#corsage answers

[corsage]

tag game: reblog with what you did/will do today, and what you're looking forward to tomorrow!!

thank you for the tag @lemonlyman-dotcom ♡.

my biggest plans for today are reading, cleaning my room and showering.

tomorrow i have university work to do, and i must start studying for my upcoming exams. i've also got pilates at some indefinite point during the day, and i've also got a few calls to make.

(i also have an analysis caged in my drafts since forever that my brain is refusing to develop. maybe tomorrow is the day i'll start working on it again).

tagging @theghostofashton, @goodways, @tellmegoodbye, @glittersocks7778, @carlos-in-glasses, @eclectic-sassycoweyes, @welcomehometk, @whatsintheboxmh, @the-126-family, @tkslittlesway, @tkstrandthinker, @paperstorm, @strandnreyes, @welcometololaland, @heartstringsduet, @butchreyes, @emsprovisions, @lonestar-s5countdown, @ironheartwriter, @reyesstrand and you, the reader.

[neriyon]

For the WoL ask meme!

9. What's in your WoL's travel bag? Any trinkets? Any vital items they cant go without? Do they travel light and figure stuff out on the fly, or do they bring way too much with them? (Bonus points if you have images!)

Hawu'li's bags (the one on his person and the one on his chocobo) are usually very messy and filled to the brim. Mostly foodstuffs, but also materia, change of clothes, some potions of varying effects (possibly over their best before date), loose change, dyes, a cool leaf he found... There's also a beat up journal and his summoner tome sitting there, as well as some ink and paper for letters. Oh and treats for his chocobo, can't go out without those.

He never really leaves home without his staff (but that won't fit in a bag), and very rarely without the tome, and while they aren't usually in the bag either: his Menphina earring and white lily corsage.

[ahundredtimesover]

I Want You to Stay (06) | 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: 14.6k

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: We're slowly heading somewhere! Still slow but it's something hehe thank you again for appreciating this piece! 🥰 Also... JK in that Vogue outfit with a corsage. YEP.

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight  🥰

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

The silence that engulfs Jungkook’s apartment once you enter the following Monday is quite unnerving, as it brings back memories of the last time this happened and a half-naked woman came out of the bedroom and questioned who you were. The gym is empty. There’s no other sound of someone typing away or talking on the phone like the few times that you found Jungkook working before you even arrived.

You take a deep breath and decide to just face whoever comes out of these doors until one of them opens and out comes the man himself - alone - dressed in an oversized jumper and sweatpants. He looks like he just got out of bed with his semi-mussed hair - with a little sprout bouncing along as he moves - and groggy eyes, which widen once it registers that you’re here.

“Mr. Jeon,” you bow in greeting. “Are you feeling better?”

“A little,” he replies, his deep and gruff voice startling you a little. “What do you have there?”

He gestures towards the paper bag you’re holding, and you remember what you decided to bring over.

“Uh, chicken noodle soup,” you mutter, somehow suddenly shy. “Just an option for this morning. I wasn’t sure if you were still feeling under the weather.”

“I think I’m just fatigued,” he says. “But uh, I can have that.”

“Yes, sir,” you nod, putting it in a pot to eventually heat. 

You prepare his suits for the week then prepare his breakfast, pouring yourself a small serving as well. He takes his seat and starts eating, and you glance at him to see his reaction.

“Where did you get the one from last Saturday?” He asks, his face expressionless.

“From a store nearby,” you answer. “I was heading somewhere and your building was on the way.”

“This tastes better. Where did you get this from?” 

“I, uh, I made it,” you say softly, feeling a bit of pride that it’s something he complimented. 

There’s prolonged silence that you’re suddenly nervous about. His eyes remain focused straight ahead while yours constantly flit towards him, partly to gauge if he’ll start talking about last week’s meeting and partly to see his reaction about your dish.

“You don’t have to send or make me food, Ms. Cho,” he finally says, wishing he’d said it with a bit more warmth. 

But he’s not used to speaking that way, so it comes off as displeasure, as if he doesn’t appreciate what you’d done even if that’s exactly how he feels. He’s grateful; he just doesn’t want another reason to think that you actually care about him. 

“My health is my responsibility, not yours,” he adds.

“I, uh… I suppose that’s true,” you say even more softly. “I just thought it would be nice to be given something like this when you’re sick.”

And it’s the truth. During the times you were unwell, Hoseok would remind you to rest or take your medicines; he even bought you vitamins and it’s why taking them became a habit of yours. You barely had the energy to make soup. But after that one time when you braved through an event and Yoongi noticed you feeling under the weather, he took you to a noodle house and ordered extra chicken noodle soup for you to take home. You had it all through the weekend, and though it wasn’t like your mom’s, it was still something familiar, and it was comfort that you badly needed.

You thought it was something you could extend to Jungkook. You weren’t sure if he was spending the weekend at home by himself, but in case he was, you thought that something warm would help. You were on your way to watch a local film and happened to pass by his area, the image of him sick and probably alone prompting you to just buy that dish and leave it at the reception. You suddenly craved it and made one for yourself last night, thinking it wouldn’t hurt if you brought some over for him as well. Even if he thinks it isn’t your responsibility, you think it’s still within your role to make sure that your boss - the Vice President - conducts his functions properly, and he can only do so if he’s healthy. 

As you finish the small portion that you prepared for yourself, Jungkook wonders who’d taken care of you during the times you were sick. With your friends and family miles away, perhaps there wasn’t anyone. Maybe it was a boyfriend. Or maybe like what he’s come to see, you did things on your own. Maybe you think there’s no one doing that for him, too. 

And you wouldn’t be wrong. He was never good with company, after all, whether it was offering or keeping it. So when someone offers something as simple as a bowl of soup for when he’s feeling unwell, it cuts through the walls he’s built around himself because he’s become used to no one even knocking to check how he’s doing. 

But in an effort to remain unmoved and insistent on keeping his distance, he sets boundaries once more. 

“You don’t need to do this for me, Mr. Cho,” he states. “I appreciate it, but I’d prefer if you don’t do it again.”

He sees your face fall from his periphery, and much as he wants to take it back, he knows he has to hold back. It was hard enough to resist feeling cared for. 

He’d really spent the weekend by himself, turning down his friends’ invitation to go to a resort and Hoseok’s offer of dinner at this newly opened steak house. Jungkook was buried under the covers when the phone rang informing him that you’d left something for him, unwilling to move and get off the bed because he was too tired but also too hungry, so when he opened the bag and it registered to him what you've given him, he felt less alone and less sad for himself. The image of your shy expression flashed through his mind and he couldn’t help the smile he let out, giving himself only a minute to bask in your kindness before reminding himself that it means nothing more than making sure he’s well. It’s harder for you if he’s sick, he convinced himself. Still, he’d rather not think about it; he’d rather not torture himself by his brain wanting you to mean one thing, but his heart hoping it was another.

“I understand, Mr. Jeon,” you say, your voice a little too firm for his liking. “I apologize if it made you uncomfortable.”

“It—” didn’t, he wants to say. It made him feel nice and comfortable and that’s what he can’t let himself feel around you. 

“I treat this as part of my job,” you reason, a half lie because you really did want to extend some kindness even if he may not exactly be deserving of it. “But it may not be so for you. I’ll take note of this moving forward.”

Jungkook concedes. Any objection will counter what he’s been saying, even if he didn’t mean all of it. And like how you always do, you get over it quickly, flashing him a measured smile and taking out your iPad to go through this week’s schedule. 

You both head to the car after and discuss his previous meetings. You’re detailed and engaged, taking down notes and asking him questions like the professional that you are. He tells you about his meeting with artist Lee Jaemin and that he agreed with 80% of the pieces that you and Yoongi chose. You talk about the Board members’ reactions during his presentation and he shares what they talked to him about during the dinner. 

“Socializing with them was tiring,” he admits. “I couldn’t keep up with all the things that they wanted to talk about.”

You give him an assuring smile. “You looked like you did well,” you assure him. “They seemed engaged, although as Mr. Jung would say, part of that is for show, to get on your good side. It would be smarter to think that not all of it was genuine.”

“True. But I enjoyed speaking with Mr. Saito. He’s an architect, too, and we had a really good talk about incorporating traditional elements in a modern design.”

“Yes, he’s always been kind,” you say. “But it’s good that you’re able to forge these relationships. Perhaps it’s also new to them, seeing you in that light. I suppose they don’t know you all that much. It’s a nice change being able to engage with you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ah, well, it’s just during the company events that you attended, it wasn’t exactly hard to spot you,” you chuckle, seemingly comfortable now.

“And why is that so?” 

He turns to you, legitimately curious because he’d never really noticed you before, even if he knew you as Hoseok’s assistant. If he’s being honest, you didn’t even look familiar when you first met, and that just reinforces the fact that Jungkook didn’t really care for the other people around him, especially during those events he was required to fly to Seoul to attend. If he’d paid a bit more attention, maybe he wouldn’t have been caught off guard when he did finally meet you. Maybe he wouldn’t have been as rude, too.

“If I may, sir, it was quite easy to spot one of the Jeon sons always at the bar,” you chuckle. “Your father and cousin would often look for you and you were always in the same spot.”

You’d noticed him, Jungkook thinks to himself. He wonders what you’d thought about him then, but given how he hated those events, it probably wouldn’t be something good. He just always couldn’t wait to leave. 

“Ah. As you can tell, I’m not one who likes to socialize,” he says. “I don’t really know what to talk to people about. And I’m not that good with names nor faces. It was easier to keep to myself.”

“That’s understandable. But you already know that’ll have to change,” you remind him. “Half of what Mr. Jung did was attend events.”

“I know. He’s been preparing me for that. I need your help in that aspect, too, from remembering names to getting my energy up. Those are oddly what I’m most nervous about, if I’m being honest.”

“I’ll do what I can, Mr. Jeon,” you assure him. “I hope I can make things easy for you.”

You’ll never know the irony of your words, and perhaps the push and pull it brings about - as you try to make things easy for him, the harder it actually becomes on his end. 

You find yourself back at the tailor shop the next Thursday for Jungkook’s suit fitting, and if it wasn’t for Taehyung telling you that your gowns are ready, you would have totally forgotten that you had some dresses made as well. 

While Jungkook tries on his outfits, you’re instructed to choose several dress shirts that he’d be adding to his wardrobe, given the various functions he’d be attending from now on. You didn’t anticipate for this to be part of your role, but you don’t mind, as it’s a welcome change to what you normally do, which is attend meetings, bury yourself in paperwork, and everything else in between. At least you’ll be visiting the venue for the Arts Center event tomorrow, but today, you focus on the task at hand, which turns out to be harder than expected.

The options are endless. It doesn’t help that you have to envision Jungkook in each piece of clothing and that he looks good in every one of them, and that you have to imagine him at all. You see him everyday - and have seen him in as little as in just his gym shorts - and you don’t really want to have him in your mind as well. But how he presents himself is a big part of his new role, as Hoseok had told you. As the Vice President, Jungkook needs to look sophisticated and respectable, someone worthy to represent the company and the Jeon family name. 

You go for different hues of grays and blacks and other colors, too. There’s an olive green that looks really nice, and a few maroons and pinks that would add variety to his everyday look. You’re focused on making your choices, but your focus shifts to Jungkook when he comes out of the dressing room donned in a patterned  black suit. The fit is perfect and even with the distance between you two, you could spot impeccable details that make the outfit look elegant yet fresh. 

“This is for the gala,” Taehyung states. “What do you think, Ms. Cho?”

“It looks nice” is all you manage to say. 

It’s the only word you feel is neutral enough to describe him. Even if you could accept that Jungkook is handsome, you don’t exactly want to say so in front of him.

“I was going for something better than nice, but that should be fine, I guess. What do you think, Kook?”

“I like it. But don’t you think the sleeves are a bit too fit on my arms?” Jungkook asks his friend.

“Well, it’s not like you were flexing them when I was measuring you,” Taehyung playfully rolls his eyes. “But I can adjust it, since I doubt you’d take a pause on lifting weights anyway. It’s probably the material though so don’t worry, I’ll fix this. Okay, on to the next one.”

You return to your task at hand, choosing some patterned tops that are appropriate for less formal events, and you inform Taehyung who then says that he’ll have those made in Jungkook’s measurements. With your task finished, Taehyung instructs you to head downstairs so you could fit your gowns as well, and you follow in anticipation because these might just be the first and only custom-made pieces of clothing you’ll ever have the luxury of wearing.

A female staff assists you, making sure that the length and neckline are to your liking. The first outfit, the one for the Arts Center event, is an old rose sleeveless lace midi dress that looks even more gorgeous when worn. The gown for the Appointment Dinner is a black short-sleeved pleated piece that is both functional and fashionable, but it’s the last one - the one for the gala - that has your jaw dropping to the ground.

“Ms. Cho,” you hear Taehyung call out from outside the fitting room. “Is everything okay?”

“Y-yeah,” you stutter, unable to stop looking at yourself in the mirror and turning around to try to see every angle of the stunning dress. “It’s just, uh…”

“It’s what?” He asks worriedly. “Can you come outside so I can see?” 

You take a breath before pulling the heavy curtains open and find Taehyung and Jungkook standing not far away.

“It’s too pretty, Mr. Kim,” you say shyly. “I don’t think I can wear this.”

“Well, you will. Because it’s custom-made,” he points out. “And it looks gorgeous on you. It fits perfectly. I assume the others do as well?”

“Yes,” you smile, feeling like a fairytale princess who gets to wear a gown that her fairy godmother had made for her. “They’re just…”

“Exactly what you need as this guy’s right hand woman,” Taehyung finishes for you.

He gestures towards his best friend who seems expressionless and probably unimpressed by how you look. It’s not like you mind but it at least wouldn’t be humiliating if he just stood there looking uninterested.

“What do you think, Kook?”

“It looks nice,” Jungkook shrugs, repeating the words you’d used on him earlier. Shifting his gaze from you to Taehyung, he excuses himself. “I’ll head to the car, I have calls to make.”

“I’ll finish up here,” you say, turning around to go back to the fitting room.

Jungkook exits the shop and finally breathes, feeling like he’d suffocated inside because of how you looked. He’d wondered how the dresses turned out, curious about the designs because Taehyung didn’t want to show him; it’s a surprise, the man had said. And now Jungkook knows why. 

Stunning would be an inadequate word to use. The burgundy color of the gown made it look sophisticated on you, even more with the off-shoulder that showed off some of your features that he’d rather not think about. The flow was elegant, and he half wishes that he hadn’t thought of having these made only so he could avoid the moment earlier when he felt his throat dry up because of how beautiful you looked. 

He’s gonna have to get used to being rendered speechless every time, he thinks, but it’s not like it doesn’t happen everyday, anyway. Every morning that he finds you standing in his kitchen, donning the pencil skirt and blouse ensemble that assistants are recommended to wear, his mind short circuits. There’s something especially fresh and electrifying about you at the start of the day, and he always has to pull himself together and act normal around you without giving himself away. 

He can’t nurture the attraction, after all, even if he’s reminded of it during times like earlier, even more so when he gazes at you and you hold it, letting the tension build unconsciously. Because that’s what happened, as you pulled open the curtains and looked up. He wishes you were too shy to notice how long he had his eyes on you. But it’s why he had to get away. You’re too much for him sometimes, and he doesn’t know if you have any idea of how you affect him.

Jungkook stares at his phone, half hoping that an actual call would come to distract him. But nothing does, and he leans his head back and groans in frustration. What is it about you that makes him absolutely weak in the knees and stupid in the head? 

Back inside, you give Taehyung your address so he can have the gowns delivered to your apartment for your convenience. 

“Thank you again, Mr. Kim,” you say. “I wish I could do your creations justice.”

“You will. It’s in the confidence, so exude it, okay?”

“I’ll try,” you giggle. “Especially since those pieces will pretty much blow the Office of the VP’s budget.”

“Is that what Kook said? That these are budgeted under him?” Taehyung arches an eyebrow.

“Uh, yes, sort of. I just assumed because he’d pointed out that they were being made as part of my functions,” you explain. 

“Hmm. I know his office has a lot of money but these gowns would definitely blow up any contingency fund you have,” he chuckles. “So no, your assumption is wrong. Kook’s paying for all this.”

“What?” You exclaim. “But that’s— why?”

“Well, you do need these as part of your job, and he wanted to save you the inconvenience of spending for them. I mean, he did buy Lucas some suits, too. But between you and me, I think this is his way of apologizing to you, just in a very gallant way.”

“You mean unnecessary and undeserving,” you correct, still in shock that Jungkook is paying for all those, even if yes, he can easily afford them. 

“Nope, not at all. I know he’s been difficult to deal with and I’d like to apologize on his behalf, seeing that he’s terrible at doing it. I know it doesn’t make things better but at least it’s something you don’t have to worry about anymore.”

“Well, that does help a bit,” you smile, following him as he heads out the door. “But thank you again, Mr. Kim.”

“Off with the formalities,” he laughs. “It’s Taehyung. And you’re welcome. It’s the least I could do to somehow make up for my ass of a best friend.” 

“He’s not too bad. Not anymore, at least,” you counter. “I’ll go ahead. Have a good day, Taehyung!”

Jungkook manages to look down on his phone in time for you not to see him watch you talk freely and casually with his friend. That’s another person close to him who gets to experience how you’re like - joyful and warm, perhaps a little shy sometimes, but comfortable just the same. It’s something he’ll only see from afar; your positions necessitate some distance, but perhaps that’s better than not having you around at all. 

You enter the car and you’re back to being quiet and reserved, your eyes focused on the road while Jungkook, in an effort not to keep glancing at you, turns to his leather notebook and doodles some designs that pop in his head. It’s his way of calming himself down most days, helping him focus given that his mind is often filled with too many thoughts that he can’t express. He hopes that in drawing them, he can somehow rid himself of the feelings he’s locked in and it helps, as he’s somehow able to get over the tension from earlier and the tiniest bit of jealousy over your casual engagement with Taehyung.

You both return to the office, with Jungkook proceeding to his room to prepare for a lunch meeting and you follow, taking some signed documents that he’d left earlier.

“Mr. Jeon,” you say as he settles in his seat. “Thank you for the dresses. I… I’ve never had anything as beautiful as those and undeserving as I may feel, I’m just really appreciative.”

Jungkook isn’t prepared for the softness in your voice as you say the words, and like the consistent jerk that he is, he brushes it off.

“Taehyung made them; you should thank him. I just paid for them,” he utters, his tone stern and uncaring.

His eyes flit to you when there’s silence on your end, and he wishes they hadn’t. There’s resignation in yours, as if he’s shattering another moment you’re creating where you’re just being sincere and he’s being dismissive. It’s his default, he reasons, not just towards you but towards everyone. Normally he wouldn’t mind how the other would take it, but with you right now, he wishes he was so much better than this. 

You hold his gaze, as if trying to tell him things you don’t want to express. He’s not one to apologize, but he also won’t accept gratitude. You’re starting to think that what Jungkook can’t handle is any form of human connection. It’s something you struggle with at times, but you’re at least open to it, willing to accept kindness and appreciating people for what they have to offer. Jungkook deflects; he turns away. It seemed like it took so much for him to even verbalize needing your help and perhaps he was desperate; his reputation was on the line after all. But even then, he doesn’t give nor does he accept, and you wonder what made him that way. 

“Is there anything else?” He finally asks after a long beat of silence. 

“Nothing more,” you shake your head and excuse yourself. 

Returning to your desk, you look at Jungkook from your seat. There’s a hint of emptiness in his eyes that you often mistake for apathy. Perhaps there’s more and perhaps the help he really needs isn’t just about dealing with his father or remembering names or navigating relationships required for his role. Maybe it’s about opening himself up a little, or smiling when the situation calls for it, or not questioning other people’s kindness towards him. Maybe it’s about realizing he’s more than just this heir to the company or the playboy he’s known as. Maybe it’s about seeing that he’s capable of sincerity and gentleness as well.

You sigh to yourself. It’s probably a long shot but you only feel strongly about it because you know what it’s like to turn people away. If it hadn’t been for your family and friends, you probably would’ve continued to do so. Jungkook may be your boss but he’s human, too, and he may just be waiting around to see who’d be patient enough to extend a hand and let him know that he’s not alone, that someone understands, and maybe that someone is you.

The days fly by too quickly for your liking and you haven't been able to take a breath. You had a meeting with the organizing committee of the Appointment Dinner most of last Friday and you spent your weekend coordinating with the designers for the Arts Center launch. It’s been last minute preparations these past two days and before you know it, Wednesday has come. You stayed late the night before and were gladly checked in at the hotel with the other assistants, so you at least got a bit of sleep even if your body felt like it continued to stay awake. 

But tonight is important, as the newly appointed executives will be formally introduced to the corporation’s directors, shareholders, and subsidiary companies. You’ve been organizing this with the planning committee since the appointments were announced, and given that coordinating events like this is one of your primary tasks, you’re exhausted and excited and nervous all at once. But it’s the second time you’re doing this and you’ve learned so much since you did this for Hoseok. There’s more knowledge, sure, but there’s also more confidence. You also know enough to eat before the guests arrive and at 3PM, it’s exactly what you do, knowing you won’t have much else until the event ends.

The other employees compliment your dress, and you’re too shy to say who had designed it but you eventually do, knowing it’s good for Taehyung’s brand. But you don’t say much else, choosing instead to focus on the guest list as you’re tasked to do, and you go around the events hall to make sure that the VIP name cards are placed on their proper tables. You’re able to sneak bites of the canapes as you go, allowing yourself a flute of champagne for that kick you need to socialize with the guests tonight. 

You engage with the early birds when they arrive, guiding them to their seats and putting on your most welcoming smile. You get Mr. Ri’s message that they’re nearby, so you head outside and stand by the entrance and wait for them, knowing Jungkook would want to know how things are going.

He exits the car in a black suit and white top, a statement brooch adorning his classic coat. The strands of his long hair are tucked behind his ears and he looks even more polished than usual, a look that catches attention; it definitely catches yours. 

“Mr. Jeon,” you bow in greeting. “Some of your invited guests have arrived.” 

“Have you spoken to them?” He asks, as you walk slightly behind him towards the venue. 

“I have, and they’re looking forward to seeing you.” 

He nods, and just as he’s about to enter the hall, he stops and turns towards you. 

“You’re busy tonight, aren’t you?”

“Somewhat, sir,” you reply. “We all have our tasks but I’m free to move around. Do you need help with anything?”

“Just, uh, names.”

“I’ll always be nearby,” you assure him. 

Your smile gives him the comfort he needs. He’s been without it since yesterday afternoon, given that you had to prepare as part of the organizing committee. And while the support team and Yoongi have been encouraging, only you really know why every event such as this is important for him. 

Jungkook has already made gains with some of the Board members last week; this time, it’s about engaging everyone else - the staff, the partners, and key personalities in the industry. Hoseok and Ji-woo have done this before but it’s Jungkook’s first time. He’s no longer just an executive in the Southeast Asian office; he’s now the Vice President of the entire company. There’s a lot of pressure that comes from carrying the Jeon family name, and even more being the only one of the two sons who’s taking on such an important role. 

The event hall is grand. It’s pretty special, too. It’s one of the projects he worked on as part of the design department years ago before he left for Singapore, and the thought makes him stop. Perhaps this is the reason why his father chose this venue for tonight; if anything, it’s a reminder of what Jungkook is capable of. He takes a breath and looks around to soak everything in before approaching his invited guests - partners and consultants he worked with in his previous role. 

But that ends quickly, as many more people approach him for a greeting. 

Jungkook is a bit overwhelmed. He tries to hold eye contact when he speaks to them but he can only do so for so long. Some faces are familiar but the names escape him, and he starts to regret all the times that he flew here for events like this and never engaged with the other guests. If he had, perhaps this wouldn’t be so hard. 

There are those who introduce themselves, while there are those who don’t, perhaps assuming that he’d know who they are. Just like the couple who’s speaking to him excitedly, and he wants to return the energy by at least calling them by their names. His mind is blank, and just as he’s about to give up, he looks up and sees you, your eyes catching his as if you’re just waiting for his cry for help. 

There’s pleading in his eyes and you get it immediately, as you walk towards his direction then greet the pair next to him.

“Mr. and Mrs. Yamada,” you say. “It’s lovely to see both of you again. I saw in the news that you’re launching a new project with our partners from Dubai. That’s quite exciting.”

“Ah, Ms. Cho,” they greet you back. “Yes, all thanks to Mr. Jung who helped us with that partnership. We’re excited for it as well.”

“Oh, I’m sure. We’re looking forward to it,” you smile.

“Thank you. I’m pleased to know that you remain as the Vice President’s assistant,” Mrs. Yamada says. “Perhaps we can invite Mr. Jeon to one of our hotels in Japan? Or even in London?”

You turn to Jungkook who looks less tense than he did a few minutes ago.

“Ah, yes, that would be great, Mr. and Mrs. Yamada,” he responds. “I’m sure I’ll find time during one of my trips and I’ll definitely give you a call. Perhaps we can talk about projects we can work on as well.”

The excitement in the couple’s faces is a joy to see and for their sake, you really do wish that Jungkook makes good on his promise. You ask him about it after they leave, and he says that the names were familiar. Ji-woo’s talked about working with them before and that they’re long-time friends of the family, so he should maintain that relationship. 

A call of his name prompts both of you to look to the side, and he turns to you with a questioning face. 

“Mr. Adam’s an investor. Behind him is Professor Zhang from SNU. They’re friends of your father,” you tell him. Seeing Bitna signal for you, you say, “I have to check on something, Mr. Jeon. I’ll be back.”

You turn around to head to one of the tables, but you look back to watch Jungkook greet those who approach him, his smile becoming more natural as the moments pass by. You briefly meet with some staff about the musical guest and some other last minute adjustments. You greet Taehyung and Seokjin who show up to support their best friend, with both men complimenting how you look.

Knowing that Jungkook will be needing you again after, you call over Do-hyun and Yohan and delegate some of your monitoring tasks to them, and then stand by one of the tables as you watch the socialization take place as more guests come in.

Your eyes find Jungkook again as he’s engaged in a conversation with some Board members and other partners, and you smile a little at how he’s able to maintain eye contact and look like he’s actually interested, especially after he looks up and gives you a look as if to say that he’s trying his best. 

“Why are you watching him like some child who’s trying to make friends at the playground?” Chin-sun asks, the teasing tone of her voice making you chuckle. “He’s a grown man, you know? He can hold his own.”

“I know,” you reply, turning to her. “But it’s one of the many things that’s new about his role. And probably one of the more important ones. I just wanna let him know that he’s doing a good job.”

“Well, there’s no wife or girlfriend to do that. I guess that makes it your responsibility then.”

You disregard her comment’s implication and point out that Hoseok does that for Jungkook, too, but he’s just as busy and perhaps just as nervous as well. 

“It matters a lot to hear it. Plus, social events can be overwhelming and isolating at the same time. He’s still getting used to it,” you add.

The prolonged silence prompts you to turn to her.

“You know, I admire you for a lot of things,” she says. “Your ability to remain kind after everything is one of them. I mean, after how he treated you those first few weeks? That was tough.”

Your resigned face pushes her to continue. “Do-hyun could’ve gone on without telling me about seeing you cry and I still would’ve known. You tried to hide it but your smile always fell too fast and your eyes were just always sad. Must’ve been hard, trying to get the team on his side when you couldn’t do that for yourself.”

“I honestly don’t know how I survived that first month,” you laugh to mask the sadness from that experience. “But that’s in the past. He still has his moments but at least there are good ones now. I’m here to do my job. Being kind after everything is part of it.”

“I wish you didn’t have to keep it to yourself though,” she laments. “If we couldn’t help, we could’ve at least cheered you up.”

“I didn’t want to bring you guys into it,” you say. “The team was incredibly busy with so many things and I managed. That’s what matters.”

“Oh, ___,” she sighs. “You put so much of yourself in your job. I think that’s why the bosses trust you. But that takes so much out of you, too. Do you have anything left for yourself?”

“What’s left is right here, Chin-sun. I don’t think I know what I am outside of all this.”

“Doesn’t that bother you? I mean, I’ve worked with you for three years and I can’t say I really know you outside of this, too. And if you can’t… well, that’s something to think about.”

“And I have. It’s something I’ve asked myself, but trying to find the answer isn’t as easy as asking the question. So I just put all my energy into my work because where else would I? It at least pays the bills and lets me enjoy little luxuries every once in a while,” you reason. 

“Well, I know what learning who you are outside of this job would entail, and I’m a little selfish because I need you around,” she smiles. “No one does things the way you do, and that’s also why I figured that at some point, Mr. Jeon was gonna get himself together because he can’t afford to lose you. You’re so good at this, ___. He’s lucky you didn’t quit.”

“Apparently, it takes a lot to get me to quit,” you reply. 

Or I was just never brave enough to do it, you want to say. Asking the question is indeed always easier than finding the answer. 

“Let’s hope you find a way to find yourself without resigning. We can’t afford to lose you, too,” she winks. 

“I appreciate that, Chin-sun. Thank you.”

“Well, I think it matters that you know that you’re doing amazing. I hope he treats you as you deserve.”

He tries, you think to yourself. At least that’s what you hope. 

The call of your names from a familiar voice excites you, as A-yeong approaches you and Chin-sun. You engage in your usual hushed conversations until you see Jungkook in another sea of people and you decide to approach him, the relief on his face telling you that he’s indeed been needing you. 

It’s not your preferred crowd. Something you’ve learned in your years of attending these events is that you would smile and entertain them and men would think it’s an invitation to invade your personal space. A lingering touch on the elbow, a hand on your waist, standing a millimeter too close… and they disregard your uncomfortable look or attempts at stepping away. 

The man you’re introduced to is new but his ways aren’t, and you scan the hall to find Bitna who turns to you in time, the look you give her signaling another person to look out for. It’s a system they developed that they’ve filled you in on, and you immediately excuse yourself and check on the food served at the back even if you know they’re still well stocked. It at least allows you a breather. You’re not even a main actor but you’re tired as hell from socializing with people. 

It’s not long after when the event starts. Speeches and a performance take place while dishes are being put out, and it’s after the main course is served when Jungkook steps away from his seat. 

Choosing to stand towards the back before he’s called on stage to be introduced, he scans the hall and thinks about the work that the committee put in, including you, who had to deal with him while dealing with all this. He catches sight of you speaking with the other assistants, and he already knows there’s some planning going on. But like the last time, he felt you around even if you were busy; you held his gaze during the times he felt a little overwhelmed. 

“You ready?”

Yoongi’s voice is deep but calming, and Jungkook takes it as his friend’s way of encouraging him. 

“Not really, but I’ll manage.” 

“Good. You’ve got people on your side,” Yoongi assures him. “Like me. And especially her.”

He gestures towards the left where Jungkook sees you approaching them. Since you started working for him, he didn’t expect how easily he could find comfort in your presence. He went from wishing you were someone else, to wanting to distance himself from you, to constantly hoping you were around. Those last two could actually coexist, and they do. There’s still detachment as his means to combat the attraction - he tries not to care about you, to not get to know you, to remind himself of who you are in his life, but he still depends on you for support, for comfort, for stability. You make his life easier; you also make it feel less lonely. And every time you’re there is a moment where he feels like he could breathe, like the noise in his mind stills because he’s forced to focus on you; somehow, you captivate him that way. 

“Are you ready, Mr. Jeon?”

The contrasting tenderness of your voice gives him that boost and he nods despite the lingering nervousness.

“I guess so,” he huffs. “Let’s get this over with.”

He walks towards his seat up front while you stay behind with Yoongi who leads you to one of the free tables at the back. You both don’t say much to each other, focusing instead on the short speeches that Ji-woo and Hoseok give, both of them expressing their gratitude and giving previews of upcoming projects to look forward to. They’re masters at commanding a crowd, as evidenced by their engagement and loud applause at the end of it. You can already imagine Jungkook feeling even more nervous, knowing that’s not really his style, but you hope that your earlier encouragement lingers, as he walks towards the stage.

He delivers his speech flawlessly. Knowing him the way you do, you could tell he let his vulnerability shine through, even if it may not seem much to everyone else. The teaser about the Arts Center gets people excited, which he builds up on. He even slides in a few jokes that surprisingly get the audience entertained. 

A small smile paints your face and from next to you, Yoongi chuckles in almost disbelief. 

“Is it safe to say you’re proud of him?” He asks, as Jungkook walks down the stage and CEO Jeon takes the mic. 

“You could say that,” you turn to him. “It’s silly, considering how things started. I… I didn’t think I’d be genuinely rooting for him, you know? But I am. I really want him to do well.”

“That’s good to hear, ___. I guess it means that things really are changing and he’s treating you better.”

“I think they are,” you hum. “I mean, not the best, but I also don’t know what that’s supposed to look like. I guess I’m just understanding who he is a little bit better now. And I think that makes the difference.”

“Like I said, he’s not a terrible person. He just needs… someone to be patient with him, someone to show him kindness,” Yoongi says. “I think that’s what he lost along the way. He stopped being that way to himself and so did people. They just didn’t want to upset him, but they also didn’t give or show anything more.”

“You think so?”

“Why do you think it’s so hard for him to forge even the simplest and most basic connections?” Yoongi questions. “They lack meaning for him. I think he’s forgotten what that’s like. Without sincerity or kindness, without intensity or honesty, there’s just… emptiness. Everything is fleeting for him.”

“And you’re telling me this, why?” You eye him curiously. 

“Because I think your kindness did something to him.”

“And that is?”

“He’s showing a bit of that to himself, too. And I guess to others as well,” Yoongi explains. 

“I’m a mere assistant doing her job, Yoongi,” you shake your head. “It’s a little selfish but I do what I can to appease him and to make our relationship good enough to make this job bearable for me. If it makes him a better person, good for him and better for me. I’ll just keep doing it then.”

Your friend’s silence prompts you to turn towards him. He seems to be in deep thought, perhaps analyzing what you’d just said, which he tends to do. 

There’s no lie in your statement. You’d done your part of standing up to Jungkook at the start; you at least got to show you were capable of fighting for yourself in that sense. But after that, you learned that keeping things in and letting him see how his actions affect you works as well. You show kindness because it’s natural for you, but also because it keeps the peace, it keeps both of you stable. 

But you can also admit that you do all that because wanting him to know that he’s got you on his side is a way to tell yourself that you’ve got people rooting for you, too, even if you’re not the best at keeping relationships nor keeping people close. You show Jungkook what you want to experience from people; you make him feel what you want to feel. Maybe that makes you selfish. You think it also makes you human.

It’s not something you tell Yoongi, though. But maybe with the way he looks at you assuringly, you suppose he knows it, too.

The event finally ends and the guests start exiting the venue. You bid them goodbye while instructing some in-house staff about cleaning up. Mr. and Mrs. Jeon greet you on their way out, commending you for your work along with the others, and it’s their encouraging smiles that remind you of one of the reasons why you stick to this job. They’re people you don’t want to disappoint as well, and seeing them satisfied is always a good thing. 

“Hey, you’re officially off the clock,” Bitna reminds you. “A couple of us are staying for closing, remember?”

“Right,” you smile. 

They have a day off tomorrow because of tonight but it’s not something you can afford, given that you’ve got the Arts Center event one a week from now. It’s almost midnight and you’d have to be up in 5 hours.

“I’ll get going then. I’ll just say goodbye to— oh, Mr. Jeon,” you say, finding him just as you were about to look for him. “Is there anything I can help you with before I leave?”

“Oh, there’s nothing. Just, uh, how are you getting home?”

“A cab,” you answer. 

Yoongi nudges your arm from next to you with a pout on his face. “Yah! I’ll take you home. It’s not safe to take a cab this late.”

“Yes, that’s preferable, Ms. Cho,” Jungkook says. “It’s been a long night.”

“Okay, sir,” you nod. “And it has. You also did really well. I didn’t expect the jokes but they were obviously a hit. Yoongi laughed, that’s how I know.”

“You laughed, too,” Yoongi points out.

“I’m glad it worked, then,” Jungkook says. “You can get going. You can also report to my place at 8AM to give you more time to rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Jungkook heads out and rushes to the car where Mr. Ri drives him home. His mind is still buzzing from what transpired but he’s glad he managed like he said he would, like you believed he would. 

And amidst the relief that he did well and the nervousness from having to do something similar again next week, there’s you, a vision that he quickly shakes off and one he finds himself seeing after every big and small thing that he does. 

Your warm shower and your bed have never felt this good, only because you’re as tired as you are and you want nothing more than the weekend to come. But you’ve got a few more stressful days ahead of you and you try to push through them one at a time.

You go to Jungkook later than usual that Thursday then spend much of the entire day meeting with him and the team about next week’s event. You conduct a visit to the venue the next day and then spend the weekend answering guests’ queries and helping Chin-sun coordinate with suppliers. Monday and Tuesday have you going from one place to another and hopping from one meeting to the next, all while balancing your executive assistant and events manager responsibilities. 

It’s incredibly tiring, but you also won’t deny the exhilaration you feel. There’s something so satisfying about seeing everything come together, especially as you look around the venue - an industrial commercial space that Jungkook and Yoongi jointly designed specifically for tonight. The high ceilings allow for the large panels that project the Arts Center design, with bright lights Illuminating the curated sculptures and art pieces placed around. The space elicits a feeling of newness and familiarity, of hollowness and clarity. There’s integration of traditional and modern elements and essentially, of history and emergence. 

It leaves you quite breathless as you look around. It’s not even the Arts Center itself but you know that this is the emotion that Jungkook wants the guests to feel. He wants them to be in awe, to look on in excitement. 

“It’s pretty great, huh?” Yoongi asks next to you. “Worth all the hard work.”

“It is. Design and logistics did amazing in putting this together,” you say, given that you’ve spent the entire day working with both teams to set this up.

“Well, Jungkook’s vision is captivating to begin with. It really makes a difference when you’re led by a creative mind. Selling the idea won’t be so hard in a place like this.”

“I really hope so. We’re banking on the artists for exposure. There are gonna be articles about it, too. The whole process is being documented and that makes the final product much more exciting,” you explain. “I… I actually feel really good being a part of this. I’m glad I didn’t quit after that first week.”

Yoongi laughs along with you, knowing now that that experience no longer bothers you the way it used to. But he’s glad about it, too, not only because he selfishly wants you around but even more, he knew that you needed this, that you needed to feel redeemed in Jungkook’s eyes and in yours. Yoongi hopes that as the project goes on, you’ll learn more about yourself and what you want, what you’re good at, what you can give, and what makes you happy. 

“That makes both of us. I’m sure Jungkook thinks so, too,” Yoongi replies.

“Well, we’ll never know because he’ll probably never admit it but it’s a good thought,” you smile. “As long as we maintain this unproblematic dynamic, I’m good.”

“Speaking of which, where is he?”

“On the way,” you say. “He had a meeting to attend and he said he’ll be fixing up here. He should be here in a few minutes.”

Do-hyun approaches you about the photographer and you excuse yourself, instructing Yohan next to her to lead Jungkook to the waiting room when he arrives. 

Jungkook steps into the venue and like he’d hoped, he feels the energy as he takes it all in. There’s a lot of possibility as he looks around, and that’s what he wants the guests to see. He wants the artists to envision their own pieces displayed; he wants the creatives to imagine fashion shows and photo shoots and videos that come to life; he wants people to see the potential of an Arts Center beyond just looking at art pieces.

But underneath the pride is nervousness. There will be important personalities coming today and it’s his opportunity to engage with them, to make them want to be a part of this. Talking about the details of the project would be easy; it’s connecting with them that’s a challenge. He had last week’s Appointment Dinner as a trial and like you said, he did well. It’s tonight that matters so much more to him. He supposes that what happens will set the trajectory for how the promotion of the Center will go, so making a good first impression is crucial. 

Yohan approaches him and leads him towards the waiting room where his outfit, which Taehyung had pressed and sent over here, hangs on a rack. There are two magazine publications that will feature this event and both include an interview with him and some photos. 

Jungkook starts dressing up, knowing he’ll be called for those not long from now. He looks at himself in the mirror and the uncertainty fills him again. It’s not the look he would’ve gone for but his best friend was adamant that an event like this calls for something new. With his trousers and fitted shirt on, Jungkook breathes in and out, and it’s at the same time when there’s a knock on the door and your call of his name suddenly makes him nervous. 

You enter, stopping as you shut the door, your eyes a little wide, and look at him. You’re a sight to behold in your floral-laced dress and if he was anxious seconds ago, he’s even more now.

“I knew I should’ve stuck to the classic,” Jungkook sighs at your unmoving form. 

“What—what do you mean, Mr. Jeon?” You ask, finally finding your voice. 

“You’re not saying anything,” he frowns. “Tonight probably wasn’t the best time to show up in an outfit like this.”

“And why is that?” You wonder, walking closer to him now. You try to calm your racing heart because Jungkook looking this good in a checkered flared trouser and white v-neck shirt was not something you expected. “You look…”

“Pretentious?” He chuckles, shaking his head and bending towards the mirror, his angled body making you feel even hotter.

You’ve long accepted that Jungkook is a very handsome man. It’s probably why it was more frustrating despising him and, like Soomin said, also satisfying. He’s got a perfect mix of boyish and manly features with his doe eyes and chiseled jaw; the aura of confidence and nonchalance perhaps add to that as well. It also doesn’t help that he has a really good physique, something you’d seen on his first day on the job and one you’d denied affected you. You’d gotten used to it somehow. Hard as it was to suppress those thoughts every time you fixed his tie or watched him walk about his penthouse in his gym clothes, you managed. You’ve always been professional, and you’ve always reminded yourself to not let it affect you.

But tonight, it’s just hard not to, especially with the way his biceps are popping out of those short sleeves; and if the shirt were an inch tighter, you’d probably be able to trace his toned chest and abs as well. He’s cut his hair, too, slick and pushed back as if he's starring in some western rockstar film. 

“Good…” you manage to say after what seemed like minutes. “The outfit looks good on you, sir. It’s new and fresh, not like the usual formal attire that screams ‘businessman who only wants profits.’ This is posh and stylish. It makes you look more approachable.”

“This is what would make me look approachable?” He asks incredulously.

“Actually, a smile would,” you say too quickly, earning you a laugh. “But this works, too. It fits with the theme.”

“That’s what Tae said, too,” Jungkook sighs. “He insisted that at least for these Arts Center-related events, I should dress a little more boldly and more interesting, things I definitely am not but, well, I couldn’t counter him when he said that my usual prints and styles make me look like I’m just going to a meeting or some business conference.”

“And he’s not wrong,” you point out, walking closer to him. “You don’t need anything eccentric, just something exciting. This is simple yet sophisticated.”

“Have you seen the coat?” He asks, gesturing to the rack when you say no.

“Oh. There’s a corsage,” you say, admiring the matching brown checkered piece.

“An oversized one,” he rolls his eyes. 

“It looks pretty.”

“That’s what he said, too.”

“If you don’t like it, why didn’t you tell him during the fitting?”

“I did like it but it’s Tae - he’s good at convincing people that they look good. And I probably thought that, too. But he’s not yet here and he’s gonna be late so right now, all I can think about is that I’ll look ridiculous.”

“Well, that makes one of us,” you say, surprising him. “If what I think matters, then you’d have to take my word for it. The outfit looks good. It captures people’s attention and that’s what you need. You’re just gonna have to follow this up with similar styles but that wouldn’t be a problem. Just carry yourself with confidence. It’s what Mr. Kim would say.”

“I know. He texted that same line to me five times today.”

“He’s your best friend, Mr. Jeon. I’m sure he’s looking out for your best interest.”

“True, but then again, we were forced to become friends when we were young so who knows?”

You laugh at his words. “Is that so?”

“Our fathers are best friends so we spent a lot of time together,” Jungkook shares. “We were all so different and we got on each other’s nerves but I guess that made us closer. I… I wasn’t close to my brother so I just stuck with those who stuck around. It’s a good thing they turned out to be decent people.”

“They’re very kind, I should say.”

“Yeah. It sucks that their kindness didn’t rub off on me,” he says as he holds your gaze.

The tension rises as you look back at him. It’s hard not to fall into his eyes, and you’re thankful for the knock on the door and Yohan’s voice on the other side saying that the interviewer is ready for Jungkook now. 

“Five minutes,” you call out, breaking the moment and retrieving his last piece of clothing. 

You assist him in wearing his coat and just like reflex, you immediately fix the sleeves and adjust the corsage that isn’t actually that big. You look at him from head to toe and see Taehyung’s vision. There’s something captivating about Jungkook in this fit; it makes him intriguing and someone to look out for. You suppose that was the intention.

“Respectable enough?” He asks worriedly once you meet his eyes.

“Respectable enough,” you affirm, hoping your smile can give him the encouragement he needs. 

You open the door and let the first set of crew in. You watch on as they interview and take snapshots while your own team from the marketing department capture what’s happening as well. 

Jungkook sits cross-legged on the sofa, his eyes looking out into the distance as he absorbs the questions and thinks of his answers. He gesticulates as he responds, something you noticed him only ever do about topics that seem very important to him. He’s done it during meetings with the team and with Yoongi, and you suppose there’s that level of honesty that he shows then. His responses are thoughtful and profound, as the questions revolve around the type of art pieces to be displayed, how culture can be celebrated and respected, and what the public can look forward to once the Center is open to everyone. 

The next interviewer starts off with the practical questions before moving to the technicalities of the design and structure such as the materials used, the techniques utilized in renovating such a massive complex, and how the Center itself represents art and culture. This is when Jungkook fully relaxes. You see it in his body language, in the softness of his expressions, and in the mellow tone of his voice as he discusses in terms you don’t fully understand but somehow still make you feel like you know exactly what he’s talking about.

It’s different seeing him in this way. Your team vetted these interviewers and publications and they seem sincere about their articles and so you know they aren’t there to judge; Jungkook knows they aren’t there to scrutinize him. He’s not there to impress them or even to sell the idea; he just wants to share it, to make it known, to narrate the process of this project that may still be in its very early stages but which has lived in his mind for years.

He may not always be good with words but you can tell that he finds them when the ideas are clear to him. He’s able to articulate what he sees in his mind and there’s something captivating about that. There’s a lot you can learn from him, you think, and if what you develop after having stayed this long is even just a fraction of his creativity, then you’d feel accomplished. 

You can tell even more now how important this is to him, especially when he emphasizes the individual’s need and desire for connection and how he wants the Center to be a hub for that, or perhaps its creator. You wonder if he knows so much about it, or if, like you, it’s something he also constantly seeks. 

You’re so focused on taking him all in that you don’t notice that you’ve been staring. Your eyes fall on his fingers, waving about as he draws imaginary pictures; they land on his lips, pink and dry as they utter words that are perhaps the most he’s said, and suddenly, his voice is the most comforting it’s ever sounded to you. You look upwards and that’s when you notice it - his eyes are on you just as yours are on him yet he continues talking, and you hold onto it for a few seconds before you feel the heat reach your cheeks. It feels like a burn and you snap out of the spell-like feeling you were caught in as you turn away now and try to catch your breath.

You hadn’t meant to stare but you were drawn to him at that moment, and as he talked about how the designs reflect the tangibility yet elusiveness of human connection, you found yourself drowning in his words and in the way he said them. He’d caught you before you could look away, and you decide that the only way to go about it is to pretend it didn’t happen.

And that’s what you do, as you remain on your spot with your eyes scanning the room, no longer focused on him.

The interview ends right as Chin-sun enters to say that some guests have arrived. You instruct her to entertain them first with Manager Lee as you wrap up in here and it’s not long after when you’re left with Jungkook once again.

“Was that good?” He asks, his gaze on you as you look elsewhere.

“It was. You seemed more relaxed,” you state, unnecessarily fixing the couch to distract yourself. “That’s a good way to start the evening, Mr. Jeon. I’m sure the guests would enjoy speaking with you tonight.”

“That’s what I hope,” he replies. “I’ll need you close to me to keep track of scheduled meetings or any invitations. I’d also like them to be familiar with you as my assistant so they know who to reach out to in case I’m not available.”

“Of course, sir,” you say, turning around to face him again, suddenly feeling nervous about the intensity of his look. “I’ll take note of all those.” 

He nods then exits the room and you follow. You trail him as he starts to greet the guests one by one.

There are heads of private foundations and curators. There are creative directors from entertainment agencies and some art enthusiasts. There are artists and authors and poets, all of whom are intrigued and seemingly excited about what’s in store. 

Jungkook heads to the front after being introduced by Manager Lee and takes his time to introduce the project, utilizing the panels and all of the interiors’ walls to showcase the design virtually. He presents his plans and the role of artists, creatives, creators, and consumers. It’s a half hour speech that ends, followed by a light sit-down dinner that Jungkook takes advantage of to engage with the guests. 

He first greets the deputy minister of the arts and culture ministry and then Mr. Saito, who’d likewise brought some of his artist friends from Japan. 

You then follow Jungkook around as instructed, taking notes on your phone in between to list all the upcoming meetings and other activities scheduled on the spot. You’ve somehow developed this skill with Hoseok but it still doesn’t get any easier. The fact that so many of them want to touch base with Jungkook after his pitch says a lot about how well he did and how much it resonated with the people he wanted to connect with. 

Based on your notes, you can already tell it’s gonna be incredibly busy moving forward, and the thought suddenly makes your head hurt. But you push through, knowing there are more people to meet with, even with Chin-sun and Manager Lee entertaining half of them. 

Jungkook takes the stage again to introduce some of the artists whose works will be displayed in the Arts Center, and he gives them time to talk about their pieces and what drew them into the project. The company head who’s been contracted to create the products for the souvenir shop also speaks, and as they share, you feel the excitement heighten. The opening is still a long time from now but things seem so clear and so certain, and you know that was because of Jungkook - because he demands the same level of excellence he practices from others, because he’s committed to his vision and he makes sure to see it through. 

More engagement takes place, and your only breather is when Jungkook decides to talk to his father and then Hoseok but after that, you’re back to following him around and running out of calling cards for people to keep and call you in the future. 

The last of the remaining guests finally leave at 10PM. You look around and the art pieces are being carefully wrapped for transport. The panels remain but Do-hyun and Yohan will be returning in the morning to pack everything up. Slowly, you start to feel the soreness creep in and the headache intensify but you shake all the pain off. There are two more days left for the week and you just have to power through them to survive. 

“You sure you don’t want me to drive you home?” Chin-sun asks as she readies to leave.

“I live on the other side of the city from you. From all of you,” you remind them. It’s really the only reason why you don’t hitch a ride with them, especially considering that they have families and pets they go home to. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

“What about Yoongi?” Jungkook asks, surprising you because you thought he’d been on the phone. “Can’t he drive you?”

“He left an hour ago, Mr. Jeon,” you reply. “He has that early morning flight to Jeju tomorrow.”

“Mr. Ri can drive you home after he drops me off,” Jungkook says. “It’s too late in the night and it might be hard for you to get a cab.”

“Okay, sir. Thank you,” you mumble, waving everybody goodbye as you follow him towards the car. 

You get inside and find him sitting in the backseat, his coat removed and his head rolled back. You can tell all the socializing drained his energy again, and you’d hate to remind him that there’s a Property Expo next week that his father assigned him to attend, as well as a Partners’ Fellowship Dinner where he has to deliver another speech. You decide to do so in the morning instead and let the soft sounds of the radio soothe your mind.

“I think tonight was a success,” he mutters, prompting you to turn towards him. “Everyone I spoke to seemed excited.”

“They were,” you affirm. “They wouldn’t be scheduling meetings with you if they weren’t.”

“That’s true,” he hums. “That’s one major event down and several more to go.”

“I hope the team was able to show you how well we work together, Mr. Jeon. And that like me, they’re all on your side.”

Jungkook lets your words settle. He agrees. The team was like a well-oiled machine. Each member knew their roles and performed their tasks excellently. And there was you, of course, handling every one of his instructions and requests with grace. You looked really beautiful doing it, too, and he doesn’t know if he wants to thank or curse Taehyung for designing another dress that makes you stand out from the crowd because that’s what happened tonight - everywhere Jungkook looked, it seemed like all he could see was you.

He shakes away the thought, knowing that constantly acknowledging his attraction towards you would just make things harder for him the way that denying it would, and while he doesn’t have a solution for that either, he supposes that not acknowledging it at all would be the best option. 

So he focuses on the team instead, and he feels comforted to know that they worked hard because they knew how much tonight mattered to him, as Do-hyun expressed earlier. 

“I’m glad they are,” he finally replies. “I… I still don’t think I’m their favorite person but as long as they don’t despise me anymore, then I’m satisfied with that.”

“They don’t,” you counter, although even you’d know that’s a half-lie.

“They do. Or did, at least,” he laughs dryly. “It’s easy to stay unnoticed outside of the team’s office, you know?”

The tinge of sadness in his eyes confirms what you’re thinking - he’s heard some of the team conversations about him. And while you’d argue that they’re not vile or anything close to that, you also know that talking about him not smiling or not expressing his gratitude are things you shouldn’t be saying behind his back. Even if they’re true.

“I”m so, so sorry, Mr. Jeon. We–”

“It’s okay, it’s not a big deal,” he interjects. “I mean, it’s not like I haven’t given you reasons to feel that way. You all did go from Hoseok to me and that’s quite the downgrade in terms of camaraderie and stuff.”

“We still didn’t have the right to say those things. And no, I’m not agreeing that you’re a downgrade,” you clarify. “Like you said, you and your cousin are very different.”

“I did. And that’s why I’m not surprised, is all I’m saying. But despite all that, the team did amazing tonight. Not like I’d expect they wouldn’t because they prefer someone more joyful or expressive, but it… it was also nice to see them enjoying themselves. I hope you did, too.”

“It was a memorable experience, Mr. Jeon,” you say. “It’s something new. The previous projects and events we handled were either residential or commercial in nature and our creativity wasn’t pushed as far as the Arts Center is doing. And we all appreciate that, even if we may not show it.”

“That’s good. At least there’s still something that you’re all getting out of this.”

There’s a sadness in his voice that you’re hearing for the first time. You don’t know what about tonight that’s making him vulnerable and honest with you. Perhaps it’s all the talk about human connection that he seems to struggle with, and maybe he’s realizing now that even with the team performing as well as they are, there’s still something lacking in soul and emotion that he thinks is because of him. 

Whatever it is, you hope that he doesn’t let it bring him down too much. Working closely with him, you’ve come to see more of him despite his efforts to keep those layers unpeeled and you’ve come to understand him a little more. You’ve forgiven him in the process, too. The team is still adjusting and you know it’s your job to bridge that gap. You’ll just have to figure out how. 

You let the silence end the conversation, not knowing what else you can say to comfort him at this moment. But you try though, as the car stops in front of his building and you call his name right before he closes the door.

“Yeah?” He asks, looking curiously at you. 

You almost forget what you’re about to say as he’s bent forward, his arm propped on the car roof, the surrounding lights highlighting the features of his face. 

“You did great tonight, too. And I learned a lot from you. Thank you for guiding us, sir.”

He’s left speechless, as he holds your gaze for a moment before nodding and closing the door. Mr. Ri drives away and you look back to see Jungkook walk slowly towards the building entrance, briefly looking your way before disappearing inside. 

You arrive at the office the next morning at 9AM with a splitting headache, your body dragging itself towards your chair as you try to maintain balance and get yourself together. Jungkook had messaged late last night that he was going to have a breakfast meeting with his father so you could go straight to work, and given last night’s late finish, you could come at a later time as well.

That gave you another two hours of sleep, which you were thankful for considering the terrible state you were in when you woke up. Your body felt sore and the dryness of your throat signaled that you’re about to get sick - it was just a matter of when it was going to fully kick in. It’s how your body reacts to stress, a pattern you noticed since you started working in the company. It’s usually after succeeding weeks of late nights and big events when you give in - the headaches start then the sore throat; not long after, the fever hits and you’d have to spend days just doing nothing until you’ve expelled the exhaustion away. 

On rare occasions, your mother or friends come, knowing you’d be too sick to make yourself some food. But they don’t always have that luxury. They have their own lives, too, lives that they just happen to have far away from you. But it’s why it mattered that you gave Jungkook that noodle soup when he was unwell. You know what it’s like to be sick and hungry and completely helpless, and you had a feeling that just like yourself, he’d deal with it on his own. You’ll probably have to stock up on food tonight to get you through the next few days; you just hope you haven’t completely fallen apart by then.

You take your medicines and try to focus on your tasks for this morning, scheduling meetings and screening photos from last night to be used for marketing purposes. Needing some tea, you head to the pantry and briefly check in with the team before heading back. You see that Jungkook has just arrived, as he accompanied his father to one of their project sites after their meeting. He calls you over and asks if Do-hyun and Yohan have come back from fixing things at last night’s venue.

“Yes, sir, they just got here,” you reply. “Everything’s been stored properly and Chin-sun’s working on the payments already.”

“Good,” Jungkook responds. “It’s lunchtime though, so you should all grab a meal. There’s a French restaurant that just opened a block from here. I heard it’s got great reviews, so take the team there and have them order anything they want. You can just use your card to pay but it’s under the office’s budget.”

“Okay, sir. Uhm, that sounds great,” you manage to say, excitement filling you because you spent the other night watching review videos of that restaurant on YouTube and immediately told Jimin and Soomin that you’ll be eating there when they visit you the next time. “What about you though? Aren’t you joining us?”

“I… Well…”

“You don’t have any other scheduled meeting other than the one we’ll have as a team at 2:30.”

“I don’t have to go,” he answers. “You all worked hard and deserve to enjoy yourselves and I don’t think that’ll happen if I’m around. We can all debrief during the meeting but lunch is your time to get together and bond as a group.”

“You’re part of that group, too, Mr. Jeon. You are our boss,” you counter.

“Exactly.”

“But Mr. Ju–” you stop, not wanting to draw another comparison, which you said you’ll stop doing.

“I know. Hoseok would join you for lunch or dinner and the team enjoyed his presence,” Jungkook states. “I don’t think that’s the case with me. This isn’t me putting myself down but… you know that I don’t really… do things like that. I’m still learning that part of the role and I don’t want to spoil their fun.”

“You can’t really speak for the team though,” you point out.

“Well, you represent them to me. Am I wrong to assume all that?”

“No, but I think it would be a good opportunity to prove to them otherwise,” you advise.

Jungkook sighs, knowing you’ve got a point. But he insists, claiming that he’s still figuring out the team and how to relate with them. 

“I understand, Mr. Jeon,” you concede. “How about your lunch?”

“I’ll manage. You can all go ahead so you can get back on time.”

“We will. Thank you. I already know they’re going to enjoy it.”

The team is ecstatic when you tell them about lunch plans. They also only wonder about Jungkook’s presence once they’ve ordered and perhaps they’re still figuring him out, too. Much of their engagement with Jungkook is through meetings, as none of them, save for Manager Lee, feel comfortable or even free enough to just approach him. They also don’t know much about his interests or his quirks, and that puts you in the same boat as them. 

You said once that you’re not sure if you’ve gotten used to him already. Maybe slowly you are, as you look around and wish that he was here to experience this, too. Somehow you just think he’d love the duck confit dish that you eventually order for yourself. Maybe you can let him know, and he can order it on his own time. 

Lunch ends with everyone on a high from the delicious meal. Even you forget how terrible you’re actually feeling and let the laughs and scrumptious food compensate for the fatigue. 

You get back to the office and head to Jungkook as the rest of the team prepares the conference room for the meeting. You see a half-eaten sandwich on his desk and hate to think that it’s all he had while you enjoyed a fancy lunch that he ordered you all to have. He seems to pick up your thoughts as your eyes flit from him to his food and he affirms you that he’s not that hungry, given the heavy breakfast he had this morning.

“How was lunch?” He asks. 

“It was great. The food was really good. I had the duck confit that I think you’ll like and… uh, they were asking where you were.”

“They were?” 

“Yeah,” you respond. “They were wondering why you didn’t join us.”

“What did you say?”

“That you were on a conference call,” you say. You didn’t like that you had to lie to them about it, but you also didn’t want to use that time to talk about Jungkook behind his back again. “Yohan said that it’s understandable; you’re always busy and he doubts you get a break while you’re here.”

“Oh. Well, he’s not wrong.”

“We had a good time though, and I’m sure they’ll tell you later but thank you. It’s nice seeing the team enjoy themselves. I wish you could see it, too.”

“Maybe one day,” he says sullenly, standing up right after to head to the meeting with you.

The room quiets down when you both arrive and Jungkook feels once more the shift in their disposition once he joins them. He can’t fault them for it knowing that’s because of him, but as time passes and the more he talks about the value of human connections - which the Arts Center aims to foster - the more he starts to think of exactly what he’s missing by keeping himself too far a distance from everyone else around him. 

His father tries, he can tell. Most of their breakfast or lunch or dinner meetings aren’t actually meetings, and he supposes it’s just his old man’s way of spending time with him by disguising it as something work-related, knowing that Jungkook wouldn’t be into it if it wasn’t. His mother asks him over to their house on some weekends for lunch, her own way of reconnecting with him after years of being apart, but even with that, Jungkook just gives the bare minimum. 

He doesn’t not like them; he just stopped being close to them at some point and he didn’t really care to mend it as he grew older. The women he sleeps with don’t count since he doesn’t even really talk to them, and other than Taehyung and Seokjin, and occasionally Yoongi, who keep up with his attitude, there really isn’t anyone else whom he thinks enjoys his presence enough to want to have him around. 

He doesn’t know about you though, but he makes an educated guess and thinks there’s not much of him you’d miss just like anyone, and while the thought stings a bit, it’s one he tries to live with.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Jeon,” Manager Lee greets and implores the others to do the same. “Thank you again for lunch. It was really delicious and pretty fancy. I wish I’d worn a prettier tie than the one I have right now.”

“Your tie looks fine, Manager Lee,” Jungkook replies.

“Ms. Cho said you were busy, that's why you weren’t there,” Do-hyun boldly says. “Hopefully next time you can join us. I mean, not to assume you’ll treat us again, although that would be nice, but–” 

“Do-hyun just wanted to say thank you,” Chin-sun butts in. “And that we understand you have so many things going on, Mr. Jeon, so hopefully, when you have time in the future, you can join us for a meal, too.”

“That, uh, that would be fine, yes,” he mumbles, taking his seat and avoiding looking at everyone except you. “Let’s start the meeting.”

You’re there for over two hours, rehashing the entire process, given that it’s the first event out of many that the team organized. Jungkook is generous in complimenting everyone, including you, and he gives updates on the interest generated and all the artists he’ll be meeting in their respective studios as a result. 

The Ministry of Culture minister likewise pledged support, promising a linkage with the international media festival organizers like Jungkook had hoped. You’ve all accomplished so much in so little time, but the rest of the timeline shows that there’s still so much ground to cover. You plan the next steps and then spend half an hour talking about the other small projects that the VP’s office is managing before Jungkook adjourns the meeting and orders you all to head home to get some rest while he stays behind to work some more.

You follow him this time, trying your best to be stable as you take the bus home. You manage to buy some beef bone soup on the way for dinner, and once that’s all finished and you take a long hot shower to hopefully get rid of the stress in your body, you plop down on your bed and fall asleep with no warning at all. 

You wake up in the middle of the night, your clogged nose keeping you from breathing. With puffy eyes, you search for your eucalyptus inhaler and take your medicine before going back to bed and hoping that when you wake up, you’ll feel less terrible than you do right now. 

But you don’t, as you wake up to your alarm not long after and feel even worse. Your body is sore, your head feels heavy, and it’s a struggle to even turn to your side to try to pull yourself off the bed. Knowing there’s no way you’ll manage today, you call Mr. Ri and inform him that you’re unwell and can’t make it to work. 

“I can’t even type nor talk properly right now,” you tell him. “Can you–”

“I’ll tell Jungkook, don’t worry,” he assures you. “And just to remind you, you’re sick, okay? So stay in bed, don’t do chores or anything, and don’t think about work for even a second. You hear me? And update me on how you are.”

“Yes,” you cough out. “Thank you.”

You lie underneath the covers and hope to the heavens that more sleep would make you feel a bit of relief and it does, given that when your phone rings five hours later, you don’t feel like your head is splitting apart. 

“Good, you’re awake,” Mr. Ri says on the other end after you greet him. “Can you open your door?”

“Okay, just give me a few minutes. I’m exceptionally slow this morning.”

Mr. Ri laughs but tells you to take your time. You put on a hoodie over your gray sweatpants and briefly wash your face before opening the door. 

“Work’s got to you, huh?” He asks worriedly as he stands in front of you. “Is it bad enough to warrant a visit to the hospital? I can drive you there.”

“I’ll manage,” you mumble. “But what are you doing here, Mr. Ri? Mr. Jeon has a meeting in an hour.”

“I know. But he wanted me to give you this.”

The older man initially hands you a large paper bag but decides to just place it on your table given your weak state. He removes the containers of chicken noodle soup, rice porridge, and soybean sprout soup, boxes of soft bread, and a small jar of yuja marmalade for tea. 

“What–”

“Your meals for the next few days so you don’t have to worry about preparing them,” Mr. Ri says. “Jungkook wants you to focus on resting. He wants you to take Monday off, too.”

You look at him and suddenly feel like crying. You knew that waking up, you’d be worrying about what to eat, given that you barely have ingredients to work with. You also don’t have the energy to make anything, especially something that’d help with your health. Jungkook just relieved you of that, and at a time like today, you feel what it’s like to be cared for. And though you can argue with him using his own words - your health isn’t his responsibility - you won’t pretend that it doesn’t give you comfort knowing that he’d made the effort to buy all this and have them brought to you. 

You talk a little bit more before he heads out, and you lead him to the door where you look across the street where the car is parked. Your eyes may be puffy but you don’t miss the silhouette behind that backseat window. 

“How is she?” Jungkook asks as Mr. Ri enters the car and slowly drives away.

“She looks like someone who’s been working hard these past months and in need of rest. She says it’s normal but this is probably the worst. These few days off will be good for her.”

“I hope so, too.”

“She’s thankful for the food, Jungkook,” the older man says. “I know she’d probably say you didn’t have to but I could tell it meant a lot to her. She doesn’t always ask for help, you know? It’s good you’re somehow letting her know that she can count on you when she needs you. If this is you making it up to her, you’re on the right path.”

Jungkook hums in acknowledgement, although unsure what it means for him. Is it to compensate? To apologize again? To return the favor because you’d done it first? Is it to let you know that he has your back, too, the way you’ve been showing him that you have his? 

He’s alerted by a message, your name on his screen somehow making his heart jump. It’s a text message and not one from the usual messaging app you both use for work purposes because, well, that’s really the only thing you talk about.

[From: EA Cho] Thank you, Jungkook. I really appreciate it.

It’s the use of his name. It’s the sincerity in your simple words. 

He smiles to himself. 

Whatever it means to you, he knows it means another thing to him. He doesn’t want you to feel alone. And that in the coldest nooks of his uncaring heart, he actually does care for you. For this moment, he’ll acknowledge it. For this moment, he’ll let himself feel it. He can only hope you feel it, too.

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[hemmingsleclerc]

Prom Night┃OP81

summary: u go to prom with your bf oscar <3 but I love the drama

Y/N couldn't wait for prom. As a senior, the night she had been waiting for years was about to happen. But there was something different about Y/N compared to her friends; She had a secret, or at least that was what everyone thought and rumors said.

In the hallways of her school, the whispers grew louder and louder. "Y/N is with her imaginary boyfriend again," they said, as if their words were just to get attention.

"He's tall, with brown hair and a beautiful smile," Y/N insisted when they asked her what her boyfriend was like. "And he's not from around here; he's Aussie."

Her ''friends'' rolled their eyes, unconvinced. "Sure, Y/N," they said, exchanging mocking glances behind her back.

Prom night was approaching and the doubts were growing stronger. But despite all the comments they said behind her back, she knew that her boyfriend would be there for her on that important night, even if no one else believed it.

Y/N took a deep breath and dialed the number she knew by memory. "Hey, it's me," she said with a shaky voice when he responded. "Are you still up for prom?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line before a soft voice answered, "Of course, my love. I wouldn't miss it for the world."

That made Y/N release the breath she had been unconsciously holding.

And true to his word, when the night of the prom came, there he was: tall, brown hair, with that same charming and cute smile that Y/N had fallen in love with. Her Oscar.

When Oscar first saw Y/N in her beautiful dress, he felt like he could faint from how beautiful she looked. He couldn't contain the big smile that adorned his face when she ran into his arms when she saw him again. Also, Oscar gave Y/N a surprise when he took her hand to put the famous ''corsage'' on her, because he wanted to do things right so that his girlfriend had one of the best nights of her life.

When Y/N entered the place hand in hand with Oscar, she felt a mixture of nerves and excitement. But all her doubts were quickly disolved when Oscar took her hand, gave her a spin and took her to the dance floor, where both of them, even though they didn't know how to dance, made their best effort and had fun.

However, in the middle of all the joy of the night, Y/N couldn't ignore the whispers that could still be heard over the music. She caught cruel words towards her by those who had doubted her all along.

''Clearly that's not Y/N's boyfriend, she's too stupid to have such a cute guy by her side.''

Y/N felt embarrassed hearing that. But before she could say or do anything, she felt Oscar's grip tighten around her hand, without actually hurting her.

"Who said that?" His voice was low, a different tone than usual.

Y/N's heart beat faster as she watched Oscar's usually calm attitud break, replaced by a slightly stronger one. With a quick glance around the room, he saw the group of girls and boys who had been talking about her, their faces expressing surprise at realizing they had been caught.

''Wait for me here darling'', Oscar let go of Y/N's hand and crossed the room, with determined steps. The crowd parted before him, a silence falling over the room as all eyes turned to watch the situation unfold.

"You got something to say mate?" he said.

The girls and boys stutter, not being able to meet Oscar's gaze, his presence felt heavy on the room.

''If you're not such a coward, say it in front of my face, because I won't tolerate people speaking shit about my girlfriend'' his anger palpable in the air.

The girls and boys exchanged nervous glances, backing away from Oscar's gaze. They had hoped to make fun of Y/N without consequences, but they had never anticipated her boyfriend.

With one last sharp look, Oscar turned on his heel and returned to his girl, his jaw clenched in barely contained fury. When he reached her side, he took her hand in his, her hold was reassuring and comforting as he hid his face in her neck.

''Thank you very much for that, Osc, but it really wasn't necessary,'' she said as she play her boyfriend's hair.

''Of course it was necessary darling, they should never talked like that about you, ever. I hope they learned or I wouldn't mind running them with my car later'' Oscar said ''Even so, they shouldn't have talked about my girl like that''

''I love you''

''I love you too darling''

ynln

Liked by oscarpiastri, yourbestfriend and 139,535 others

ynln prom w my baby ��🪩

username So this is oscar's mysterious gf!!!

username she's so pretty omg

oscarpiastri love you my girl ❤️

[tragedy-of-commons]

fuck it we ball. hsr prom date hcs because i am on something different tonight. based on my very limited experience.

dan heng

he's painfully awkward. like you expected it when you asked him to be your date but it's even worse than you predicted...

he DID pick you up and he WAS almost an hour early, causing you to rush down the stairs and almost trip (not very magical-teen-coming-of-age-moment-like of you). that kind of lightened the mood though.

also painfully sweet! upon your arrival he gives you a boutonniere/corsage that matches your outfit which he had managed to keep hidden. his sweaty palms were not just because he was nervous, then...

march helped him pick it out, he admits with red-tipped ears. that makes sense, because she was suspiciously interested in what you were wearing to the function.

but he did also forget to pick out one for him. oops.

during the slow dance bit, his hands are sweaty. you don't care because your eyes lock and there's the fuzziness curling in your gut that plagues you whenever you're with dan heng.

overall, a good experience! polite and always willing to humor your whims, even if he's a little stiff.

and if you peck him on the cheek after he walks you back to your doorstep, well, that's alright with him. more than alright.

black swan

life of the party. not in a screaming-getting-way-too-into-the-music kinda way, but in the way that everyone wants a sliver of her attention. she's always relaxed, interesting to talk to, and dreamy to boot! it wouldn't be any different at prom.

but black swan, above all else, wants to just... spend time with you. anyone that wants to chat can wait until later, when she's not watching you stuff snacks into your pockets with a fond look in her faraway eyes.

to commemorate the occasion, you're cajoled into the photobooth where you both hold up props and make funny faces for the camera. you know black swan doesn't cherish much above memories, even if they're immortalized in a gag reel where you're clad in silly-straw glasses and her in a purple mustache.

but in the last photo, right before the camera flashes, she sneaks a kiss on your cheek. your eyes are blown wide in surprise in the picture and that's her favorite part!

surprisingly adept at dancing. depending on your taste, she will either dip you dramatically and take the lead, or fall into your steps and try to make you feel more comfortable if you're nervous.

cherishes any memento from the event. she does the teasing, though, so don't get any ideas about poking fun at her for being sappy.

a great date, i dare say.

aventurine

it's a given that both of you look the best. dressed to the nines.

the whole thing is a bit sensationalized, though. mostly because he's used to everything being treated like a spectacle, aventurine tries his best (while looking like he isn't trying at all) to give you a good time.

his saving grace is that... he's here with you. everything is more enjoyable this way, even the distastefully loud music matches the pulse in his ears when he looks at y💥💥

his favorite part of the event, surprisingly, is when you ask him to ditch with you early. makes a little joke like "wow, are you having that bad of a time with me?" but there's a bit of weight behind it that you can sense. anyway, you answer by rolling your eyes and pulling him outside.

away from the noise, pretenses drop and You Hold His Hand, telling him that any time with him is a good time. but this is infinitely better, even if you're both just stood in the parking lot.

you both decide to stay a little longer. at the end of the night, the principal gets into one of those dunking booths for the children to throw balls at to get them dunked in water. aventurine bets you a date that he'll hit the target.

you know he'll win (his luck kind of scares you), so of course you take him up on that wager, very excited to lose. it's very sweet.

lol he does hit the target

you both are prom celebrities for the rest of the night with another date set in stone a week from now!

kafka

imo she would make the best date out of everyone on this list.

mostly because any outing with kafka is almost cataclysmic in its impact... starting when she pops over at your place to help you get ready! surprise!

zips you up/adjusts your lapels/make sure your makeup looks good/whatever is part of this whole routine for you. she does so while humming a dulcet tune. she wants to be involved with every aspect of your pivotal prom experience tbh. keen on making memories like black swan is, but the effort is unconscious.

also. since blade has his driver's license, she basically bribed him into being your chauffeur for the night. i think that'd be a fun detail.

if you suck at dancing, never fear, because she also isn't very good (or so she says, but she's kafka, so of course she makes it work).

is not opposed to silly photobooth pics but she'd rather have someone take a candid of you both together by persuading them nicely - more her speed.

her eyes are ENCHANTING in that dim lighting... i just know... you get so distracted that you trip over her feet. silver wolf, the resident DJ that the school hired, sees and laughs.

has that tattered jacket thrown over whatever she decides to wear. she drapes it over you if you get cold due to the weather or temperature inside of the building.

[pretty-little-mind33]

Dave Lizewski x fem!reader

Summary: You convince your best friend to take you to Prom—only as friends, of course.

Prompt: friends to lovers - "don't bite your lip, bite mine."

DAVE LIZEWSKI MASTERLIST

BLURB MASTERLIST

"Damn Davey, you look so dapper," Todd jokes almost meanly as soon as he walks into the gym and sees his best friend. Poor Dave instantly tightens his grip on your hand and narrows his eyes. 

"Shut up," he hisses, his cheeks a bright pink.

Your hand is still in Dave's and when you hear Todd, you turn to glare at him. "Jealous you don't have a date, Haynes?" you quip and turn to adjust the little rose in Dave's suit pocket that matches the colors in the corsage on your wrist.

You smile up at him, which only makes his cheeks turn even pinker. 

"Whatever, Y/l/n," Todd adds, laughing, "At least I didn't need a pity date."

You hate the way Todd is with Dave sometimes—although Dave always insists it's banter, sometimes it just feels mean.

You glare at Todd and say with a hiss, "You're an ass," and then you're pulling Dave away and towards where the center of the gym where your classmates are dancing.

It's upbeat music for the moment and Dave is clumsy in his movement as you dance around him. His eyes are stuck on yours.

"Loosen up will you?"

"You look very pretty tonight."

You and Dave say at the same time, your eyes widening and you both laugh a little. You wrap your arm around Dave's shoulder, still dancing to the music.

"Thanks, Davey," you whisper, your eyes sparkling. "You look very handsome," you echo his compliment, meaning every word. He does look handsome—but then again, he always looks handsome. 

He hums and his cheeks turn pink again. The song turns from dancey to slow and you lock gazes. Dave's hands wander to your waist as you lean into the dance. This feels so natural, as if your bodies are made to be molded into one soul. Dave presses himself closer, his head near your hair as he inhales your scent.

You smell heavenly. 

"Thanks for coming with me tonight," you say, "I really didn't want to go alone."

"Of course," Dave answers instantly, his breath by your ear, "anything for you," he adds in a whisper. 

Your chest feels warm and you look up at him, your hands sliding down to lay on his chest. Your smile widens and something in the air shifts because your eyes downcast to his lips. They've never looked prettier. He senses your gaze and his heart leaps. Instinctively, his teeth sink into his bottom lip. 

"Don't bite your lip, Lizewski, bite mine," you tell him boldly, unable to keep the thought inside you any longer.

Dave's eyes widen but you sense him leaning in closer and he hums as a question. Your eyes flutter shut and almost automatically, your lips meet.

It's short and sweet, his warm hands moving up to your cup cheeks as his lips linger on yours until he suddenly remembers you're in the middle of the school gym, surrounded by all your classmates.

He pulls away. "Sorry," he mumbles, embarrassed, "I didn't mean to kiss you like that—in front of everyone. I- this really wasn't how I had planned this moment," he admits, his cheeks a flaming red now and your eyes soften. You can feel his nervousness. 

"You had a plan?" you tease.

Dave nods instantly. "A stupid plan."

"Why don't you let me judge that," you say with a grin and wrap your arms around him again, holding him closer as you kiss his cheek and whisper in his ear, "because this is exactly how I planned this, baby."

tags: @earth-elemental18, @lqrlei

[gag-me-munson]

Prom Date

Pairing: Eddie x Fem!reader

Warnings: None really. Mentions of oral on Eddie but it's not explicitly written. Mostly fluff today.

"She was supposed to be here already," Eddie was frantic around the trailer. His Uncle, Wayne, trailing behind, "Or was I supposed to get her? How do these things even work?"

"Just settle down and let me fix your bow tie, boy." Wayne was huffing, slightly annoyed by Eddie's insecurities but also smiling through it because Eddie was finally doing something, well, normal.

Groaning loudly, Eddie hangs his head and walks towards his uncle and gritting his teeth. Prom was definitely not his idea of a fun time, but you had promised him road head to make up for it. Reluctantly Eddie agreed to this plan, but only after begging him for another five minutes.

"What if she doesn't like this stupid flower thing I got? You picked it out anyways, how about you go instead?" Eddie trying to get out at the last minute was so him. Especially for something that made him feel like more of an outcast.

"It's called a corsage, Eddie." Wayne mumbles and lifts his nephew's head up to fix the bow tie. "You said her dress was purple, right?"

"Well, she calls it lavender." Eddie says sarcastically, waving his hands in the air before running one through his hair, cursing under his breath and running straight back to the mirror to fix it. He wanted tonight to be over with already, to have you sneak back into his bed after a smoke and cuddle you.

"Well, white goes with anything," Wayne calls out after Eddie, "even lavender." He chuckles and after a moment there's a small knock at the door.

Wayne answers it and smiles when he sees you all dressed up. Sure enough, it's a lavender shade of purple, to the knees with ruffled sleeves. Small black heels adorn your feet and you have on one of your mother's necklaces.

"Well, darlin'," He grins broadly and ushers you into the small trailer, "don't you look nice. Eddie, your date is here, now leave your hair alone and get going!"

At first Wayne had been unsure of you, knowing the type of girl Eddie usually went for around the park, but after watching you help him not only with his homework but listen to his nephew go on and on about the latest dragons and dungeons- or whatever it was called, he didn't pay much attention- campaign, he changed his mind completely.

Eddie rushes past you to the fridge and quickly pulls out a plastic container. He shuffles towards you, blushing with ferocity so much that even his ears are red, and brings out the white rose corsage.

"I got this for you..." and as he takes it out of the packaging, Eddie places the beautiful flower around your wrist with a gentle ease.

"It's perfect, Eddie." You smile and lift his chin up so that his deep brown eyes meet your own. "Thank you."

He finally offers you his famous grin and nods fervently, "yeah, no problem."

"Alright kids, off you go before you miss the damn dance." Wayne hurries you both out as he lights the cigarette in his mouth, waving goodbye.

After helping you into the van, Eddie hops into the driver's side and starts up, turning the volume dial down.

You had offered, many times on the way, to give Eddie the road head you'd promised but in his words, "I'll fuck up the tux, I know it." And that was that.

Usually he had his free hand on your leg but tonight he was anxiously playing with the rings on that hand, biting his bottom lip and paying more attention to the road than usual. He was so nervous to be out of his element and around the "normal" kids that he just was shutting down.

"Why, Eddie Munson," you venture and take his hand into both of yours, "I have never seen you like this before. It's just a dance!"

"Yeah, just a dance," he scoffs and exhales loudly, "where everyone will be staring because I can't do that. Dance, I mean."

You kiss the top of his hand and let it rest on your lap, shaking your head, "I don't care about them. You shouldn't either. I'm going because I wanted to dance with you. To show you off because you are worth showing off, Eddie."

At the stoplight, Eddie seems to relax, his shoulders moving down from his ears and he looks at you quickly with a faint smile. "I love ya, babe." He grins and starts driving again after the go from green.

After the short drive and finding a parking spot nearer the back, away from the rest of the cars headed towards the school, Eddie gets out and comes to your side. He opens the door as you grab your dress and hop out, thanking him.

"Well, here we go." He sighs and offers his hand. You take it and give it a squeeze of confirmation, letting your boyfriend know that you're more than ready.

The music is loud and it's a faster song, most definitely pop music, too. You laugh at the look on Eddie's face before you point to where a line of people are waiting to get their portrait taken in front of a simple paper backdrop.

"Oh come on, we have to!" You say with glee and before Eddie can even begin to say "nope", you're dragging him to the line.

He is completely and totally out of his element and you can tell how nervous he is, so when it's your turn for a photo, you make Eddie stand behind you and wrap his arms around your waist. You look up and behind to him and smile brightly before the photo is taken and the girl taking them is now onto the next.

"See... that wasn't so bad." You grin and notice a slower song is finally on. His hand in yours, you take Eddie to the dance floor and stand in front of him.

"Now, I know you can do this. We've danced in the trailer hundreds of-"

You're cut off with a kiss and Eddie wrapping his arms around your waist, yours going around his neck. He's blushing again.

"No one needs to know what we do in private." He rests his forehead on yours and chuckles as you smile back.

Cyndi Lauper blares her "Time After Time." In the background and as clichéd and overplayed as it is, you can hear Eddie singing it to you in a near whisper of a voice. You pull your head away and look into his eyes, his watching you as his mouth sings the words to you, making you feel like the only person in the dressed up gym.

"If you're lost, you can look and you will find me. Time After time..."

School will be ending soon and who knows what will happen with you and this amazing boy, so you can only gulp hard, blink your oncoming tears away and hug Eddie close.

"I know we're young... and I know this is stupid, but I want you. Forever." He whispers your name into your ear and butterflies begin to spread throughout your stomach. Can he really be asking you-

"Be my wife. Please..." With now fresh tears you once again take a look into those beautiful and dark brown eyes, searching for the joke or at least the sarcasm.

"What'd you just ask me?"

With a newfound confidence, Eddie grins from ear to ear, picking you up so you can't run away when he loudly declares, "I love you and I want you to marry me!"

You're blushing now but your eyes still don't leave his, not even as the other people in the gym look or roll their eyes at the pair of you.

"Oh Eddie," you sigh dreamily as he sets you slowly down, "Eddie Munson, '86 is definitely your year."

-------

Tags: @after4evrr

[welcometololaland]

WIP WEDNESDAY! (can you believe it?! carlos can't! this is from the 10 things i hate about you au i hope to start posting on sunday <3)

“So, are you going to answer my question?” Carlos asks, prodding TK in the side. They’re getting more tactile as the weeks go on, and he’s decided to lean into it. It’s too easy to convince himself that it’s a good idea.

TK snorts. “The prickly thing? That was a statement, not a question.”

“Let me rephrase,” Carlos says. “Why are people under the impression that TK Strand is prickly?”

“You don’t think I’m prickly?”

The deflection is so obvious it makes Carlos rolls his eyes, even though TK can’t see him do so. “You’re the biggest marshmallow I’ve ever met in my life, TK. You followed me around like a lost puppy for weeks trying to be my friend.”

“I did not,” TK protests darkly, sounding highly offended. It loses its effect by virtue of the fact that he’s still got his head resting on Carlos’ shoulder.

“Are you gonna tell me why you’re threatening to beat up freshmen?”

“No one said that…did they?”

“No,” Carlos admits. “But someone told me you started a bar fight.”

TK groans. “That was one time,” he insists. “I’m a changed man.”

tagging: @bonheur-cafe @rmd-writes @liminalmemories21 @strandnreyes @emsprovisions

@alrightbuckaroo @ironheartwriter @lemonlyman-dotcom @corsage @freneticfloetry

@butchreyes @reyesstrand @heartstringsduet @carlos-in-glasses @irispurpurea

@whatsintheboxmh @three-drink-amy @littlemissmarianna @orchidscript @dumbpeachjuice

@kiwiana-writes @lightningboltreader @eclectic-sassycoweyes @birdclowns @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut

@nancys-braids @captain-gillian @st-elle-ar @anactualcaseofthetruth @basilsunrise and anyone else who wants to play! sorry im super out of the loop so if you want to be tagged in these or DON'T want to be tagged, please reach out 💜

[descendantsramblings]

Hook and morgie Seperate x Fem!chubby reader who is insecure?

For the sake of this being easy to navigate by how I do my theme I’m doing this in two posts but I promise you, I am answering them both.

Find Morgie's half of this request here.

Red Dress

James Hook x Chubby!Reader

Pronouns used: she/her/hers

Summary: He just wanted to make sure that Castlecoming would be perfect, what would catch people's attention more than them perfectly matching? Who would have thought he'd upset her with his choice of dress?

Warnings: body image issues, Hook is a little possessive, Suggestive comments but they're meant to be playful and teasing not as something to take seriously, reader is implied to dress a touch alternative, she calls Hook baby + Hook canon pet names

Word Count: 1.7K

    “Just give me your size and I’ll buy your dress for castlecoming.” She should have known he’d do something like this. Hook wasn’t exactly blind when it came to fashion, the girl knew that. God knew he could spend just about as much as she could in a makeup store.  But he was also a man, even worse a teenage boy. She should have known letting him pick her dress would lead to her in something straight out of one of his fantasies. The silky maroon slip dress was exactly something he’d pick. Leaving the girl perfectly replicating the color of his signature jacket, knowing the pirate he’d held the fabrics up to his sleeve to get the best color match he could. He would eat it up, the dress being just another reminder to onlookers that she was spoken for. His, the lady of the Captain, not a treasure to be stolen. But the cowl neckline drew far too much attention to her chest, the silky fabric clinging far too closely to her stomach. She hated it, everything about the dress would bring your eyes to everywhere she didn’t want people looking with nothing to hide behind.

    The door behind her creaks open as she stares in the mirror, changing angles in hopes of finding a way to look at the thing that made her feel at least slightly presentable. “Alright, where’s my darling gi- Why aren’t you ready?” The boy cuts himself off, crossing his arms as he frowns. He looked near charming, decked out in a matching maroon blazer and a silky white button up. A black tie around his neck with red and white boutonniere pinned to the lapel of the jacket, fresh baby's breath and a carnation making up the little arrangement. She can see a clear plastic container in his hand holding a matching corsage that warms her heart a touch. With black slacks capped off by a pair of dress shoes instead of his normal boots. James Hook looked absolutely dashing tonight, and it only made her feel worse. “I can’t,” she nearly croaks, shaking her head as she gestures over herself. “You can’t what, Love? What’s wrong?” He places the container of flowers down on her desk walking over to rest a hand on her shoulder. 

    “James, look at me. I get your vision and maybe if I was smaller it would-” He puts a finger to her lips shaking his head, “Do not start with that. I don’t want to hear anything about you needing to be smaller. I picked that one because I knew you would look hot, and you do. The way that dress is hugging you makes me not want to take you somewhere some other bloke can see you. He’ll try to steal you right off of me.” He presses a kiss to her cheek, walking over to her closet, “Tell me what exactly is bothering you and we can find something to fix it.” “Hook we can’t fix all of me, the dance would be over by about two years if we did.” He turns, pointing the golden appendage at her, “Don’t call me that and stop talking badly about my lass. Now, chest, tummy, legs, what’s making us not like the super hot dress I picked out?” She huffs, crossing her arms over herself as she falls into her desk chair, spinning it ever so slightly with her foot. “My chest and stomach, this fabric clings to them in all the wrong ways.” 

     He nods, shuffling through the hangers in front of him as he searches for something, “I can help with that. Thank you for deciding to actually be helpful.” Her lips fall open and her eyebrows raise, “I can just stay here if you want to act like that.” Hook hums, pulling a hanger from the closet and setting something black out on her bed. “You will be staying here if you don’t start your hair and makeup. Now, chop chop, I want something pretty to mess up later.” He cuts his eyes to her as he says it, watching the way his lover’s face flushes at the filthy comment, her hands moving to slide open the drawer she keeps her makeup in. “You are vile, James Hook.” “Perhaps, but it got you to do what I wanted, did it not?” 

    As (Y/n) busies herself on her makeup, James continues to go through her closet, finding her signature black boots in the bottom of it and taking them over to where he’d laid her leather jacket, letting them fall to the floor beside the bed. Hook crosses the room swiftly, searching through her dresser drawers to find a pair of tights. He'd prefer those small hole fishnets that made it hard to keep his hands off her legs but he’d take what he could get. Something to make her look more her own style in the dress he oh so adored on her. He thought the way it hung on her made her otherworldly, but he needed her to feel beautiful in it. It doesn’t matter how he feels about the outfit if she hated it. After about ten minute of him searching through her sock drawer she speaks up, finished with her base by this point. “If you’re looking to steal panties, you’re in the wrong drawer.” His eyes roll, chuckling as he turns to her, “Where are those fishnets I like on you? The one with the little holes.” 

   “Top drawer, to the left of it. Black or red eyeshadow?” He moves to grab the handle, “Red, do eyeliner and a black lip with it though. And if you can add some white in there, do it.” He finally finds the stupid tights he’d spent so long searching for, throwing them over his arm as he slides the drawer closed. The little cherry wood jewelry box that sat on the girl’s dresser was overflowing, his own doing of course. Hook couldn’t help but bring her some sort of spoils every time that he came back from a voyage, the look in her eyes always seemed to be priceless, you couldn’t show him something better. He takes it over to her bed with him, falling onto the plush comforter and laying the tights on her jacket as he opens the box. He took a few ruby rings from the box, laying them with everything else he’d picked for her. A silver chain that hung close to her neck when it was on, a singular onyx stone embedded in it. A pair of silver hoop earrings join the ever growing pile he was building. And if he knew her, there would be a string of pearls in the second drawer, the one she considered her special section of the box. It was the first of many presents he’d given her, and by far the most expensive of them. She’d only worn it once, the first time he put it on her. 

     James smiles, getting up to stand behind her, necklace hanging from his hook. She was applying mascara, making a concentrated and wide mouthed expression in the mirror as he undoes the clasp of the necklace. “How are you doing your hair?” He drapes the delicate string around her neck, brushing her hair off her neck so he can clasp it. “Oh I don’t,” her hand comes up to brush over the pearls, black nails a stark contrast against them, “I’m not sure.” He hums, reaching for her lipstick as he kneels in front of her, “Well, I have everything else you need out, so how about you let me finish this for you while you start your hair?” She nods, mumbling a soft “please” as she moves her hands to mess with her hair. He can’t help the smile on his face as he looks at her, she’s gorgeous. 

                                 ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆

      Hook sits in her desk chair, tapping his foot impatiently as she finishes getting dressed. He wanted to see her, knowing she looked good but not looking at her was driving him mad. “About done, Love?” She laughs, and he knows that she’s shaking her head at him. “You can turn around now.” (Y/n) was always stunning, but there decked out in his colors with that silk framing her just right, he was putty in her hands. “Have you seen how gorgeous you look yet?” He grabs the corsage from its packaging as he speaks, making his way up to his date. “I’m scared to look. What if I look silly?” James uses his hook to lift her hand, sliding the flowers around her left wrist with his good hand. “You, my love,” he kisses the back of her hand, keeping hold of it as he stands straight again, “Could never look silly. Now, turn around and look at my amazing handiwork so I can drag you out of this little room.” His hands spin her around as he speaks, the boy standing firmly behind her with his hands planted on her shoulders. 

     Her eyes flicker over her own reflection, looking herself up and down with a softly growing smile. “You know baby, I don’t actually think you should stay a pirate.” He hums, leaning over her shoulder to press a kiss to her cheek, “Is that so?” She nods, leaning back into the boy’s adoring touch. “I think you should definitely be a women’s stylist. Look at what you did.” “I have a perfect model,” he mumbles into her hair, letting his hand slide down her leather clad arm. The boy had perfectly managed to mask her insecurities. The jacket giving her a crutch to hide behind and shadow over her and her accessories made it feel more her. The string of pearls and onyx complimenting each other in such a way that you didn’t bother to look at the neckline of her dress, far too distracted by the jewels. It was a nearly perfect outfit. Who taught him that? She decided she probably didn’t want to know, that could be his secret. His lips move down to her ear, whispering, “Now, if you want anyone to actually see us, we have to go. I want to go wow the crowd.” She lets a giggle escape her lips, turning to kiss his cheek, smiling at the mark she leaves on it, “Thank you.” In response, he just smiles at her, grabbing her hand to drag her out of the room. She had been calmed down, now it was time for him to show his girl off- and he couldn’t wait.

[heartstringsduet]

Happy Wednesday. Have a snippet of A Few Moons Ago before I have to scurry away. It's a bit wolf/ a/b/o coded so don't reblog if you dont feel it. You can always let me know if you want to be tagged or not <3 Thanks for the tags @thisbuildinghasfeelings

“We can be a lot,” TK amends, though he doubts he can hide the glow of his heart at Carlos admitting to loving his pack family. 

“I had a great time,�� Carlos says, scratching the back of his nails on TK’s underarm, while TK retraces lines on Carlos’ scalp. “Remind me though. We think that Pearce is…”

“A douchebag. But I guess he’s our annoying douchebag, so don’t hate him too hard.”

Carlos answers with a hum, then slides his face further up TK’s lap until his nose can nudge up the lower hem of his shirt. “You smelled a bit of him.” 

His lips brush against bared skin of gentle stomach folds. 

“You know best how alphas are,” TK says, breathlessly as Carlos slips his tongue into his navel. “You all have a possessive streak that gets worse the closer we get to full moons. I’m sure I also smelled of Marjan and Judd.”

“You did. But I like them. It’s Pearce I don’t trust with you,” Carlos says against his tummy. His lips are tinged darker when he lifts his head. “He smells weird.”

TK snorts. “Oh my god, yes! Like he applies extra musk every morning after breakfast!” 

Carlos slides up higher tilts his head to bare the side of his neck to TK. “Do I smell better to you?”

TK’s mouth dries as he draws his fingers over Carlos’ pulse point, tracing its rapid beats filling the silent room.

“Your smell makes me hungry,” he says, then licks the same path his fingers took.

Sometimes being closer to the moon days is overwhelming, the smells and sounds clanging around in a body that adjusts, but TK loves the way he can now smell Carlos in every corner of his house again, the potency of it making him want to twists his back over the couch like his wolf yearns to do when faced with luscious grass.

“Pearce is harmless though, in all ways,” TK explains as he kisses down to Carlos’ clavicle. OPEN TAG&

@pameluke @eclectic-sassycoweyes @paperstorm @carlos-in-glasses

@carlos-tk @orchidscript @decafdino @emsprovisions

@sapphic--kiwi @alrightbuckaroo @welcometololaland

@rmd-writes @lightningboltreader @freneticfloetry @never-blooms

@ironheartwriter @bonheur-cafe @lemonlyman-dotcom @ladytessa74

@fitzherbertssmolder @birdclowns @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut

@corsage @carlossreaders @chicgeekgirl89 @firstprince-history-huh

@certifiedflower @strandnreyes @reyesstrand @kiwichaeng

@irispurpurea @henrygrass @ameriicansrequiems @pimento-playing-hopscotch

@whatsintheboxmh @everlastingday @nisbanisba @butchreyes

@goodways @nancys-braids @liminalmemories21

[peachetteprice]

heya, can I please request hc’s of how 141 boys would react to their s/o finding out they(141) cheated on their s/o (reader) . im in need of some angst 😭

Oh, boy.

Long disclaimer: this has been in my ask box since July, and I am well aware that it's unlikely you're still in need for angst. I quickly came to the realisation after working on it for a few days that I misread the entire prompt and had written for Price and Soap with YOU being the one to cheat on THEM (141). In my perfectionist state, I abandoned the whole thing, choosing to forgo the whole prompt even if it meant denying someone who was clearly interested in my work something that they'd asked for that I could (reasonably) provide. Nobody should have to wait this long for their ask to be answered, and I'm incredibly apologetic that I was so selfish as to leave it go stale in my inbox. Anon, sweetheart, I highly recommend that you search for another writer to fulfill this, because I'm sure they would gladly dive into the idea that the 141 are cheating on YOU, and not the other way around like I misunderstood. It is entirely uncouth for me to make someone wait this long for a simple ask – don't even get me started that it isn't even in HC format – and I can only apologise that even when it is 'out', now, it is not what you asked for and is my initial interpretation of your ask. I did not do it justice. You deserve better, anon. I sincerely aplogise.

Some of the Boys with Cheating S/Os

TW: General angst, adultery, mild aggression, mention of arson (mild)...

Captain John Price

Anyone knew it wasn't easy being married to a man such as John Price, himself included. He would have traded the life he had if he could, but he couldn't, nor wouldn't, because that wasn't the man he knew himself to be. Sure, in some perverted timeline, a thousand light years away wherein he didn't feel a sense of pride, responsibility, or accountability over the people with whom he shared his country, might he have taken that job as head of accounting he would have been promised, had he gone to university, or simply devoted his life to the blues and twos of the constabulary. None of it would have been harder work that he currently undertook, but it was honest work. And that was the sort of man he was: honest, dependable, and loyal.

That being said, much like the aforementioned, neither of those exclusive three things were easy to achieve. Nor adhere to. But when he stood at that altar in his pin-striped suit, pink and red corsage on chest, and spoke his vows to love you in sickness and in health - and, Christ, he didn't take them lightly - and you returned them, he hoped that you meant it.

And that wasn't to imply that you didn't. You did. Most ardently.

But the nights were long, cold, and unbearable without John. When he was back, he was often distant for a week or two, reeling from whatever madness he saw in the field. If he did make it back into his own mind, he was unlike the man who left beforehand. In fact, he would only return a few days prior to leaving, and then the cycle spun again. And again. And again.

He never spoke about it – the field. Never took a moment to cry in front of you – you heard him, of course you did, in the shower, when he thought you were doing the laundry – and if you did press him on the matter, he simply washed it away with a dismissive hand and a non-committal 'I'm fine, love'.

That might have been when it started. The distance. When the nights become longer, colder, and so unbearable that you needed something to warm the space beside you when he was away. That was all it was ever supposed to be.

John found the men's razor in the bin in the bathroom. It was your colleague, Mark's. He'd come over one evening to comfort you when John was away. It was supposed to be a bottle of wine and a walk home for him, but he woke up in your bed, and there was no stopping what had started, then.

There was no moment of doubt in John.

He knew it immediately; you had another man by your side.

He most expected it. That might have been the most devastating part of all. That, in sickness, he knew you might have longed for the warmth of a man to the point of committing adultery, even if you professed that your heart still lay with him. Even if he knew, himself, that it still did.

You knew he knew it, too, when he sidled into the kitchen with a hand palming his beard, and he placed the razor beside the pot of bolognese you were monitoring as it bubbled away.

"Got something to say?" He asked.

For some god-forsaken reason, there was no malice in his tone. He should have been near-boiling over the thought of another man with his hands on you – the body that he had sworn to cherish and to hold until the day he died.

But, as was the case when he took his vows, he did not take them lightly.

And though you sobbed, pitifully, and asked him to be quick with the divorce papers, so that you might quit your job and move somewhere else - somewhere less suffocating from the lies and the deception – John did not give up.

He threw the razor back into the bin. He sat you at the dining room table. He asked you to explain. Everything. From the very beginning – not since Mark, not since that bloody bottle of red wine, not since the gentle hand he placed on your knee when he should have been out the door – the complete, unabashed beginning when you first lost a modicum of care for him.

When you did finish speaking, the sun had come up. It must have been seven in the morning, but your eyes were so bloated, your words had torn such a scratch into your throat that you couldn't ask what time it was, nor even be able to see the clock on your kitchen wall.

It wasn’t pretty, the things you both spoke about, of the late nights spent texting John, asking if he was doing alright – to utter radio silence on the other end – as another man lay between your legs, suckling against your sopping cunt, and dragging every droplet of cum and sinful moan your voice had to offer, of the dissolved shared affection and broken trust that lined every sentence, of the nervousness as you walked into the pharmacy to ask for a morning-after pill, just to quell the shame you felt about having another man's uncloaked cock in your cunt, even though you were up-to-date on birth control that month.

But if anything permeated throughout the entire conversation, that cemented the idea that, if he hadn't asked you to be his wife, that someone else would have surely filled the role better than you – it was that he was not going to give up on you.

He'd given those vows as a promise, not as a suggestion. In sickness and in health. Till death do you both part. And you could have – and had – moped about how terrible a wife you were, how he should leave at the soonest possible moment and never look back, but that wasn't going to happen, so long as John Price was your husband. 

Because if there was one thing he would do, in every facet of life, perverted timeline or not, it was try.

For John Price would never give up on his lawfully-wedded wife.

John "Soap" MacTavish

There's a pair of underwear in the wash that doesn't fit him. He knows because he tried them on. They're initial-ed in sharpie on the inside label. JR. They're not his initials, that’s for certain. They're not his favoured design. They're not in the shade he wears. They're a lot of things that they aren’t and shouldn't be, like in the wash at all, beside your panties, one of your special weekend bras, and old bedsheets.

James Robinson, your pilates instructor.

It takes him too long to rack his brain before he happens upon the name, arriving at it after consulting your calendar magnet-ed to the fridge, spending the rest of the time thinking with them on the kitchen counter. He nurses a glass of milk as he does. It isn't right for alcohol at the time. It's only five in the morning, though if it were five in the afternoon he would have already taken the next bus to the White Rabbit pub and burnt them in the trash out in the alleyway, just to send a message to you to never give them back to the man who took you from him, when they better suited being strapped to one of his homemade explosives and thrown through the bastard’s office window.

The cereal you munch as he stares at you that same morning tastes sour. Seems like it’s gone off, but Johnny's drinking a glass – his third that morning – so you surmise it’s just about ready to turn. His eyes won't leave you. They often never did, particularly in the mornings, but not like this. Not with such intensity that your stomach draws bile from your liver.

The boxers are in the knife drawer.

You don’t know that the boxers are in the knife drawer, and if you did, you might have even fessed up before he had the opportunity to confront you about it. You’re a coward. You know it. He knows it, too. That’s why he’s waiting for the right time.

And when it is – the right time, that is – he digs them out from between the cutlery and throws them in your lap. It’s silly, really, the thought that takes the place of confusion in your brain. It’s stupid. Naive. Idiotic. Perverted.

"What was that for?" You chuckle, holding them up. Sure, if he wants that now, you're quite ready for it–

"–They're not mine."

All prior concern is embellished with fear. A gall builds in your stomach – you’re about to throw up, and a dry heave makes it to the base of your throat, a quick gulp forcing anything bitter back down. It’s simply foolish, how easily it makes complete sense. The nervous drinking all morning, the gaze that wouldn’t leave yours, the smell of cigarette ash on his fingers when he handed you the carton of milk for your cereal. And you think, oh-so naively, that there may be a chance to refuse his insinuation.

“They're not yours? Who else could these belong to, Johnny? They fit you, don't they?"

"Really? Seriously?" He bites back a disgusted scowl, you see it in his cupid’s bow, hunched up towards his nostrils exactly how it manifests in his nightmares, the scent of rotting bodies, dirty blood, unfinished business. "J.R."

You go blank. There’s nothing at all. You’ve never thought about nothing at all before. It’s a desolate place, the emptiness of your mind. It ruminates in your soul like footprints in a field at night. Who they belong to, why they’re there, why they’re no longer. There’s nothing to be seen, nothing to be heard, nothing to be felt – the trees are too far drawn into the night to be real; tangible.

"Johnny–" it spills out suddenly.

"–Don't you go sayin' my name with those dirty fuckin' lips!” He growls.

"We can – we'll talk about it.” Some things are coming to mind. Not many. Self-preservation related, mostly. “Sit down.” You wave your hands wildly. “I can explain everything, I promise–”

"–Oh," there was almost amusement in his voice, edging on the maniacal, certainly psychotic, "You take me for a fuckin' bampot, don't ye?"

"Johnny, please!"

He nears. He’s animalistic, right now, the way he's stalking you like a tiger who can’t pounce because you haven’t yet turned your back to him, and it wouldn’t be fun until you did. You've never seen that look on him. You never want to again, if he can help it, though you’re not sure he can. It's better suited to the field, staring down an enemy from close range, just before he sets a bullet straight through his head. A sharp fear rises behind the upset. It’s cold. It lingers like a needle beneath skin. It hurts.

"Get out of my house."

"What? Johnny?"

"I said, get out of my fuckin' house!" He swells with an uncanny rage.

Only when you do leave, retreating into the hallway wearing your pyjamas only, does he heave a breath or two that turn solidly into anguished pants, choked sobs and lonely wails. It isn’t supposed to turn out like this, sitting before the lift of your apartment complex, covering the guilt with the ruse of having lost your keys if anyone stops to ask if everything is okay, though everything is most certainly not okay.

James was a nice man. Johnny was a nicer one. But the quell in your throbbing, begging cunt from months of being apart from Johnny was even nicer when James indulged, tongue lapping over your folds like a dog wishing to please its owner. You told him you enjoyed it, even left him with a kiss on his cheek, and he left as soon as it ended, though you hid from him the fact that you threw up in the toilet as soon as you locked the door, sobbing into the same sheets he had you dribble your cum, wishing you could reverse time.

Johnny will never forgive you. That much is true. No matter how much you plead at his doorstep for him to reconsider the relationship – his mind is not so weak, and he finds it endearing that you seem to be convinced otherwise. Though, he does regret one thing – not taking your things, too, along with James’, to the empty lot behind the correctional youth centre and paying the kids there to watch it burn.

BONUS: Phillip Graves

Totally not because I feel bad about letting down anon... no way...

It's three weeks after the fact of your adultery that a text pops up on your phone, unattended, that reads something to the effect of feeling guilty about your time spent with a man for the benefit of revenge, suspecting that Graves, too, has been cheating, as you delicately lament to your best friend, Emily.

Naturally, he confronts you, and you know better than to lie to a man with an arsenal of juggernauts at his disposal, so you confirm his suspicions, and explain that it was by no fault but your own that you slept with Adam.

He’s furious, ardently so – justly so – and you explain that it was undeserved on both sides, to which he seems inexplicably confused, until landing on the understanding that you thought a woman you saw at a hotel with Adam was his lover. And you realise… he wasn’t cheating on you.

And the confusion compounds in your mind, realising his naivité of your illicit relationship was fueled only by the fact that you’d been attending book club at such ridiculous times in the night. He’s pacing, gasping for air as you rightfully say;

“I can’t believe you thought I was going to book club this whole time.”

And he stills, like a lamb, crouches against the dresser, and exclaims with such anguish that you wish you’d never said anything about it at all:

“There’s no book club?!”

| Masterlist |

[corsage]

endings week tag game.

thank you so much to @lonestar-s5countdown, @the-126-family, @she-walked-away and @tellmegoodbye for the tag ♡

1. Which 911 Lone Star season finale is your favorite?

i'm torn. i want to say season one because it was magical — the music, the dialogues, the setting; but i also want to say season four.

2. What was your favorite moment from the season 4 finale?

tommy singing being alive to carlos and tk. gina torres has the sweetest, warmest singing voice.

3. Are there any storylines that you would like to see brought back for a more satisfying conclusion?

i don't know if it counts, but give me nancy's backstory!

4. Pick one character and tell us where you hope to see them at the end of season 5.

i just hope everyone gets a much deserved happy ending.

5. What is one thing you really want to see before the show ends?

it's going to be controversial maybe, i know many don't agree, but i'd like to see carlos and tk with a baby. not (necessarily) as in them becoming parents, i mean even just babysitting. i just would like to see them interact with a baby in a longer scene than the one we got with baby jonah.

tagging @theghostofashton, @tkstrandthinker, @strandnreyes, @lutavero, @mrs-corrections-78, @goodways, @whatsintheboxmh, @carlos-in-glasses, @eclectic-sassycoweyes, @welcomehometk, @lemonlyman-dotcom, @tkslittlesway, @paperstorm, @welcometololaland, @butchreyes, @emsprovisions, @ironheartwriter, @reyesstrand and you, the reader. no pressure!

[spookwyrdie]

Sweet Spot {part 2}

{part 1}{part 2}{part 3}{part 4}{part 5}{part 6}

Baker Felix x Florist reader

summary: Setting up for an actual wedding is a lot of work, especially when you can't stop thinking about the dream you had about Felix. Is floral prep enough to distract you? That becomes a huge challenge when Felix helps you out in your time of need. // genre: fluff, angst if you squint // word count: 3.1k // warnings: adult dialogue, sexual themes //a/n: This chapter isn't explicit, but it'll be worth the wait. if you're not on the taglist and would like to be, please reply to this post or send me an ask!🥰

(⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄

I have only posted this here and on AO3 - user: spookwyrdie

The next few days were a whirlwind of activity, so you didn’t have an extra moment to spare to even think about Felix and the dream. You didn’t have to think about the way your heart thumped uncomfortably in your chest at the memory of Dream Felix’s hands roaming your body. If you found yourself with an extra moment of downtime, the memory would flood your thoughts, heating you up and bringing a flush to your cheek. It was such a visceral dream. You could almost feel the ghost of his fingers digging into your hips, controlling the speed of your thrusts. But with the ever lengthening to-do list to get all the florals done before this wedding, you had the perfect distraction from the new wave of feeling for Felix. 

Well, it was the perfect distraction - until you needed help the night before the wedding. Your humble little floral business was just you and Hyunjin, and both of you had been working overtime to deal with the last minute bohemian aesthetic switch. Your fingers were rubbed raw by all the armature wire and wayward thorns that found their way into your thumbs. It was an all-hands-on-deck situation, so you called in the reinforcements. 

By the time the back-up arrives in the shape of Chan, Minho, and Felix, your apartment looks like the garden supply section of a home improvement store exploded. You have deep bags under your eyes when you answer the door. Relief spreads on your face at the sight of the three extra pairs of hands, ready to lighten some of this blossom burden. 

“Sorry for the mess, I had to take out most of the food from my fridge to make room for these flowers,” you say sheepishly. “The fridge at the shop is already packed.”

Hyunjin waves at them without looking up from his position hunched over on the floor, counting the bundles of pampas grass, baby’s breath, and Queen Anne’s lace.

“Y/n, this is way too much. I hope you’ve upped your fee for this,” Minho says, eyeing the different greenery strewn around the floor of your apartment. “A big last minute change like this warrants more money.”

“Yeah, I know, maybe I’ll try to talk to Johnny sometime about it.”

“Definitely talk to Johnny about it,” Chan adds. “Don’t let any client rip you off, especially not your ex.”

“You also look like you need some rest,” Felix says, coming up behind you and resting his hands on your shoulders. The protest rising in your throat dies immediately as he starts to knead lightly into your tense muscles. Your eyes close for a moment, leaning into the comforting touch, tilting your head forward as his thumbs rub an even rhythm up the back of your neck. His deep voice, so close you can feel his breath ghost along your skin, breaks you out of your reverie when he says, “So what do you need us to do?”

You clear your throat as your head snaps back up. 

“Right, so…”

You give them each a task - Minho adding final touches to the corsages and boutonnieres, Hyunjin putting together the bridesmaids bouquets and table arrangements, then handing them to Chan for the finishing ribbon. Which leaves you and Felix on your own. This wouldn’t be an issue under normal circumstances, but having a sex dream about one of your best friends isn’t exactly the most normal circumstance. Your focus goes to the flowers, avoiding eye contact with Felix. The two of you are hunched over the separate parts of the arch, wrapping and securing the vines, leaves, and grasses onto the armature. You try not to notice when your fingers brush, sending a tingle through your hands.

After the fifth time you yawn, Felix leans forward to catch your eye, concern written on his face. “Y/n, you are literally about to fall asleep standing up. We can take it from here, you go lay down.”

“No!” you shake your head vigorously, blinking to keep yourself awake. “I have to make sure all of this stuff gets finished.”

“The rest of us are here and Hyunjin knows how to store everything until tomorrow,” he implores. “You need to get some sleep before set-up tomorrow.”

You blink slowly, like a frog, as you look from him, to Hyunjin, Chan, and Minho on the floor. Felix sighs, putting down the wire cutters, and taking your hand. Silently, he leads you to your bedroom, ignoring your exhausted whining. You shuffle in, immediately face planting onto your mattress. You feel Felix pulling the blanket around your body, tucking you in.

“Don’t worry, Y/n. We will handle the rest of this,” he murmurs, deep voice lulling you to sleep. “Also, don’t forget to send me the address tomorrow for the venue. I’ll meet you there after I finish up with a delivery.”

You hum in agreement, too drowsy to form words, eyelids heavy. The room is quiet as you feel yourself begin to drift off. You assume Felix had left until you hear a small whisper in your ear. 

“See you tomorrow,” he says as he presses a gentle, lingering kiss to your temple.

~~~

The morning is a full frenzy. Before dawn, you and Hyunjin nearly trip over each other to load up the van, playing a floral version of tetris. With the wedding venue being nearly an hour and a half drive away, you were double and triple checking your inventory before heading out. You did sleep pretty well last night once Felix forced you to stop working and go to bed.

Just as you were about to jump into the passenger's seat, Hyunjin asks “Y/n, aren’t you forgetting something?”

You go down your mental checklist, everything seems in order - the garlands are all boxed properly, the table arrangements and vases are stacked carefully, the floral arch is broken down into its separate pieces for traveling. You made sure every petal and leaf was accounted for.

“No, I don’t think so. What?”

Hyunjin stares at you, raising his eyebrows as he looks down at your clothes and back up. “Sweetie, your dress?”

You gasp, jogging back up to your apartment to grab the outfit you painstakingly put together for this wedding. The garment bag with your dress, your overnight clothes, and all of the things you need to look presentable, hangs neatly on your bedroom door. This is the first wedding that you’ve been both hired for and invited to attend. It would have been simple to set up all the flowers and then leave, but you have a strange sense of dignity that you need to uphold when it comes to your condescending ex. Of course you’ll show up, and you’ll even have a very good looking date joining you.

That warm rush of arousal burns through you again at the thought of introducing Felix as your date - no, your boyfriend. Truth be told, the idea of playing pretend with Felix for one night like this excited you. It was actually his idea to pretend you were dating, it would make your success seem all that more believable. You could tuck this memory away for the future, a snapshot of what it could be like if Felix reciprocated your feelings. 

You trot back to the van, hanging your garment back up on one of the hooks in the back. Anxiety bubbles up in your chest as you settle in for the mini road trip to the venue. At the last minute, you remember to text Felix the address.

you: the address for the venue is 143 Myrtle Way. you: sorry that it’s a bit of a trek. 🌻Felix: are you sure this is the right address? you: yeah, why? 🌻Felix: no reason, just double checking.  🌻Felix: see you soon 🥰

~~~

You hate admitting that Johnny and Jenny picked a lovely venue for their wedding. It’s deep in wine country, a smaller venue for the expected 100 guests, at the perfect time of summer. There’s a semi-outdoor section for the ceremony, attached to a lovely covered reception hall, all within a few hundred feet of the actual resort where most of the guests and wedding party are going to stay. Everything is lush and green surrounding the area. Even in the early morning light, you take a moment to soak in the crisp air.

When you and Hyunjin arrive around 7 AM, the sun is just beginning to peek over the horizon. Even though it’s not for a few hours, you get to work unloading. You’ve always been an “err on the side of caution” type when it comes to being early to a place. Staff shuffles you in to begin bringing in load after load of flowers. The main ceremony hall is where you start, hanging all the garlands and tulle around as planned. Hyunjin holds a stepladder while you start pinning up the hanging greenery, hands tinged green from handling all the leaves and vines.

It’s a little after 9 AM and you’re about halfway done with the main hall. You sigh, rolling your tense shoulders and neck, wishing you had the extra pairs of help hands you had last night. The memory of Felix pressing a kiss to your temple burns through you suddenly. Did he really do that? Was that just something you made up as you drifted off? Maybe your anxious brain wanted to soothe you a little before such a big event. 

You reach up to pin another vine when you sense a person next to you. Assuming it’s Hyunjin, you say, “Could you hand me that spool of twine, hun?”

“Hun?” a deep voice responds. “Is that my new pet name?”

You squeak, slipping a little from the surprise. Two hands grab your waist to steady you on the stepladder. 

“Careful, Y/n!” Felix chuckles.  “People might think you’re falling for me.”

“Felix! Why are you here so early?!”

He saunters around you, picking up the twine and reaches up to hand it to you.

“Is that anyway to greet your boyfriend?” His voice is bubbly and light, contrasting with his deep tone. “I got done with my delivery earlier than expected, so I figured I’d come and help you set up.”

“O-oh,” you stammer. “Thanks, Lixie.”

He smiles as you take the twine from his hand, his whole face lighting up. It makes the butterflies in your stomach start to swarm. 

Felix’s help is a huge relief. He seems to anticipate your needs, handing you things before you even ask, grabbing you a coffee and some food to help you perk up a little. The biggest relief is how he eases your nerves about the actual wedding you're decorating for currently.

Hyunjin is inside working on the table arrangements while you and Felix finally start on the arch. Right where the bride and groom will be standing, you snap all the pieces together, Felix helping hold all of the parts up while you handle the screwdriver. The spot at the top has been tricky, holding your arms far above your head and nearly standing on your tiptoes to attach the metal armature together. 

“I’m going to try something, okay?” Felix says, watching you struggle from his position of holding the stepladder steady. Before you even have time to process what happens, he wraps his arms around your thighs, hugging tightly, and lifting you up a few more inches. You gasp, hands shaking as you try to finish up what you’re working on. When you finally get the screw cinched down, you look down at him.

The way his eyes are literally sparkling as he holds you up with so little effort has that same heat pooling in your belly. He looks like the sun incarnate, a warm glow seems to emanate from him as he smiles up at you. You feel your cheeks heat at his rapt attention. Other parts of you also heat up when you realize how close his face is to your core. Your mind floods with images of what he would look like between your legs in a different context, and you feel a jolt of desire burn through your body. 

“You can put me down now Felix,” you whisper.

“Oh!” he starts, broken out of his trance. “Yeah, of course.”

But he doesn’t just set you down. The grip he has on your thighs loosens slightly as he lets gravity drag you down slowly. Your whole body is pressed up against his as you slide down, feeling every inch of his torso. His hands caress up your hips as you move down. Once your feet touch the ground, he doesn’t let you go, holding you close in his embrace. You’re almost at eye level with him, faces so close you can feel his breath against your skin. His hands splay across your back, fingers clutching the fabric of your sweater. Fluttering in your chest, your heartbeat feels like it’s about to burst as he leans his face in, closing the distance one millimeter at a time.

“Felix, I-”

Just then, the door to the seating area bursts open. Jenny, wrapped in a fuzzy white bathrobe, her brown hair in curlers, is marching towards you with a frazzled Hyunjin following behind her. You gasp, pushing Felix away, clearing your throat.

“Hey Jenny!” The adrenaline pumping through you from the shock makes your voice waver a little.

“Y/n, I need to see my bouquet RIGHT NOW,” Jenny says, distress painted on her features.

“S-sure, let me take you to the fridge.”

Hyunjin mouths ‘sorry’ as he shrugs, clearly this was out of his hands. You leave Felix and Hyunjin in the main hall and lead Jenny to the kitchen area, her slippers slapping against the tile. Her anxiety is palpable, you can almost taste it. You reach into the fridge towards the back, wanting to keep these blooms in the best condition.

“If you want to make any changes, I brought some extra flowers and greens just in case,” you say cautiously as you bring out the bouquet. It was just like you two had agreed on during the last consultation,  a muted tone bouquet of white, cream, and pink. There are different types of grasses like white bunny tail puffs and longer fronds of pampas framing the light blooms. Leaves of a sage green pop through to complement the blooms. A few quail feathers placed in between some of the grasses peek through, giving the texture more depth. 

She’s silent as she wrings her hands, a deep crease of worry marks her brow. You wait, trying to gauge her reaction - does she love it? Hate it?

“Y/n, I-” she squeaks. “It’s lovely. I’m sorry. I just got all up in my head about today and then Johnny texted me something, so I had to check.”

“Huh? What did Johnny text you?”

“He said something about the bouquet being wrong. He kind of implied that you were doing a bad job on purpose.”

“What?!”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, her breathing panicked now. “The stress is just, like, getting to me I guess.” 

She slumps against the counter, placing her forehead against the cold countertop. You return the bouquet to the cold of the fridge, and turn around. She’s shaking a little as she leans over the counter, her breath shuddering. You tentatively reach your hand out to place it on her back, rubbing small circles between her shoulder blades.

“It’s okay, Jen. I know the planning has to be stressful.”

“Yeah,” Jenny’s voice comes out so small, muffled against the counter. “I don’t know. I never thought I’d get cold feet, but now they’re, like, freezing.”

She lifts her head to look at you, eyes shiny with unshed tears.

“Do you think I’m making a mistake with him?”

Your eyes nearly bug out of your head, balking at her question. The two of you have never been close, this whole exchange has been well outside your comfort zone.

“No, I don’t,” you say. “I think you two work so well together. You’re Jenny and Johnny!”

“Right but like, will I still get to be Jenny once I’m married to Johnny?”

You pause, unsure of how to respond. “I’m confident that you two work well as a unit and as independents. I think this is just pre-wedding jitters for both of you.”

She gives a slight nod, gazing off into the distance. 

“Also, to be honest, Johnny has never known shit about flowers, so what would he know about this bouquet?”

Jenny giggles, a funny hiccuping sound. 

“Do you like it? We can still make some changes,” you offer.

“No, no. I love it. It’s exactly like I pictured,” she sighs, finally coming down from her outburst. “Thanks, Y/n.”

You breathe a sigh of relief as she turns to leave. The bridesmaids are waiting outside the kitchen, having chased after her when she ran out to the lobby. They coo at her, creating a din of reassurance as they usher her back towards the dressing room. You wander back into the main hall, watching Hyunjin and Felix affix the last of the lights to the garlands, perfecting the atmosphere.

“Hey, Y/n, how did it go?” says Felix once he sees you.

“It was alright, she was just a nervous bride looking for an outlet of her stress.”

“Good, I thought she was going to explode based on how fast she was talking to me earlier,” says Hyunjin.

You chuckle at that. “Nah, she’s alright. Johnny apparently talked shit about my floral arrangement skills, so it made her really nervous. But, whatever.”

“Jerk,” quips Felix.

You hum in agreement. “It looks great in here, guys.”

“Thanks, we’re just about to finish up,” Hyunjin says. “You can go ahead and start getting ready, the ceremony starts in a couple of hours.”

Right, the actual ceremony. That sickly anxious feeling pulses through you again. Interacting with a nervous bride is one thing, but seeing your ex getting married is an entirely different beast. You take a calming breath, trying to shake the nerves.

“If you need anything, sweetie…” Felix says, placing his hand on your shoulder. Your nerves roar back to life at his simple touch. “...let me know.”

It’s wild how incredibly vulnerable one sentence can make you feel. Felix has a way of making you feel like you’re under a spotlight, but instead of sweating nervously in front of a crowd, it’s like basking in the warm glow of sunset. You get a little lost in his eyes for a moment before shaking yourself out of it. 

“Wish me luck!”

taglist: @binniesbabe @jeonginsleftcheek @ivydoesit23 @stayatinykatsy @jaquisos @mong---mong @palindrome969 @dottydarling

[carlos-in-glasses]

Thank you for the tag @whatsintheboxmh and @nisbanisba 🧡

This is from chapter 12 of Rhythms, coming on Sunday! It might be my personal favourite chapter so can't wait to share! Also...12 weeks of posting down already 😭 It's all going too fast.

In which we join Carlos, Buttercup and TK at Gabriel's funeral wake:

“Oh, you want one of these?” Carlos feels himself actually smile, taking a couple of baby carrots from a bag in the crisper drawer. Rocky always loved carrots. “Here, have one for Rocky,” he says, feeding Buttercup from his hand and regretting it for the palmful of drool.

Carlos washes his hands but can’t resist returning to Buttercup to pet him. Dogs are creatures of enormous comfort.

He crouches and takes Buttercup’s face in his hands. “Thank you, Buttercup. Thank you,” he whispers.

Buttercup boofs and dusts the floor beneath the island with his wagging tail.

A couple of sets of footsteps come crashing into the kitchen. For some reason Carlos freezes where he is, crouches down lower behind the island, his instinct to stay hidden.

“You want something, Casey?” A young, male voice asks. “They’ve got tequila.”

“Nah, I’m driving,” a second guy replies, “They’ve got so much booze here, man.”

A beer can cracks open and hisses. “Hey, did you know the Major’s son is a f*****?”

“What?”

“Yeah, he’s engaged to a man – I met the fiancé; this is his dad’s place. He was like, hey, I’m Carlos’ fiancé. I had to try so hard not to laugh.”

“Bruh.”

Eyes wide, Carlos slowly drifts up from behind the kitchen island like Titan rising out of the sea.

Two rookies who are barely out of training pants freeze where they stand, their faces draining of color as their mouths fall open.

The rookie with the beer can slowly puts it down. “I – we were just–”

Carlos clocks their names on their badges. “Marsh and Ross, Get the fuck out of this house,” he whispers, “Right now.”

Marsh and Ross look at each other and hurry away in the direction of the front door, brushing past TK as they go. TK spins in the whirlwind of them.

“What are they doing?” TK throws a thumb over his shoulder as he wanders towards Carlos and Buttercup.

Carlos is too stunned, too gut-punched to answer.

Buttercup lopes over to TK, his favorite boy in all the world.

“More cars have pulled up outside,” TK says, stroking a finger down Buttercup’s snout. “And your mom just opened the condolences book.”

“I’ll write something,” Carlos says shakily. A little message of love for his mom to find. The book is for her. 

Carlos follows TK in a stupor. The words of the homophobic rookie – it’s like someone has driven nails into his ears. There’s a sharp pain across his cranium, in his jaw, that makes his eyes water. He no longer feels like he’s at the same altitude as everyone else.

Open tag and tags below:

@paperstorm @thisbuildinghasfeelings @strandnreyes

@bonheur-cafe @lightningboltreader @goodways @reyesstrand

@rmd-writes @welcometololaland @ladytessa74

@heartstringsduet @irispurpurea @liminalmemories21 @alrightbuckaroo

@cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @chicgeekgirl89 @lemonlyman-dotcom @freneticfloetry

@theghostofashton @honeybee-taskforce @sugdenlovesdingle

@herefortarlos @orchidscript @tellmegoodbye @three-drink-amy

@pimento-playing-hopscotch @eclectic-sassycoweyes

@kiwichaeng @literateowl @butchreyes @captain-gillian

@nancys-braids @fifthrideroftheapocalypse @ironheartwriter

@emsprovisions @sapphic--kiwi @anactualcaseofthetruth

@corsage @nisbanisba @the-126-family @carlossreaders @henrygrass - If you want to share/haven't already! No pressure ever! ❤️🩷🧡💛💚💙🩵💜

[strandnreyes]

thanks @heartstringsduet @paperstorm @corsage @nisbanisba @reyesstrand @bonheur-cafe @carlos-in-glasses !!

“Hey,” Carlos says as he hangs his keys on the hook by the door. He looks over just in time to see TK prop himself up onto his elbow.

“Hey. What’d you get?”

“Caroline,” Carlos answers as he sets his takeout bag on the breakfast bar.

“Nice,” TK says in approval. “I’ve been there before. Bad date, but good food.”

Carlos smiles politely as he takes his sandwich out of the bag. He wonders if TK dates a lot, if he’s dating someone now, if it’s serious, if TK does serious or only casually sees people. He wonders about a lot of things, none of which should matter because Carlos isn’t trying to be the person he dates.

“Hey, do you plan on working at all the rest of the night?” TK asks.

Carlos shrugs. He doesn’t really have any other plans and it’s only six. “I might read over some things.”

That clearly wasn’t the answer TK was expecting and he looks a little guilty. “Oh. Yeah, of course, I can—”

“No,” Carlos blurts out a little too quickly. “I mean I don’t expect you to. You can keep relaxing, I just don’t have anything else to do.”

It sounds a little pathetic when he says it out loud, but he supposes it’s not a secret that work is the biggest thing in his life. TK surely has noticed that he’s often the first to get there and the last to leave.

“You can watch TV if you want,” TK offers.

There’s an empty space on the couch next to him. The only light in the room is the lamp in the corner and the dimming daylight coming from the patio doors. It looks so inviting and too intimate, like they really are a couple coming home to each other after a long day, which is why he can’t. He can’t trick his mind into thinking this is real.

Carlos looks at the screen and wrinkles his nose when he sees a woman in what looks like a confessional room. “I’m good,” he says, and TK fakes offense.

“Hey, I will not apologize for my guilty pleasure shows.”

Carlos chuckles as he unwraps his sandwich. “No judgment,” he says, and then the conversation dies off as TK presses play again.

tagging @alrightbuckaroo @butchreyes @basilsunrise @orchidscript @lightningboltreader @liminalmemories21 @emsprovisions @ironheartwriter @tellmegoodbye @theghostofashton @rmd-writes @welcometololaland @whatsintheboxmh @chicgeekgirl89 @carlos-tk + open tag!!

[mustainegf]

Walk me home pt 4 with Brad getting expelled and James getting to take reader to prom? 😁❤️

I APOLOGIZE FOR THIS BEING EMBARRASSINGLY LATE!!!

This was supposed to come out a long while ago, but it was only half written and I was so caught up with other stuff, but it’s finally here!!

𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊 𝐌𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟒 ¹⁹⁷⁹

— 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏

It was prom night and I was so fucking nervous. I was shaking as I stood outside her house, clutching my corsage for what felt like forever. I took a deep breath and knocked on the door. Her mom answered, beaming, "James! Come on in."

I followed her into the living room and was hit with a wave of emotion as I saw her standing there. She looked absolutely gorgeous. I was just in awe of her for a moment before I remembered to say something. "Wow," I said, sounding like such a dork. She laughed at me and I blushed, looking down.

"You look so handsome," she said, walking up to me. She had never looked more beautiful. She was wearing a stunning yellow dress that went perfectly with her hair, and her makeup made her look even more beautiful than usual.

"Thanks," I said, handing her the corsage. She put it on and then did the boutonniere for me. We looked at each other, both of us laughing a little.

"Okay, okay, you two, we have to get a picture of you," her mom said, getting out her camera. We stood there awkwardly, looking at each other and laughing. It was one of the most awkward moments of my life. We managed to get a few photos together, though. I couldn't believe how gorgeous she looked.

"Okay, lovebirds. You should head out," her dad said, clapping me on the shoulder. "Have a good time." We smiled and thanked them and headed out.

We both had a bit of a laugh as we got in the car. We were both just so nervous.

I got behind the wheel of my old piece of shit car and started the engine. She sat next to me in the passenger seat, fiddling with her hands. "You look so perfect," I said, taking my eyes off the road to look at her for a second.

She blushed and smiled at me. I felt a warmth in my chest as I looked at her. I knew this was the girl I was meant to be with.

"Thanks," she said, smiling. "You look pretty handsome yourself."

"I don't feel like it," I admitted. She laughed at me.

"You're such a dork," she said, rolling her eyes. "You're so handsome." She grabbed my hand, squeezing it. I felt like I was going to die from how cute she was. We drove the rest of the way in comfortable conversation.

We arrived at the hall where our prom was being held. There were tons of people there, all dressed up and looking good.

"Ready?" I asked her. She nodded. We got out of the car and headed inside. We were immediately hit with tons of people saying hi to her. It was funny, she was so popular, and I was just some random band nerd. But she didn't seem to care. She always made me feel important.

We headed to the entrance, where they were taking our picture. We smiled and put our arms around each other. I couldn't help but laugh when they asked us to kiss, but she was always down for anything. She leaned up and kissed me lightly on the cheek and I blushed.

We walked into the prom and I was immediately hit with a wave of music and people. I felt a little overwhelmed. She seemed to be loving it, though. She was already greeting some of her friends. I stood awkwardly behind her, trying not to look like a loser. She grabbed my hand and squeezed it. "Come on," she said, smiling. "I want to dance with you."

I blushed as she said it right in front of all her friends. She dragged me to the dance floor and I felt my face go red. "Okay, okay," I said, laughing.

She laughed and stood there next to me. I looked around at everyone dancing and felt awkward. I had no idea what I was doing. She could see I was nervous and smiled at me, taking my hand. "Put your hands on my waist," she said, smiling. I put them there and she took her hands and put it on my shoulder. We swayed a little to the music.

I felt my heart pounding. She was so fucking beautiful. I can't even believe she's my girlfriend.

She smiled at me and kissed me lightly on the lips. I blushed. We danced together for a bit, smiling. She was so sweet to me.

After a few dances, our friends came over to join us. They all laughed at me for my terrible dance moves, but she never did. She just smiled and laughed with me. She was always so good to me. I didn't know what I did to deserve her.

About forty five minutes later, we were still dancing together. I was feeling a lot more relaxed. My arms were around her waist and she was holding onto me, resting her head on my chest. The music changed and we started slow dancing again. I was so happy to have her in my arms.

The music changed to a romantic song and she leaned in to kiss me. I felt my heart pounding. I loved this girl so much. I just wanted to do anything for her.

"Hey," she whispered, looking up at me. "I love you."

I felt my heart skip a beat. "I love you too," I said, smiling. She smiled back at me and leaned in for another kiss. I kissed her, feeling so happy. I couldn't believe how lucky I was to have her as my girlfriend. I felt so lucky.

After a little bit longer of dancing, we decided to get some food. I was fucking starving. I followed her over to the table and we loaded up our plates.

She laughed at me as I put a ridiculous amount of food on my plate. "You're such a dork," she said, smiling.

"Hey, I'm starving," I said, grinning at her.

"Well, you're going to explode," she said, giggling.

She poked at my stomach. I laughed. We walked over to a table and sat down to eat. We chatted a little bit about nothing in particular. I just liked spending time with her. She was always so adorable. I just wanted to make her happy.

I loved her so much.

We slipped through the front door as silently as possible. The house was dead quiet except for an occasional upstairs creak. My stepbrother was probably passed out as usual, which was perfect. No distractions tonight. It was just me and her, and I liked it that way.

We tiptoed down into the basement, where my room was. It wasn't much, but it was a mattress on the floor, with posters covering literally every inch of wall space, and stacks of records. But she always seemed to manage to make it feel like home. I flicked on the lamp casting light over the room as she twirled around once more in her dress. God, she looked amazing. I was trying to sear the image into my brain, her in that prom dress, spinning, laughing like we didn't have a care in the world.

"One last look before we ditch these huh?" she teased catching me staring.

I grinned, tossing of my blazer and unbuttoning my shirt. "You make it hard not to stare.”

She went pink and her teeth bitten into her lip as she slipped out of her dress, which fell onto my chair. She was quick with an old shirt of mine that hung loose upon her, and I kicked off my pants, not bothering with anything other than basketball shorts. We climbed into bed, sinking into the warmth of the blankets, her body instantly curling into mine.

We started talking in low tones, the conversation meandered between jokes about prom, griping about the idiots at school, and random shit that didn't matter. It was like we could go on this way, just lying like that, arms wrapped around each other, her head tucked against my chest. I ran my fingers through her hair, she traced shapes absentmindedly on my stomach. Peaceful, almost hypnotic.

And it felt like, um, after ten minutes, it was the right time.

"I've got something for you," I said quietly, but with an undertone of trembling that showed how excited I was.

She flipped her head back against me, her eyes aglow. "Oh yeah? What is it?"

I nodded to the bedside table. "Look in the drawer."

Still giggling, she leaned over me to open it. When she saw what was inside, the giggling ceased and ended with a gasp.

"No way…" Her eyes were wide as she pulled out the brand new record, "Paranoid" by Black Sabbath. The one I'd promised her months ago. The one that Brad had snapped in front of everyone, trying to humiliate me. Of course he got what was coming to him, but I was more pissed about the record.

Her eyes shone with excitement as they met mine. "James… this is perfect. I just can't believe you got it again. I thought… "

She didn’t say the rest of her sentence, as she literally flung herself on top of me, pressing kisses everywhere on my face. I laughed loudly as I wrapped my arms around her tightly while she showered me with affection.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" she whispered between kisses.

I smiled, observing her under the soft light. She looked so happy, and it made everything worth it. "You know I had to," I murmured, brushing a piece of her hair back.

She nodded, her face lighting up all the more. "Let's play it."

I leaned over and gently set the record to the turntable. The instant that needle hit vinyl, that familiar haunting melody of "Planet Caravan" filled the room, floating through space like a dream. We slid back under the blankets, wrapping ourselves even closer together, as the music hugged around us.

It was silent for a while but for the music and our steady breathing. Her lips found mine in slow, lazy kisses, and I could feel her smile against me. Much needed to be said between us, yet that seemed irrelevant at this point in time. It was one of those moments where words really didn't matter, just us with the music and that warm feeling in knowing we'd had one another.

“God, I love this song," she whispered, her head against my chest, her fingers tracing circles on my arm now.

I kissed the top of her head. "And I love you."

She looked up at me, eyes soft, and kissed me again, this time slower, deeper. When she pulled back, she whispered, "I love you too...”

We stayed like this, wrapped up in each other, the music fading into the background as we went drifting off. Her breathing slowed, her body relaxing even more against mine, and I knew she was falling asleep. I kissed her forehead, placing my hand gently upon her back as I closed my eyes, the last notes lulling us into sleep.

Nothing else in the world mattered at that moment, me, her, and Black Sabbath playing softly in the background. It was perfect.