#and it's always a nightmare logistically

[facewithoutheart]

Thanks for the tags @orange-peony, @fiend-for-culture & @best--dress!

I am once again in 9-1-1 hell but here’s something I think some of the snowbaz fans might enjoy:

“Living with a reminder is kind of the point,” Buck argues. He looks to Chris for backup but Chris shakes his head.

“What about a lightning bolt?”

Which doesn’t at all fit the assignment but still Buck laughs, reaching over to ruffle Chris’s hair.

Chris groans a teenager-adjacent, “Buck!”

“Thanks, buddy, but I don’t think I’m as cool as Lightning McQueen. Yet,” Buck adds with a wink when Eddie rolls his eyes at him.

“That’s it; I’m banning the two of you from watching that movie ever again,” Eddie says, setting down two plates on the table. He turns back for his own.

“He says,” Buck stage-whispers to Chris, “as if I was the one yelling kachow every time the fire truck turned a corner too fast on our last shift.”

“Kachow! Kachow!” Chris adds, his outside voice at full volume.

Eddie gives Buck a look that says, great. Thanks, asshole.

Chris punctuates the expression with another, “Kachow!” as he spears some broccoli onto his fork.

“At least he’s eating his vegetables?” Buck shrugs but there’s nothing apologetic in how he spears his own piece of broccoli and holds it up to Chris who meets it with his own half-eaten bite.

“Kachow!” they ring in unison, a veggie fist bump.

“Unbelievable.” Eddie rolls his eyes while he struggles to keep the smile off his face.

This is a fic about tattoos and the marks our loves leave on us but it’s also a vehicle (har har) for me to spread my Cars agenda.

Tagging some vroomies: @raenestee, @thewholelemon, @martsonmars, @palimpsessed, @sillyunicorn, @stardustasincocaine, @jbrrring, @bookish-bogwitch, @cutestkilla, & anyone my dumbass almost asleep brain has forgot (or who wants to jump in and say hi!!)

[nerdyqueerr]

lmao andie is a way better dm than i am. well at least i can always be the weird indie game guy

[morgenlich]

always very funny when i mention a few high school friends of mine went to dashcon and people are surprised but we’re not far from where it was, most of them didn’t even bother with a hotel room

[jungwnies]

F1 GRID | being caught together

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, & charles leclerc (click here for part two) ୨ৎ : synopsis : being caught together after telling everyone you guys weren't even dating...

୨ৎ : genre : comedic romance ୨ৎ : tws : cursing ୨ৎ : word count : 1695

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : part one will always include: verstappen, hamilton, russell, sainz, and leclerc. part two will always include: lando norris, oscar piastri, kimi antonelli, ollie bearman, and yuki tsunoda! <3 (every f1 grid story is released on saturdays @ 8pm and @ 10pm est)

ʚ・max verstappen

for weeks, max had been insistent, borderline aggressive, in denying any and all accusations that he and you were together.

"you guys are basically dating," lando said, arms crossed.

max scoffed. "we are not together."

"really?"

"yes," max snapped. "i do not like them that way!"

silence.

lando’s smirk was immediate. "dude. you’re blushing."

max’s jaw clenched. "no, i’m not."

"yeah, you so are."

"it’s just warm in here."

"we’re outside."

max stormed off, fuming, but later that night, he hesitated before texting you:

max: dinner tomorrow? just us?

you: yeah, of course.

it was fine. totally normal.

until you were at dinner, mid-conversation, and max followed your gaze—straight to lando, charles, and liam, all staring, lando already pulling out his phone.

a notification popped up immediately.

lando norris tagged you in a story.

max groaned before he even opened it.

"‘we’re not dating’ – max verstappen, 24 hours ago."

you bit your lip, trying not to laugh. max shot you a glare.

"this is your fault."

"my fault?"

"you said yes to dinner!"

"you asked me!"

max exhaled sharply, shaking his head. then, after a pause, he stole a fry off your plate like it was second nature.

like he hadn’t just unknowingly confirmed to himself, and everyone else, that yeah, maybe you were dating after all.

ʚ・lewis hamilton

it wasn’t supposed to be this complicated.

a simple group trip, a well-planned itinerary, and a definite understanding that you and lewis were just friends—despite what everyone seemed to think.

but then, as everyone was checking into the hotel, things took an unexpected turn.

"alright," george said, skimming the room assignments. "charles, max and liam, me and kimi…"

he paused, eyes narrowing slightly as he read the last booking.

"and…" he cleared his throat, "lewis and y/n?"

a beat of silence.

then, simultaneously:

"what?" you and lewis both said.

lando’s grin was immediate. "oh, that’s interesting."

max raised an eyebrow. "you guys booked a single room?"

lewis frowned, already pulling out his phone to check the reservation. "i didn’t book it—"

"wait," you interrupted, looking at him. "i thought you booked it?"

lewis looked at you. "i thought you booked it."

you both stared at each other for a second, realization slowly dawning.

"oh my god," liam muttered, "you two are ridiculous."

lando was practically buzzing at this point. "so just to clarify," he said, barely containing his laughter, "you guys accidentally booked one room… together?"

george exhaled dramatically. "this is a logistical nightmare."

kimi, on the other hand, looked entirely amused. "or it’s fate."

you groaned, rubbing your temples. "we’ll just get another room—"

the front desk staff chose that moment to appear. "ah, mr. hamilton, ms. y/n, i assume you’re checking into the honeymoon suite?"

silence.

max choked.

lando wheeled away in laughter.

lewis ran a hand over his face, exhaling sharply. "brilliant."

you wanted to die.

"we are not together," you tried to explain, but no one was listening.

the damage was done.

and the worst part? the hotel was fully booked.

you and lewis exchanged glances, his lips twitching like he was already preparing to tease you about this later.

"guess we’re sharing," he murmured, shaking his head.

you sighed, dragging a hand down your face.

"of course we are."

ʚ・george russell

you and george had worked very hard to convince everyone that you weren’t dating.

the teasing from the grid? unbearable. the constant speculation online? exhausting. the smug looks from lewis every time you were together? infuriating.

so, you both stuck to the same script: we’re just friends. we spend a lot of time together, but we’re just friends.

it had worked.

until his parents completely ruined it.

you were visiting george’s family for a quiet weekend—just a casual trip, nothing suspicious at all. at least, that’s what you thought.

it was all going fine—dinner, stories, light conversation—until his mum suddenly sighed in relief, setting down her wine glass with a content smile.

"oh, finally!"

you blinked. "finally?"

george frowned. "finally what?"

his mum waved a hand between the two of you. "you two finally told everyone! we’ve been waiting for ages!"

silence.

you turned to george. george turned to you.

"told everyone what?" he asked, very, very slowly.

his dad chuckled. "that you’re dating, of course."

george nearly choked on his drink. "we’re not dating!"

his mum gave him a knowing look. "oh, come on, george. you told us months ago!"

your stomach dropped.

george froze. "i—what?"

"you called your father and me and said, and i quote—" she cleared her throat, lowering her voice to mimic his, "'mum, dad, i think i’m in love with y/n, and i don’t know what to do about it.'"

you gasped. george gasped.

his dad nodded. "you definitely said that."

lewis, who had been listening via facetime with his front-row seat to the chaos, wheezed.

"george?" you asked, still processing. "is there something you’d like to share with the class?"

george, fully malfunctioning, pushed his chair back abruptly. "i—uh—excuse me for a moment."

and with that, he got up and walked out of his own house.

you watched him leave, blinking in disbelief.

his mum sighed. "oh dear, i hope we didn’t fluster him too much."

lewis, still on facetime, cackled. "flustered? mate just ran away."

you were still stunned, heart racing.

because as shocking as that revelation was, the part that stuck with you the most was that george never denied it.

ʚ・carlos sainz

the plan had been simple—just a casual dinner with friends, nothing that would feed into the ridiculous rumors that you and carlos were anything more than that.

you had spent months dodging questions, brushing off teasing comments, and maintaining the perfectly crafted narrative: we’re just friends.

and it had been working.

until charles completely ruined it.

you didn’t even notice when he took the picture—probably because you were too busy laughing at something carlos had said, leaning into him like it was second nature, his hand resting lightly on your knee under the table.

it was a good picture. a great picture, actually.

unfortunately, it was also a terrible picture because charles, in his infinite wisdom, posted it with zero context and tagged you both.

and then? the comment section exploded.

f1updates: nah this is so soft??? sainzstan99: tell me why they look more coupley than actual couples 😭 carlosfangirl: so we’re all just accepting that they’ve been dating this whole time, right? charles_leclerc: 😊👍🏼 you saw the post at the exact same time carlos did.

your stomach dropped. "oh. my. god."

carlos ran a hand down his face. "you have got to be kidding me."

you immediately went to untag yourself, only to realize that it was too late—the internet had already run with it, edits were being made, tiktoks were going viral, and worst of all, carlos’s own family members were commenting.

reyes.sainz: 🤔 carlossainz55: …interesting. you turned to carlos in horror. "your dad just commented."

carlos sighed deeply. "of course he did."

you both sat there, staring at the screen, knowing there was zero chance of talking your way out of this one.

then, finally, carlos turned to you, a slow smirk creeping onto his face. "well," he said, amusement lacing his voice, "i guess there are worse people to be fake dating."

you scoffed. "oh, shut up."

carlos chuckled, casually throwing an arm around the back of your chair. "should we at least give them something to talk about?"

and the worst part?

you didn’t exactly hate the idea.

ʚ・charles leclerc

you and charles had perfected the art of denial.

the teasing from friends? ignored. the way charles always sat next to you, no matter how many other seats were available? totally normal. the lingering stares, the soft smiles, the fact that he always found an excuse to touch you? just friendly behavior.

it was fine. everything was under control.

until it wasn’t.

it happened in the ferrari garage, where you were waiting for charles after a media session. he walked in, still slightly damp from the post-session shower, running a towel through his hair before spotting you.

his face lit up instantly. "hey," he greeted, walking over. without hesitation, he reached for your hand—like it was second nature, like it was something he did all the time—and laced his fingers through yours as he leaned against the counter next to you.

and the problem wasn’t that he grabbed your hand.

the problem was that he didn’t let go.

neither did you.

it wasn’t intentional. it wasn’t anything, really. just a comfortable, absentminded habit, his thumb gently brushing against your skin, your fingers loosely intertwined as you talked about his session.

at least, until lewis walked in.

lewis, who stopped dead in his tracks, staring at your joined hands like he had just caught you both committing an actual crime.

you immediately froze. charles did too.

then, realization hit.

lewis tilted his head, looking far too amused. "am i interrupting something?"

you and charles immediately pulled away, but it was too late—the damage was done.

lewis’s smirk was instant. "ohhh, so this is what’s been going on?"

"it was nothing," you tried.

lewis crossed his arms. "that’s funny, because it looked like something."

charles, traitor, just ran a hand through his hair, biting back a smile.

lewis chuckled, shaking his head. "mate, i knew ferrari was full of surprises, but i didn’t think this was one of them."

you groaned, covering your face. "lewis."

he held up his hands, stepping back. "don’t worry, i won’t say anything."

you peeked through your fingers. "really?"

lewis grinned. "no. of course not. i’m telling everyone."

and with that, he disappeared.

you sighed, turning to charles, who looked way too entertained. "this is your fault."

he raised an eyebrow. "my fault?"

"you were the one holding my hand!"

charles smirked. "and you didn’t let go."

you opened your mouth to argue, then closed it.

charles leaned in slightly, green eyes flickering down to your lips for just a second before murmuring, "maybe we should give them something real to talk about."

and that was when you realized, maybe getting caught wasn’t so bad after all.

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[s4nniebe4r]

the roommate

part one: the lease

pairing: roommate! san x fem! reader

synopsis: a mutual friend suggests you and choi san, of all people live together

wc: 1.2k

tags: slow burn, roommates, enemies to lovers, angst, forced proximity, eventual romance

etc: this fic is brought to life in a conversation i had with a close friend lol. this fic is going to span a few chapters, so be aware of that… no regular updates, but hopefully i can get them out fairly soon. as always, this isn’t proofread!

next part

The second Seonghwa brought it up, you both shut it down. 

“You two should room together.”

You nearly choke on your drink. “Absolutely not.”

He, on the other hand, doesn’t even look up from his phone. “Yea, no thanks.”

Seonghwa blinks at you both, clearly confused by the immediate and mutual rejection. “Okay, well you didn’t have to say it like that.”

It’s not that the idea in itself is inherently terrible—logistically, it makes sense. Seonghwa knows you’re both struggling to get to the final place before the semester starts, and the rental market is a nightmare. But the problem is that Choi San is insufferable. 

Your first impression of him had been nothing short of hellish. Maybe it was the way he barely spared you a glance, as if you weren’t worth more than a second of his time. Or the way that he was just a little too blunt, like he couldn’t be bothered to soften his words for the sake of basic social norms. Or maybe it was how, in that first conversation, he had looked at you—sharp, and knowing, as if he had already decided you weren’t worth the effort. Whatever it was, it grated on your nerves immediately. And judging by the way San hadn’t exactly extended the welcome mat either, the feeling was mutual. 

The first conversation still lingers in your mind. You had met at some house party Seonghwa dragged you to, already regretting your decision the moment you stepped inside. San had been standing near the drinks, eyes scanning the room like he had a better place to be. You had barely introduced yourself before he cocked his head, and asked, “You always act this strange, or just tonight?”

It was meant to be a joke. Maybe. But it sent your irritation through the roof. “Wow. Charming.”

San has just smirked, sipping his drink. “Didn’t say I was. Just curious.” With that he strolled away, but not before you could hear him mutter the words what a weirdo under his breath. 

And that was the beginning of your mutual distaste. 

So no, you are not going to be his roommate. 

A month ago, you would have laughed at the idea of living with San. Back then, you had standards. Preferences. Hopes. A list of potential roommates who weren’t actively infuriating. But as time passed and each option fell through—rents too high, locations too inconvenient, roommates too unreliable—you started to realize that standards were a luxury you couldn’t afford anymore. 

It has become a pattern: refreshing apartment listings every morning, scrolling through rental groups, sending out hopeful messages only to be met with astronomical prices or ghosting. At first, you were picky. Then you were just desperate. 

Seonghwa had been the first to suggest it, of course. More than once. And you ignored him every time, even when the options were thinning, even when you knew you were starting to run out of time. But after yet another overpriced studio slipped through your fingers once more, you made the mistake of asking, “So… has he found a place yet?”

Seonghwa, always the opportunist, grinned through the phone. “Oh? Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

You grimaced. “Just answer the question.”

“No, he hasn’t. And you should talk to him before he does.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Why do you care so much?”

You could hear him take a quick sip of his coffee. “Because you two are both stubborn brats who need a place to live, and I’m tired of watching you struggle out of sheer pride.”

You wanted to argue, but… he wasn’t wrong. The idea still made you cringe though. Living with San? The same San who once told you to just get over it when you complained about a professor’s impossible grading during a group hangout. The same San who somehow always knew exactly what buttons to push and how without even much of a thought. 

Still, the reality of your situation was pressing down on you. 

You really, really didn’t want to. But practicality won out over pride, and that was how you now found yourself sending an excruciatingly awkward text. You wondered if it sounded desperate. 

you still looking for a place?

It took him two hours to respond. 

yeah. why?

You stared at your phone for a long moment, weighing your options. Every bone in your body wanted to tell him never mind, but you didn’t have that luxury anymore. 

i have an apartment lead. two bedrooms. rent isn’t awful. want to check it out?

San’s reply came quicker this time. 

sure. when? 

And just like that, your fate was sealed. It felt like you were making a pact with the devil. 

The apartment was fine… fine.

Nothing notable. Nothing terrible. Just, fine. 

The landlord was a woman in her late forties with minimal patience. She led the two of you through a quick tour. The kitchen that should really have been labeled as a kitchenette, was small, but functional. The bathroom had seen better days, but was clean enough. The bedrooms were on opposite sides of the unit—an unexpected blessing. If you were really going to do this, at least you wouldn’t have to hear him late at night in the next room. 

San, of course, was impossible to read. He wandered through the apartment with his hands remaining in his pockets, gaze flicking over each room with mild disinterest. Meanwhile, you were running frantic calculations in your head. The price wasn’t awful, the location was decent, and most importantly, this was your last option, you were out. 

"So?" the landlord asked, tapping her pen against the clipboard she held. "You in or not?"

You opened your mouth, ready to say yes, only to hesitate when San finally spoke. “Is there parking?”

You shot him a quick look. That was his question? Not about utilities, not about security deposits, but… parking?

The landlord sighed. “Street parking only. First come, first serve.”

San only hummed, nodding slightly before falling silent again. 

The landlord turned to you. “And you? Any questions?”

A thousand, but nothing would change the fact that you desperately needed this apartment. You shook your head. “No, I’m good, thank you.”

She clapped her hands together. "Great. Lease starts next week. If you’re both serious, we can do paperwork now."

There was a beat of silence. Then San shrugged. "Fine by me."

And that was it. 

So there you sat at the landlord's desk, pen in hand, staring at the contract in front of you. San was already in the midst of signing his copy, cool and composed as ever, like this was just another task to check off on his to-do list. Meanwhile, your stomach was knotting and twisting. This was real. You were actually doing this. 

You glanced at him, half-expecting some last-minute hesitation, some crack in his indifferent facade. But he just slid his finished paperwork back across the desk, tapping his fingers idly against the table, tapping his fingers idly against the table as he waited for you to finish. 

With a deep breath, you signed your name. 

The landlord smiled. “Congratulations. Hope you two get along.”

Neither of you responded. 

San tucked his copy of the lease into his bag, turning to you with an unreadable expression yet again. “Guess we’re doing this.”

You exhaled sharply, gripping your set of keys tightly. “Guess so.”

You already had a headache. 

[yanoverload]

𝕐𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕖! ℂ𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖

Th...The finest hu.....nhooman... in all of... in all of creat...creation...

As a literature girlie I had to do it ok.

….ℌ𝔲𝔤𝔬…? ??? 𝔶𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔰? 𝔡𝔞𝔶𝔰? 𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔯𝔰? 𝔬𝔩𝔡 206 𝔠𝔪 (𝔬𝔯 6’7 𝔣𝔢𝔢𝔱)

🥩 Being a butcher in Victorian times wasn't easy.

🥩 If you didn't hunt yourself, you would have to pay someone to do so.

🥩 Also showers don't exist, so any stains? Good luck!

🥩 How important it was though, that such people like you, knew how to store and cut the best pieces to display. 

🥩 Business wasn't doing stellar, however. 

🥩 Gang members started to raid the shops and demand tribute, "keeping the roads safe of robbers" they said.

🥩 More like a code to "give me money or I'll destroy your store."

🥩 No luck with cops either, they were always bribed to keep their mouths shut.

🥩 The common villagers started having money problems, those with lower income stopped buying at your butchery.

🥩 Those slobs were going to come try and snag more money this end of the month and you didn't have the money for it. 

🥩 Even though you didn't pray, someone high up must have heard yout woes.

🥩 Apparently the duke that took care of the state you lived was going to do a ball, and balls need food.

🥩 The dukedom asked for your best cuts. 

🥩 Not only that, but one day as you were rushing to pick said pieces for the party, a noble appeared in the shop.

🥩 You don't remember his name very well, but have seen high end academies praising his intellect.

🥩 Count Nornstein? No... Something with a F maybe. You are not deep into politics.

🥩 What you saw in your shop was instead a very frazzled, sleep deprived man that probably hasn't seen the sun in weeks.

🥩 Of course, you treated him with the utmost respect, no need to get in trouble with the bobbies. 

🥩 "I need some meat, and a pig's heart" he stated "the freshest you can give me. Name whatever price, it won't matter, I'll pay it."

🥩 More money quickly? Lady luck has blessed you. You rushed to give him what he wanted and he left.

🥩 Next day was when chaos began. It was a Thursday night, you were getting ready to separate the pieces the duke servant's would pick up in the morning

🥩 When you discover the inventory missing.

🥩 No no.... They weren't missing, you accidentally gave them to the noble, the count! Yes you remember now, this is a nightmare!

🥩 You don't want to imagine what could happen if you fail the duke, or even more, failed to pay the "rent".

🥩 With no other option, you tread towards the count's mansion. 

🥩 Maybe you could seduce a guard to let you in the kitchen? Tell them the meat was a spoiled one and you need to change it immediately?

🥩 Gasping for air you reach the mansion at the end of town, only to find it.... Empty. Maybe it's late and everyone is asleep already?

🥩 No time to think about the logistics or criminality, you find yourself soon jumping over the fence and peeking around the estate.

🥩 There is a trapdoor near the garden, almost at the forest that closes around the county.

🥩 Some smoke seems to emerge from it. It must be the kitchen! Or the storage room!

🥩 Surprisingly, it has no locks. 

🥩 Opening it, you find not a kitchen, nor a storage, but a study, how annoying.

🥩 A sound emerges from the darkness, a silhouette soon being shadowed by loads of books. 

🥩 You see one sole amber eye, watching you.

🥩 And you run. 

🥩 Shaky legs barely got you inside the foliage of the forest and you let out a sound that seemed like a cough, but could reminisce a sob.

🥩 "I can't hunt. How am I supposed to get quality deer meat in a few hours?"

🥩 Then a rustle. Some cracks. You see a deer, with it's beady eyes looking at your soul.

🥩 A hand grasps it at it’s neck, a wail leaves it for a millisecond, before...

CRACK!

🥩 It's neck is broken.

🥩 That same amber eye appears from the dark, a huge man holding the deer as if it was a small rabbit.

🥩 Time to accept death, you wonder briefly, before he.... Offers it to you?

🥩 ".....?" The man... Creature? Tilts his head to the side, and shakes the corpse of the poor deer towards you as if it's an obvious gesture.

🥩 Not wanting to anger him, you try to hoist the deer on your shoulders. It's heavy as hell. 

🥩 You look at the man again. His hands are bigger than your head.

🥩 He blinks. Then gives what seems like a really awkward smile.

🥩 "(⁠灬⁠º⁠‿⁠º⁠灬⁠)♡."

🥩 Who is this, does he think you are someone he knows?

🥩 What has your life come to?

[vitalverstappen]

Quietly Yours // a Flash Forward blurb

summary: navigating the paddock with a secret romance isn't easy. unfortunately, Charles can't keep a secret to save his life.

pairing: Max Verstappen x fem!reader (Ferrari photographer, graffiti artist, childhood enemies), Charles Leclerc x platonic fem!reader

warnings: use of y/n, swearing

a/n: i told you i'd be bringing back flash forward at some point. i've had this blurb in my drafts for a while, and now it's yours :) takes place during the 2024 season

word count: 2.3k

flash forward masterlist // main masterlist

You were honestly impressed at how well you and Max were able to keep your relationship hidden from the media. After Isabella constantly posting about her adventures with the Verstappens, you knew the second that Max asked you to be his girlfriend it was going to be under wraps for a while. 

Working for different teams, it was easy to ignore each other. While you were busy following Charles around like a lost puppy capturing content, Max would be elsewhere in the paddock, hopping between meetings and media. The only time you would truly be near each other was if both teams landed on the podium, which somehow only happened once between making it official and making it public. 

And even then, in the blazing sun of Austin, you had to be careful. The brief moments you shared, exchanging smiles from the track, felt like a lifetime, yet they always had to be subtle. A quiet nod here, a fleeting glance there, nothing too obvious. You both knew the importance of keeping your relationship under wraps, especially with the ever-watchful eyes of the media and the fans. 

Working for other teams though, made it difficult when you wanted to see each other. The logistics were a nightmare at times. You’d sneak away from your media obligations, pretending to run errands or look for Annalese, just to steal a few minutes of his company. Max, in turn, would have to duck out of a few meetings or pretend to be buried in his phone when he really just wanted to text you. But you both had a quiet understanding: the secrecy was temporary, just a small sacrifice. 

Of course, those close to you were aware of the blossoming romance. You had told both of your families, Isabella, and Annalese. It was a relief to have the support system, even if it just meant sharing your secret with just a select few. But no matter how much you two tried to hide it, someone was always watching. 

It wasn’t long before the whispers started. At first, it was just the occasional comment from Checo noticing your presence near Red Bull again. You knew he’d keep a secret, most of the drivers would. But there was one in particular that you were worried about finding out. 

Charles. 

You loved working with Charles, you really did. He kept the content interesting and the atmosphere light. Over the years, he had quickly become one of your close friends in the paddock, but you knew you could never share a secret with him. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust him. It was just that he was a blabber mouth.

Charles was one of those people who couldn’t hold onto a secret, even if his life depended on it. He was the first to share a funny story or revealing bit of gossip, and though you loved him for it, you knew this trait would be your undoing. The thought of him casually mentioning something about you and Max in front of the wrong person made your stomach churn. 

So, you and Max kept sneaking around. 

Nights spent tucked away in Max’s hotel room became a small escape from the pressure of the paddock. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was perfect. Takeout containers scattered across the coffee table, empty water bottles, and the soft glow of the TV screen provided the perfect backdrop to those fleeting moments of normalcy. There was no need to sneak glances or worry about being caught in public. 

Max had quickly become a pro at finding ways to keep the relationship low-key. He’d even gotten good at suggesting quiet activities that wouldn’t raise suspicion. Video games were an easy distraction, and it became a running joke between you both - Max laughing at your less-than-ideal skills behind the wheel of his sim. But you didn’t mind; it was a perfect enough excuse to be close to him. 

The Mexico Grand Prix marked almost a month of you and Max sneaking around, your relationship hidden under layers of secrecy. At first, it felt exhilarating - like a thrilling game of cat and mouse. But now, the weight of it all was starting to wear on you. Every time you worked with Charles, you felt the urge to be extra cautious, wondering if they’d catch on. 

Charles, however, was one of those people who noticed everything. He was incredibly observant, which was great for his career, but terrible for your dating life. You’d always been able to trust him, but now, more than ever, you knew there was a chance he’d see right through your facade. 

It started when Max began popping up near the Ferrari garages more frequently. At first, you tried to brush it off. He was friends with Charles after all, and they shared a lot of casual conversations. It wasn’t entirely out of place for Max to be around. But you couldn’t ignore the feeling in the pit of your stomach every time you saw Charles’ eyes flicker toward Max’s presence. He wasn’t stupid, and he certainly wasn’t one to miss small details. 

It was the Friday evening of the Mexico Grand Prix weekend when it finally happened. You and Charles were wrapping up a media session, and you had just sent a quick text to Max, asking if he wanted to grab dinner later. 

You knew you had to be careful, but you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. Charles, ever the observant one, raised an eyebrow as he saw your phone light up. 

“You and Max, huh?” he said casually, pushing his sunglasses to sit on top of his head as the two of you headed toward the exit. 

You froze, your heart skipping a beat. You tried to keep your face neutral, but Charles wasn’t an easy person to fool.

“What?” you asked, your voice just a little too high pitched. “What do you mean?” 

Charles glanced at you, a grin spreading across his face. “You’re not exactly subtle,” he teased. “You’ve been spending an awful lot of time near Red Bull recently… and I can’t help but notice how much time you’ve been texting or sneaking off. And then there’s the way you two look at each other. I’m not blind.” 

Your fingers ran through your hair as a defeated sigh left your lips. “Fine. Yeah, we’re together” you admitted, before your tone hardened and you stuck a finger at the Monegasque. “But, you cannot tell anyone. We’re keeping it private for a while. Away from the media.” 

While his eyes widened for a second before returning to normal size, Charles nodded. “I get it. You don’t need to explain. Your secret is safe with me.”

That claim lasted maybe 42 hours. 

Now, you couldn’t entirely blame him this time, the post race media scrum was always full of high emotions. You were in the back of the media pen, snapping photos of the Ferrari drivers and listening to them drone on about how the race could’ve gone better. You were half listening to Charles and Carlos as they talked about their performance in the race, nodding along politely while your mind wandered. 

You glanced over your shoulder, just for a moment, but it was enough. There, amidst the sea of reporters and photographers, you spotted Max making his way to the media pen. He was talking to a few media personnel, but your eyes locked for a brief second. It was a quiet moment, but it was yours - and it was so easy to forget about everything else when it was just the two of you in the world. 

You snapped back to reality as Max approached Charles, congratulating him on the podium. Clicks of your camera captured the conversation between the two of them, and that’s when you heard it. 

“Congrats on the relationship.” 

You froze for a second, your camera still raised in front of your face. Charles’ voice, casual and light, carried over the noise of the media pen. The words were simple, yet they hit like a sucker punch. 

Max’s face didn’t show much. His usual stoic expression settled back into place almost immediately, but you could see the slight tightening of his jaw. He was trying to keep it together, but Charles’ slip up had caught him off guard. 

You quickly adjusted your camera’s focus, snapping more photos of Charles and Max, hoping it would somehow mask the panic you were feeling. You’d already been on edge for days, wondering when it would happen, and now Charles had inadvertently dropped the bomb. 

Max thanked him, but his gaze flickered between Charles and you. Your stomach churned, your hands suddenly felt clammy. You couldn’t help but feel exposed, like everyone could hear the weight behind the comment, even if they didn’t understand its full meaning. 

Thankfully, you and Charles were flying to Brazil on AirMax, so there was plenty of time to yell at him for his slip up. You were the last one on board, tossing your bags onto an empty seat, but continued walking until you stopped in front of Charles. 

“What did I tell you?” you asked, crossing your arms and glaring at the Ferrari driver

Charles, who had been scrolling through his phone before you approached, went rigid at the sound of your voice. He looked up at you, a sheepish smile spreading across his face, already expecting an earful to come his way. 

“I didn’t mean any harm,” he said, voice tinged with a hint of nervousness. “It didn’t help that you two were practically eye-fucking when he walked into the media pen.” 

You raised an eyebrow, letting the tension build slightly as you stood in front of him. “That still doesn’t mean you can say that in front of the media!” you exclaimed

Max appeared from the back of the plane, presumably finishing loading his stuff on. He was a few steps behind you, and let out a soft exhale as he leaned against one of the seats. He didn’t need to step in - this was between you and Charles - but you could still feel his presence, like a calm buffer. Still, you couldn’t help but feel the strain of keeping this secret for so long, especially now that it seemed to be slipping out. 

Charles shifted uncomfortably under your gaze, but he was still wearing that sheepish grin. “I didn’t say anything too bad, did I?” he asked, clearly trying to deflect the heat. 

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your cool. It. was hard when your heart was still racing from that moment in the media pen. “It’s not just about what you said,” you said, your tone still firm but a little less heated. “It’s about timing. You know how important it is for us to keep this private. The moment you say something like that, especially where you said it, makes it public, Charles.” 

“But no one asked about it, no?” he asked, his head tilting slightly 

You opened your mouth to answer, to say people did ask and that it all blew up in your face. But you couldn’t, because no one asked you. Everyone else went on with their day like it was nothing. 

Your eyes darted to Max for help, almost hoping that someone asked him about it to prove your point to Charles. But he looked as lost as you felt. You could see the gears turning in his head as he recalled his media duties. But there was no immediate savior in his gaze, no quick answer to make everything right. 

“I mean… I didn’t get asked anything about it,” he admitted, shrugging 

“Exactly,” Charles said, his sheepish grin turning more into a more relaxed smirk. “I fucked up, I know. But it definitely could’ve been a lot worse.”

“Yes, it could’ve,” you agreed. “And I’m glad it wasn’t. But you need to be a lot more careful with what you say and where you say it,” you continued, the firmness creeping back slightly into your voice. 

Charles looked at you, his expression softening. He could tell you weren’t just mad; you were genuinely worried. About him. About the situation. About everything. It was rare for you to let your guard down like this, but Charles was one of the few who could see right through it. 

“I know,” he said quietly, his playful tone gone. “I’m sorry, really. I didn’t mean to cause any harm.”

The air in the cabin felt a little less heavy after that, but there was still some lingering unease. You exchanged a glance with Max, and for the first time in a while, he seemed just as uncertain about how to move forward. Keeping your relationship a secret had always been a delicate dance, and Charles had almost just waltzed right into a landmine. 

You let out a long breath, trying to release some of the frustration that had been building. “Okay. I forgive you, but please, be careful next time,” you said, trying to sound more forgiving than you felt. “This is important to us. We’re doing this for a reason.” 

Charles nodded, “I promise, I won’t make that mistake again. I’ll keep my mouth shut.” 

You smiled a little, your frustration fading into something a bit more lighthearted. “Good,” you said, then turned to Max, offering him a small but genuine smile. “We’ve got enough to worry about without adding unnecessary drama.”

As the plane touched down in Brazil, you couldn’t shake the thought that maybe keeping the relationship under wraps wouldn’t be as hard as it seemed.

But one thing was clear: your secret was no longer just between you and Max. It was shared, whispered among those who cared, and now it was just a matter of how long you could keep the world from finding out. 

[sunderwight]

SV Mary Poppins-ish AU.

So lots of protagonists and antagonists and etc have tragic backstories. Turns out that this can present something of a logistical nightmare for systems in cases where the stories become "real", because there are many instances where an author overestimated how survivable certain angst-ridden circumstances actually were, and without some kind of intervention, a lot of characters actually don't make it anywhere near their intended power-up and revenge/villain/hero/etc arcs.

In cases where this is happening, the System deploys a special agent to go make sure that plot-crucial characters actually survive to the plot.

Enter Shen Yuan, case worker for tragic backstories. His job, basically, is to sweep in during the points of the backstory where the story isn't paying attention and provide actual care. Most of the time, the system ensures that his clients forget about him when he's no longer present, so he can't impact the plot or their character development. But that also means he gets to be as nice and supportive as he wants to be while he is there.

He hates it, though -- knowing that he has to leave his little charges behind to suffer, and that they'll all forget him, and that some of them will grow up and meet bad ends (because they're villains, or tragic heroes, or doomed mentors, or fridged love interests, or so on). However, he can't beat the system, so he just tries to compartmentalize it. Focus on the here-and-now, steadily accrue points, and get to where he can afford to buy a proper reincarnation.

He works in this fashion for a long time, although it's difficult to keep track of it when the System is constantly bouncing him from relevant backstory moments to pending non-canon catastrophes. Sometimes it's stories he knows, sometimes it's stories he doesn't, or is only peripherally aware of. The first time he arrives in PIDW, he doesn't even figure it out. Partly because it's not backstory info that actually made it into the novel, partly because he has by that point kind of stopped trying to figure out where he's going, and whether or not the cute little kid he's helping is going to get their limbs all chopped off someday.

He likes Xiao Jiu and Yue Qi, but given the sheer number of times he has to go save them from dying and try to comfort them in their misery, he doesn't foresee them meeting good ends.

And then there's Luo Binghe. Treating a baby for hypothermia, helping a lost little orphan reach a faraway mountain on his own, bringing him food and treating his wounds in the woodshed, whisking him away to brief (always so brief) magical escapes to just give his brain a chance to rest and recover from all the grief and struggle, even if he won't actually remember the reprieve. Shen Yuan can't pretend he doesn't know that Luo Binghe's story is going to take him to some rough places, can only console himself with the idea that he'll be able to intervene at the worst of times, and that in the end at least, Binghe will live.

At least, until Shen Yuan realizes who Binghe's scum shizun is after he accidentally crosses paths with Shen Qingqiu, and Xiao Jiu recognizes him. Remembers him.

Then he figures out just what exactly is going to happen, and who it is going to happen to, and suddenly all that compartmentalization fails him.

Nanny Shen goes rogue.

[moriwood]

Director's Cut — l.hs

top!lee heeseung x btm!male reader smut with some plot 3.9k words

You are a film editor who frequently collaborates with director Heeseung on his rom-coms and dramas. When his latest project turns out to be an erotic thriller, you find yourself in the editing room struggling to make sex scenes feel real. Heeseung then boldly offers a solution: a hands-on demonstration of authentic sex.

includes: u suck heeseung, he fucks u, then he sucks u; he tells u what to do cuz he’s a director n u’re a struggling editor; then some filmmaking discussion for plot

“Stop it,” you say without looking at Sunghoon, scrolling aimlessly through the timeline on the monitor.

“Stop what?” he replies, tone mocking as he feigns ignorance.

“Staring. Grinning. Wiggling your eyebrows,” you mutter, keeping your voice low as you reach for your water bottle. “It’s just a sex scene.”

There’s too much skin on the screen. Too many shots of heaving and moaning men touching each other. Both your eyes and ears have been overstimulated for the past few hours, editing another film of Heeseung. This one stars Park Jongseong as Jay and Sim Jaeyun as Jake in an erotic thriller; their lifelong friendship strains when they start a casual sexual relationship with an underclassman, leading to escalating jealousy and possessive behavior.

You’ve worked on nearly every film he’s made, but this is the first time both of you are dealing with material that is so… graphic. Rom-coms and melodramas? Done, multiple times. Some arthouse film bordering on softcore porn? For the first time, now.

“I can’t help it. My little baby’s finding out how babies are made, I’m so proud,” Sunghoon whines, sipping noisily on his iced coffee. He leans against your desk, tilting his head. “You’re working on a movie like this with Heeseung. Alone. In this editing room. For hours, maybe days, we don’t know.” He drags out the last word with an exaggerated tone that makes you roll your eyes.

Your butt has practically molded to the cushion of your swivel chair at this point, a few more hours and you’d become one with it. “It’s just work, Sunghoon. Like every other project I’ve had with him. Purely professional. Clean business. Focused on the money,” you tell him, shooting him a warning look.

Sunghoon barks out a laugh, nearly spitting out his drink. “Lies! Professional? Sure. Clean? Hardly. Focused? On the money? Or the way his shirt is always unbuttoned so you can take a peek underneath?” He wiggles his eyebrows again. “You always work in this room that barely fits two and start talking about lighting ratios like it’s fucking foreplay.”

You open your mouth to protest, but Sunghoon cuts you off, wagging a finger in your face.

“Nuh uh. You don’t get to deny your completely obvious crush on the man. Everyone knows at this point. Maybe even Heeseung himself!”

“He doesn’t!” you retort, face heating up. You couldn’t even deny your tiny, harmless, and definitely not obvious crush on Heeseung anymore.

“We have evidence,” he says, donning a sinister grin.

“What evidence?” you sigh, further melting into your seat.

“Well,” Sunghoon begins, ticking off his fingers, “there’s the interviews. He always mentions you, the editor, as the reason why his films end up so well-received. Editors never get shoutouts like that!”

“I’m pretty sure he just appreciates everyone he works with,” you argue.

“Also! He reshot an entire scene because of your feedback a month after filming had ended—which, by the way, directors rarely do. He had to make the production manager book the location again! And the actors who had to reschedule. What a logistical nightmare.”

“Most likely I wasn’t the only one with such kind of feedback!”

“Okay then. He always—always—makes sure you’re comfortable during review sessions. You’re the only editor I know who has the director wrapped around his finger instead of the other way around.”

“He’s just being professional,” you reason, though your voice lacks conviction. It’s just a professional working environment. Nothing more, nothing less.

Sunghoon lets out a dramatic sigh, slumping back in the chair beside you. “Hopeless. Truly. I hope your dick shrivels up and falls off one day.”

“It’s already shriveling up from the amount of fake sex I’ve seen today,” you groan, pausing on a frame of an actor’s crotch covered in plaster. “Everyone’s turned to a Ken doll.”

“It’s okay,” Sunghoon places a hand on your shoulder, fake concern plastered on his face. “I am here to tell you that this film will be a critical and commercial success.”

“This,” you point at the monitor, “film?” you exasperate.

He smirks. “No, this upcoming porno between the director and his editor! Two horny men, stuck in a tiny room, practically watching porn together. The porn writers are salivating over your scenario.”

“Can you not?” you hiss, glancing at the door like Heeseung might walk in any second and hear this ridiculous conversation. “It’s an… experimental film,” you rationalize.

“An experimental film with a ton of sex scenes, blah blah. Or maybe sex sells and Heeseung wants a slice of the pie.”

“I’m the one that needs a slice of that pie, Sunghoon.”

“Are we still talking about money or are you talking about Heeseung’s ass—”

“If you’re not gonna help, just leave,” you groan, massaging the temple of your head.

“You’re working on something so adult—so filthy! How is Heeseung even gonna talk about it? ‘Oh, could you please make it look like they’re really having an orgasm? Oh, you don’t get it? Wait, let me show you how to get one.’ He’s using this project as an excuse to get all sexy with you!”

You snort. “Nothing about what you just said sounds sexy at all.”

“But you imagine it, don’t you?” he counters, raising an eyebrow. “I swear, if I catch the two of you recreating those sex scenes like you’re method acting…”

Before you can shove Sunghoon out of the room yourself, the door opens, and the temperature in the room immediately shifts. You swiftly turn your chair around, and you see Heeseung walk in with a stride, a presence so commanding you and Sunghoon suddenly sit up stiffly. He’s holding a stack of papers, probably copies of script revisions, and his usually calm and collected demeanor is being betrayed by his tousled hair and slightly unbuttoned dress shirt. Your gut says Heeseung is bothered by the subject matter of this film too.

“Sunghoon,” Heeseung hesitantly greets, gaze flicking between you and Sunghoon. He seems surprised to see you not alone in the room. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Not at all, Heeseung,” Sunghoon replies brightly. “I was just leaving. Tried helping him a bit.”

“Oh, thank you,” Heeseung replies. “Quite a difficult film to work with this time.”

“You should be thanking this guy right here real hard,” Sunghoon laughs, throwing you a knowing look. He slips past Heeseung and clicks the door shut behind him, leaving you alone with Heeseung. The already tiny room suddenly feels way more suffocating.

“Hello. Doing okay?”

“Hello,” you politely nod, gesturing to the now-vacant chair beside you. You turn back to the computer. “I just finished the rough cut. But to be completely honest, my cut’s very dull.”

“Let me see,” Heeseung hums, a deep voice sending vibrations through your spine. Rather than sitting beside you, he stands behind you, a hand gently placed on the back of your chair. He leans over slightly, just enough for you to catch the scent of his woody perfume, and maybe to also take a peek at the top of his shirt, but you force yourself to keep staring at the screen. Sunghoon will never be proven right.

You drag your mouse across to one of the difficult scenes, hitting play. It’s a relatively silent scene, bar the moaning of Jake and Jay which reverberated in the speakers in the room. The scene is dimly lit, movements of the actors slow and deliberate. There is an occasional rustle of clothing, and the creak of floorboards. It’s supposed to be a build-up to a sex scene, but something felt off—it didn’t feel authentic. The original footage was so raw and beautiful on its own, yet after some snipping and adjusting some sliders, you made it look… restrained. Scripted.

“I think I ruined the sex scenes,” you explain.

“It’s alright,” Heeseung says, voice low. “But it’s too rushed. Hold Jay’s expression for a few more seconds before cutting to Jake’s reaction.”

You nod, making the adjustment on the timeline. It’s just a few seconds, but the rhythm flows more naturally.

“Better,” Heeseung mutters, a hum of satisfaction accompanying him. Better, but not yet the best, you thought.

You glance at him, surprised to find him already looking at you. His gaze is steady, unreadable, and you can’t tell if he’s studying the scene or something else entirely.

“What else should I do?” you ask, your voice coming out surprisingly quieter and meeker than usual, matching Heeseung’s subdued demeanor. 

A smile begins to play on his lips. “Hmm.” His tone is thoughtful, with an edge of teasing. “You usually take the lead when we’re in the cutting room, but you seem lost today.” He lets the words hang in the air. “Is it because you've never experienced scenes like this before?”

Your hands freeze over the keyboard. “It’s normal to be unfamiliar with the content you’re working with,” you defend. “I don’t need to be kinky myself to edit a kinky sex scene.”

“Relax, I’m just kidding,” Heeseung chuckles warmly, finally sitting down beside you.

“The tension doesn’t feel real,” you admit, taking a deep breath, fidgeting in a poor attempt to dissipate the tension around the small space. “It did before I messed with the footage.”

“‘Real,’ you say,” Heeseung mutters, leaning back. “Should I show you what authentic sex feels like?”

You whip your head toward him, eyes wide. “Excuse me, what!?”

He tilts his head, smirking. “I could show you. Right here, right now.”

Your brain short-circuits for. Mouth opening like a fish, you attempt to respond, but all that comes out is a strangled, “Huh?”

Heeseung leans closer, whispering, “You’ve been staring at this screen for how long, trying to fake something you haven’t experienced. I’m offering to help.” He pauses. “For the film, of course.”

Your face burns, and you glance at the door, heart pounding. “Are you hearing yourself?”

He shrugs, unfazed, and nods toward the monitor. “Play the sex scenes. Let’s go step by step.”

Before you can muster a coherent response, the door swings open. Sunghoon peeks, oblivious to his joke on the verge of becoming a reality. “Hey, you two want food? Might be here ‘til the morning,” he grins.

Heeseung smiles. “Actually, yeah. Remember that coffee shop where we shot Buzzer Beater Heartbeat?”

“That’s over an hour away.” Sunghoon blinks. “Do they even do delivery?”

“You could just drive?” Heeseung replies, tone leaving no room for argument. “We’re going to be here for a while anyway, right?” He glances at you, gaze so heavy your stomach flips.

“Uh… yeah,” you manage. “Go now, Sunghoon.”

Sunghoon narrows his eyes, glancing between you two as if he’s piecing together a puzzle. “Okay… I’ll be back.” Then he silently turns and leaves, the door’s thud echoing in the silence.

Heeseung stands up and reaches past you to the monitor, arm brushing your shoulder as he drags the timeline back. Jay’s low groan fills the space—and he adjusts the volume, just enough to be heard outside. “There,” he murmurs. “Sound design covered.”

You turn your head, and he’s closer than you expected. Your pulse quickens, but Heeseung doesn’t hurry. His hand settles on the back of your neck, fingers threading gently into your hair, and he studies your face. “You’ve never really done this before?” he asks, gentle, almost placating.

You shake your head, mumbling, “No. Tell me what to do.”

“That’s okay,” he says, thumb brushing small circles against your skin. “Just follow my lead, yeah? No pressure.”

You nod as he leans in, lips brushing yours in a kiss that’s barely there—testing the frame, a screen test for chemistry. He slowly deepens the kiss, allowing you to adjust as your hands settle on the soft fabric of his shirt.

When you part, Heeseung murmurs, “You’re trembling. You wanna stop?”

“No,” you mutter. “What’s next?”

He chuckles as he steps back and sits back down, legs spread wide. “Unbutton my shirt.”

You reach for his buttons, fumbling at first, but he doesn’t rush you, his hot gaze focused on you. His shirt falls open, finally revealing the skin that has haunted your dreams since you started working with him. “Come sit and touch me,” he whispers, “‘wherever feels right.”

You hesitate, glancing at the setting—monitor, keyboard, chairs, equipment. This room doesn’t feel like the greatest place to have sex in. “Won’t we break something?” you ask.

“We won’t,” he replies, not concerned in the slightest, then he raises the arm rests of his chair. “Plenty of room.” He pats his thighs. 

A new actor following his director, you follow his calm instruction, letting your fingers trace the lines of his collarbone, then down to his stomach. He hums, encouraging, leaning in to kiss you again.

“You can guess what’s next, right?” he says, as he holds your hand to the waistband of his pants.

You nod, kneeling as you take off his pants and boxers. His erect cock catches you off-guard, a more daunting presence from your position.

“Get comfy, touch it,” he smiles, reassuring. You wrap your fingers around him, warm and firm. You stroke it up and down, an action that you’re already familiar with, albeit only to yourself and not to someone else.

“Like that?” you ask, eyes flicking to his face for approval.

“Exactly like that,” he groans. “Now, if you’re ready, use your mouth. Just the tip first, don’t force yourself.”

You hesitantly settle your lips on the tip of his dick, tasting the faint saltiness of his skin. He exhales softly, hand steadying on your shoulder. “Breathe through your nose.” You take him in a little, and he hums approvingly, gripping tighter. “So good.”

The praise eases your nerves and you begin to explore, tongue experimenting his length. From the veins to the tip, you try to find a rhythm, but then your teeth graze him. You freeze as he flinches, but he recovers with a smile. “Mistakes are natural… Makes it real.”

The scene on the monitor has changed—Jake and Jay tussling around a kitchen counter, Jake’s slow submission to his best friend’s aggression, and their confused arousal. Jay takes control, the more experienced between the two, the buttons on Jake’s shirt flying away as he tears it open. The rip of a wrapper, the pop of a bottle cap; suddenly, Jake’s about to be fucked by his best friend, who is also his rival in pursuing the same guy.

Heeseung sighs as he gently pulls you back, thumb brushing some spit on your lips as he looks down at you. “You still okay? Let’s switch it up.”

You nod, swallowing hard as Heeseung reaches for his pants on the floor, pulling out a small packet of lube and a condom—the same brand that Jay used onscreen. “Gotta thank the props team for this,” he laughs. “Arms against the desk. Need to prep or it’ll hurt,” he explains, the cadence of his voice almost clinical.

His hands slide to your waist, tugging your pants down. The cool air makes you shiver but his touch grounds you. “Eyes on the screen, notice how they move.”

He preps you carefully, fingers slick with lube. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmurs, one hand resting on your hip as he works through it. It’s not that painful nor is it that pleasurable, but you had no benchmark to base on. The parallel between Heeseung and the scene isn’t subtle: his and Jay’s patience in prepping, you and Jake awkwardly pinned against surfaces.

When he’s satisfied, he rolls the condom on, positioning himself behind you. “Ready?” he asks, lips nipping your earlobe. 

“Please,” you reply, gripping the edge of the desk. He presses forward, restrained and controlled. The stretch is intense but he lets you adjust, and he whispers, “Look at the screen, okay? Tell me what you see.”

And you do, every inch, every movement, mirrored by the actors on the screen. “Jay’s grip on Jake’s waist,” you murmur. “The restraint fading as Jay loses himself to the pleasure.” It's just like Heeseung holding you tighter as he starts to find a steady rhythm. “Fuck,” you whine. “Can’t see. Can’t—think.”

Heeseung’s teasing laughter reverberates through your body. “You know what makes it real?” he grunts, “I didn’t give them notes. Told them to interpret the script as they wanted. These aren’t the characters Jay and Jake anymore—it’s Park Jongseong and Sim Jaeyun trying so hard to hold back.” His voice grows breathless, heavier. 

His hand slides to your neck, pressing you gently against the desk. “So let’s go off-script too,” he laughs.

He pulls out and turns you around to face him. Heeseung smirks at the mess he’s made, brushing a stray hair from your forehead. “Still okay?” he asks.

You nod, catching your breath, eyes going in and out of focus. On the side, Jay and Jake are already tangled in their climax, while you and Heeseung are still teetering on the edge.

He sits back in his chair. “Sit. Face me and straddle me,” he sighs, stroking his still-hard cock.

You straddle him carefully, his hands quick to steady your hips as you lower yourself onto him. The new angle makes you gasp, the pleasure sharper but the pain renewed.

“Hold on to me,” he says, “I’ll do the work.” You loop your arms around his neck as he begins to rock beneath you. You nestle your head in the crook of his neck but he whines, “I wanna kiss you again.”

You meet his eyes and the intimacy of the situation sinks in—an unguarded close-up shot. The warmth of his minty breath, the slight hitches, his lips parting as he continues grinding.

“Kiss me,” he murmurs again, a plea. You lean forward, your lips meeting as if you were savoring the sweet opportunity. The scene called for it; otherwise, none of this would be happening. He pulls you closer, your chests beating right next to each other. 

The pleasure coils tighter, but it’s not enough to push you over the edge yet. For Heeseung, it was more than enough. His hips stutter, groaning against your lips as he cums, body tensing beneath you. “Shit, sorry,” he softly laughs.

You let out a low groan as he pulls out, disposing of the condom with a quick toss.

He lifts you off his lap, setting you on the edge of the desk. He sweeps his arm across the surface, sending his papers and your wireless equipment to the floor with a loud clatter. On any other day, you’d be scrambling to check if your expensive keyboard broke but Heeseung right now is an experience beyond price.

“Sit comfortably and spread your legs for me,” he commands as he moves his chair.

His fingers brush lightly along the inner side of your thighs, teasing it as he murmurs, “I had a scene like this in early drafts—Jay going down on Jake. Producers made me cut it off the script, said it was too explicit for the market.” His lips curve into a wry smile, eyes glinting with mischief. “Wanna film an uncut version with me?”

His hand wraps around the base of your twitching cock, then he presses a kiss to the tip, tongue flicking out to taste you. The sensation is immediate, and you bite your lip to stifle a moan. He hums as he takes you in, swirling around the head, the slit, while his eyes are just locked with yours. He strokes the base in time with his mouth, his other hand pressing your thigh open.

“How do you fucking do this?” you mutter in pleasure, fingers tangling in Heeseung’s hair as you push him further down. He only hums, picking up his pace, tongue working faster. And you moan louder, tilt your head back further, the wet heat making your toes curl.

“I’m—close, please,” you gasp, hips bucking and thighs involuntarily locking Heeseung in place. He doesn’t relent, doesn’t fight back, sucks and strokes faster. Your body arches off the desk, cumming hard in his mouth. He doesn’t pull away, swallowing every wave and lapping at you until you’re trembling and fully spent.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand when he pulls back. He pauses the playing cut on your computer, the room falling into silence. “Now you know what to do with the edit?”

Still sprawled across the desk with your head spinning, you barely register his phone buzzing from the floor. “Sunghoon,” he says, picking it up. “Yeah?” You sit up, realizing the disarray of the room. “Your wallet? Hang on.” You scan the floor, pointing to a white leather wallet under Heeseung’s discarded condom. “Oops,” he grins. “Yeah, you left it here.”

“Does it have to be that coffee shop?” he repeats. “No, no. Actually, I think we’re wrapping up for today. Yeah, just buy whatever with what you have.”

He hangs up and shrugs, already buttoning his shirt. “Better move fast ‘cause he’s coming back,” he says, tossing you your pants.

You stare at him, wide-eyed. “You’re making him come back now?”

You scramble to dress as Heeseung watches you, donning an infuriating smirk like he’s already envisioning another scene with you. “Sunghoon will know what happened immediately, and he will never shut up about it. Everyone’s gonna be talking about it,” you say.

“I don’t mind,” he replies. “Just so others know our best films come from working together.” He picks up Sunghoon’s wallet and tosses it onto the desk. “You good? No pain?” 

“Tolerable. All good. My personal activities kinda prepared me for this,” you confess.

Heeseung laughs, “So what did you take from this experience?”

You slightly wince at the pain as you pick up your miraculously unbroken keyboard and mouse. “Sex scenes are better if there are real organs involved?” you joke.

“No, but seriously. Did it at least clear up your mind?”

“What’s good already,” you start, pointing at the screen, “is the raw emotion in Park Jongseong and Sim Jaeyun. That’s why you had so many close-ups—droplets of sweat, goosebumps, shit like that.”

Heeseung hums, gathering the papers on the floor. “Their chemistry carried the scenes.”

“I overcut it, rushing to the payoff instead of letting the anticipation build,” you sigh, sitting down and scrolling to a different scene. It’s a static shot, the camera unmoving, no dialogue, just Jake and Jay lying in bed after having sex. The original footage was almost a minute long, but you cut it to around a quarter of its length. Looking at it now, your edit diminished the contemplation and guilt between the two friends.

“It’s technically solid, like you always do, but it’s not…” Heeseung pauses, thinking. “Visceral.”

“It’s sex and it’s usually gratuitous, but if we treat it with the same intricacy as the scenes before and after, it makes it hit harder,” you note.

“You’re really good at this, you know,” he smiles.

Your cheeks warm, but you shrug it off. “You give me good material to work with.”

“It’s enough that you caught something wrong with the edit before I even came here.”

You groan. “Can’t believe we’re back to serious work talk when you just fucked me to heaven and back.”

“We’re just professionals, I say,” Heeseung laughs. “We’ve got a film to finish—and maybe a few more scenes to figure out. Maybe a coffee shop or my place, next time?”

You meet Heeseung’s curious gaze with intrigue. “Only if you keep it to script revisions and some good food. I think we’ve got enough notes on the sex scenes.”

“No promises,” he grins. “My next film’s about the exploits of a film editor.”

author’s note: y'all would not believe that my inspiration is no doubt (okay very obvious and very normal) and a fucking podcast of filmmakers (it’s in filipino sorry) 😭 gist of it is the editor and his director were editing a sex scene together. the director said (roughly) that for a sex scene to be effective, the audience has to feel the release; then, that determines the length of the sex scene. it's censored but i think the director also physically demonstrated the "release"? like not actual sex, just made vaguely sexual gestures oasjfadaiofs guess when i got the idea for this fic based on the upload dates oafgjaoig 🥹

— moriwood.

[ahundredtimesover]

I Want You to Stay (05) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; eventual explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 14.8k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: I deeply appreciate all the love and messages (and anticipation for uh, stuff) but again, it's a slow burn! Thank you so much! 🥰

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight  🥰

PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!

Jungkook sits cross-legged on the couch in his office, his iPad in hand as he goes through the Board report for the nth time these past five days. 

Manager Lee and Chin-sun have put together the logistics, construction, and design departments’ reports with the VP’s and Jungkook is supposed to sign these off for submission to the CEO today, who then approves it for submission to the Board members. They have until Friday to review it in time for the meeting happening that same day. 

This consolidated report was finalized last Wednesday and Jungkook has been reviewing it everyday since then, including his presentation, making minimal comments and then taking notes on things he’s unfamiliar with. Granted, he’s reporting about the quarter when he’s only been Vice President for a month, which makes you incredibly instrumental in his preparations. As the executive assistant, you have the information that Jungkook needs from Hoseok’s time, and so you’ve also been spending everyday since Wednesday answering all of Jungkook’s questions. 

You don’t mind, really, as they’re details you know by heart. It also allows you to show him how involved and meticulous you were under Hoseok’s leadership, and Jungkook’s hums and mumbles of appreciation have helped you gain back the confidence that you lost. 

Even if your self-esteem decreased this past month because of the very person sitting in front of you, the fact that Jungkook’s been showing - in his own ways - his trust in you is enough to lift your spirits. He did admit last week that he needs you - something you hadn’t expected him to say - and you could tell it took so much from him to be able to verbalize it. But you suppose you needed that honesty, too; you needed to know that after all that frustration and anger during the first few weeks, there was that realization on his end that you have his back, and you’re just as capable as what everyone has been saying you are. 

“What information do you need from me, Mr. Jeon?” You finally ask. 

It’s been a good five minutes since Jungkook had asked for you and you’ve just been standing in front of him while he scrolls through the screen, perhaps giving another final look before he finally sends the document to his father.

“Nothing,” he sighs, rolling his head back and closing his eyes. “I just… I just need someone to tell me to stop reviewing this report. I need this out of my sight but I can’t stop checking to make sure everything is okay.”

You look at him intently while he speaks. The tension in his entire face and body is visible, you can even feel it in the room. You feel for him, as he tries to hide the anxiety and desperation. You can tell that he just wants to do well so badly. With the amount of time he’s been spending just going through this, his perfectionist tendency surfaces, and you’re at least thankful that it hasn’t turned him back into an asshole. At least not yet. 

“You need to stop reviewing the report, Mr. Jeon, and let it go,” you say as instructed but with sincerity in your words. “You’ve been on this for days. Manager Lee and Chin-sun have reviewed it, and so have I. CEO Jeon could still suggest changes and we won’t know them until he’s reviewed it, but we at least have the details ironed out. If I may suggest, you can send the file to him in the next hour so you can now focus on practicing for your presentation. That may be a better use of your time.”

Jungkook opens his eyes and turns to you. There’s assurance in your words and your voice and like what he told himself he’d do, he’ll trust you and the team. He’s seen how hard everyone has been working for this - Manager Lee and Chin-sun have done so well in consolidating and cross-checking everything; Do-hyun’s presentation is simple yet effective, and Yohan, who’s back from the hospital, has been adding in all the needed details. And there’s you, making sure that everything and everyone is on track, even as you prepare for Jungkook’s upcoming events. 

“Okay, then,” he exhales deeply. “I’ll send it in the next half hour.”

Knowing he has a meeting set at 2PM, you ask him if you should order him lunch.

“Yes please,” he answers, saying he wants some braised beef from the restaurant on the next block. “Order for yourself as well, and the rest of the team. You can all get anything you want.”

The silence prompts Jungkook to look at you, and he’s met with a questioning gaze.

“Is there a problem?” He asks.

“N—no,” you answer. “I’d like to confirm again that I’ll be ordering lunch for you and all five of us.”

“Yes, Ms. Cho. That’s what I said.”

You remain unmoving as you wait for him to correct himself. This is the first time that Jungkook has offered to treat the team to a meal. Not that you’ve been waiting for it, but Hoseok took you all out to dinner on his first day as a welcome and a thanks in advance, and once you picked up that Jungkook wasn’t the type to engage with his staff much, you just didn’t expect anything. So takeaway lunch from a nice restaurant is definitely surprising. 

“Okay, sir,” you say. “I will do that. I’m sure the team will appreciate it.”

Jungkook merely hums, his eyes focused on the screen now as you bow and head out. 

You go meet the team and as you expected, everyone looks at you in shock. 

“Did the real Mr. Jeon get abducted?” Do-hyun asks. “Because treating us is something he wouldn’t do.”

“Yah! It may be a month late but let’s just be thankful, okay?” You frown at her. “He can see that everyone’s been working hard and I’m sure he appreciates that, and he may not be able to say it but he can at least show us.”

“While he’s at it, he can maybe at least say thank you or you know, smile every once in a while,” Chin-sun sighs. 

“We’ll get there. He knows he needs to do better and he will, I’ll make sure of that,” you assure them, thinking about the conversation from last week. 

Jungkook wants you to help him and for his sake and everyone else’s, you’ll make sure that you do. 

“Well, is he better to you?” Do-hyun asks, her face in a pout because she’s seen you skip meals several times and even cry, and she’d wanted so many times to just hug you, but she knows it’s not something you openly receive. 

“Yes,” you say, knowing it will drive your point. “I’d like to think that the worst is over and I can just focus on doing better and helping him. It would be great if the rest of us could do the same.”

“She’s right,” Manager Lee chimes in. “We grow when we adapt, and much more when we’re able to move on and learn from our experiences. It hasn’t been the best month but it’s also just been a month. So let’s be grateful for the meal and just continue with the good work we’ve been doing, okay?”

You give them the warmest smile you can muster, hoping this would be enough. 

It seems to be, as they all excitedly give their orders, which you and Yohan pick up from the restaurant. You return and after giving Jungkook his food, you head to the other room to eat as well.

The team enjoys the meal, with Do-hyun dramatically stating that it’s the best beef brisket she’s ever had. And you agree; there’s a reason why Jungkook gets this every week. 

Jungkook can hear laughter and satisfied hums from the support team office, with Do-hyun, he supposes, claiming that it feels like Christmas. Yohan says it’s a much-needed post-recovery treat, and even Manager Lee - who’s often serious - cracks a few jokes. Jungkook can pick out your sound, too, noting the joy that emanates from it. He allows himself a small smile, knowing that given how he’s been to everyone this past month, he at least could give his team this highlight of their day. 

He stands by the door, initially going unnoticed, until Chin-sun catches sight of him and alerts everyone that he’s there. The room goes silent, and Jungkook looks on as his staff quietly munch their food and bow to him in greeting. The teasing and laughter have gone; worried eyes are what he sees instead. 

Your initial surprise at seeing him melts away. He rarely drops by for anything, even for a greeting or to just check up on the team, unlike Hoseok who liked to come here often to de-stress after long meetings. But you sense Jungkook’s awkwardness at the silence, with his hands in his pockets and his blank gaze, so you smile at him and hope that eases the tension a bit.

“Lunch was great, Mr. Jeon,” you say. “Thank you.”

“It was,” Manager Lee pipes in. “The roast pork was so delicious. The potato salad was very good, too.”

You look at the others and encourage them to say something as well, and they hum in agreement and say their thanks.

“The beef brisket was heavenly,” Do-hyun raves. “Thank you! I hope it’s not the last time.”

She awkwardly chuckles, realizing that her boss isn’t one she should be joking with, but Jungkook doesn’t seem to take offense, as he purses his lips - perhaps to hide a smile, revealing a tiny dimple that catches you off guard. 

“It won’t be. And uh, it was a month late, so I’m glad you all enjoyed it,” he replies, a tinge of disappointment now painting his face.

There’s another moment of silence and you observe him, hands still in his pockets, looking around awkwardly, unable to meet anyone’s eyes. 

“It’s greatly appreciated, sir,” you assure him once more. “We hope you had a good lunch as well.”

“I’m just about to have it, actually,” he says. “I sent the report to the CEO and he must’ve been waiting for it because he read it right away and called to give feedback.”

“Oh? How did CEO Jeon find it?” Manager Lee asks.

“He said it was good. There are just minor things he asked me to change but I can do them on my own,” Jungkook answers. “I appreciate everyone’s hard work. Now, we can focus on our upcoming events and the Arts Center.”

The team immediately starts packing and swallowing their food, and Jungkook has to stop them. 

“Not right now,” he clarifies. “Continue with your meal. And don’t stay too late. We’ve got another busy week ahead.”

“Yes, Mr. Jeon,” everyone says in unison.

Jungkook nods and starts walking away, leaving all five of you with confused looks, as Jungkook has never spoken to the team in such a calm and friendly manner. It was always firm and professional, low and stoic. 

You scurry out the room and follow him. Jungkook gives you a questioning look when you enter his office shortly after he does, and you pick up his untouched lunch from the table and inform him that you’ll heat it up, knowing he doesn’t like to eat his food cold. 

You go back to the pantry then return to Jungkook’s room, his beef brisket dish now properly placed in a bowl. He gives you a nod, his form of acknowledgment and thanks, you suppose, and you ask the question you’ve had since his earlier stop at the team’s office.

“Are the edits really just minor?” You wonder, knowing that CEO Jeon is meticulous and quite particular with these board reports. 

Jungkook takes a moment to respond. He should know that you’ve done this a few times and are probably used to how his father is already, which means you’d see right through him as well. 

“Well, they’re not major,” Jungkook says. “I mean, they’re not trivial corrections. The details are all good but I need to change some terminologies and framing and some construction of the sections based on the Board’s current concerns, especially about the Arts Center. They’re not that substantial but it’ll still take me an hour or so.”

“Why did you tell the team that they were minor, then?”

“So they won’t offer to help.”

“But they would. I would,” you tell him. “It’s our job.”

“I was going to ask, but it’s your break time. Everyone was enjoying their meals and each other. First time I’ve seen that, actually. I know it doesn’t happen when I’m around.”

“It’s just that you’re not—”

“Hoseok,” he finishes for you.

“Not someone they’re comfortable being themselves around,” you correct him.

“Yes, not like Hoseok,” he pushes.

“You said it the first day, Mr. Jeon. You do things very differently from your cousin. Your personalities are very different, too. We had him for three years and for Yohan and Do-hyun, he was their first boss,” you explain. “They’re just not used to you yet.”

“What about you? Are you used to me by now?”

There’s sudden tension in the room as he looks at you with the desire for honesty, and it’s what you give.

“I’m not quite sure.”

Jungkook doesn’t really know what he expected, as the question just slipped past his mouth before he could pull it back, so he just nods and proceeds to take his late lunch, wanting to forget that he’d asked at all.

You take this as a signal to head out, which you do, before reminding him that he can ask you for help if he needs another pair of eyes before he submits his part again. Jungkook just nods once more, and it’s later in the day, after the third cup of coffee that you take to his room, that he says his father’s already approved the version he sent after you went through it upon his request. You know that’s just half of what he needs to do though, as he’ll still need to present it to the Board this coming Friday. 

“You may go home, Ms. Cho,” he says after he signs some documents for you. 

“How about you, Mr. Jeon?” You ask. 

It’s been a long day, an extension of an even longer weekend because he’d been at a work event and then reviewed the report as well. 

“I’ll probably stay back and go over the presentation. Maybe practice a little.”

You purse your lips, holding something back.

“Should I not?” He wonders.

“Just thinking that it might be better for you to take a proper rest tonight,” you advise. 

“I’ll think about it. It’s gonna be a tough one on Friday and I want to be prepared.”

“I understand,” you smile. “I’ll go ahead, Mr. Jeon.”

Jungkook holds your gaze for a while before he nods and returns to his screen, going through the presentation slides and the notes he scribbled on his iPad. But try as he might, the graphs and the words just go over his head. 

He does need to rest, he thinks. He hasn’t really taken a break all weekend. His hookup from last night was the only relief he got, but that was to expend all the negative energy from the anxiety and stress, and he realizes that he probably doesn’t know what proper rest is, like what you suggested he have. He wonders if you’ve ever had one, or if it’s something you stopped having ever since you started working for him.

Taking your advice, he heads out. It’s only been 30 minutes and he assumes you’re already on the bus and on the way home. He sits in the passenger seat, letting Mr. Ri’s choice of music fill the car as Jungkook’s mind wanders to you - how you laughed at the team’s antics, how you got them to assure him, how you read him well, how you were patient and helpful, and how you seemed concerned about how tired he’s been. 

He’ll chalk it up to you doing your job and helping him as he asked you to do; he always will. He can’t ever think that any of your actions mean more even if deep down, he wishes they do, only so he knows that you don’t hate him, that you’ve forgiven him for things he never apologized for, that you’ll stay for as long as possible. There’s something about your honesty and calm presence that stabilizes him, that makes him take a pause. 

Jungkook’s worked hard on his career for the past decade and it’s all he focuses on; it’s all he thinks about. But when you’re there, he’s forced to stop and think about you. He’s noticed that just this past week - when you’re around, he listens; when you’re close to him, he breathes. Ironic, really, considering that every time you close the distance - when you fix his tie or look at his screen over his shoulder or help him retrieve portfolios - he remains still, his heart stopping and his throat drying up, afraid to take in your scent or to know just how fast his pulse would race or what words he’d say that he won’t be able to contain. 

He’s afraid to know you, only because what he’ll learn might make him want you. And Jungkook knows that he can’t let himself feel that about you in any way.

He sighs as he looks out the window - cars in line to cross the intersection, people walking to their destination. He thinks he’s hallucinating as he sees your smile, but a bus blocks his view and Mr. Ri steps on the gas. 

Outside, you smile to yourself as you wait in line. You were held up at the lobby because Bitna caught you in the elevator and didn’t want to let you go just yet, so you left the office just minutes ago and were waiting at the bus stop when a familiar car showed up and you saw Jungkook looking out the window. He opted to leave early, too; you can only hope he’ll take your advice and rest tonight. 

But the thought that what you said prompted him to take a pause from work stirs something within. Maybe it’s because he’s finally listening to you, or that it seems like he trusts you now. Whatever it is, for as long as it makes your job bearable, you’re all for it. 

It doesn’t take away from the moments you’ve shared where it seems like the world stops for a bit as you hold each other’s gazes for the shortest of seconds. There’s tension where there shouldn’t be, and there’s something different in his eyes when there used to be disdain, one which you can’t read nor identify. It leaves you still for the briefest of moments, unguarded and a little bare, as he seems to tell you something with just a look and you just don’t know what it is. 

As you find a rare seat in the bus, you let the musings go. Jungkook is a man who holds in him a million thoughts a day and those moments with you seem to be his only reprieve; perhaps they’re also just instances of temporary lags or the rare silence and stoppage of everything. In some odd way, it allows you to see him as the human that he is - exhausted, unsure at times, but seemingly yearning for something. 

There’s always an emotion or a thought or a word that he holds in, and you can only wish - as your relationship with him improves - that whatever it is he’s holding back, he’ll find a way to express it. 

“Do you have any advice for the Board meeting?”

Jungkook slides the question in before Hoseok heads to the elevator and off to an event. They’ve just finished having a check-in with CEO Jeon, who wanted to make sure that the two of them are well-prepared for this Friday, given that presenting during these meetings and contributing to policy and strategy are crucial in their roles as President and Vice President. Jungkook won’t admit that it caused him a bit of anxiety, but he’ll surely take the chance to ask his cousin for tips on how to make sure that he doesn’t screw up.

“I do,” Hoseok answers as he holds off on pressing the button. “Ask your assistant. And then listen to what she says.”

Jungkook visibly sighs. “Hoseok, I mean it.”

“I mean it, too,” the older man replies. “If it’s anything about our strategic plan or policies, just take my lead. And it’s your very first so you’re expected to still be adjusting. If it’s about the presentation, let ___ brief you about it. She’s been with me every single time I had to present. When I was focused on what I had to say, she was focused on how the Board was reacting and how those translated to the questions they eventually asked. She’d know what you’ll need to emphasize on or who you need to be wary of.”

There’s an unsure look in Jungkook’s eyes, and Hoseok knows it isn’t about trusting you. It’s about him.

“You’re scared, aren’t you?” Hoseok asks. “What are you afraid of, Kook?”

“You know what they think of me,” Jungkook sighs. “I don’t want to screw up and give them more reasons to doubt me because they already do. And they’re definitely gonna ask about the Arts Center. What if they bring up my disappointing social skills? I don’t wanna end up feeling inadequate and embarrassing father.”

“Keep thinking that way and you will,” Hoseok huffs. “Look. Our family owns the company. You and I were trained to run it after my sister and your brother decided they didn’t want to. The Board knows this. They’ll either stay in our good graces or plot against us. Your father knows that, too, and that’s why he’s being hard on both of us because he knows what we’ll have to face. That also just means he’ll always be on your side. He’ll always be on ours. The Board could be intimidating but we still hold the power. They’ll impose or question or cast doubt because they want to feel that sense of control. It’ll only affect you if you let them.”

“Okay” is all that Jungkook manages to say, a tinge of resignation on his face as he takes in his cousin’s words.

“You’ve managed worse people than them,” Hoseok assured him. “Just focus, stand by your project, and engage them. Simple as that.”

“Yes, it’s very simple,” Jungkook chuckles with a shake of his head.

“Like I said, your assistant’s there for a reason, Kook. This is when I get to tell you that it’s her job. We would prepare together and debrief right after, and it always helped because she fills in gaps and informs me of things I missed. Trust me. Trust her.”

The thing is, Jungkook does; he doesn’t need to be reminded that he should trust you because he’s learned to do that, despite it seemingly impossible given that you both started off on the wrong foot. It’s the thought of spending more time with you, during a time when he’s still trying to get used to you and how you affect him, that makes him worried about this. But it’s not something he can talk about with Hoseok. It’s not something he can talk about with anyone. 

“Fine,” Jungkook finally says. “I’ll talk to her.”

“Good. I’ll go now. Have dinner at home tomorrow, okay? And I’ll see you when I get back.”

Jungkook waves the older man goodbye and then returns to his office, where he finds you dropping some files off for signing. 

“Payment requests for the event,” you explain, earning you a nod from him as he walks to his seat. “How did the meeting with your father go, Mr. Jeon?”

“As I expected,” he huffs. “A bit of encouragement, more of the pressure. He’d slide in reminders of what the Board thinks of me and how I should present myself.”

“Is the pressure helping?” You ask.

“A little,” he sighs, sinking into his chair and exhaling deeply. He rolls his head back and closes his eyes, allowing himself a few seconds of peace. “But I still need help. Hoseok said I can get it from you.”

“You know, he oversells me sometimes,” you manage to laugh, prompting Jungkook to look at you now. “I know I’m competent. But I don’t know about being your source of help for a Board meeting any more than providing you with data.” Jungkook likes to do things on his own after all, you think to yourself.

“But you’ve been to as many Board meetings as he has.”

“Yes, but only for his presentation.”

“And that’s what I need help with,” he says. “I just need direction, I guess. Or affirmation that how I’m doing it is the right way. Or tips on who to woo or who to not take seriously.”

Jungkook has been to a few Board meetings but he’s never had to present anything. He’s also never had to engage with the members so he didn’t pay much attention to them because he didn’t feel the need to. These appointments were all a few years too early, and while he’d had a critical position in the Southeast Asian headquarters, everything had gone through his uncle who headed the office then. 

This is the first time that Jungkook feels the magnitude of all his decisions, and that every move he makes is being assessed. And even with his father and Hoseok giving him guidance, they have their own teams to manage and an entire company to run, just like him. Somehow, with all the people around him, Jungkook still feels alone. 

You, with your perpetual presence and surprising warmth, are the only one who makes him feel otherwise. And it terrifies him more than anything.

“Well, I’ve picked up a few things along the way,” you hum. “I can maybe go through my notes and share them with you.”

“Good. I’d like to do that over lunch, since I’ll have you and Manager Lee watch me practice the presentation around 2.”

Jungkook picks up the slight fall of your face. “Is that a problem?” He asks. “Did you have lunch plans?”

“Nothing more important than assisting you, Mr. Jeon,” you say, a change of expression indicating that you indeed had prior commitments that you’re putting off because of him. “I’ll inform Manager Lee about meeting with him after.”

You head out and return to your desk to work on your remaining tasks for the morning until lunch time rolls by and you accompany Jungkook to a nearby restaurant as he’d asked. You try not to get too excited about the meal in front of you and then control yourself from letting out orgasmic sounds from the succulent piece of salmon that’s melting in your mouth. This check-in seems too important for Jungkook and you want to support him in any way you can.

“How was Hoseok during his first Board meeting?” Jungkook starts. 

“Nervous, a little rattled. His sister left him behind with a lot of work and she was abroad for most of the time so they weren’t able to meet up,” you share. “But he got up there and presented all the office’s gains for the past months and then explained his plans moving forward. He had all these good ideas on policy and strategy and he articulated them well. He had to take over multiple small projects and he showed how he planned to manage all of them. His charms sort of hid away the anxiety he was feeling and I guess that eventually helped him get rid of it.”

“Well, that’s one thing I can’t claim that I have,” Jungkook sighs. 

He looks at you to see your reaction, and the awkwardness on your face makes him internally laugh.

“I can lie to you if you want me to,” you say, and he chuckles, surprising you both, though he acts like he doesn’t mind.

“I’d actually want you to be as honest with me as possible, Ms. Cho. I don’t want you, of all people, to suck up to me to get on my good graces.”

“Great, since I wasn’t on it in the first place,” you trail, earning you another laugh, and you wish this could at least lessen the pressure he’s putting himself under. 

“That’s true,” he says, holding your gaze. He turns to his food before he gets sucked in your gorgeous eyes even more. “But I mean it. I don’t exactly know how to charm people, much less the Board. I don’t want to add to the narrative they already have of me having terrible social skills. But I also don’t want them to think I’m being fake or pretentious.”

“If I may, you’ll botch that aspect if you keep thinking about it,” you advise. “Perhaps you can just focus on what you’re good at. Delivering a presentation, regardless of what it’s about, is a skill. You have all the information and I can add some more if you’re not confident with them. You also tweaked some existing processes and you can build on it. But also, the Arts Center will definitely be their focus, so talk about it the way you would with your father and the team… and me. You let us envision it with your words and your visuals and those are all you need.”

“Okay then. I’ll just imagine they’re all vegetables or something so I can focus.”

“Mrs. Doi likes making eye contact because she wants to feel like you’re conversing with her,” you say. “Mrs. Seo asks a lot of irrelevant questions but you have to answer as if they’re important. Mr. Ong likes being acknowledged every time he says something or even nods. So I don’t recommend acting as if they’re inanimate. Maybe just with Mr. Wang because he falls asleep in everything, but don’t take it personally. I think it’s a medical condition.”

Jungkook’s amused look encourages you to continue.

“Mr. Mun doesn’t really get design and building terms so you’d have to explain them at least twice. Mr. Bong tends to act all mighty but he doesn’t really know much. Same with Mr. Im and Ms. Hwa. The rest are fine,” you say. “Mr. Saito is very thoughtful. He’s a designer so his insights would be good. Ms. Cheng is unproblematic and overall just supportive. Mr. Yeon is just… there. They’re quite intense when it comes to profits and the company’s image but if you stand by what you know, they won’t really say much.”

“Wow, that’s… that’s a lot to take in. And also very informative,” Jungkook states. “I never noticed any of those.”

“Well, you had your reasons to be in those meetings and maybe you didn’t have a reason to pay attention to them,” you shrug. “I do. I thought it was an added way that I could help Mr. Jung. Assistants are asked to sit on the side of the room so we can be easily signaled for anything and I thought I could use that position to observe the Board members and see how they respond to the presentation. It helped for the succeeding ones and it took the pressure off him in terms of needing to appease them.”

“Makes sense,” Jungkook hums. “Worrying about how they’ll react or what they’ll say is half of the pressure.”

“It is. I couldn’t help Mr. Jung for his first time because it was mine, too, but he picked things up quite easily. He knew who to pay attention to.”

“Well, considering that I don’t seem to be ideal for this relationship-heavy position, I’ll have to pay attention and appease all of them, it seems.”

“If I may, Mr. Jeon, you can take it as a challenge,” you advise, feeling more comfortable in being honest now. “I may be just a humble assistant but I’ve seen things. With all the praises for Mr. Jung - which are deserved, of course - I’ve witnessed his moments of distress, which is perfectly normal for anyone. A-yeong had to remind him of how good he was everyday because he needed that push and it helped him. It also helped that he was trying to prove something and that he was always told that he had all the qualities to do that.”

“Not everyone has a supportive wife like him though. Or like my father,” Jungkook laughs dryly.

“They had supportive assistants,” you offer, trying to be optimistic. “I had to fill-in as Mr. Jung’s sounding board and I was always in awe at his approach to things.”

“Which is very different from mine, I know,” Jungkook says unintentionally, the sigh making you feel like he’s tired of the comparison, and you feel a bit bad at having to seemingly remind him of that.

“And which isn’t bad at all,” you try to assure him. “Just because it’s different, doesn’t mean it’s not right.”

Well, it wasn’t right to treat you the way I did, he wants to say, but the words stay in his head and at the tip of his tongue. 

“That’s… comforting,” he says instead.

“I was trying to be assuring but comforting is fine, too,” you chuckle. “But I mean it, sir. I know there are all these expectations and I won’t be able to truly understand what the pressure is like but if you allow it to challenge you, you might even surprise yourself. And then you’ll end up surprising them, too. But do it for you. At the end of the day, they’re just the Board but you’re the Vice President. And you’re you. You’re all you can control.”

There’s a beat of silence as Jungkook takes in everything you’d said. You have this persistence about you that’s reflected in the way you carry yourself and in the way you relate with others, especially towards him despite how he’d treated you not long ago. Regardless of what you said, he thinks you know exactly what he feels when it comes to dealing with pressure. He supposes that working for his family can do that to someone, especially when it’s him. 

“Such moving words, Ms. Cho,” he finally says.  

“I didn’t mean to give unwanted advice,” you shake your head in disappointment. 

“I needed it though,” he surprises you. “Other than Hoseok or even Yoongi, who are both busy themselves, I only have you as a sounding board. And as support. So, uh, thanks.”

He says his gratitude with a soft tone, almost embarrassingly. You can tell it’s something he doesn’t say that often, but you take it, as you think it’s another step towards him trusting you even more. And you need that trust for now; it’s this peaceful and honest dynamic with him that’s making your job bearable.

Lunch continues with Jungkook asking more questions about some of the Board members and you dishing some dirt on some of them as what you’ve heard in the office washrooms, perhaps the only gossip you don’t take with a grain of salt. He’s amused, and you think this is the most expressive you’ve seen him. 

You proceed to meet with Manager Lee in the conference room where Jungkook goes through each slide presentation, asking both of you for more information he thinks he needs and about how he’s carrying himself, his tone, his pace, and his engagement. It’s good enough for a first run-through, Manager Lee says, and Jungkook decides to dry-run it again on Thursday. 

The rest of your day goes by a little stressfully. There are multiple events that you have to organize and coordinate with other offices, and those are what you work on until you clock out on time.

Jungkook stays behind for only half an hour before deciding he’s had enough of looking through his notes and will return to them tomorrow. He takes the elevator and nods when Yoongi enters.

“Hey,” Jungkook greets. “How are the designs for the Changwon mid-rise?”

“It’s 6:00. I don’t wanna talk about work,” Yoongi whines. 

Jungkook knows this. It’s also why he likes to tease his friend about it. 

“Fine. We can just stand next to each other awkwardly until we have to get off,” Jungkook says.

“Hmm,” Yoongi hums. “Or, we can talk about how my lunch plans changed because someone asked my lunch partner for a meeting.”

The tension immediately rises and Jungkook hates how affected he is by Yoongi’s teasing. 

“Ah, so it was you. Well, she did say it wasn’t as important as what we were meeting about,” Jungkook hits back.

“True. It’s about the Board meeting after all. It’s a pretty big deal.”

Jungkook starts to feel hot all over, as the thought of you and Yoongi conversing about your thwarted lunch plans because of him plays in his head. It’s a mix of frustration and disappointment. While the meeting was in no way confidential, he just hates the idea that it was something you shared with Yoongi. Perhaps it’s just after the fact, considering that Jungkook thinks it was a good lunch. You clearly enjoyed the dish - he could see how you tried to control your reactions to it - and your conversations went by smoothly. You were honest and supportive; he was open and all the more surprised with how well you were able to calm him down. It’s as if someone else was privy to that moment you both shared, even if Yoongi wasn’t there. 

“Huh, I thought you were over her,” Jungkook says, the bitterness slicing through. If his friend picks it up, he doesn’t say anything.

“I am. We were just gonna have lunch at this noodle house because she was craving it,” Yoongi clarifies. “I told you, I’m her only friend here. It’s nice to share a meal with someone who cares about you every once in a while, you know? It’s hard being a working adult and we all need a bit of a break and a companion sometimes. It didn’t mean anything more than that.”

Jungkook chooses not to respond and Yoongi could tell why. There’s this look of annoyance painting the younger man’s face, which makes him a lot more transparent than he wishes he was. 

But Yoongi can see right through his friend. It’s not something he raises though, but he won’t be surprised if Jungkook dwells on this. He just hopes it isn’t to your detriment again.

The ride home wasn’t as terrible last night, and after your elder neighbor gave you some stew because she cooked too much, you had a satisfying dinner and an even more satisfying slumber. 

You feel like the end of the week isn’t too far ahead - although there really isn’t anything exciting for you except for a date with your bed - and you just want to get through all your tasks for the day and get that jjajangmyeon that Yoongi said he’ll get for you today so you can eat it for dinner. You were initially upset at having to pass up on him for yesterday’s lunch, but you’d be the first to admit that sharing that meal with Jungkook was still worthwhile.

Not only was the dish you ordered one of the best things you’ve ever eaten, it was also nice to see Jungkook loosen up a bit after feeling tense all morning because of his presentation. You liked that he’s being open to getting support from you, as it seems that he sees you now as more than just the assistant who’s there to serve him. He seems to appreciate your thoughts and didn’t even act bitterly when you gave him unsolicited advice. You feel even more that your relationship improves daily.

That is, until you enter his penthouse this Wednesday morning with barely a look of acknowledgement from him. Going through your routine, he doesn’t say much; he stays silent the entire ride to the office as well.

When you enter his room to serve his coffee, his furrowed brows have returned and his jaws are clenched as he types away on his desktop.

“Ms. Cho,” he calls out, his voice stern once again. 

You turn around to face him, wondering what has happened since you left the office yesterday.

“Yes, Mr. Jeon?”

“I just wanted to raise that while I understand you have personal relationships with other employees, I do not appreciate you divulging the topics of our meetings with them. Even if they’re my friend as well.”

His last sentence gives away who he’s talking about, and the conversation with Yoongi after you canceled your lunch plans with him rings in your head. 

It was a harmless statement, you want to say; you didn’t share any more than it being a meeting about his presentation. There was no ill-intent in you telling Yoongi why you couldn’t see him for lunch. But you choose to pass up on reasoning with Jungkook. He builds his wall up even more when you do, and you don’t want things to be that way again, not when they seemed to be going okay already these past few days.

So you nod and concede. “I understand, Mr. Jeon, and I apologize. I won’t do it again.”

Jungkook can’t help but just look at you, internally smacking himself as your face falls further and as you, once again, feel far away because of his own stupidity. 

“Is there anything else you need, sir?” 

He shakes his head no, and you bow in response, heading out, with the sadness in your eyes as the last thing he sees. 

Jungkook is unable to focus on his emails and the conference call he takes part in. The words and thoughts are all jumbled when he practices his presentation, as his gaze constantly flits to your spot just outside where you sit, doing your tasks while looking detached and dejected. 

He assumes you didn’t come to work expecting to be called out the way he did with you, which in hindsight, didn’t seem necessary, especially knowing how it’s affecting you right now. Things were going well between both of you after all - he’s being more open and you’re being more comfortable. Information was flowing smoothly, and communication has improved. And he just went ahead and screwed all that up.

Jungkook starts to feel stuffy. He’s been in his office working on things for the Arts Center and practicing most of the day, with you only coming in to bring the lunch he’d asked Mr. Ri to buy and his cups of coffee. You’ve avoided his gaze and haven't said much to him, too. 

He decides to take a walk outside. The outdoor space on this floor has nice benches and a small garden that overlooks the Han River. He’s seen the team eat there sometimes, and while the weather may be a little too hot for it, he’d much rather breathe in the air than his humidifier. 

But as he takes his time to open the door, he hears a familiar voice from outside.

“Fine, if you won’t take the sandwich, at least take the noodles,” Yoongi says. “You’ve been craving that all weekend.”

“Not anymore,” you huff, seemingly annoyed.

“Hey, did I do something wrong?” Yoongi asks, calm and understanding in tone, traits that Jungkook could only hope to have. 

“No… I don’t know,” you sigh. “Just that, whatever I talk to you about or mention, other people don’t need to know them, okay? No matter how harmless they are. Let’s just… not talk about work stuff. Especially in the office. That’s it.”

“Ah, so that’s what this is about.”

“What do you—”

“Mr. Min,” Jungkook calls out, fully opening the door now. “I have design guidelines I need you to go over. I need them by tomorrow morning.”

“Okay, Jungkook,” Yoongi bitterly replies, knowing what’s happened. “Just send them over to me.”

“Ms. Cho will do that right now.”

You nod in acknowledgement of Jungkook’s instruction and remain focused on your desktop. There’s silence in the air and tension that you can’t deal with right now.

“Can I help you with anything else, Mr. Min?” 

“Nah. If I do, I’ll check with your boss first if I can ask you for it. Don’t want you getting in trouble because of me.”

You finally look up at him, a tinge of annoyance painting his face, a rarity since Yoongi doesn’t seem to ever be irate about anything. 

“And I’ll just take this jjajangmyeon if you don’t want it,” he adds, taking the container that’s on the ledge of your desk with him, before walking out of your area.

You can’t help the pout that forms on your lips. You really love that noodle house’s version and you’ve been craving it for days. It’s where you and Yoongi were both supposed to have lunch yesterday but Jungkook spoiled it, and it wouldn’t have mattered as much, until it became a reason for him to be upset with you again. You’re not exactly sure why, but much as you want to question your boss this time, you don’t have the energy for it. It doesn’t seem worth it, but it also doesn’t change the fact that Yoongi might have said something to Jungkook, and that’s a dynamic you’re still unsure how to read or deal with. 

Your gaze shifts to the man himself, who looks less annoyed than he did at the start of the day. You don’t know how his practice has been going, since he hasn’t asked you to run it with him, but you suppose he’s doing alright. He’s been in his room all day doing that and taking calls in between. 

Jungkook looks away and heads out. He lets the summer air clear his mind a little before he goes back inside. It’s 6PM by the time he emerges from his room, surprised at seeing your face still buried in piles of papers.

“Ms. Cho, I’ll be heading to Hoseok’s for dinner,” he says, getting your attention. “Anything that needs my signature or approval can wait tomorrow.”

He hopes you’ll read through his words, as he wishes you’d take a rest yourself, like you advise him to do.

“Finance needs your expense reports first thing tomorrow morning, Mr. Jeon,” you say, a little too stoic than he’s used to. “These can be signed tomorrow when you arrive.”

Jungkook just nods, knowing there’s not much he can do if you don’t want to go home yet. But he does leave you with a reminder.

“Ms. Cho,” he says before leaving. He’s met with curious eyes that he tries not to fall into. “Make sure to eat a proper dinner.”

He walks out too quickly, not wanting to see your reaction.

You’re too tired to react, but that just pushes you to finish all your work and head to the pantry for some biscuits. It’s then that you see the paper bag with a note on it. 

For ___. Do not touch! 

At the back, Yoongi writes, I’m sorry. Here’s a man who knows how to apologize, you think to yourself.

The bowl of jjajangmyeon is inside, as well as a container of gimari. The scent reminds you of how hungry you are, so you heat up the noodles and inhale your dinner as you stand by the table. The empty office and the faint sounds of the air conditioning make you think of how alone you really are - working past your hours on a Wednesday evening, a takeaway meal from a friend you’re pushing away, and a stressful trip back to your empty studio apartment. 

You rarely ever feel lonely. You don’t equate being alone with that specific emotion or state. There’s certainty and clarity you get from being on your own. But on certain days, you let yourself crack a little and be vulnerable. On certain days, you let yourself admit that being alone makes you feel lonely, and that at this precise moment, it’s exactly what you feel. 

You send Yoongi a message of thanks but don’t extend the conversation after he replies. You know it isn’t his fault, and knowing him, he wouldn’t have deliberately said anything that would’ve put you in this position. It could just be Jungkook misconstruing things, but you’ve been caught off guard and you don’t feel like dealing with anyone right now. 

Resuming your work, you do your last review of the expense report and leave it on his desk for his signature in the morning - a struggle considering how messy it is, which is also a rarity, as he always likes to keep things organized. You can tell how stressed he is just by this, and the thought hits you again that it’s the Board meeting in two days, and he needs you to be your best for him; he needs you to be calm and stable for him. 

Whatever you’re feeling can be pushed to the side until next week. You’ll talk to Yoongi after all this is over, you tell yourself; it’s more important that you focus on your tasks and just act as professionally and as unbothered as possible. 

That proves to be easy early the next morning. You go about preparing Jungkook’s day in his penthouse, going over your coordination and organization of the upcoming events and acting as if what happened yesterday doesn’t bother you, with him not acting out of the ordinary, too. It’s easy when you get to the office as well. He signs off on the expense reports and you go to finance with only minimal clarifications needed.

But when you return to your desk and Jungkook calls you to his room, you feel the tension start to build as you find Yoongi seated on the chair, his face turning sullen at the sight of you. 

You nod at him but look away immediately, shifting your gaze towards Jungkook. 

“What can I help you with, Mr. Jeon?”

“Deciding on the pieces to be displayed in the event halls of the Arts Center,” he replies. “Artist Lee Jaemin gave us her portfolio for us to choose from. And I’d like you and Yoongi to work on it together before lunch.”

This prompts you to look at Jungkook in surprise. He just told you off about the things you told Yoongi - which, to your defense, wasn’t even anything substantial - and now he’s making you work with the man.

“What about the run through of your presentation, sir?” You ask.

“I’ll do it with Manager Lee. His feedback will be adequate,” Jungkook replies. “I need your options because I’ll be speaking with her tonight about the chosen pieces.”

“I…, uh,” you stutter. “In what way can I be of help, Mr. Jeon? Wouldn’t Mr. Min be enough to make those decisions?”

“You hold the budget, Ms. Cho,” he reminds you. “We need to make sure we follow it. And you and Mr. Min understand my vision more than anyone and I need both of you to bring that to life with those artworks. I’m packed with meetings today so I don’t have time to sort through all of them. I trust that you’ll make the best decisions.”

“Of course we will, Jungkook,” Yoongi says, a bit of bitterness laced in it. “___ and I work well together. It isn’t the first time.”

Jungkook merely nods, and you feel the tension build up even more as both men share hardened looks that you can’t particularly decipher. 

“I… I’ll go ahead and prepare the conference room. I shall see you there shortly, Mr. Min.”

You exit the office and breathe a sigh of relief from being out of there. You don’t know what their friendship is like, so you’re unsure if the tension is a sign of something serious or if it’s just a normal thing for them. You choose to brush it off for now and prepare for the meeting, walking to the pantry for a cup of tea before you do. 

Back inside, both men remain unmoving, their gazes not faltering away from each other. Yoongi’s look of displeasure is a contrast to Jungkook’s somber, almost guilty face. 

“Driving a wedge between us is kind of an asshole move, you know?” Yoongi finally says. “I don’t know what your deal is but this isn’t how you make it up to her. You don’t get to be nice one day then just decide you’ll be jealous and irrational the next without her even knowing what she did.”

“That’s… that’s not what I was trying to do,” Jungkook reasons. 

“Then what were you trying to do?” Yoongi scoffs. “I was the one she turned down to have lunch with you. Actually, it was her plan, because she’s been spending so much time alone and she just wanted to hang out with a friend. And not only did you hinder that, you also made her feel like she did something wrong when all she said was that you had to talk about the Board meeting. No one would even bat an eye. Now she can’t even talk to me properly without fearing it’ll hurt your fragile ego.”

The truth is a huge slap on Jungkook’s face, and he feels it sting. He’s seen your comfort around his friend a few times. He also knows that Yoongi has been looking out for you when you fail to take care of yourself. And because of that jealousy and his fragile ego, you might just end up pushing Yoongi away, and isolating you is the last thing Jungkook wants to do.

He tries to say something but his throat dries up, knowing that verbalizing anything would prompt him to face feelings he’s trying so hard to suppress. He hopes Yoongi sees right through him, and the sullen look of the older man says he might.

“You’re not a bad person, Jungkook,” Yoongi says. “I don’t know what about her makes you like this. But if all you’ll do is find fault in everything she does, you’re gonna lose all the progress in your relationship. And you've got to know that’s not fair to her. You know she doesn’t deserve that.”

“She doesn’t.”

It’s the way Jungkook says the words that Yoongi knows his friend regrets what he’d done, perhaps not just yesterday but the other times as well. There’s this emptiness in Jungkook’s eyes that Yoongi hasn’t seen before; he doesn’t want the younger man to drown and lose himself in it.

“I’m… I’m, uh—”

“I know,” Yoongi interjects, knowing how hard it is for Jungkook to verbalize what he feels. “And I forgive you. I suggest you find the words and say them to her. Yeah?”

Jungkook merely nods, knowing that would be difficult for him, not because he won’t mean it but because they mean so much more. With you, it always does. 

“I’ll head to meet with her now.”

“Please fix it,” Jungkook almost pleads. “I think she needs you.”

Yoongi gives a look of understanding then heads out to the conference room where he finds you seated already. The lights are dim, allowing him to see Lee Jaemin’s art pieces projected on the wall. You’re focused on your laptop screen, not budging even as he opens the door and sits next to you.

“Are you still mad at me?” Yoongi asks, urging you to look at him.

“No,” you say softly.

“Then why do you act like you still are?” He asks sullenly. “You know I’m sorry.”

“It isn’t your fault though,” you reply, finally turning to him, your own soft eyes mirroring his. “You shouldn’t be apologizing.”

“But I want to. Because I know it matters that you hear the words even if they’re not from the person who needs to be saying them.”

“You know he doesn’t do that,” you sigh, knowing exactly who he means.

“He’ll have to learn how to. Or just stop having a reason to apologize in the first place.” 

“We’ll see about that,” you shrug. “But I’m sorry, too. I just didn’t know how to act yesterday and earlier. I just didn’t want any more drama.”

“I know, and it’s okay. It’s not your fault either. I had to call him out for it.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. I called him an asshole.”

“You–what?”

“Well, sort of. He had to hear it, and it seemed like he knew it, too. That's why he wanted me to fix things. Not that anything was broken, as far as I know.”

“Is that why he made me meet with you?”

“Yes, about something that he and I could easily do over coffee or a meal,” Yoongi chuckles. “But like I told you before - he tries. It’s usually just a misstep or something more complicated than actually saying sorry.”

“It’s hard for him to say, I guess. Maybe he just has his own ways of saying them.”

“It’s still not an excuse to be an asshole though.”

“At least you’re there to call him out for it,” you chuckle.

Yoongi laughs along, knowing it’s a role in Jungkook’s life that he wouldn’t mind taking. And just like that, the tension between the two of you is gone. He throws in a few jokes in there that take seconds for you to process, and it’s his crinkled smile that makes you smile and feel comfortable as well. It’s the icebreaker you need before getting to work, and it takes you both until lunchtime to decide on which of Lee Jaemin’s pieces you think would fit well in the event halls that Jungkook wants to put them in. 

It’s a different experience for you, as you’ve never made decisions like this before. You wouldn’t say you’re artistic in any sense, but Yoongi’s approval of your choices and agreement with your reasoning make you feel that you aren’t as design-blind as you think. And while Jungkook has the final say - you’re not even sure if your choices would make the final cut - it’s still satisfying to see the empty spaces come to life on your screen with artworks that you chose with Yoongi, while still being within budget.  

You both walk back to your work area where you see Manager Lee, and he tells you that Jungkook seems ready for tomorrow’s Board meeting. You enter his office with Yoongi, presenting what you’ve come up with - the greens and pinks common in her pieces give the room so much life, and the imperfections of her subjects leave viewers with much to admire. From the tropics to intimacy, the bright yet muted palette of the images elicits both joy and loneliness.

Jungkook goes through them while you and Yoongi look on.

“I’ll check each piece again later,” Jungkook says. “But these look good; I’d choose these myself.”

“___ chose most of them,” Yoongi says, earning him a glare from you.

“Is that so, Ms. Cho?” Jungkook asks.

“Mr. Min helped. And those pieces just spoke to me, I guess,” you answer shyly. “They’re beautiful pieces, Mr. Jeon. But I don’t have any arts or design background so please feel free to change them.”

“We’ll see,” he says, looking at you with a kind of affirmation that you’re not used to. 

You nod in response and check the time. He’s got another meeting in an hour and he should be having lunch soon.

“What would you like to eat, Mr. Jeon? I can get it for you,” you say.

“No need. I asked Mr. Ri to get me something. I figured you might have lunch plans,” Jungkook responds, glancing at you and then Yoongi. 

You look at the man next to you, who motions towards the door and you get what he means immediately. 

“Okay, Mr. Jeon. I’ll go take my break now.”

You walk out with Yoongi who asks you what you’re craving, and sweet and sour pork comes to mind. He chuckles at your excited face, and you grab your purse and head out, turning back once to catch Jungkook watching you walk away.

Maybe this is his apology. In whatever form it is, you’ll take it. You find sometimes that the silence in place of words means a lot more, in ways that feel more. 

The rest of your afternoon again feels like a blur, as you meet with the support team about the upcoming events and make sure everyone is on the same page. You spend an hour on the phone with Lucas about some Singapore and Malaysia-based Korean artists who are flying for the project launch in a few weeks while Jungkook goes from one virtual meeting to another. 

It’s 5:30 before you know it, and you’re working on your spreadsheets when Jungkook walks out of his office, saying that he’s meeting with Lee Jaemin later in the evening and that he’ll just update you about the final pieces. 

You acknowledge him and wish him goodbye, but he stops on the way, at the entrance towards the hallway, making sure he remains present while unable to see you.

“Ms. Cho,” he calls out, surprising you.

“Yes, Mr. Jeon?”

“About what I said yesterday, I apologize,” he says, almost stuttering. “Especially if it caused a rift between you and Yoongi. I didn’t intend that.”

You’re too shocked to say anything, much more process the words that you can’t believe he’s saying. But he really is apologizing; he really is trying.

“It… it’s okay, Mr. Jeon. I understand.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you’re left to observe him from this angle - jaws clenched, head bowed down. 

He deeply exhales. “I’ll go now. No need to stay late; you can go home when you’re able.”

“Okay, sir. Have a good night.”

He finally leaves, and the silence engulfs you. Sometimes, words in any form truly matter. You could only hope that Jungkook knows that.

The suit that you choose for Jungkook for today’s big day is a dark gray textured piece. He looks immaculate as he stands before you, and you try your best to even your breathing as you fix his tie like you do every morning. There’s something about him today that makes him more handsome than usual - a quality that you’ve found yourself admitting and accepting more easily as the days go by. He exudes a certain kind of confidence and power with his attire and his parted hair. There’s determination in his eyes as he stands tall, ready to face the day. 

And you’re there, admiring the way he carries himself just inches away.

You fix the collar of his suit and make sure that all creases are flattened. You meet his eyes and the confidence melts away a little.

“Do I look respectable enough?” He asks, a little less serious than you expected. It’s when you see the nervousness in his eyes that you know how important today is for him.

“Yes,” you assure him. “You also look ready to impress the Board members with your presentation and get them on your side. I’m sure your vision about the Arts Center will make them believers.”

“Ah, well, that’s asking for too much, I guess,” he laughs dryly. “But I was on the call with Lee Jaemin last night and she was so excited for the launch. It would get her to visit Seoul often, she said, and that made me realize that artists like her and the consumers, the ordinary people, the ones who the Center is for - they’re the ones who matter. It’s their interest and appreciation that I value, not the Board’s.”

“That’s a good realization to come to, then, Mr. Jeon,” you smile, suddenly feeling like you’re seeing a different man - someone who cares about meaning and the power of art. “I suppose if that’s your mindset coming into the meeting, then you’ll definitely do well.”

“I think if there’s at least one other person who ends up believing in the value of the Center, that would be enough for me,” he says, holding your gaze for a while before turning away. “But uh, today is more than that. You and I both know they’re there to assess my capabilities - social and otherwise - and definitely point out what I lack, or probably tell me I’m not cut out for this job or that I’m terrible or something. I mean, you would know, right?”

His eyes, focused downward, slowly shift to you. You know what he means, and given that he isn’t the type to admit to things, this is probably the only other time that he comes close to acknowledging how he was to you.

“Mr. Jeon, if you’re indeed terrible, I would have quit after a week. Or… well, after the second day,” you admit. 

“Why didn’t you?”

“Well, I couldn’t afford to,” you chuckle to ease the tension. “But also I… I saw the change. And that’s always a good thing. Lacking something is normal. We all have things we need to work on but that doesn’t make us terrible people. That just means we need a bit of understanding from others. And that also means we just have to keep trying to be better.”

There’s a sullenness in Jungkook’s eyes but there’s acceptance and understanding, too. Perhaps it’s the most sincere you’ve seen him look, and of all the days that he needs assurance about how he’s been, today is when he needs it the most. Sure, there are still things about him that you wish he’d work on. He’s still not the best person in the world. He could still be a bit impulsive with you and can sometimes be irrational in your eyes and definitely needs work on dealing with his emotions. But he’s trying. That always counts for something.

“We do,” he nods.

“Your father believes in you. Hoseok believes in you, so does Yoongi.” Holding his gaze, you add, “so do I. So trust in yourself. If you can’t do it for you, you can do it for us.”

“Is giving pep talks part of the job description?” 

“It should,” you giggle. “But I’ve given several of them to Mr. Jung. I’ve learned that during stressful moments or just when we’re a little overwhelmed, it makes a difference to hear the things we already know from someone else.”

“I’m a little stubborn, but I hope you continue doing that for me. For as long as you think I deserve it.”

Jungkook doesn’t know where the honesty and vulnerability are coming from. But he’s found that with you, it’s natural - difficult because they’re things he rarely is around other people, but natural. He doesn’t want to question it anymore for fear of learning what else is instinctive for him when it comes to you. But with the way his insides melt with how you sweetly and assuringly smile at him, he realizes that his defenses against you are not that strong to begin with.   

“Well, we don’t have time to pass by a cafe for a nice breakfast so I asked Mr. Ri to get some instead,” you announce, changing the subject now. 

You walk towards the dining room where he follows, and you present a spread of pastries, walnut tarts, and sausage rolls alongside a large cup of coffee. 

“I don’t really eat before a big meeting,” he says, frowning a little. “I’m sure Lucas told you that.”

“He did, but I’m a little stubborn, too,” you counter. “Breakfast is important before a big meeting, Mr. Jeon. It’ll help you focus, even if that’s just one tart or half a danish or a quarter of a roll. Eating will improve your energy levels and lift your mood. It might help ease your nerves somehow.”

“Fine, but I’ll just have half a roll.”

“No worries. You can always eat some more throughout the day,” you say.

Jungkook ends up finishing the entire roll and a walnut tart, while you finish a danish and settle for tea. You pack up what’s left, and he instructs you to give the rest to the team. 

The car ride is quiet, save for the gentle sound of his pencil gliding through the pages of his leather notebook. He seems to be channeling his energy in a way that allows him to be calm, you think, and that’s a good thing. 

You arrive at the building and Jungkook goes straight to his office while you excuse yourself to go to the conference room to help the other assistants prepare it. You don’t see Jungkook until an hour later when he enters, and you lead him to his seat then serve his coffee afterwards. It gets busy quickly as the Board members arrive, and you help in ushering them to their seats and catering to their needs. Before you know it, the assistants are heading out, leaving them and the executives to discuss confidential matters that none of you are required to know.

It’s another two hours before the presentations start, but Jungkook won’t go until after lunch. So you settle in your desk and work on various things, unable to fully focus because your mind constantly goes to him. 

This is normal, you convince yourself; you had the same nervous energy for Hoseok the first time he did this. But then again, it was your first time, too. Perhaps it’s knowing how much it means to Jungkook and his own worries that makes you feel uneasy.

You understand the feeling of wanting to prove oneself, and not always being able to fully express that desire to others. He’s been honest with you recently, and sometimes it can feel quite isolating when no one is there to share the burden, which is why you’ve been trying to cheer him up and encourage him, in hopes that he’ll feel supported, that whatever happens today, he knows he has you on his side.

You proceed to the function hall for the catered lunch where you meet Jungkook. He shares the table with Hoseok and Bitna, as well as Ji-woo and her assistant, and you engage in conversation with them like old times. 

Jungkook watches you speak to his cousins casually but respectfully, and he doesn’t miss the inside jokes and personal details that you all share. You still look a little reserved, but there’s this comfort in the way you express yourself around people who trust and care for and respect you. 

He’s always known Hoseok and Ji-woo to be great with the employees, and a part of Jungkook envies that they’re able to just share parts of themselves with others, that they’re able to expend their time and energy being around them, something that’s always been difficult for him. He likes his privacy, likes his own space; he revels in the silence to battle the noise in his head. He’s protective of his thoughts and his feelings; he’s particular with who uses his time and energy on; he keeps his distance because it’s always easier - to not be involved, to not be invested, to not be known at all rather than be judged because of what people know. 

He also thinks it’s quite isolating. Outside of his family - whom he keeps his distance from as well - the only person who knows him enough is Lucas, but it’s as shallow as just knowing his preferences and his technical opinion on things, not his dreams or fears or everyday thoughts and emotions. 

Jungkook isn’t someone that people go to for advice or for encouraging words; he’s not someone that people ask about how he’s doing; he’s not a person that others seek for comfort or warmth. He’s just a man who does his work, that people serve, that people want approval from for their own gains. He’s not someone they’d go through lengths for. He just takes up space that others orbit around but he’s not the center of their world; he isn’t anybody’s.

“Is everything okay, Mr. Jeon?” You disrupt his thoughts. “Is there anything you want?”

“Chocolate milk,” he says too quickly. “Uh, only if there is.”

“Hot?”

“Yes.”

You call the server and ask if they have any, but the man says they don’t, so you decide to head to one of the stalls at the food hall downstairs.

“You don’t have to,” Jungkook says, pulling your wrist in reflex as you stand up.

You’re caught off guard and so is he, and he immediately lets go and apologizes for it. The guilt in his eyes is similar to the one you saw at the restaurant when you’d admitted that he made you feel uncomfortable, and something about it makes you feel moved. 

“I mean, uh, it’s okay. It’s not urgent,” he adds, looking away.

“If it’ll help, then I should get it for you, Mr. Jeon,” you insist. “It won’t take long. I’ll be back before lunch ends.”

You don’t wait for a response and head out, leaving Jungkook with curious looks from his cousins.

“So, I see you’ve warmed up to her already,” Ji-woo hums, smiling. 

“You could say that,” Jungkook shrugs, acting nonchalant.

“Well, it’s about time you did,” Ji-woo shakes her head. “She works incredibly hard and she’s very reliable.” At the younger man’s nod in agreement, she adds, “you just had to give her a chance. There’s a reason why uncle and Hoseok wanted her around for you.”

“I guess,” Jungkook hums. “She’s… she’s a good person. I don’t really know if I deserve that but she is to me. She’s required to be, I suppose.”

“Or she sees you as a human being who needs a bit of warmth and joy in his life,” Ji-woo suggests. “Kindness goes a long way, you know? She’s said before that there are people who have extended it to her and maybe she’s just doing that, too.”

“Or maybe she sees something in you,” Hoseok says now. 

“Like what?” Jungkook scoffs, knowing himself that after he’s treated you, there’s no way you’d see something in him, whatever that is.

“Like an emptiness, or yearning. Something she feels, too,” Hoseok responds. “Maybe she’s unknowingly making you feel something that she wants to feel herself, you know? I had A-yeong, my sister, my parents, my friends... Seeing her now with you, she didn’t pay attention to my every need the way she’s doing now, and that’s not a criticism of her. Perhaps she just knew that I had other people to do that.”

“And I’m the lonely, single, friendless man that she’s stuck with,” Jungkook laughs dryly, although he’s not offended. Deep down, he knows it’s true.

“Sort of,” Hoseok chuckles. “But what I really mean is that she knows what it’s like to not have someone to look after her like that. You may think it’s just her job but I think it’s her not wanting you to feel like there’s no one there for you. Maybe if you see it that way, you wouldn’t think you don’t deserve it. Then you can accept it and maybe you can do the same.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Jungkook counters, given that keeping his distance is exactly what he plans to do because any closer would just lead him down a path that he won’t be able to escape from.

“It’s not that deep,” Ji-woo says. “I think what my brother is saying is that it’s okay to be friends, you know? Or just allow her to be nice to you and then return the favor. It’s a much better dynamic. I mean, I’m sure he’s told you but things are just gonna be more challenging down the road, once you’re past the adjusting phase. You’ll need her like you’ve never needed anyone before. I do mean that professionally, but that also requires a kind of relationship where you know and trust and respect each other. It goes both ways.”

Jungkook takes in his cousins’ words, knowing that they speak from experience, and they’ve been doing this longer than he has. He already knows he needs you. That itself terrifies him. He also knows he has to rely on you, and maybe that entails allowing you to care for him in ways that no one - not since Chaerin, at least - has ever done before. That means letting you come close, allowing you to know him, letting you be there for him. Doing the same for you isn’t a question of whether he wants to or not - he’ll probably be denying it to his grave, but it’s about whether he can remain within the boundaries he set for himself, knowing already how you affect him without even doing much. 

The thought gives Jungkook a headache, but it’s not something he can give attention to right now. He’s got a presentation to do in less than an hour. He’ll be scrutinized and questioned and probably judged and then he realizes it again - he needs you through all that. He already knows you’ll be encouraging and supportive; you’ve shown that in the past week especially, and he’s appreciated and hated every single moment of it.

The hurried footsteps signal that you’re back, and you take your seat next to him.

You’re panting as you place the cup on the table. “Here you go, Mr. Jeon. I’m not sure if it’s as milky as you want it but the really good cafe downstairs said it should be good. Oh and uh, wrap your hands around it,” you instruct, earning you a curious look. “Your hands are very cold.”

Jungkook does as you say, feeling the warmth of the drink through his skin, even more when he takes a sip and finds that it tastes just as he wanted. 

“This is good. Thank you,” he utters, not wanting to meet your eyes.

You exhale a sigh of relief. You know how he has particular tastes and you just went with a hot chocolate even if he specifically said he wanted chocolate milk. There’s a brand he likes from Lucas’ list and you didn’t have time to actually get it or even store the office pantry with it - which you realize now you should do, and you make a mental note of doing an inventory so you could request for more of the things he likes later on.

“You’re welcome,” you reply. “I… I hope it helps for the presentation. Or the nerves. Or just in general.”

“It has,” he confirms, humming with every sip.

Not long after, everyone is instructed to head back to the conference room so the meeting can resume. You take your seat with the other assistants at the side after you’ve ensured that the presentation is ready while Jungkook heads to the front. You watch him go through his notes a final time, and when he sets them aside and looks up, his eyes find yours.

They’re still tainted with worry, you can tell even from several feet away. So you give him a comforting smile, knowing it’s what he needs. You gently nod and give him a double thumbs up as if to say that he can do it, and he nods back, as if to say that he’ll do his best.

And that’s exactly what he does.

The presentation goes for a quarter of an hour, and while he does give a good rundown of the achievements of the past three months, it’s his pitch of the Arts Center that really makes him shine. The visuals are good to begin with. He did those blueprints himself and the designs give life to his vision, but he explains every aspect of the project with just enough detail to enable the audience to imagine how it looks and what it makes them feel. He took into consideration earlier worries about profits and brand reputation, as well as anticipated questions and points of attack, so he goes ahead and addresses them to the point that he can’t be scrutinized for anything that’s lacking. He keeps in mind the qualities of each Board member, so he makes eye contact if he needs to and acknowledges side comments and builds on them. 

He’s definitely added more - and improved - since that first runthrough you did with him, and he looks very confident and very respectable. You can tell that he values not just profits but art itself - its creation, its appreciation, and the various ways it can be experienced. As someone who yearns for that kind of passion for something, seeing him like this is quite moving. 

It doesn’t help that he looks as good as he does standing up there, and it’s a thought you let yourself have before dispelling it quickly. 

He gets approving nods from most of the Board members. The rest still look a bit doubtful, but you suppose they wouldn’t directly criticize Jungkook and his plans in front of everyone after a presentation like that. You also take a peak at CEO Jeon who’s unable to hide how proud he is of his son. Hoseok and Ji-woo exchange smiles as well. But Jungkook remains focused, ready to answer any questions or comments from the Board.

Mr. Mun is the first to commend him and doesn’t ask much. Mr. Im surprisingly praises Jungkook after admitting his reservations, and Mr. Saito, as you expected, asks clarificatory questions that just builds on what was earlier presented. Jungkook’s readiness and creativity are highlighted as well, and you can tell that the older man is extremely excited for this project. 

The hour is up before you know it, with only minimal questions and a few comments from the attendees. Ji-woo and Hoseok raise points to help with marketing and earning profit, and you take note of all those for discussion and debriefing next week. 

Jungkook thanks everyone before returning to his seat, and you see the breath he lets out after, seemingly glad that that’s at least over. You catch his attention again, and you can’t help your smile. He acknowledges you with a nod, and he turns his focus towards Hoseok as the next presenter. The afternoon goes by like this, with Ji-woo going last and CEO Jeon closing out the meeting. 

There’s some time before the fellowship dinner, which is spent with side conversations and check-ins. Mr. Saito goes to Jungkook right away and you see the latter’s face light up a little, although you don’t miss the sniffing and the throat clearing that he does. You think that his cold hands earlier weren’t due to his nervousness; perhaps the last month has finally caught up to him because you truly believe that this man does not rest. 

You head out to return to your desk, knowing you’ve got several things to do before the dinner that assistants are invited to. You fly through your notes from earlier and some administrative tasks before heading back to the event hall where you find Jungkook talking to Mrs. Seo and Mr. Ong this time, two people who’d most likely be critical of him so you’re glad that he’s at least forging some relations, if their animated way of speaking is any indication. 

You see him excuse himself to head to the washroom, and you take this time to order a cup of ginseng tea for him. It arrives just as he returns to his seat, and when it registers why you’d ordered it, he nods and mumbles his thanks.

“If I may, perhaps you shouldn’t stay long, Mr. Jeon,” you suggest. “It’s been a tiring week and you need to rest.”

Jungkook hates being told what to do, but he’s also never had someone tell him to rest because he needs it, much less even know that he’s not feeling alright. 

“I need to engage with the Board,” he reasons. “I’m sure that’s what father would like. I can rest during the weekend.”

“Okay, sir,” you sigh, knowing he’s also right. Perhaps he’s accepted that this is a critical part of his new role as Vice President. “Just let me know if there’s anything more that I can help you with.”

“I will.”

You sit at the table where the other assistants are, engaging in hushed conversations as you talk about the Board members and how tired you all are. It’s nice being around them, as you all share the experience of stress and isolation, of knowing too much sometimes, of security and stagnancy. They know what you’re going through, partially at least - unlike you, they have people to go home to and proper hobbies that excite them. They have loved ones close by and things they look forward to during the weekends. So while they do make you feel understood, you also can’t help but be a bit jealous. 

Your thoughts are suspended when Bitna offers to take you home. It’s well past 9 and you’re not keen on staying longer to drink with the rest of the big bosses here. You glance at Jungkook who has a wine in hand, clearly trying his best to keep up with the conversations he’s a part of. He looks incredibly tired - much more than usual - and you feel bad that this isn’t something you can help him with. 

You take Bitna’s offer and you both head to your respective bosses to bid your goodbyes. Jungkook nods and mentions his meeting with the artist last night that he says he’ll discuss with you on Monday. There’s more you want to say, but you worry he’ll think you’re nagging about his health - which, you remind yourself, is also part of your job - and you don’t want to end the week on a sour note. 

Jungkook watches you leave the event hall and he immediately feels your absence. Even when you spent much of your time apart, he could feel you there, partly because of the ginseng tea that you ordered for him twice at your insistence and partly because the knowledge that you’re around is enough. And now you aren’t, and he suddenly can’t stand any more of the socializing he has to do. 

But he powers through it for another hour. When he bids his father goodbye, the older man commends him for his presentation earlier and the way he handled himself throughout the fellowship dinner. It’s assuring, but he knows there’s so much more work to be done so he doesn’t revel in it any longer than a few seconds. 

The drive home is quiet. His soft groans as he massages his temples are the only sounds in the car. When he arrives at his empty penthouse, he grabs a bottle of whiskey from the counter and sits on the couch - a glass in hand, necktie and buttons undone, feet on the coffee table, and head rolled back as he reminds himself that he survived the day, that he did a good job, and that he changed some of the Board members’ minds about him. 

And much as he tries to keep away the image of you, he’s unable to - there you were in the room, on his side, cheering him on. He didn’t miss the satisfied smile on your face once he finished his presentation, nor your look of worry after the ginseng tea was placed on the table. 

You’re just good at that - making him feel like someone looks out for him, that someone else minds that he succeeds, that someone cares that he’s not well and that he should rest. 

The smile on his face fades once he’s reminded that you’re supposed to do all that, and that he isn’t anyone special, nor should he be. It’s the thought that keeps him behind the lines - you’re unattainable in so many ways, yet he’s also glad that you are. It’s easier to be mindful of his place like that; it’s easier to accept that you’re you and he’s him, and it’s easier to do his job when he knows you’re just doing yours.

At least, that’s what he hopes. 

But when he gets a call from reception the next morning about a package that you dropped off, all that wishful thinking seems pointless. And as he stares at the bowl of chicken noodle soup in front of him, all his thoughts from the night before come crashing down.

Why is everything so hard when it comes to you?

Series Masterlist

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[kashverse]

happy birthday to the goat.....!!!! getoo suguruuu!!!

birthdays are a special occasion, but when it’s your fiancé suguru’s birthday, it’s a full-blown event. gifts? top-tier. dinner? already reserved at his favorite restaurant. romance? obviously. however, this year, suguru had one specific request that turned the night into a logistical nightmare.

he wanted to bring satoru.

your ridiculously white, obnoxiously spoiled retriever—who had bright blue eyes and a penchant for stealing your fiancé’s attention whenever possible. "he's a part of the family," suguru had reasoned earlier that day, scratching satoru behind the ears as the dog dramatically collapsed into his lap. "and he loves me."

"he loves inconveniencing me," you muttered, watching satoru flop over with a huff. suguru smirked. "sounds familiar."

and that’s how you ended up at dinner date night with suguru and your 75-pound, attention-seeking furry third wheel sitting at your feet, dressed in a stupid little bow tie suguru had personally picked out. the night started fine. candles, good wine, romantic atmosphere. suguru, as always, looked unfairly good in a dark button-up, sleeves rolled up, hair tied back but with a few strands loose. it should’ve been the perfect evening. should’ve. but satoru had other plans.

phase 1: ultimate betrayal

as soon as your food arrived, you felt it—a large, furry weight leaning against suguru’s chair. you glared.

“satoru.”

the dog stared back. unbothered. unrepentant. 

"he just wants love," suguru defended, reaching down to scratch satoru’s chin. satoru had the audacity to wag his tail smugly, tongue lolling out in triumph. you raised a brow.

“he just wants to steal my fiancé.” suguru chuckled, not denying it. "maybe he knows something you don't."

"excuse me?"

"maybe i'm his boyfriend first."

before you could argue, satoru let out a pathetic, theatrical sigh and nudged his massive head onto suguru’s lap. your jaw dropped. 

"oh, you manipulative little—”

“he’s just a baby,” suguru cooed, betraying you on his own birthday. satoru barked in agreement.

phase 2: sabotage

you tried to reclaim suguru’s attention several times. each time, satoru outmaneuvered you.

• attempt #1: reaching for suguru’s hand? blocked by satoru forcing his giant head in between. • attempt #2: feeding suguru a bite of your dish? intercepted by satoru suddenly sitting up, bumping the table. • attempt #3: leaning in to whisper something romantic? interrupted by a loud huff as satoru flopped onto his side like he had been personally victimized.

"this is ridiculous," you huffed, crossing your arms. suguru, clearly amused, swirled his wine. “jealous?” you scoffed. 

"of my own dog?"

"you sound jealous."

you did. and you hated it. satoru, who absolutely understood everything, let out another smug sigh and laid his head directly on suguru’s lap. “okay,” you muttered, glaring at him. “this means war.”

phase 3: the truce (bribery edition)

your opportunity came with dessert. you had ordered carrot cake. satoru, as a man of sophisticated palate, also loved carrot cake. when the plate arrived, you seized the moment. “satoruuu,” you called sweetly, slicing off a tiny, dog-safe piece. his ears perked up immediately.

“oh, now you’re interested in me?” you snarked. satoru wagged his tail enthusiastically, shameless. you smirked, placing the piece on a napkin and holding it hostage. 

“listen, if you agree to chill for the rest of the night and let me have my moment with my fiancé, you get this. deal?”

satoru, brilliant strategist, expert negotiator, pawed your knee in acceptance. "good boy." you handed him the cake, watching as he inhaled it in one bite.

suguru chuckled. “you really just bribed our dog.”

“he started it.”

satoru, apparently satisfied with the transaction, curled up beside your chair instead of suguru’s for the first time that evening. suguru leaned over, pressing a lazy, amused kiss to your temple. "you’re unreal."

“i have to be,” you sighed. “otherwise i’d be single.”

he chuckled, lacing his fingers with yours under the table. satoru, content and full of cake, let out a deep sigh and settled in. peace, at last.

[ruruumin]

the light of kshahrewar's sister

₊˚ ᗢ canon! alhaitham x kaveh's sister! reader.

⤷ if there is one thing kaveh wishes most, its that his sister does not date alhaitham.

the first time alhaitham met you was when you transferred into his class. having started in kshahrewar like your older brother, you decided to transfer to being a haravatat student. it might give you a great change of pace from your family’s insistence on keeping the tradition alive. the silver-haired boy said nothing to you during your first week, only brushing shoulders with you on the occasion when your professor had you seated right next to each other. for the majority of your first year, you hardly talked to the man, let alone knew he existed.

it wasn’t until kaveh graduated at the top of his class that you and alhaitham finally gave each other a warm welcome. alhaitham chose the humble occupation of a scribe while you chose to be a desert researcher for ancient runes. the two of you hardly saw each other after your graduation. but when you stopped by to visit kaveh, it didn’t take long for you to find out that the two of them were living together. 

to the blond’s horror, you and he hit it off quite well. with your professionalism and alhaitham’s stoicism, the two of you were a match made in heaven when it came to academics. you handled all the artistic elements and research while he focused on the calculations and logistics. you were paired together quite often. mainly because alhaitham was not the friendliest of students. and the only person who could truly tolerate him is you. 

your older brother cannot say the same. you, his charming little sister, who might have also tormented him as a child, should not be with his roommate! to think you’d get so chummy with alhaitham out of all people sent shivers down his spine. this was worse than any horror movie he watched as a kid.

while you may be indifferent, he was aloof. these were completely different things! you were a perfect angel and he's some kind of boar that came out of the pits itself. tighnari and cyno can believe it though.

they've seen the longing looks alhaitham has sent you. they've seen his fluttering touches on your hand. it seemed like kaveh was the only person in denial.

so kaveh spends his time observing alhaitham. as of recently, he’s been coming home later than usual. while the man gets off of work around 5 pm, he’s been coming back at 8 or 10. much later than he usually would be. and whenever he’s been gone, he always has leftovers for him. and each day it’d be from a different restaurant. almost as if he’s been traveling throughout sumeru to try new food. kaveh would have thought nothing of it until alhaitham came back with flushed ears and a faint smile. 

all of this was simply speculation though. there’s no way his roommate, alhaitham, the akademiya’s feeble scholar and formerly acting grand sage, would be in some kind of secret relationship with his little sister. it’s impossible. almost as unlikely as alhaitham being a sweetheart in any kind of relationship.

but it was beginning to be hard to deny what he’s seeing right now. 

tighnari and cyno had invited him to lambards for a game of tcg. a certain somebody was supposed to join, however he was nowhere to be seen. not until the doors swung open and you walked through. before kaveh could wave to you with a friendly smile, he stopped short as he saw alhaitham by your side. his ears were the same tint of red that he remembered. and his smile was far too obvious now that you were in front of him. your fingers were intertwined as he led you through the tavern, ordering you a bottle of wine for your anniversary.

it seems like kaveh’s worst nightmare came true after all.

⤷ tags:

@urmomsgf298

[sayruq]

So, I've had people asking, why does it matter if rockets are fired towards Tel Aviv and other settlements when they cause a fraction of the damage done by an Israeli missile?

Psychological warfare - the rocket barrages eliminate any sense of security that Israelis might have during the war. It reminds them that there's a price for the occupation of Palestine. I can't tell you how many videos I've seen of people in luxury resorts and other high class lodgings shouting and fleeing in fear at a rocket from Gaza or Yemen. It makes it hard for them to go about their daily life ignoring what is happening. Furthermore it undermines the strength of the IDF. Netanyahu can go on TV and claim to have complete control over Gaza but a rocket barrage undoes that easily. A rocket barrage tells Israelis and the rest of the world that not only is Hamas (and the other groups) still intact, it has enough of a stockpile to still bomb parts of Israel over 50 days into the conflict. Israeli media is constantly shocked every time this happens because there's always the assumption that Palestinians are unprepared in every way for the conflict we're seeing today. It forces them to take the threat posed by the Resistance very seriously which of course leads to the existential meltdowns you see on Israeli social media accounts.

De-settlement - There are hundreds of thousands of internally displaced settlers right now. Most of them are unwilling to return because the settlements are still getting hit and it's obvious the IDF is struggling to get things under control. The annexation of Palestinian land and the formation of settlements has led to a great deal of violence towards Palestinians in both Gaza and the West Bank. Hence, why forcing settlers to evacuate is seen as a great success by the Resistance and their supporters. Hezbollah, for example, has mentioned that several times while doing debriefs of their efforts in the conflict

Hits to the economy - if the settlers are evacuated, who will run local businesses? Not to mention underpaid and overworked foreign migrant workers have fled the country while exploited Gazan workers are trapped in Gaza. Israel is trying to combat this by making deals with countries like India and Mali to get tens of thousands of workers but it's not going to be enough especially the longer this conflict goes on. There's also the fact that tourism won't recover to pre war levels due to security concerns. The same thing with foreign capital leaving the country. Israel is too unstable and evidently incapable of regaining that stability (by quickly defeating the Palestinian resistance) which makes it risky to invest in Israeli businesses.

Logistical nightmare - Gazan rockets are cheap to produce, Israeli interceptor missiles are not. Israel is spending more to stop the barrages of rockets than the Resistance has spent probably in the past 5 years. It's the same issue on the Northern border to Lebanon and whenever Yemen sends its long range missiles. It's not like both Israel, America and Europe have endless supplies of weapons and ammunition, they sent most of their stockpiles to Ukraine. The longer this goes on, the more dire things will get but we're already seeing the strain

[folkwhoreberry]

Danny Ric x Oscars sister who’s like a violinist or soemthing creative in the FIA, so she’s at the races. Maybe she’s like super super weird and pessimistic like Tori Spring and likes to do soemthing silly like building dioramas LOLLL

Yeah, So What? Everybody’s Weird

daniel ricciardo x reader

or... the one where daniel gets abducted by aliens

word count : 937

warning : unrealistic (or not?) imaginations, english is not my first language!!!

on the radio : freeze your brain by from heathers

🍯🦡

you never quite understood why you were in the fia. after all, your job was “creative event logistics,” which was just a fancy way of saying you had to find clever solutions for logistical nightmares. but mostly, you spent your free time in the paddock building dioramas. not just any dioramas, though - yours were masterpieces of chaos. monaco? there was always a tidal wave. spa? suddenly in the middle of a dense, monster-filled forest. silverstone? consumed by an inexplicable sinkhole. no one asked why you did it, and you liked it that way.

you weren’t exactly an optimist. okay, let’s be real - you were a walking cloud of pessimism. you had this deep, unwavering belief that something would always go wrong, whether it was a pit stop catastrophe, a sudden storm, or, your personal favorite, a freak crash that would involve a rogue cow from the countryside. oscar, your brother, called you “grim” and laughed it off. the rest of the grid just found you a little unsettling, especially when you casually brought up how a massive engine failure could cause a car to explode. just casual race things.

but not daniel. no, daniel ricciardo found your weirdness… charming? confusing, yes, but somehow, he liked it.

you first met him when you were setting up a particularly complex diorama for the hungarian grand prix. it involved an alien invasion, complete with miniature ufos and tiny f1 cars being lifted off the track. you were deeply engrossed in sticking a model of max verstappen into a green plastic claw when you heard that unmistakable australian accent.

“that’s… terrifying,” daniel said, crouching beside you to get a closer look. “is that me about to be abducted by an alien?”

you glanced at the tiny replica of his helmet sticking out of a ufo’s tractor beam and shrugged. “yeah, but don’t worry, you’ll probably survive. or not. I haven’t decided yet.”

daniel grinned. “I love it. you know, I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to race in space. reckon I’d still beat max.”

you blinked at him. usually, people just backed away slowly when you went on about hypothetical disasters. but here he was, smiling like you’d just paid him a compliment.

“maybe,” you said. “or maybe you’ll get brainwashed by aliens and lose all your steering ability.”

he laughed, the kind of laugh that echoed around the paddock and drew curious glances. “you’ve got a dark mind, y/n.”

“I prefer ‘realistic’,” you muttered, going back to your work.

from that day on, daniel kept showing up. he’d pop by whenever you were working on a new disaster, always offering weird suggestions like, “what if it rained donuts during the singapore gp?” or “have you ever considered adding a giant squid to the monaco harbor?” you started keeping a notebook just for his absurd ideas, most of which you’d never use, but it amused you.

the thing about daniel was that he was endlessly positive, a ball of chaotic sunshine who seemed immune to the gloom that hung around your brain like a permanent fog. at first, you thought it was annoying. how could anyone be so… chipper? but then it became kind of nice, like you were a bitter coffee and he was the sugar. maybe you needed that sometimes.

the grid noticed, of course. oscar definitely noticed. he cornered you one evening in the paddock, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“are you and daniel… a thing?” he asked, like the thought was more horrifying than any of your diorama disasters.

you snorted. “me? and daniel? no. I’m pretty sure he’s just fascinated by how weird I am.”

oscar raised an eyebrow. “he’s fascinated by something, all right. just don’t get too distracted. I don’t need daniel ricciardo messing with my head before a race.”

“you’re being paranoid,” you told him, though you couldn’t help but wonder if oscar had a point. not that you’d ever admit it.

things took a turn one night after the canadian grand prix. you were sitting in your tiny hotel room, working on yet another apocalyptic diorama (this one involved an earthquake hitting the montreal circuit), when there was a knock on your door.

you opened it to find daniel standing there, holding what appeared to be a box of miniature race car parts.

“what’s this?” you asked, already suspicious.

“for your next masterpiece,” he said, stepping into the room and dumping the box on your bed. “I figured if you’re gonna keep making these, you could use some real f1 car pieces. authenticity, you know?”

you stared at him, bewildered. “you brought me spare parts… for dioramas?”

daniel nodded, his grin widening. “yep! thought you’d like ‘em. you’re always talking about how the cars would crumble during a meteor shower, so now you can show me exactly how.”

it was then, staring at this man who had just gifted you a box of tiny car pieces, that you realized something horrifying. you liked him. like, actually liked him.

you groaned inwardly. this was the worst. liking daniel ricciardo? the human equivalent of a golden retriever? you could already feel the impending disaster. maybe he’d get bored of your dark humor. maybe he’d try to “fix” you with positive affirmations. or worse, maybe he’d start doing the thing people always did - expecting you to be someone you weren’t.

but then daniel plopped himself down on the floor, crossing his legs, and started rummaging through the box, excitedly babbling about how cool your earthquake diorama would look with actual f1 car debris.

maybe… maybe this wasn’t a disaster after all.

————————————————————————————

© all rights reserved to folkwhoreberry. no stealing or copying will be tolerated.

a/n : I let my weird girl out with this one guyssss take me back to my diy days 💔💔

[nameless-jamie]

Hello, I love your PA series! Can I request a story where PA is on a plane with no wifi and Jamie's with the team at a party and celebrates too hard which makes him drunk call her a couple of times leaving her tons of embarrassing messages to listen to after she lands and it's all about how he misses her and how she should be here and not away from him and just being a pining mess 🤭🤭🤭 thanks 💜💜💜

Drunk Calls, Sober Thoughts

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! PA reader

A/N: Ok finally the slow-burn is coming to an end! They confessed!!!!!!!!!! Let's see how it goes between them.

TW: cursing, drunk Jamie

It had been three days since their kiss.

A real kiss. Not an accident. Not some flirty moment they could brush off. Not another near miss where one of them pulled away before it could mean something. No, this was the kind of kiss that settled things. That left no more space for pretending. That confirmed what they had both known for months but had been too stubborn—or too scared—to say out loud.

And yet, they hadn’t talked about it.

Not properly, anyway.

Maybe it was because they were both still figuring out what it meant beyond the obvious. Maybe it was because neither of them wanted to ruin the unspoken magic of it by overanalyzing. Maybe it was because they were both terrified of hearing the other say something that might change everything.

And then Y/N had to leave. Not by choice.

It wasn’t dramatic—just a weekend trip. Rebecca had sent her, because the club was organizing a big preseason charity match in Italy, one of those fancy, and since Y/N was Jamie’s PA, she had to go ahead of the team to finalize travel details, hotel arrangements, media schedules, and all the other logistical nightmares that came with organizing a high-profile event. She had groaned about it, dragging her suitcase down the hallway of her apartment the night before, grumbling about hating flights with no WiFi and being too tired to socialize.

Jamie had hated it. Not that he’d said that, of course. He had just sulked as he carried her bags to the Uber and grumbled something about how “I don’t see why I couldn’t just come with ya. Ain’t like I’d be in the way.” She had laughed, rolled her eyes, and promised she’d be back in a few days.

Before she left, though he made some stupid joke about how she should “at least bring me back some of that proper Italian gelato, yeah?” to lighten the mood. But something about the way he stood there as she pulled away had lingered with her.

Like he totally hadn’t wanted her to go.

Like he had something else he wanted to say but didn’t.

She had tried not to think about that too much during the flight.

She failed.

That had been two days ago.

And Jamie Tartt?

Jamie Tartt was not okay.

He had told himself he would be. He had gone to training, gone to the gym, kept himself busy. He had filled his schedule, just like he always did when something was sitting too heavy in his chest. But then the team had a night off, and the lads decided to go out, and Jamie thought, Yeah, that’ll help.

Spoiler: It did not help.

It was the lads idea to drag him out to some fancy club in London, insisting he needed to “stop brooding like a lovesick teenager” (Isaac’s words, not his).

It was loud. The bass from the speakers made the floor vibrate, the air smelled like expensive perfume and spilled cocktails, and normally, Jamie would be in his element.

But tonight?

Tonight, he was five drinks in, slouched in the booth like a man in mourning, ignoring the girls who kept trying to make eye contact with him across the room.

Not in an obvious way.

To everyone else, Jamie Tartt looked fine. He was sitting in a booth with the team, half-listening to whatever joke Dani was telling, nodding along to Isaac’s commentary about something on his phone, watching Colin get dragged to the dance floor by some boy.

But inside?

Inside, Jamie was fucking miserable.

Because Y/N wasn’t there.

And yeah, she had been gone for less than two days, and yeah, he had spent longer stretches of time without seeing her before. But this time was different. This time, she had kissed him. This time, they weren’t just coworkers who flirted too much. This time, he knew what it felt like to have her lips on his, and now she was far away on a plane, unreachable, and he hated every fucking second of it.

Sam nudged him. “You’re being weird.”

“I ain’t being weird,” Jamie muttered, swirling the ice in his glass.

“You are,” Isaac confirmed. “You’ve had that same miserable look on your face all night.”

Jamie exhaled heavily, slumping further.

Colin raised an eyebrow. “You gonna admit you miss her, or should we just wait for you to drink another shot and start sobbing about it?”

Jamie scowled. “I ain’t sobbing.”

But even as he said it, his hand was already reaching for his phone.

“You look like a man who’s about to do something stupid,” Sam observed, watching Jamie fumble with his phone.

“Gonna call her,” Jamie announced.

“Oh, this should be good,” Dani grinned, watching him unlock it.

“She’s on a plane,” Isaac reminded him. “No WiFi.”

Jamie squinted at the screen. “It’ll still ring.”

“It won’t,” Colin said, shaking his head. “It’ll go to voicemail.”

“Good,” Jamie huffed. “I got shit to say.”

“Oh, this is gonna be so good,” Dani grinned, nudging Sam.

Jamie hit call.

The line rang once, then—predictably—went straight to voicemail. The second the beep sounded, Jamie started talking.

“Oi. Where the fuck are you? Oh. Wait. You’re on the plane. Right. Anyway—listen. I don’t like this. You being gone. I don’t like it. This club’s shit without you. Actually, no—everything is shit without you. Call me when you land.”

Isaac groaned. “Jesus Christ.”

Jamie hung up.

Then frowned.

Then dialed again.

Straight to voicemail.

“I mean, you don’t have to call me. But you should. ‘Cause, like… what if you never come back? What if you get offered a better job? What if some posh Italian twat sweeps you off your feet? What if—wait, no, you’d never leave me. Would you?”

Sam groaned. “Oh my God.”

Dani gasped dramatically. “AY DIOS MIO.”

Colin looked at Isaac. “Should we stop him?”

Isaac shrugged. “Nah, let him embarrass himself.”

Jamie ignored them and called again.

“I kissed you. Well, we kissed each other. And I dunno what we’re doin’ now, but I keep thinkin’ about it, and it’s annoying, ‘cause I can’t do anythin’ about it while you’re fuckin’ gone, and—Fuckin' hell. I think I love you.”

Isaac and Colin looked at each other.

“Oh, he’s definitely a goner.”

Y/N landed at Heathrow the next early morning, running on two hours of sleep and an overpriced airport coffee that did nothing to make her feel awake. She was exhausted, her body aching from the cramped plane seat, her mind already spinning with everything she needed to do once she got home.

But then she turned off airplane mode.

Her phone buzzed violently in her hand, a flood of notifications appearing all at once. Emails, texts, flight alerts—normal things. And then, right at the top of the screen:

Jamie Tartt (7) [Voicemails]

Her stomach flipped.

She shouldn’t listen to them here. Should wait until she was home, somewhere private, somewhere she could think—

But her finger was already tapping the first one.

The second she heard Jamie’s voice, her chest tightened.

"Oi. Where the fuck are you? Oh. Right. You’re on the plane. Right. Anyway—listen. I don’t like this. You being gone. I don’t like it. This club’s shit without you. Actually, no—everything is shit without you. Call me when you land.”

She inhaled sharply, pressing her lips together to keep from smiling. Dumbass.

She hit play on the next one.

"I mean, you don’t have to call me. But you should. ‘Cause, like… what if you never come back?..."

A warmth spread through her, creeping up her neck, curling in her stomach.

The next message played automatically.

“I kissed you. Well, we kissed each other. And I dunno what we’re doin’ now, but I keep thinkin’ about it, and it’s annoying, ‘cause I can’t do anythin’ about it while you’re fuckin’ gone, and—fuckin' hell. I think I love you.”

Y/N’s breath hitched.

A crackly, muffled sound came through the speaker—someone gasping dramatically, followed by a distant voice laughing, “Did he just say he loves her?”

Her fingers trembled as she clutched the phone tighter.

The airport disappeared around her. The voices, the announcements, the rolling suitcases—it all blurred into nothing. The only thing she could hear was Jamie, drunk and emotional, pouring his heart out in a way he never had before.

I think I love you.

Had he meant it?

He had to be drunk. He was drunk. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t real. If anything, the fact that he had said it while he was drunk—when his guard was completely down, when he wasn’t overthinking or trying to be cool—made it feel even more real.

Her heart pounded as she played the last voicemail.

"You’re gonna listen to all these in the morning and laugh at me, aren’t ya? ‘Cause you think I’m a dumbass. And I am. But I don’t care. I miss you, and I don’t wanna pretend like I don’t. I just… wish you were here. That’s all."

By the time the message ended, Y/N was already in a cab on the way to his house.

Jamie was still half-drunk when she found him, sprawled out on his bed, one foot dangling off the edge, his shirt nowhere in sight, and the blankets twisted around him like he had fought them in his sleep—and lost. His hair was a mess, sticking up in all directions, his lips slightly parted as he stirred at the sound of her footsteps.

His head lolled to the side, bleary eyes blinking up at her.

“Am I dreamin’?” His voice was thick, slow, coated in sleep and leftover alcohol.

Y/N sat at the edge of the bed, resting a hand lightly on his chest. “No, Jamie.”

His brows furrowed, his eyes tracking over her face like he needed to make sure she was real.

“You’re here,” he murmured.

“I am.”

His lips curved, lazy and lopsided. “Fuckin’ hell. You’re so pretty. I forgot how pretty you are.”

Y/N huffed out a laugh. “You saw me three days ago.”

“Yeah, but three days is forever,” he whined, voice raspy and rough, like he’d been talking about her all night. Which, to be fair, he had. His fingers clumsily reached for her, tracing along the hem of her sleeve, barely touching, like he was still convincing himself she was real.

“I missed you,” he admitted, softer this time, more serious.

Her heart clenched.

“I know,” she said gently, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “You told me. Seven times.”

Jamie blinked, trying to process her words. Then his face contorted in horror. “You—”

“I heard the voicemails.”

His groan was immediate, deep, like it physically pained him. “Oh, fuck.” He threw an arm over his face, muffling another groan into his bicep. “That’s so bad.”

Y/N pried his hand away, forcing him to look at her. His skin was warm, flushed from the alcohol, his eyes glassy and full of something unreadable.

“Jamie.”

He blinked at her, lips parting slightly.

“Did you mean it?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

A flicker of clarity crossed his face. His throat bobbed, his fingers twitching slightly where they rested against the sheet.

Then—so softly she almost didn’t hear it—he said, “Every word.”

A breath she hadn’t realized she was holding escaped her lips.

And just like that, it was done. The waiting. The wondering. The endless push and pull.

Jamie reached for her, his touch warm and clumsy, trailing up her arm like he was trying to memorize her. “You smell nice,” he murmured, pulling her closer. “Like—like that vanilla stuff. I love it. I love you.”

Her breath caught in her throat.

Jamie blinked at her, eyes heavy with exhaustion, but still so open, so full of that raw, unfiltered honesty that only seemed to slip out when he was too drunk to hold it in.

“You love me?” she whispered.

He hummed, pressing his forehead to her shoulder, nuzzling against her like a sleepy cat. “Yeah. Thought I was bein’ obvious, but you’re all stubborn and shit.” His fingers found her waist, rubbing small, lazy circles against her hip. “But I’ll say it again if you want. I love you, I love you, I love you—”

Y/N laughed softly, threading her fingers through his hair, feeling the way he melted under her touch.

She climbed into bed beside him, and he immediately pulled her into his arms, wrapping around her like he never planned on letting go. His lips brushed against her temple, his breath warm and steady.

“You’re not allowed to leave again,” he mumbled sleepily. “Not even for work. I’ll sack myself. Don’t care.”

Y/N smiled against his skin, heart impossibly full.

“Okay, Jamie.”

[thankskenpenders]

Oh also I guess they're just not taking Sonic questions on the BumbleKast anymore, because Ian decided the Sega vetting thing was just too much of a logistical nightmare. Can't blame him! Also can't say I'm surprised this is coming to an end considering Ian is now the lead writer of the games. I'll miss it as a source of behind-the-scenes info, I always liked hearing Ian's perspective on things, but I already said my piece about how people just take shit he says out of context to stir up drama. It's probably for the best.