he loves the way his film is coming along, and he loves seeing you

because in that moment, you both realize you have feelings for each other

but once again it's unspoken cause you're both scaredy cats

you call it a day and say bye and him back

you guys don't see each other until the night of the film show

and you're like okay i'll tell him i have feelings for him after the show

little did you know, he was thinking the same thing about you

but he's up in the film booth sweating his ass off because he knows you're somewhere in the crowd

and all of a sudden he doesn't want to be there

"what if they don't like me in that way?" "what if they take my video the wrong way?"

internally and externally panics

but before he can grab his cd and break it, the lights turn off and oh shit the show is starting

tbh, the films from the other students were quite interesting and you were enjoying each one

but this uncomfortable feeling was forming in the pit of your stomach

were you anxious? nervous?

idk but you were anticipating heeseung's film

and finally on the screen appeared heeseung's picture and biography

you didn't even notice the smile growing on your face

you thought to yourself, what did he even name his film?

"love through my eyes"

....love??

does heeseung have feelings for me too? or did they switch up someone's film with his??

but nope, there was no switch up

you watched yourself on the screen, from you smiling at him at the first moments in the cafe, to you laughing at his eating habits, and to you being chased by the dog, audibly hearing heeseung's giggles

but you thought it was over until there were more clips of the both of you in the cafe

however, they weren't from the first meeting. the clothes you both were wearing were different

wait, isn't this from two days ago? he filmed us that day?

from a hidden angle, the camera caught you two stealing glances at each other when the other wasn't paying attention.

you looked at him with stars in your eyes, and when you went back to your textbook, he stole glances at you as if your were his entire universe

speechless, the film ended, and with his film being last, the show ended and the lights turned back on

you didn't even applaud, for you ran out of the building immediatley, looking for heeseung

and there he is at the entrance of the theatre just staring at his feet

looks up when you hear him running up to him

"so... the film" he starts

but you don't let him finish because you pull him by the shirt and kiss him

and he's shocked because what the fuck they're kising me?!?!

but relaxes and kisses you back

and yeah, that's how your relationship starts

and expect him to film you at random times

would probably treasure "love through my eyes" and play it as a surprise at your guys' wedding in the future

im crying

[sorryjustafangirl]

it’s a love story

a/n:  this is my submission for the @doubleminor​’s #hockeychallengemusic ! im so so super late but i finally had the time to write this. the toronto six of the nwhl have this as their winning song and i loved watching them celebrate this season. and apparently all i can write is matty tkachuk but i felt he really fit this idea

Pairing: Matthew Tkachuk x reader

Work count: 2.2k+

warnings: mentions of the pandemic and one swear but other than that just fluff :)

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction and real person fiction if you don’t like that, please don’t read! also the gif isn’t mine! all credit to the fantastic gif-maker!

prompt: choose an official team/player goal song and make something using that goal song // found here 

He had wanted the proposal to be perfect. The moment he knew you were the one he wanted to marry, he asked your best friend for everything you had ever mentioned about a proposal. You were only going to get proposed to once, and he wanted to make sure it was perfect. 

Secluded, yet meaningful, place? Check. 

Get it on camera? Check. 

Cute outfit with nails done? Check. 

But a global pandemic was not in his plan. Not even close. 

When the season had got put on pause, his parents suggested he come back to St. Louis to spend time with them, since Brady was coming back too. He was hesitant to go considering you were still going into the office for an essential project, but you assured him that he should go spend time with his family. He didn't get to see them a lot, and you knew he missed them. When he packed, he made sure to take the little velvet box and shove it between his socks. He didn't want to risk you finding it while he was away. 

A couple weeks later, after many FaceTimes and virtual date nights, you finished your project and work gave you the all clear to work from home. A two week quarantine and one plane ride later, you had joined him in St. Louis. You were still working, but working from the Tkachuk's home and with your boyfriend was much better than working alone in your shared apartment. 

Since you had joined the family, Taryn had noticed her oldest brother was a little jumpier than usual. Before, he was more carefree, aside from the occasional moping, and he definitely wasn't making sure his bedroom door was closed whenever he went in there alone. But now? It seemed odd. He wasn't moping, but he had those moments when he seemed too sad for it just to be about the season.  

So after Matthew's third sigh and retreat to his room while you were working, she decided it was time for an intervention. She quietly followed him to his room, where he methodically closed it and made sure it clicked. 

***

It was the second time today Matthew had looked at the box today. He knew he was torturing himself, opening the box to look at the ring he had picked out. It wasn't too flashy, something just your style. He remembered the way his heart jumped when he saw it in the store. It instantly reminded him of you and he just knew it was the one. It was like he couldn't help himself, looking at the box another time.

You could’ve already been engaged by now. The two of you could’ve been looking at venues and dates and even if he said he never really cared about that stuff… he couldn’t help but long for those things, because it would mean it was real. The two of you would be getting married, and he’d get to be your husband. 

But instead of being engaged, he’d just have to stare at the ring and wish he could make this all go away so he could give you the proposal you’ve always wanted. He relived the time he knew you were the one, anything to remind him that you wouldn’t mind waiting until this pandemic was over to get engaged. 

It was a home game against the Senators. Nothing speculator, just a regular game that they unfortunately lost in OT. Because it was against the Sens, and because he scored the only goal of the game, Matt knew he’d be chosen for press. He was tired, and there was nothing he wanted more than to see his family who had made the trek out to Calgary to see the boys play. He left the dressing room with his tie a little crumpled from the rush to meet them. 

He turned the corner to see Taryn sitting on a bench, with Brady standing with his parents, probably cracking a joke based on the way his mom was playfully glaring at Brady while his dad laughed loudly. His mood picked up a little after the interview and the loss.

As he got closer, he realized that Taryn wasn’t sitting alone. You were sitting there, your head resting against her shoulder, your eyes slightly closed. He stopped in his tracks when he saw your work bag sitting in your lap and your suitcase beside you. Your flight was supposed to get in around 8 and he had insisted that you just meet him at home after the game. This work trip had been horrible, your co-worker throwing you under the bus in a meeting with executives on a project he didn’t work on. You deserved to be relaxing with a glass of wine in the sanctity of your shared apartment. But you were here, at his game, straight from the airport, laughing with his family despite your drooping eyes. He had never felt more loved than he did right there. 

A knock startled him from his thoughts. 

“Uhh... just a second!” He snapped the ring box shut and quickly stood up from the bed to shove it in his drawer. Taryn popped her head in to see him very suspiciously standing in front of his dresser.

“It’s just me, dork. What are you doing?” She entered his room, making herself comfy on his bed. He scoffed, and closed the door behind his sister. 

“I’m not doing anything. What are you doing?” He went back to standing by the dresser and Taryn rolled her eyes.

“That’s exactly it, you’re doing nothing. Normally, when we’re all home you’re like bouncing off the walls. Like I know this time it’s different but Y/n came too so I thought… I don’t know, you just seem off but Brady didn’t think so and I didn’t want to worry Mom… so like, what’s going on? Is everything okay? Are you and Y/n fighting?” 

His eyes bugged out and Taryn would have laughed if she wasn’t so serious. “What no! We’re fine! We’re fine, why-why would you say that?” 

“You’ve been quiet Matt. You’re never quiet, especially when Brady’s home with us.” He rolled his eyes and she huffed at her older brother. “You know it’s true! So... what’s going on?” He sighed and turned to find the box from the drawer. He looked down at the velvet in his hands as he sat on the edge of the bed. Taryn moved to be sitting beside him and gasped quietly. 

“Is that...?” 

“Yeah. I was going to...you know, before the world went to shit. I had it all planned out too. The weather was getting warmer and there’s this hiking trail we like in Banff, it’s only like an hour drive. There’s this perfect spot where I could prop my phone up so I could get it on camera, just like they wanted. But now... I don’t know what I’m going to do.” 

“Do you still want to, you know, propose?” 

“’Course I do. Honestly, I want nothing more. But, they deserve it to be perfect, you know? And like, I don’t know how I could surprise them here, because we’ve been chilling in the same sweatpants for the past week! Asking them to get dressed up would seem suspicious and I want it to be a surprise,”

“Could… could I help you? I might have an idea…” She grinned towards her brother, his eyes brightening at the idea of marrying you. 

***

“Y/N, do you want to do a TikTok with me?” She called to you from across the Tkachuk’s backyard. Taryn must’ve been feeling the quarantine because yesterday the two of you did your nails together, which prompted you to, for once, put on a pair of pants that weren’t Matty’s sweatpants and do your hair, so you had no problem setting down your book and hopping up from your seat to join her. She squealed and you laughed as you joined her. 

“It’s so easy! I promise! So, it’s to a remix of Taylor Swift’s ‘Love Story’ and the only set in stone parts are that you actually kneel when she says ‘knelt to the ground’ and then the camera will start to pull away and then you just freestyle! We can do a couple practice ones before we film it for real, if you want?” 

“Yes, please, you have severely overestimated my dancing skills,” you laughed. Right at that moment, Matthew came out of the house with a Bud Light in his hand. He placed it on the edge of the firepit before walking over to you.

“What’s got you all cracked up?” He pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“Taryn thinks I’m a good enough dancer to film this TikTok on my first try,” He grinned at you. 

“A TikTok you say? Can I do it too? If you can do it surely it’s easy enough for me,” You gave him a playful eye roll and laughed. 

“How bored are you to want to film a TikTok?” 

“I want to spend time with my girlfriend, is that a crime?” He smirked and you cracked a smile.  

Taryn spoke up. “Hey no, this would be perfect! I need to move the camera away from you when you’re dancing anyways, and this way you won’t be alone. And you’ll get Matt’s dancing on camera for future blackmail!” You laughed at her comment and slugged him lightly in the arm. 

“Game on, we’ll see who's the better dancer after this,” He just laughed and then told you to tell what the heck he was doing for this dance. After a while, the two of you were ready to film. 

Taryn got behind her phone and started the music. You got into position and bumped Matthew’s hip before facing the camera. 

Is this in my head, I don’t know what to think. He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring and said

You knelt down and pretended to open a ring box, while Matthew pulled out the box he’d been hiding for six months. 

Marry me Juliet, you’ll never have to be alone

You started to dance as Taryn pulled the camera away from the both of you. Lost in the music, you didn’t seem to notice that Matthew was still on one knee, an adoring smile on his face. 

“Y/n,” 

I love you and that’s all I really know

You stopped dancing and glanced to your side. “Oh my god,” Your hands flew to cover your mouth as you saw Matt still on one knee, but with a black box in his hands. “Are you joking?”

“Not joking, baby, I promise.” He opened the box to reveal the most beautiful ring you had ever seen. It was classy, with just enough bling to catch your eye and go with the rest of your jewelry. Your eyes filled with tears as he started to speak. 

“Y/n, you are the best person I have ever met. I never thought someone would be willing to put up with me, not with my job and the media and how I play my game, but then I met you, and it’s like the whole world shifted. I have fallen more in love with you every day, even the past few days when we do the same thing every day. I love you so much, babe, and all I want is to keep being your person. I know my job means I’ll have to leave sometimes, but with me, with this, I promise you’ll never be alone. I want to be your husband and I want us to have little mini-us’s running around, well really mini-you’s but with my hair, because let’s face it, they aren’t escaping the curls,” You let out a teary laugh, and you could see his shoulder visibly relax a little. “When I look to my future, all I see is you. You are my future. And I know this isn’t perfect or even ideal but..”

“No, no, Matty, it’s perfect.” You whispered, your eyes full of tears. “It’s perfect because it’s with you.”

His grin widened if that was possible, and he looked down at the box in his hands before up to you. “If that’s the case, then Y/n, will you make me the happiest man on Earth and marry me?” 

“Yes! Yes, yes, of course,” You bent down to kiss him, leaving your tears on his cheek when you pulled away. He slipped the ring onto your finger and swept you into a bear hug. “Oh my gosh, we’re going to get married!”

“It’s you and me, baby, for the rest of our lives.” He tried to smirk, but it didn’t last long, a smile covering it as the euphoria overcame him. 

“Okay, okay, show me the ring!! Matthew didn’t tell me he was proposing!” Chantel came out in the backyard with a bright grin on her face. You couldn’t contain the smile on your face and the two of you admired the ring together. 

“I didn’t tell Dad either, don’t get offended,” Matthew said, coming over to meet the both of you. 

“Oh, you liar! You totally called me and asked me for advice.” Keith chimed in with a laugh. “Granted, you never told me you were going to do it today… but I’m happy for you kids.”

“I didn’t think he’d ever get the guts to propose, sorry for the wait Y/n,” Brady chirped, earning a whack from his mother. 

“I don’t mind, he’s worth the wait.” You looked to your fiancé, only to find him already looking at you, his blue eyes gleaming full of warmth. “So worth the wait.”

let me know what you think! thanks for reading!

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Seventeen

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: 70% of this fic is written on my phone lying on my side in bed while using swipe typing bc im too lazy to type out words and it shows

TW: discussion of SA

***

Nesta has an easier time adjusting to a third person in the cabin than she thought she would. Maybe it’s because Azriel indeed minds his business, and half the time Nesta isn’t aware he’s there at all.

Cassian seems to be more irritated by it than anyone else—not his brother, of course, but the fact that he and Nesta no longer exist in their own little bubble. Which is how he ends up at Nesta’s apartment with an overnight bag, sprawled out stomach-down on her mattress while she gets ready for bed.

“TV show or movie?” he asks, clicking through her laptop. Shows are Nesta’s thing and movies are Cassian’s; she feels generous enough tonight to say, “Movie.”

“Thank god,” he mutters, typing something on the laptop. “There’s a Turkish horror flick that I was saving for you.”

“Where do you even find these films?” Grabbing her hairbrush, she flops onto the bed beside him and starts brushing out her brassy locks. Before he can answer, Nesta’s phone buzzes from the stool she uses as a bedside table. Feyre’s name flashes on the screen.

Nesta frowns, but picks up without a second thought. “What is it?”

“Nothing serious,” her sister replies. “Just checking in.”

Before Cassian, Nesta didn’t very much understand the purpose of “checking in” without reason. Now she empathizes with Feyre a little. “I’m fine,” she says.

Deciding she can do better than that, she adds, “Cassian and I are about to start a movie.”

“Is it his choice? I’m so sorry for you.”

Nesta peeks over to where Cassian is still intently searching for his obscure movie and smiles a little. “I like Turkish horror,” she replies.

Cassian overhears and grins approvingly.

“Well, I’m looking at wedding dresses with Rhys so he can prepare for when he inevitably proposes,” Feyre says. “In case you wanted to know.”

Nesta did not particularly want to know, but she doesn’t say this. “Sounds fun. Is that it?”

“For what?”

“This conversation.”

Feyre sighs over the line. “Yes, I’ll let you go now. Thanks for picking up.”

The bar is in hell, Nesta thinks. Mostly because she put it there, but she still feels embarrassed to be congratulated over such small things. “Thanks for keeping it short.”

She’s about to hang up when she hears a male voice speak up in the background, and Feyre interrupts, “Wait—before you go, can you tell Cassian to call Rhys back? He wants Cass’s help picking a new team leader for the Italy project.”

Nesta has no idea what that is, but she says, “Sure, fine.” They say their goodbyes and hang up.

“What’d she want?” Cassian says without looking over at her.

“She said Rhys wants you to call him about the Italy project.”

Cassian turns toward her, half sitting up. “Really? What for?”

“Something about picking a team leader.” She returns to brushing her hair. “Why? What’s the Italy project?”

“Something I thought we put aside for good,” he grumbles. “It’s a year-long overseas project in Milan. Rhys thinks it’s gonna bring in a shit ton of money.”

“Sounds big. What do you have to do with it, though?” She’s never heard of Cassian being involved in Night Court’s international operations, even though he takes on more work than the usual employee.

Cassian shrugs, going back to movie searching. “He wanted me to be the one leading the team, and I guess he still feels petty about me turning him down. Honestly, choosing team leaders outside of my department isn’t even part of my jurisdiction.”

Nesta hesitates. “He offered you the job? When?” She didn’t know this.

“On New Year’s.”

“And you turned it down?”

“Yeah.��� Cassian clicks on a link that looks like it’ll plant fifteen different viruses in Nesta’s laptop. “Found the movie,” he says.

“Why would you do that?” Nesta demands.

“The movie?”

“The job offer! Why would you turn down such a big opportunity without even telling me?”

Cassian laughs in confusion. “Are you angry right now?”

She’s astonished at his nonchalance. “Cassian,” she says. “It’s Italy.”

Italy with the art and history and seaside beauty—it’s on their top five places to see before they die.

“It’s Milan,” he says like there’s a difference, “and it’s an entire year away from you.” He shakes his head, sitting up to face her. “Are you out of your mind?”

She goes still. “Don’t tell me you said no because of me.”

“Of course I said no because of you.”

“It’s your dream job!” she bursts. “Traveling, exploring, being on your own—”

“Those are our dreams. I made those plans with you. The hell am I supposed to do all the way in Italy without you?”

“You sound codependent,” she retorts.

He narrows his brows. “Like you wouldn’t do the same thing in my position?”

He’s right, of course. Nesta would do the exact same thing for him. But Nesta and Cassian are not the same, and they both know it. “You can’t make that comparison,” she sighs.

“Why not?” he demands.

“Because—” She struggles to put it into words. “I would give up a long distance job for you because it would be worth it. You’re worth it. It doesn’t work the other way around.”

“Again: why the fuck not?”

So he’s really going to make her spell it out. “Because you’re a good boyfriend. You’re affectionate and caring, you always go the extra mile for those you love, and you come with all these free perks. It’s a great deal. And I’m not anything terrible, but I’m the bare minimum compared to you. Why would you give up Italy for the bare minimum?”

Cassian looks at her in disbelief. “I don’t even know how you can say so many wrong things in a row.”

“He’s blinded by love,” Nesta mutters to herself.

“First of all,” he holds up a finger, “I don’t know where you learned to compare yourself to me, but I don’t like it. You make it sound like I need to be paid back for every half-decent thing I do, and that is not the case at all.”

“Of course you think that,” she says. “You wouldn’t be a good person if you didn’t.”

“Then let me be a blunt person.” He puts a hand on her knee and looks her in the eye. “You will never be like me. Very few people are; you can’t take it personally.”

“Oh my god.” Her eyes might roll out of her head.

“But you’re not the bare minimum. Not even close.” He states it like an undeniable fact.

“How so?” she challenges.

“Like how Elain told me about this boy who broke her heart in her high school, and how the next day he walked into class in a leg cast. And how she just knew you had something to do with it, and you two had a huge fight about it that lasted a week.”

Nesta does not enjoy that memory being brought up. Elain called her a psychopath for the incident, and to save her feelings, Nesta (rather unconvincingly) said it had been an accident.

“I didn’t push anybody into a creek,” she maintains the lie. “Sometimes people just fall down there.”

“To be fair, you’re a lot more stable now than you were then. Now when people hurt those you care about, you find sneakier ways to hurt them back. Don’t you?”

“I do not,” Nesta defends.

“Really? Because Eris texted me earlier saying you’ve been ignoring him since New Year’s, and he’s starting to get worried that you have something heinous planned for him. I asked him why he would ever think such a thing of you.” Cassian leans forward and rests his chin on her shoulder. “Why would he think such a thing of you, Nesta?”

Cassian looks pretty well off from here, doesn’t he? She remembers Eris’s smug face. Did you know Rhysand’s parents found him sleeping in the streets?

“Because he said a bad thing,” Nesta says, looking down at her fingernails. “And I have an unfortunate reputation at school for getting back at people who say bad things.” Like the time Brian O’Connell made jokes about a rape trial the class was studying, and then couldn’t find an internship at a single firm the following summer.

“And what did he say? Because I can’t imagine he would directly insult you. He actually likes you, ass that he is.” His face is warm so close to her neck.

She looks away. “I won’t repeat it.”

That seems to be all Cassian needs to get an idea of what Eris said. “And how long are you planning on holding it against him?”

“Forever.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Nesta meets the eyes that haven’t left her face this entire time and snorts. “What’s your point?” Seriously, she’s starting to redden at how close he is.

He buries his face in her neck, his stubble rasping against the sensitive skin there. “The point is that you also do a lot for the people you love. Just in a different way.” He pulls away to look her in the eye. “Don’t do anything to Eris, though,” he says. “Not that I care for him or his shit opinions, but whatever you have planned isn’t worth it.”

Nesta wants to scoff in disbelief at the sincerity on Cassian’s face. He’s always choosing kindness, even at the worst moments. “So that’s your argument?” she says. “You won’t go to Italy because your girlfriend has a bad temper and a taste for revenge?”

“That’s my final argument, Your Honor.” He takes her hand. “Forget Milan, will you? One day I’ll take you to Portofino.”

The longer Nesta knows Cassian, the more she finds it useless to hide from him. Which is why she lets him watch the thoughts flit across her face as she considers his words, deciding whether she believes him. Deciding whether he’s right to give her so much devotion.

“Fine,” she finally says. “You’re right.”

A slow smile spreads across his face as he realizes he won. Wrapping his arms around Nesta’s waist and legs, he hauls her into his lap and shifts around until they’re both comfortable. The movie is forgotten for now.

“Out of curiosity…” He noses at the nape of her neck. “What did Eris say about me to make you so angry?”

When Nesta doesn’t answer, he says, “I’ve already heard everything that could possibly be said. The shit that used to get me when I was eighteen doesn’t have the same hold on me a decade later.”

She lets herself relax into his hold. “It was about the time you spent as an orphan.” Technically, he’s still an orphan, but it was different back then. “I didn’t like the tone of his voice.”

Cassian’s answering hum is a low rumble against her shirt. “Did you know my biological father was from Italy?”

Nesta perks up at that. “No.” She assumed he was entirely Algerian, even though he and Azriel probably look ethnically ambiguous to most. “Isn’t that all the more reason to see Italy someday?”

“Not at all,” he says. “If I could pretend that half of me didn’t exist, I would.”

She can’t think of a response that doesn’t involve a question, so she doesn’t reply. She waits for Cassian to speak on his own terms.

“I went to Italy once,” he admits. “For less than a day while my brothers were partying in Monte Carlo. I was young and stupid, and thought I would never be complete if I didn’t know who my father was.”

“Who was he?” She doesn’t know why she’s whispering.

“No one worth remembering,” Cassian says, his arms unconsciously tightening around her. “I put some dots together and realized how he and my mother must have met, how he must’ve—forced himself on her, and I decided that I didn’t care about bloodlines at all. I never returned to Italy after that.”

Nesta’s hands want to reach out and touch him, soothe him. But her muscles are suddenly very cold, and she can only stiffen. “And what about now? Do you… not want to go back?”

“It’s just a place to me,” he says. “Nothing special, nothing terrible. But I like the way it sounds when you talk about it.” His eyes sparkle. “I’d like to pretend it’s my first time going with you.”

“Alright, then.” She nods. “One day, we’ll go together. It’ll be our first time.”

***

Cassian refuses to let Nesta leave bed the next morning, dragging his heavy mouth across her body whenever she tries to get up. She’s about to surrender to him altogether when her phone starts vibrating loudly, insistently.

Breaking away from Cassian’s attempt at cuddling, she answers without checking the caller ID. “Yes?” she croaks sleepily.

“Where the hell have you been?” Emerie demands.

Nesta shoves Cassian away despite his protests, untangling her legs from the sheets. “At home,” she says, getting out of bed and heading for the bathroom. “Am I supposed to be somewhere else?”

“We haven’t seen you in two weeks,” Emerie says. “Gwyn thought your boyfriend’s weird family killed you.”

“That’s not what happened,” Nesta assures, pulling her shorts down and sitting on the toilet. “I just needed some alone time.” People are all around her these days, it seems. Her body still can’t quite adjust to it.

“Well, have you had enough—are you peeing?”

“Yeah.” She wipes and flushes the toilet.

“Well, clear your day and kick your sorry boyfriend out of your place. I can’t remember the last time I went out.”

“Why does everybody always want to go out?” Nesta says as she washes her hands. “What’s wrong with staying in, being safe, never leaving the house?” She dries her hands on a towel and returns to the bedroom, where Cassian is now sitting up and checking his emails.

“You’re preaching to the choir, but this actually wasn’t my idea,” Emerie says.

Nesta and Cassian alert at the sound of a knock from the front door. Nesta never has uninvited guests.

“Hold on a second, Em,” she says, jogging up the short set of steps to the door. She opens it to the sight of an exasperated-looking Gwyn.

“Jeez, next time send a text that you’re alive, will you?” Gwyn says, shoving past Nesta to enter the apartment. “Do you know how worried I’ve been—” She halts midsentence, one foot hovering above a step as she realizes that Nesta isn’t alone. As she sees Cassian in her bed, bare-chested and highly amused.

“Hey.” He raises a hand in greeting.

Gwyn pales.

“Hello?” Emerie calls over the line.

“You girls both share the same brain,” Nesta sighs. “Let me call you back, Emerie.”

Gwyn whirls around just as Nesta hangs up. “That won’t be necessary,” she says quickly, looking embarrassed. “I’ll be outside. I’m sorry.”

She hurries out of the apartment even faster than she came in, ducking her head to hide her face.

Nesta tosses her arms up in the air. “Great,” she says to Cassian. “Your abs scared her away.”

“But I didn’t do anything—”

She shuts the door behind her as she follows Gwyn outside, barefoot and all. She barely notices the freezing cold air or the awful press of damp grass beneath her feet as she catches up to Gwyn and grabs her elbow. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Gwyn jerks suddenly, yanking out of Nesta’s hold. Her breathing seems a little shallow, and she looks even more embarrassed for it. “It’s nothing. I just didn’t know you had someone over.”

“Cassian? He’s cool, you don’t need to be weird about him,” she tries to reassure Gwyn. “Though I did use to tell him that not everybody wants to see him shirtless all the time.”

“It’s not that,” Gwyn says, waving her off.

Nesta gestures to the apartment. “Do you want to come back inside, then? I’m sure he has clothes on by now.”

Gwyn clears her throat uncomfortably and looks down. “I’d rather not. I’m—I don’t like being around men.”

Nesta pauses, not sure if she heard right. “Like, in a ‘check the backseat of your car before getting in’ way, or…?”

“No, like I can’t be alone in a room with a man without feeling sick. It activates my fight or flight, it’s weird.” She’s carefully stiff, like she’s ready to be met with humiliation.

Nesta remembers that Gwyn has never told her about her therapy sessions before, but she knows they’re more intensive than her own weekly conversations with Lana.

“Not that I think your boyfriend is a bad person,” Gwyn adds when Nesta doesn’t respond. “He looks really nice. He sounds nice, too.”

But Nesta doesn’t care about any of that. Unsure of what to do next, she reaches out and awkwardly pats Gwyn on the arm. “Good thing you’ve never been to the cabin, then. Cassian’s brother is staying…” She trails off when she realizes none of this is relevant. “Why are you here so early?” she asks instead.

Gwyn eases up a little at the change in subject. “I missed you. We’ve barely talked since Christmas.”

Nesta didn’t realize people would take such notice to her absence. “Yeah.” She flushes. “I do that sometimes. I’ll send a message next time I go into hibernation, though.”

“You’re freezing,” Gwyn suddenly scolds, noticing how Nesta’s goosebumped arms are wrapped tightly around herself. She unzips her red hoodie and shrugs it off. “Go back inside and get dressed.” She flings the hoodie around Nesta’s shoulders before Nesta can protest. “Meet me at my car. We’re hanging out.”

Nesta knows that a last minute change of events is not the end of the world, even if it sometimes feels like it. For Gwyn and Emerie, she can bear the discomfort of unexpected plans, same as she does for Cassian. But she at least has to know: “How long will we be out?”

“You can come home after lunch.” At Nesta’s face, Gwyn adds, “Lunch will be at two and shouldn’t take more than an hour.”

Looking her friend up and down, someone who has such an easy time understanding her, Nesta nods in satisfaction. She turns around to go back inside.

***

They end up at the library where Gwyn works, in the stacks of the long-abandoned encyclopedia section.

Emerie takes a loud sip from the huge McDonald’s soda she snuck in. “So all this show was because Gwyn didn’t want to work her shift alone?”

“I just have some last minute cleanup to do,” she hisses for the third time, shoving an old book back where it belongs. “Go to the porn section if you’re so bored here.”

“Oh, I definitely will,” Emerie says. “But I’m glad that we’re congregating now, even if it’s in the most depressing part of the library. I have a present for you girls.” She hands Nesta her drink so she can dig around in her purse.

Nesta personally has no complaints. The library is quiet, it smells of paper and old ink, and it holds all her favorite books. It’s almost better than staying in.

Emerie successfully pulls out a handful of folded and wrinkled papers from her bag, smoothing them out as best she can. “One for each of us,” she says, passing the papers around.

Nesta takes her paper and stares at the header. Gwyn is the first to speak. “Pole dancing classes?”

“Why?” Nesta says.

“Well, I originally offered them to Justinian and Isaac but they said no—”

“It’s really not for me,” Gwyn interrupts, trying to pass the registration form back to Emerie. “Sorry.”

Nesta doesn’t give her form back.

“Look,” Emerie says. “I get the hesitation. We’re a handful of boring bitches who hate having fun. But don’t you think that has to change at some point?”

“I’ve known you guys a month,” Gwyn retorts. “We’ve only been boring bitches for a month. This is too much.” She turns to Nesta for help.

Nesta is still staring at the paper. Dancing—on a pole, yes, but it’s still dancing. “I’ll do it,” she says.

Gwyn looks betrayed and Emerie looks elated. “Really?” She hops up and down. “That’s two against one, Gwyn. You have to do it, too.”

Gwyn’s cheeks are turning red in frustration. “You can’t just force this on me—”

“Gwyneth,” a sharp voice interrupts their conversation. Nesta spins around to find a young woman with dark skin and bleached white curls heading in their direction, a stack of books in her arms.

She halts before Nesta and glares. “No food or drink in the library.” She looks pointedly at the 32-ounce in her hand.

“It’s not mine.” Nesta shoves the drink back to Emerie.

But the librarian has turned to Gwyn, who hides the dance class form behind her back. “And what are you doing here?” she demands.

“Just putting up a few books, Merrill,” Gwyn answers quickly.

“While socializing?” the woman named Merrill sneers.

“We were just asking for help finding the romance section. Is that a problem?” Emerie crosses her arms and steps forward, letting a little of her beautiful deadliness slip into her stance. It’s the deadliness of someone at the top of her law class, someone who will graduate in a few months with all the power she could want in the palm of her hand. Nesta gets a rush from playing the lawyer game, too, but she’s never had the kind of ambition that Emerie has. Emerie is a shark sitting around in a small pond.

Merrill is not impressed. She snatches the styrofoam cup dangling from Emerie’s hand and tosses it in the nearby trash can. She turns back to Gwyn. “Hand your badge over and clock out.”

“But I’m not done yet—”

“Now.”

“Okay,” she squeaks. She pulls her ID badge off her neck and hands it to Merrill.

Nesta gapes in disbelief. Before she can speak up, Merrill says, “No loitering in the library. If you don’t have anything you need to check out, leave.” With one final judgmental look, she turns down an aisle of dusty books and disappears.

Gwyn makes a face at her back.

“That woman is not old enough to be acting that misanthropic,” Emerie says after Merrill is gone.

“Whatever,” Gwyn mutters. The registration form is still in her hand. She crumples it into a ball and throws it into the trash. “Let’s get out of here.”

Nesta stares at the trash as Gwyn turns to leave. “Coward,” she says.

Gwyn’s head snaps toward Nesta, her auburn hair swinging. “Excuse me?”

She shrugs. “You heard me.” Emerie’s eyes bounce back and forth between the girls.

“I did,” Gwyn says. “I was just making sure this wasn’t coming from the woman who would sooner bite someone’s head off than do something she doesn’t want to.”

“Girls,” Emerie snaps before Nesta can bite back. “It’s just a stupid dance class. I thought it would be fun to do together, but it doesn’t matter anymore.” Taking Gwyn by one arm and Nesta by the other, she starts steering them out of the stacks like a stern mother. “Now let’s go eat. I’m fucking hungry.”

Gwyn’s mood from the library doesn’t recover, even as they sit down for lunch at the local diner. Nesta thinks Gwyn might actually be sick when the male waiter winks at her while taking her order, and it’s not until long after he’s gone that color returns to her face. When their food arrives, Gwyn only picks at her plate.

“What’s wrong?” Nesta finally has to ask bluntly. “You look pukey.” Did the coward comment affect Gwyn more than she let on, or was it Merrill’s attitude that threw her off?

At Nesta’s words, Gwyn becomes even more pallid. “I just don’t feel great today,” she murmurs, looking around like she’s seeking a way out of the diner. “Sorry guys, I didn’t mean to be such a buzzkill. Maybe I should go home early.”

“Absolutely not,” Emerie says. “If you’re going home, we’re going home with you.”

Gwyn bites her lip, trying to decide if she wants that or not. But something about her antsy demeanor is too familiar to Nesta, because she says, “If you really want to be alone, do you mind driving me home first? Emerie’s car is a mess.”

“You just need to move around a few papers,” Emerie protests.

But Gwyn nods distractedly, already gathering her things. “Sure, no problem.” They pay the bill and go their separate ways.

During the ride home, the sky that’s been gray all day finally breaks open, unleashing a spattering of rain over the town. Nesta watches it sprinkle while Gwyn drives in silence.

“Why are you scared of Merrill?” she eventually asks. “She doesn’t look much older than you.”

Gwyn snorts, but there isn’t much heart to it. “Merrill is my superior, but I can handle her on most days.”

“Just not today?”

Gwyn eyes Nesta warily from the corner of her eye. “No, not today. Or this week.”

Nesta chooses not to push. The dull metal of the cars surrounding them glints under the rain, and they arrive at a red light.

After a minute, she takes a breath and blurts, “I’m not always like that around guys, you know.”

Nesta watches her closely, remembering how ghostly she seemed around Cassian, then the waiter. “Keep going.”

Gwyn stares straight at the traffic ahead, her fingers turning bone white on the steering wheel. “I’m just going through a hard period. Everything upsets me and I don’t know how to think straight. It’s like my brain accidentally traveled to the past and now it’s stuck there.” She sounds shaky, breathless, and it makes Nesta wonder what exactly her mind is experiencing.

Nesta knows what it’s like to be unable to move on. Her own brain has only recently started looking toward the future. “Where are you stuck, specifically?” she asks hesitantly. Maybe she can help Gwyn navigate her way out.

Gwyn’s chin quivers. “In a dark room.” Her lips form a tight line. “Being held down. I’m outnumbered.”

Nesta’s stomach turns. “How far back is it?”

“Two years,” Gwyn whispers. “Lately I can’t even look at anything without—remembering it. Thinking about it. Every time I feel like I’m moving past it, I end up being wrong.”

The light turns green, and Nesta puts a hand on Gwyn’s knee in an attempt to ground her. “Drive,” she commands softly.

Gwyn presses down on the accelerator, but Nesta can feel her leg trembling beneath her hand. She squeezes her knee hard. Even with the dark parts of her own past, Nesta has never felt what Gwyn is feeling right now. So she tries to stick to what she knows.

“It’s like you said,” she says carefully. “You’re going through a period where your brain isn’t being friendly to you. It’s horrible, but you can live with the knowledge that it’ll be over eventually.”

Gwyn shakes her head, holding back tears. “It doesn’t work like that. Once it goes away, it’ll just come back again. And it’ll be like that for the rest of my life.”

“You’re right.” Nesta doesn’t have a solution for that, and she hates it. “You’ll never forget. You can be at the peak of your life and still remember all of it. But,” she says slowly, “whether you reach a point where it barely fazes you, or if you keep crippling under the weight of it decades later, you’ll still be normal. You’ll be a perfectly normal human.”

Gwyn lets out a tearful laugh at that. “What does that even mean?”

Shit. “It means…” Nesta tries to explain herself better. “In case you’re worried that there’s something very wrong with you, I’m here telling you that there’s not. There will never be anything wrong with you.”

Gwyn eyes her skeptically as they turn onto a residential road. “Even if I never get past one nightmare I lived years ago? Even if that nightmare defines me until the day I die?”

“That won’t happen.” Nesta’s tone is simple, factual. “But yes, even then.”

“Really? You’re not gonna tell me to live for the better days or whatever?”

“Does that sound like something that would help you? Because I can say it if it does.”

Gwyn snorts. “No.” But her limbs are steady and her eyes are clear on the road. She clears her throat. “Thank you for listening. I think I might feel a little better now.”

“Was it because of what I said?” Nesta tries not to be too hopeful.

“I wouldn’t give you that much credit,” Gwyn says, crushing her hope. “But I’m glad I told you. It makes things…a lot easier for me.” She exhales deeply.

“You know my plate is mostly empty these days.” Nesta pats her knee. “That means I’ll always have room to help carry your shit.”

They pull up to Nesta’s apartment, and Gwyn parks at the curb. “Give me your dance class thing,” she says suddenly.

Frowning, Nesta pulls the wrinkled paper out of her purse and hands it to Gwyn.

Gwyn smooths it out on the steering wheel and grabs a pen from a cupholder, clicking it. “If you’re going to help carry my shit, I guess I have time for pole dancing now.”

“But that’s mine,” Nesta protests as Gwyn starts filling out the form.

“It can be both of ours,” she says, writing Nesta’s name under hers.

“Really?” Nesta grins with an excitement that she doesn’t easily feel. “You’re going to do it with us?”

“Why would I let you do it without me? So I can become the third wheel in our girl group?” She gives Nesta a look that says No way in hell.

Nesta rolls her eyes. “That would never happen to you.”

“Sure,” Gwyn drawls. She finishes the form and folds it in half before pocketing it. “I’ll give this to Emerie as a gift.” She leans over to peck Nesta on the cheek. “Now get home. Love you.”

Nesta turns red at the words and coughs. “Thanks for the ride,” she responds, getting out of the car.

“Say it back!” Gwyn calls after her. But Nesta shuts the door in her face and waves, pretending she can’t hear her. Gwyn mock-scowls at her through the window, but lets her off easy and drives away.

That’s enough feelings for today, Nesta decides. Even if her chest is swelling with emotion for her friend. It’s a sweet hurt that lingers long after she returns to her empty apartment.

***

a/n: i’m back in my no plot, just vibes era

taglist: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes

[pcvensies]

*.• Si vis amari.

0. prologue.

* dad!satoru x mom!nanamioc x son!megumi ( kinda adopted??? kinda just taken??? ) slowburn, angst!, long fic, found family trope, fluff, funny, idk pls keep reading :(

* word count: 1300.

* in which 18 year old gojo satoru is left in charge of 6 year old fushiguro megumi, with the help of 17 year old nanami suki (oc).

{ HEY SO UH this fic is very self indulgent but i hope it finds some found family bitches like me who needed it. because damn i did, so i wrote it. ik it’s not a reader fic IM SORRY OKAY, i know those are more liked but give suki a chance we truly are all suki. PLEASE DONT LET IT FLOP IT IS A PROJECT V DEAR TO ME. this is a small intro to see if u guys like it or nah. love u <3 }

next part

It was a terrible idea, really. Out of all the terrible ideas Gojo Satoru had had - and there had been plenty of them - this one was definitely the worst of them all. But we are meant to respect the dead’s wishes, right? And a favour asked by a now dead man, even if not much, meant something to him.

Also, he was dying to see the look on the Nanami twins’ faces, especially Kento’s.

The way to their apartment was silent, and awfully awkward, as any try he had made to keep a conversation with that hedgehog of a child had been ignored by the boy. Such a little asshole.

“Can you at least smile a little?”.

Silence.

“Maybe don’t, Nanamin doesn’t either. He may be more receptive to those of his kind…”.

Silence.

Satoru had no patience to deal with any of this anyway, and the small six year old by his side possessed an incredible ability to get on his nerves, even without saying a single word. Can he even speak? Geez, Fushiguro, he thought to himself, crossing his arms over his chest as the elevator started going up.

The small card which read “Nanami” wasn’t far from the elevator, and Gojo’s only thought was how annoying it must be to hear the engine going all day. But they had refused, and had been allowed somehow, to live in the school, so they had brought that upon themselves.

Kento was doing the dishes when the bell rang, and he sighed, shaking the soap from his hands.

His sister, Suki, was in the shower, and she had left him to clean everything from dinner, as always. Don’t get it wrong, she was as responsible as a seventeen year old living by herself in the city could be, but there was something about the dishes that just “grossed her out”.

“BELL RINGING!”, he heard her yell from the shower, and rolled his eyes.

Like he was deaf, or something. However, it made him suspicious that anyone would ring at their door after dinner time, and he gave it a moment of hesitation before walking to the entrance.

“Oh, Nanamiiiinnn, c’mon… I know you’re home. It’s not like you do anything with your life outside of the classes anyway, you can’t trick me!”.

Kento almost turned around in that exact moment, knowing damn well that nothing that had to do with Gojo at that time of the day could be good, but he was a well educated boy. So against his own wishes, he opened the door.

“It’s nine thirty, Gojo”, was his greeting, as he looked at the white haired boy in front of him.

Satoru waved his hand in front of him, like taking importance from it, and looked around the place, eyes searching for the other twin. In the worst scenario, Kento would try to call the police on him. But if Susu was around, she’d be able to talk him out of it.

“Gojo, I’m serious”.

“Are you ever not, dear Nanami?”, the man replied fast, followed with a sigh, “Isn’t Suki home? She could be of use right now, honestly”.

Satoru had to be very fast to get his foot between the door and the wall, or Kento would’ve locked him out for that comment.

The white haired boy apologised with a chuckle, and his eyes finally found the pink streak of hair, almost drowned by a sea of blonde, that covered Suki’s head.

She was tiny, he had realised, much shorter than himself and her twin, the big red sweatshirt she was wearing making her even smaller. Her honey-ish eyes found Gojo’s sight, and the boy sent her a grin.

“Sue, you have finally decided to bless us with your prese-“.

“What have you done this time, Gojo?”, was all he got from her, as she tied her hair and walked to the door, now standing next to her brother, “Need somewhere to hide from Yaga?”.

Kento sighed once again, ready for the bickering battle that was set to start between the two, but to his surprise, Satoru kept quiet about the remark.

He rubbed the back of his neck, almost hesitating to say whatever he wanted to say, and the Nanami’s frowned at his behaviour.

“Alright I think it’ll be easier if I show you”, he finally spoke, and took a long step to the left.

Behind him, a little boy stood. His black hair was a mess, almost covering his eyes, and he was wearing no more than a t-shirt to cover his upper body from the night’s cold.

He looked up at Kento, a serious expression on his face, and then at Suki. He didn’t say a word, and simply looked back down.

Gojo laughed nervously at the silence, watching Kento’s horrified expression contrasting with his twin sister’s curious one.

“It’ll all make sense if you let me-“.

Slam.

Before he could even finish, the door was closed in his face, and both him and the kid gasped at the yelling that came from behind.

“I’m going to call Yaga”.

“Ken stop! Don’t you think that if he could have brought him to Yaga, he wouldn’t have already?! You didn’t even let him explain himself!”.

“Because there’s no good explanation to Gojo Satoru appearing at our house, in the night, with a child! What explanation do you need?!”.

It was a little funny, honestly, to hear Kento lose his temper. Yelling and yelling about how even opening the door had been a bad idea. He should’ve seen it coming, one of Gojo’s terrible ideas.

A sneeze silenced the argument, and Gojo looked down at the kid, who cleaned his nose with the end of Satoru’s sweatshirt.

“Hey, don’t-“.

Again, he was interrupted by the door, this time as it opened, to reveal just the Nanami girl. She sighed deeply, and crouched down in front of the child, giving him a small smile.

“Are you cold, sweetheart?”, she asked softly, hands covered in the sleeves of her clothes, as she rubbed the boy’s naked arms.

The kid nodded hesitantly, looking up at the boy, and Satoru shrugged, walking in as Suki got up and signaled them to.

The girl closed the door behind them, and walked through the dark corridor, coming back a few minutes later with a small Hello Kitty jumper. It was made of white wool, with a small patch of the cat’s face in the middle of the chest.

The boy put it on without looking much at it, covering his cold arms and body with it, and Suki gave Gojo an annoyed look, like lecturing him with her eyes.

They had met a few years ago, when Satoru was a second year and they got accepted in the school. Kento and him were nothing alike, and quite a strange pair, but Suki was much more extroverted and easy going, always replying to Gojo’s remarks with even smarter ones.

They had all grown into each other, as much as the Nanami boy wouldn’t admit it out loud.

“It’s itchy”.

Suki stopped sending angry glares to Satoru to look down at the kid, who kept his sight on his shoes as he scratched his neck. The girl ruffled his hair, chuckling.

“I think what you meant to say there is ‘thank you, Nanami-san’. It’s the only one I have that is your size, kid”, she spoke, and her eyes opened wide as she heard the kid’s stomach growl, “Are you hungry?”.

The kid didn’t reply, he simply nodded his head slowly, and the girl looked up at Satoru again.

“Care to explain, Gojo?”.

n/a. leave some feedback guys i havent written in so long and i am: scared. I AM BEGGING U I NEED EXTERNAL APPROVAL.

— lulu.

[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.” 

[miraeluc]

you have an anxiety attack

prompt: “after a long day you’re just trying to cook for you and your roommate, but when you accidentally switch salt and sugar the stress dawns upon you and you lose it.”

pairing: kaeya x gender-neutral reader

warnings: description of an anxiety attack, explicit language

word count: 1.6k

genre: fluff, angst

rough day? 

no

roughest of the rough 

it started in the morning - all was good until you were all dressed and ready to go

all you needed to do was brush your teeth

of course you dropped toothpaste on your new blouse and had to change because your boss would literally kill you if you strutted in there with toothpaste stains on your clothing 

that didn’t upset you too much anyway,, yep, it kinda sucks but it is what it is

you went to work

that’s when it started to REALLY go downhill

first, you had to sit your ass in this tiny cubicle all day and it remained right on that chair every time you stood up

that’s what it felt like at least

then, you lost data that you’ve been working on for a MONTH

an entire month’s worth data!!!! LOST!!!!

curse you and your issue with forgetting where you put your folders

so you started over

was it worth it? 

no

your boss hated it

you ended up dropping the project overall,, handed it over to a co-worker

your excuse was that you felt too ‘unfit’ for the whole project and he would totally be a better fit!

poor bennett 

bennett is a nice guy, you always hang out with him during break

you usually talk shit about the other co-workers and he just listens and sits there like ◕ ◡ ◕

he’s just there for the food you bring him, really 

he’s a little dumb so he took the project from you with no hesitation

“i’ll do it for you, dont even worry about it, y/n!”

you ended up working overtime 

you had about 7 projects to finish until tomorrow morning and they were all only half-done 

so you got your coffee, turned off your phone and got to work

you finished at 9pm

your work hours are 8am-5:30pm

nope, not having a great time 

well, at least you can go home now!

you pack up your stuff and get up, leaving this hellhole of an office, stretching as you wait for the elevator before checking your phone to see 7 missed calls from your roommate

aka kaeya

aka boy that is most likely emotionally unavailable

aka boy that KEEPS TURNING OFF THE HEATERS TO LEAVE YOU TO FREEZE

his excuse is always that he can’t handle the warmth but you’re sure its so you whine about the cold so he can hug you to warm you up

maybe you have a teeny tiny crush on him???? BUT WHO CAN BLAME YOU 

he’s a whole package - the only thing he’s lacking is emotional availability lmao

which is why you never mentioned the day by day blooming feelings you’ve been developing for him

there would be no positive outcome from you telling him. he would politely turn you down, having to explain yet again that he doesn’t see himself having actual romantic feelings to someone 

you’re content with your current relationship with him

right?

kaeya is known as the fuckboy! of the city

neither of you mind, he’s having his fun

and you know that there’s much more to it 

you’re very happy to have gained his trust enough for him to let his flirty side down when with you, at least

well, there’s no time to ponder over your relationship with him because you’re already sprinting to catch the last bus of the day

right as you got to the station it drove away

fuck

what now?

you have to walk home. alone. in the dark.

oh well. 

usually bennett drives you home but obviously he left earlier

its only a 15 minute walk you can do it

it’s not that bad there’s street lamps hey!

not that bad until it starts to rain, apparently

by the time you get home there’s water in places rainwater shouldn’t be

kaeya is running by the time he hears the front door

“where were you??”

“why didn’t you reply to my calls??”

“do you have a slight idea about how worried i w-”

he stops when he sees your soaked figure and tired expression

“oh, y/n, what happened?” 

he immediately helped you chuck off your wet coat and shoes 

“i worked overtime and missed the last bus so i had to walk home”, you sighed

he nodded and hummed “Go ahead and take a shower then, wouldn’t want you to get sick now, would we?” he winked

you scoffed but nodded anyway

 “yeah, especially in this coLD FUCKING APARTMENT BECAUSE YOU REFUSE TO LET THE HEATERS TURNED ON-”

you only heard him laugh before shutting the door in the bathroom and jumping into the shower, needing to warm up because you were sure your toes were about to fall off from the cold

at least the shower went well

:///

you got dressed in lounge attire when you got out of the shower, walking to the kitchen because you were very hungry

you gave bennett all your food today so you didnt have any left

he just looked so hungry

ANYWAYS

you’re in the kitchen, deciding on what to cook

if you ask kaeya he will tell you to just drink wine instead so, no

you kind of want something sweet so you decide to bake cupcakes

kaeya shows up too

“what’re you baking?”

he sat and watched as you gathered all the ingredients you need

“cupcakes. how was your day?”

you strike up a conversation - all you talked about today was work and you need some decent interaction, plus kaeya is a super nice talk partner

“good. i had a day-off today so i layed in bed all day”

you hummed, stirring the eggs and flour 

“how come? you never get off”

“no reason, i was forcibly given a day off- well anyways, what i wanted to tell you about before you worried me because i thoght you were deAD when you didn’t respond, is that i need your help setting up a date for diluc-”

you stopped listening halfway

you were looking at the unopened sugar bag on the counter

you just stirred the sugar in, why is it unopened????

you look over at the open bag of salt

wait a second 

you take out a little dough and taste it

FUCK

“hello??? earth to y/n?? are you even liste-”

he stops himself as soon as you look at him with your lower lip trembling 

uhhhhh

he’s never been in this situation

“y/n?? why are you crying-”

he looks at the counter and the dough, then he sees the salt beside the bowl you were stirring in and leans over to try some

oh, that’s why

“oh come on, is that what you’re crying over?” he snorted

he could barely catch you when you collapsed and started sobbing 

he immediately regreted what he said

“hey, y/n, it’s just a little dough! its okay-” 

you just sobbed and he sat down with you, sighing and pulling you into a tight hug

you felt your lungs constricting and your hands started shaking 

you didn’t even notice how antsy you felt all day until now

you gasped for air and he tightened his grip on you

“w-why am i so worthless?!”

you punched his chest

“i can’t do a single thi-ng with-out messing it up!”

punch

“i’m so us-useless”

punch

“i should just kill m-”

he immediately pulled away and cupped your face before you could finish what you were about to say

“y/n, look at me. you had a bad day - you’re not useless! you’re stressed out! you’re one of the most hardworking people that i know- and, and don’t you ever mention anything about killing yourself! i won’t let you go, not as long as im here”

you were too busy fighting against the constricting feeling in your lungs to notice the tear slipping down his cheek before he hugged you tightly again

your hands gripped at his tshirt

his hand rested over your shaky ones

it broke him

seeing you in such state hurt him so much, he felt his own heart breaking a little with every gasp you took 

“come on, let’s breathe together”

his voice was soft when he spoke to you

he took a deep breath in, you following

you wrapped your arms around him and leaned your head against his chest when breathing out 

hearing his heartbeat made you feel safe

he kept breathing with you until he was more than sure you could breathe comfortably again 

why did he feel like this?

sure, flirting with girls is fun 

and ghosting them is also fun

he usually doesn’t care about hurting them

but why does he feel the need to protect you from all bad things?

and why does your pain hurt him too?

he sighs and shakes his head as if that would clear his mind 

(it doesn’t)

oh well. 

taking care of your needs is more important right now

he picks you up and walks over to the couch, sitting down, placing you on his lap and hugging you 

“you’re not cooking anything, we’ll order takeout.”

you sniffled and nodded 

you did feel your heart flutter a little when he sat you down on him

he’s never done that 

you ignore it and reside into the warmth he gives instead, nuzzling your face into his chest 

he smiles softly and strokes your hair, using his free hand to type in what you were ordering

you both fell into a comfortable silence

at some point he thought you fell asleep lol

“kaeya?”

he rose his brows a little and looked down, humming

“thank you.”

additional notes: welp. this was my first drabble! it was very fun to write and i genuinely look forward to writing more! i’d appreciate it alot if you leave any feedback or even requests for drabbles :-)

[crispin-kreme]

how to mend a broken heart ; kim sunoo

part 5/7 of the series

synopsis: every one is born with a heart that glows and it is visible amongst themselves. kim sunoo has the brightest heart and so do you. but a conflict arises between sunoo's life, making the heart lose its glow. gradually, sunoo has become numb to pain once his heart lost his glow. will you be able to ignite his heart again or lose him forever?

genre: angst, slight fluff, best friends to lovers au

pairings: student! kim sunoo x gn! reader

warnings: grammatical errors, car accident, and blood

notes: look who finally updated- im gonna finish this series in a bit because it just hit me that my classes are nearing (im starting on july 21 ew) so yea yall get the gist. sorry for not updating in a long time but anyways- enjoy! also thanks to @atsuwiee for helping out with the plot! <3

sunoo was probably born with the brightest heart amongst his classmates. he kept the brightest smile and he lets out the brightest laughter. being friends with him was easy. considering you both grew up in the same neighborhood and you both study in the same school.

he was a social butterfly and you were absolutely the quite opposite but you still managed to get yourself a small group of friends. your heart grew in an average level. you were happy and at times you were sad. unlike sunoo, you bet that his heart grows brighter than yours.

with sunoo’s bright outbursts of energy, you can’t help yourself fall in love with him. the way he smiles and his eyes quickly resembles a fox, the way he laughs at your lame jokes, and the way he talks gracefully about his day. oh you were a hopeless romantic over him. on the other hand, sunoo loved you from afar as well. he simply admires every thing about you. he loves you as well.

“y/n! how was your day?” sunoo says as he walks beside you “its okay.” you simply replied. both of you were exiting the school gates, school has finally ended for this day. both of you then just decided to take a quick stroll around town. “okay? what do you mean by ‘okay’?” he asks. “sunoo, i don’t have to explain that. its alright. my day went well.” you said with a soft smile placed onto your lips. sunoo smiled “good then!” he replied.

you looked at sunoo and asked “how about you? how was your day?” sunoo shrugged “boring as usual.” he rolls his eyes “why did the teacher even separate us into two different classes?! we were always in the same class, right? it’s so boring without you.” sunoo ranted and frowned “we literally live in the same neighborhood. you can come to my house anytime.” you pointed out. sunoo’s mouth became agape “...right.” he says.

sunoo quickly checked his phone and suddenly gasped “oh no- i was supposed to go to my groupmates’ house today!” he exclaimes. “eh- what for?” you asked “for a project. don’t worry, i think their house isn’t far from here.” sunoo explained. “okay- i’ll take a detour now. take care, y/n! call me when you get home.” he tells you before running away in a rush for a school work.

you sighed as you were left alone on the sidewalk. “gosh- i’m hungry...” you mumbled to yourself. the sun was almost down but that didn’t stop you from going to a convinience store and grabbing a snack as dark came.

as you arrived home, you threw yourself on your bed. it was about 7 in the evening already. you were still alone and your parents weren’t home yet so you decided to call sunoo since you arrived home.

he didn’t pick up. it was only a voicemail.

again and again and again. sunoo didn’t pick up.

you sighed as you faced your ceiling “maybe he’s tired...” you muttered under your breath. you did your night routine before you could even go to bed. you see your heart beating- still glowing so you didn’t really have a problem with anything.

all you didn’t know, as you fall asleep. sunoo is slowly being rushed to the hospital. with his blood stained face and an unbearable pain on his head, its no surprise that he might not even get through this night due to the accident.

the glow of sunoo’s heart started to dim.

hours into your sleep, someone calls you. you stirred in your sleep as you grabbed your phone under your pillow. you just assumed it was sunoo since he’s the only person who can call you at this ungodly hour. you picked up only to hear a woman crying over the phone. you immediately jolted up as you recognized the voice.

“mrs. kim?” you responded to sunoo’s mother. “y/n? i’m so sorry to call you this late.” his mother says apologetically “its alright.” you politely replied. “its alright. what’s wrong, mrs. kim?” you asked in curiousity and concern “well... its about sunoo.” his mother stated.

the news made you feel uneasy. you felt your world stop.

its been a week since the accident. sunoo wasn’t coming to school nor sunoo was contacting you. when you tried to visit sunoo, he forbid you to do so. his texts became shorter and blunt as well as his attitude. you checked the glow of your heart and it was still glowing at a normal rate. you wonder how sunoo’s heart is glowing right now.

sunoo’s heart completely lost its glow. sad to say, his condition made him numb to any pain. he wanted to be isolated. after that car accident, it was discovered that sunoo has turned deaf due to the severe head trauma he experienced during the accident. ever since he got discharged, he never showed up to school and contacts you at a seldom rate.

truly, he wanted to be isolated because of his condition. he feared that you will never love him back because he is now completely deaf. he could still talk but he still needs to learn some sign languages at the moment.

you didn’t hesitate to storm into his house (with the notice of his parents of course. you let them know that you were going to visit him). you made your way quickly into his house and in front of his bedroom. you knocked aggresively. you were a bit furious on why he didn’t want you to visit him thus, you being aggresive.

“open the door, fucker!” you raised your voice. sunoo was curled up in bed, not knowing you were there in front of his door. “i’m coming in you ‘lil shit.” you announced as you barged in his door. you saw sunoo curled up in bed, not noticing your presence. you closed the door and stood in front of him.

sunoo suddenly jolted up upon seeing your presence “y-y/n!” he stutters. sunoo needed to explain faster so that you could communicate with him. “before you talk. i have something to say.” he says. you sit down beside him on his bed. sunoo fixes his posture and looks at you straight in the eye.

“i- y/n, i-i’m deaf.” sunoo said. your eyes widened. “...so please. just type your response in the notes. i couldn’t hear you. i’m so sorry.” he explained, as he tries to regulate his voice. you were still in shock so you nodded and grabbed your phone. you typed in your response.

so this is why you’ve been avoiding me ever since the accident?

sunoo read your response and nodded in reply.

why? you thought that i would dislike you for it?

“yes...” he replied with his head low. “i-i really thought of that.” he added. still, you could see how sunoo was a bit blunt. but sunoo’s heart started to glow little by little, he could feel some warmth.

you listened to him carefully. sunoo’s tears started to form and fall down. “i- i love you, y/n! when i knew i lost my hearing, i feared that you’ll never feel the same way for me.” he explained. sunoo’s heart started glowing brightly again.

“its ridiculous to love someone who can’t hear, right?” he asked rhetorically as he wiped his tears. you couldn’t help but tear up too now that he confessed to you. you brought his face up to your sight and cupped his face.

sunoo reads your lips.

‘i love you too.’ is what you said and sooner later you had to type it in. but sunoo understood you.

“how-“ sunoo gets cut off as you kissed his lips. he wiped your tears “stop crying...” sunoo says as he tried to smile. “i love you so much.” he adds.

your heart glowed brightly like the sun so as sunoo’s. he feels your warmth again, he feels happy.

finally, even without hearing your voice, his broken heart is now mended.

would you like to proceed?

yes/go back

[amphxtrite]

cedric diggory x fem!reader

warnings: swearing

summary: Y/n begins to harbor feelings for a certain hufflepuff and the twins try to take it into their hands to try and get you together.

word count: 2.7k

enjoy <3

___________________________________

Astronomy was always one of your favourite classes. Spending hours looking up at the midnight sky and learning about the glittering stars that lit up the night always amazed you, whether you were at home lying in the grass or glancing into a telescope on the astronomy tower. Taking another look into your telescope you chart the last few planets for your project and take a deep breath of the clear, autumn air. Looking over to your right, you see a handsome boy with a mop of brown hair gazing at you. When the brunette sees you looking back at him his face goes a light pink and he quickly turns his attention back to his star chart.

Cute. You think to yourself, smiling slightly.

“Hey Fred, George?” you ask the red-headed twins by your side as you walk through the halls to breakfast. “What’s up, little star?” Fred questions. Little star was the nickname the twins had come up for you when they first found your love for astronomy and pairing it up with the fact you were much shorter than them, they thought it was perfect.

“Who was that brunette in our astronomy class? He was in Hufflepuff I think.” You started. “Ooh, does someone have a crush?” George teases. You can feel the tip of your ears go bright red at this. “what?! Oh, no, no” you stumbled quietly, taking a seat at the gryffindor table, the twins sitting across from you. “I just saw him looking at me in class and I was wondering who it was.” you finished quickly, starting to butter a piece of toast.

“Well my dear y/n,” Fred starts of dramaticly. “That was Cedric Diggory.” George finishes for him. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard of him before, he’s pretty popular.” He continues. “Cedric Diggory...” you test the name in your mouth, “Rings a bell, but i’m not quite sure, he plays quidditch doesn’t he?”

“Right you are y/n!” Fred smiles, shoveling a spoon of cereal into his mouth. Fred seems to take a glance behind you and his eyes widen as he breaks into a smile. “Speak of the devil, the bloke’s lookin’ at you right now!” he laughs and starts to wiggle his eyebrows at you. Rolling you eyes you slowly turn around and sure enough you’re met with a pair of beautiful grey eyes. You quickly swivel back around again and bury your pink face into your arms. “Blimey Georgie seems as though our little star’s got a big, fat, crush.” Fred jokes as he notices you embarrassment. “Can it Weasley, I haven’t even talked to him before.” you mutter. This seems to only send the twins into even more hysterics. Deciding to try your luck again, you turn around and look at the table filled with yellow and black ties, eventually again meeting the eyes of Cedric Diggory, this time feeling brave you offer him a smile and a wave. He grins back at you, and you decide you were going to try and talk to the adorable hufflepuff.

“shit, shit, shit.” you mutter to yourself running as fast as you could between crowds of confused students, you had spent too much time planning a new prank with the twins that now you were going to be late. You silently curse them under your breath. What made it worse was you had potions first thing in the morning and you knew Snape would bring hell down on you if you were late. Bursting into the classroom you made your way to the last open seat and hurriedly got out your parchment, quills and text book. “Nice of you to finally join us L/n.” Snape sneered at you. “you’re lucky this time, being right on time, but don’t think I won’t hesitate to take away house points next time, understood?” If looks could kill you’d be dead where you sat.

“Yes sir.” You say quietly, still slightly out of breath, you look up and suddenly the wind is getting knocked out of your lungs again, because sitting there is the boy himself, Cedric Diggory, you catch yourself staring and offer him a small smile before turning back to your papers, you didn’t need Snape lashing out at you again, he was being very generous already. As Snape continued to drone on and on about the importance of cutting your ingredients properly, after another gryffindor had botched his potion, a small piece of parchment is pushed your way.

Hey, how are you today?

reading the note, you grab your quill and scribble something back.

Bloody tired how bout you?

you slide the note to the brunette and await his response.

Bored, don’t understand how snape can go on and on for this long at a time, ridiculous really, no one cares.

you giggle silently and the note is ripped from you hands. Glancing up terrified, Snape is glowering at the two of you. “Writing notes in this class is strictly prohibited you two, 10 points from hufflepuff and gryffindor!” He shouts. You sigh and lay your head on your arms, wishing you were up in the astronomy tower with Professor Sinistra gazing at the constellations, you had always been one of her favourites.

When Snape finally dismisses class you stuff your parchment back into your bag and set off for transfiguration, turning out of the class you feel a warm hand gently grab your wrist, you turn around and meet those beautiful grey eyes, Godric you could stare at them foreve- “I’m sorry about that.” he apologizes, his head hanging motioning towards the classroom. You give him an understanding smile. “It’s alright, if anything im upset at Snape, that prat’s always getting in others business.” you say with a light laugh. Cedric seems to smile at this. “Guess we kind of got started on the wrong foot, I’m Cedric, Cedric Diggory.” He smiles, stretching out his hand. “y/n l/n” you say, taking his large hand into yours and shaking it. “Where are you headed y/n?” he asks. “Oh i’m on my way to transfiguration.” you reply back, “I’ve got herbology, but I was wondering if I could walk you to class?” You can almost see a light pink hue on his cheeks. You smile and agree making your way down the halls and corridors, making small talk with the hufflepuff, you don’t want it to end, the ways his eyes light up reminds you of the stars. “Well this is my stop.” you sigh sadly and look back at Cedric, thanks again for walking me.” you smile sweetly at him. “Anytime y/n, you’ve got astronomy later tonight, right?” he asks hopefully. “yup, I’ll see you there?” you wave at him. “see you then.” He agrees turning and heading to the green houses. You can barely focus on Professor Mcgonagall’s lesson, your mind constantly drifting back to those stunning grey eyes and soft brown curls, sighing in contentment you find yourself looking forward for astronomy even more than usual.

Fred and George immediately notice the look of love on your face and they silently began forming a plan to get the two together.

“Well hello there little star.” George says casually, sliding in beside you at lunch time with a wicked grin playing on his lips.“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask suspiciously. “What? Little ol’ me? I have no idea what you’re talking about.” putting emphasis on the no. Fred chooses then to appear on you other side as you bring a spoonful of soup to your lips. “It’s just we couldn’t help, but notice you and little Diggory walking together, and you looked quite happy during class today.” Fred nudges you with his elbow. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, me and Cedric were just talking.” you state turning your attention back to your lunch. “Really?” George asks “because your blush seems to beg to differ.” he continues teasing you. You mentally curse your red cheeks, and continue to sip on your soup.

As midnight rolls around you all but jump and run out the portrait door to get to the astronomy tower almost running over the twins in your path. “Woah, slow down there y/n what’s got you in such a rush?” you sigh and try to push past them, “I’ve got to get to the astronomy tower you nitwits.” unsuccessfully pushing them over. “Alright, alright little star.” let’s get going, don’t want to keep your little prince charming waiting.” he says in a sing-song voice, referencing a muggle fairy tale you enjoyed. “Oh shut it you twat.” you roll your eyes at him.

Finally climbing up the tower, the sight of the scene in front of you never ceases to take you breath away, the beautiful carved stone of the castle and the midnight sky, littered with thousands of twinkling lights. You take a second to appreciate the sight in front of you until George pushes you out of the way.“Christ y/n you realize there are more people in the class right?” you scoff lightly at him before turning to see Cedric climbing up the stairs, his bookbag on his shoulders. “Hey y/n” he says when his eyes land on you, “hey Ced, you say sweetly, walking over to greet him. Fred scoffs at you “you’ve never greeted us like that now have you little star.” you give him a warning look feeling the tip of your ears heat up again before making your way towards Cedric.

“Beautiful night isn’t it love?” He says turning towards the dark sky, your knees start to weaken at the nickname, but you stay strong. “Sure is, did you get the paper done for today?” you continue on.

George nudges Fred, “let operation get Ceddy and y/n together begin.” he says with a smirk. Professor Sinistra soon begins today’s lesson, “alright everyone, grab a partner and head to your stations, make sure you have your. star charts and a quill” she announces. You immediately turn to Fred and George, you had the habit of working in a group of three and Profeser Sinistra never minded. The two red-heads must’ve had other plans though because they began to turn and walk away from you and your usual spot. Frowning slightly you turn around and run into what feels like a wall... There isn’t a wall here... Looking up you blush and begin to stutter out an apology, for you had run straight into Cedrics chest. He seems almost baffled, but soon regains his train of thought. “H-hey, um- y/n, would you like to be my partner? I-I noticed the twins already left so...” he asks quietly, you have the urge to just lean up and kiss him, but instead you take a second just to admire the adorable boy before you, his pink cheeks, the way his gaze seemed to wander, never landing on you, and how he figeted with his wand, twirling it around in between his fingers. “Of course Ced, let’s get started.” you smile at him and you see his usual happy personality return. Sinistra begins to explain the assignment in depth. “I would like you to locate and chart these stars for me...” she began to call out a list of stars and planets and you and Cedric began to jot them down. “Do you want to alternate looking into the telescope?” you ask, turning to the brunette again. “It’s alright little star, I know how much you love Astronomy.” Your breath catches in your throat. “you know about that nickname?” you laugh nervously. “Of course y/n, I always hear Fred and Geoge calling you it.” Was it just you or did he sound... Jelous? you didn’t get to finish your thought as Fred called across the tower. “Oi, Diggory! Get your own nickname for her, that ones ours!”

“Mr. Weasley!” Profeser Sinistra snaps, “turn back to your telescope and focus!” You laugh again and turn back to Cedric. “Well you heard him, you’re going to have to find a new nickname.” Cedric starts to think this over. “I’ll think of one soon, let’s get started.” You nod and clasp your hands around the telescope, pulling it closer as you peak into it. you begin to search for the different points, but instead get lost in all the beautiful sights. Without noticing you begin to trace the constellations and stare in awe at the faraway planets. You eventually start to call out coordinates to Cedric, but he doesn’t answer, turning to look at him, confused, he seems to be lost in thought, pondering a great question or rethinking a happy memory as he’s got a small grin on his face. You snap him out of his trance by waving a hand int front of his eyes. “Cedric? You in there?” you say jokingly, poking his nose. “hm- oh yeah! sorry about that where was Sirius again?” you roll your eyes and smile, repeating the coordinates again. This little exchange doesn’t go unnoticed by the red-headed pranksters, who feel the edges of their lips perk up. “Hey George, I guess they didn’t really need our help after all, they seem to be all over eachother already!” Fred sighs to his twin. “Maybe we can give them one last push later?” George suggests. “What did you have in mind?” the eldest twin grins mischievously.

“And done!” you clap your hands together and start to tuck your parchment back into your bag. “Thanks for writing those down for me Cedric, it gets kinda hard when i’m always looking at things off topic.” you giggle softly. “Anytime y/n I had fun.” he grins back at you, smiling fondly at the memory of you gazing into the stars, permanently engraving it in his mind. Handing over your star chart to Profeser Sinistra, the two of you begin to make you way back down the astronomy tower, joking and laughing all the way down. As you reach the bottom you feel a shoulder bump into yours and you stagger, tripping over the last step. You brace for impact, but instead you feel two strong arms embrace you and a distant voice saying, “can’t go wrong with the classics.” and a loud high-five. You were going to kill the twins. Looking back up at the hufflepuff boy, you begin to mutter out an apology for what felt like the millionth time today and begin to back away, the arms around you only tighten, you glance back up and meet again with those piercing grey eyes and melt. “It’s alright love, glad I was here to catch you.” If possible you can feel your check heat up even more trying, but again failing to look away. You’re about to open your mouth when Cedric speaks again. “I think I found a good nickname for you. Of course, if you like it.” he begins. “Oh? Do enlighten me Ced.” you tease. You can feel Cedric lean in slightly closer to your ear and with a soft voice he whispers.

“My star.” he says simply. “what do you think?” he’s smiling hopefully at you now. You changed your mind, the twins were now your favourite people in the whole wide world, well second maybe... “I quite like it.” you finally say finally, finding your voice again. “But, I’m not exactly yours yet am I?” you’re surprised at your own confidence. “Well, I suppose we’re going to need to change that huh? How’s Friday, 7 o’clock by Black Lake?” He says his smile growing wider. “You’ve got yourself a date Diggory.” you wrap your arms around the boy in front of you and feel him spin you around in circles, the both of you laughing happily. You and Cedric walk hand-in-hand back towards the gryffindor common room. “Thanks for walking me back Cedric, I’ll see you tomorrow.” giving him one last hug you turn back around and walk towards the portrait, whispering the password before walking in. “Soo?” George begins. “Are we the best or are we the best?” Fred finishes smugly. You wrap both of them into a tight hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” you whisper into their shoulders, grinning like a madman, Fred and George were congratulating you and patting your back. Little did you know, down in the hufflepuff common room Cedric was smiling into his pillow as he drifted off into dreams, picturing the perfect date the two of you would share. He decided, maybe Astronomy was his favourite subject too.

[writing-in-april]

Unintentionally Unrequited

Lesley Smith-Juniment x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: Reader tries to hold back their love for Lesley while he’s still reeling from his broken engagement.

A/N: Hey Heyyy!!!! This is my first fic for Lesley guys!!! It’s also my twenty-fourth fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April! It’s based on this request- I had a lot of fun with it!!! (Hope I got his character right 🤞) Lol low key I might have been projecting my love of the cold in the first paragraph- im sorry to all my warm weather lovers!!! 😂 Feel free to leave an ask here (I promise I don’t bite, I swear) Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy!

Warnings: I swear three times- that’s it 🥰

Main Masterlist Word Count: 1.5k

The sun beat down hard on me, making my eyes squint and my skin hotter than I would have liked. Normally I would have been wallowing in misery as I thrived in the cold, even though I lived in Texas. That’s where my job was and that’s where Lesley was, so I swallowed up my complaints, especially now.

Lesley was grabbing our drinks, which was more of a challenge than I expected. I watched him stumble about a million times in his closed toed Birkenstocks he still insisted on wearing, kicking up streams of sand while the concession worker snickered. Instead of laughing like most I smiled brightly, finding it incredibly endearing rather than using it as a reason to make fun of him. I may have not found his closed toed Birkenstocks very fashionable, but he loved them, and I loved him.

I could only say that in my head though, he was still unequivocally in love with Summer- even though she had stomped on his heart. He had thought he found love and watched it cruelly be ripped away from him when Summer broke off their engagement. Normally with whirlwind engagements it was expected that they wouldn’t last. But, with Lesley and Summer I had really thought that they would stand the test of time. I loved him too much to break the fragile happiness he had, though it turns out someone was going to do it for me anyway.

Lesley was still holding a torch for her, I could tell by the way he got a little melancholic sometimes when he talked to me. I did my best to get his mind off of it, that’s why we were here, on this unremarkable beach.

I was glad I at least did something good when I whisked him away to the beach for a while so he wouldn’t have to see Summer or be reminded of her. I knew that eventually we’d have to go back, but it was nice to pretend in this utopia I had crafted for us for the time being, even if the beach was slightly shitty. And, I meant that literally; there was tons of uncleared bird poop everywhere. We had to find a specific spot that was somewhat secluded to find a spot not covered in it.

When he came back with our drinks, it was a little more graceful than the first time, though the worker still laughed when his back was turned, which earned him a glare from me. As we sipped on our slushies while sitting on a rickety bench by the beach, I contemplated everything that had happened in recent months. I had been by his side through it all, mostly with my eyes blown wide at how ridiculous it all was.

Six months ago we had been very different people, sure we had the same personalities and acted relatively the same. But, our experiences over the last months have changed us into different people. I still knew Lesley, better than anyone, and certainly better than Summer claimed.

It was getting too difficult to keep trapped up inside anymore, each day I chose to say nothing made it even more painful. I sucked on my staw, trying to keep it bottled up, keeping it down by the colorful ice that tasted artificially sweet. It felt like I was choking on the love, it wanted to spill out and compel me to confess even though I didn’t want to.

Before I even knew what I was saying it started to tumble out, bubbling up to the surface getting ready to explode any friendship Lesley and I had,

“I know you never will feel the same way, but I have to tell you this,” He cocked his head to the side in question, not expecting what was about to come out of my mouth next, “I love you.”

His mind had obviously short circuited going by the look on his face, jaw dropped open, eyes blown wide, and fingers shaking in shock. It took him a minute to process, frozen in the same place trying to understand what I had just said.

Not long ago he had made the same confession to someone that ultimately ended up leaving him heartbroken. I was afraid I was due for my own dose of unrequited love.

His body must have caught up with his mind as he stood up, knocking over his red colored slushy in the process, staining the sand. He was rubbing the front of his khaki shorts in panic, I grabbed them without thinking; he could hate me now and never want to touch me again.

However, he did not pull away from me, in fact he gripped my hands in a tighter hold while he also squeezed his eyes shut a few times. I opened my mouth to say something, but found myself completely choked up at Lesley’s own admission, “I love you too.”

“I thought you still loved Summer?” Tears were falling down my face, but each drop was quickly brushed to the side by my hands, not wanting to have Lesley see me cry. I had thought Summer had meant the world to him, the way he looked at her made me think that he’d never look at me the same way. I had never even thought to turn around and see if he was looking at me in the first place.

“No, I don’t she was- Never mind it doesn’t even matter. All that matters is that I love you- it’s always been you. You’re the only person who really knows me, really sees me for me.” His hands enveloped my cheeks with cold from him holding the slushy cup while he said his own confession, much more wordy than my own. With his confession heat began to bloom in my cheeks, warming up his cold hands. They were warming up from sheer embarrassment rather than the sun that was still beating down on us overhead. It seemed so silly now, to keep my love for him secret while he walked into a romance his heart wasn’t fully in.

“I’m sorry.” I meekly whispered, dipping my head down in shame.

“Why are you sorry?”

“Because I didn’t tell you…” He then tipped my head up to look at him with confidence I didn’t often see from him.

“You told me now and- that’s all that matters.” Bridging the gap that had slowly been decreasing between the two of us, surprisingly he initiated the kiss.

His lips tasted like the cherry slushy he had been drinking, mixed with the blue raspberry one I had been downing. It was a sugary sweet combo almost sickly, but all I wanted was more. I had deprived myself of the sugar I had been pining for, for so long, I didn’t care if it was somewhat overwhelming to my taste buds.

We had both been idiots, colossal idiots for not getting the nerve to open our mouths and speak up to one another. Though maybe I was the bigger idiot because I had watched him pretend to love someone else, not noticing all the looks he had probably thrown my way. I had been so convinced that he would never love me back that I let the sweetness of him be used by someone else, even though it was always meant for me. Running my fingers through his hair I pulled him even closer to me, touching him without pause or thought of the repercussions. It felt good to be free, like I was flying high up above the clouds unrestricted by my own self doubting thoughts that always tried to sabotage me.

Lesley had been kissing me back with the same amount of force as I was, not a shred of hesitation in sight as he sucked on my bottom lip. Unfortunately I had to let him go when I noticed the concession’s vendor eyeing the two of us while eating a bag of peanuts. Glaring hard again at the man I then refocused onto Lesley, and I never wanted to stop looking. He seemed disappointed at first when we seperated; he had tried to chase my lips as if that would be his first and only taste. I gave him a quick kiss on the tip of his button nose, another taste of the affection he’d be treated to as long as he’d let me give it to him. Speaking softly I then expanded on my confession from earlier, “I promise there’ll be more where that came from- I love you and I never want to let you go.”

He looked down at our intertwined fingers still with shock, he brought them up to his lips, giving his own affection to the tops of my hands with two sweet pecks. “I love you too.” He then mumbled into our palms, giving them one last peck before releasing them.

Tugging his hands I then walked backwards towards our shitty hotel rooms that matched the shitty beach, though I wouldn’t be separating from him once we reached mine. “Come on let’s go.” I said with another tug before breaking out into a run with him right behind, ready to start our adventure of requited love.

Ask Me Anything

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[misscorn]

Day 7: Future/Post Confession

I can't believe yet another @takaritsuweek has come and gone so fast 😭❤ everyone in this Fandom is so talented and im obsessed with the nostalgia content 💘 please enjoy my last one shot for this week ☺

***

Onodera Ritsu was being weird, which could only mean one thing: something was wrong and he wasn't talking to Masamune about it.

Masamune had really hoped that things would go smoother after Ritsu confessed, but that was foolish. Masamune was so, undeniably happy, but they weren't perfect people. Both of them still had things to work on, separately and together. One of those things was more readily relying on one another. So, Masamune was determined to find out what was wrong.

Ritsu just seemed a lot more...spacey than usual. And anxious. And maybe a little gloomy? Masamune couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he knew that he didn't like it.

Currently, Ritsu was over at Masamune's apartment, helping to clean up the dishes as the two of them had just finished dinner. Ritsu was at Masamune's place quite frequently and Masamune always brought up the idea of moving in together, but Ritsu hadn't quite come around to it yet, mostly because he knew for a fact that it would affect any work the two of them brought home. Masamune got...distracted easily and Ritsu tended to get swept away. So, for now Ritsu was content with a lot of sleepovers.

Once they finished cleaning, Masamune led Ritsu into the living room by his hand. He sat down unceremoniously on the couch before pulling Ritsu down with him and on to his lap, making Ritsu's face burn red.

I kind of hope he never gets used to this, Masamune thought, loving the sight of Ritsu's adorably embarrassed expression.

"What do you think you're doing?" Ritsu asked, trying to sound scolding, but he only succeeded in sounding nervous.

Masamune wrapped his arms around Ritsu's waist. "I just want to talk and I figured if I have you like this you won't be able to run away." Like how you love to do.

Ritsu couldn't even argue against that logic, but he made a displeased face anyway. "Fine. What is it?"

"Is everything okay with you?" Masamune asked.

"Huh? Yeah, I'm fine." Ritsu said dismissively.

"You just seem like you've had something on your mind lately." Masamune said. "Making me worried."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you." Ritsu apologized immediately.

"Don't say sorry, there's nothing to be sorry for, I just wanna know if there's something going on." Masamune said, trying to sound reassuring.

Ritsu chewed on his lower lip nervously before he spoke again. "I guess I have been thinking a bit..." He started vaguely.

"What about?" Masamune pressed gently.

"Well, my mom's gotten off my back about An-chan, but not about settling down. She's been trying to set up matchmaking sessions, introducing me to daughters of friends of hers whenever I visit, sending me info about singles events." Ritsu tried not to cringe at the thought of going to one of those. "And I just...I think maybe it's time I tell my parents about you. About us." Ritsu said. "I mean, I know we only started officially d-dating not too long ago, but I feel like we're both kind of in this for the long haul." He laughed nervously. They've both been in this for the past ten years, after all. It was hardly too soon to let his parents be in the know. "So, um, it seems only right to tell them..."

"If you want to tell them then you should." Masamune said.

"You make things sound so simple." Ritsu sighed. "It could go really, really wrong, you know?"

"I know. But the other option is keeping it a secret forever. Which, you can if you want, but it might be difficult to eventually explain to your parents when they visit why you have a longterm male roommate and you both wear matching wedding rings and share a room and take care of a little girl who calls both of you dad."

Ritsu's face flushed at Masamune projection of their future together, his heartbeat picking up in pace. "You want to have a daughter?"

"Someday, I think it'd be nice. But we're not even past the step of me meeting your parents, so I don't think they're going to get grandchildren anytime soon." Masamune planted a quick kiss on Ritsu’s shoulder.

"W-Wait, meeting?! I was just going to tell them, I didn't plan on having you meet them yet!" Ritsu said quickly.

"Ritsu, this is your mom we're talking about. If you tell her I exist she will track me down and interrogate the hell out of me whether you want her to or not." Masamune deadpanned.

Ritsu groaned and slumped against Masamume, knowing that he was right. "Maybe I should just test the waters first? It doesn't seem fair to throw all of us in at once."

Masamune hesitated to agree, subconsciously playing with Ritsu's hair. "I want to be there." He said firmly. "I understand you're worried, but like you said, things could go wrong and I want to be there for you if they do."

"You're only one door away." Ritsu said.

"Too far." Masamune insisted, pressing a kiss to Ritsu's forehead.

Ritsu rolled his eyes, trying hard not to smile. "You're absolutely ridiculous."

"Mhm. Besides, I can't charm the hell out of your parents if I'm busy next door worrying about you."

"Oh, is that your plan? To be all cool and suave until they can't possibly reject our relationship?" Ritsu asked sarcastically.

"Yes, exactly."

Ritsu shook his head before he refocused and took a deep breath. "How's this weekend?"

"I can do this weekend." Masamune said.

"I'll invite them to my place for dinner and hopefully it will be totally boring and uneventful and they won't care about us being together at all."

"Yeah, the woman who has hounded you about marriage for over ten years is going to not care about you being in a romantic relationship." Masamune said sarcastically.

Ritsu groaned loudly.

Masamune chuckled. "What about your dad? How do you think he'll react?"

"No idea, which is honestly worse."

"We'll handle it." Masamune promised and sealed it with a kiss.

-

"I can't do this, I think I should call them and cancel, tell them I'm sick." Ritsu said as he and Masamune cooked dinner together. Technically it wouldn't be a lie since Ritsu was feeling pretty nauseous.

Ritsu had spent all day yesterday making sure his apartment was spotless and then earlier today he and Masamune had gone grocery shopping together since Ritsu’s options for dinner had been a little slim.

"Oh, yeah, tell your mom that you're sick, I'm sure that will make her stay away instead of making her want to come over more." Masamune said sarcastically.

"You're no help."

"I thought I was being a lot of help, unless you wanna cut the onions." Masamune said, not looking up from the cutting board where he was working on the veggies.

Ritsu huffed and turned away to sit at the kitchen table, putting his head in his hands. He couldn't do this, he was such an idiot for ever thinking that he could. Introducing his parents to Masamune? He had never even mentioned liking men to them! And now suddenly he was going to announce that he had a boyfriend! There was only one way this could go: badly.

"Hey," Masamune said softly, abandoning his cutting station to sit next to him. "Its gonna be okay."

"You don't know that."

"I know, and honestly I'm kind of freaking out too. I don't think there's anything that could prepare me for meeting your parents. I want them to like me, I want them to think I'm a good fit for you because I know they're always going to be a big part of your life. Even if they can be a little overbearing, they love you, and it would kind of really suck if the people who loved you the most hated me." Masamune said. "But, either way I know that no matter what happens we'll still be together and for me that's enough." Masamune placed a comforting hand on Ritsu's knee.

"Even if my mom spends every single family gathering trying to drive you away? Even if she keeps trying to set me up on blind dates? Or, worse, tries to convince my dad to mess with your work?"

"Ritsu, the only thing your mom could do to keep me away from you is put out a hit on me."

"Don't joke about that."

"Oh come on, your parents don't have that many connections." Masamune said. "...right?"

"I really couldn't tell you."

"Jesus Christ." Masamune said, breathing through a laugh. "Look, the point is; we're gonna be okay."

Ritsu placed his hand on top of Masamune's and gave it a squeeze as he slowly nodded. "Okay...okay." He said. "Let's hurry and finish dinner then. My mom likes to get places early."

Masamune smiled softly and stole a swift kiss before happily helping Ritsu in the kitchen once more.

Eventually, there came a knock at the door. "I'll keep an eye on the food while you go get it." Masamune said. Dinner was just nearly done.

Ritsu swallowed hard and nodded, turning to leave the kitchen.

"Wait." Masamune grabbed his hand and kissed him quickly. "For good luck." He winked.

"Y-You're such an idiot." Ritsu scolded before quickly going to the front door and opening it.

Youko and Tatsuo Onodera stood side by side at Ritsu's door. Youko broke out into a smile and threw her arms around Ritsu before anyone could get a word out.

"H-Hi, mom." Ritsu smiled nervously as he hugged her back. "Hi, dad." He said to Tatsuo over Youko's shoulder as he was still being tightly squeezed.

"You feel skinny." Youko said as soon as she pulled away, pouting at her son. Ritsu was not surprised to be scolded instead of greeted, but he knew his mother meant well.

"Well, its a good thing I've invited you over to eat then. Come in." Ritsu said with a sheepish expression, attempting to play it off.

"It smells good." Tatsuo said.

"Ritsu, don't tell me you've left the food unattended for long." Youko said worriedly as they shuffled toward the kitchen.

"No." Ritsu's hands started to shake. "The foods being watched. Right now. B-by my b-boyfriend."

""Boyfriend?!"" Both Youko and Tatsuo exclaimed.

"How long has this been a thing?" Tatsuo asked.

"Oh...ten years or so..."

"Ten YEARS?!" Youko had heard enough, marching into the kitchen with her husband and son following not far behind.

"M-Mom, wait, maybe we should talk a little more-"

"You." Youko pointed accusingly at Masamune. "Are you my son's so called partner?"

"I am. My name is Takano Masamune, it's nice to-"

"Takano? I'm not familiar with that name. What's your family background?" Youko interrupted.

Masamune blinked, glancing between Ritsu and his parents, a little confused by the question. "Uh, my mother is a lawyer and my step father is a doctor, but I'm not on speaking terms with either of them."

"A boy with a troubled family history? Hardly seems like a good choice for a partner." Youko commented to Ritsu.

"Mother! That's incredibly rude!" Ritsu defended Masamune immediately. What was she even going on about?

"What do you do for a living?" Youko asked Masamune.

Masamune played along with her questions as he didn't know what else to do. "I'm the editor in chief for Marukawa Publishing's shoujo manga department: Emerald."

"Emerald? Onodera Ritsu, do you mean to tell me that you are dating your boss?" Youko said, putting her hands on her hips.

"I've heard about the great things you've done for Emerald, Takano." Tatsuo admitted. "But it does seem to be a conflict of interest to be dating a subordinate."

"I've been in love with him since I was twelve! Way before he ever became my boss!" Ritsu said quickly before a realization dawned on him. "Wait...these are the things you're upset about? His family and his job?"

"They're very important things to consider when picking a partner, Ritsu." Youko said. "You know, if you had told me that you were rejecting all those lovely girls because they were girls I could have been setting you up with perfectly charming and handsome men!" Youko pouted.

Ritsu wanted to laugh. And cry. And hug his mom and kiss Masamune and melt into the floor in total relief.

"I'm sorry, but I'll have to object to any matchmaking sessions." Masamune jumped in.

Youko frowned sternly at him. "Just what exactly makes you worthy of my one and only son?"

"I know I'm not the kind of person that you would normally want for Ritsu, but I love him. I've loved him for over ten years and there's nothing that could ever stop me from loving him. I will always, always take care of him and make him happy and if there ever comes a day that I don't then please feel free to come back and snatch him away from me because just like you I think Ritsu only deserves the best. I will always be loyal, reliable, and honest with him. And, if you'd still like to join us for dinner, I can show you that I'm not completely useless around a kitchen."

Youko did not move, nor did her disapproving expression melt away, but Tatsuo stepped forward to put a hand on his wife's shoulder.

"So, ten years huh? That's a long time. Why don't you tell us how this all started?" He smiled as he ushered his wife to sit down.

Ritsu beamed, tearing up a bit.

"Well, I was in our school's library..."

[wisteria-lodge]

exploded bird + lion secondary (badger model)

Good afternoon Wisteria! I was hoping for your input with my sorting. This MAY become a novel, and i apologize ahead of time for that. Hopefully its interesting, if nothing else.

I am having trouble with both my primary and secondary. Ive thought i had it figured out so many times and then i would reanalyze myself and get confused. So i guess ill start with primaries. I can tell you for sure that i am not a snake primary. I just cant love another person quite like that. I grew up in a very snake primary environment and never felt i really fit in. I really appreciate snakes and i understand them, but i dont think i am one. I also very much pride myself on my individuality and dont bond to groups so i believe that may rule out badger. I think ive narrowed it down to exploded bird or really confused lion.

Interesting. So far so good. Let’s hear what you’ve got.

Right now in life, with all the information coming at me, all the data, all of the twists and turns, media bias, conspiracy theories, rabbit holes and objective realities, i cant figure out the truth.

… sounds like an Exploded Bird to me.

I think all theories are worth investigating and rabbit holes are fun. But i hate hypocrisy. And its everywhere.

I mean, everyone hates hypocrisy… but I think Birds find it *unforgivable.*

I cant organize all of this information.

Exploded Bird.

Dude. Whats gonna happen if deep fake becomes the norm?

eh, Photoshop has been the norm for a long time and we do okay. Some fakes have always been better than others, and there have always been fakes.

I feel like the safest thing to do is to fully understand myself. Then i can analyze and understand the world.

I would agree with that.

I would say that hands down i was an exploded bird, but i feel very strongly about things right away. But then i learn about them more and if my feelings were wrong, ok. Whatever.

This is still Bird. It’s not that Birds can’t feel strongly about things right away. They do, they just don’t feel safe TRUSTING those feelings. Instead they do… exactly what you’re describing here. Learn more, and then if it turns out their initial feelings were wrong… that’s fine, actually. The feelings are of secondary importance.

BUT i also WANT black and white. I want right and wrong. Grey, though necessary and true, bugs me.

… there’s a reason why I call young Birds Black-and-White Birds.

Deep down i crave to just understand something as it is. But one persons truth is not anothers. I get that. But it still bothers me in my bones.

That’s a very Bird primary angst. Birds can have this *fantasy* that if only everyone had all the information and thought it though properly, that everyone would come to the same (correct) conclusion. And then have to grapple with the fallout when they realize things don’t work that way. As a Lion… I’ve never had to fight that particular monster.

I can also seem like i make snap decisions based on feelings to others, but i just know what i want. If something sounds good, i want to do it. At that moment. No hesitation… i think im meshing into secondary territory here

I agree. Improvisational secondary, sounds like.

so ill just go with it. So my bedroom walls are lilac purple and my kitchen is BRIGHT yellow, because those colors sounded interesting. At that moment. I tend to jump into a project having no idea what im doing. I just thought it sounded like fun.

Comfortable making decisions on a whim, just jumping in. Very improvisational.

But thats not really a way to problem solve. When i start said project and then run into a problem, usually ill read about it, or ask someone who knows more than me. The “i know a guy” bird kind of applies here. I know how to make connections within my community and i plan for that. I think about who would be useful to know, based on my goals.

You know, this could be Bird. But I’m kind of skewing more Badger because of the emphasis on community and asking for help. And keeping an eye on ‘who is powerful, who is useful to know’ is a pretty common Badger secondary model manifestation.

But i dont think i build tools like a bird. In fact, binge watching videos on how to do something annoys me. Takes all the fun out of it.

I still think you’re an Improvisational secondary - and a Badger secondary model is *more* likely than a Bird secondary model.

I am always honest with people and i like that about me, but its not out of some need to stay true to myself. Its just because i have learned that honesty works the best most of the time.

So not Lion *primary* then. This is all about method. You don’t lie, because you don’t find it to be a very practical problem-solving method. Being very direct does work, so at this point… Lion is more likely than snake.

Now, dont get me wrong, i am an excellent liar. But only if its on the fly.

Hmm. Maybe a Snake who’s in neutral all the time?

This conflicts big time with my primary, however, so i rarely ever do.

Interesting. Lying conflicts with your (hypocrisy hating) Bird primary, so you don’t do it. Instead you are very direct, and that works well for you. You *can* lie (on the fly) but you generally don’t. Neutral Snake? Snake secondary model? Depending on how you define lying, could even be Courtier Badger. (I am ruling out constructed Actor Bird.)

I feel like ive gone all over the place in a highly disorganized way, so i will state that now i am going to give some anecdotal data. One time, as an adult, i was hanging out with a bunch of kids on a hayride. A little boy killed a butterfly. I was outraged. I called him out. I told him that he just took away the only life that creature would ever have and that was cruel.

Very loud Idealist primary.

This somehow turned into a question and answer school session about human biology, mammals and why on earth is water in a cup clear, but when you dive into the ocean, its blue?

Some kind of social secondary… and I know the obvious thing is to say 'trotting out a lot of facts, that’s bird.’ But I’m seeing you defuse a situation by leveraging your immediate community (Q&A session)? Badger.

I like being the person that gets the scary bugs out of the house because i feel brave when i do.

Sounds pretty Lion secondary.

When in an emergency situation i completely disconnect and become a calm, knowledgeable person.

This is actually a pretty common just, human thing. When things get bad enough, your lizard brain takes over, and everything is very calm and dreamlike.

I suddenly magically know what needs to be done and work with my environment.

Improvisational secondary.

Im also very aware of how everyone else is doing in that situation and i have an innate need to make people feel better so im usually the first to lighten the mood. Ill focus on others before myself if im hurt. Im more aware of how they are doing than how i am doing and i will make an effort to help them first.

Ah yes, the 'tend and befriend’ threat response. Very familiar. And yeah, going from this description I’m going to say very social badger.

In video games… skyrim is best here i think. I want to be a sneaky mage thief. But when something attacks me, without thinking i run right up to it and hit it with my fists without armor.

lol lion. (The classic Badger secondary strategy is BUFF ARMOR. I always play tanks.)

But i get really sad if its an animal.Those wolf whimpers get to me every time.

No one likes the wolf whimpers.

Ok. Ok. Ive rambled enough. Thank you for reading! Any input is greatly appreciated! Thank you!

Exploded Bird, easy. And probably a Lion secondary with a very social Badger secondary model that’s working well for you.

[missyoumaybank]

Summer days-r.p

In which friends become lovers because of a bikini

requested; Yes!

warnings- alcohol, light smut(if you squint) 

Word count;1.3k

It was a regular day for the outer banks cast in Charleston, deciding to head to the coast to bask in the shining rays. The cast were all sat around in a circle, laughing at the stupidity from one another.

‘’But listen yeah, would I not be time travelling if I travel to a place that is behind a few hours than we are?’’ Drew exclaimed, full of confidence. You tried your hardest to hold in your giggles, but you could not contain them, a wheeze escaping your mouth which resulted in everyone laughing at you.

The outer banks cast were basically your second family, in such a short space of time, you all clicked and got a long so well. Especially with Rudy. There was something about Rudy that just made him stand out to you and it was the same case for you. Despite the obvious chemistry you had on screen with him, there was some not so obvious chemistry between you and him. Well, not obvious to you or him, but sickeningly obvious to the cast.

There were many moments between the pair of you that made you question was he more than a best friend to you, and you were scared. Scared of change and the baggage that would follow through.

Hence, being friends, it still did not stop you from wanting to be ‘Risqué’ as on may say. The last cast night out, the boys talked about their favourite types of bikini’s and although you were out of it, Rudy’s answer stuck with you. You of course, being the nice girl, you are, bought a new bikini for today and made sure it was one that Rudy would like. You were finally done hiding your feelings and you wanted him to know.

It started getting warmer that moment and you felt it was a good time to begin. Grasping the end of your hoodie, you pulled it over your head, placing it in the sand next to you. That very second, you could feel his eyes on you, and you loved it. The red lacy fabric rested amongst your sallow skin, accentuating the outline of your breasts, which Rudy could not take his eyes off. The look on his face was all too familiar to you, knowing full well he was undressing you with his eyes

You heard cat calls as you finally stripped off. Your face reddened, but you caught sight of the devious smirk on his Sunkissed face. ‘’See something you like Rudes’’ JD shouted, gaining the attention of others as Rudy groaned, punching the idiot beside him. From then, you knew it was going to be a long day ahead of you.

The rest disappeared into the ocean or bathed in the scorching heat. You laid on your towel, close enough to Rudy. As a thought popped into your mind, you asked to put sunscreen on your back. He agreed with no hesitation, grabbing the chance to feel you somewhat. ‘’Can you untie the knot at the back please’’ you smirked, feeling him tense up at the question. ‘’Sure thing, doll’’ grasping at the knot and taking his time pulling it. His bare hands spread the cold lotion over your back, shivering at his touch, you leaned back into him wanting more. He caught the message and began messaging the liquid on you. You whimpered at his actions, a wetness pooling between your legs. You did not know if you could keep this game up anymore.

 As his hands made his way up to your shoulders, he pulled you into him, resting between his legs, his hand lightly grasping your throat. A light moan escaped from your lips, the grip tightening. ‘’What are you doing, darling?’’ he demanded, sick of the teasing. As you saw the others come into view, the grip disappeared and you almost whimpered, feeling the loss of touch. You left his embrace, getting up slowly and making sure you bent upwards in his face.

He grunted at the sight, feeling the growth in his shorts. He wanted you there and then, but he knew he could not have you.

As the night progressed, you began to let loose, feeling the effects from the alcohol and the joints from earlier. The ocean breeze brushed against you, shivering at the feeling. You felt a nudge, looking over to see Rudy handing you his hoodie. You began to protest but he quietened you, claiming that he felt like a ‘radiator’. After a while, the conversation began to die, and it became quiet between all of you. Until Chase suggest you play ‘Truth or Dare’. You hummed in agreement, wanting to distract yourself from Mr. Pankow, who was tracing patterns amongst your thigh.

The questions started out simple, getting the flow through. As it was your turn, you picked dare, feeling spontaneous. Drew began giggling, having a dare in mind and projected his idea to Austin and Madelyn, nodding in agreement.

‘’Give our dear best friend Rudy a hickey’’ They laughed, knowing you’d feel embarrassed. You rolled your eyes but decided to go along with it. You gazed at Rudy, silently asking him if he was okay with this. He nodded at you with hungry eyes, wanting to hold you again.

His hands rested on your hips, as you straddled him, legs on either side of him. Your breath hitched as you leaned into the crook of his neck. Kissing softly among the neck that represented a blank canvas, you began sucking on his skin, smoothing it with your tongue. Feeling a stiffness beneath you, you grinded slowly on his crotch, nipping at the skin. He mewled softly, as his heart raced because of the girl in his lap.

You pulled away, observing your work of art. Hickeys began forming fast on the neck and it was visible that you left them in multiple places. The others laughed at the boy, who had significantly been silent since you left his embrace. He turned to you, grabbing your hand, and pulled you up, dragging you in the direction of the beach house you were living in.

Slamming the door behind him, he walked you back near the wall tauntingly, desire in his eyes. ‘’You think I don’t notice baby girl’’ He pulled back, tilting his head downwards ‘’The teasing and everything’’ He whispered, slowly turning you around. You leaned against the wall, not knowing was going to happen. Suddenly, you felt a sharp sting as he spanked you. As you whimpered, he slapped your ass again, with more force. ‘’You should learn to behave’’

He spun you around and pressed his lips against yours passionately. Immediately throwing your arms around his neck, you kissed him back with as much energy, moaning as he grabbed your ass. ‘’I’ve wanted this for so long’’ she moaned against his lips, tugging at the ends of his hair.  ‘’You have no idea angel’’ he mumbled, disconnecting his lips from yours.

‘’Jump’’ he demanded, grabbing her by the thighs and bringing her to his bedroom. Placing her down on the bed, she flipped them over, dominating him. She grinded gently amongst his crotch, building further tension between them. ‘’Please do something baby’’ he whined, wanting to be inside her. The blonde’s hands found your waist, guiding her against his lower region. ‘’Can I take this off?’’ he whispered, eyes focused on the bikini that’s been taunting him all day, reading your facial expression to make sure you weren’t overwhelmed.

You nodded hesitantly, not noticing you crossed your arms protectively over your chest,beginning to realise what was happening right now. Rudy caught on and sat up against the headboard, slowing his actions and wanting to comfort you. ‘’We don’t have to do anything’’ He reassured, not wanting to pressure you into anything. You leaned down and kissed him slowly, your heart hammering in your chest.  

‘’I’ll do anything if it means being with you’’

 And after that, the night was full of bliss and pleasure, and you finally had Rudy Pankow by your side.

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hello quick side note this was meant to be a smut and i got scared in case id mess it up  but anyWAYS pls give feedback pls n thank u x also this is my first piece in over a year iM SCARED

[too-gay-for-marvel]

a special card

a/n: listen,,,,,,,,, i know i promise this every time i finish something, but i swear im not dead. im just a simple bean trying to be an adult. and ive got the Big Sad. but im doin my best and yall will love me anyway ✌😎

Word Count: 1675

Warnings: none? i think?

Pairing: CarolNat x Reader (focus on Nat x Reader)

(pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4)

Unlike Carol, Natasha didn’t wait until the evening to show up. No, she showed up in the middle of the day, right around when your lunch break should have started. If you had known, you wouldn’t have even shown up to work. No, that was a lie, you absolutely would have still shown up to work.

It had already been an abnormal day; you had woken up late thanks to a certain blonde that had kept you up far too long. You had rushed through your shower, your coffee, and had gotten to work late. Now, your boss hadn’t cared. Hell, he had been borderline ecstatic that you had finally showed up past your usual punctual arrival.

“Hope this means you lived a little,” he had said when you showed up an outrageous 23 minutes late. His stupid smug face made you sick.

“Won’t happen again,” you mumbled and, even though you knew he had heard you, he ignored it.

Aside from your boss giving you a stupid little smirk every now and then, work was normal. You were behind, but you decided you could just move your schedule back by 23 minutes. It would ruin everything, but it was something you could live with for the day. Maybe. You would try, at least.

You blasted your music and put yourself into high gear, trying to get a blueprint finished before lunch so you could get back on track. But of course you didn’t, because for the first time in a very long time, your mind wouldn’t shut up. It just had to remind you of the reason behind your embarrassingly strict schedule.

And when lunch came around, you decided to work through it. It wasn’t like you were really in the mood to eat anyway, not with the graphic images running through your head. Besides, if you worked through lunch then you could be back on track for the afternoon. Seemed like a win-win, actually.

“Have time for a break?”

Of course. Of course there was the distraction. There was always a distraction. You put your carving knife down and turned your head enough to see Natasha walking toward you, a take-out bag in one hand and an envelope in the other. You suspected something, as you should. But that stupid smirk was enough to convince you to hear her out.

“No,” you said simply, turning back to your project before waiting for her answer. You were in the mood to be problematic. As you rightfully should be.

“Too late, your boss said you needed one,” she said before immediately setting the take-out bag on your project.

“Carol said you needed a distraction,” Natasha continued as if she hadn’t noticed you rush to lift the bag off your project in the hopes it hadn’t gotten any condensation or… unsightly liquids on the wood.

“Said you seemed a little stressed.” With that, she sat down in your chair and propped her feet up on the same project you had just cleaned.

“I’m not stressed,” you shook your head. “Just busy,” you emphasised by pushing her feet off the wood.

“Has anyone ever told you you work too much?” She asked. She leaned forward and rested her arms on your project - had she no shame? - before giving you another stupid smirk. Did she ever stop? Smirking that much just wasn’t natural.

“No.”

You didn’t look up. You refused to look up only to see that look that you knew she was giving you. It was the same look Carol gave you when you wouldn’t ease up on your schedule. The look Daniel gave you when you hesitated to take the kids on short notice. The look your mother gave you when she felt you were being ridiculous and needed to loosen up. All of those looks had one thing in common.

Pity.

And you hated pity.

“You need to eat,” Natasha said, far softer than you had thought her capable of. That too-confident attitude had disappeared and she looked… mundane. You didn’t think it was possible.

“I don’t need to eat,” you shot back regardless of how normal she looked. Just because she was a mob boss didn’t mean she could boss you around.

“Yes you do.”

“I don’t.”

“Y/N.”

“Natasha.”

You both locked eyes, and you could see the way hers sparkled; not with frustration, but pride. Logically eyes didn’t sparkle with anything really (unless it was the glitter from Dillon’s drawings) but you could tell. There was a slight squint at the corner of her eyes and you had known her long enough to know what that meant.

It meant she was proud.

Screw her pride.

“I’ll put it in the fridge for later,” she finally said, breaking eye contact as she did it. “Don’t forget it.”

It was a stern warning, but the fact that she hadn’t added an actual “or else” meant that nothing was going to happen. You knew it, she knew it, it was an empty threat. But you almost appreciated her attempt at taking care of you. As well as a mob boss could, you supposed.

The moment she was out of your work space, you focused back in on the project in front of you. With absolute surprise, you could finally focus. You were getting things done and, even though Nat was back within two minutes, you had actually made some progress. Maybe it was because Nat had come to see you.

Why the fuck would that matter?

“We got you a card,” Nat said as soon as she got back.

You looked up to see her holding the envelope she had walked in with. You brushed the splinters off your hands - even though you should have been wearing gloves - before taking the envelope from her slender fingers that you knew had pulled the trigger more times than you cared to accept.

They hadn’t closed it properly. Part of you wanted to scold them for it, but the other part was glad you wouldn’t have to rip it open and ruin your always-put-together demeanour. Obviously you could open it properly at home, but you weren’t at home, were you?

It was a simple card. A few flowers on the front, some pink some white. It was pretty cheesy if you were being honest with yourself. But then on the inside is where it got good. There were more of the same flowers, but they were underlining the two sentences in the middle of the card.

“We fucked up. So we’re really really sorry.”

When you looked closer, you noted that the original card had said “I fucked up,” but the “I”s had been scribbled out and replaced with the “we”s. Then below the flowers, in surprisingly childlike handwriting, was Nat’s and Carol’s names.

“Have you two… ever signed a card before?” You hesitated to ask, but only after seeing the uncertainty on Nat’s face.

“Why do you ask?”

“It’s just… you…” but the look on her face was enough to get you to sigh and smile softly to yourself. “It’s a really good card.”

That smirk of hers was back as she leaned in her chair and propped her feet up onto your project again. If she didn’t stop, there were going to be consequences. In theory, of course. You were never really one to break the rules at work.

Okay, you were one to never break the rules at work.

You were still mesmerised - whether in a good way or bad way, you couldn’t quite tell just yet - by the card when you finally noticed a pair of arms wrapping around your middle. You knew it wasn’t your boss. Even though he was overly sweet, he wasn’t a perv.

Deductive reasoning aside, you would know her touch at any time.

“I heard Carol made it up to you,” Nat whispered in your ear. Well, as close to your ear as she could get. She was just a little too short to reach.

“No, I made it up to her,”  you shot back quickly, wanting to make it clear that Carol had not gotten the best of you. No one got the best of you.

“Mmm how about I make it up to you, then?”

Admittedly, you loved the tone in Nat’s voice. As much as you tried to tell yourself that you didn’t really feel anything for the couple, you did. You felt so much for the both of them that it hurt your heart. Literally. But you also knew you couldn’t let anyone get the best of you. Not even Nat.

“My boss is—”

“—goin home for the day!” He called out, and you immediately started questioning just how much he had eavesdropped. “Don’t forget to lock up!”

And with that he was gone. Almost like he had planned the whole thing. Maybe he had. Or maybe the woman behind you had been cunning enough to… “convince him” to leave for the day. Yeah, that was probably the more accurate option. You could live with that.

But you couldn’t live with Nat thinking she had the upper hand.

he moment her hand started to move up your stomach, you grabbed one of her arms and used it to pull her between yourself and your project. One of the benefits of being bigger than her; you could manhandle her all you wanted. And there was also the perk of her being shocked by your size every single time.

Nat knew better than to argue. In the real world around other people, she was the boss. But in this one room, away from prying eyes? Everything was different, she had no control and she knew it, and she loved it. So much so that she put up no fight when you lifted her onto your project and stepped between her legs. Nothing could fix that weekend, but maybe it could distract you just enough.

It was certainly enough to bury all your previous concerns of getting your project dirty.

[lunarmessenger]

hi!! i wonder if i could request a one shot angst with saeyoung. so mc have a huge anxiety and she always closed up everything even after she's with saeyoung. one day when saeyoung snapped at her out of stress, she end up missing for like around two weeks without any traces even saeran cant help saeyoung to find her

after searching for the whole times they end up finding out that mc got in accident and still in the hospital because her injuries was so bad and actually someone from rfa (u can choose who) try to hide this from saeyoung because mc told them everything

i know its quite hard im sorry 😭

ohohohoho anon you give me too much power for requesting an angsty prompt. i hope you enjoy, thank you so much for this request! I will have to split it into quite a few parts because otherwise...it’ll be much too long haha ^^;; - luna xx

p.s. sorry requests are taking so long!! the holidays have been insane, but i promise after christmas and new years i’ll go back to posting regularly!

warnings: graphic depictions of major injuries, mentions of hospitals, and mentions of mental illness.

word count: 1.9k

(pt. 2) (pt. 3) (pt. 4)

Hard Regrets (Pt. 1) - 707 x MC

Her nimble fingers switched on the heater as a cold chill ran through the house, hands reaching up to the small blanket she’d thrown over her shoulders. The soft patters of rain thumped against the roof of the apartment, the only sound competing with the rain being the soft clicks coming from Saeyoung’s computer and the flicker of paper as Saeran read through one of his many books.

She smiled fondly as Saeran’s eyes danced across each page, filling his mind with the story as he burrowed deeper into the couch. That smile faded as her eyes slowly switched to his brother, her boyfriend, the man hunched roughly over his desk as he typed furiously. Empty cans of soda and crinkled bags of honey buddha chips littered both his desk and his floor, causing her to sigh as she walked over to help clean up.

This project had ended up being one of his longer ones, tomorrow making it about two months since he was assigned the task by Jumin. She was used to seeing Jumin overwork Jaehee, but now that it was affecting Saeyoung the way it was...it made her anxious. Of course his exhaustion worried her, but he became much more irritable when he became fixated on an important project.

Within the past month he’d grown incredibly distant so that he wouldn’t have any sort of distractions, and that meant that she didn’t get to spend time with him as often as she wanted to. The last time she’d reached out to him he had glared at her, telling her that while yes, he loves you, he needed to finish this project.

“No distractions, MC.” She whispered softly under her breath, a reminder he himself had given her the last time she interrupted. All she’d wanted from him was a hug. She slowly approached, bare feet softly tapping against the wooden floors as she made her way over. She was a couple of feet away from him, stopping as she hesitated. Maybe coming up with some sort of excuse would help guide him away from his computer? It wouldn’t be seen as a distraction since it wasn’t selfish; more like a welfare check?

“Are you boys up for some tea?” Saeyoung didn’t move an inch, mumbling a rough no as he continued to type and click across the screen. She visibly deflated, the bags under her eyes from lack of sleep growing heavier from his rejection. He hadn’t even been sleeping in their bed lately; he would sleep right there, on that god damned desk of his. She was snapped out of her rejection at the sound of the couch cushions moving; Saeran gave a small smile as he book marked his page, placing the book on the coffee table as he stood.

“I would love some, MC. In fact, I’ll help you make it. Come on...” The soft tone of his voice was a nice contrast in comparison to the rough rudeness of Saeyoung, the weight on her chest slightly lifting as she walked with him into the kitchen. Saeran grabbed the tea leaves while MC weakly grabbed three glass mugs; despite Saeyoung saying he didn’t want any. She readied the kettle, pressing the on button and watching as the blue light illuminated the dim kitchen and the water slowly started to come to a boil.

“MC...I’m sorry that Saeyoung is...the way he is.” The sudden apology from Saeran made her eyes widen as she turned to look at him, parts of her long hair falling into her face as she cleared her throat.

“What? Oh, no I mean...I guess...” She tried to think of an excuse for him, tried to come up with reasons on why it didn’t bother her that he got so invested that he not only forgot about her and Saeran, but forgot to take care of himself. Her eyes grew hot with tears for a split second as she shook her head.

“I just, I don’t know what to do. I can’t be honest with him about anything, because the last time I tried he...” She started to visibly shake, the only thing keeping her together being the sudden tap of the kettle signaling the water was ready. When she’d interrupted him before he almost flipped the chair because he was so angry; her distraction had caused him to mistype due to ruining his focus; according to him.

The only people who knew how he was making her feel was Saeran and Zen; the thought of the two men’s kindness towards her when Saeyoung was the way he was when he was writing made a soft smile grace her exhausted face once again. Though she hated to admit it, sometimes she wondered why she had not moved on to either Saeran or Zen. Both men would treat her the way she deserved, and she knew that, really she did.

But Saeyoung...she just loved him so much.

The way he was when they first met; how he had tried so hard to push her away and he just couldn’t. Because he didn’t want to. She didn’t want him to either, and she stayed because she knew that he loved her. Something in him changed, she can’t really remember when it happened; it just did. When he got a new project it was like MC didn’t exist; and he acted like he didn’t treat her that way when it was finished. No matter how much she hated it, no matter how much it made her cry; she just couldn’t leave.

All because she loved him.

“MC...? Should we take these to the couch? Maybe I can read you a couple of chapters?” She was snapped back to attention by Saeran, giving a slight nod as he took two mugs and she carried the last one. The sweet smell of honey and chamomile filled her nose as she slowly walked over to Saeyoung’s desk, his body still in the same position she had left him.

“Saeyoung...” Her voice was soft as she tried not to startle him, her anxiety slowly building with the tension as Saeran noticed what she was doing.

“Wait, MC; maybe we should just leave the tea over here?” She paused furrowing her brows as she tilted her head and slightly turned towards him.

“Then how is he supposed to know we at least made him a cup?”

“MC—” She turned back around to continue walking when her foot caught on one of the empty cans, causing her to lose her balance as she let out a gasp.

“MC!” She tried to redirect the cup as it flew out of her hands, the hot tea splattering all over Saeyoung’s desk and computer. Her heart sank in her stomach as Saeran was instantly at her side, Saeyoung leaping from the hot temperature and the sparks that flew around his desktop as he yelled.

“Are you...are you kidding me? Are you fucking kidding me?!” His voice boomed throughout the apartment as he turned towards her, golden eyes filled with rage as he loomed over her. He was so angry that he hadn’t realized her hand was red from being burned; she’d managed to get most of the tea spilt on her in an attempt to salvage his tea. 

“Oh, MC...oh God you’re burned; we need to get you to a hospital.” Saeran helped her up but Saeyoung was quick to push them apart, getting in her face as he pointed at his desktop.

“Do you know how long it took me to figure that out, MC?! You’re so fucking lucky that I had a back up running at the same time because I swear to God...” His voice was low, teeth clenched and nose scrunched as he angrily glared at her. Saeran grabbed him by the hood, yanking him away from MC as she shook from his outburst. He has never physically grabbed her and yelled at her the way he just did.

She watched as the two brothers went head to head, noses almost touching as they screamed back and forth. It became too much for her as she got up, trying not to catch their attention as she slid on her shoes and slowly opened the door. The rain had started to come down harder, the wind howling as her loose bun instantly came undone and wildly blew her hair around her face.

She almost, almost second guessed her decision until the sound of glass breaking caught her attention, the mug of tea that was supposed to be hers now smashed in pieces by one of the walls. Saeyoung’s chest was heaving while Saeran got up from a squatted position; almost as if he’d dodged whatever Saeyoung threw.

 Those pieces mirrored her heart; that mug was one that Saeyoung had bought her when they had first started going out. A picture of a cat had been printed on it, the cat making a winking face as the phrase I meow you! cradled the toon cat. It was one of her many prized possessions, and he had smashed it like it meant nothing to him.

That finalized her decision.

“What, Saeran? Stay out of this!”

“Are you so damn selfish that you haven’t realized that your girlfriend has burned half of her body to try and save your desktop? We need to get her to a hospital! Now!” He quickly turned to where she was squatting down by the wall, pausing when he realized that she wasn’t there anymore.

“MC...?” Saeran’s brows furrowed as he walked down the hall, leaving Saeyoung to cool off as he looked back towards his computer. The monitor screens were black as the tea slowly seeped into his keyboard and monitors. The more anger that left his body the more he’d realized what he’d done, his body slowly going into shock as he stared at the broken mug on the ground. The pink heart was in pieces, the larger part covered in brown tea as Saeran’s voice slowly became white noise in the background.

What had he done?

This entire time he’d been an absolute shit to his girlfriend; the one person who had supported him from day one. He slowly shuffled over to the broken pieces, socks growing wet from the spilled tea as he picked up the pieces.

“What have I done...?”

“Saeyoung! Saeyoung she’s gone!” He slowly blinked, not even bothering to adjust his glasses and messy red hair in tussles as he put down the glass and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“What?”

“She’s gone! Her phone is on the coffee table, and she didn’t take her bag! Saeyoung we have to find her; there’s a storm outside and she’s by herself!” Saeran was rushing to put on his coat and grab an umbrella, his boots clunking against the floors as he grabbed Saeyoung’s shoulders.

“Saeyoung, if you love her, you need to get off your ass now and help me find her. Now!” He slapped his dumbfounded brother, forcing him on to his feet and throwing a coat at him as he grabbed one of the many car keys hanging from the key shelf. Reality sank in as he threw on his sneakers, grabbing a beanie from the coat rack and tossing it on. He felt his stomach churn as his hand brushed against her coat and scarf, grabbing the scarf she always wore and wrapping it around his neck.

We have to find her, we have to find her.

I have to find her.